CHAPTER 7: Luka

The men's room was right next door to the Recovery room, but after what I'd been through today, I felt like I was walking a hundred miles. I barely remember my conversation with Abby, let alone going in there to wash my hands. It wasn't until I shut off the faucet and started drying them that I finally broke down. All those traumatic memories came rushing back with a vengeance: seeing Sam being held hostage by Steve and his accomplices. Staring down the barrel of that Beretta 9mm. Fighting with Steve and feeling the stabbing in the back of my neck. The kick to the face before I blacked out. Waking up in the dark and finding myself intubated and tied to the gurney. Struggling to free myself and get somebody's, anybody's attention. Seeing Abby on the other side of the door before she slumped downward and out of my sight. The pain I felt from being tormented by those horrible moments was indescribable.
I'm so sorry, Sam, I thought as I cried uncontrollably. I'm so sorry I couldn't keep you safe. And Abby, I'm so sorry you had to go through that C-section and hysterectomy alone. Danijela, I'm still sorry I couldn't save you. Jasna, Marko, I tried so hard for you. Papa's so sorry...
I slowly stood back up, and froze when I saw the exhausted, haggard, broken man in the mirror staring back at me. The confident, resourceful, capable doctor with tear-filled, red-rimmed eyes, a bruised and still-throbbing right cheekbone, and a black, scratchy ten o'clock shadow covering the lower half of my face. I was supposed to help people who were in trouble, to make sure no harm came to the ones I cared about, and I'd failed so fucking miserably. And on top of that, my newborn son was in the NICU, and God only knew if he would even make it through the night.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. In a rage, I grabbed the stainless steel wastebasket. "SON OF A BITCH!" I screamed as I flung it at the mirror. It smashed against the glass and clattered to the floor, leaving a jagged, spider-web-looking pattern behind. That mirror was the perfect metaphor to my state of mind as I stood in that bathroom. Both it, and myself, were broken into a thousand pieces.
Then I remembered what Kerry had told me. Sam and Alex were all right. They'd suffered some minor injuries in the crash, but by the grace of God, nothing that was potentially life-threatening. After I took a few deep breaths, I washed my face and walked out the door. Sure, the mirror was still broken, and I would most likely have to pay for having it replaced, but that wasn't important right now.
I got off the elevator and approached the desk. "What room are Samantha and Alexander Taggart in, please?" I asked the receptionist.
"108."
"Thank you very much."
When I opened the door and peeked in, there was Sam. Her left arm was in an eggshell-colored cast, her hands were bandaged, and she had a smaller bandage over her eye. Alex was in the bed next to her, and he had a large bandage plastered across his forehead and bruises on his face. Both were asleep, so I very carefully and quietly entered the room.
"Hey, you guys," I whispered. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay, and so is Abby. She had a boy, and he's gonna be in the NICU for the next 24 hours. They told me he has a good chance of pulling through, but right now, it's still a guessing game. Also, Abby said Dr. Coburn had to do a hysterectomy because she was bleeding too much. But other than that, she's fine. Oh, and if you get a chance to meet our baby, his name's Joe."
I walked up to Sam's bedside and sat down before continuing, "Look, Sam, I know you and Alex have been through a lot, but, uh—I just wanted to say thank you. For saving my life. And I also wanted to tell you that you shouldn't blame yourselves for what happened. None of this is your fault. But, uh—I understand completely if you're upset with me about this. Hell, I'm still trying to come to grips with it myself...Anyway, like I said, I—just thought I'd come by and see you, and tell you that Abby and I are okay. And if you could say a prayer for our son, we'd really appreciate it. Well, I'll let you get some sleep now. See you later." Getting to my feet, I gave them each a kiss on the cheek and left.
On my way back up to Abby's room, I thought about why she named our son Joe, and what she said about Smokin' Joe Frazier. It was because he was a fighter, and in her mind, our son was a fighter, too. Even though he was only a few hours old, he knew he had to hang tough and get through this. Come to think of it, so did the rest of us.
As I got into the elevator, I bowed my head and prayed hard for my child. Jasna, Marko, you and your mother need to watch over your little brother, I thought. If you're up there, and if you can hear me, Joe needs all the help he can get right now. Heavenly Father, please be with Abby and our son tonight. In Your name and infinite wisdom, we pray for your guidance, protection and love. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.