Modern Romance May 2016 Books 1-4. Julia James
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before he could formulate the words a nurse bustled into the room.
She saw at once that the patient was conscious and she turned sharply to his father. ‘How long has Mr Morelli been awake?’ she asked, her tone reproving. ‘You should have come and fetched me, as soon as he regained consciousness.’
‘Minutes, only,’ said Oliver apologetically. ‘I was going to come and let you know, but—’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
The nurse came to look down at Luke with critical eyes. Then she gave her attention to something that was above his head; a screen, possibly. Turning, she checked another monitor that was ticking away beside him, making notes on a clipboard she’d taken from a slot at the bottom of his bed.
As his brain kicked in he realised that there were tubes and wires attached to various parts of his body. There was something in his nose and another tube going into his mouth. What had happened to him?
After assessing the contents of the drip that was attached to his arm, the nurse frowned. ‘How are you feeling, Mr Morelli?’ she asked, repeating his father’s words. ‘Do you remember how you got here?’
Luke’s tongue pushed helplessly between his lips, and the woman nodded her understanding.
‘You’d like a drink, yes?’ She reached for a jug of water that Luke realised must have been sitting on the bedside table all the time and poured a small amount into a glass. Then, after attaching a straw, she held it to his lips. ‘Just a little.’
The water was cool and delicious. Luke felt as if he could have drunk all that was in the glass and more. But after a few sips, the nurse drew it away.
‘That will do for now, Mr Morelli. I’ll get Mr Marsden.’
‘No...’
Somehow Luke got the word out, but the nurse only shook her head. ‘Mr Marsden asked to be informed as soon as you regained consciousness,’ she said firmly.
Luke said nothing more. He was aware that for the present, his opinion meant nothing at all.
‘Don’t upset yourself, Mr Morelli,’ the nurse continued briskly. ‘Mr Marsden was the surgeon who dealt with your injuries when you first arrived at the hospital. He’s taken a personal interest in your case, and I know he’ll want to assess your condition for himself.’
She was out of the door before Luke could offer any further protest and as soon as she’d gone his father resumed his position beside the bed.
‘Do you remember anything about the accident?’ he asked anxiously.
And Luke, who had been wondering why he’d needed a surgeon in the first place, was suddenly thrust back to the moment when he’d realised the heavy farm vehicle, lumbering out of the field, wasn’t going to stop.
The memory of what had happened slammed into him with the force of a freight train. His brain suddenly felt as if it were exploding, pain radiating to every part of his skull. Blood throbbed in his temples, and his heartbeat accelerated. He felt again the horror of what he’d had to face.
His eyes closed, and this time he didn’t try to open them. He thought he heard his father utter a cry of protest. But all he could do was give in to the pain, and pray for blessed relief.
* * *
Abby sat in the waiting area attached to the intensive care unit of the hospital and wished she knew if Luke had regained consciousness yet.
She hoped so. Oh, God, she hoped so.
When she’d first seen him, she’d been horrified, sure that Felix hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said that Luke was in a critical condition after the accident.
He’d still been covered in blood when she’d been allowed to enter the trauma unit, and all she could do was pray that the paramedics, who had airlifted him to the hospital, had got to him in time.
And he had been conscious at that time, asking for Abby, as Felix had said. When she’d appeared at his bedside, he’d recognised her instantly, grasping her hand and bringing it to his lips.
‘Love you,’ he’d said, his voice barely recognisable. And Abby had turned her fingers until they were grasping his, uncaring that they were soon as covered in blood as his were.
‘Oh, Luke,’ she’d whispered brokenly, wishing there were something she could do to ease his pain. ‘I love you, too.’
But he hadn’t responded. The nurses in the trauma unit had already been telling her she must wait outside, and Abby had realised Luke hadn’t heard a word she’d said. He’d lost consciousness the moment after he’d spoken those words to her.
Had he even known she was there? She didn’t know, and no one had bothered to tell her. She’d just been shunted into the corridor and told to find the waiting area.
Her only comfort had been Felix, who had been pacing about the room where relatives and friends were expected to wait.
He’d seen her tear-stained face, and had immediately come to give her a hug. ‘He’ll make it,’ he’d told her gruffly. ‘Luke’s a tough customer. No old combine harvester’s going to beat him.’
‘That’s not what you said before,’ Abby had reminded him, sniffing back her tears. ‘Oh, Felix, I feel so responsible.’
‘Why?’
Felix had been so sympathetic that she hadn’t been able to stop herself from telling him about the row they’d had before Luke had left the apartment.
Somehow, she’d managed not to mention the baby. That was something Luke would have to tell him if—when—he recovered.
Of course, Felix had reassured her that she was blaming herself unnecessarily. As far as he knew, Luke hadn’t been driving recklessly, as he might have been if he’d been in a bad frame of mind. He’d simply been going to see his father, before driving back to London.
‘The accident could have happened to anyone,’ he’d said gently. ‘Try and relax. We may have some time to wait.’
Luke’s father had arrived a few minutes later. He’d come into the waiting room looking dazed, and Felix had immediately gone to speak to him.
There’d been a whispered conversation, during which the older man had cast a questioning look in Abby’s direction. She’d guessed he was asking who she was and Felix was telling him.
Then Felix had accompanied him along the corridor to the ICU.
Felix had eventually returned alone, and for the next few hours they’d sat mostly in silence, only exchanging an occasional word, each occupied with their own thoughts.
The following morning, a doctor—she didn’t know his name—had come to inform them that Luke was in a coma. He’d said they shouldn’t worry about it; that the doctors were doing all they could to relieve his pain. He’d said he would let them know as soon as the patient was conscious again.
Apparently unaware that Abby’s face had lost all colour, he’d then suggested they should go home and get some rest. He’d said he’d phone them if there was any news.
Abby hadn’t wanted to leave the hospital. She’d been afraid that something terrible might happen if she wasn’t there.
But Felix had reminded her that she couldn’t stay in the waiting room indefinitely. And Harley was at home, waiting to be fed.
But that had been three days ago now. And, although she’d gone through the motions of caring for Harley, putting notices out that the café would be closed for the foreseeable future, reassuring her neighbours that she wasn’t ill, but that a close friend was, her heart had never been in it.
She’d phoned the hospital constantly. But, as she wasn’t a close relative, their information had been impersonal at best. Felix had given her his number, thank goodness,