Six-Week Marriage Miracle

“Hi, honey. I’m home.”

CHAPTER TWO

UNCERTAIN of the reception he’d receive when he finally saw Leah again, Gabriel’s tension had escalated with each mile closer to his destination. Considering how Sheldon hadn’t been able to reach her all morning, Gabe had expected her to be surprised and shocked by his astonishing return and she didn’t disappoint him.

“Gabe?” she whispered in that soft voice he remembered so vividly. “Is it really you?”

He met her gaze and offered a rueful smile. “A little the worse for wear but, yes, it is.”

“Oh, my.” She covered her mouth with both hands. Suddenly, she turned pale and a dazed look came to her eyes.

She was going to faint. Cursing because he wasn’t in a position to catch her himself, he roared, “Sheldon!”

Fortunately, his second-in-command was beside her and grabbed her arm. At the same time the paramedic did the same. For an instant she sagged, then straightened and shrugged off the two men’s hold.

“I’m okay,” she insisted, losing a bit of her deer-caught-in-the-headlights look.

“Are you sure?” The paramedic didn’t sound convinced as he eyed her closely.

“I’m fine. Really.”

Of course she was, Gabe thought wryly. Leah thrived on her ability to handle anything and everything by herself, without help from anyone. In fact, at times he’d felt rather superfluous in their marriage, but he intended to change all that.

“Truly,” she insisted, tentatively reaching toward him.

Eager to touch her and prove just how wrong the reports of his death had been, as well as to reassure himself that he was truly home, Gabe grabbed her hand.

Her skin was soft and warm and soothingly familiar. Oh, how he’d missed her!

Before he could say a word, before he could do anything but entwine his fingers with hers, she flung herself against him and buried her face in his shoulder.

His crutch clattered to the concrete and his ribs protested, but having her in his arms where she belonged was worth the pain. When his plane had landed and Leah hadn’t been standing with Jack’s and Theresa’s elated families on the tarmac, he’d been so afraid … but this was the response he’d dreamed of and hoped for every night they’d been lost in the jungle.

The coldness of despair, the survivor’s guilt, and the soul-racking regret that he’d labored under for weeks now began to diminish until he slowly felt warm from the inside out.

His wife’s fresh, clean scent filled his nostrils and reminded him of how desperately he needed soap and water. If he’d been thinking properly, he might have asked Sheldon to detour to his corporate offices where he could have made use of the executive washroom, but he’d been too eager to see Leah to consider it. Quite frankly, though, with his stiff shoulder and the slow-healing gash on his leg, he wasn’t sure he could manage the feat on his own, anyway.

He gripped her with his good arm, feeling her slight frame shake beneath his hand. As her tears soaked his shirt, his throat tightened and his eyes burned with more emotion than he could begin to describe.

“Oh, honey. Don’t cry,” he said hoarsely, relieved by her reception and grateful the paramedics and ER staff were giving them a few minutes before they whisked him away.

“I’m not,” she sniffed, swiping at the moisture on her cheeks as she stared at him. “Oh, Gabe. I can’t believe it.”

As he gazed at her, one thought ran through his mind. She was beautiful—more beautiful than the picture he’d slipped out of his wallet and stuck in his shirt pocket shortly after they’d crashed. The photo was now dog-eared and a little dirty, but her image had given him the incentive to keep going when he’d sworn he couldn’t hobble another step.

“I can’t quite believe it, either,” he said ruefully. As far as he was concerned, this was a dream come true. A bona fide miracle.

More importantly, it was a miracle he wasn’t going to let slip through his fingers.

“What happened?” she asked.

“It’s a long story.” Rather than dwell on that fateful day and the events leading up to it, he drank in everything about her, from her acorn-colored hair and eyes that reminded him of the Grand Canyon’s various shades of brown to her retroussé nose and sensual mouth. She’d lost weight, too, if his hands hadn’t deceived him.

The paramedic stepped close to interrupt. “I don’t mean to cut short your reunion, Dr. Montgomery, but let’s get you inside before you fall.”

Whether she suddenly realized how heavily he was leaning against her or the paramedic’s statement had reminded her of his injuries, his prim and proper wife—and she still was his wife, even if they’d lived apart for the last twelve months—unwrapped herself from him and took his good arm. Although he missed her embrace, he was glad she hadn’t completely turned him loose. Granted, she’d fallen back into nurse mode, but he wanted to believe she needed the contact as much as he did to reassure herself that he was, indeed, alive and well.

Maybe not “well”, he corrected as he lowered himself into a hastily provided wheelchair, but his aches and pains now seemed inconsequential. For the past month he’d fought his fears of failure—fears that the feelings she’d once had for him were gone—but he took heart that she hadn’t rejected him. In the nightmares that had often startled him awake, he’d dreamt she’d take one look at him and walk away. Thankfully, none of those painfully vivid dreams had come true.

They still had issues to resolve but he was cautiously optimistic about success. If he played his cards right—and he intended to because he’d had a month to plan a strategy—there wouldn’t be any more talk of a divorce. Fate had given him a second chance to correct his mistakes and undo the past. He would not fail.

Leah wanted to ask a hundred questions, but Gabe’s slumped shoulders as she walked beside his wheelchair told her how exhausted he was. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen him so drained, even during his residency when forty-eight-hour shifts had been the norm. There would be plenty of time to hear his story after his medical needs were addressed—starting with how he’d survived a supposedly fatal accident.

It wasn’t until he’d gingerly moved from his wheelchair to the bed with her help and that of a paramedic that she realized the awkwardness of the situation. As a nurse she belonged in the room, but as his estranged wife she certainly didn’t. Unfortunately, by the time she’d come to that conclusion, the other nurses had already disappeared into their respective patients’ rooms, leaving her no choice but to continue. Asking for a reassignment now would only draw unwanted and unnecessary attention. As soon as word leaked of Gabe’s return, speculation would run rampant anyway.

In spite of resigning herself to her temporary fate, her awkwardness grew exponentially as Jeff Warren took that moment to walk into the room. The normally implacable blond physician stopped abruptly in his tracks, as if he hadn’t realized the identity of his patient until now. Immediately, he glanced back at Leah and she shrugged helplessly, realizing that this moment was as uncomfortable for him as it was for her. The only difference was Jeff seemed to recover more quickly from his surprise than she had.

“Gabe,” he said, reaching out to shake his hand. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks. It’s great to be home.”

“I’ll do my best to get you there,” Jeff promised. “Let’s have a look at what you’ve done to yourself, shall we?”

Leah had planned to act as usual, giving Gabe the same objective care she’d give any other patient. However, that was easier said than done. The minute he shrugged off his tattered shirt, she saw the physical evidence of what he’d endured. His bones stood out in stark relief to the scabbed-over scrapes and large, brilliantly colored patches of purple, yellow and green that dotted his skin, while other areas were rubbed raw.

“Oh, Gabe,” she breathed.

“It looks worse than it is,” he assured her.

Objectively speaking, he was probably right, but through the eyes of someone who’d once carefully and lovingly mapped every inch of his six-foot body, she wasn’t as certain. It became far too easy to imagine how he’d earned each scrape and each bruise and then marvel at how he’d endured the trauma and still returned home. His obvious weight loss made her wonder what he’d eaten, if anything, which was another facet of his ordeal she hadn’t considered until now.

Part of her wanted to hug him again, to erase those physical hurts with a soft and gentle touch. The other part of her wanted to rail at him, ask if his injuries had been worth those extra duties he’d assumed and the additional trips he’d taken on behalf of his family’s charitable organization.

More importantly, though, she wanted to lock herself in the restroom so she could cry because, however illogical it seemed, she somehow felt responsible—not for the crash itself, or even for this particularly fateful international jaunt, but for sending him into the ever-eager arms of the Montgomery Medical Foundation. Had she not rejected his comfort after their adoption had fallen through, he wouldn’t have found his purpose in his work. With the schedule he’d set for himself, both before their separation and after, it was almost amazing that disaster hadn’t struck before now.

Regardless of where she laid blame or how she took responsibility, what mattered most for now was the state of Gabe’s health, not rehashing the mistakes or hurts of the past.

“Leah?”

Hearing her name, she pulled her thoughts together and met Jeff’s questioning gaze. He was obviously reading more into her inattentiveness than she wanted.

“Maybe you should take a break,” he suggested softly.

She was tempted to take his advice, but she’d never deserted a patient before and she wouldn’t start now. She shook her head and squared her shoulders. “I’m fine. Really.”

Jeff simply shrugged, then listened to Gabe’s chest sounds as he spoke. “You still have some nasty injuries. What did you do? Hit every tree in the jungle?”

“It seemed like it,” Gabe mentioned ruefully. “I picked up about half of my bruises and bumps during the crash. Splitting my leg open came later.”

“What happened?”

“In regard to my leg or the crash itself?”

“Both.”

Curious about the details surrounding his experience, Leah listened closely.

“Minutes before we crashed, there was a thump, then an engine sputtered, and Ramon yelled something about birds. The next thing I knew, we were going down.” He paused. “When it was all over, I had a dislocated shoulder and a bad wrist. Jack relocated the bone and immobilized my arm with the supplies out of our first-aid kit. Then we went to find help.”

Leah tried not to imagine the pain he must have endured while Jack had worked on his shoulder without any anesthetic. As an internist, Jack’s basic orthopedic skills were no doubt rusty, but he would have had to proceed because the potential complications like a lack of blood supply and damaged nerves were too serious to ignore. As she surreptitiously studied Gabe’s fingers, the pink skin color and lack of swelling were reassuring signs of his success.

“Needless to say, it took us a while to find another human being,” he added wryly, “although, technically, a few locals found us when they stumbled across our path. We stayed in their village overnight but before they took us to the next town, the search team had tracked us there. And here we are.”

“You’re lucky they found you at all,” Leah interjected. “We were told you were dead.” Thank goodness Sheldon had persisted with cutting through the red tape to send in their own team. If they’d accepted the official verdict and let matters lie … the idea of Gabe and his colleagues still wandering through the jungle sent a chill down her spine.

“I’m not surprised the authorities assumed the worst,” Gabe said, his voice pained. “We’d stopped inches away from a ravine and thought we were on safe ground. Not long afterwards, the ground gave way and the plane slid over the edge. On its way down, the fuel tanks blew.”

Mentally picturing the scene, Leah shuddered as her grip tightened on the blood-pressure cuff she was still holding.

“You three are celebrities now,” Jeff remarked. “Not many people walk away from an experience like that.”

Gabe’s face became stoic, his expression shuttered. “Two of my group didn’t.”

“Who?” she asked, hating it that not everyone associated with Montgomery Medical would have a happy ending.

“Will. Will Henderson, and Ramon.”

Will was an information technology guru Gabe had hired about eighteen months ago to facilitate the internet connections between remote medical clinics and hospitals to specialists at centers like Spring Valley. Leah had met him a few times but had never had any dealings with him.

Ramon Diaz, however, was a man she knew quite well. As the first pilot Gabe had ever hired and the organization’s most senior pilot, Ramon had usually taken charge of Gabe’s flights. He’d also begun dating Theresa, one of the foundation’s nurses, right before Leah and Gabe had split up, and had recently proposed to her. No doubt they’d both been thrilled to go on this trip together. How sad it had ended so horribly.

“Oh, Gabe,” she breathed, knowing how the loss of two people who had been more friends than employees must weigh heavily on him. She dropped the cuff and clutched his hand in sympathy. “Did they … suffer?”

“Will didn’t. He died in the crash. Ramon … died later.”

Gabe’s tight-lipped expression suggested there was a lot more to his story, but she didn’t press for details. “I’m sorry, both for you and the company. Theresa must be devastated.”

“She’s having a tough time,” Gabe agreed.

Making a mental note to visit with Theresa as soon as she was able, Leah watched as Jeff unwrapped the bandage around Gabe’s leg. The gash was red and swollen, but didn’t look nearly as bad as Leah had anticipated.

“I’ve seen worse,” the doctor remarked, apparently agreeing with her opinion. “How long ago did this happen?”

“About ten days. I slid down a hill and bumped into a few rocks along the way. One of them sliced my skin.”

“Then it definitely isn’t healing as fast as I’d like.”

“We cleaned it as best we could but, as you can see, our topical ointment couldn’t quite do the job.” Gabe winced as his colleague probed the area and his grip on her hand tightened. “Sutures might have helped, but those weren’t available, either.”

Leah wasn’t fooled by his innocent tone or his condensed version of events. He could probably talk for hours about their struggle for the things she took for granted—food, water, protection from the elements and safety from predators. And he’d definitely had a difficult time because his clothing appeared as if he’d walked through a shredder.

As for his injuries, he’d made them sound as if they were nothing more than minor inconveniences when they were visible proof of his harrowing ordeal. Cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder were painful under ideal conditions and to “slide down a hill and bump into a few rocks” before they’d healed would have been agony. If the truth were known, it wouldn’t surprise her to learn that his so-called “hill” could probably compete with Pikes Peak and his “few rocks” had probably been boulders.

She wanted to throttle him for acting as if his stint in the jungle had been as easy and effortless as a Sunday stroll through the city park. Making a big deal out of bumps and bruises, gashes and cracked bones went against his macho grain, even if he was speaking to a physician who recognized what it took to create this degree of damage. There were two females in the room, too, and it wouldn’t do to appear weak in front of them. In essence, it was a guy thing—part of that caveman, show-the-woman-who’s-strongest mentality.

It was also a Gabe thing. He’d always tried his best to insulate her from the harsh realities of life instead of treating her as a partner in the challenges they faced—and they’d had a number of personal difficulties and tragedies to contend with. Obviously, he still pictured her as being too weak to face the truth. While some women might appreciate being treated like a Fabergé egg, she wasn’t one of them. After ten years of marriage, Gabe should have learned that, but he hadn’t.

As soon as she recognized the familiar resentment building inside her, she wondered why her former frustrations were rearing their heads again. She should be elated Gabe was home safe and more or less sound and not dredging up old complaints. Her only excuse was that she could finally give herself permission to be angry about his decision to take this flight in the first place.

Yet, however one might psychoanalyze her reaction, Gabe’s return didn’t wipe their slate of problems clean. They still had to be addressed in some manner and the easiest and most expedient method was to get his signature on those divorce documents, wherever they currently were.

Realizing her fingers were still entwined with his, she pulled her hand free.

Jeff’s gaze was speculative as he glanced at her. He’d clearly noticed how her touch had lingered longer than was actually necessary, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he finished his exam and tucked his stethoscope back into his pocket with deliberate movements.

“All things considered,” he said, “you’re not in too bad a shape.” He paused ever so slightly as his gaze slid sideways to Leah and then back to Gabe. “You’re a lucky fellow in more ways than one.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” Gabe answered fervently.

A meaningful note in his tone made Leah question if the two men were discussing Gabe’s health or if this was some sort of private male discussion, but before she could wade into the conversation, Jeff fell back into his professional mode.

“You’ve probably diagnosed yourself, but I want X-rays to check your ribs and your arm as well as basic bloodwork and cultures. To be honest, I’m not happy with the way your leg is healing, so prepare yourself for a few rounds of IV antibiotics.” He glanced at Leah. “I want those started immediately.”

Considering the state of Gabe’s leg, Jeff’s treatment plan was not only sound, it was necessary to stop the infection from turning septic. Without a word, she began pulling the appropriate IV supplies from the cabinet.

Gabe sighed audibly, as if he also knew the IV was necessary but wasn’t particularly happy about it. “I’d expected as much.”

“I’m glad we agree. After I see the films and lab results, we’ll talk again.”

“Any chance I can shower in the doctors’ lounge before you run me through the testing mill?” Gabe’s expression was hopeful. He might be the full-time CEO of the Montgomery Medical Foundation but he was also a member of the surgical staff at Spring Valley Memorial and, as such, he filled in a few nights a month and the occasional weekend when the regular surgeons took time off.

“Of course,” Jeff agreed, “but if we delay your tests, we also delay your treatment. So let’s do the cultures, blood samples and X-rays first, then by the time you finish your shower, we’ll have answers and can decide what comes next.”

Knowing how Gabe hated to compromise, Leah expected him to argue, but to her surprise, he didn’t. “Okay. If it means I’ll get out of here sooner, we’ll do it your way.”

Jeff grinned. “I’m glad to hear it. While you’re stuck in Radiology, I’ll see about arranging for first-class bathroom accommodations.” He turned to Leah. “He’s all yours for now.”

It was a throw-away statement, a figure of speech, but she wondered if his qualifier referred to tending Gabe’s injuries or if it had more personal overtones. Because it was far easier to fall back on the comforting routine of following a doctor’s orders, she did so, determined to leave the soul-searching for later when her mind had stopped reeling.

Thank goodness experience allowed her to perform her tasks without thinking as she still considered Gabe’s return as nothing short of miraculous. Thankfully, and perhaps Jeff had alerted Marge to the situation, Jane came in to help.

“Stay,” Gabe said when Leah tried to escape, and so she did, but by the time he’d finished the lab draws and X-rays, his face was white and pinched with pain. Clearly, he was in desperate need of rest.

“I think the shower should wait,” she began.

His jaw squared. “No way.”

“Not even until you’ve napped a few hours?”

“Not even then.”

Seeing how unsteady he was on his feet, she offered, “How about a sponge bath instead?”

His eyes lit with an unholy gleam before it faded. “As intriguing as that sounds, I want a shower that lasts until I empty the hot water tanks. I need a shower because I’m tired of smelling myself.”

“You smell fresher than some patients who’ve walked through our doors,” she replied.

“Too bad. I know what I want and I want water. Gallons and gallons of it.”

“But you can hardly—”

His gaze was determined. “Trust me. I can and will do whatever I have to.”

She wanted him to be reasonable and take her advice, but if he’d found the fortitude to survive the jungle, he’d find the energy reserves to shower. However, as both his nurse and his wife, she’d watch to ensure he didn’t over-extend himself.

“You always were stubborn,” she remarked.

He nodded. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Well, hang tight while I see what I can arrange.”

After a short consultation in the hallway where she couldn’t speak privately to Jeff because Jane was part of their group, Leah wheeled Gabe to the nearby med-surg wing and into a patient room. She expected him to protest at the obvious implication, but he was too intent on his prize and didn’t.

While he brushed his teeth with the spare toiletry kit she’d commandeered from their supply cabinet, she located towels and soap so he could finally indulge in his much-wanted and much-needed shower in the wheelchair-accessible bathroom.

After removing his splint—the X-ray had shown the bones in his arm and shoulder weren’t broken—she covered his IV site with plastic so it wouldn’t get wet.

“I’ll be out here if you need me,” she told him. “Be careful with your leg and when you’re finished, I’ll dress it.”

While he hobbled into the shower, she turned down his bed and double-checked the medications that Jane had delivered. When she had everything in place except for her patient, she returned to the bathroom and stood in the doorway.

“How are you doing in there?” She raised her voice over the rushing water, noting he’d had at least a seven-minute shower.

“Fine.” A groan came from behind the curtain.

That didn’t sound good. Instantly worried, she straightened, ready to invade his privacy. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. God, this feels so good.”

The awe in his voice reminded her of other times when he’d said the same, under more intimate circumstances. She quickly stuffed those thoughts inside her mental box labeled “to be opened at a later date”. “I’m sure it does, but Jeff wants those antibiotics started ASAP.”

“Just a few more minutes.”

“The shower will still be here, waiting for you, tomorrow,” she coaxed.

“I know, but five more minutes. Please.”

It seemed cruel to deny him this simple pleasure when those extra minutes probably wouldn’t affect his treatment outcome. “Okay, but I’m timing you.”

“You’re the boss.”

If that were only true.

“I’d get done faster if you scrubbed my back for me,” he added.

He sounded so hopeful and so like the old Gabe—the Gabe before their lives had drifted apart—that she flashed back to those happier times when they had shared a shower. The memory of the subsequent lovemaking burst into her head, but it was more than simple recall. She replayed how it had felt—from the sensation of his rough skin against hers, the tickle of his breath and his lips on sensitive areas, his clean, sandalwood scent teasing her nose.