The cruelty of the situation wasn’t lost on Paul. In four days, Lynda and Matt would have become husband and wife. That wouldn’t be happening now.
“Does Matt have family we should contact?” Paul asked.
“Stephanie reached his brother in Seattle,” Kathleen said. “She’s been making calls to let the rest of the family know. His brother said he’d try to get a flight out tomorrow. Stephanie arrives tomorrow at nine.”
Paul nodded, then turned his attention back to Susan. Her face was pale, with shadows beneath her eyes that spoke of more than just tonight’s crisis. She looked worn down in a way that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion.
“Have you eaten anything?” he asked.
“Kathleen bought me a cup of coffee.”
“That’s not food.” Paul glanced at the others. “Has anyone eaten?”
The guilty silence was answer enough.
“There’s a cafeteria on the first floor,” Isabel offered. “I’m not sure what’s available at this hour, but they might have sandwiches.”
“I’ll go,” Paul said. “Does anyone have dietary restrictions I should know about?”
“Kathleen prefers not to have red meat,” Isabel said. “The rest of us will eat whatever you bring.”
Paul squeezed Susan’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back. If Lynda comes out before I get here, tell her I’m thinking about her and Matt.”
He took the elevator down to the main floor, grateful for a few minutes to collect his thoughts. The cafeteria was almost deserted. The only people there were a tired-looking cashier and a janitor mopping the far corner. The hot food line was closed, but the refrigerated case still held wrapped sandwiches and salads.
He selected carefully: turkey and Swiss for most of them, a Mediterranean wrap for Kathleen, bottles of water, packages of trail mix. The kind of food that would give them energy without sitting heavily in worried stomachs.
When he returned to the waiting room, Lynda had emerged from the ICU. She sat between Susan and Isabel, her face blotchy and swollen from crying. Her hands shook as she accepted the water bottle Paul offered.
“How is he?” Paul asked gently.
“He doesn’t look like himself.” Lynda’s voice broke. “All the tubes and machines. His face is so bruised I barely recognized him.” She pressed the cold water bottle against her forehead. “They said I could stay as long as I want, but only one person at a time, so I came out to give someone else a chance.”
“You should go back in,” Isabel said firmly. “He needs you there. We’re fine out here.”
“I will. I just needed a minute.” Lynda looked at Paul, her eyes swimming with fresh tears. “Thank you for coming. Susan’s been so strong, but I know this is hard for her too.”
Paul glanced at Susan, who was determinedly unwrapping a sandwich she clearly had no intention of eating.
“We’re all here for you,” he said to Lynda. “Whatever you need.”
They sat together in the antiseptic quiet of the waiting room, picking at the food Paul had brought. Kathleen managed to eat half of her wrap. Isabel finished hers and insisted Lynda do the same. Susan took a few bites before setting the sandwich aside.
After fifteen minutes, Lynda stood. “I’m going back in. They said I can talk to him even though he’s sedated. It might help with his brain activity.”
“Then talk to him,” Susan said. “Tell him about the wedding plans. Tell him about the honeymoon you both planned. Give him reasons to fight.”
Lynda nodded and disappeared back through the ICU doors.
Patrick arrived a few minutes later, and Kathleen sunk into his tight embrace. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here any sooner. How’s Matt doing?” he asked.
Kathleen sighed. “He’s still alive.”
While Isabel and Kathleen told Patrick what had been happening, Paul moved his chair closer to Susan’s and held her hand. Her fingers were cold despite the warmth of the waiting room.
“Your text earlier,” he said quietly. “I meant what I said in my response. Every word.”
“I know.” Susan’s thumb traced circles on his palm. “I’ve been holding back, waiting for some imaginary moment when everything felt safe enough to risk my heart again. And then Matt’s accident happened, and I realized there is no safe moment. There’s just now.”
