Jessica Matthews - Six-Week Marriage Miracle

“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.”