Judith Mcwilliams - Did You Say...Wife?

“No, please, God,” Jocelyn whispered incoherently, straining to see Lucas over the bulk of the black sedan.

As if the sound of her voice were a key, she was suddenly released her from the paralyzing effects of her terror.

She sprinted across the parking lot intent on reaching Lucas. Her mind refused to even contemplate the idea that it might be too late to help him. The thought of a world that didn’t contain the man she loved was too horrific to even contemplate.

She reached the sedan, and a quick glance showed her that Lucas was unconscious and trapped between his rental car and the sedan. Trapped and bleeding badly.

Racing around to the passenger side of the sedan, she pulled the door open. The middle-aged driver looked up and began to babble, “I didn’t mean to hit him. It wasn’t my fault! I slipped on the ice. It wasn’t my fault, I tell you.”

Furious that he was wasting time trying to justify his actions instead of helping Luke, Jocelyn grabbed the man’s coat and, fueled by a surge of adrenaline that left her light-headed, yanked him out of the car.

“It’ll be your fault if you don’t get him help!” Jocelyn yelled at him as she shoved him backward. “Go call an ambulance.”

“An ambulance?” the man parroted and then, when Jocelyn took a step toward him, hurriedly turned and starting running toward the restaurant.

Jocelyn slipped into the driver’s seat of the man’s car and turned the key in the ignition. To her profound relief, the engine turned over. Keeping her foot firmly on the brake so that the car didn’t jump forward, she gently eased the car into Reverse. Once she was sure she was completely clear of Lucas, she hastily backed it completely out of the way and cut the engine.

Jumping out of the car, she ran back to Lucas who was lying on the pavement in a pool of blood.

She dropped to her knees beside him, trying to figure out where all the blood was coming from. His head, she quickly realized. She had to stop the bleeding, she thought as she watched the blood oozing from a wound that started on his right temple and ended somewhere in his thick brown hair.

Reaching into his inside suit pocket, she yanked out the pristine white handkerchief he always carried but never used.

The steady beat of his heart as her hand brushed across his broad chest steadied her somewhat. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it appeared, she tried to tell herself. Head wounds always looked worse than they really were because of all the blood. Anyone who watched television knew that.

Act now, worry later, she told herself, firmly pressing the cloth against the wound.

“Let me in there, miss. I’m a doctor.” A strange man knelt beside her. His large, competent-looking hand closed over her makeshift bandage.

“Honey, get my bag out of the trunk.” The man tossed the command over his shoulder.

An interminable moment later a plump, middle-aged woman carrying a black leather bag gently pushed Jocelyn out of the way and took her place.

“Don’t you worry, dear,” the woman told her. “My husband is as good as they come, and in my heyday I was one of the best O.R. nurses going.”

“That’s nice,” Jocelyn muttered inanely, shivering convulsively as she retreated just far enough to give them room to work. If anything happened to Lucas, she didn’t think she’d ever feel warm again.

Jocelyn closed her eyes and tried to pray, but she couldn’t form a single coherent thought. The sight of Lucas’s white, blood-stained face lying on the black tarmac filled her mind to the exclusion of everything.

“Good, the ambulance is here,” she heard the doctor say, and Jocelyn turned around to see a green-and-white ambulance, its red lights flashing, pulling into the parking lot. Close on its heels was a black-and-white police cruiser.

“Unless I miss my guess, your husband is going to need surgery immediately,” the doctor continued. “It’s a good thing you’re here to give permission. You are his wife, aren’t you?” he asked, suddenly noticing her ring-less fingers.

“Yes.” Jocelyn had no compunction about lying. She’d do whatever it took to make sure Lucas got the help he needed.

“We work together, and I never wear my rings at the office.” She tried to explain away her lack of a wedding ring.

She turned as the ambulance stopped and a husky man and a tall, thin woman jumped out. The man ran to Lucas, took one look and yelled something to the woman. She ran around the back of the ambulance, swung open the doors and yanked a large, red metal box out of it. Racing to Lucas, she squatted beside the doctor and her colleague.

“I tell you it wasn’t my fault, Officer!” The sedan driver’s whiny voice rasped across Jocelyn’s ragged nerves.

She swung around and, her anger fueled by her stark fear for Lucas, snapped, “If you hadn’t been going too fast, you wouldn’t have skidded.”

“What’s the name of…” The policeman glanced down at Lucas’s quiet form and winced.

“Lucas Forester,” Jocelyn supplied.

“And this is his wife, Officer,” the doctor said. “I’ll be in the restaurant if you should need to talk to me.

“Try not to worry, my dear. We have an excellent local hospital.” The doctor patted Jocelyn’s shoulder and then turned and left.

Reaching into his pocket, the policeman pulled out a tissue and handed it to her.

“Wipe your face, Mrs. Forester. As cold as it is out here, your tears will freeze to your skin.”

Tears? Jocelyn ran the back of her hand across her cheek, shocked to find it wet with tears. She scrubbed them away.

“I tell you it wasn’t my fault. How was I supposed to know there was ice there?” the driver of the sedan insisted.

“Not only that, but when she yanked me out of my car, I think I sprained something,” he complained.

The policeman studied Jocelyn’s slight frame for a long moment before he turned and ran his eyes down the entire length of the man’s well-padded, six-foot length.

“And why, sir, did the lady find it necessary to pull you out of your car?” the officer asked.

“I was shocked,” the man blustered. “I was shocked and instead of letting me gather my wits, she just yanked open the door and pulled me out of my own car.”

“considering the amount of intelligence you had shown to date, waiting for you to find any wits you might have would have taken too long!” Jocelyn snapped.

“Well, I—”

“Go into the restaurant, sir, and wait there for me,” the policeman ordered. “I’ll be in to talk to you as soon as Mr. Forester is on his way to the hospital. Edna,” the officer addressed his partner, “go along with him and make sure he doesn’t have anything to drink. I don’t want his blood alcohol results to be questioned.”

“I have not been drinking!” The man glared at the policeman.

“Come along, sir,” Edna took his arm in a firm grip and steered him toward the restaurant.

“Did you see the accident, Mrs. Forester?” the policeman asked Jocelyn.

“Yes, that man saw the last parking space, and he sped up to reach it before the van coming from the other direction got it. Lucas was getting something out of the car when the driver hit a patch of ice and slid into him.”

“How did the car get off him?”

“I forced that—” Jocelyn glared at the departing back of the still volatile protesting man “—excuse for a driver out of his car, and I reversed it off Lucas.”

“Excuse me.” The husky emergency medical technician moved Jocelyn and the policeman aside so he could move in the stretcher.

Jocelyn watched intently as they loaded Lucas aboard the gurney.

“Don’t you worry, ma’am.” The technician paused long enough to give her a reassuring smile. “He’s got a good, strong heartbeat, and head wounds always look much worse than they are. All that blood, you see.”