Raw and Broken Ch. 04

The nurse's station was usually void of any staff when we arrived as the three nurses on shift were running their morning bed checks. I knew that while both patients on either side of Drake's room were in stable condition, they had to be constantly monitored due to having had a stroke. Alarms for both of them had gone off many times during our visits, usually due to the patient pulling a wire or tube loose. While annoying, it did liven things up during the somewhat mundane hours we'd already spent here.

So I thought nothing of the empty station and the flashing light on the panel as we walked past—or the shrill beeping of an alarm. At least not until we rounded the hall and saw all of the ICU staff crammed into my husband's room. Dr. Lister was there as well, towering over the ladies.

I lurched forward, but Malcolm pulled me back. "Daphne, wait!"

"Stop! Let me go! Drake!"

I struggled, but Malcolm turned me around so I wasn't facing the controlled chaos and held me tight.

"Let them do their job," Becca said, her voice choked with tears.

I gripped Malcolm's shoulders and stared wide-eyed at her. My words I'd spoken on Wednesday echoed in my head. "I didn't mean it! I swear, I was just—"

"Shh, I know, sweetie." Becca put her hands on my cheeks, sandwiching her husband between us. "It was a bad day for all of us. You were just venting. No one blames you."

"But if he—" I couldn't say the word aloud.

Suddenly, I felt Malcolm release me. And then I was in a strange man's arms.

"I'm so sorry, Daphne," his rough voice said in my ear.

I looked up to see Drake's face. I shrieked and pulled away. Fell into another set of arms.

Becca turned me toward her. "Daphne, it's Alexander. It's okay."

I stared at the man. Blinked a couple of times. She was right.

The man standing before me wasn't Drake. But he sure as hell looked like him. Younger but just as dashing. Alexander, not Drake. Her younger—not kinky—brother. I'd only met him once, at my wedding. I moved my mouth to apologize, but dammit, nothing came out.

"What happened?" Malcolm said.

"He went into cardiac arrest," a woman said. It took me a moment to recognize her as the other Mrs. Rockland, my mother-in-law, Beth. An older but definitely just as beautiful version of Becca. Again, I'd last seen her at my wedding. How long a year could be. She paused to hug Becca before she gathered me into her arms. "Oh, my dear, Daphne."

Over her shoulder, I saw Alexander and a young, striking woman—Cameron, if I correctly remembered the name Becca had told me yesterday—consoling Malcolm and Becca. They were engaged now. Another Mrs. Rockland in the wings. I heard them say they'd taken an earlier flight. They'd only been here a few minutes when the alarm went off.

I chastised myself for the extra hour of sleep I'd gotten. What if we'd been here sooner? Would it have made a difference?

The alarm suddenly went silent. Our little group stopped talking. Even the sounds of the other women crying ceased. The stillness felt like we were all holding our breaths.

I turned toward the room, but the nurses' bodies—four, not three, from the heads I counted—blocked me from seeing anything significant. What did no alarm mean in this case? Had they fixed the problem?

Eventually, the glass door to the room slid open, and Dr. Lister stepped into the hallway. He nodded at each of us in turn, but his eyes finally rested on mine. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Rockland. We've done all we can. You have my deepest sympathies."

Everything happened in slow motion. I clutched my chest. That buzzing sound returned in my ears. My vision blurred. Dr. Lister caught me as my legs gave out.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting on a chair. A nurse with 'Val' on her nametag was kneeling next to me, telling me to take slow, deep breaths. I heard wailing as she wrapped a cuff around my arm and took my blood pressure. When she asked if I was going to faint, I shook my head.

I blinked, surprised that there were no tears in my eyes. On my face. I wasn't the one who was crying so loudly. A slow glance around showed Beth was also sitting in a chair with Cameron hovering over her. Malcolm held Becca beside them while Alexander stood between the two couples. Dr. Lister was talking to the two men, and both were nodding at whatever the doctor said.

Straight across from where I sat, I saw that all but one nurse, Melanie, had filed out of Drake's room. I could see his body now. It didn't appear to be any different than the previous three days. The one exception was the pulled back sheet... and his hospital gown appeared to be split down the middle, revealing his chest.

My legs were wobbly as I stood and crossed the short distance to where my husband lie. The door slid closed behind me as I entered his room, cutting off all other noise. Melanie gave me a sad smile and offered her condolences.

I inhaled and held it. Counted to ten. My exhale wracked my ribcage with shudders.

As I stepped up to Drake's bedside, my eyes scanned over his body. Noticed the defibrillation pads still on his chest from where they'd shocked him. The lack of movement there now. If I had any doubt about his status, the silent but straight, green line on the one screen that hadn't been turned off yet was the final proof.

My husband was truly gone.

Melanie pulled the sheet up to Drake's chin before she moved to give me more room.

The large hose leading to the ventilator was no longer connected, but the smaller tube in his airway remained. I pointed at the oval piece of plastic taped to each side of his mouth. Got choked up on the words. "Can you...?"

She nodded and carefully removed the tube and mouth piece, as if he could feel it. Drake's mouth remained open after she stepped out of the way again. Melanie pressed a button on the heart monitor, and the final screen went black.

I heard the door swish open then close behind me as I was left alone. For a moment, I just stood there with my arms crossed. Listening. I had taken some comfort in the mechanical noises these past few days. They had given me something to cling to. Dr. Lister would treat the tumor, and we would finally see who the real Drake Rockland was. But the silence meant all hope was gone. Forever.

I gently closed Drake's mouth, feeling the stubble on his chin. I was surprised at how warm he still was. As if he were just sleeping. I took his right hand in both of mine. Just as it had been since Wednesday, he remained still. I choked on tears as I silently willed him to respond. Even just a twitch of his fingers to prove the doctor—the technology—wrong. But there was nothing.

Very lightly, I ran my fingers over his rough lips, trying to remember the last time he'd kissed me. It had been months due to our agreement to abstain from intimacy while we healed our marriage. Although we'd fucked, he hadn't kissed me the night after Jimmy left our house. Maybe it had been sometime earlier in the week. It was difficult to think back that far.

A little voice in my head reminded me I'd thought it would be better this way. I stomped it down and angrily told it I had not wished this upon him or any of us. I refused to feel any guilt for Drake's death.

Just like everything else in my life, I would get past it. I would soldier on. Somehow.

###

A heavy thunderstorm hit the coast as soon as we got back to Malcolm and Becca's house. I listened to the pouring rain as I lay in bed, waiting for my pill to take effect. I'd tried to sit with the family around the living room and talk about Drake, but it had been too difficult so I'd excused myself.

I spent the rest of the day sleeping peacefully despite the storm that raged outside as well as within. The medication seemed to ward off any nightmares. For now. I knew they would come, eventually. Until then, I was grateful for the temporary respite.

When I woke the next morning, it was still raining. I rolled over and pulled the blankets around me. The window was still slightly ajar, and the breeze made my cheeks feel chilled as fresh tears made their way toward the pillow.

Nature finally made me get up. My legs managed to get me to the bathroom without too much issue. I only stumbled once...when I saw that the hallway wall had been scrubbed clean and a throw rug had been laid over the carpeting where I'd made a mess. I'd caused all this. My selfishness almost four months ago had started a chain reaction. And it had ended in disaster.

Drake's rush to get to the hospital because of my miscarriage had resulted in his accident and ultimate coma. An unfortunate situation. But if he hadn't run the red light and hit his head when he'd T-boned that other car...how much longer would the tumor have remained hidden?

When I got back to bed, I noticed a glass of water and a white pill in a little plastic cup on the nightstand. Malcolm or Becca must have brought it at some point. I downed both and climbed beneath the covers.

It took longer to fall back asleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured Drake's face. And when I finally did drift off, it was only for a short time. I woke covered in sweat, wondering where I was. Calling out to Drake. When my senses came back to me, I curled into a ball and cried, wishing I had a different life.

Malcolm came to check on me throughout the day. I ignored my rumbling tummy when he offered me food. He held me a couple of times and offered soft words of encouragement. I just cried until I was sleepy again, and I knew he went off to repeat the process with his wife.

On the second morning, I took a shower. But I sat on the expansive porch staring out to sea. While it had stopped raining, the sky was overcast, and the air held a chill that seemed to reach right through my sweatpants and sweatshirt. I accepted the fluffy blanket Malcolm brought me...and the constant refills of coffee.

It was mid-afternoon before I saw Becca. I assumed she had been doing her own hiding out in the observation room or her bedroom. Her eyes were red and puffy, and I was sure my own looked very similar. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as well and joined me on the porch.

For the longest time, neither of us spoke. Neither of us cried. We just sat drinking coffee, enjoying the company but also the peaceful silence.

It took both Malcolm and Alexander to coax us inside a few hours later. My cheeks were freezing by then, but I didn't care. I could see Becca's hands were shaking and her face was flush. She didn't complain, either.

After we had warmed up, Beth insisted we have a little ceremony out on the beach to say goodbye to Drake and Lily, her son and granddaughter. She did all of the talking, but each of us tossed bouquets of wildflowers into the surf at sunset. Both of mine had a sand dollar tied to them, treasures I'd found on my many walks since living here. The family left Becca and standing on the beach, our arms linked as we stared off into the vast waters, the wind whipping our hair around our faces.

We had dinner delivered, which I devoured while I was filled in on the plans discussed over the past two days. It was agreed to have Drake cremated. Beth wanted to take his ashes back to Illinois where she could bury them in the family plot. I openly consented...it felt like closure for me.

Malcolm had already called Drake's boss and passed on the news. He said he would also help me handle any legal issues. But when I learned that Alexander had offered to take care of selling the house I'd shared with Drake out in California...

I was refilling my water at the fridge when I heard him say he could fly out as soon as next weekend to get the house ready for listing. I dropped the glass, which shattered on the travertine-tile floor. Both that sound and my scream had everyone running to the kitchen.

Becca reached me first with Malcolm close behind. "Daphne! Are you okay? Don't move."

I nodded as I stared at the puddle of water surrounding my bare feet. At the sparkling pieces of glass as the light caught them. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize." Malcolm surprised me by swooping me up into his arms. "Did you get cut?"

"I'm fine. Just startled." My chest tightened. The last time I'd been held like this was on my wedding night. That special day seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Take her to the bathroom to wash her feet off," Becca said as Malcolm started to set me on my feet out of harms way. "We'll clean this up."

Alexander had stooped to pick up the biggest shards. And Cameron was already carefully blotting up the water with paper towels. Beth asked where the broom and dustpan were.

"Yes, Ma'am," Malcolm said. He straightened up and adjusted my weight in his arms as he winked at me.

I heard Becca tell her mom to go sit back down as Malcolm maneuvered down the hall, mindful to not knock my feet on the wall. He seemed like a pro. As if this wasn't the first time he'd carried a woman through the house like this. Lucky Becca.

Once we were in the bathroom and I was sitting on the edge of the sink, I hissed at him. "Alexander can't sell my house!"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Why not? I would think you'd be grateful to not have to deal with it."

"There are some things..."

"I'm sure he'll be discreet with your lingerie."

"I don't care if he sees my underwear." I sighed and rolled my eyes. Did I really have to spell it out? I lowered my voice even more. "We have a secret room."

He chuckled as he inspected my left foot for any stray pieces of glass. "Is that what this is all about?"

I closed my eyes. "And a built-in torture corner."

"Oh, really now?"

I opened one eye to see him grinning at me. "I'm serious. We have to find a way to dismantle—"

"I understand, Daphne. Consider it taken care of."

"Um, there's one more thing."

He let out a big sigh. "What is it?"

I cringed. "I don't know the code."

He stood and put his hands on his hips. "Let me get this straight. You have a locked, kinky room with a torture device that needs to be removed before you sell the house. But you can't get into the room."

I bit my bottom lip and slowly nodded at him.

He sighed again, but he was smiling. "You don't make anything easy, do you?"

I just shrugged. Inside, I wanted to cry. I'd spent quite a bit of today thinking about mine and Drake's dedicated sessions. I missed the times in that room. Well, most of them. Now there would be no more.

"I'll see what I can do to delay Alex's trip." He knelt again, lifting my right foot. "And break into the room without causing too much damage."

"I should probably go myself and take what I want."

"We could all go. Meaning, you, Becca, and I. If we wait until after Thanksgiving, I'll be on winter break. It will probably take longer than a weekend to get the house ready."

"You'd do that?"

Malcolm released my foot, which banged against the cabinet beneath the sink. He put both hands on either side of me on the counter. Then he got so close to my face I had to lean back until I hit the mirror with my head. "Daphne, when are you going to realize we are your family? We would do anything for you. It doesn't matter that Drake is gone. It doesn't change a thing. Do you understand? Can you?"

I nodded slowly, my heart racing.

"Good! Now give me your foot again and hold still. I think you've got a sliver in your toe."

I obeyed while he removed the tiny piece of glass with tweezers. I hadn't even felt it in my skin, nor could I see it very well as he pulled it out. But I heard it when he dropped it in the empty metal wastebasket. He helped me get my foot under the sink, cleaned my wound, bandaged it, and helped me down from the counter.

When we returned to the living room, the kitchen had been cleaned up and a fresh glass of water was waiting for me on the coffee table. I glanced at Malcolm as I sat down, and he raised an eyebrow. I gave him a thumbs up, to which he smiled and turned to talk to his brother-in-law.

I lay in bed that night with an ache in my chest. I had nothing to worry about. I had a roof over my head. My family was here to take care of me. Yet, I still felt something was off. Something was missing.

I realized I needed a purpose. To be more than just Drake's widow. More than Becca and Malcolm's sister-in-law. I needed to find out who I was.

##

Malcolm went back to work on Wednesday. I preoccupied myself with cleaning the mansion, as I'd come to call Malcolm and Becca's house. Becca tried to work on her novel but said she couldn't concentrate, so she ended up helping me.

By Friday, our routines seemed to have gotten back on schedule. I still thought of Drake almost every waking moment, but I could function without feeling like a depressed zombie. And I was given a golden opportunity to spend a lot of time talking with my in-laws. Getting to know them better.

Beth seemed to hold no ill will against me or her late son for our negligence in keeping in touch with her this past year. She said she knew we were still getting settled out west...and apparently trying to start a family, so she understood. I didn't have the heart to correct her. What could I have said, anyway, without revealing our private predilections?

When I came down for breakfast on Saturday morning, everyone was already sitting around the big table between the kitchen and living room. The mood was still somber, but everyone smiled at me and greeted me as I joined them.

"Your phone has been ringing for the past hour," Becca said. She set a cup of coffee in front of me as well as my new phone. The one Drake had bought me after our move to California. I'd left it behind on purpose when I came out east. But he'd brought it back on one of his trips after we reconciled. "You left it charging down here last night."

After we finished eating, I checked the seven missed calls and saw they were all from an unfamiliar number in Chicago. I was going to disregard them until I listened to the three voicemails the caller had left. They were from my original agent, Muriel. The one I'd had an interview with thinking she could help me get an acting job...but she had turned me on to modeling instead.

I'd previously called my last agent in California to ask her for some help finding a modeling job out here in Delaware. I thought maybe I could do some photo shoots until I'd gotten too big or given birth. I had reminded her of my references—which was only the work I'd done with Muriel in Illinois prior to moving out west—but I hadn't heard from her in over a month. The last person I expected to contact me would be my Windy City agent.

Each message encouraged me to call her at the earliest convenience, and she hoped I was doing well. I was considering returning her calls when the doorbell rang. All talking ceased as Malcolm went to answer the door. We heard male voices talking, and then Malcolm reappeared...with Darryl in tow.

"Darryl! Hey, stranger!" Becca jumped up and gave him a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"I was down for a seminar this week. We had plans to discuss the convention before I headed back?" Darryl looked at the three extra members of the family. "But this is obviously a bad time."

Becca smacked her hand over her mouth. "I completely forgot!"

Malcolm sighed. "Yeah, me, too. I just filled him in."

"I'd still like to talk about our options." Becca bit her bottom lip as she watched Malcolm. When he nodded, she smiled.

I was going to ask what they were talking about, but Malcolm ended the discussion.

"I agree," he said. "But later."

"I don't want to intrude," Darryl said. "I can call you when I get home this evening."

"No, stay." Malcolm gestured toward the living room where the rest of the guests were headed as they stood up from the dining table. "You're not intruding at all."

I accepted Darryl's hug as he stopped by me. "How have you been?"