Page 1 of Ma Belle Marguerite (Hidden Secrets #1)

Isabella

I brush the snow from my jacket as I step inside the hospital where I work. What a horrible drive . I’ve always hated winter because it is so cold and there is too much snow! The only bright side about tonight is that this is my last shift before my vacation in two days.

My husband, Adrien, finally agreed to a family trip now that the twins are older, and we are leaving for Punta Cana as soon as the kids get out of school on Friday. I could not be more excited. Who doesn’t love the feel of sand between their toes?

I look through the glass doors and see the snow still falling heavily. I have a feeling it will be busy tonight with the winter storm we’re having. I had difficulty seeing through the blowing snow on my way in.

I glance at the empty waiting room. I’ve always loved my job in the emergency department at the hospital, but I’ve never done well with the sight of blood, so the receptionist position is better for me.

I’ve been registering patients for eleven years, and I get to see a lot of interesting things while working in the front of the building.

The sound of sirens approaching rings in the distance, and I let out a huff. Of course I had to jinx myself, hoping for a quiet night. I should get to my desk and get ready before we get slammed.

I rush over to my station but pull my phone from my pocket before I sign into the computer. I should call Adrien quickly to make sure he made it home to the kids.

I dial his number, but it goes to voicemail after a few rings. That’s strange; he always answers at this time of night. Maybe the kids have him distracted . I’ll try one more time. I notice a phone ringing close by at the same time as Adrien’s rings in my ear.

That’s weird , I think, but ignore the sound.

It must be a coincidence. Still, I’m oddly on edge and afraid to look.

I glance up nervously as the paramedics pass me and swear I see what looks like my husband's jacket hanging from the stretcher. I gasp as bile rises in the back of my throat. It can’t be. Please, no!

I jump up from my chair and rush out of my cubicle after them, hoping to prove myself wrong. All I hear is my pounding heart in my ears. It’s as if the world has frozen around me. Slowly, I inch closer to the group surrounding the stretcher.

Suddenly, it’s like someone stole all the air from my lungs.

My body refuses to move on its own as I stare in horror at my husband, lying there, receiving CPR.

There are hands on his chest moving up and down with the sound of cracking ribs, while an intubation tube and bag mask helps him breathe.

All I see is red. Where is all this blood coming from?

Why can’t I hear what they’re saying? Buzzing replaces all the sounds of the chaos around me.

The room begins to spin, as arms reach around and support me. Suddenly, hands on my shoulders give me a soft shake before I see the nurse standing before me, her face full of worry.

Sounds rush back to me, and I know they are talking about Adrien. But nothing they’re saying is making any sense.

The nurse leads me to the chairs nearby to sit.

“That can’t be my Adrien, right?” My voice shakes.

I see the look in her eyes and know this isn’t a dream. “I’m afraid it is, Isabella. Let’s just wait here and let them do their job. We don’t want to get in their way,” the nurse says to me quietly. I know her, but I can’t think of her name.

Names seem so trivial when your world feels like it is imploding.

A police officer approaches where I’m sitting and tries to get my attention. I can’t seem to take my eyes off what is happening before me.

“Miss, can you come with me?” the officer asks me.

The doctor turns around from the stretcher and makes eye contact with me. He has the same look I’ve seen so many times before. Compassion mixed with sorrow. He calls the nurse sitting beside me over to him. She rushes to him, and they quickly close the backroom doors.

I look up at the officer in front of me and see the same look of sad concern in his eyes. I can’t stand that look; I see it far too often. If I don’t follow him, then nothing is happening, right?

“Miss, can you hear me?” he asks me while placing his hand on my shoulder, which I think is his attempt to be reassuring.

“Yes, sorry, what did you say?” I look up at him, only to be greeted with that look of pity I cannot stand.

“Let’s go into the family room to talk more privately,” he tells me. “We’d like to explain what happened to your husband.”

“Okay, can I call someone to check on our children first? They’re at home with the babysitter.” They must be worried since Adrien is usually home by now. “My mother-in-law lives close by.”

“We already have an officer on her way to pick up your children,” he tells me. “Do you want water or something?”

“No, thank you. I don’t think I could stomach that right now.” Just the thought of water makes me feel nauseous. “So what happened, Officer?” His name escapes me. I have no idea if he even introduced himself.

“We received a call from someone who was driving by. They saw a truck upside down in the ditch.” The officer takes a deep breath before continuing. “When we arrived, we located the truck about fifty feet off the road in the trees.” He looks at me like he wishes he could stop there.

But he reluctantly continues. “When we finally got down to the vehicle, the cab was empty. After searching the nearby area, we found your husband not far from the wreck.” He pauses.

“We believe that he hit black ice and lost control. It seems that he didn’t have his seat belt on at the time of the crash.

” His face goes white, and he clears his throat.

“Maybe the doctor should tell you the rest.”

“No,” I yell in a panic. “Please don’t make me wait!

” I beg. Not knowing what is happening is tearing me apart inside.

I just want to push this man out of my way and go see what is happening for myself.

He always did complain that the seat belts were too uncomfortable.

I don’t know how many times I told him to just wear it anyway.

He sees the turmoil in my eyes and takes pity on me. “Okay, well, when my partner rolled him over, I saw something sticking from his chest.” He shakes his head. “I wasn’t sure what to do, but the ambulance arrived shortly after I did. So, I let the paramedics take over and stepped out of the way.”

A knock at the door startles me from my thoughts. I turn and see the doctor come into the room. I can’t read his face to know if this will be good news or my worst nightmare.

“Mrs. Moreau, I am sorry to inform you, but…” NO! NO! This is not happening! “Your husband didn’t make it. His injuries were too severe.”

This is one of my worst nightmares coming to life. I have to be dreaming. My hands suddenly feel cold, like I’m standing outside in the snow storm. My chest tightens as reality hits, and I struggle to breathe. A high pitch squeal every time I try to breathe in and tears streaming down my face.

“Can I see him?” It comes out as more of a weak squeak. “I want to be able to say goodbye before the kids get here.” I don’t want them to see him covered in blood either. I can do this alone.

“Yes, the nurses are just cleaning him up,” he tells me as he is already backing up towards the door.

My mind throws a million questions at me at once.

How am I going to tell the twins their father is gone?

I need to call his mother and my parents.

Who is going to watch the kids here while I take care of everything?

A million thoughts are going through my mind.

They are interrupted when I hear the officer clear his throat.

He’s one of the cops that I see regularly around here, and he clearly recognizes me.

“I wish I could have done more. If you have more questions, call the station, and someone will assist you,” he says quickly as he is still looking to escape the room.

“Thanks,” I snap. I know it’s not his fault, but I just can’t bring myself to care. “That won’t bring him back, though.”

I turn away so he can leave and I can have a moment alone to gather myself. Did anyone call in a replacement for me? Am I going to be able to work and plan a funeral? Shouldn’t I feel more right now?

Guilt starts to seep in. I need to get out of my thoughts and do something.

Walking rotely through the doors, I feel like someone else is controlling my body.

My feet are moving, but I have no idea how.

I stop outside the curtain that Adrien is behind, take a deep breath, and slide it out of the way.

I can feel my walls starting to break down. My heart is tearing itself apart. I need to get my shit together. Focusing on the sound of my heart beating, I step closer to the stretcher.

My husband of twelve years...lying motionless. Lifeless. As if he was never here to begin with. Am I numb? Is this what shock feels like? What would be his normal pale shirt is ripped and now covered in crimson. You can do this. You are strong; you can break down later when you are alone.