Page 109 of Ripple Effect

“Libby. Please call me Libby,” I plead.

She nods. “Libby. I can’t guarantee you won’t feel both physical and emotional pain,” she warns me.

My breathing accelerates. “What’s what I lived through but that?”

Her eyes close in acknowledgment. “By now your family has been made aware you’ve been rescued. Do you want to contact them first?”

“Only my brother knew I was pregnant. I…I need this moment between me and my child before I call them.”

Her hand lies gently on my shoulder. For just a moment, we’re not victim to doctor. We’re woman to woman, and she’s trying to absorb some of my pain. Oh, how I wish I could let her bear some of it.

“Relax. As soon as I feel comfortable you’re hydrated a bit more, we’ll begin.” Her head snaps to one of the other women in the small room. “No visitors. Not now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The woman steps out.

“Just relax, Libby. Someone will be in here with you at all times.” She starts to leave before I call out hoarsely.

“Wait!”

Dr. Fields turns around.

“Linc? The others?” my scratchy voice manages.

And her lips curve into a smile. “Rest, Libby. Everyone who was still alive, including Mr. McCallister, was safely rescued from theSea Force. What you did…” She shakes her head. “Let’s just say it gave the SEAL team the distraction they needed to do their job.”

I let out an enormous sigh. And while I only understand about 10 percent of what she said, I heard the most important thing. Linc’s alive.

Now, all I want is to be left alone to be free to let all my emotions loose.

* * *

Hours later,after the D&C is finished, there’s an uproar outside the medical suite.

Everyone’s heads turn.

Not mine.

Because my eyes are wide at the roaring of “I don’t give a shit if you throw me in the brig. Let me in to see my fucking wife, God damnit!”

It can’t be.

I begin to shake as the door flies open, and suddenly Cal’s filling the entrance. “Libs?” His voice breaks.

Until that moment, I wasn’t sure if I had any strength left in my body, not with a litany of physical injuries a mile long let alone the medical procedure I was recovering from. But the wounds to my heart start repairing themselves seeing the gold band on the third finger of his left hand gleaming starkly against the all-black ensemble he’s wearing. I stumble on weak, bruised legs to the arms of man I love.

“Ca…” I try to say his name, but I can only mouth it. My voice has disappeared.

He lowers his head on mine and whispers, “I’m right here. I love you. I swear it. I will always be yours.” The wetness of his tears mix with mine as they freely drip down his face. “Thank God you’re alive.” He buries his head against my neck, his shoulders shaking.

There’s still so much to understand: How is he here? What happened? But in comparison to what I endured, it can wait. I have time to figure it all out.

Cal once said I was his everything and more. As he lifts me in unsteady arms to carry me back to the sick bay bed, I can’t reconcile the man who said that with one who deserted our marriage.

And that’s when I really begin to sob. Because it’s safe to mourn not picking up a telephone when in your heart you really wanted to.

“Shh, Libby, I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

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