Page 50 of Ripple Effect

“The police are going to want to speak with you when you’re a little more lucid.”

“Wanted dinner,” I mumble, still reeling over the fact Cal’s not at my side. I have no concept of time, but shouldn’t he be here?

“I imagine you’re quite hungry. We can’t allow you solid foods just yet. Maybe not for a few more days,” Dr. Devin informs me.

I inhale sharply, which was an error in judgment. I groan in pain. “Why not?” But Dr. Devin can’t answer what I really want to know.

Where is my husband?

“You’re in the intensive care unit.”

That still doesn’t answer my questions. Helplessly, I reach for my father’s hand, but I can’t quite manage it. He reaches down and takes it. I try not to resent the fact it should be Cal’s, but bitterness is beginning to seep into my veins.

Dr. Devin continues. “You’ve been unconscious for almost twenty hours. We took scans to make sure there wasn’t a hematoma. We’ve been constantly monitoring the amount of brain swelling to ensure it was dissipating so we didn’t need to help facilitate it further.”

“What does that mean?”

“By draining it, Libby,” Mom says as she squeezes my foot. “They were concerned there was too much pressure on your brain. It’s one of the options they discussed with your father and I. Dr. Devin was concerned her team might need to drain the fluid around your brain, but you turned a corner, honey.”

“Your responses to stimuli improved remarkably around hour eight. We decided after the second set of scans to let nature work its course.” Dr. Devin picks up my left hand. “Your husband is out of the country?”

I nod, wincing. Then beseechingly, “Cal?” It’s a question for my parents.

“We’re trying to reach him, sweetheart. I’m sure it’s just the time change,” Mom assures me.

“I’m betting he’s already on the plane on the way home. At least he better be.” Dad mutters the last to himself.

“When you speak with him, there’s nothing for him to be worried about long term. However, I’m very concerned about Mrs. Sullivan’s short-term situation. I will not release her to her own care.”

I swallow hard. “I can’t go home?” I want the comfort of Cal surrounding me even if he isn’t there—his scent, our home, our bed. Despite how much knowing that stings.

Dr. Devin squeezes my hand again. “Mrs. Sullivan…”

“Elizabeth, please.”

“Elizabeth, if you continue to improve, we hope that you’ll be moved from the ICU by tomorrow, down to a regular room to be monitored for one day before discharge. It’s my professional recommendation you’re not to be left alone for the next seven days.”

“Work…”

“You are prohibited from any sort of computer work for the next month, Elizabeth.” At the words of protest forming on my lips, Dr. Devin’s smile firms. “That’s nonnegotiable.”

My mother jumps in. “I can help.”

“If I want my employees to get paid, no you won’t.” Then hoping my words didn’t hurt her, I murmur, “I’ll need you in other ways, Mom. Maybe Josh can help me with payroll?”

“Anything, Libby. We just need to get you well.”

The pain ricocheting in my chest hurts as much as that in my head. “And my husband can’t be reached?”

“No, honey. But we’re trying.” Mom’s voice is strained.

“Then it might be best for me to go home with you,” I manage to get out.

Dr. Devin squeezes my hand. “That sounds like a sound decision. Why don’t you rest, Elizabeth; it’s the best thing for you now.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?” But I can’t deny the pull of my eyelids drooping.

“The more you rest, the quicker you’ll heal,” I’m reminded.