Treasured by Thursday
Page 81
Solomon tucked her into his side as the ground rushed to meet them. Her left arm took the brunt of her fall and pain shot through her.
She couldn’t hear, but the flames coming from behind told her why.
Gabi shielded her eyes when the second explosion went off.
Solomon forced his face in front of hers, his lips were moving but all she heard was ringing.
The Aston blazed in flames.
Solomon placed a hand on her chin. His mouth moved in what she thought was a question. Are you OK?
She nodded even as she began to shake. I can’t hear. She felt vibration in her throat but couldn’t hear her own words.
Solomon pointed to his own ears and shook his head. He lifted his hand that still held his cell phone and said something into it before dropping it to his side.
One of the back tires blew and Gabi’s entire body shook.
Her life could have ended today.
Solomon reached around her and held on.
She let him.
The closed driving course belonged to the police department, making them first on the scene. Gabi knew her hearing loss wasn’t permanent when she heard the high pitch of the fire department sirens.
Dazed, she watched a dozen officials running around the otherwise empty lot. The orange cones close to the Aston melted in a surreal slow death. Someone lifted her arm and encased it in a bandage. She looked down, noticed blood for the first time. Adrenaline must have taken over, because she hadn’t felt a thing after her first kiss with the ground.
Shock, she realized on a level outside her consciousness.
People around her were speaking, but she couldn’t hear any of the softer sounds.
It wasn’t until a paramedic attempted to get her to stand that the adrenaline left her system.
Pain shot in her arm, her knee, and her head was on fire.
The medics lifted her onto the gurney and laid her down.
Solomon shook off the men at his side and stayed close. Watching life, and feeling the pain begin a series of explosions inside her without all the sound that came with it, offered a twist in her conscious.
Movement to her left had her twisting her head.
Hunter . . . his crisp suit slightly ruffled . . . why she thought of the condition of his clothing wouldn’t occur to her for hours, but his clothes stuck out. The frantic man under them, however, wasn’t something she recognized.
He pushed through the police at the scene, pointed her way, and rushed to her side.
Sound was muffled, a mix of sirens and low-pitched bass that made it impossible to hear single words.
Hunter was talking to her, but she couldn’t take in a single word.
He gripped her hand and turned his attention to the paramedic.
Hunter nodded a few times, then looked at her.
That’s when she saw it.
Emotion . . . raw, unscripted.
Unshed tears sat behind his eyes, desperation filled his face.
He climbed into the ambulance with her, spoke to someone behind him. When the door closed and what she could hear was nothing but the screech of a noisy emergency vehicle, she closed her eyes.
Hunter squeezed her hand.
She squeezed back.
Apparently patience was something Hunter was going to learn in the course of a week. He arrived in time to sit beside Gabi on the way to the hospital, but he couldn’t talk to her. The second she was unloaded from the back of the ambulance, the emergency room staff whisked her away.
Someone dragged him away to ask questions . . . most of which he couldn’t answer. Allergies to medications, previous medical conditions?
He didn’t know his wife at all.
It wasn’t long before Neil and Gwen arrived. Shortly after, Samantha ran in. When Judy arrived, she was on the phone with Gabi’s family.
Neil explained what he knew but didn’t elaborate.
When one of the nurses called Hunter’s name, he jumped. So did everyone else in their party.
She ushered them into a small room, where the women took a seat and the men stood. “You’re wife is resting comfortably, Mr. Blackwell. The doctor medicated her and splinted her arm.”
“Splinted her arm?” Samantha asked.
“A fracture. Nothing that won’t heal in six weeks.”
Hunter wasn’t worried about her arm. “Can she hear anything yet?”
The nurse didn’t commit. “Like the medics told you . . . the blast will affect her hearing for a few hours. She responds to loud sounds, but words might take a day to come back. Most of the time this is temporary. The man she was with—”
“Solomon?” Neil asked.
“Yes, his hearing is already returning.”
Thank God. At least they could talk to him and learn something about what had happened. Not that Hunter needed that.
“When can I see her?” Hunter asked.
“I can take you back now. Two at a time. We’re really busy and can’t have the halls filled with people.”
Hunter stood and Judy took the space beside him. “If I don’t give Meg an update, she’ll go crazy.”
The nurse led the two of them through the busy halls of the ER and into a private room where Gabi lay.
Her eyes were closed, her arm hung in a sling. The monitors hooked to her buzzed with bleeps and dings. None of it made any sense. All that mattered was that the woman on the gurney was breathing
She opened her slightly glossy eyes and tried to smile.
“Oh, Gabi,” Judy moved to the gurney first, placed her hand next to Gabi’s. “Can you hear me?”
Gabi focused for a minute, then muttered, “Can’t hear you.” She lifted a white board someone in the ER had given her and pointed to it.
Judy lifted it, scribbled the question How do you feel? and then turned it toward Gabi.
She couldn’t hear, but the flames coming from behind told her why.
Gabi shielded her eyes when the second explosion went off.
Solomon forced his face in front of hers, his lips were moving but all she heard was ringing.
The Aston blazed in flames.
Solomon placed a hand on her chin. His mouth moved in what she thought was a question. Are you OK?
She nodded even as she began to shake. I can’t hear. She felt vibration in her throat but couldn’t hear her own words.
Solomon pointed to his own ears and shook his head. He lifted his hand that still held his cell phone and said something into it before dropping it to his side.
One of the back tires blew and Gabi’s entire body shook.
Her life could have ended today.
Solomon reached around her and held on.
She let him.
The closed driving course belonged to the police department, making them first on the scene. Gabi knew her hearing loss wasn’t permanent when she heard the high pitch of the fire department sirens.
Dazed, she watched a dozen officials running around the otherwise empty lot. The orange cones close to the Aston melted in a surreal slow death. Someone lifted her arm and encased it in a bandage. She looked down, noticed blood for the first time. Adrenaline must have taken over, because she hadn’t felt a thing after her first kiss with the ground.
Shock, she realized on a level outside her consciousness.
People around her were speaking, but she couldn’t hear any of the softer sounds.
It wasn’t until a paramedic attempted to get her to stand that the adrenaline left her system.
Pain shot in her arm, her knee, and her head was on fire.
The medics lifted her onto the gurney and laid her down.
Solomon shook off the men at his side and stayed close. Watching life, and feeling the pain begin a series of explosions inside her without all the sound that came with it, offered a twist in her conscious.
Movement to her left had her twisting her head.
Hunter . . . his crisp suit slightly ruffled . . . why she thought of the condition of his clothing wouldn’t occur to her for hours, but his clothes stuck out. The frantic man under them, however, wasn’t something she recognized.
He pushed through the police at the scene, pointed her way, and rushed to her side.
Sound was muffled, a mix of sirens and low-pitched bass that made it impossible to hear single words.
Hunter was talking to her, but she couldn’t take in a single word.
He gripped her hand and turned his attention to the paramedic.
Hunter nodded a few times, then looked at her.
That’s when she saw it.
Emotion . . . raw, unscripted.
Unshed tears sat behind his eyes, desperation filled his face.
He climbed into the ambulance with her, spoke to someone behind him. When the door closed and what she could hear was nothing but the screech of a noisy emergency vehicle, she closed her eyes.
Hunter squeezed her hand.
She squeezed back.
Apparently patience was something Hunter was going to learn in the course of a week. He arrived in time to sit beside Gabi on the way to the hospital, but he couldn’t talk to her. The second she was unloaded from the back of the ambulance, the emergency room staff whisked her away.
Someone dragged him away to ask questions . . . most of which he couldn’t answer. Allergies to medications, previous medical conditions?
He didn’t know his wife at all.
It wasn’t long before Neil and Gwen arrived. Shortly after, Samantha ran in. When Judy arrived, she was on the phone with Gabi’s family.
Neil explained what he knew but didn’t elaborate.
When one of the nurses called Hunter’s name, he jumped. So did everyone else in their party.
She ushered them into a small room, where the women took a seat and the men stood. “You’re wife is resting comfortably, Mr. Blackwell. The doctor medicated her and splinted her arm.”
“Splinted her arm?” Samantha asked.
“A fracture. Nothing that won’t heal in six weeks.”
Hunter wasn’t worried about her arm. “Can she hear anything yet?”
The nurse didn’t commit. “Like the medics told you . . . the blast will affect her hearing for a few hours. She responds to loud sounds, but words might take a day to come back. Most of the time this is temporary. The man she was with—”
“Solomon?” Neil asked.
“Yes, his hearing is already returning.”
Thank God. At least they could talk to him and learn something about what had happened. Not that Hunter needed that.
“When can I see her?” Hunter asked.
“I can take you back now. Two at a time. We’re really busy and can’t have the halls filled with people.”
Hunter stood and Judy took the space beside him. “If I don’t give Meg an update, she’ll go crazy.”
The nurse led the two of them through the busy halls of the ER and into a private room where Gabi lay.
Her eyes were closed, her arm hung in a sling. The monitors hooked to her buzzed with bleeps and dings. None of it made any sense. All that mattered was that the woman on the gurney was breathing
She opened her slightly glossy eyes and tried to smile.
“Oh, Gabi,” Judy moved to the gurney first, placed her hand next to Gabi’s. “Can you hear me?”
Gabi focused for a minute, then muttered, “Can’t hear you.” She lifted a white board someone in the ER had given her and pointed to it.
Judy lifted it, scribbled the question How do you feel? and then turned it toward Gabi.
