“Oh, sweetheart. We both love him, don’t we?” Rebecca threw her arms around Shannon, who pushed her off.
“Get your hands off me. Jared—” She looked around to see if he could help. “Get the police. I want her out of here.”
The young Emergency Room doctor was confused. “Just a minute, ladies. I need permission for a procedure. I need the legal spouse of Mr. Marco Gambini.”
“Well, it’s not her,” Shannon blurted out. “Jared, get her out of here. Throw her out if you have to.”
Jared was quick to act but a hospital guard, part of the police force, came between them. “Hey, wait a minute, bud. We don’t want to cause a scene, and we’re delaying the emergency treatment for Mr.—what’s his name?”
“Gambini,” all four of the arguing parties shouted back.
“Doctor, I’m his fiancé,” said Shannon. “We’re getting married in the spring. I can prove it, just not here. But I have this,” she held up her left hand and demonstrated her huge diamond. Rebecca rolled her eyes.
“She’s a little gold digger after my husband’s money.”
“Ex-husband. You dumped him, remember?”
“Stop it!” the guard called out. “You’re divorced, ma’am?”
Rebecca took her time in answering but finally did. “Yes.”
“You have any power over his health care?”
“I still have a piece of paper he signed.”
“When you were legally married.”
“Of course. And I didn’t write it. He did.”
“You can go, ma’am. Doctor, please proceed.” The guard took Rebecca by the elbow and began nearly dragging her out the emergency entrance.
“I’m sorry about all this,” said Shannon.
“Now, who’s he? If you tell me he’s your ex-husband, I’m not going to talk to you either,” the doctor said. He was lashing down his patience, but it was about to come unraveled.
“He’s my boss and a dear friend.”
“Okay, here’s the story. We must go in and remove a large piece of metal—we think it was from part of the construction—metal studs or something. It very nearly severed his femoral artery, and if that had happened, well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Shannon’s tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. She felt black circles encroach around both eyes, obscuring more and more of her sight as the seconds ticked by.
“I have to sit down.”
“Please.” The doctor sat beside her. “He might lose his leg. We may have to take the leg to save his life. He’s lost an awful lot of blood. He has a very weakened pulse, and for the time being, he’s unconscious, which is the body’s way of trying to heal itself. But the damage to that leg is significant. If we cannot get the blood flow back, the leg will atrophy. He has a shattered thigh bone, his knee’s screwed up because all his weight came down on his twisted leg from the blast. He was apparently very near where the bomb was planted.”
“A bomb? You said a bomb?”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s what I’m told, and from the extent of his injuries and the burn marks, well, it’s consistent with war injuries I treated in Afghanistan. But I need permission to take the leg. If he doesn’t wake up, I may not be able to ask him. I will save his life, one way or the other. But his chances are greatly improved if I don’t have to worry about the leg.”
“Do what you have to do to save him!” Jared inserted.
The doctor looked at him with full-throttled distain.
“Miss? I need your permission.”
Shannon thought about it. She knew what he would choose for her if the roles were reversed. He’d tell them to save her life and take the leg. But that decision may not be the right one for Marco. As a fighter, he’d want to try. He’d want to be on his feet for the next battle. He was strong and healthy with an enormous will to live, especially if it meant there was some form of retribution coming against the perpetrator of this crime. He certainly wouldn’t want to do it from a wheelchair, even though Shannon would love him either way. If he was a complete vegetable, she’d love him.
But she was certain he would not make the same choice for himself he’d make for her. He’d want to first fight to see if his leg could be saved. It didn’t matter if he had a limp or if the process was painful or required multiple surgeries. He’d want to remain with both legs, even if one was held together with baling wire and metal rods. He’d find some way to use it as a weapon. He wouldn’t even think twice about it.
But there was one problem with that possible solution. If that decision meant that he lost his life, then he’d lose the ability to protect Shannon, and she knew that was his primary goal. And he’d never agree to that.
She inhaled, leaned back, and pressed her spine into the wall, asking for Em’s help again. “I can’t give you a straight answer.” She opened her eyes and investigated the doctor’s. “If it costs him his life, then no, take the leg. If that’s the only way to save him. If you can save him and not take the leg, even if it’s high risk, do not take the leg. I know this man. I know what he’ll do to recover. I know the discipline that is such a part of him that will not let him quit. He’d want to make this decision himself, and I’ll get flack for making it for him if it comes to that. But if he has a chance to live without taking the leg, then that’s the choice I make for him.”
The doctor nodded. “You’re a very courageous woman. He’s going to need that.”
“I’m fully on board. Do your best, doctor. This man is still an elite warrior. He is one of those guys who do it all. They are the ones who keep us all safe. You must get him back up on his feet to continue his fight, because he’s not done being a warrior. He doesn’t want to die off somewhere forgotten, gracefully pass into Heaven. He’s going to fight with everything he has left. Don’t take away any of his tools. He’ll need them. We all need them.”
“Very well. Consider it done. I understand the type, ma’am. I saw the tats. Those guys are special, and I haven’t lost one yet.” He patted her leg and smiled. “I hope you know what a lucky woman you are.”
“With every ounce of my being, doctor.”
She waited ten hours, sleeping in the waiting room. Finally, they made up a bed for her, and Jared finally went home. Since Marco wasn’t in ICU, they allowed her to sleep in his room after his five-hour surgery. The doctor told her there would be many more. He told her Marco should never attempt to jump out of a plane again. They both had a laugh over that one.
But the good news, delivered on a beautiful pink and orange sunlit morning in Tampa, overlooking the blue water and all the little white boats zooming back and forth, the glistening city in the background standing proud, was that he was going to be okay.
“He must have some angel looking after him. For the life of me, I don’t understand why that piece of metal didn’t completely sever the artery. It was like someone was holding it until we could get in there and see it was going to tear away any second. We got it in time. His blood flow is good already. And he will heal. He won’t like the way the leg feels at first. But he’ll adapt.”