Not Quite Enough (Not Quite #3)(46)
Author: Catherine Bybee

Trent pushed his brows together. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not. And usually toxicity takes time to occur unless you bite into a thermometer or eat paint. Both of you show signs of liver and kidney involvement.”

Trent hadn’t thought of his liver since he was in college testing his beer limit consumption. “Anything serious?”

“We’ll want to keep you in the hospital to run some tests.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” And he wasn’t thinking of himself so much as the woman in the ICU.

“Serious enough to keep you here.”

He guessed he didn’t need to understand it any more than that. It sounded like there were unknowns at this point. “The water was bad, wasn’t it?”

“That’s my guess. The water you sent with Monica is at an outside lab and we won’t get the preliminary results until the morning.”

Walt stood and took Trent’s hand in his. “I’m going to check on Monica again, and then find a cot and some food. I’ll find where they put you in the hospital and keep you up to date.”

“So I can’t see her yet?”

“Let’s get you fixed up, fed. I’ll bet you’re starving.”

Trent tried to smile. “I could eat.”

“I’ll tell the nurses.”

“OK. And thanks, Walt.”

Muddy water threatened to pull her under again, but instead of allowing the thick desire for sleep to keep its death grip any longer, Monica forced her eyes to flutter open.

Bright, shiny light had her blinking several times, as the familiar smells and sounds of a hospital crept into her consciousness.

“Barefoot?” Her pasty lips tried to stick together as she spoke.

“Mo?”

Monica turned her stiff neck to the right to find Jessie on the other side of a guardrail of the hospital bed she lay in. “Jessie?”

Jessie lifted Monica’s hand to her lips, kissed the back of it. “Oh, God. You’re awake.”

Her sister had dark circles under her eyes, her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she huddled under a sweatshirt that looked like it belonged to Jack.

Monica squeezed her sister’s hand, surprised at the effort it took to close her hand. “Where am I?” She remembered snippets. Trent’s voice telling her they were going to be found. Him laughing at her attempt to sing the theme song to Gilligan’s Island. Then there was an airplane and faces… some named, many nameless. Then a whole lot of nothing.

“Miami General.”

“H-how long?”

“Only a day.” Her sister’s voice held a plea. “I was so worried.”

“Ha! You and me both.” Monica did a slow look around the room. The private room held every bell and whistle needed for a critical bed. A large glass door separated her from a center nurses’ station with the rush of nurses, technicians, and doctors milling about. She rested her hand on the bed and noticed the IV connected to her wrist. She followed the tubing and noticed several plastic bags hanging from above her bed. She narrowed her eyes and read the labels. “Pressers?”

“What?” Jessie asked as she moved to the other side of the bed and turned on a light above the bed.

“Am I in the ICU?”

“Yeah. I’m going to tell the nurse you’re awake. They wanted to know when you came around.”

Monica released a breath and tried to stop being the nurse. “Jessie?” she stopped her sister before she left the room.

“Yeah, Mo?”

“I love you.”

Tears welled instantly in Jessie’s eyes. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“I’ll try.”

Then Jessie left the room and returned a few seconds later with a nurse. With help from a complete stranger, Monica sat up in her bed and waited for the treating physician to make his way to her bedside. By the time the poor man left she’d drilled him on every medication he’d given her, asked for details about her lab work, made suggestions for tests. Yeah, the guy had steam coming out his ears by the time he left the room, but there was something else in the man’s face. Admiration.

Jessie returned to the room and trailing behind her were Jack, and Renee, her mother.

“Hey, Mom.”

Their relationship had always been strained, but it didn’t mean her mother didn’t love her. They simply didn’t understand each other very well.

“Oh, baby.”

Monica accepted her mother’s kiss and offered a smile. “Sorry to drag you all the way across the country.”

“Damn inconvenient,” Jessie teased. “Be sure and think about that the next time you’re trapped in a cave and try to die.”

“No one is dying.”

“Could have fooled us,” Jack said. “Katie sends her love. She’ll be here tomorrow.”

Monica shook her head. “That’s not necessary.”

“Would you stay away?” Jessie asked.

Why did Jessie have to be so perceptive? Monica tried to roll her eyes and feign indifference. Instead, her eyes closed and she had a hard time opening them back up.

“I think maybe we should let you get some sleep,” her mother said.

She was wiped out after only being awake for an hour. It still felt wrong to push her family out the door after she’d scared them half to death. “They want to take me to surgery tomorrow,” she told them.

“Walt said something about that,” Jessie said.

“Walt’s here?” Monica opened her eyes again.

“He flew with us. You don’t remember?”

Monica shook her head. “I don’t remember much,” she uttered with a yawn. She remembered Trent kissing her forehead. “Trent. Where’s Trent?”

“Who’s Trent?” her mother asked.

“The man with her in the cave. He’s downstairs,” Jack told her. “They’re keeping him for a couple of days.”

“Is he OK?”

“Yeah.”

Good. That’s good.

Damn she was tired.

The next time she opened her eyes the room was empty and dark.

Chapter Nineteen

Trent pulled on a second undignified gown so his butt wasn’t out there for everyone to see, and rolled the pole holding his IV as he trekked up the hall from his room. Jack had visited him earlier in the day to tell him that Monica had woken and that if Trent was going to sneak up to see her he might want to do it tonight as she was scheduled for surgery in the morning and would be out of it for hours after.