Love Is Not Enough

Part 10

The night came and went, and soon the morning sun was shining on the hospital grounds. Dr. Miller had checked on his patient and determined that, despite his occasional nightmares which occurred during the night, he was ready to be placed in a regular room. By mid-morning, Tom had been transferred to a room filled with warmth and bright sunlight. Flowers were already waiting for him, expressing wishes for a quick recovery.

On Doctor Miller's orders, his parents had taken care to remove all cards of sympathy which had been sent to the man. The television and phone, which were normally found in every room, had been removed. No newspapers were to be allowed. Visitors were restricted to only Liam, Margaret, Cassy and Harry. Until the doctor was certain that Tom was out of danger, he was to be completely cut off from the outside world, with no chance to accidentally discover what was being so carefully hidden from him.

Cassy had spent the entire night debating on whether she should visit her partner in the morning. There was no doubt that she wanted to be with him but she was still uncertain whether she was up to the task of lying to him. It was not until late that morning that she finally decided that she could handle the deception.

Gathering her courage, she proceeded to the hospital and was surprised to find that Tom was no longer in ICU, but instead was occupying the same room he had been recovering in only days before. The door was slightly ajar and she could hear soft voices from within. Tapping lightly on the door, she peeked her head through the crack.

Nurse Schmidt was just easing the recovering patient back against the pillows of the bed. Tom looked at the new arrival and a smile immediately crossed his face. "Hi there."

Nurse Schmidt turned to the door, "Good morning, Sergeant." She turned back to the man and held out a thermometer. Tom opened his mouth obediently and allowed it to be placed under his tongue.

"Hi," Cassy entered the room, suddenly feeling much better about having stopped by. "How's are patient doing?" Her eyes ran a quick inventory of her partner. He still looked pale and tired, but his eyes were alert.

Nurse Schmidt looked back at the man with a broad grin on her face, "Spectacularly. His heart rate has returned to normal and he's sitting up. We are going to try to get a little food down him this afternoon." She patted the man's leg as Tom's mouth turned to a slight grimace. "He says that he's not hungry, but the doctor has taken him off the IV and wants him to start easing back into a regular routine."

"Isn't that kind of soon?" Cassy couldn't help the concern in her voice.

"Not really. He had a very good night in ICU. The bullet wounds are healing nicely and he doesn't feel like he has a fever. We still want him to stay calm, but other than that, we have no other concerns."

Cassy was overwhelmed with relief. For the first time in several days, she felt like things were finally starting to go right. Then she remembered the terrible secret that would soon have to be told to the healing man. What would that do to his recovery?

Nurse Schmidt removed the thermometer and checked the temperature. "Great. No fever. You just might be on your way out of this place if you keep this up," she smiled.

"No offense, but I can't wait to leave this place." Tom winked.

"Yeah, that's what you said before. . ." she responded.

Tom closed his eyes, remembering bits and pieces of the incident with the gunman and feeling the pressure of the pain in his chest, "Teach me to go wandering around the hospital, huh?"

"Well, I, for one, am extremely grateful that you don't follow instructions. You saved my life. I don't think I can ever do enough to repay you for that."

Tom grinned at the nurse, "My pleasure. . .I'll tell you one thing you can do for me."

"Anything."

"Bring me a phone. Someone seems to have misplaced the one that was in here before."

The nurse's face became serious, "Unfortunately, that's the one thing I can't do, Sergeant. . .doctor's orders."

Cassy stepped forward, "Sorry Thomas, but the Doc doesn't want you disturbed. He's still worried about keeping your heart rate down."

Tom frowned at the women, "Great. Well how about getting the television back?"

"Same problem, Tom. Too much bad stuff going on out there. Don't want you getting worked up over it." Cassy tried to make the response light, but the guilt inside was building up.

"Oh come on. What am I supposed to do in here without some kind of diversion?"

"Get better," both women said in unison, and then looked at each other and laughed.

Tom was quiet and sulked down in the bed. He was beaten and he knew it, and frankly, he was too sore to argue. The nurse took one last look at her patient and exited the room with a quick wave to the two, leaving Cassy alone with Tom.

He looked at his partner, started to say something and then stopped. She approached the bed, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. . .I guess." He responded quietly.

"How do you really feel?" She placed her hand on his cheek. The thermometer had told the truth. His skin was cool to the touch.

"I'm tired. And I hurt." His uninjured left arm rose and rubbed lightly over the bandaged chest. His right arm was still bound close to his body, prohibiting movement.

"Well, take it easy. You've been through a lot in the past couple of weeks." She sat in the chair next to the bed. "Where are your parents?"

"I sent them to the cafeteria when the nurse showed up. They look tired. I feel bad for putting them through this. . .putting you all through this," a look of guilt was in his eyes.

"Don't. It wasn't your fault. . .well, okay, maybe if you had listened to the doctor you wouldn't be here now. . .but you can't help playing hero. . .we all know that." She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey Cass?" His voice was quiet.

"Yeah?"

"Why isn't Erin here?" Cassy couldn't stop the sudden intake of her breath upon hearing Tom's question. It was the one question she had prayed he wouldn't ask. . .the one she had pleaded that she wouldn't have to answer.

"She couldn't be here Tom." Cassy responded with the answer that had been agreed upon.

"That's what my parents said. But no one will tell me why she can't be here. She was with me before. Why isn't she here now."

Cassy didn't respond, her mind whirling with possible reasons, but none sounding legitimate. "Something came up. I know she wanted to be here. But she just can't."

It was obvious the answer was not good enough. Tom's voice edged on anger, "Stop it. . .stop lying to me. Why is everyone lying to me? She doesn't want to be here, does she?"

Cassy could feel the tremble in her own voice, "Oh Thomas. . ."

Suddenly, Tom became silent, staring straight ahead. "I'm tired. I just want to sleep." He reached out for the controls on the bed and hit the down button. Cassy watched him, hoping he would look at her, but he didn't. He only stared up at the ceiling.

"I'll stop by later," she said quietly and she left the room, holding back the tears. As soon as she was in the hallway the first tear rolled down her cheek. A hand grasped her shoulder and she turned, surprised. It was Liam.

"Did you see Tommy?" he asked the woman.

She nodded. "Oh God, Liam. He wanted to know where Erin was. I told him she couldn't be here. He knows something is wrong and now he's mad because no one will be straight with him."

Liam pulled her into a hug. "I know. He asked his Mom and me to find her and ask her to come. He thinks she's mad at him for getting shot. . .that she's left him."

Cassy pushed away. "The sad part is that she was ready to leave him when we last talked. She said that she loved him, but couldn't handle worrying about him."

Liam shook his head, "None of it matters anymore Cassy. Right now, we just need to make this as easy on him as possible. I talked to Dr. Miller and he said that he thinks we will be able to tell Tom tomorrow. Before we do, though, he wants to give him a mild sedative to help keep him calm."

Cassy nodded. "Okay. So we only have to keep this up for one more day, right?"

"Right. I know this is tough. . .but we can do this for Tommy."

Tom woke with a start. This was the third time that he could remember having the same dream. He and Erin were in bed. She was laying beside him with her back to him. He called her name, but she didn't answer. He rolled her over, and she was dead.

He pushed the up button on the automatic bed and allowed it to bring him to a sitting position. The clock on the wall showed 2:30. He had eaten lunch an hour and a half ago. His stomach was slightly nauseated, but he was certain that it was from the medication in his system.

He looked at the clock again. . .2:31. Erin would be on her break now, if he remembered right. This was her planning hour. He looked at the bedstand. . .still no phone.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the covers back and lowered the rail on the side of the bed. It wasn't easy to accomplish this with one arm in a sling, but motivation made the difference. He was suddenly grateful that Dr. Miller had given the order for the IV to be removed.

He remembered Erin being upset about the first time he was shot. She cried and told him how angry she had been at his carelessness. She had forgiven him, though. Then he went and screwed up again. She was probably furious with him now. He couldn't handle the thought of Erin being mad. He had to talk to her. If she wouldn't come to him, then he had to go to her. And since leaving the hospital wasn't realistic at the moment, a phone call would have to suffice.

The pain of the newest bullet wound cut through his chest, and he could feel the pull of the stitches which had been inserted just a few days before. He slowly swung his legs around to the floor and then stopped to catch his breath. This was going to be a long process, he decided, but he was committed to the cause.

He pushed himself to his feet and was suddenly overwhelmed with a bout of dizziness. Collapsing back onto the bed, he closed his eyes and waited for it to pass. The muscles in his legs shook with the strain of supporting his weight for the first time in days.

A second attempt to rise was more successful. He actually held his balance this time, with one hand resting on the bed. His body was stooped over, unable to straighten because of the pain and pull in his chest.

He shuffled his bare feet to the door. A second round of dizziness assaulted him and he leaned forward to let his hand rest against the door frame. His head dropped forward, thumping against the metallic door.

He looked back at the bed, debating on whether he was really up to accomplishing this mission, but then remembering the goal. Talking to Erin was his only priority now. Nothing else mattered. He ignored the beads of cold sweat which were now forming on his forehead.

His left hand dropped to the door handle and slowly pushed it down. He peeked around the corner, halfway expecting someone to shout at him about being out of bed. But, there was no activity.

He cracked open the door and took one step into the hallway. He debated on going left or right and decided upon left, to avoid the nurses' station.

As luck would have it, the next room was empty, the door standing open. He made his way into the room and pushed the door shut behind him. A third wave of dizziness swept over him and this time he thought his legs would give out. He kept his left hand on the door and fought to keep himself upright. His vision cleared and he eyed the phone on the stand next to the empty bed.

He shuffled to it and gently eased his body onto the mattress. His breathing was becoming more strained and the pain in his chest was almost overwhelming. It took every ounce of his will power to concentrate on his task. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the phone number of the school, but it escaped him. He dialed for directory assistance and asked for the call to be placed for him.

Within seconds, the phone was ringing. A pleasant voice sounded on the other end, "Coronado High School, may I help you."

He swallowed deeply, attempting to bring his breathing under control, "May I. . .speak to. . . Erin Wright, please."

There was silence on the other end.

"Hello?" he was afraid that he had been disconnected and would have to make the call again.

"Uh, I'm sorry, Sir, but Ms. Wright passed away two days ago."

Confusion clouded Tom's mind, his breathing and the strain obviously affecting his hearing. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you. Could you say that again."

"Sir, Ms. Wright passed away earlier this week. Can someone else help you."

Tom's breathing stopped suddenly, his vision darkening. "There must be some mistake. I want to speak to Erin Wright."

"Sir, I'm sorry, but there's no mistake. . .she died in a car accident." The voice on the other side of the line starting to sound suspicious, "May I ask who's calling?" The only response to the question was the sound of the phone dropping onto the floor.

End Part 10

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