Chapter 3: What the Nurse Said
Tina didn't move.
The phone was still pressed against her ear, but her arm had dropped slightly, like it had gone heavy.
"Tina." I touched her shoulder.
"What did they say?"
She lowered the phone.
Her eyes weren't focused on anything.
"He's in surgery."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"Okay.
That means he's alive.
Which hospital?"
She blinked.
Looked at the screen.
"St.
Catherine's.
Twenty minutes from here."
I was already moving toward the car.
"Come on."
She didn't move right away.
She was still holding the shoe against her chest with one arm, the phone loose in her other hand.
"What if he doesn't—"
"Don't." I turned back and took her hand.
"He pushed you out of the way on his wedding day.
He's not done yet.
Come on."
She let me pull her up.
The drive was quiet except for the rain on the windshield and Tina's uneven breathing in the passenger seat.
She had the shoe in her lap.
Her fingers kept moving over the leather like she was trying to smooth something out that wasn't there.
I didn't say anything.
There was nothing useful to say.
We found the surgical waiting room on the third floor.
A nurse at the desk looked up when we came in — and her eyes went straight to Tina's dress.
"We're here for Daniel Marsh," I said.
"He was brought in about an hour ago.
She's his wife."
The nurse's expression shifted.
Not unkind, but careful.
"Let me get someone to speak with you."
She disappeared through a set of double doors.
Tina sat down in one of the plastic chairs along the wall.
I sat beside her.
"Eight months," she said quietly.
"What?"
"We only knew each other eight months.
His family doesn't know me.
I don't even know if he has family." She looked at the shoe.
"I don't know his mother's name."
"You'll learn it."
"What if I never get the chance?"
I didn't answer that.
A doctor came through the doors before I had to.
He was young, still in scrubs, with the particular stillness of someone trained to deliver news without flinching.
"Mrs.
Marsh?"
Tina stood up so fast the shoe nearly fell.
"Yes.
That's me.
Is he—"
"He's out of surgery." The doctor paused.
"He's stable.
The impact caused a serious fracture to his left leg and some internal bruising, but there was no damage to his spine or his head.
He was very fortunate."
Tina made a sound I had never heard from her before.
Not quite a sob.
Something smaller and more broken than that.
"Can I see him?"
"He's in recovery.
He won't be fully conscious for another hour or two.
But yes — once he's moved to a room, you can see him."
She nodded.
Sat back down.
Pressed the shoe against her face.
I put my arm around her and she leaned into me and we just sat there in the fluorescent light while the rain kept going outside.
It was another forty minutes before a different nurse came to take us back.
Daniel's room was small and dim.
He was lying with his eyes closed, one leg elevated, a monitor beeping softly beside him.
He looked pale.
Younger than I'd expected, somehow.
Dark hair.
A face that even in sleep looked like it belonged to someone patient.
Tina walked straight to the side of the bed.
She set the shoe down carefully on the blanket near his feet.
Then she took his hand in both of hers and sat down without a word.
I stayed in the doorway.
After a moment, Daniel's fingers moved.
Just slightly.
Closing around hers.
He didn't open his eyes.
But the corner of his mouth shifted — barely, almost nothing.
Tina made that sound again.
And this time I recognized it.
Relief.
Pure and total.
I stepped back into the hallway to give them the room.
I was standing there, eyes stinging in a way I wasn't going to acknowledge, when my phone buzzed.
Mom.
I answered.
"Where are you?" she said.
"I've been calling Tina for hours."
"I'm at St.
Catherine's Hospital," I said.
"Mom, there's a lot I need to tell you."
A pause.
"Is she hurt?"
"No.
She's fine." I glanced back through the small window in the door.
Tina was still holding Daniel's hand, her head bowed.
"But she got married today."
May you like
The silence on the other end lasted a long time.
Then my mother said, very quietly: "To who?"
