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“My husband, Justin Wilde, was in a car accident?”
Denise nods and taps on the keyboard. “He’s headed in for surgery right now. Do you happen to know his insurance?”
A wife ought to know, right? My knees shake a little, partly with relief that he’s alive enough to attempt surgery and guilt at the lie I’m still building. I tell her the name of the insurance I had in college. Justin is too much of a stick in the mud to start changing things around, so he most likely still has the same. If not, we can sort it out later.
“Do you want to wait here? You don’t have to, you know?We can give you a call as soon as he’s out of surgery. It could be several hours.”
“I’ll wait. Is there someplace private I can make a call? We have family…” Another lie, but Fred is basically family and I think I’m going to need his help.
Denise nods with an understanding smile. “I’m afraid not in the hospital itself. But if you head back that way and turn down the mauve corridor, there’s a garden patio that should be pretty empty at this time of day.”
I smile my thanks as she answers her phone. Then I do retrace my steps but continue all the way back out to the parking lot. I can’t risk this conversation being overheard, so I’ll call Fred from my car.
I’ve never had a reason to call Fred before. Until his retirement, he was always within hailing distance if I felt the need to chat. Sadly. It wasn’t his idea to be unofficial protection detail for me. Nor mine. I hit dial next to his contact listing with a hesitant finger. And gulp when his growly voice answers with, “Who the hell is this?”
“Fred? It’s — it’s Ing.”
“Ingrid?” His voice softens immediately, but it’s still stern when he continues, “What’s wrong?”
I blink back tears because he’s listening,reallylistening. “It’s Justin. Someone tried to kill him. And Fred… he’s in surgery now, but I told them we were married. I didn’t know what else to do!” I can feel the anxiety bubbling in my chest.
Fred’s dry cackle of disbelief ends in the cough of a long-time smoker only recently reformed. Much to his disgust, I might add. Fred did not part willingly from his cigarettes.
“Well, that’s one way to skin a cat,” he mutters cryptically. “What the hell is Justin doing there in Montana with you, and what do you mean someone tried to kill him? If it wasn’t you, that is.”
I sputter half-heartedly. I know Fred is just trying to teaseme in his own gruff way. “I mean really kill, Fred.” I relay the details of the accident as I know them.
Fred is quiet for a long while. “Red hair, you say? This strange woman look anything like Margot?”
I think back and my stomach sinks. “Could be. I couldn’t really see her face. But it wasn’tnotMargot,” I say slowly. “But why would she want to kill him?”
“Why does a snake bite? Look, kid, I can be there in another day or two. Hang tight, okay? And stay in that hospital. I don’t want to have to pullyourbody out of a ditch when I get there.”
My stomach tenses all over again. “Do you think someone was really after me?” My voice quavers because if Justin died in my place, I could never live with it.
“Don’t know. But always look at the money, kid. And from what I understand, you have a lot of it. Who gets it if you die?”
“Um. I don’t really know. Justin always tried to make me read that stuff, but what’s the point? I don’t even get to spend it until I’m thirty-five or married to someone who is. My great-grandparents set up the trust a hundred years ago.”
Fred grunts in acknowledgment. “I’ll find out. Hang in there, kid. It’s going to take more than a car accident to kill Justin’s stubborn ass.” He hangs up as I snort a laugh of relief. Fred is right. Justin is a stubborn ass and maybe just this once, that’s a good thing. I think about calling Rose for moral support, but with the baby, I don’t want to add to her stress. If I hear anything specific from the doctors and need Aiden’s medical input, I’ll call her then. She’ll want to kill me for staying silent, but right now there’s nothing she can really do.
It’s an agony of waiting. First, four hours in the alcove that passes for a waiting room in emergency and then, when a nurse finally calls my name, more waiting in a new location. “Ms. Wilde? Your husband is out of surgery and being moved to the ICU. You can wait for him there in room 118.” She tells me what corridors to follow but disappears before I can ask more about Justin.
When I find it, the room is pleasant enough. A large window looks out over a low-maintenance garden, meaning it’s mostly grasses and a few green shrubs. The walls are a pleasant pale blue and there’s a small bathroom attached to the room. It seems like forever before the orderlies are wheeling in the bed with Justin’s still too-quiet body. The only change from the accident scene I can see is that now he has lots of tubes sticking out of him.
“Can you tell me how he is? What they had to fix?” I ask them.
“Sorry, ma’am. We’re just the grunts around here. His nurse should be in shortly and she can fill you in,” the taller of the two informs me with a kind smile.
I sink down into the one chair in the room and stare at my now pretend husband. I wouldn’t even complain if he sat up right now and yelled. Sadness fills me at the thought of never hearing him yell again. Even though that was exactly what I was devoutly wishing for, not very long ago. And here I am fake married to him, too! Another lifelong dream. Although I always wanted it to be real, of course. I stare at Justin’s still body. He’s too stubborn to die, I remind myself of Fred’s words. He has to be.
The nurse finally comes in. It feels like an hour later, but I’m sure it was only five minutes. She jots things down on the computer, checks his IV levels and only then notices me.
“Oh! I didn’t even see you there! You the missus?”
I nod, feeling renewed guilt at the lie. “Is he okay?”
Her smile is strained. Her eyes appear almost anxious when she says, “He’s stable. That in itself is progress, but I can’t give you odds or outcomes. The doctor will be by in the morningfor rounds and can tell you a lot more then. I’m sure you being here will help.”
