Married in Haste

Her teeth began to chatter. She backed up, shrieking No, no, no inside her head. Her mind refused to accept the news she was about to receive. “No!” she shouted, and snatched the front of the woman’s cheery uniform.

Frightened, the volunteer wrested the material from Abby’s clutching hands.

Because her already wobbly knees simply gave way, Abby fell heavily onto a padded bench. Nearly blinded by tears, she stared at a wooden cross rising stark and silent at the front of the room, backlit by a pale, shimmering light. Wanting—needing—to run, but unable to make her legs function, Abby shrank from an approaching man. His kind but controlled expression, coupled with a black jacket and white clerical collar, declared him an enemy. Abby heard an awful noise gush from her throat, a scream of denial ripped from her very soul. Shivering, she shut her eyes, covered her ears and rocked to ease the pain in her heart. It thundered so loudly, she missed the name the man offered along with his hand.

“Easy, Ms. Drummond.” Sitting beside her, he pried apart her icy hands. “Abigail Drummond?” he asked again, forcing Abby to open her eyes and really look at him through a veil of tears.

She nodded, even though words refused to form on her numb lips.

“According to Dr. Nelson, your brother, the Reverend Drummond, fought to hang on until you could get here. His chest injuries would have felled a lesser man at the scene of the accident. With God’s help, he managed to attract the attention of a firefighter sent to assess the rubble of the bridge. I understand Elliot’s only request was for the fireman to help his wife and son. Unfortunately—” the man paused, “Mrs. Drummond succumbed in the aid car as paramedics tried desperately to stabilize her breathing.”

Blair and Elliot, both gone. “No. Nooo!” Abby’s lungs refused to expand and contract as she attempted to haul in air. The priest plucked several tissues from a box and thrust them into her hand. A heaviness invaded her limbs and the glowing cross receded until it was a mere pinprick of light. Then it loomed large again as her burning throat swallowed her curse against an unmerciful God.

The priest clumsily patted her bent shoulders.

“Sam?” Abby whispered at last, twisting the tissues into wet clumps. “My brother’s son? How’s he? Dr. Galloway…uh…the senior Dr. Galloway was to evaluate Sam.”

“The boy is in surgery. Reverend Drummond gave verbal consent. That’s not how the hospital normally operates, but considering this tragedy, our chief of staff accepted your brother’s word. Ms. Drummond, did you come here alone? May I call someone for you? Your parents, perhaps? Or a sibling?”

“No one. They’re all gone. All but me.” She shook her head and tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m all that’s left of Elliot’s family. And Blair’s.” Burying her face in her hands, Abigail gave in to the weight of anguish pressing in on her. She sobbed, great gulping sobs, denying everything this man had said. “Someone’s made a horrible mistake. Elliot and Blair’s identification could’ve been mixed up at the bridge. I’m sure—”

“There’s no mistake.” The priest bowed his head and began to pray aloud. The words meant to comfort Abby landed on deaf ears.

Before he’d finished his prayer—in what later would seem a true miracle—Ben Galloway stood in the door of this out-of-the-way chapel. His recognizable voice penetrated the darkness that cocooned Abby. Half rising, she cried his name. “Ben. Ben?” Disbelief warred with her abject sorrow.

Ben wedged himself past the Episcopal priest. Murmuring softly, he reached for her.

“Ben! Oh, Ben.” She threw herself into his arms. “The bo…ys,” she cried. “How will I ever break this terrible news? I know what it’s like to lose both parents. They’re so much younger than Elliot and I were when our parents died.” Her voice became hysterical at the end. “How did you know to come here? Did Raina contact you?”

Tightening his hold, Ben rocked Abby from side to side. What he didn’t say—couldn’t bring himself to say—was that he’d have to impart the same unbelievable news to his nieces. Their mother was dead. Even though his own heart had shattered, Ben couldn’t tell her about Marlo, which would only add to Abby’s crushing grief.

But neither could he lie and say he’d come solely to comfort her. When the police had contacted Ben about finding Marlo’s car under a broken pillar at the viaduct, his chief of staff ordered him off duty. At first he’d planned to phone his father—which was how Kirk would handle notification were the shoe on the other foot. But when Ben attempted to call him, he learned that his dad had scrubbed for Sam Drummond’s surgery. He was also told about Sam’s folks. The decision to drive to Mercy General was Ben’s.

Devastated, he’d guessed correctly that Abby would be doubly so. As strong a woman as she was, Ben knew instinctively that it’d be like reopening old wounds, like reliving her parents’ accident. Feeling Abby shake in his arms, Ben didn’t regret his spur-of-the-moment decision to make the harrowing journey between the hospitals.

The priest’s pager went off. “Sorry, I’m needed elsewhere,” he murmured, lightly nudging Ben’s arm. “Sir, may I leave Ms. Drummond in your care?”

Ben’s answer was to tighten his arms around the still-crying woman.

“Uh, if I can be of any further assistance, please leave word at the front desk. They can usually find me. Today,” the priest said with a sigh, “it may take longer. Ms. Drummond, I hope you will one day take comfort in the fact your brother and his wife are reunited with their parents and their Creator.”

Unable to speak, Abby buried her face in Ben’s shirtfront.

“Thank you.” Ben shook the priest’s hand from an awkward angle. “I’m Dr. Ben Galloway, by the way. I practice mainly at Children’s Health. Abby and I both live in West Seattle. Mercy was the closest triage hospital to the accident.”

“I understand. Good luck to you both.” He shook his head. “As prepared as everyone thought we were after the big quake four years ago, this one caught us flatfooted. It’s more important than ever for us to get in step with God’s larger plan. He expects those of us left behind to carry on his work. Remember he’s a merciful God.” Giving Abby’s arm a last pat, the priest exited the chapel.

Abby stirred. She hated to leave the shelter of Ben’s arms. But the priest’s parting words rankled. “Elliot said almost that exact same thing to me at Mom and Dad’s funeral.”

She eased away from Ben, rubbing her upper arms. “His belief was a bone of contention between us for years. Now—” Abby faced Ben with wet eyes and trembling lips “—it’s as if Elliot’s sent a message back to me from…you know…” Shuddering, she eyed the cross, then glanced quickly away. “Perhaps Elliot’s right and I’m wrong.”

“Like hell, Abigail!” Uncaring that he was in a place of worship, Ben punched a fist into the air. “You, not God, will look Elliot’s kids in the eye tonight. It’s you who’ll wipe their tears, chase away their nightmares and stumble around trying to find a way to explain their incomprehensible loss. Whose merciful plan is that?”

In all the time she’d known him, Abby had never seen Ben get so worked up. She pulled her jacket tighter, and considered the bleak truth of his statement. As always when faced with hard facts, Abby dug deep for a resolve that had never failed her yet in times of need. “Then…if I’m all those poor kids have to hang on to, Ben, I’d better pull myself together. I—uh—thank you for providing a shoulder to cry on. But I’d better let you go. I’m sure you’re needed elsewhere, by other injured children.”

Ben saw determination replace the gut-wrenching pain in Abby’s tear-drenched eyes. Hopelessly in need of courage himself, he closed the gap between them and cupped her pale face. The freckles he loved were never more pronounced than now. He kissed the ones scattered across the bridge of her nose. Then he let his thumbs trace the blue shadows beneath her lower lashes. “I wish we had more time to spend together today. But…” He hauled in a deep, shuddering breath. “I need a word with Kirk…uh, my father, before I go back to my trauma unit. You’ll want to see him, too, about your nephew.”

Abby curled her fingers around Ben’s solid wrist. Something she’d found immensely attractive about Ben from the outset—his masculine hands. Some doctors had effeminate hands, she’d noticed. Not Ben Galloway. She could as easily see him paddling a kayak in an open sea, or tossing a log on a burning campfire. Yet his touch was gentle the few times she’d seen him cradle a baby or wipe away an older sibling’s tears.

“I’ll never be able to express how much it means to me that you were here when I most needed someone, Ben. In a way, you were an answer to my prayer.”

“Don’t.” He dropped his hands away from her face. “We can talk later. For now, it’s enough to know we’re both okay.”

“Right. I need to see how Sam is. I can’t believe I forgot to ask what kind of surgery he’s having. He’s so little. Oh, Ben! None of this seems real. I know it’ll all crash in on me when I least expect it. Right now, I feel as if I’m operating in a fog.”

He placed his hand on her back, and guided Abby out of the dim chapel. “I know where my father is operating. There’s a small waiting room in the wing. If you’ll take a seat, I’ll go see what I can find out for you.”

“Please.” Abby might have said more, but her throat tightened again.

As it turned out, Ben’s father had just stepped out of the surgery theater, a nurse informed Ben when he inquired. They spotted the elder Galloway, his surgical mask still dangling around his neck. He walked soundlessly toward them on blue booties. Impassive gray eyes surveyed his son. “What brings you to my neck of the woods? Aren’t you the one who insists they work your butt off in munch-kin land?”

“I know nothing’s quite as important or glamorous as what you do with bones,” Ben said edgily. “Rather than argue, let me introduce Abby Drummond. She’s the aunt of the boy you had in surgery.”

“Have in surgery. We’re at the halfway mark. My assistant is setting some of the minor bones.” The doctor’s demeanor changed abruptly as he paused to study Abby. Which was only fair, as she also assessed him. Any similarity between him and his son ended with the comparable height and breadth of their shoulders. What struck Abby about Kirk Galloway was that he seemed to be a man attempting to recapture his youth. His tan was far too dark, both his hair and mustache shouted salon blond.

“Ms. Drummond.” He clasped Abby’s hand between soft, perfectly groomed fingers. His professional charm clicked in automatically. “You’re lucky, my dear, that Benjamin phoned me. I assume he’s told you I handle only the most difficult cases. After surgery I’ll give you a rundown on the new technique I’m using on Sam. It’s one I developed while on tour in Vienna last year.”

Realizing he hadn’t released her hand, Abby jerked hers away. “You’re only half done with Sam?” Her stomach rolled. “I’ll…have to make a call. To arrange care for his brothers.”

Ben grabbed his father’s elbow. “Would you excuse us a moment, please, Abby? Kirk, we need to talk privately.”

The gray eyes flashed. “Can’t it wait? I’ve got a patient waiting. I came out to change into fresh scrubs.”

“This is important. As you said, I have work piling up back at Children’s Health.”

“Very well. Walk with me.” He spared a stiff smile for Abby. “If all goes well, I should have Sam in recovery by six o’clock.”

“I’ll go make my call,” she murmured. But she stood there a moment and watched the men walk away. Body language said a lot. Ben had jammed both hands in the pockets of his khaki slacks. His father threw back his shoulders. Ben said something and the older man whirled on his son. Abby could almost see the sparks flying during their brief exchange. Ben thrust out his chin. His dad waved his arms and kept shaking his head from side to side.

Abby wondered what they were saying. Were they discussing Sam? Her worry grew, especially as their argument came to a close and Ben slammed a fist into the wall before stalking off. Instead of coming to find her, he stiff-armed his way through the door to a stairwell and disappeared without a word.

His father continued down the hall in the opposite direction.

Abby didn’t see Kirk Galloway again until almost six-thirty. She was exhausted, hungry and intermittently weepy. The noted surgeon appeared brittle and tense.

“I understand Sam has siblings?” he said without preamble.

“Yes. Four brothers,” Abby murmured. “Two sets of twins, nine and seven.”

Galloway processed that information. Or maybe not. Abby couldn’t tell.

“Sam will be in recovery another hour. He’ll be under heavy sedation most of the night. I suggest you go home and settle his brothers. Come back in the morning. I’ll make rounds at six and update you at seven. Is that too early?”

“No. May I see him before I go? I imagine he’s upset and frightened.”

“Don’t baby the boy. He needs to be tough if he’s going to find the will to walk.”

“You mean—he m-might not?” Abby breathed in deeply to stem a threatening expulsion of fresh tears. She wished Ben had stayed. About now, she could use less of his father’s brusque manner and more of Ben’s TLC.

A nurse, obviously overhearing, stepped up to them. “You’ll owe Sam’s ability to walk entirely to Dr. Galloway’s surgical expertise.”

“Nonsense.” But Galloway preened. “If the boy walks, it’ll be because he thinks he can. His right leg, hip and ankle were crushed by his mother’s seat. I’ve straightened his lumbar spine. It remains to be seen if we’ll need to go in later and do any fusing. I repaired the boy’s right hip, knee, tarsal and metatarsal bones. What saved his life very probably is the fact that he was in a sturdy booster seat. Even though paramedics had to cut him out, his parents should be commended for adhering to the law. As robust a child as Sam is, some parents might ignore the law and declare him big enough to use a regular seat belt.”

Abby did her best to follow Dr. Galloway’s clipped speech. She found her mind wandering. Elliot and Blair’s van, with its seat belts for seven and Sam’s car seat, had obviously sustained considerable damage. Given the state law stipulating that kids had to be five years old or weigh fifty pounds to use regular seat belts—how would she manage to transport the lot of them in her midsize compact?

She sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“Am I going too fast for you, Ms. Drummond?” Dr. Galloway folded the chart, presumably Sam’s, clicked his slim sliver pen closed, and fixed a smile on Abby.

“I’m sorry. I just feel overwhelmed by everything I’m facing in the days and weeks to come. None of which I need to burden you with. But…did I miss hearing you say whether or not I can visit Sam?”

“I’ll authorize a brief visit. Say five minutes? I can’t promise he won’t be too woozy to recognize you. Which is just as well. You won’t want to get into explaining about his mom and dad yet.”

“No. Not today. First I’ll tackle telling the other four. Before I forget my manners altogether, thank you, Doctor. Frankly, if Ben hadn’t recommended you, and if you hadn’t been available…” She let the sentence trail off. But that was okay as he cut her off with a wagging finger.

“Save your thanks until after you’ve seen my bill. I’ll give you a courtesy discount, of course. I hear the quake played havoc with a ski trip you and my son had planned. Quite honestly, Ms. Drummond—Abby—you’re not what I’d expect Ben to… Oh, never mind. I’m pleased to see the boy taking an interest in something other than that clinic of his. Of course, if he’d followed my advice, his career would’ve allowed him more freedom, prestige and needless to say…more money.” Still smiling with his lips alone, Kirk Galloway, M.D. extraordinaire, left Abby in the hands of a passing nurse. One he stopped to bark orders at.

“From Dr. God’s mouth to my ears,” the young nurse muttered too low for the doctor to hear as he went on his way.

“But he is tops in his field?” Abby said.

“Yes. The best. Sorry, I shouldn’t have made that remark in front of you. My only excuse is that I hit the ground running at 6:00 a.m. and haven’t slowed since. Which isn’t your problem,” she added with a deprecating shrug.

“I sympathize,” Abby said. “I hope your day hasn’t been as bad as mine. After I see Sam I wonder…could you direct me to the department in the hospital that can tell me where—” she cleared her throat “—where, ah, a person or persons who died here might be sent?” Her throat clogged and her eyes filled with tears. “Funeral homes, I mean.”

The nurse broke her stride, and gave Abby a brief, spontaneous hug. “I’m on break, but I’ll wait until you visit Sammy, then I’ll get you a list of the area funeral homes. The front office gave each nursing center copies of the list after we began to get figures on fatalities. Last I heard it was ninety and rising.”

“Oh, so many? I’m from West Seattle. My brother and his wife were apparently almost across the bridge when it—” Abby swallowed hard, and ended by simply shaking her head. “I thought Taylor’s. They handled my parents’ funeral—a long time ago. Maybe them if they’re still in business.”

“They are. I’ll get them on the line while you look in on Sam.” Abby already had her nose pressed to a window of the glassed-in room. “Sam’s in the third bed. Someone’s monitoring his vital signs. Go on in. I’m sure Dr. Galloway gave an order to let you see him.”

“You’ve been very kind.”

“I wish that I could change your circumstances.” Gravely, the nurse, who was near Abby’s age, turned and went behind the counter at the nursing station. That left Abby wretchedly alone to enter a room that was silent except for the hum of monitors.

She glanced hesitantly at a nurse working with her nephew. Sam looked pitifully tiny, swathed as he was in padded white bandages. Abby’s chest constricted.

“Sam, honey, it’s Aunt Abby. Can you hear me?” Although his eyelids fluttered, they remained closed.

“He’s responding subconsciously to your voice,” the nurse whispered. “Try to speak normally.”

Abby blinked back stingingly hot tears. Try to speak normally? Sam’s life had changed dramatically today. Hers, too. From now on, their roles would be totally different. Never again would she be Aunt Abby, a person to whom Sam and his brothers could look to get them off the hook with their folks. She, who never raised her voice to the boys and rarely meted out discipline except occasionally on the school playground, would be a parent. Starting tomorrow. Large tears leaked from her eyes and dripped on Sam’s pristine sheets.

“Get better, guy,” she muttered. She did her utmost to keep her voice from sounding panicky. “I’ll be back in the morning, and I’ll bring Raggedy Andy,” she promised softly. Each of the children slept with a favorite toy. Sam’s was a rag doll Blair had made for his first birthday. Andy had undergone several surgical procedures himself. Maybe Sam would be comforted by that. Because the older of the two nurses kept eyeing her watch and then Abby, she took it as a hint to leave. Smoothing Sam’s mop of carrot-red curls, she dropped a kiss on the tip of his freckled nose. Abby had always been partial to this child. She understood firsthand the teasing he’d one day endure at the hands of schoolmates. Of her brother’s five children, only Sam had inherited Grandfather Drummond’s fiery Scots hair. The others all had strawberry-blond shades, and few freckles. Sam and Abby—kindred spirits.

With a last look at her broken nephew, Abby scrubbed at her cheeks and escaped from the room.

The nurse who’d promised to help Abby contact the funeral home appeared in her peripheral vision. “I have a representative from Taylor’s on the line in the conference room. Come. I’ll wait outside until you’ve finished making arrangements.”

“Thank you—what’s your name? I feel I should call you something.”

The woman frowned at the left side of her uniform. “Drat. I lost another name tag. I lose one a month. It should say Olivia Warren here.” Abby’s helpful companion tapped a torn flap near her left shoulder.

“Olivia? Oh, you’re the one who phoned me. I remember the name.”

“I made a lot of calls. Too many.” Pursing her lips, the nurse continued to stroke the spot where she was missing her name badge.

“Hmm. Perhaps you should take your uniforms to one of those firms that embroider names on kids’ ball shirts.” Part of Abby couldn’t conceive how she could carry on such a mundane conversation in the midst of tragedy. On the other hand, discussing inconsequential things gave her an excuse not to face the task she needed to face.

“I never thought of having my name stitched on. That’s a great idea.”

“Sports King in West Seattle does it on site. Our elementary school gives them a lot of business,” Abby said. “I teach second grade, and I coach sixth-grade girls’ soccer.” It dawned on Abby, as she entered the conference room and saw the phone lying on the table, that, too, would probably change in the coming months. She knew how much time Blair spent shuffling the boys to soccer, baseball, karate and what-have-you. She deliberately blanked from her mind the fact that Blair’s full-time job had been taking care of the house, the menagerie, the boys and…Elliot.

Picking up the phone with a damp hand, she said in a shaky voice, “This is Abigail Drummond.” She gave her address and mentioned that Taylor’s had handled her parents’ funeral. “I need to arrange for a double, ah, burial. No. I…don’t know if they had lots at Shady Glen. I understand you have to ask, but this is very…difficult for me. I’m calling to arrange for my brother and his wife. Apart from their asking if I’d serve as guardian to their sons, I’m afraid we never discussed the details of their…uh…wishes. I thought…we all thought we were planning for a remote possibility.” Abby’s voice faded.

“Uh, huh. Now I see the need, but then…sir…must I provide this information tonight? Oh, fine. I don’t mean to be difficult, but—” She burst into tears. “Sorry.” She blotted her eyes on her jacket sleeve. “If you could work with the officials at Mercy General, I’ll come in tomorrow and fill out the papers and give you a check.”

Abby fumbled the receiver as she attempted to hang it up. She looked through her tears as Olivia Warren popped into the room.

“Hey, are you okay? Taylor’s didn’t give you a hard time or anything, did they?”

“I expected this to be rough, Olivia,” Abby said around muffled sniffles. “I had no idea how bad. Taylor’s were nice enough. I’m just so horribly ill prepared.”

“Are you related to Dr. Galloway?” the woman asked as they left the room and started down the hall.

“No. What made you ask?”

“My friend said she saw you come out of the chapel with Dr. Kirk’s son. She said he had an arm around you.”

“We’re…” Abby hesitated. She’d started to say, friends. But in view of their interrupted plans, she supposed they were more. Right now, she wished they were much more. Which was odd. Abby couldn’t recall ever picturing herself married. If ever the vows of for better, for worse had meaning, this would be it.

“Ben and I met last year. I had one of his nieces in my class. We’ve dated. So, of course, he was my first thought when I learned Sam needed an orthopedic surgeon.”

“I see. You taught Ben’s niece? Then I guess you must know he lost his sister today.”

“What? No. No, I didn’t know anything of the kind.” Abby stumbled over nothing on the tiled floor. “Surely you misunderstood. I…saw Ben. We spoke. He talked with his father.” Abby waved a hand feebly.

“Yes,” Olivia said with eyes gone dark. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it, but apparently Dr. Ben and Dr. Kirk had a difference of opinion over who should look after the little girls.”

Going back over a scene she’d witnessed from afar, Abby pictured it from a new perspective. From Ben’s. They shared the same predicament, and her heart ached for him. For him and for Marlo’s sweet, sweet daughters. Was there no end to the horror of this earthquake? Abby wondered how she had tears left to cry.