Chapter 8

 

The haze of desperation began to recede from Owen’s mind, leaving just enough adrenaline to provide the clarity he needed. He took a sip of the ice water the nurse had left for him, hoping to soothe his sore throat before he spoke.

“Lena is now the owner of GC, but she’s obviously in no condition to make decisions. Other than leaving the company in Lena’s hands, I don’t know what else Nate’s will might entail, but I’m sure there’s a plan B in case she’s unable to do the job. Logan’s right. Knowing Nate as I do… did… I’m sure he would’ve put Phelps as her second-in-command.”

“Exactly, but what can we do about it?” Logan wondered aloud. It was Sean who answered.

“Well… Technically speaking, my firm is on retainer for GC, which means I’m Lena’s attorney. I could probably talk my way into some business meetings, but I wouldn’t be able to make any decisions on her behalf without a signed contract to that effect. I’m afraid I’m not understanding the issue with Phelps, though. What is it you suspect him of?”

Owen and Logan took turns relaying a cliff notes version of everything that had happened since Lena had stumbled upon the possible evidence of Phelps’ embezzlement six months earlier. Sean had risen to his feet about halfway through their retelling, his expression troubled and thoughtful.

“Did you tell the police you suspected Phelps of being involved with the shooting?”

“No,” Owen sighed ruefully. “We knew there wasn’t any evidence of it, and we thought it would be better if he remained unaware of our suspicions. If it turned out that he was involved, we knew there was a good chance he’d redouble his efforts, but we figured someone in that position would probably be able to buy his way out of the investigation. Suspicion wouldn’t have been enough for the cops to go on.”

“So, you were following him.”

“I was,” Logan clarified. “The night I followed him to that alley, I thought he was buying drugs. It didn’t seem to fit his personality, but we figured he wouldn’t have been the first rich businessman to be a functional drug addict.” Sean nodded thoughtfully.

“I understand your logic, I suppose. If the police don’t link the investigations now, the media will do it for them. They’ll dig up everything to do with GC, Nate, and Phelps from the last few years, but that won’t necessarily put the target on Phelps.

“Now, as to how I can help… I’m afraid the best I will be able to do in most situations is stall some of the major decisions. I’m just one of many attorneys on the books for GC, and Phelps will have lawyers of his own. I’ll look into things and see if there’s a Power of Attorney on file for Lena, but in the absence of that, the business decisions will most likely fall to Phelps.”

“What about decisions for her medical treatment?” Owen asked anxiously, his eyes scanning the area for his mother again. “If Phelps wants her dead…”

“He’s not family, Owen. Those decisions would fall to her next of kin. Now, we all know you’re not technically her fiancé yet, but there are no other living family members to challenge you.”

“Phelps might know that we’re not really engaged yet.”

“He’d have to be able to prove it, and he can’t,” Sean replied. “It’s not like proposals involve a written contract, and as I said, there are no other family members to contest it. The problem will be GC. I don’t have the power to step in on business decisions. If Nate left Phelps as Lena’s second, then he has the decision-making power for GC until such time as Lena can take over.”

“And fire him,” Logan muttered. “Lena doesn’t trust him.”

The room fell into a brief silence as everyone digested the current state of things. Owen hated that Phelps was now at the helm of Nate’s company, but there was truly nothing they could do about it for the moment. He felt a rush of appreciation for Sean’s presence and cool-headed logic as well as for Logan’s unwavering support. Owen had been drowning, but now he felt awake.

He was ready to fight. For GC, for Nate, and most of all, for Lena.

The glass door slid open, and Owen’s eyes snapped upward, a chill sweeping through his body at the expression on Mary’s face. She was doing her best to give him a reassuring smile, but he could tell she’d been crying. He was promptly on his feet, momentarily forgetting the IV in his arm, and Mary gently pushed him back onto the bed.

“You look better, dear,” she said honestly. He didn’t waste time acknowledging the compliment.

“Lena?”

“She’s still in surgery, but she’s doing alright. I’m sorry it took me so long to come back…” Mary trailed off, choosing her words carefully and trying to keep things clinical. “They were able to bring her ICP down to a safer number, but it’s still a little high. They’re trying to avoid a full craniotomy, and it seems that the boreholes have accomplished the goal thus far.

“The orthopedic surgeon is setting the fractures in her ribs and collarbone, and surgical pins will be used to keep them in place. They’re also taking care of as much of the burned tissue as they can while she’s under general anesthesia. She has second degree burns on parts of her back and the backs of her arms. Considering how close she must’ve been to the blast, she was very lucky in that regard.”

“So, she’s… She’s going to be okay?” Owen whispered, graphic images of surgical practices haunting him. He didn’t want to think of his love that way.

“Her prognosis is good right now. It took me a little longer than I expected to get an update because… because while I was waiting, she flatlined again. They got her back very quickly,” Mary rushed to assure him as his features crumpled in agony. “She’s stable now, and they’re working to finish things up. As for her recovery… It won’t be easy, Owen. She’s going to need you—”

“She has me,” he said fervently. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“I know. They’re going to be keeping her in a medically-induced coma for a little while so her body can focus all of its energy on healing.” Mary’s gentle voice did nothing to assuage the horror of her words.

“How long?”

“They can’t say for sure yet. It will depend on the stability of her ICP once she’s out of surgery. If I had to make an educated guess, I’d say at least a few days. But waking her up won’t be a quick process, Owen. Even after they stop the medication, it could take Lena a few more days to come around.”

“But she will come around?” He could hear the desperation in his own voice, but he didn’t care. He needed hope. He needed to know that the woman he loved would come back to him. Mary hesitated again before answering.

“Every surgery has risks, darling. Neurosurgery has more risks than some others. Lena’s doctor will be by after the surgery to talk to you about possible complications. It’s not my specialty, so I don’t want to speak out of turn.”

“Right, but... she’ll make it?” Owen persisted. Mary winced and squeezed his hand sympathetically.

“If she makes it through the next twenty-four hours, her prognosis is good. But let’s not think too far ahead right now. Just take it one hour at a time, okay? Lena’s a strong young woman, and she’s fighting. Let’s focus on staying strong for her too.”

An hour at a time.

The words echoed in Owen’s mind for several hours as they waited for Lena to come out of surgery. The doctors were setting bones, drilling holes in her skull, debriding burns, and sewing her up… His brain rebelled against the thought of his sweet Lena in that condition. Owen was having difficulty taking things even a minute at a time, and he was once again lost in his thoughts as the quiet conversations buzzed around him.

Cook eventually showed up for duty, but Wyatt decided to wait for news rather than go home. A pair of FBI forensic technicians arrived to take samples from Owen’s clothing, hair, and skin, and as Valerie had predicted, she was called into her lab not long after the techs took their leave. Samples had been collected from Lena in similar fashion before she’d gone into surgery. The ER doctor discharged him, and everyone relocated to the waiting room designated for the families of surgical patients. The lack of privacy stalled most of the discussions about Phelps and GC for the time being.

The surgeons sent their residents out with occasional updates to reassure everyone that Lena was still alive and fighting, and when at last Doctors Thompson and Sharpe appeared, they looked significantly more tired than when Owen had last seen them. He held his breath as they spoke in calm, reassuring tones, and his brain seemed to process their words at half-speed.

Intracranial pressure decreased and holding steady… fractures repaired… treated for smoke inhalation and second-degree burns… comatose for at least three days…

Throughout the duration of the report, Mary’s hand never left Owen’s, and when the surgeons turned to leave, he felt his muscles start to unclench. He knew Lena wasn’t out of the woods yet, but the news was mostly good news. She’s going to make it, he thought with determination. She has to.

His Ellie was a fighter.

 

 

Although Mary and the other doctors had tried to prepare Owen for what Lena would look like, the sight of her in the ICU in the wee hours of Monday morning still stunned him to his core. He compared her appearance to what it had been the last time he’d seen her, and while he couldn’t really say she looked better, it was definitely a step in the right direction. When she’d been snatched away from him in the emergency room, she’d been battered and burned, her skin and clothing coated in a layer of soot that had made her nearly unrecognizable.

Now Lena was wrapped almost entirely in white, either from the gauze bandages covering her injuries or the white bed linens that had been pulled up over the lower half of her body. Owen had expected the surgeons to shave her head for the surgery, but to his surprise, she still had thick waves soft, crimson hair that had been cleaned as well as possible without the benefit of an actual bath or shower. There was a complicated network of tubes and wires connecting her fragile body to the many machines that had been placed around the bed. Lena was still intubated, and her chest rose and fell in time with the gentle whooshing sound of the ventilator.

She looked small and frail in the large hospital bed, and Owen felt his heart break a little more for her as he fell to his knees beside the bed. He’d been here before, all those years ago, gazing hopefully over the edge of a bed at her silent form and watching for signs of life. It had been tragic then, but it was devastating now. Eventually, the hard tile floor began to wear on his knees, and Owen settled for pulling the single chair as close to the bed as possible. He slipped his hand into hers and squeezed gently, gazing at her bruised face.

“I’m here, baby. You’re not alone. Everyth… You’re going to be okay,” he promised. His voice was low and quiet, and he prayed it would reach her somehow. He was desperate to comfort her, but there was no sign of movement or cognition in response to his words.

As he watched the ventilator breathe for her, Owen’s mind inevitably wondered what would happen when Lena woke up. He refused to entertain the possibility that she might not. He knew he would have to tell her that Nate was dead, and the prospect was daunting. She and Nate had been arguing just before the explosion. She’d finally summoned the nerve to be honest with her father in spite of the knowledge that the truth would hurt him, and that heated exchange had been their last. It wasn’t difficult to predict where Lena’s mind would take her when Owen gave her the news. If she truly believed she’d contributed to her mother’s death, then surely she would come to a similar conclusion about the death of her father.

Owen cringed, touching his forehead to the back of her limp hand. There was no way he’d let anyone else tell her about Nate. It had to come from him. He was determined to do whatever it took to help her through everything, and he knew that grief was only the beginning of what she would be dealing with. Lena would also have to come to terms with the fact that she was now the sole owner of Gardner Components. The future she’d never wanted was now an irrevocable reality.

For the few minutes between Lena and Nate’s departure from Phelps’ dining room and the explosion that had taken Nate’s life, Owen had hoped that perhaps Lena had reached a turning point. As uncomfortable as the timing of their conversation might have been, it would’ve been well worth it if her argument with Nate had led to a change in her circumstances.

But that hadn’t happened. The world had caught fire, and Lena had lost her father along with any chance that her future might be what she wanted. She’d felt trapped before, but it would be exponentially worse now. Short of selling off GC to the highest bidder, there was really no way to escape, and Owen knew Lena would never do such a thing. She would keep GC, if for no other reason than to preserve her father’s legacy and honor his memory.

“Owen,” Mary’s quiet voice interrupted his thoughts from the doorway. He sat up in his seat and acknowledged her with a nod, but his eyes didn’t leave Lena’s face. “I’m going to head home and get a few hours’ sleep. Why don’t you come with me, dear? You can get a real shower and rest for a while—”

“No,” he shook his head, not letting her finish. “I’m not leaving her here alone.” Mary came to stand next to him, placing a gentle hand on the back of his neck.

“Sweetheart, you’re well outside of visiting hours already. They’ll ask you to leave soon, and even if you were in any condition to drive, you don’t have a car here.”

“I’m not leaving. If they kick me out of this room, I’ll wait outside. I’ll sleep on the floor if it comes to that, but I’m not leaving this building until she can come with me.”

Mary sighed, understanding his determination but knowing that such an arrangement would be impossible. Lena would most likely be in the hospital for several weeks, and Owen wouldn’t be able to put his entire life on hold for that long. But be that as it may, now was not the time to argue. She quietly excused herself from the room and went in search of the nursing supervisor. Twenty minutes later, she returned to Lena’s ICU room with a clean set of scrubs and a plan.

“I got permission for you to use the showers in one of the staff locker rooms,” Mary explained, placing the scrubs on his lap. “These should fit you well enough until we can get you some regular clothes. I’m working on getting you set up in one of the patient family rooms on the floor above this one, but that will take a little longer. In the meantime, there’s an on-call room just outside the ICU where you can sleep for a few hours.”

For the first time since entering Lena’s room, Owen managed to drag his eyes away from her bandaged form. He wanted to refuse any suggestion that would take him from her side, but he knew Mary’s solution made sense. He was surprised the ICU staff had let him stay in the room this long anyway, and he knew it was a matter of time before they showed up to make him leave. He glanced at Cook, who was stationed outside of Lena’s door, and his anxiety eased a little. Thanks to Sean’s persuasive discussion with the hospital’s chief of staff, Lena’s security detail would not be bound by visiting hours.

“Thanks, Mom,” Owen whispered.

Mary’s eyes shimmered at the moniker, realizing that, until earlier that evening in the ER, she’d never heard him call anyone by that name. She suspected Owen had always called Vera ‘Mother,’ even in his thoughts. Mary bent to hug him somewhat awkwardly, and he put his free arm around her in return, still refusing to let go of Lena’s hand.

“You’re welcome, son.” She pressed her lips to his forehead, noting that his hair still smelled like smoke. “Will you come with me so I can show you where to shower and sleep?”

Owen opened his mouth to suggest she simply give him directions, but at that moment, the glass door slid open behind them. The ICU nurse had a kind but determined expression on her face and gently reminded him that visiting hours would begin at nine a.m. Owen would have loved to tell her off and stage a sit-in, but he knew such petulance wouldn’t do him any favors. Lena was bound to be in the hospital for quite a while, and he needed to keep himself in the good graces of the staff.

With careful tenderness, he brushed his lips against Lena’s pale cheek, his eyes stinging with tears as he forced himself to turn away from her and follow Mary from the room. Owen nodded at Cook on his way out.

“No one unauthorized gets in,” Owen said firmly. “You have the list?”

“Yes, sir.”

Owen allowed Mary to show him where the locker and on-call rooms were, and she hugged him goodbye before heading home. He’d given her his key to the apartment so she could stop and pick up a change of clothes for him on her way back to the hospital in a few hours’ time. Showering in the staff locker room was less uncomfortable than he might’ve expected, had he the energy to care about the awkwardness of the situation. Once clothed in a set of gray scrubs, Owen slipped silently into the on-call room and fell onto one of the vacant beds, setting the alarm clock on the side table to wake him just four hours later.

He fell into a fitful sleep, his dreams punctuated by violent explosions, intense heat, and screams of terror. Each time his mind forced his body into wakefulness, he found himself bathed in sweat, his heart pounding frantically in his chest. It was all he could do not to sprint back to Lena’s room for a glimpse of her sleeping face to reassure himself that she was, in fact, still alive. When the alarm went off at eight, Owen practically bolted up from the bed, ignoring the aching fatigue in his body.

Rounding the rounded the corner, he was somewhat mollified to see Cook still keeping watch. Owen stationed himself on the opposite side of the doorway, and they stood like sentinels guarding a sacred treasure. When at last visiting hours officially commenced, Owen returned to his previous post at Lena’s bedside, gazing longingly at her closed eyes and pressing kisses into her palm.

Logan slipped into the room only a half hour later, and Owen didn’t bother to ask how he’d managed to get around the one-visitor-at-a-time rule. Although both of their minds were actively working through the myriad of complications that would be arising over the following days and weeks, their vigil was a silent one. Nearly every action they could take in regard to the grand scheme of things was stalled, like dominoes waiting for the initial impact that would set things in motion.

Everything depended on Lena.