Faith (3 page)
Authors: Michelle Larks
Chapter 3
Monet coughed and opened a swollen, blackened eye. Then she opened her other eye and looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Suddenly her memory kicked in about what had happened, and she screamed through puffy lips as she tried to sit upright in the bed. Marcus burst into the room from the hallway and ran to her side. He attempted to take his bruised and battered wife into his arms, but she cowered and pushed Marcus away from her body with failing arms. Then she collapsed back onto the bed from pain. Marcus stood helplessly, with his arms dangling by his sides. He reached out to touch Monet again, his hand brushing the top of her head.
His voice cracked as he said, “Babe, it's me, Marcus. You've been hurt, and you're in the hospital. They're going to take care of you.”
Monet looked over at Marcus with deadened eyes. She tried to moisten her cracked lips, but cringed from the pain. She raised a hand and felt her lips. “My God, what happened to me?” Her eyes traveled over her body.
Monet's primary care physician, Dr. Washington, who worked at St. Bernard, walked in the room, and Jean, a nurse, followed her. The women went over to the bed. Dr. Washington bent over Monet and said, “I'm glad to see that you've regained consciousness. We know you suffered a mild concussion. The good news is that you came to on your own.”
Monet looked at the doctor blankly, like she didn't have a clue as to what she was talking about. Then she turned over in the bed and faced the wall.
Dr. Washington, a tall, regal looking African American woman said to Marcus, “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?” Marcus glanced over at Monet and nodded. The nurse checked Monet while Marcus and the doctor left the room and stood in the hallway. “I know how distressful this must be to you, Mr. Caldwell. Trust me when I say we'll do our best to help Monet. She's one of our own,” Dr. Washington stated.
“I know she was beaten, that's obvious. Please tell me that my wife wasn't violated,” Marcus begged. His heart felt like it was breaking. It was one thing to see people injured; that was normal for him in his line of work. But it was excruciating to see the aftermath of a crime perpetrated against a loved one. He wasn't handling the situation well from an emotional standpoint.
His wife had been beaten and God knows what else, and life just seemed to go on as usual. He could hear the buzz from other patients in cubicles waiting to see a doctor. How could God allow life to just go on? Marcus had a hard time dealing with that.
“Mr. Caldwell, I'm sorry, but from our preliminary exam, it appears Monet was sexually assaulted,” Dr. Washington said sorrowfully.
“How could that happen?” Marcus's voice rose. “I know the hospital isn't in the best area in the city, but you have security guards and cameras. Did anyone see anything?”
Dr. Washington shook her head. “The security camera in the parking lot was malfunctioning, so we don't have anything on tape. Dave, the security guard, is beside himself with grief. He offered to escort Monet to her car, but she refused.”
“My God, can't you guys do anything right? You mean all of this could've been prevented if the security guard had done his job? I have a mind to sue this hospital.” Marcus voice rained thunder on the doctor.
“Mr. Caldwell, I am so sorry. Maybe Monet got a good look at the man, and she'll be able to help the police identify him. Everyone loves Monet here at the hospital. She's one of the best nurses in the maternity ward. Believe me, we'll do anything we can to help her.” Dr. Washington's hand tugged nervously on the stethoscope hanging around her neck.
“Did you at least run tests for STDs and AIDS?” Marcus asked, as his stomach somersaulted inside his body.
“Yes we did, and we've put a rush on them so we can get the results ASAP. We should have them today by noon,” Dr. Washington answered. Her heart went out to Marcus. She could only imagine what he must be feeling.
“Monet looked so banged up. Does she have any internal injuries?” Marcus asked.
Dr. Washington shook her head. “We know that she suffered a concussion. One of her arms was wretched out of the socket, and we had to reset it. Her body is bruised, but most of the assault was to her face, and the swelling should subside as the week goes on.”
“Okay, I'm going back to stay with Monet.” Marcus turned away from the doctor. His hollowed checks seemed pinched with anguish as he returned to the room.
Dr. Washington walked to the nurses' station. She instructed one of the nurse's aides to stay on the laboratory until Monet's test results were available, and to bring them to her immediately. She shook her head sadly as she peered toward Monet's cubicle.
“Also, call central registration and make sure a room is ready for Monet. We need to move her to a regular room since she's conscious,” Dr. Washington said.
“Will do,” the nurse stated. “It's a shame what happened to Monet. No one is safe anywhere, even at work.”
“Just make the calls,” Dr. Washington instructed. She picked up a chart and walked to the next cubicle to handle the next emergency.
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Marcus sat in the chair next to Monet's bed. He took her hand and she tried to resist, but he kept holding it until she stopped struggling. She turned and looked at Marcus. Her swollen eyes spilled tears.
“Marcus, I'm so sorry,” she choked out.
“Babe, you have nothing to be sorry about. What happened isn't your fault,” he reassured her gently.
“Dave offered to walk me to my car, and I said no.” Monet's voice crumbled with agony.
“You had no way of knowing that a degenerate was lurking outside, just waiting for someone to prey upon.” Marcus tried to console his wife.
Monet began sobbing loudly. The sounds were raspy and ugly. Marcus hopped out of the chair and sat on the bed next to her. He pulled her into his arms, and they cried together. After they had released some of the horror they were feeling, the couple looked up to see an orderly walking into the cubicle pushing a wheelchair.
“Hello, Miss Monet,” Ramon said. “Dr. Washington told me to come and get you and take you the fifth floor. They have a room waiting for you. Miss Monet, I just want to say I'm so sorry about what happened.”
Monet dropped her eyes and nodded her head.
Jean returned to the cubicle. “Ramon, give us a moment before you take Nurse Caldwell upstairs.” She held a dressing gown. “Let me help her put this on, and I'll call you when she's ready.”
“Okay. Just holler when you're ready,” the young man replied, and walked out of the cubicle.
“Can you stand up?” Jean asked Monet.
When Monet stood up, her legs wobbled like Jell-O. She immediately grabbed her head. Marcus caught his wife before she fell back onto the bed.
“Sit on the bed, and I'll help you get the gown on. Then your husband and I will help you into the chair,” Jean instructed Monet compassionately.
Monet followed Jean's instruction, and before long, the gown enclosed her body. Marcus picked up his wife, cradled her like she was a baby, and gently deposited her into the wheelchair.
“Are you ready?” Jean questioned. She couldn't help but notice the unhappy look on her fellow nurse's face.
“I don't know . . . I don't want anyone to see me like this.” Monet lightly touched her face and shivered. “I haven't seen my face, but I bruise easily, so I know I must look a wreck.”
“Why don't I get another gown and you can use that to shield your face?” Jean suggested, wringing her hands.
“Thanks, I guess that will have to do,” Monet replied miserably.
The nurse left and returned a few minutes later with a dressing gown and a white bath towel. She held them out to Monet. “Take your pick.” Monet chose the towel.
Jean hesitated. “Um, I think I should warn you that some of the media have converged upon the hospital. Not a lot, but enough to disrupt the flow of business around here a bit. We've done our best to keep them at bay. Monet, getting you healed is our number one priority. So Ramon is going to wheel you through a back entrance and up to the fifth floor,” she said.
“Thanks, Jean. I don't think I'm quite ready to face anyone at this point.” Monet looked down at the floor.
“If you're ready, I'll get Ramon and we can get you settled in your room. Dr. Washington wants you to stay overnight for observation,” Jean said.
“I'm not really ready,” Monet gulped, “but now is as good a time as any.” She reached for Marcus's hand and clutched it tightly.
Jean nodded and went to get Ramon. Then the four of them headed for the freight elevator, up to a private room on the fifth floor. Before long, Monet was in bed and had taken a sedative and painkiller that Dr. Washington had prescribed.
Marcus sat on the bed beside his wife and held her gently in his arms until she fell asleep. It pained him like a toothache to see her beautiful face battered. Monet was light skinned, and he knew it was going to take some time before the bruises completely faded.
Vines of wrath wrapped around his heart. Every time Monet moaned, or her body quivered, he felt so angry that he wanted to kill the man who had harmed his wife. What galled Marcus the most was how the man had the nerve to laugh in his face. Marcus realized that what he was thinking was wrong, but he couldn't help himself. After all, that was his wife lying in the hospital bed looking like someone had used her face for a punching bag.
Marcus gently pulled his arms from around Monet's body and laid her back on the bed. He stood up and rubbed his face hurriedly, trying to erase the tracks of tears that he knew were showing. He decided to call Monet's brothers, and hoped that Wade had called Liz to come to the hospital. He was surprised to see that only a few hours had elapsed because it seemed like a lifetime had gone by since he'd left the police station.
He took once last look at Monet. “Lord, I know you said vengeance is yours. But that philosophy doesn't sit too well with me. I would be less than a man if I didn't protect what's mine. And that lady lying over there on that bed is my everything. Thank you, God, for sparing her life. I know it could have been worse. But if it takes every breath in my body and the rest of the days of my life, I will find the man that did this to Monet and . . .” Marcus ceased speaking; he hadn't thought beyond that.
When he walked out of the room, his shoulders were set, and he was determined to find out exactly what Smitty and Wade had learned so far. He also made a mental note to stop at the gift shop and have flowers delivered to Monet's room. He wasn't looking where he was going and almost ran over Liz.
“Sorry,” he said, reaching out to steady Liz.
Liz opened her arms, stood on her toes and hugged Marcus, who hugged her back. The medium tall, plus sized, caramel colored woman, who always had a cheerful smile, sniffled. “How is she?” she asked, after she stepped away from Marcus's embrace. Liz had a pretty dimpled face, a heart and smile as large as her curvy hips, and she was anxious about her friend's mental and physical state. She had a light sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and she wore her hair cut short and gelled.
“Nay-Nay is awake and responsive, so I guess she's doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances. But she hasn't talked about what happened,” Marcus answered.
“I'm so sorry, Marc. Monet didn't deserve what happened to her. No one should have to go through that. There are some sick people in the world,” Liz commiserated. She was employed in the Human Resources Department at the hospital. She also had a master's degree in Psychology, and was Monet's best friend. “Do the police have any leads yet? I looked for Wade when I got here, but Smitty told me he was out doing some investigating.”
“That's just what I was about to do myself. If you could sit with Monet until I get back from checking in with the guys and running a few errands, I would really appreciate it,” Marcus said.
“Boy, you know you don't have to ask me that,” Liz scolded. “That's my best friend in there. Monet's like a sister to me. I'll stay as long as you need me.”
“Thanks, Liz. Monet's asleep. When she wakes up, call me.”
“No problem. Marc, I think I know you pretty well, and I'm asking you not to be hasty. Let the investigation run its course. Please don't try to take matters into your own hands,” Liz implored, and pulled on his jacket for emphasis.
“I guess you do know me, and I'll wait for the department to do their job. But if I feel like they aren't being effective, then I can't promise that I won't get involved,” Marcus said.
“I had a feeling you were going to say that.” Liz sighed. “I know you're focused on the department right now, but I implore you to remain prayerful. This is a prime situation for Satan to cast doubts in your mind. We both know the Father above is in charge, and He will take care of this situation as He does everything in life,” she said.
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