She whimpered, fear sharpening the sound, and the man said quickly, his voice calm and low, “Just take shallow breaths. Don’t try to do anything else. Just breathe, that’s all you have to do. Do you understand me? That’s an oxygen mask over your face to help you. Don’t fight it; let it help you. We think you’ve got a collapsed lung. That’s why it hurts so much. But you’ve got to stay awake and pay attention, all right?”
God, it hurt so much. She tried to hold her breath, to stave off the horrible jabbing pain, but that didn’t work either. He was speaking to her again. Why had he repeated the same thing? Did he think she was stupid?
“I know you hurt, but hang in there. We’re nearly to the hospital and they’re waiting for you. Don’t worry. Just keep taking those little breaths. I’m glad to meet you, Lindsay. I’m Gene. Just lie still. We’ll be at the hospital very soon now. No, don’t try to move.”
“What happened?” It hurt so much to speak. And talking through the white plastic mask made her feel like she was speaking from a long way away.
“There was some sort of explosion and you were hit by falling debris.”
“Am I going to die… collapsed lung?”
“Oh, no, not you. You’ll be fine. I promise.”
“Taylor. Please call Taylor.”
“Yes, I will, I promise. No, don’t try to move. I’ve got an IV in your arm. We don’t want you to rip it out. Just keep breathing.”
“There were so many screams.”
“No one else was hurt, but everyone was scared. You were standing right next to that fake rigging when it blew. Tell me again. Who are you?”
“I was there because I’m Eden.”
He frowned, but she didn’t see it. It hurt too much and she didn’t want him to see her lose control. She turned her head away from him. The pain continued. She’d never imagined before how it would feel not to be able to breathe. For every small intake there was such pain that her whole body shook with it.
“How is she, Gene?”
“She’s doing fine, at least I hope to God she is. The pain’s bad, but she’s hanging in there.” He turned away from the driver to her. “I’m sorry, Eden, but we can’t give you anything for the pain yet. The trauma team has to check you out first. Just hold on, hold on. Squeeze my fingers, think about my fingers and squeeze when you hurt real bad. We’re almost there, almost there.” Gene wondered if Taylor was her husband. Dear God, the man would be in for a shock when he saw his wife. She was a model. He looked at the right side of her face. It was difficult to tell how bad it was smashed because of all the blood. He held her hand more tightly. Gene O’Mallory wanted her to be all right. He wanted it very much.
There were six people standing over her, three men and three women. They were cutting off her clothes, speaking to each other, jabbing at her, prodding and poking, but through it all, there was someone’s hand on her forearm gently stroking and there was a soft woman’s voice with that stroking, saying over and over, “It’s going to be all right. You’re here with us now and we’ll make sure you’re okay. Do you understand me, Lindsay? It will be all right.”
Someone else said, “She’s that fashion model, Eden. First things first, but, Elsie, call Dr. Perry. Tell him to get over here on the double.”
Elsie said, “Gene called him from the ambulance. Perry’s on his way.”
Lindsay felt cold on her skin. She knew somewhere in her mind that she was naked, just as she had been so long ago in Paris. But she felt too much pain to care. Just to take a single breath was beyond anything she could ever have imagined. But the gentle stroking on her forearm continued and she tried to concentrate on it.
A man was very close to her face. He said, “Lindsay? Good, listen to me now. You’ve got a collapsed lung. A broken rib punctured it. So we’ve got to cut a little incision over here between your ribs—near your side, yes, right here—and stick in a tube. We’ll hook it up to a lung machine and it will reinflate your lung. It won’t hurt. It’ll all be over in just a few minutes and you’ll be able to breathe again without the pain. Okay? You understand?”
The fingers paused on her forearm.
“Yes, I understand.”
“Okay, let’s get it done, guys.”
Five minutes later, Lindsay took a breath that didn’t feel like she was going to die. She even managed a smile at the man bending over her.
“Better?”
“Yes, much better.”
“Now, you’ve got two broken ribs. We’ll leave them alone, but they’re going to hurt for a while. We’ve been giving you morphine through the IV. Do you have any more pain?”
It was odd, but she didn’t. “My face?”
“Your face—yes, Dr. Perry’s here and he’s going to take over now.”
The gentle fingers on her forearm stopped and Lindsay felt panic. “Where are the fingers?”
Someone said, “What’s she talking about?”
“What’s going on?”
“Oh, she means Debra. Deb, get back over here!”
The fingers were on her arm again. She closed her eyes.
It was all right. The voice came again, soft and warm.
Dr. Perry identified himself. He was a plastic surgeon and he specialized in facial reconstruction, he said. They were going to take her to CT scan and then they’d see exactly what the problems were. She wasn’t to worry. If she felt any pain, she was to sing out.
Lindsay was fully prepared to sing, but the pain she felt was so slight compared to what she’d already endured, she didn’t say anything.
Time passed. Debra didn’t leave her. Lindsay said to her, “Taylor. He’s my fiance. Could you call him?”
“After I see you safe into surgery, Lindsay. Then I’ll call him, I promise. Give me his number.”
Dr. Perry was back and he spoke gently and slowly. “You’re lucky, Ms. Foxe. The flesh on your right cheek isn’t very damaged, which means little to no scarring. However, the blows you took smashed the bones here and here and here.” He lightly pointed to his own face to show her. “We need to go in right now and fix them. You’ll be good as new in three weeks.”
“Can I see?”
“I don’t think you should.”
Lindsay thought about that. The right side of her face was numb. She raised her right hand, but Debra grabbed it and forced it back to her side. She leaned close. “No, Lindsay, don’t. Just lie still, that’s it.”
Dr. Perry’s voice came again. “I’ll need you to sign the surgery consent forms, Ms. Foxe.”
She did. Within fifteen minutes she was being wheeled to surgery. She felt no pain. Her head was cloudy. She wasn’t scared.
The explosion had happened at twelve-thirty.
She was in surgery by three-thirty.
Demos stood in the hospital corridor, leaning against the wall near the door to what would be her private room, once she came out of surgery, once she came out of recovery.
It would be some time now before she was out of surgery. The surgery was on her face, being performed by a Dr. Perry, one of the top plastic surgeons in the country, the nurse had assured him, not once but four times, one of the very best, and he’d said the bones were situated ideally to be reconstructed and slipped back into their proper place and they weren’t to worry, which sounded disgusting to Demos. But why, Demos had wondered, why operate on her face now?
The nurse was patient with him, explaining that if they hadn’t done it immediately, there would be swelling that would preclude doing it for a week, at least. Lindsay had agreed, naturally.
“But how could she agree?”
“She was conscious, Mr. Demos. Dr. Perry did an immediate CT scan on her face and her head. You’ll have to speak to him, Mr. Demos. But she should be out of surgery around seven o’clock and then it’s recovery for about an hour. Why don’t you go have dinner?”
