Adam's Promise. Gail Gaymer Martin

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Adam's Promise - Gail Gaymer Martin Mills & Boon Love Inspired

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gave her a nod. “Yes, she would have been. I wish she knew.”

      “Perhaps she does, dear. We just never know.”

      Frank’s patience had reached its limit. He bounded from the chair and strutted across the room to the volunteer’s desk. Kate watched him pointing to his watch and to the telephone. She was sure the poor woman felt intimidated. He was a powerful, impressive man, and being the mayor of Colorado Springs, he was a man who expected action. Today he wasn’t getting it.

      The attendant held firm, and soon Adam’s father turned away, grabbed a cup of coffee from the dispenser and carried it back to the chair. “Anyone want any of this stuff? It’s so strong, it could stand alone without a cup.”

      Kate could attest to that. The acrid smell drifted toward her and curdled her stomach. She shook her head.

      Liza sent him a “No, thank you,” then leaned closer to Kate. “Frank has no patience. I wish he could learn that not everyone jumps at his bidding.”

      Kate only smiled.

      “I volunteer here, and I always feel badly for folks who have to wait so long for their loved ones,” Liza said.

      “You’re a volunteer at Vance Memorial?”

      “Yes. I’m usually at the front information desk, but I fill in where needed. Like I said, God wants us to do for others. Since I’m not a nurse or a doctor like Adam, I help in this way.”

      “What a lovely thing to do,” Kate said. She knew many rich women would spend their time at a country club or garden club meeting…all kinds of social soirées, but here was a woman who did something for others.

      “I sit on the board of the Galilee Women’s Shelter, too. We do fund-raisers for the facility, help out however we can.”

      Kate’s throat tightened, and she swallowed the emotion that strangled her. “Such a worthy cause. That must be very fulfilling.”

      “Indeed. It’s sad to learn how many women—sometimes even children—pass through its doors.”

      “I can imagine,” Kate said, holding back the feelings that continued to swell inside her. “I’m familiar with that center and its work. I’ve always admired the people who make it an option for women.”

      Liza’s gaze searched hers, as if trying to read into her comment, sending a queasy feeling to Kate’s stomach.

      “Our big fund-raiser is coming up in a few months,” Liza said.

      Kate breathed a relieved sigh. She was grateful Liza hadn’t probed about her personal life.

      “Fund-raisers require much work. We always need volunteers, and it takes many hours to make it happen.”

      “I can imagine,” Kate said, letting her ramble on while Kate nodded and smiled, but her mind was on Adam. She knew his parents were worried, too. While his father ranted and raved, Adam’s mother seemed to use chatter to ease her stress.

      A surgeon finally came through the doorway, paused a moment, then headed in their direction. “Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery?”

      Frank and Liza rose like soldiers snapping to attention when brass appeared. “How is he?” they asked in unison.

      The surgeon’s tired eyes studied their faces as if holding back something.

      No. Not Adam. Kate’s heart jolted as anxiety reared like an angry stallion. Kate held her breath.

      Chapter Three

      Kate’s limbs quaked waiting for the surgeon to break the silence. She was concerned that Gordon Reese hadn’t come to speak with the Montgomerys. He’d performed the surgery.

      “Your son is in recovery, then he’ll be moved to ICU. The bullet entered below the fifth intercostal space, traversed his diaphragm and punctured his stomach. We were able to stop the bleeding and make the repair.”

      “Why didn’t they know that in Venezuela?” Frank said, his voice rising in volume.

      “If he’d been conscious, Dr. Reese would have realized earlier, but the concussion masked the additional problem. If your son had been alert, he would have experienced abdominal pain. Remember, he’d already suffered a collapsed lung. Dr. Reese inserted a chest tube that saved his life.”

      Liza grasped Frank’s arm, hearing the surgeon’s words. For Kate, the reminder was more than she wanted.

      “Let’s be grateful the team spotted the next problem early,” the doctor said. “They notified the hospital and we were ready when they arrived.”

      Liza looked at the surgeon with pleading eyes. “Will he…will my son…?” Her voice quivered and she clutched her hands against her chest as if in prayer.

      “He’s critical…but that’s to be expected. We’ll know for sure in a couple of days, but for now, I’d say he’s doing better than we could hope for. He was in good health before the accident, and I’m confident he’ll pull through this.”

      Accident? Kate wanted to explain it wasn’t an accident but a horrible crime. She clamped her lips and swallowed the words. Explaining wasn’t her place. She was Adam’s co-worker. Nothing more.

      “I thought Dr. Reese performed the surgery,” Kate said.

      “We operated together. Gordon is exhausted. That’s why I came to talk with you.”

      “I was on the plane with him. I know he’s worn-out.”

      Kate was tired, too. Her thoughts soared back to the dispensary in Venezuela. She could see the blood seeping from Adam’s chest. She recalled the fear and anguish she felt seeing the handsome man slumped on the floor, seemingly lifeless. She blocked the ghastly vision.

      “Is he conscious now? When can we see him?” Frank asked.

      “They’ll let you know when you can go in,” the surgeon said, looking at Frank, then Liza. “Visiting will be limited until he’s in a regular room.”

      “Thank you, Doctor,” Liza said. Frank grasped his hand with a firm shake.

      The surgeon stepped away. The Montgomerys seemed to relax and settled into their seats.

      Kate’s heart ached but she managed to contain her concern. Adam hadn’t regained consciousness throughout the ordeal, and Kate knew what that meant. She leaned back, hoping to conceal her worry.

      “What in the good earth is an intercoastal space?” Frank asked, looking at Kate. “It’s all a bunch of mumbo jumbo to me.”

      “Intercostal space,” Kate corrected. “It’s the space between the fifth and sixth rib. The bullet went through the chest and exited Adam’s back. The damage could have been much worse. We should be very grateful.” She realized too late she’d used the word we.

      “Yes, indeed,” Liza said, her gaze searching Kate’s face as if mulling over what she’d said. She shifted her gaze toward her husband. “We should

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