Ruby Red 3 - A Romance for All Time (Complete)

Chapter 40

It was dark.

In the blackness, a high ping kept repeating.

Ping

Ding

Beep

Beep... Beep... Beep...

The noise reverberated across his skull, into his brain, each drop slicing through the darkness like a knife. It hurt.

To prepare for the next sound, he took a breath. A mistake. Hot, burning pain seethed in his chest. He tried to stop breathing, halt the excruciating stabbing. 

An even bigger mistake. Air caught in his throat, instincts kicked in, he coughed. The hurt before akin to a splinter in his thumb compared to the agonizing pain ripping through his torso.

"Mr. Harrington?" The woman's voice was soft, full of concern, but not the one he wanted to hear. The one who would tell him everything would be alright, make it alright. He tried to call for Ali, but only managed to start another round of coughs.

The voice nearer now. "Try little breaths, slow inhales and exhales." A warm, dry hand on his arm.

He followed her advice, focused on the act of breathing, not the pain it caused each time he inhaled, air inflating his lungs. With the effort, the pain in his ribs slowly subsided, leaving only the other dull aches to contend with.

"That's it. Can you open your eyes for me?"

It shocked Sam how much effort it took to pry his eyelids open. He had to concentrate, focus on the motion. In between small inhales of air, he blinked against the bright, artificial light. White ceiling tiles came into view. Through the fog his brain seemed to be shrouded in he put together the pieces, the beeping, the coarse material scratching his skin, the foreign yet caring voice of what might be a nurse and guessed he was in a hospital.

Had something happened? He'd been on the plane, that much he was sure of. Was there a crash?

A dark face that had seen a few years on this earth blocked out the white ceiling, peering down at him before flashing another light in his eyes. This time he remembered to keep the shallow breaths going as he forced out the words. "Where's Ali?"

"Very good, Mr. Harrington. Do you know what day it is?"

The question took him by surprise. Of course, he knew the day. Today Ali presented to the board. He had to leave, go to her. He needed a car. 

And it all came flooding back.

The car. On his way to Ali. His head down, looking at his phone as he searched for a dinner reservation to celebrate their impending victory over Jack at the board meeting. The limo driver promised to get him to Stinson Studios within the half hour, which would have made him only five minutes late for the scheduled start of Ali's pitch.

There was a slight shake in her voice when he'd called to say he'd be late, a sign she was nervous. She told him she could see her not so favourite crinkle in his forehead and not to worry. But he did, wanted to be there for her, support her. And watch her take her company back, take down her ex-husband.

One moment the phone in his hand, the next in the air, the impact of something hitting the car tossing it across the backseat. The world turned upside down next, clear blue sky beneath, cold grey road above. Everything spun as what was happening dawned on him. Sam had just enough time to wonder if this was what it was like for Thomas before the lights went out.

"It's Thursday." He licked his lips., looked around for some water to help his dry throat. Sterile walls matched a gleaming white floor, a chair covered in bleached leather sat in a corner. The sparse room dominated by the bed he lay in, covered by a white blanket with two thin blue stripes cutting through the fabric by his feet. "It's still Thursday, right?"

The nurse fiddled with some buttons on the machine behind him - the source of the incessant beeping and the sound stopped. "Yes, still Thursday. Are you feeling any pain, besides the breathing?"

"My head, it... I have a headache."

"That's understandable. On a scale of one to ten, with ten being unbearable, can you describe the pain?"

One hundred and fifty felt like the right answer. "Seven."

The nursed nodded. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I... was I in a car accident?"

"Yes." She punched at more buttons; each one a drumbeat in his ears. "You're a lucky man, Mr. Harrington."

This Sam knew, but he was fairly sure the attendant wasn't referring to Ali. "Oh?"

"Yes. Some cracked ribs and that nasty bump on your head are minor compared to the driver of the other car. He's in intensive care."

"And... Miguel, my driver? Is he..." Sam couldn't finish the sentence.

"Doing well. Broken leg is the worst of it. Like I say lucky. Good thing you were wearing seatbelts."

Sam went to nod in agreement but thought better of it. Even with the annoying beeping gone, his ears still rang with a high-pitched buzz and a pounding in his head joined in the orchestra of aches attacking his body.

"Sal," another voice interrupted. "Mr. Harrington has a call."

"What? He can't chat. The man needs rest."

Dressed in the same grey-blue uniform as the nurse standing beside him, a young woman came into view with a phone in her hand as she saddled up to the side of the bed. "It's his mother. She... insisted." Sam had to smile at the look on the woman's face, a fairly good idea insisted was polite for demanded.

Sam held out his hand for the phone. "Hi mom."

"Oh, thank heavens." Deep lines etched into her usually flawless face, pulling at Sam's heart. She must have been terrified at the news her only son was in a deadly car crash, one so similar to her firstborn. "Christopher, he's awake."

Sam's father wasn't faring any better, his face ashen as he crowded into the screen with his mother. "I'm on the phone with the doctor now." On the screen, he wiggled the phone in his hand. "You may have a concussion. They'll have to keep you overnight, monitor you. And you might not be able to fly home for a few days."

"Dad. Mom. I'm fine." His mother pursed her lips, apparently not quite believing him. "They're taking great care of me." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the nurses shake their heads but give a small grin. "You don't have to worry."

"I always worry." Evelyn wiped her eye; his father placed a kiss on her temple.

"Mom, I don't have my phone. Can you call Ali? Tell her-"

His mother interrupted, "She's on her way to the hospital."

A different kind of pain jabbed at his stomach; worried how upset Ali must be. "You shouldn't have. She's pitching her strategy today. I wouldn't want this to put her off her game."

"Samuel." The concern in her voice vanished, replaced with an edge he heard a lot as a child when he came home after fighting with the school bully. "If it was Ali in an accident, would you want me to not tell you?"

"No, Mom." More slow breaths. It took so much effort to draw in oxygen. "But I don't want her to worry."

His father cut in. "It's part of the deal when you love someone, boy."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, willed the fear to subside. "Well, can you call her now? Let her know not to come."

Whatever his father's response was, Sam didn't hear it. The words drowned out by a very familiar voice shouting his name.