Six-Week Marriage Miracle. Jessica Matthews

were going to stay a few days, I would, but I suspect you’re not, so I won’t. Now, stop arguing.” She tied the string at the back of his neck then guided him to the nearby bed.

      He sank gratefully onto the mattress before he rubbed his face. “Did you bring a razor?”

      “Not this trip. Count your blessings for the toothbrush I found. Would you like to sit or lie down?”

      “Sit.”

      She immediately adjusted the bed to accommodate his wishes then pulled the sheet over his good leg, leaving his injured extremity uncovered while she fluffed his pillows. “We’ll tackle the beard later. You’ve done enough for the moment.”

      He hated to admit she was right, but although his spirit was willing, his flesh was weak. He’d been functioning on adrenalin for too long. Now that he’d enjoyed a hot shower, although a much shorter one than he would have liked, he’d crash soon. With any luck, after a rejuvenating nap, his IV would have run its course and he could convince Leah to drive him home, where he’d deal with the proverbial elephant in the room.

      “Maybe,” he conceded, fighting to keep his eyes open. “But the beard has to go. It itches.”

      “We’ll get to it,” she promised, “but first things first.” She reattached his IV tubing to the port just above his wrist before he recognized his surroundings.

      Suspicion flared. Patients weren’t shown to a regular room if they were leaving the hospital in a few hours. “What am I doing here?”

      “Jeff ordered IV fluids and antibiotics. Remember?”

      “I know that,” he snapped. “Why am I here, instead of back in Emergency?”

      Jeff strolled in at that moment, carrying films and a fistful of paper. “You’re here, Gabe, because I’m admitting you for observation.”

      “I don’t need observing. I’m fi—”

      Jeff held up his hands. “Yes, you’re fine,” he said in a placating tone, “but you could be better and that’s what we’re going to do—make you better. I showed your X-rays to Smithson in Orthopedics and he agrees with me. You suffered a severe sprain to your wrist when you dislocated your shoulder. According to him, your shoulder is okay but he recommends a wrist brace for a few weeks.” He peered over his reading glass with a warning glare, “However, he still wants you to take things easy, so don’t lift anything heavier than a pen for a while.”

      Gabe took the films to see for himself. “Fair enough.”

      “As for your ribs,” Jeff continued, “they’ll get better on their own, provided you slow down and rest. But you already know that.”

      Jeff’s advice fell in line with Gabe’s plans, as he’d hoped it would.

      “My main concern,” Jeff continued, “is infection and I want to hit those bugs hard.” He glanced at the IV pole. “I see your antibiotics are running.”

      “Thanks to my ever-efficient nurses,” Gabe quipped.

      “I’m glad you agree because you’re going to be at their tender mercy for a few days.”

      His jaw squared as he shook his head. “No can do. I’m going home.”

      Jeff shook his head. “Not a good idea, buddy.”

      “Good idea or not, I’m sleeping in my own bed tonight. I can either do it with your permission or I’ll check myself out AMA.” Gabe hated to play the against-medical-advice card against a colleague, but he was home, dammit, and he wasn’t going to postpone his heart-to-heart with Leah another day. He had too much to say and he couldn’t say any of it here where walls were paper-thin and interruptions were commonplace.

      “I can’t give you my blessing to leave in a few hours.” Jeff emphasized his statement with a brisk shake of his head. “I honestly can’t.”

      “Are you keeping Theresa and Jack?” Gabe demanded.

      “No, but, unlike a certain person, they only need good food and rest to recover from their experience,” Jeff said wryly, “not high-powered antibiotics.”

      “If the IV is stopping you, I can handle it. Or Leah can do the honors. Just give her the supplies and we’ll take it from there.” Gabe heard her muffled gasp, but ignored it to fix his gaze on his doctor.

      Jeff pursed his mouth as his eyes darted between Leah and Gabe. “She could,” he finally agreed, “but you know the dangers of septicemia as well as I do. You belong here where we can monitor you.” He held up his hands to forestall his objections. “At least until the lab gives me preliminary culture results.”

      “Sorry. I’ll stay a few hours to finish this IV, but I’m going home tonight.”

      After muttering something about physicians being terrible patients, Jeff turned to Leah. “Talk some sense into him, will you?”

      She shrugged. “Sorry, but you’re on your own. If he won’t listen to you, he certainly won’t listen to me.”

      Her matter-of-fact tone surprised Gabe. Did she really believe that he didn’t value her opinion? And yet, in hindsight, he could understand how she might feel that way. After they’d lost their son and their dreams of having a child of their own, he’d wanted to do something to make things right again. When the opportunity to adopt a baby had literally fallen into his lap, he’d gone full-steam ahead over her halfhearted objections when he should have allowed Leah—and himself—more time to deal with their first loss. In the end, they’d had two losses to cope with and clearly hadn’t done well with either.

      Regardless, he’d had weeks to reflect on their relationship and if he wanted to prove to her that he was giving his marriage and her opinions top priority, then this was his opportunity.

      “I’m listening now,” he pointed out, avoiding references to the past in order to avoid a potential argument. “What do you suggest I do?”

      “Follow your doctor’s instructions,” she said bluntly. “Jeff isn’t being unreasonable.”

      No, Jeff wasn’t, but Gabe hated being tethered to a hospital bed when Leah was free to go about her business. If his mental radar was working correctly, her “business” probably involved his own physician.

      “You also,” she continued, “aren’t in a position to fend for yourself. Taking a shower completely wore you out. How will you function on your own?”

      “I’ll manage,” he said, unwilling to spring his plan on her just yet.

      Now she looked exasperated. “Fine. Do whatever you want, regardless of what your doctor or anyone else suggests. Frankly, with your attitude, I’m surprised you bothered coming to the hospital at all for medical attention.”

      Her comment struck home as he realized she was right. He had gotten to the point where he assessed a situation and made a decision without asking for advice or input, and if any was given contrary to his opinion, he didn’t follow it.

      The question was, had he always been that way? He truly didn’t think so. At one time he hadn’t been able to wait to share everything in his day with her and he hadn’t made any plans without consulting her first, but now that he thought about it, that aspect of their life had changed after they’d lost both babies. Granted, the second child hadn’t died, but when the birth mother had taken her daughter home instead of putting her in their care, it had felt the same.

      Conversation had dwindled when she’d been grieving and although he’d tried to get his feelings out in the open, he’d soon given up. Leah’s sorrow had been so overwhelming he hadn’t wanted to burden her with his own pain, so he’d bottled his emotions and carried on.

      Instead of coping together, they’d coped separately. He’d focused on his job and expanding the foundation’s services while she’d flung herself