Luca awakened feeling warm and comfortable and content, yet strangely tired and drained of energy, as if he had really been put through the proverbial ringer. Yawning, he turned his head slowly to the right on the pillow as his eyes opened, expecting to see the familiar objects that decorated his own bedroom. Instead, he experienced a jolt of surprise when he was confronted with the small intensive care unit and the medical equipment that had monitored his condition throughout the night and day. With an expression of astonishment on his youthful face, his eyes slowly made their way around the room, observing the equipment and furnishings.
The electronic line on the heart monitor continued to spike with each beat, but the sound had been turned off, apparently for the purpose of allowing him to rest. He watched it for several moments in silent fascination at the evidence of his own heartbeat, then continued his examination of the room.
Beside the bed was a chair, and in the chair, T. J. had dozed off with his chin in his hand. On T. J.'s right was the closed door leading out of the room. What lay beyond the door, he had no idea, but he could hear the muffled sounds of conversation on the other side. The voices were female, probably nurses and CNA�s. A pair of footsteps passed the door, apparently proceeding to another room.
Turning his head on the pillow to look to his left, he saw the i.v. tower which held the bag of clear saline that slowly dripped its contents through a long tube into the wrist at the base of his thumb. Other equipment that he could not identify stood unused in the corner.
Confusion puckered his brow as he struggled to remember what had happened to him. His mind was jumbled, unable to separate one event from another. He was obviously in a hospital, but he had to concentrate intently to bring the specific details into his strangely perplexed mind. We were on a call to a school, he remembered. Yes, that was it. A street gang had taken hostages. Satisfied that his normal mental functions were returning, he began to relax.
A single soft snore drew his attention away from the equipment, and he turned to his right again to observe T. J. The arm of the chair had a smooth, flat top, and his elbow was propped on that smooth surface, his body twisted and balanced so that he would not slide off. His chin was planted firmly in his hand, and his eyes were closed. Another soft snore reached his ears.
An amused smile slowly formed on Luca�s lips. He would have to remember to give his friend a hard time about his snoring later. Vaguely, he recalled seeing his partner at his beside earlier, but the memory was foggy. Reaching out a hand, he placed it on T.J.'s knee and squeezed it.
T. J.'s eyes snapped open, and he immediately jerked his head up. He saw instantly that Luca was awake and looking at him.
"Hey, Teej," Dom said in greeting. Weak and hoarse, his voice did not sound like his own. His throat was very dry and sore. He tried to clear it, but the sound was dry and raspy.
Intense relief flashed across T. J.'s face, and he leaned forward, planting his elbows on his knees. "Hey, it's good to see you awake! How are you feeling?" he inquired.
"A little tired," Luca croaked in response. "You?"
"The same."
He observed the other officer's stubbled face. "You look tired. How long have I been out?"
"You were brought in a little after noon yesterday." He glanced at his watch. "It�s five o�clock, now."
"You've been here the whole time?"
"Pretty much." He shrugged, embarrassed to admit just how worried he had been about him, but he could see the understanding in Luca�s eyes, and knew that he appreciated it.
His throat was so dry he could barely stand it. "T. J., I could really use a drink of water. My throat is as dry as the Mohave Desert."
T. J. made a lame gesture toward the door. "I'll have to ask the doctor, first. He wanted me to summon him if you woke up." He stood up and moved toward the door. "I'll be right back."
Left alone as the door slid slowly closed behind the other police officer, Luca closed his eyes to rest and tried not to think about his parched throat. He could still feel a dull pulling in his abdomen with each breath drawn, but the pain he had experienced before was mercifully absent. He slipped his hand beneath the sheet and sought out the wound. Through the fabric of the hospital gown, he could feel the stiff bandage that was held in place with adhesive tape. He knew it was a bad place to be shot. As a police officer, he had seen people die from similar wounds.
"Well, I must say, you're looking much better, and you're more alert than I would have thought,� Doctor Windom said as he came through the door, bringing Luca�s eyes open again. He was quick to notice that the doctor was carrying a jug of ice water. �Do you know where you are?"
Dom looked at him as if he was crazy, then his eyes darted around the small room for emphasis. "I think it's pretty obvious that I'm in the hospital," he replied. "Probably Valley General."
Windom smiled. "Okay, that was a stupid question, but I need to determine the extent of your cognitive responses. You'd be surprised how many people who have been unconscious don't know the answer to that! Do you remember what happened to you?"
At first, it had been difficult to separate dreams from reality, but he remembered the events at the school and the bullet that had felled him. The pain he had felt in his abdomen upon first waking was a dead giveaway that it had been very real. "I was shot by a gang member during a hostage situation at the school."
"That's right. We removed the bullet ---"
"You promised you'd keep the scar as small as possible," Luca reminded him, greatly concerned that his girlfriends would be put off by an unsightly scar.
Understanding the nature of Luca's thoughts, T. J. hid a smile behind his hand.
Windom looked surprised. "I did say that, but I wasn't sure how alert you were when I said it." He nodded. "Yes, I did my best to keep the incision small, and the resulting scar should likewise be small. Fortunately, there was not a lot of surrounding tissue damage, so it should heal just fine. It will fade over time."
"Could I have a drink?" Luca asked, changing the subject abruptly. "My throat feels like 2000 year old parchment."
Windom nodded. "All right." He poured some water from the plastic pitcher into a plastic glass with a straw in it. He bent the top of the flexible straw downward, and held the glass against the side of Luca's face, pressing the tip of the straw against Luca's lips. "Not too much," he instructed. "Just take a sip."
Luca gripped the straw between his lips, and, ignoring the doctor's instructions, drew a long mouthful of water. It felt cold and delicious. He swallowed it and gulped another, but the doctor pulled the straw away before he could take in more.
Dom felt the startling shock as the cold water hit his empty stomach, and experienced a moment of panic when he thought the water was going to shift into reverse. He had endured nearly every indignity that could be imposed upon a patient since his arrival at the hospital. He did not want the rebellion of his stomach to be included among them, especially with his partner standing nearby watching!
No, not that! he pleaded, silently, taking several deep breathes as he appealed to his stomach, which was churning like boiling lava. Not in front of T. J.! His hand moved to his abdomen again, stroking it urgently in an attempt to sooth it.
Finally, he felt the immeasurable relief that came with the realization that the water was going to stay put. He began to relax, and sighed heavily with gratitude and relief. Whew! That was close!
The doctor was watching carefully, his hand on the empty plastic container that sat on the bedside table, waiting to respond to any turn of events that might be presented. "You okay?" he asked.
He nodded. "Yeah. Thanks," he murmured to the doctor.
"We'll give you a little more later," the doctor promised, then scolded, "You almost took too much. A little more, and it would have come right back up again."
Dom gave him a shamefaced glance. "Yeah, I know. When you told me not to take too much, you should have told me why I shouldn't take too much!"
Windom laughed, amused. "I'll remember that. However, as a police officer, you must surely understand about taking orders. When I say not to drink too much, you must know that I have a profound reason for it!"
Dom smiled, sheepishly. "Okay, okay. Point taken."
"So, how do you feel?� Windom inquired. �Are you feeling any pain or discomfort?"
Dom shook his head on the pillow. "No, not really. A pulling feeling in my stomach, but not really painful. Just enough that I know it�s there."
"Good. I gave you a dose of morphine a couple of hours ago because you seemed to be in a lot of discomfort."
Dom thought about that for a moment. "Yeah, I remember a little bit. It hurt like hell, but I couldn't say anything. But about the morphine, if you don't mind, I'd rather have something else. I used to work in vice, and I've seen what morphine addiction can do to a person. It's too easy to get hooked."
The doctor smiled. "All right. We have plenty of options for pain relief, but you will be needing something for a few days. There�s no need to struggle with the pain when we have the means to manage it."
"Doc, am I ---" He hesitated, almost afraid to ask the question. "Am I gonna make it?"
Windom nodded. "Yes. Barring any catastrophic infections or sudden, massive hemorrhaging, I'd say you're going to be just fine."
"Is that likely?" he asked. "The infections or the hemorrhaging?"
"No, it isn't likely, so don't worry about it. Considering what you've been through, you're making a remarkable recovery. We've seen tremendous improvement in the past eight hours. Depending on how well you continue to progress, we'll probably move you into a regular room tomorrow or the next day. I'll leave you to rest, for now. If you need anything, just summon the nurses." He moved toward the door, and departed.
Left alone again, the two officers fell silent for several moments, then Dom became very serious. "It was close, wasn't it?"
T. J. hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, it was close. You had us pretty worried there for a while."
"Is everyone else okay?" he asked.
T. J. nodded. "Yeah. Everyone's fine. They arrested the gang members without incident. Except for Michael, the leader, I think they were all glad when it was over. None of the students were hurt. The boy who was singled out for execution is fine, too. A bit traumatized, but he should get over it with some therapy."
Dom closed his eyes, briefly, grateful that no one else had been hurt. "Good. I'm glad."
"His mother brought by some flowers for you. They're holding them at the nurses' station until you're a little bit better." T. J. watched him for a moment, and shoved his hands in his pockets, then changed his mind and withdrew them again to gesture toward the door. "Well, I probably better leave you alone to get some rest."
"Maybe you should go home and do the same," Dom suggested.
T. J. hesitated, reluctant to leave, but he knew that Dom was right. He really did need to get some rest, or he was going to end up collapsing on the floor. Finally, he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I guess you're right. You call me if you need anything, all right? Anything at all."
"I will."
T. J. moved toward the door, but was stopped by Dom's voice. "Teej?"
He turned to face him again, a questioning expression on his face. "Yeah, Dom?"
"Thanks. For everything."
T. J. smiled and nodded. "Sure, Dom. Just don't make a habit out of getting shot, okay?"
"That's a deal!"
T. J. pulled open the door, and then was gone.
Dom relaxed on the bed, and closed his eyes to rest awhile before Mama and Isabelle arrived. If he looked as tired as he felt, he worried that his appearance to frighten them. And he knew he could expect a good tongue-lashing for forgetting his vest.
His eyes suddenly popped open, trying to remember who had told him that Isabella was coming, too. T. J. had just said his mom was coming; he had made no mention about his sister. Then it came to him with a sensation of wonder and surprise. He had dreamed about his father, and in the dream, Pop had told him about Isabella coming back with their mother. His eyes gazed at the ceiling, thinking about the very real qualities of that dream. He would never know for certain if it was a dream or if it was something else, but he would always prefer to think of it as a very special gift, a gift for which he would always be grateful.
Her gentle caress was whisper soft against his cheek, drawing him out of the haze of slumber, but there was no mistaking the touch; he easily sensed that the soothing presence was that of his mother. His eyelids fluttered and opened, and he turned his head to look at the two women who stood at his bedside, gazing anxiously at him with love and worry. He was not surprised to see his oldest sister, Isabella, standing beside their mother.
They both saw recognition in his eyes, and a slight smile formed on his lips, but his eyelids remained heavy with fatigue. "Hi, Mama," he said, his voice weak.
"I didn't mean to wake you up," she apologized, attempting to blink away the tears that were filling her eyes.
"No, its okay," he assured her. "I was only dozing." He reached down and pulled the sheet higher, as if trying to hide the evidence of the heavily bandaged wound that he could feel beneath his hospital gown. "T. J. told me you were coming. How long have you been here?"
"We just arrived and came straight from the airport. One of your friends �� She paused, glancing at her daughter for help.
�Officer Street,� Isabella added when her mother failed to remember the name.
�He took our luggage to the house for us. We would have been here sooner, but we had trouble getting a flight out of Passaic. How are you feeling?" she asked with a trembling smile as she brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead with a tidying stroke of her fingers, then trailed her hand down his face to cup his cheek in her palm. "You look so tired! Are you in pain? Can I get you anything?"
"I feel fine, Mama," he assured her, lifting one hand to grasp hers, and he pressed the back of her hand against his lips, the closest thing to a kiss that he had the strength to muster. "A little tired, though. They gave me some medicine to control the pain, and it's made me a bit drowsy. I can't seem to stay awake."
"Oh, Dominic!" Succumbing to her emotion, she covered her face with her hands, and began to weep.
"No, Mama, please don't cry," Dom begged, helplessly. A painful lump was forming in his throat, and he glanced quickly at his oldest sister, seeking help. "Mama, please."
Isabella placed her arms around her mother. "Mama, it's okay. Remember what the doctor said? He's going to be just fine."
Faced with the possibility of making her injured son cry too, something that would likely cause him pain, she forced back the tears, rubbing them away with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry. I just can't help it. I don't know what I would do if I lost you, Dominic."
"I'm going to be fine," he assured her as he reached out to grasp her hand in his. �I�d offer you a tissue, but I can�t reach them. They put my things on the table, and then push it out of the way and forgot to move it back.�
She reached for the box of tissue and withdrew one, dabbing her eyes with it. As her sobs subsided, his eyes shifted again to his oldest sister.
"Hey, big sis. Did you have a good flight?"
"Hey, little brother," she responded, very gently rubbing her hand on his shoulder, as if fearful of causing him pain if she touched him carelessly. "It was a terrible flight, if you must know the truth. It was a long flight, and we worried about you the whole time. The first time ever that the whole family is out of town at the same time, and you have to go and get yourself into trouble. What are we going to do with you?"
"Love me, I guess," he replied with a feeble smile.
"We contacted the others," she added. "They'll be here as soon as they can. We haven't been able to get in touch with Angelina, yet. She and her family are on vacation in England. Rick's trying to find out which hotel they're at."
"There's no need for her to cut her vacation short," he objected, but he was too weak to inject much force behind his objection. "I spoke with the doctor earlier, and he says I'm going to be fine. Let them to enjoy their trip. I insist."
"She'll be furious if we don't let her know what�s going on. You know how uptight she gets if she thinks we�re withholding things from her."
"Then tell her what's happened, but stress that there�s no need for her to come back," he repeated. "They scrimped and saved for a long time to be able to take this trip. I'll see them when they get back."
Her lip trembled as she observed his sincere face. Impulsively, she bent and kissed his forehead. "You're pretty special, you know that?" she asked. "Father Manucci told us what you did to save the life of that boy. We're so proud of you, Dominic. You're a hero."
"No, I�m not a hero, Sis. I didn't do anything that the other guys wouldn't have done," he told her.
"Well, I don't know about them, but to me, you're a hero."
He managed a faint smile, but he was growing extremely weary, and his eyelids were growing heavier by the moment. "I'm likely to just drift off to sleep at any moment, so if that happens, don't think I�m being deliberately rude. It's just the medicine."
"Don't you worry yourself about that," Mariana assured him. "You just rest. We'll be here when you wake up."
He glanced toward the bedside table where the glass of water was placed tantalizingly near, but just out of reach. "Would one of you fetch that glass of water for me? It's hard for me to reach that far."
"Sure." Isabella picked up the glass, and held it close enough to his face that he could take a couple of sips through the straw.
He settled back again, satisfied. "Thanks."
She replaced the glass on the bedside table. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
"Yeah; one of Mama's famous spaghetti dinners with lots of Italian meatballs and garlic bread." He smiled and expelled a contented sigh as he envisioned his mother's wonderful cooking served on a huge steaming platter. "Oh, that sounds so good. I can almost smell it. They won't let me have anything to eat."
"Mama and I will get to work on it just as soon as you get out of here," Isabella promised. "The biggest, tastiest spaghetti dinner you've ever had! And a mountain of toasty garlic bread, just for you."
"Can't wait . . ." he murmured. His voice trailed off, and his eyes closed. Within moments, his deep, even breathing indicated that he had drifted off to sleep again.
Isabella gazing lovingly at her youngest brother's handsome face, then turned to her mother. "He's going to be all right, Mama," she said. "He's going to be just fine."
Mariana nodded, too overwhelmed with emotion to speak.
He was uncertain of the amount of time that had passed when he was awakened by the sound of voices speaking nearby. The voices, spoken quietly but with a tense edge, penetrated Dom's drug-fogged mind, rousing him from his slumber. He recognized both of them; the rather commanding, authoritative voice of his mother, and the calmer, reasoned voice of his sister, and as the words began to take form and make sense to his sleepy brain, he understood that the conversation revolved around him and his career decision, a decision he knew he would have to defend.
�He wants to make a difference, and he is,� Isabella was saying. �That boy is alive right now because of Dom.�
"I am glad he saved the life of that boy, and I am proud of him for doing so,� Mariana replied, her voice sharply clipped with annoyance, �but it nearly cost my son his own life, and it would have been better if he had never joined the police force. First, I had to suffer through his tour of duty in Viet Nam, and now this. It has been my nightmare ever since he enrolled at the academy that something like this would happen."
He heard the soft rustle of clothing as Isabella moved toward the window and paused there. Her sigh of frustration was heavy in the stillness of the room. �It is an honorable profession, Mama. I worry about him too, but he is a grown man and this is the career he has chosen. What right do we have to pressure him into doing something else?�
"He is young," he heard his mother continue as if she had not heard her daughter�s argument, and he felt her hand as it rubbed lovingly up and down his arm, aware for the first time that she was also holding his hand. "He will do all right in whatever career he chooses."
Dom had no intention of choosing another career, and he knew he was going to have to join this conversation to put the matter to rest. It was a struggle, for he was still terribly groggy, but he managed to open his eyes very slightly. Through the narrow slits, he saw his mother first, seated in the chair beside the bed, but she had turned toward Isabella, clearly expecting her daughter to back her up. A yawn was building, but he suppressed it.
Shifting his attention, he saw Isabella standing at the window, her arms folded as she gazed out across the city. She looked very uncomfortable with the discussion, and Dom suspected that his mother�s persistence was getting difficult to deny. Mariana Luca was very persuasive, and he had been on the receiving end of her determined urging many times, particularly due to the fact that he had not yet married. He sympathized with his sister, who was still doggedly holding out. "I understand what you�re saying, Mama, and I agree with you to a point, but Dom will have to make his own decision whether or not he wants to remain with the force. It isn�t up to us."
�We are his family,� Mariana insisted. �It is up to us to make him see how dangerous this profession is that he has chosen, and that it would be wise to seek another.�
She turned back toward the bed and unfolded her arms to sweep one hand toward the bed. �I�m sure he�s perfectly aware of how dangerous it is.�
At that moment, unable to suppress it any longer, he yawned widely, attracting Isabella�s attention.
�Dom, I hope we didn�t wake you,� she said, a guilty expression on her face.
Mariana turned quickly to verify that her son was awake and saw that his groggy, slightly unfocused eyes were observing them with disapproval. She placed her hand on his forehead to smooth back the hair that fell softly there. �I�m sorry if we woke you, Dominic.�
�Mama, would you please stop arguing about this, eh?�
�You go back to sleep,� she crooned, soothingly. �We will discuss this when you�re feeling better.�
�No, Mama. There�s no need to discuss it any further. We�ve already been through all then back when I first joined the Academy."
�And you wouldn�t listen to reason then, either,� she retorted. �You are stubborn, like your father.�
A soft, knowing smile turned up the corners of his lips, but he did not reveal its true source. �I believe Pop would approve of what I�m doing.�
�Your father would have been proud of you, no matter what you chose to do with your life. You frightened me, Dominic. You frightened me terribly. I don�t know what I would do if something happened to you.�
His dark eyes settled on the woman he loved as no other, the woman who had given him life, and he wished he could alleviate her fears, but knew that he couldn't. "Mama, I know you just want what's best for me, but Isabella�s right. I made my career decision, and even now, I have no regrets. I was shot because I made the bad decision to remove my vest. That won't happen again, I promise, but . . ."
Tears welled in her eyes. "But you'll be going back to the force, won't you?"
"Yes. As soon as they'll let me."
"And what if you are killed? What about those you will leave behind?"
�Mama, chances are, I�ll never be hit again.�
"And if you are?"
�Then I will have died doing what I was trained to do,� he told her, knowing that his words would not calm her fears, but they vividly expressed his determination to remain on the job. �Mama, I like what I do, and I give you my word that I will be careful, but that�s the best I can do.�
Mariana turned to her daughter, hoping to enlist her help in the continuing discussion with her son. "Isabella, you must help me make him see ---"
"I'm sorry, Mama, I can't," she said. "I just can't. I've been listening to everything you've said, and I agree with you in principle, but Dom knows his own mind. He's a grown man, and the choice is his to make. We can't make it for him."
"Isabella!" Mariana protested, shocked at her daughter's refusal to back her up. "How can you not see the wisdom in convincing him to seek another profession?"
"Mama, please," Dom said, grasping his mother's hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it. "Mama, you know I love you more than anything in this world, and I would never do anything to deliberately hurt you, but Isabella's right. This is my decision."
"But Dominic �"
"Mama, I can appreciate your feelings about this, and I'm sorry for everything I've put you through, but I love my job. I know you'll never understand why I chose to become a police officer, but if I had it to do all over again, I would do it exactly the same way." He paused briefly, then added, "Well, I'd remember to put the vest back on before engaging the bad guys, but everything else the same way." He was smiling, his eyes brighter and more alert than she had seen them since arriving.
She lowered her gaze to the sheets, conceding defeat. "Then I'll go on worrying about you," she said, soberly.
"Mama, no," he insisted. "You don't need to worry about me. I've learned the value of our bullet-proof vests." He shrugged. "I had to learn the hard way, but it's a lesson I won't forget." He had chosen long ago not to reveal to her the other times that the bullet-proof vest he wore had prevented serious injury or even death, and he would not tell her now. Better that she think this was an isolated incident, one that was not likely to repeat. He placed his finger under her chin to lift her face so that he could see her eyes. "Mama, we take every precaution. We don't risk our lives recklessly."
The door opened again, diverting their attention.
Doctor Windom stepped inside, and smiled when he saw them. "You must be the Luca family," he said as the door slid closed behind him.
"Mama, this is Doctor Windom. Doc, this is my mother, Mariana Luca, and my much older sister, Isabella Bonetti."
In reaction to the emphasis he had placed on the much older sister, she started to whack his shoulder, as she had done when they were younger, then remember that he was hurt, and resisted the urge. "Obviously, he's feeling much better, now," she commented.
Windom nodded his agreement. "He's looking better," he agreed. "Better than I've ever seen him look, in fact," he said. Directing his question to the officer, he asked, "Are you feeling any pain or discomfort?"
"No, but I'm having trouble staying awake," he replied. "I'll feel reasonably awake for a short time, and then I can't hold my eyes open any longer."
"That's normal. We gave you a sedative to make sure you rest. We don't want you moving around too much and breaking open that incision. We'll ease back on them tomorrow." He glanced at the two women. "Would you mind stepping outside for awhile while I examine him?"
"Why don't you two go down to the cafeteria and get a bite to eat?" Dom suggested. "They won't let me eat anything yet, but there's no reason why you can't partake in nutritional sustenance."
Windom smiled, amused by his patient's sense of humor. "If you're hungry, I think we can arrange to send up some soup later this evening." He turned to the women. "However, that might be a good idea if you two went down to the cafeteria. I'm sure it's been a long trip for you."
"Yes, it has," Isabella agreed. "Very well. We'll be back in," she paused to glance at her watch on her wrist, "Oh, say forty-five minutes or an hour?"
"I'll just wait here," her brother promised, then added with a wry smile, "It's not like I can get up and walk outta here, eh?"
"All right," Isabella consented, then pointed a finger in his face. "You mind your manners, little brother, you hear?"
"Yes, ma'am," he quipped.
Mariana leaned over to kiss her son, then she and Isabella left the room, allowing privacy for the physician to examine the injured officer.
Go to Chapter Twelve