Later that day, hours after his mother and sister had gone home, promising to return that evening, Dom relaxed quietly on his bed, alternately dozing and staring at the ceiling, wishing for something to do. There were no televisions or even radios in ICU, for most patients housed in these units were too critically sick or injured to concern themselves with such things. For Luca, that made for a long day. The lasagna lunch had been delicious, but supper would not be delivered for awhile, yet. He had that to look forward to.
With a yawn, he attempted to turn over onto his side, as the nurses had instructed him to do, but this task was very difficult. The effort pulled at his incision, and his rear end seemed to be Velcroed to the bed. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn�t move. With a sigh, he settled back on his back and turned his head on the pillow to look toward the window, but all he could see was blue sky beyond the glass pane.
T. J. had not come back to visit since leaving the evening before, and Luca suspected he had gotten a good night�s sleep and then returned to active duty this morning. He was probably in the E.C. Room right now, working on the endless flow of paperwork that came across their desks or on the telephone.
His eyes darted quickly to the bedside table, seeking a telephone. He could at least call his friends at the station and give them a hard time for not visiting. He knew that only family was typically permitted inside the ICU ward, but it wouldn�t stop him from chiding them about their lack of attention. Unfortunately, there did not seem to be a telephone in the room. Again, he realized that was due to the severity of the patients� conditions in this ward, another reason to be eager for the transfer to another floor.
The door opened, and Doctor Windom stepped inside, examining a set of medical records. "Well, Officer Luca, your blood test looks good. No infections, all organs are functioning normally. There is no reason why you should remain in intensive care, so if you�re ready, we'll get you moved out of here in a little while."
"I'm ready right now!" he stated, emphatically, eager to be gone before Nurse McGuire came back on shift. �There�s no television in here, I have no magazines to read, and I�m bored out of my gourd!�
Windom chuckled. �You should have said something; I�m sure we could have arranged for some magazines.� Lifting his eyes from the paperwork, he looked at the young SWAT officer, noticing the brightness in his eyes. No one would have guessed how close to death he had come only 32 hours earlier.
Luca lifted his eyebrows slightly in good-natured amusement. �I�d rather have the TV.�
"All right. I'll order you a room, and then summon some orderlies to help get you moved."
�I�m supposed to be getting a private room,� he said.
�Yes, I see where your comrades have gotten together to pay the difference. That was a nice thing to do.�
�Any idea how long it might be?�
�Patients are constantly being moved around with new patients coming in, healthy patients being discharged, so it�ll just depend on when one becomes available. Don�t worry, though. It�ll be sometime today.� Then, with a smile at Luca�s relieved expression, Doctor Windom made a few notations on the chart, and left through the door.
Impatiently, Luca�s fingers drummed on the metal bars as he waited. Now that his transfer was at hand, the minutes dragged by with impossible slowness.
Finally, after more than an hour, Windom returned with two large orderlies who pushed a gurney into the room, and positioned it next to the bed. As a skilled surgeon, Windom did not normally escort his patients from one room to another, but the brave young officer had placed himself in the line of fire to rescue a boy marked for death by a vicious gang member, so the physician had decided early on that courage and dedication of that nature deserved some special recognition. Rather than spending it over a cup of coffee in the staff room, he was using his personal break to accompany the officer to his new room on the pretext of checking his vital signs once he arrived.
As the orderlies lowered the bed�s side rails in preparation for the transfer, Dom started to rise up on his elbows, but Windom pressed his hands against the officer's shoulders, forcing him back down. "Just lie still, and let the orderlies do the work," the physician advised.
"Okay." Dom grimaced, expecting that the transfer from the bed to the gurney would at the very least cause some painful discomfort.
Working with great experience, having moved many patients in their tenure at the hospital, the two orderlies grasped the edges of the sheets and quickly and efficiently transferred the wounded officer onto the gurney, and covered him again with a sheet. The i.v. tower was moved closer to the gurney so that it could be transported as well.
"You guys are good at this," Luca said, approvingly, looking up at them from the gurney. "I hardly felt any discomfort at all."
"We're paid to be good," said one of the young men. "Just lie back and enjoy the ride, Officer. Usually, we just move the whole bed, but this bed is designed specifically for ICU, so you�ll be getting a different one.�
He folded one arm behind his head to make up for the thinness of the pillow, and was wheeled out the door and past the nurses' station. All of them smiled and bid him goodbye, but then one called, "Oh! Don't forget your flowers!"
Dom turned his head toward her, reminded that T. J. had mentioned flowers the day before. "Flowers?"
"Yes. They arrived yesterday morning, but they weren't allowed in the ICU room, so we kept them here for you." She grabbed the large arrangement from the countertop, and approached the gurney, reading aloud from the card that was held in place by a long clear spike. "It's from a Mrs. Gwen Davis, and she says 'Thank you for saving my son. Best wishes for a speedy recovery'."
"That was nice of her," he said.
"It was nice of you to save her son, like that," she said, beaming down at him with a sunny smile of admiration. "You must be very brave to put yourself in danger like that!"
He shrugged with feigned modesty. "Well, it was just part of my job."
"I'll take those," Windom said, accepting the arrangement. Normally, he would not have considered the carrying of flowers to be part of his job, but there was something special about the young officer. "Let's go."
The gurney began to move again. Only one orderly was needed to push the transport to its new location, so the other stayed behind to attend to other tasks.
Luca was wheeled out the ICU doors, and down the corridor. They passed a middle aged couple, who moved closer to the wall to allow them room to pass, but Luca noticed that they were looking directly at him. He had little time to wonder about it, though, for the gurney turned a corner and came to a stop at the patients� elevator, and the orderly pressed the �up� button on the wall.
While they waited, another orderly and a nurse approached with a patient on a rolling bed, and Luca was aware that they were stealing quick glances at him, trying not to be too obvious about it. Even the patient had turned her head on her pillow and was looking at him with unabashed curiosity.
What are they looking at? The question repeated unanswered in his mind. The other patient seemed hardly different than himself, so there couldn�t be something unique about him. Dismissing the stares, he watched the illuminated numbers light up as the elevator cars moved up and down from one floor to another, and finally they heard a �ding�, and the doors behind them slid open.
�Why is it always the one on the other side?� the orderly complained good-naturedly. So, instead of pulling the gurney through the nearest set of doors, he pushed it into the elevator across the hall.
The gurney wheels bucked slightly as they rolled across the space between the corridor and the elevator floor, causing Luca to grimace slightly as the jolt found its way to his injury.
�Sorry �bout that,� the orderly said. �There�s no easy way to get over that crack.�
Windom followed them into the elevator, then the doors slid shut and it began to move upward.
Luca sighed, contentedly. It was nice being out of the room, even if it was just for a short while traveling in an elevator. It broke the monotony. His eyes fell upon the vase of flowers in Windom�s hand, and the card that was attached to a clear plastic spike. He would have to acknowledge the woman�s kindness.
A moment later, the elevator stopped and the doors swung open. As carefully as he could, the orderly wheeled the gurney off the elevator, and they started down the corridor again. As they turned a corner, they passed three people, obviously there to visit other patients, and quickly noticed that they were looking at him. As they moved past and continued down the corridor, he heard them whispering to each other.
�Has my face turned purple or something?� Luca asked as they moved past the crowd of people. �Everyone is staring at me.�
Windom smiled. �They probably recognized you from your picture in the paper. There was a write-up yesterday about how you saved that boy.�
Luca perked up, interested. �Really? No one told me about that. Was it a good article?�
�An excellent article,� Windom replied. �They interviewed some of your co-workers, the teachers, the principal, and the boy�s mother. She thinks you�re quite the hero.�
�Really?� Luca asked eagerly, then tried not to sound so excited when he added, �I ask because the only publicity we tend to get is the negative stuff; you know, the big bad bullies in SWAT smoked some poor guy out of his home by force. I mean, never mind that he had freaked out on drugs and was holding his wife and kids hostage with a bazooka.�
�Does that happen often?� the orderly asked, intrigued.
�You�d be surprised! Some reporters are positively venomous when they write about us. It�s good to have a few nice things said about us for a change. I don�t suppose someone can get me a copy of the paper, could they?�
�I�ll see if I can find you one,� Windom promised as they moved past the nurse�s station.
The nurses looked up from their work as he passed, and several actually stood up to see over the countertop. A few of them were very pretty, Luca noticed, hoping that one of them would be assigned to him.
�Isn�t that the police officer who saved those kids at the high school?� he heard one of them ask.
�I didn�t know he was going to be assigned to our floor!�
Windom grinned, amused. �You�ll have to excuse their excitement. They�re not used to having a celebrity on their floor.�
�Celebrity?� Luca asked. �Me?�
Enjoy it while you can, a voice spoke inside his head. It�ll be over before you know it!
He fell silent, watching the overhead lights and the doors to the rooms go past, and experienced a vague memory of his arrival in the emergency room, when they had wheeled him at a rapid pace through the corridors. It had been a dizzying ride that day, but this time the pace was much less frenzied, almost leisurely. He had no memory at all of being wheeled into the intensive care unit following the surgery to remove the bullet.
The gurney turned a corner, and they proceeded down an adjoining corridor, leaving the nurse�s station behind. Just before reaching the window at the far end of the hallway, the orderly pulled up and guided the gurney into the room that would be his until he was discharged.
Two nurse�s aides were waiting in the room, preparing the bed for his arrival, and they stood back as the gurney was wheeled up to the edge of the bed. Moving to the other side, they assisted the orderly in pulling him into his new bed and getting him and his i.v. adjusted. There were two plump pillows under his head, and a television attached to a holder near the ceiling, bringing a smile to his handsome face. He was going to like it here much better!
Doctor Windom placed the vase of flowers on the window sill where he could easily view it, then withdrew his stethoscope from around his neck and leaned over to listen to Luca�s heart and respiration. �Sounds good,� he announced, stepping back. �We�ll probably keep you here a couple more days, then I think we�ll be able to release you. Is there someone who will be staying with you for a few weeks?�
The smile faded. He had not considered that he would need a baby sitter. �Well, I hadn�t really thought about that. I guess I can stay at Mama�s house for a while.�
Windom nodded his approval. �That sounds like a good idea.� He turned his wrist over to look at his watch. His break was almost over. �I need to get back downstairs. Is there anything you need before I leave?�
"Yeah, if you wouldn�t mind, could you have someone get Mrs. Davis's phone number? I'd like to call her to thank her for the flowers."
Windom�s smile faltered slightly, again experiencing that strong sense of admiration and respect for the police officer. There was much more to this young man than met the eye. "Why, yes. I think we can do that. Anything else?"
Luca�s eyes swept over the two women near the foot of his bed, one tucking in the light blanket and the other placing extra pillows in a nearby chair. �Nope, I�m good. Don�t forget the newspaper, though!�
With a nod of acknowledgement to the aides, Doctor Windom left the room.
�If you need anything, just press the call button,� one of the aides told him.
He smiled his most charming smile at the petite young woman. �I�ll remember that. Thank you.�
The new nurse�s aides left the room, and Luca pressed the buttons that adjusted the bed to a more comfortable position, elevating his upper body so that he was almost in a seated position. A jug of water with crushed ice sat beside the bed, so he poured a glass. It was deliciously cold. Next, he reached for the remote and flipped on the television set, settling back to watch an afternoon game show.
An hour later, a nurse�s aide came with a folded newspaper. "Doctor Windom asked me to bring this to you," she said. She withdrew a slip of paper from her pocket. �He asked me to give you this, too.�
He reached for it. It was the telephone he had requested. �Thanks. I really appreciate this.�
She placed the telephone on the bedside table, and wheeled it closer to the bed, placing it within easy reach.
As soon as she had left the room, he picked up the newspaper and opened it up. The headline jumped out at him: SWAT Officer Saves Student's Life. Below the headline was a photograph of himself in uniform, that had obviously been supplied by the police department. The caption below it read: Officer Dominic Luca remains in critical condition. In the body of the article was a photograph taken of the youth whose life Luca had saved with his well-placed shot, and another photograph of the gang members being led away in handcuffs. Curiously, he read the article, the supportive words spoken of him by his comrades, and the tearful words of praise from Mrs. Gwen Davis, the mother of the boy who had been singled out by the gang members.
When he finished reading the article, he folded it up again and placed it on the bedside table, not knowing whether he should feel embarrassed by the attention or pleased by it. After all, he had not gone into the situation that day seeking to hog all the glory. He had reacted at a moment�s notice to an escalating situation; any one of his comrades would have done the same. Well, he though with a twinge of heat in his cheeks, they would not have forgotten their vest. And neither will I, next time!
The slip of paper beside his glass of water caught his attention again, and he picked it up to look at it. Then, he reached for the phone and dialed the number. When a woman�s voice answered, he asked, "Is this Mrs. Gwen Davis?"
"Yes, it is," Gwen replied, puzzled by the man�s voice on the other end of the line. She sounded rushed, and Luca suspected that she had just gotten home from work, and starting supper for her family. "Who is this?"
"My name is Dominic Luca. I'm a police officer with Olym---"
"Luca?� Recognition sprang to her voice, which instantly sounded less guarded. �You're the officer who saved my Brett's life!" she exclaimed.
"Well . . ."
"Don�t be modest, Officer Luca. You did a wonderful thing. I wanted to visit you yesterday morning, but they said you were still in intensive care, and they wouldn't let me in. You're getting better, then?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'll be stuck in here a few more days, but I'm expected to recover fully."
"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that. I've been praying for you."
"Thank you. I'm sure it helped. I just wanted to call to thank you for the flowers. That was very thoughtful of you, and I appreciate it."
"Well, I appreciate what you did. Brett is my only child. I don't know what I would have done if I had lost him."
"I'm glad I could help, ma'am. Well, I'd better let you get back to what you were doing."
"Thank you for calling, Officer Luca. Goodbye."
"Bye." He hung up the phone and pushed the bedside table away from the bed, then relaxed onto his pillow again. "You're right, Pop," he said aloud to the memory of his father. "It feels good to make a difference."
The day passed pleasantly. Even the soap operas and game shows were more enjoyable than spending the afternoon staring at the ceiling in the ICU. Mama and Angelina dropped by for a few hours, relaying well-wishes from his siblings and their families. They remained with him when supper arrived, and Mama encouraged him to eat his meal, even though it was far less appetizing than the lasagna he�d had for lunch. Finally, he pushed it away and went straight for the peach cobbler and the chocolate chip cookie.
They left as Visiting Hours were drawing to a close, promising to return the next day. But they had only been gone a few minutes when he heard a tentative knock on his door.
�Miss me already?� he called, thinking his mother and sister had returned.
The door opened, and T. J. McCabe poked his head inside. "Dom? Are you decent? I've got Susan with me."
"Hey, Teej," came the immediate response. "As decent as I can get in this nighty thing, but I'll keep the covers pulled up. Come on in."
Together, T. J. and Susan stepped into the room.
�We can only stay a few minutes,� T. J. apologized. �We went first to the ICU, thinking you�d still be there, but they told us you�d been moved up here. We were just stepping off the elevator when they announced that visiting hours would be over in ten minutes.� He didn�t mention that seeing the cleared room with the empty bed had scared him.
Dom's smile was bright as he looked at Susan, who slipped her long blonde hair back behind her shoulders. "Just what I needed to see � a pretty face. I'm afraid I haven't seen many of those in here!"
"Well, that would be a first!" she quipped. She stepped to the bedside and bent over to exchange pecks on the cheek with her fianc�s partner. "You're looking good," she said, rising up again and rubbing the lipstick from his cheek with friendly affection.
"I feel good. What have you got there?" he asked, spying the tapes that were clutched in her other hand.
"Just some tapes," she replied, showing them to him. �T. J. said they�re some of your favorites, so we thought maybe you�d enjoy listening to them while you�re stuck in here.�
�I�d love to, but I�m afraid I don�t have anything with me to play them in.�
�Oh,� T. J. said, as if surprised to find that he was still carrying a portable tape recorder under his arm. He removed it and placed it on the bedside table.
"Well, we thought you might be getting pretty bored without a television -�" He glanced at the television that was suspended from a platform attached to the wall. "�However, I see that has been rectified. Anyway, we thought you might want to listen to some music, so Susan and I got you a tape recorder and some tapes."
Dom browsed through the selection of tapes, his expression delighted. "Thanks! I really appreciate that." He snatched one from the stack. "Hey, I was going to pick this one up, but never got around to it!"
T. J. and Susan exchanged smiles, pleased that their gift had been well-received.
"So," Susan said. "How long will they keep you cooped up in here?"
"Probably another two or three days," he replied, tearing the cellophane wrapping from one of the tapes. "Just a precaution, but man! I'm ready to go home right now." He paused to look around for a waste basket to put the cellophane in. T. J. took if from him and dropped it in the basket.
"You're not going back to your apartment alone, are you?" she asked, concerned.
"No. They said I need someone to help take care of me for awhile, so I'll be moving in with Mama for a few weeks.� He rolled his eyes. �Doctor Windom won�t release me unless I have someone to baby sit, and you know Mama. She insists. I just hope she doesn't start in on me again about finding me a wife. She's relentless on the subject."
"Well, if it gets too bad, you can move in with me for awhile," T. J. offered.
"Thanks, Teej, but I couldn't stand the snoring," Dom replied casually, slipping the tape in his new tape recorder as a smile played around the corners of his mouth.
T. J.'s expression was shocked as he stared at his partner. "I don�t either snore!" he protested.
"No more than a buzz saw," Dom replied, pressing the "play" button. After adjusting the volume, he placed it on the bedside table and turned to Susan to explain. "He fell asleep in here yesterday morning, and was so loud it woke me up from my state of unconsciousness!"
"You lie!" T. J. exclaimed. Turning to Susan, he asked, "Will you listen to this guy? He was already coming out of it when I fell asleep, but I do not snore!"
Dom gestured toward T. J.'s fianc�e, who had thus far managed to remain neutral. "Susan can tell ya! Right Susan? Doesn't he saw logs like a lumberjack?"
She glanced helplessly from one man to the other, reluctant to take sides. "Well, I . . ."
"Tell the truth," Dom urged. "Come on!"
"Well, maybe a little," she confessed.
"See?" Dom said, triumphantly.
T. J. stared at Susan in disbelief. "Do I, really?"
"Well, not very often, but sometimes you do," she said, then sought to gloss it over. "Just a couple of funny snorts, not really what you would call snoring, actually."
Dom burst out laughing as his partner's face turned bright red. "You two are in this together, aren't you?" T. J. asked.
Still laughing, Dom offered the tape recorder to Susan. "Maybe you should take this to prove it to him!"
"What is this? Pick on T. J. day?" the curly haired officer asked, but an embarrassed smile had formed on his lips, indicating that he was not offended by the bantering. He glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. "Well, I'd better get going before someone comes in here to round us up. And I need to take Susan to the airport. She's going to Portland for a magazine spread. I'll be by to see you again tomorrow."
"Okay. Thanks again, you two," Dom called as they passed through the door.
T. J. pushed the door open again and leaned back inside. "I do not either snore!"
Dom and T. J. grinned at one another, then the door closed quietly behind the sharpshooter as he followed his fianc�e back to the bank of elevators. Dom settled back on his pillow and cranked up the volume on his tape recorder until a nurse came in to scold him.
Go to Chapter Fourteen