“You were listed on her admissions paperwork.”
“She had time to fill out paperwork?”
“From last time,” the nurse corrected.
“Last time?”
“Mmm. A previous admission.”
“And she listed me as her emergency contact then, not now?” This was making marginally more sense. If she’d been admitted some time shortly after they’d met, perhaps he’d been all she could think of.
She’d only been in London a short while before he’d met her. She hadn’t known many people, she’d said, as they’d walked to her apartment.
“Must have done.”
He turned his attention back to Elodie and something clutched in his chest. He hated hospitals with a passion. He’d spent too much time in them. Too much time seeing people he cared for being crushed by life.
“So she didn’t ask for me now?”
“She wasn’t in a state to ask for anyone, love.”
Love? Christo. When had anyone called him such a thing?
His eyes flashed with his searing sense of frustration. This nurse was moving so slowly, acting as though nothing was the matter. His nostrils flared as he exhaled a harsh, disapproving breath.
“I want that neurologist immediately.”
“She’s on her way.”
Dr Hassan entered the room a moment later, a clipboard in her hands. She walked quickly, efficiently, urgently, and Fiero appreciated that. This was an urgent situation.
She spoke in clipped tones. “Swelling in the brain is going down nicely, though it’s going to be days before we can do a proper assessment.”
Nausea ran through Fiero. Elodie had been sharp as a whip that night, and so funny. Any kind of brain injury was terrible and traumatic but somehow the idea of it affecting Elodie was so much worse.
“In your experience, though? How does it look?” His voice was surprisingly gravelled.
“I can’t comment.”
“I’m not going to hold you to it, Doctor. I’m simply asking for an insight into what you’ve seen before and your best guess.”
Doctor Hassan shifted her gaze to Fiero’s. “I don’t deal in guesswork, Mr Montebello. I will tell you it’s not the worst brain injury I’ve seen, and that I’d be optimistic for a full and meaningful recovery. But naturally there can be unforeseen complications. It’s a long road ahead, with no guarantees.”
“But you think, at this stage, Elodie’s condition is likely to improve?”
“We’ll see.” She put a slide into a backlit screen and ran her eyes over it. Fiero did the same, though very little of the shapes made any kind of sense to him.
The doctor flicked the light off and turned to Fiero. “She’s had two MRIs since she came in –,”
“What?” Fiero whirled around to face the nurse. “When did she arrive?”
“Early this morning,” Doctor Hassan answered his question, and moved past it. “We will do another scan tonight, and continue to monitor her. In terms of her other physical injuries, these appear mostly superficial. Bones that will heal easily enough. Cracked ribs, which will cause immense pain for a time but they too shall heal.”
It was cruel to see such a beautiful and vibrant woman so completely shut down, so broken. His gut twisted.
“What can I do?”
“Not a lot, I’m sorry.” Doctor Hassan’s smile was sympathetic. “You must wait. The next twenty four hours are crucial.”