“Thank you,” Tamara gasped. Although she hadn’t allowed anyone to see her cry in years, and kept her tears and emotions hidden, she broke down and wept. Her sobs tore out of her throat and she cried so hard she couldn’t see for the tears streaming down her face.
After washing her face and drinking a cold soft drink to calm her nerves, Tamara found her way to the room number the doctor provided. Wulfric wasn’t there yet, but she sat down in the room’s sole chair and waited. When the staff delivered Wulfric, she waited as they hooked him up to all the monitors, checked the IV in his right arm, and settled him. She waited until everyone departed and approached the bed. He wasn’t awake, but she took his hand and held it anyway.
Wulfric’s pale face scared her, so white and still in repose. All the emotions normally visible on his face were absent. He didn’t look asleep the way people liked to say unconscious patients seemed. To her, he appeared almost dead, but Tamara checked the monitors. Each of the different colored lines demonstrated he lived. She wasn’t any expert but as far as she could determine, his breathing, his pulse, his heart rate and blood pressure all maintained. When she took a closer look, she saw the slight rise and fall of his chest. On impulse, she leaned way over to put her ear to his chest and when she heard the steady thump of his heartbeat, some of her fears eased.
The next time a nurse showed up, Tamara asked her, “When will Wulfric wake up?”
A smile played across the woman’s lips. “It may be a few hours yet, but don’t worry, he will. So his name’s Wulfric? He’s charted as Ric Hopkins.”
Tamara nodded. “Yeah, he’s Wulfric. His mom’s German.”
“Now I understand why she’s got an accent,” the nurse commented. “She called earlier to check on him and said she’d be here soon.”
So, somebody did call her, then. Good, it’s something I don’t have to do. Tamara glanced down at her blood-spattered pants where the crimson stains dried more brown than red. Yesterday she would’ve turned tail and run, if someone told her she’d have to face Wulfric’s mother or anyone else. Today, her desire to remain with him outweighed any nervous tension within.
“Did she mention if she blames me for this?” Tamara asked her, the question out before she considered it.
The nurse turned to her with surprise. “No, she didn’t. Why on earth would she?”
With some pride, a lot of love, and worry Tamara replied, “He took the bullet for me. Some stoned guy tried to rob me at the supermarket where I work and Wulfric got me out of the way.”
“So that’s why someone said he’s a hero,” the nurse commented. “Sounds to me like he’s your guardian angel too.”
He was, and so much more, but Tamara lacked the words to explain so she nodded. She raised Wulfric’s hand to her mouth and kissed it. After the nurse left, Tamara dragged the chair up beside the bed to wait. She wanted him to see her first thing when he opened his eyes.
Somewhere toward morning, Tamara drifted toward sleep, dozing but not quite out of it. Noise in the hallway and an unexpected babble of voices roused her. As she blinked, the door to the hospital room opened and Helga Hopkins approached, flanked by her two daughters, Mina and Trudi, also known as Wilhelmina and Gertrude. With the relentless progress of a battleship on high alert, Helga approached the bed where her son remained prone.
“Ach, lieber Gott,” she said. “He looks terrible, my Wulfric does. Has he woken up?”
Tamara shook her head. “No, Mrs. Hopkins, he hasn’t.”
Then she braced herself for a scolding––one she probably deserved. Wulfric’s three closest relatives stared at her and Tamara waited for the attack, but Mrs. Hopkins shook her head. “He’ll be happy you’re here when he does, I know, so I’m glad you’re with him, Tamara.”
Startled by the kind words when she’d expected a tongue lashing, Tamara glanced up, perplexed. “Did they tell you how he got shot, what happened?”
If no one had, she would, hard as it would be to do. Once she did, then his family would probably rip her to shreds with harsh words.
“Ja, Ja, the police did,” Helga said and bobbed her head in a nod. “It doesn’t surprise me he would take a bullet to save you. I didn’t know you were still being with him, but I’m glad.”
Mina’s gaze dropped to the blood stains on Tamara’s jeans and she gasped. “There’s blood on your clothes!”
“It’s Wulfric’s,” Tamara said. “I came straight here with him, with no time to change.”
“Your mom or somebody should’ve brought you clean clothes,” Trudi said.
Their ignorance of her horrible home life shocked Tamara. Wulfric must not have ever shared her situation. “I didn’t call my parents,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “There’s not much of anyone who could help me.”
Helga scrutinized Tamara and after several moments said, “You are about the size of Mina. She can go home and get something of hers to borrow. I don’t want Wulfric to see you all bloody. It might upset him.”