Along the Broken Road (22 page)

Mr. Gruber closed his eyes. “I guess I don’t mind that.” Neither Charlee nor Dr. Giles was surprised when a light snore came from Mr. Gruber.

“He’s doing great, Charlee. Vitals are all strong, really came through like a champ.”

Charlee pulled a deep breath and expelled all the fear she’d collected after the last several hours. “Thanks so much, Wes. Or should I call you Dr. Giles?”

“Just call me,” he said with a quick grin. “Oh, I forgot.” He turned back to Mr. Gruber and shook him gently to wake him.

Groggy eyes opened.

“Your daughter called to get an update on your progress.”

Blood turned to ice in Charlee’s veins. Wes gave her a last glance and left the room.

Charlee watched him go but could feel Gruber’s eyes—daggers—penetrating her shell.

“What’d he mean, my daughter called?”

Charlee raised a hand to wipe the back of her neck and to block those spears for eyes. “Maybe he confused you with someone else.”

“Charlee, what’d you do? You call my daughter?” There was anger in his tone, but something else. Fear. When she finally looked at him, she wished she hadn’t. His eyes were wide with mistrust, like a man who’d built a beautiful fantasy world only to watch it fall to pieces around him.

“I’m sorry. Yes. I called.”

His age-weathered hand fisted into the sheet. “And?”

Oh no. She wouldn’t tell him. And maybe there was some hope because after their conversation, Ashley had called the hospital to get an update.

“You answer me, girl. You called. Stuck your nose in my business. Now that it’s getting messy, you want out?”

Nausea roiled through her stomach. “I told her you were in surgery. She said she wouldn’t come.” After saying it, Charlee looked at him. Because he deserved her eye contact.

He remained stoic for a moment, but then the marble shell cracked, eyes crimping, mouth quivering. “Wouldn’t expect more than that.”

“I’m so sorry.”

When she reached to take his hand, he pulled away. “I didn’t give up on her, mind you. She gave up on me. And I don’t blame her that.” The ghosts and regrets of the past hovered in his gaze. “At least you’re the only one that knows. Please, don’t tell them. I couldn’t live with it.”

Charlee’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Okay,” she squeaked out.

And those eyes were piercing her again, like two little needles penetrating her flesh. “They don’t . . . they don’t know, do they?” It was as if he could barely get the words out.

The remaining portion of Charlee’s heart broke into tiny pieces. “I’m sorry. Wynona was with me when I called.”

His gaze jerked around the room, lighting here and there for short moments then moving on as if everywhere he looked, something was accusing him of the lie he’d been living. When his breathing spiked and a new machine started beeping, Charlee moved closer to him. “It’s all okay, Mr. Gruber. No one cares about that.”

His hands clenched and unclenched into the bedsheets. “Get out,” he ordered, and the strength of his voice pushed Charlee back a step.

This only fueled his resolve. He pointed to the door. “Get out. Don’t . . . don’t come back. I . . .”

The nurse came rushing in, took one glance at the scene and headed toward the bed. “We need to get your blood pressure down.” Her voice was soothing, but fervent. “Calm down.”

He stretched to look around her, ignoring her plea. “I don’t want to see any of them here. No one.”

Charlee—being the source of his pain—left the room. Giant tears accompanied her hurried steps as she raced down the hall. She finally found a women’s restroom and tucked inside. Mr. Gruber had been living a lie. Making a big deal out of all the things his daughter sent when he was sending them to himself. All the conversations about how he thought his daughter should save her money, not blow it on candy and chocolates for him. It all rushed into Charlee’s mind and settled there. How lonely he must have been to do that. How embarrassed he must have been that his own daughter wouldn’t have a relationship with him. And the embarrassment he’d suffer now. Now that the truth was out and he’d have to face everyone.

Charlee pressed a cold, wet paper towel to her cheeks. She couldn’t have known. How could she have known? It didn’t matter. The damage was done. She’d tried so hard to protect the artists from the world outside of the retreat gates. But the destruction came from within. Charlee stared at her face in the mirror, swollen eyes, mouth bent into a frown.
Is there nowhere that’s truly safe?

Of course there was. Staring at the reflection, she considered her options. Pain could be managed. It could be dulled, and she knew just how to do it. Her mind trailed to the wedding, the tent, Brenna’s fiancé sliding that seductive glass under her nose. Charlee’s tongue darted out and licked her lips as if she could still taste the liquid. Fresh and fire. Just for her.

No. She slammed her fist on the bathroom counter. She’d made a promise. She wouldn’t go there. Not after last time. She thought of how badly it had hurt everyone—the artists who’d searched for her. Rodney, who’d finally found her. Charlee drew from the well of strength and support around her. This time, she wouldn’t let them down. After several minutes the invasive voice quieted, no longer driving her, no longer in control. She’d stilled the beast. Even though she wanted to leave, just run to her Jeep, Charlee had to make sure Mr. Gruber was okay. She left the sanctuary of the ladies’ room and walked back down the hall wishing she felt more victorious about calming the monster she knew dwelt within her.

There was no commotion at Mr. Gruber’s door. She hoped that to be a good sign. A woman dressed in a colorful scrub top of tiny top hats and walking sticks looked up from the nurses’ station.

The woman gave her a smile and said, “Can I help you?”

She didn’t answer, but cast a glance to Mr. Gruber’s door.

Understanding entered the woman’s gaze. “I’ll go get his nurse. You can talk with her.”

Charlee’s fingers threaded together on the cool countertop. She felt so tired, so spent, but who cared? She’d messed up everything by trying to help. The nurse arrived and pointed to a door down the hall. It was a consultation room and Charlee’s heart kicked up as they neared. Once inside, the nurse rubbed her fingertips over her eyes. “I’ve got to stop agreeing to these double shifts.”

Charlee swallowed the ball of cotton in her throat and waited.

“Arnold is resting. His heart rate went dangerously high, as you witnessed. Blood pressure is under control now.” She tilted her head and regarded Charlee like she was trying to figure out a puzzle. “What happened?”

Charlee laughed without humor. She wouldn’t tell anyone else about Mr. Gruber’s secret. “I said the wrong thing.”

“Must have been epic to get that reaction.”

Charlee nodded. It was.

A sympathetic smile crossed the nurse’s face. “We have to do what’s best for our patients.” The words were careful, deliberate, words that could elicit a bad reaction if not delivered delicately. Charlee’s heart froze. What was this woman saying? Were they not going to allow her to visit Mr. Gruber ever again?

The nurse placed a hand on Charlee’s shoulder. “He’s refusing to see any visitors. Anyone.” With that, the woman’s chin tilted downward as if it solidified the request.

“But—”

Of course, she’d planned to leave him alone for a time, but she was all he had. She and Ian and the other artists. “I’m sorry. He is refusing. We can’t force him. And we wouldn’t. He is in his right mind and has every right to make decisions for himself.”

Charlee couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. A choked, “I see,” came from somewhere inside her. She shook off the shock. “For how long?”

The nurse turned to leave and cast a glance over her shoulder. “As long as he’s here.” It was so final, so conclusive Charlee couldn’t gather the strength to follow her through the door, so she remained there, mouth hanging open and drying inside. Several minutes had passed when she realized she needed to leave the little room where news was given.

She’d had a bit of time now to consider her new world. A world where Mr. Gruber hated her and would never forgive her for letting him down. What if she never saw him again? What if once he was well, he sent a service to pick up his things at the retreat? Fear drove her back up the hallway to a spot along the wall where she could peek around the corner and see him through the window. Certain he was asleep, Charlee stepped out and stood there staring at him.
Trace my face with your eyes
, her mother had told her a few nights before she died.
Trace my face, then close your eyes and imagine me there. Can you see me? That’s where I’ll always be. Right there, locked away tight. In the eyes of your heart.

Charlee closed her eyes and locked Mr. Gruber in that place too. A presence beside her drew her attention and Charlee opened her eyes to find a tall, slender brunette standing at her side. “Are you Charlee?”

Giant brown eyes blinked, hopeful. And Charlee’s mind rushed to catch up. She knew her, would recognize her anywhere. “Are you Ashley?”

The woman’s sad eyes trailed to the hospital room. “I had to come.” She shook her head and the scent of magnolias flew off the long, mink-colored strands. “No matter what he’s done to me, he’s still my father.”

Charlee tried to form words, but exhaustion and confusion refused to let her.

“I owe you an apology. The way I acted on the phone. I’ve mentally prepared myself for this. Expected it one day, even rehearsed my speech.” She gave a toss of her head and readjusted the deep red designer handbag over her other shoulder.

“But you came.” Charlee felt the first inkling of hope since the scene in Mr. Gruber’s room.

“As soon as I hung up the phone, I made arrangements for Vivi, caught a few hours’ sleep and here I am.”

It took a lot of spunk for her to get here, Charlee could tell. “Thank you for coming. I think he needs you now more than ever.”
Especially since he’s refusing to see us. You’re the only family he’s got left.

Ashley cleared her throat. “Please, understand. I’m not exactly here for him. I came because I needed to. For me.”

Charlee’s heart sank into her stomach. “But—”

Ashley held up a perfectly manicured hand. “Please don’t make the mistake of thinking he and I will reconcile. I don’t know what’s going to happen. All I know is I had to come.”

Confusion pushed against Charlee’s mind, a mind that felt numb from everything that happened since yesterday morning when Ian showed up with a plate of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. It seemed so long ago. Days, weeks ago.

Ashley tucked her hair behind an ear and leaned her weight on the wall at their back. Her feet were clad in mile-high stilettos—red, to match the purse. Big city girl, through and through. And tough. But there was also a softness that Charlee could only hope would surge to the surface so she and her father could start over.

From their vantage point, they watched as Dr. Giles stepped into the room. Charlee tucked back a bit when he woke Mr. Gruber. She glanced over to find Ashley mentally preparing herself for the doctor’s report, for seeing her dad, for talking to him after all these years. Ashley, a woman who looked strong enough she could skewer you with her steak knife, then politely ask for seconds, fidgeted with the briefcase-style handle on her designer bag.

They watched Dr. Giles leave the room, just after pulling the drape around Mr. Gruber’s bed.

His face was a mask of concern. Charlee’s heart jumped. He stepped to the women after his nurse pointed in their direction. “He’s stable for the moment.”

“For the moment?” Ashley asked, leaning off the wall.

Dr. Giles studied her a few seconds without speaking.

She thrust out a hand. “I’m Ashley Gruber. I’m his daughter. I just got in; I’d like to see him if he’s strong enough.”

Wes’s gaze darted to Charlee. “You didn’t tell her?”

Ashley stiffened. “Tell me what?”

Charlee forced out a breath. “She’s his
daughter
. Of course he will want to see her.”

Wes raised his hands in a shrug. “I’m sorry. Truly. No one. He even said, no family.”

A sound that was neither a laugh nor a cough came from Ashley. “I’m the only family he has.” And the implication was not lost on Charlee or Wes. If he refused to see family, he’d specifically refused to see her.

Charlee turned to face her. “This is my fault, you see your dad . . .”

But the flat hand that rose to block Charlee stopped her words. “Don’t. I should have known. Some things never change.” Ashley turned her attention to Wes. “Will there be any expenses his health insurance doesn’t cover?”

Wes pulled a breath. “I . . . I don’t know. Medicare covers some, but not all.”

Ashley popped her bag open and pulled out a pen and small notebook, all business now. Shoulder strap back in place along with every hair on her head. “I’ll sign whatever you need me to, but the bills will be taken care of.” There was such a tight professionalism to her tone, Charlee could only stand there stunned. Ashley was going to pay the bills for a man who refused to see her. She squared her shoulders. “If there’s any change in his condition, please let me know. Here’s my cell number. Or I can be reached tonight at the Carter Bed and Breakfast. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.” She turned a glare on Charlee. “I wish you’d never called me. I was okay. After trying to be in contact with him for a solid year and being rejected while he was too busy being drunk, I was okay without him. You didn’t help anyone by calling me.” Ashley spun and stormed off—attorney style—down the hospital corridor, leaving a speechless doctor to stare at Charlee.

Wes reached out to touch her, but she recoiled. “What was I supposed to do?” The words slid right from her mouth unguarded. “I didn’t know. He never told me not to contact her.”

“It’s okay, Charlee.”

Her eyes found him. “No. It’s not okay by any stretch.
I’m
not okay.” She needed to leave, go, get out of there. The walls were closing in, the oxygen was thin and dry and wouldn’t satisfy her lungs. She had to go, now. Right now.