Authors: Michele Dunaway
“H
E WON
’
T
call back,” Liam said. He’d rolled over, shielding his eyes from the wall sconce on Cynthia’s side of the bed.
“He might,” Cynthia said, turning the page on the latest legal thriller she was reading. Besides, waiting for Hart gave her an excuse not to set the book down. She was riveted.
“So he really said he knew what he wanted?” Liam asked.
“He said it.” Now at the end of the chapter, Cynthia forced herself to put the book on the nightstand so that she wouldn’t keep reading. Thankfully the race had been on Saturday night. That meant Sunday was a free day, unlike when the races occurred Sunday afternoon. Then it was right back into the office Monday morning by nine-thirty, with no time off. The seven-day schedule could be brutal.
“I told Hart I was going to sleep on it,” Cynthia said. “But if this really is the woman he wants…”
“I’ve never seen him like this. Lusting, yes, but enamored and committed, no.”
“I agree,” Cynthia said. She sighed and clicked off the light, sending the room into darkness minus the glow from the lights in the street. Unlike Hart and his acreage, Liam and Cynthia lived in an upscale townhome community and had one of the end units.
“So what are you going to do?” Liam asked.
“I don’t know. Having disliked just about everyone Hart’s ever brought around, I didn’t expect to like her. But she impressed me. She’s not hanging around Hart because he’s a celebrity. In fact, I think she could care less. So I’ll see what I can do. Starting with getting her to the track.”
“I
CAN
’
T COME
to the track next weekend,” Kellie told Hart on Monday afternoon. She shifted the phone, cradling the hard plastic device next to her ear. He’d asked her twice yesterday, before they’d left for the airport. The image of Hart, standing in the driveway and waving goodbye as the car pulled away, was burned into her mind. Sunday had been surreal.
Once everyone had gotten up, Kellie had allowed Charlie to race one of Hart’s go-carts around the track. She and Hart had even gotten along famously, almost as if they were an old married couple. The day had been so much fun that Kellie had embedded it in her memory as one of the best of her life.
But before she’d known it, the hired car had pulled up the driveway to take them to the airport where Hart’s private plane had waited to take them home.
The moment she’d walked back into her small three-bedroom house, the letdown had come. Square-footage-wise, her one-story ranch was only slightly larger than Hart’s basement. She comforted herself with the fact that this place was hers, paid in full with insurance money. She could mortgage it again if she needed money for Charlie’s treatments.
She clenched her fist and opened it slowly to defuse her body’s tension. Like being at a tropical beach and eventually having to wash off the sand and go back to the concrete jungle of suburbia, she’d needed to close the door on the weekend. Even if she really didn’t want to, Kellie just couldn’t fathom how anything between her and Hart could ever work. Best to nip it in the bud than suffer greater disappointment later.
“Hart, Charlie has tests later this afternoon to check his cell counts. His teeth bled more than normal today and I’m worried,” she told him.
“Kellie�” Hart began, but she interrupted him although it pained her greatly to do so. She knew people might call her foolish, but Hart’s priority was racing. Hers was her son.
“Hart, we had a really great weekend. But we need to leave it at that. I know Charlie would really like to be there this weekend, but he’s lying around today, not feeling well. Too much excitement can wear him out.”
“Mom?”
Kellie turned, seeing Charlie standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She covered the mouthpiece. “Yes, honey?”
“Don’t say no. If nothing else, you go to the track. He likes you. I can stay home with Grandma. Don’t miss this chance.”
“I’m not going to leave you,” Kellie said stubbornly, her hand still on the mouthpiece. As for a chance with Hart Hampton…all she’d done was kiss him.
“Mom,” Charlie protested. He began to twitch and Kellie’s hand shook as she realized the implications. Although body tremors could be common, they were not a good sign, especially when he hadn’t had them for a while. Suddenly a slight drop of red formed underneath Charlie’s left nostril. Kellie’s hand flew to her mouth and she gripped the telephone even tighter as Charlie reached on the counter and grabbed a napkin. She uncovered the phone. “Hart, Charlie’s nose is bleeding. I have to go.”
“Kellie…”
“I’ll call you later and let you know what’s going on. I’m promise.” She hung up on him and went to her son. “Let’s head into the clinic early,” she told him, fear gripping her tightly. She could already predict what the doctor would tell her. Charlie’s counts would be low. He’d probably need an infusion. She touched her son; his skin was on fire. “You’re feverish.”
This time, he didn’t argue.
“Mom?” Kellie called out. “Mom!”
Anita came out of the laundry room where she’d been ironing. “Yes?”
“We need to go,” Kellie said.
Anita reached for her purse. “I’ll get the car.”
H
OURS LATER
, Charlie’s pediatric cancer specialist stood outside the hospital room. Dr. Murphy had been with Charlie for several years now, and Kellie had always been impressed with him. “It’s returned full force, hasn’t it?” she asked, referring to the leukemia.
“It’s not as bad as you think,” the doctor said before proceeding to give Kellie the exact medical details, including Charlie’s cell counts. “We’re not seeing the resistance to chemo, and that’s encouraging. His body is trying to make cells. However, he’s got an infection and we’re administering antibiotics.”
“The weekend took it out of him,” Kellie said, blaming herself.
The doctor shook his head. “Not necessarily. Physically it might have exhausted him. He told me he did a lot of walking.”
Kellie bit the inside of her cheek. No matter what the doctor said, she knew the weekend had simply been too much.
“However,” Dr. Murphy continued, “mentally and emotionally, this is the best I’ve seen Charlie in a few years. It’s like he’s had a new lease on life. He loved being at the track and he told me he wants to go back to watch a few more races. He said that if he can get better, Hart will let him come to a few more.”
“I don’t think we’ll be doing that.”
The doctor assessed her quietly. “You might want to reconsider. Charlie needs something to fight for.”
“You can’t just wish cancer away,” Kellie said.
Dr. Murphy shook his head. “No, you can’t. But the power of positive thinking is a very mysterious thing. People told they’d never walk again are out running marathons. We see miracles every day in this business. Maybe not as many as we’d like, but we see them. Charlie’s a very positive boy and he wants this. We’re on schedule for another round of chemo later in the summer. I’m very optimistic about that.”
“I hope so,” Kellie said. She’d had her hopes dashed before. The bone marrow transplant that had worked�for a while. The first round of chemo and the subsequent drugs that had gotten a short remission�before the cancer had come back full force again.
“As soon as we get the infection under control, we’ll be able to send him home,” the doctor said. “A couple of days, barring anything else.”
Kellie nodded. She’d been through this so many times it was rote. Tests. X rays. MRIs. Red cell transfusions. Platelet transfusions. Pain medication. Her son had no resistance to infections of any sort. His body ached just because. He had frequent headaches. An occasional batch of shingles. It was as if he was allergic to everything, although allergic wasn’t the right word. But that gave people the general idea, an analogy that helped them make sense of the incomprehensible.
She pushed open the door to Charlie’s hospital room. He was awake, watching television. “Hey,” she said.
“Hi.”
“Dr. Murphy says he’s optimistic about the next round of chemo,” Kellie told her son. She sat down in the chair next to him. “What are you watching?”
“Reruns,” Charlie said as he used his fingertip to change the channel. “I wish the hospital would get more channels. They need pay-TV. I’m bored. I’m out of here by Sunday so I can watch the race at home and have pizza.”
“You know, speaking of racing, Dr. Murphy says that he’s never seen you so excited about something.”
Charlie kept his gaze on the TV. “I told him about my visit to the track. He’s not a race fan, but he told me his wife buys him Elementals undershirts.”
“That Hampton magic at work,” Kellie said, with a smile.
Charlie yawned. He moved his arm, the intravenous tube moving with him. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
“I saw Jane just come in.”
“My favorite nurse,” Charlie said with a sleepy nod. He’d been in and out of the hospital so often, he knew everyone in the cancer treatment center. “Did they give me something to make me sleep? My eyes feel like they have weights on them…And I don’t ache as much…I want to see Hart again.”
“They did give you something. It’s kicking in now,” Kellie said. “We’ll talk about visiting Hart when you wake up.”
His pale blue eyes opened and gazed at her intensely. “So I get to go?”
“You aren’t going to be up for it this weekend, sport,” Kellie said. “After that, we’ll see. But I won’t outright say no.”
“That’s enough for now,” Charlie replied, closing his eyes again. A small smile formed on his lips. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“I know.” Kellie brushed his hair away from his eyes and leaned over and pressed her lips to forehead. He was much cooler now. “I love you, too.”
“Don’t forget to call Hart…You hung up on him…said you’d call him back. He should know…what’s going on. He cares, Mom.”
“It’s too late to call him now. I’ll phone first thing tomorrow morning,” she said. “Promise.”
“I’m holding you to that,” Charlie said as he drifted off to sleep.
Tears formed and Kellie brushed them away. “I know.”
H
ART PACED
the small conference room like a caged animal. Every Tuesday morning at ten, he and Wally had a meeting with Liam to go over the previous race weekend. The fact that he’d placed third and not made any mistakes should work in his favor and keep the meeting short.
“You’re going to wear out the carpet,” Wally said. “Relax. No questionable pit stops. No poor driving. No wrecks to explain this time.”
“Yeah,” Hart replied, his agitation not ebbing. He’d been trying to reach Kellie since she’d hung up on him yesterday. He’d gotten an answering machine and her cell phone voice mail. No news was not necessarily good news.
The door opened and Liam walked in, a file folder in his hand. Often he might also have a DVD containing footage of the weekend’s race. Today, though, the folder contained very few sheets and the meeting went quickly once everyone was seated.
“Hart, stay behind a second,” Liam said as he dismissed Wally. Hart had been halfway up out of the leather chair, and he sank back down. “Few things. One, your sponsors were thrilled with your performance. You ran a good, clean race and calmed everyone’s jitters.”
He’d indicated as much to Wally, so Hart wasn’t sure why Liam was repeating this. “Cynthia spoke with Eileen Swikle’s network, and there’s not much we can do. The story had so much of a feel-good quality that Eileen launched it on her news show yesterday afternoon.”
Hart winced. He’d been at the shop, working with the guys getting the following weekend’s car ready.
“I’m sure Kellie didn’t see the show,” Hart told Liam. In fact, Hart was pretty positive she hadn’t, or she’d have called. Then at least he’d know what was going on.
“Maybe Kellie didn’t see it,” Liam said, “but your interviewer today did. He sent over a list of questions for you to look at. They want to use the same angle.”
Hart exhaled sharply.
“You have to admit that it’s an area you’ve never been strong in before,” Liam said. “You’ve been known as a playboy, not a hands-on, do-gooder family man.”
“Just because I don’t have my own foundation or run my own charity events…”
“Yes, I know,” Liam interrupted the spiel. “You give tons of money and show up at just about any event any of your friends organize for their charities. That’s all well and good. But you touched the heart of a child. That’s big, newsworthy stuff.”
“I promised Kellie she wouldn’t come into this. She’s not planning on returning to the track any time soon.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Liam said. “I know you like her.”
“I do. I don’t want to risk alienating her. If I can’t handle this interview, it could seal my fate and ruin any chance I have.” Hart tapped his fingers on the table as he contemplated a strategy. “I want Russ there. He’s always good interference. I know I granted this magazine an exclusive interview so they’re not going to want to lose that. Just having my photo on their cover will sell tons of copies.”
“True,” Liam acknowledged. “Any magazine featuring you always sells well.”
“I’m not happy about this angle.” Hart saw Liam’s expression. “Don’t tell me it’ll help my sponsors. You and I both know that I’ve reached the level where I can afford to be picky.”
“Yes, except they’ve been nervous lately,” Liam said.
Hart pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He’d had it on silent during the meeting, and he had a missed call. He hit the button and the display read Kellie. He’d programmed in her number, and she’d called. “Hold on. I have to take this,” Hart told Liam. Ignoring his uncle’s curiosity, Hart hit the button that connected to his voice mail.
“Hi, Hart, it’s Kellie. I’m sorry I hung up on you but I needed to get Charlie to the hospital. He has an infection and will be there a few days. We won’t make it this weekend, but…” Hart heard her take a deep breath. “If you’re still willing to have us visit a track some other time, Charlie would really like that. His doctor thinks it’s a good idea and I agree. I’ll call you when he’s better.”
Hart closed his phone, saving the voice mail. “Charlie’s in the hospital,” he told Liam. “If we’re done here?”
Normally Liam wouldn’t tolerate Hart’s insubordination. Although Hart did own part of the company, he was technically an employee and Liam his boss. But Liam simply appeared shocked. “Sure.”
“Thanks.” Hart rose, and hit a number on his phone as he strode from the conference room. “Hey, Russ. Cancel everything for the next two days. Yeah, even today’s interview. Tell them Charlie’s in the hospital and we need to reschedule.” Hart listened to Russ for a moment. “No, I don’t care. Some things are more important than press and racing. Russ, this is one of those times.”