Authors: Jean Brashear
Oh, Remy…I don’t love you less,
she thought.
Mais yeah, my Annie. Of course not. How could you? I am one fine specimen, am I not?
She could see his smile, so wide and beloved.
It’s okay, isn’t it, Remy?
A warmth spread within her.
It’s okay, ma belle. You’re a woman meant to be loved.
“Mama? Are you all right?”
Anne snapped back to the circle of young women huddled around her.
“Yes.” She smiled. “Absolutely fine.”
“They’ll let us in to see him once he’s settled in ICU,” Judith said. “The two of us, if you’d like to go.”
“Oh, indeed I would.” She passed a hand over Judith’s hair. “Thank you,
chère
.”
Anne’s gaze ranged over her daughters. “And after Judith and I see William, perhaps you would take me home.”
“About time,” Charlotte muttered.
Anne smiled. Turned to Judith. “Would you like to
come with us,
chère?
It’s not a night to spend alone. I have no extra bedrooms in my quarters, but we could try to find you a room at the hotel.”
Judith glanced around at the others. “You’re very kind, but I can’t imagine that you have a single room empty, this close to Mardi Gras.”
Anne looked to Charlotte.
“Not a one.” She hesitated, clearly reluctant. Then she squared her shoulders. “I have an extra bedroom in my house. We have some things to discuss.”
Judith met her gesture. “We do, but I don’t have all the answers. Only my father can explain everything.”
“But we can start.”
Judith nodded. “We can. But I think maybe I’ll go back…home. To his house.”
“Will you be okay there,
chère?
” Anne asked. “It’s a very big place.”
Judith smiled. “But it’s where I grew up. Where I feel closest to him.”
“Fine.” Charlotte rose. “I’m going to check on the hotel.” She crossed to the door, and Anne was tempted to call her back and make her play nice.
But at the door, Charlotte turned. Met her mother’s eyes first, then Judith’s. “I’m glad he’s going to make it,” she said.
Anne sniffed back tears of pride. “Thank you,
bébé
.”
“Yes, thank you,” Judith chimed in.
A
NNE HELD HERSELF
upright through sheer force of will as they gained entry to the ICU hall. The corri
dors were wide and white and the stuff of science fiction.
And cold. She shivered. Judith, beside her, walked like an automaton, staring straight ahead.
Poor girl, all alone. William’s parents were dead, and his half sister Lily, a jazz pianist on tour, was stranded in Quebec City by a blizzard. There was a cousin, Jackson, who’d been Charlotte’s beau in high school, but he traveled the globe for an aid agency.
Anne slipped her arm through Judith’s and received a frightened smile in exchange. “You’ve never been in here?” she asked.
Judith shook her head.
“Neither have I, but we’ll manage.”
Judith nodded bravely. “We will.”
Anne pressed her palm to the huge metal disc that would open the door and thought how proud William would be of his girl.
The doors swung wide, and sterile white changed to an explosion of hums and dials and murmured voices. Anne sought out the first medical person they encountered. “William Armstrong?”
The nurse glanced at a monitor. “He’s in seven—that way,” she pointed. “Kevin is his nurse.”
They passed three cubicles, each with a forest of equipment so dense that it was hard to make out the body lying so still at the center.
Just keep walking
, Anne reminded herself.
William is at the end of the journey
.
“They don’t move,” Judith murmured. “They could be dead.”
Anne squeezed her arm. “But they aren’t. And he won’t be, either.” She couldn’t see a number anywhere.
William, where are you?
She felt dwarfed and weak from the night’s events. To think that hours before, she’d been primping for a date—
Her eyes filled, and she blinked madly to clear them. They would have other dates. He would be whole again.
He would, she insisted furiously.
“Ms. Armstrong?” a kind male voice inquired. “I’m Kevin, your father’s nurse. And this is—?”
Anne looked up. He was young, so young. “I’m Anne Marchand. William is my—” But what were they? What would they be?
“Mrs. Marchand is my father’s companion,” Judith said. “My mother is dead, and he would want her here. She’s the person he was trying to rescue when—”
Kevin’s eyes shifted to Anne. “And you’ve been injured yourself, am I right?”
“Nothing—” Anne had to clear her throat of the roughness “—nothing at all compared to what—” She blinked again, rapidly.
“I suspect you should be in a bed yourself, but I understand. At any rate, the visit must be limited. Five minutes per hour in ICU, though this late at night, it would be a kindness both to him and yourself to wait again until morning to visit. But that’s entirely your call.”
He gestured behind him. “Before I take you in, let me familiarize you with the situation. I’m sure all these machines look frightening, but I’ll explain what each is
for when we get inside. For now, I need you to understand that Mr. Armstrong is unconscious and won’t likely awaken fully for several hours, due to the effects of the anesthesia required for surgery. He also has a breathing tube, so he wouldn’t be able to speak to you anyway, but as with much of what’s in there, it’s merely a precaution, allowing his body time to resume normal functions. All his strength should be directed toward the job of healing, and what we’re doing is merely assuming some of the duties to allow him to adjust to the impact of both the gunshot and the surgery to repair the damage.”
He paused. “But it’s entirely possible that he can hear you, whether or not he can respond. And touch is always helpful to patients. Unfortunately, I’ll have to ask you to glove and gown as a precaution against infection, but he’ll still feel the pressure and warmth of the contact.” He smiled. “So—are you ready to see him?”
They both nodded. He gave them disposable gowns and gloves, and Judith helped Anne out when she found herself too sore to reach up to tie her gown at the back of her neck.
Then they were at the door of his cubicle, but Kevin still blocked their view. “I’ll be right outside.” He pointed to a computer on the other side of the glass wall. “We never leave them unmonitored, and each patient has his own nurse.” He stepped aside.
Anne could see the shape beneath the blankets, so still. Her gaze traveled up the bed, and she barely stifled a gasp.
Judith didn’t manage. “Oh, Daddy…”
Anne grasped her arm and led her to the bed. Tubes and wires were everywhere, it seemed, and his face—
She’d never seen William so immobile. The dynamic man, so powerful and energetic, was nowhere in sight. A breathing tube was taped to the corner of his mouth, and she could barely connect that mouth to the one that had made her tremble with pleasure.
And his eyes, the beautiful blue of them, were shuttered. The only thing that looked like William was his hair, the mane she’d stared down at from behind his head as he bled his life away in the street.
Oh, beloved. Please return to me.
A sob crowded her throat, but Judith’s small moan snapped her back.
“If he can hear us,
chère,
he needs only the positive.”
Judith’s swimming eyes met hers. She bit her lip and nodded. Turned back to him. “I love you, Daddy. I’m so sorry—” She shook her head abruptly. Drew in a deep breath. “Anne is here with me, and you’re going to be fine. You made it through the surgery, and they’re taking good care of you.”
She glanced at Anne, and Anne nodded her praise.
Judith’s hand stole toward his, then gripped. “I’m here, Daddy. I love you so much.” Then her head rose. “Here’s Anne now.” And she backed away.
Gratitude blurred Anne’s vision. This magnificent man had raised himself quite a girl. She patted Judith’s arm. “Thank you.” And moved to take her place.
“William,” she began, bending near, sliding her
fingers into his slack hand. So much she wanted to say. Apologies, promises, pleas.
But those would come later. They were her needs, not his.
His daughter might not welcome hearing this, but he had to hear what she’d been so hesitant to say before, until he lay bleeding at her feet.
“I love you, William Armstrong. You say I’m a challenge, but you’ve—” Her voice cracked. She started again. “You’ve won, William. I’ve been afraid to love you, afraid to care that much again, but you—” And here she couldn’t help smiling. “You’ve had your way, as you always seem to do.”
She stroked his forehead. Let her touch linger there while her other hand gripped his. “So come on, you empire builder, master this obstacle, too. You conquered me, after all.”
She bent and barely stopped herself from kissing his brow in time. She wanted to climb in that bed with him and protect him from everything, shield him and comfort him—
And later, by God, she would.
One more stroke, one more squeeze. “I want more adventures, my love. Come back to your beautiful, brave daughter, William, and please—” she swallowed hard “—come back to me.”
“Ladies, I’m sorry, but it’s time,” Kevin said.
Anne moved aside and let Judith have the last chance.
“I’ll be back, Daddy.” Then she looked at Anne. “We both will.”
Anne smiled through her tears.
A
NNE COULDN’T SLEEP
.
She should be tired enough, certainly—and was. But as the hours passed, her aching body settled into a low scream. She had pain pills, of course, prescribed at the hospital.
But she would not take them. Somehow, she had a sense that she was holding vigil. That she could help tie William to earth, keep him from passing, as Remy had, into another plane of existence, where she could not follow.
But I’m still here, ma belle. Still with you.
Anne shook her head at her foolishness in persisting to hear Remy’s voice.
So you’ve become my guardian angel, have you?
A smile twitched her lips.
Who better?
She could swear she heard him say.
She laughed, but it was strained. She’d lost her mind, quite obviously. The stress of everything had accumulated until she’d clearly gone batty.
Well, nothing for it but to get out of bed. She’d always been a big believer in the power of motion to overcome doubt. Sometimes you just had to take a step,
even if you weren’t sure of your destination, and matters would become clearer.
Her rising wasn’t pretty; thank goodness no one was here to see it. She would swear every muscle she possessed, and some she hadn’t known existed, was sore and bruised. She shuffled her way to the bathroom and started a shower, hot as she could stand it.
A bath was tempting, but she’d better remain standing. Having to call the desk for help in getting out of the tub would bring her overprotective daughters running.
She remained there for a long time, blessing the huge capacity of their boilers that she had plenty of hot water to restore her muscles to some semblance of flexibility.
As she dressed, she recognized who—and what—she was dressing for.
She was going to see William. Didn’t matter if she had to wait fifty-five minutes of each hour to be with him, or if he had awakened. If it was not yet dawn or if her daughters would disapprove or she’d have to negotiate with her staff not to forestall her—
By his side was the only place she wanted to be.
And so she would.
Forty-five minutes later, with reassurances to her staff and messages left for her daughters and Judith, Anne was at the hospital where Kevin, bless him, had not yet gone off duty and had agreed to let her inside.
“Mrs. Marchand, I’m a little surprised to see you back so soon.”
“How is he?”
Kevin smiled. “He’s been awake twice. Still groggy but coming out of it more each time he wakens.”
She gripped his forearm. “That’s wonderful. Oh, that’s—” She had to duck her head for a minute to gather herself.
“He’s doing well enough that I’ll talk to the doctor on duty and see if I can clear you to remain in the room as long as you wish.”
“Would you?” That’s what she wanted, she realized. To be with him from now on. To grab every second.
“There may be times when we’ll need to ask you to step out while we tend to him, but, sure—” He winked at her. “There’s nothing that helps a patient heal faster than loved ones.”
Anne grasped for a tissue from her purse. Blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes as some of the ice inside her melted. “I do love him,” she said, looking into the young man’s gentle eyes. “He—he’s said he wants to marry me, but I—” She stopped. “Well, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” She snapped herself into some semblance of her usual composure. “Glove and gown again?”
His expression was kind as he nodded. “For now. Until he’s moved upstairs.”
“When will that be?”
“I’m sure he won’t be here for my next shift. By this afternoon, I’d guess, if he continues to improve.” He gestured toward the metal chest containing sterile gowns and boxes of gloves. “Let me just make one check, then he’s all yours.” He headed off, then turned back. “Oh, and Mrs. Marchand?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t get to be with my patients for long, usually, but I do care about them, and I see the effects of this place on their families. Don’t be embarrassed that you confided in me. ICU sort of strips everything down to the basics.” He smiled. “He’s a lucky man to be so well-loved. Not all my patients have that.”
“You have a gift, Kevin,” she said. “Your patients are fortunate.”
“Not all of them make it, Mrs. Marchand. But this one will, I promise.” He left her then.
Moments later, she was standing on William’s far side, out of the main activity area in his cubicle. Kevin had brought her a chair, but it was too low for William’s bed, which was set at a height to allow the staff to tend to him without a lot of bending, Anne guessed. Maybe she would sit in a bit, but for now, she wanted to be as close to William as she could manage.
“William,” she said, gripping his right hand. “It’s Anne. I’m here. I love you.”
The breathing tube had been removed, thank goodness, replaced with a small tube feeding oxygen into his nostrils. She studied the planes and angles of his face. The lines that fanned from his eyes, carved his forehead.
They were not young, either of them. They would not have unlimited years together.
Why on earth had she been willing to waste a second of them?
She smoothed his hair. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but they say you might. I am so very sorry, William,
for all the terrible things I said to you.” She inhaled sharply. “I’m a proud woman, perhaps too proud, and it was never about you, but my need to remain independent. To take care of myself. Too late, I realize that it had everything to do with losing Remy and being afraid to go through that again. It took the heart from me, William. I hurt so badly I thought I would die. I would have, sometimes, gladly, if not for my girls.”
She stroked his brow. “I won’t try to tell you that I’m not still scared. Nearly losing you—” She had to pause. “It’s been as bad as I feared. Losing you would be every bit as devastating as Remy’s death. If I had a brain in my skull, I’d run away, far and fast.”
She exhaled softly with a sound of rue. “But it appears that whatever brains I had vanished completely when you moved in on me. You did that, William, don’t try to deny it. I was another mountain to climb, another battle to win in your quest to dominate the world around you.”
She smiled then. “But I’d bet that if you were awake, you’d just give me that shrug of yours, cocky and completely without remorse, wouldn’t you? I despair of you, William Armstrong, but—” She gave a small laugh. “I find myself utterly charmed by you. You charged into my life, bent on your goals, and you swept me right off my feet. You made me laugh again, blast you, and you turned my world upside down. I was resigned to being an old lady and only hoping to be graceful in my decline—”
She shook her head. “And what did you do but make me remember what it was to be a woman again, one who was desired? And…loved.”
Tears pricked at her eyes again. “I thought I was done with romance, but you saw to that, didn’t you?” She bent over. Squeezed his hand and cupped his cheek. “Well, you’ve done it now. You’re all I can think of, all I can see. So you wake up, you big pirate, you. Wake up and let me tell you how much I love you. Give me just one of those too-charming smiles I can’t seem to resist.”
At that moment, his lids fluttered once.
“Yes,” she whispered fiercely. “That’s it. Come back. Let me see those devil’s blue eyes. You don’t even have to talk, not yet. Just…oh, William…” The tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked. “I need you so. Love you so.”
Through the blur of her weeping, she saw it then, the flash of blue. She bit her lip. “Yes, my love. I’m here. Please, please, come back.”
Then they were there, open but hazy. Scanning her as if trying to place her.
His mouth opened. His voice was a croak. “Anne?”
She covered her gasp. Laughed out her gratitude. “Yes, it’s me. Oh, William, I love you so much. You’re going to be fine, just fine.”
He tried to lick his lips, and suddenly Kevin was there, dipping a sponge on a stick into water and moistening his mouth. William’s eyes darted to him.
“I’m Kevin, remember? You’re doing fine, Mr. Armstrong. I can’t give you water yet, but this will help.”
Then he handed the glass and sponge to Anne. “Here. Would you like to do this while I take some readings?”
She nodded, took them gratefully, though she was reluctant to let go of William’s hand.
“Anne.” His voice was barely a whisper.
“Shh,” she said. “You don’t have to talk now.”
He shook his head impatiently. Winced. “You…okay?”
She dipped her head. Blinked back tears at the joy of hearing him. Of knowing that her welfare was his first thought. “I’m fine, just fine. Now that you’re awake, I’m absolutely marvelous.”
His eyelids drifted shut. “Tired.”
“I know, my love. Sleep now.”
“Don’t…leave,” he murmured.
“Oh, I won’t. I promise I won’t. And Judith will be back later. She’ll be so happy.” She placed the glass and its sponge on the bedside table and gripped his hand again. Cupped his cheek. “I’m so very happy to see you.”
“Sorry.” His gaze sharpened, just for an instant. “Not…want…hurt.”
“I’m sorry, too. Please don’t worry. Just rest now.”
“Love you,” he murmured sleepily. “So…much.”
“I love you, too, William. Oh, how I love you.”
He drifted off with a smile on his face.
Anne sank into the chair.
And wept her profound relief and gratitude.
They would have their chance, after all. She would make the most of every second granted to them.
Kevin caught her gaze and smiled.
Anne smiled back and settled in to wait.
For her future. For the man who was her heart.
A
CROSS TOWN
, a telephone rang. A sleepy man answered.
“Bring in the Corbins—now,” Mike Blount’s curt
voice snapped. “And get hold of Ricky and Lou. As of tonight, I’m taking over.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The Marchand women need a lesson. They’ll sign…or else.”