Whisper Privileges (37 page)

Wait and see. Her breathing grew shallow. “Is
that a good idea?” Her gaze dodged toward the bed, Q’s slender body
outlined by thin white blankets. The one that seemed so strong and
capable in the pool, yet appeared weak and vulnerable now. “I mean,
under the circumstances, is that wise?” The boy has had seizures
before. “What if it happens again? Shouldn’t his safety come
first?”

“I wouldn’t do anything to put my son in
jeopardy.” Clay met her head on. “But you have to understand,
without swimming in these events, Q may regress.”

“Regress? Is that possible?”

“Anything’s possible.” Clay settled on his
son. “Swimming has proved that to him. It’s the one area of his
life where he feels good about himself. No one treats him
differently. No one asks him questions he can’t answer, puts him on
defense with their stares. He’s not the odd man out in the pool.”
His voice dropped to a mere whisper. “He’s the star.”

It was true. She’d witnessed as much
firsthand.

“His doctors will make the ultimate decision,
but I know Q. This won’t keep him down.” He turned to her and
behind the confident assertion she detected a wave of fear. “It
can’t.”

Clay was afraid. Swimming had freed his son
from his mental cave and the father wanted it to continue. Needed
it to continue. It was a need she understood. But with nothing
intelligent to contribute to the conversation, she remained quiet.
Perhaps it was enough to simply sit and keep him company. Let him
know she was here for him.

He tried to smile, but when it didn’t come
easy, Clay seemed content to abandon the effort. He returned to his
son. Behind them, a man rolled a large piece of equipment down the
hallway, en route to another bed, another patient. She didn’t know
what the machine was or why it was needed. Only that it was to help
someone which made her feel better, eased the stress. Though she
didn’t care much for the sterile atmosphere, the questioning
glances from passing strangers as they checked the goings-on in
each bed, she felt good knowing she was here in the role of
support, of friend. Being here felt right. Clay had done as much
for her in the course of their last week together, it only seemed
fair she return the favor.

But is that all it was? A favor returned? A
moment of crisis shared between friends?

Were they friends
? She took Clay in
from the corner of her eyes, careful not to stare or draw attention
to herself as she contemplated their relationship. What were
they—more than friends? It was strange how after knowing someone
for barely two weeks you could feel close to them, comfortable
enough with them to sit by a hospital bed as if you’d known them
your whole life. But with Clay, she was beginning to have those
feelings. Warm feelings. Feelings of attraction yes, but it was
deeper. Sydney was beginning to feel as though she knew the man
inside, the man Clay was and wanted to become. He was solid and
sure, friendly and kind, and yes, sexy and alluring. But would they
ever get there? Would they ever reach the point of consummation,
the moment when they both decided on commitment? Were they on their
way? And where was
there
? Miami? South Carolina?

Sydney shook it from her mind. It was too
much. Building her future around a man with whom she had yet to
create a foundation was silly. Kinda like starting a new job and
deciding after two weeks, yep—this company’s for you! You’ll spend
your entire career right here with this boss and this group of
coworkers. Thoughts of her current situation scratched into her
reverie. She didn’t want to go there.

But Clay was different, wasn’t he? I mean,
she was here because he wanted her to be here, right? Theirs was an
easy camaraderie, a most definite attraction. They shared something
special. Calmed by the shift in focus, she breathed in, slow and
full, releasing the breath in a stream of calm. Yes. They had
something
.

“How’s he doing?’

The soft feminine voice ripped through
her.

“Same,” Clay replied without looking up.

“Here’s your coffee,” Trish said. Handing him
the steaming cup of nearly black liquid, her free hand landed
softly on his shoulder. She caressed his back, bright red nails
capturing Sydney’s attention as they swept back and forth across
the red of his T-shirt. Red—the color of her shorts, her
toenails...the ruby in the ring on her slender finger. The strong
scent of coffee filled Sydney’s nostrils. Trish moved to Clay’s
other side, her breasts brushing against his body as she pressed
by. “Your parents are grabbing a bite to eat,” she drawled and
patted his arm. “They’ll be here shortly.”

“Good. The doctor won’t be back for another
hour, anyway.”

The conversation went on without her and
Sydney felt every bit the third wheel. Trish sat, crossed her legs,
the arches of her feet high and curvy in four-inch heels. Up close,
she thought her tanned skin practically glowed, even in this
lighting, as though it were infused with sunshine. Dressed in socks
and sneakers, Polo and khakis, Sydney felt plain by comparison.
Make that a third wheel with a broken spoke.

Sydney rose. It was an involuntary reaction
to an unexpected intrusion—one she had not anticipated and wanted
to fight—but damn it, found that she couldn’t stay here another
second.

“Where are you going?” Clay asked in mild
alarm.

“I need to get back to work.” It was her
default excuse. The irreproachable statement of fact that saved her
from many an uncomfortable moment with this man would do so
now.

“But isn’t Charlie looking out for
things?”

Her breathing stopped.
So he knew
.
Must be the reason Charlie had been so amenable. It was a favor for
his friend. Trapped by indecision, she cast a glance toward
Trish.

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” she
said, her southern accent pearly soft and sweet. She followed with
a luminous smile.

Sydney’s feet felt like lead. “No, it’s
okay...” She wrestled over her next move. “I have things I need to
do.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Clay said abruptly.

Well that was easy, Sydney mused,
disheartened by his quick acceptance of her departure. No argument,
no pleading, he was fine with her leaving. As she and Clay headed
out, she heard Trish murmur, “Bless her heart for coming. But my
goodness, you
do
have a lot of friends, Q.”

Sydney’s insides riled at the position she
found herself in, cast aside because she wasn’t an insider. Wasn’t
part of the family. No. She was just another friend offering
get-well wishes.

Clay walked her to the edge of the emergency
room. “Thanks for coming.” He slid a hand up and down her bare arm.
Oddly, she sensed he sought to gain more comfort from the
connection than to give. She relished the touch all the same.

“Of course. I just hope Q has a speedy
recovery.”

“He will.”

Clay dropped his hand and Sydney felt the
distinct absence.

“He was awake earlier.”

“Does he know he lost?” she asked, conscious
of the potential repercussions to his emotions but curiosity
getting the best of her.

Clay nodded. “He does. He seems to be okay
about it, but I’m sure that’s just for my sake.” She smiled at the
image of the son protecting the father’s feelings. “Will you come
by again later?”

Sydney ventured a glance back toward Q and
hesitated. Nurses idled bedside, doctors consulted charts at the
long desk, a workstation that ran half the length of the room. A
few staff members wheeled equipment out through the corridor beside
them. Everyone had something to do, somewhere to be. She was out of
place here. “Wouldn’t it be better if you three were alone, as a
family?”

“Don’t worry about her. My parents are here,
too.”

“I don’t know...”

“Trust me, there’s no love fest going on
here. Just the kin folk sittin’ vigil.”

It was the first semblance of the
lighthearted Clay she’d first met. And while she didn’t care for
the subject matter, she did like to see his spirits pick up. But
drawn back to the bed, back to Trish, Sydney couldn’t deny the
ambivalence binding her mood. The woman sure seemed pretty cozy
with him. Why else, unless she had implicit consent? She looked
Clay straight in the eye. Will they continue to be a threesome?
Envy cut into her heart. Would she be sidelined while these two
played Mom and Dad to Q’s crisis?

“Are you worried about something?”

“Me?” Caught cold, she stammered like a fool.
“
No
—I uh, er...” She shoved hands into her front pockets. “I
mean, I’m concerned about Q, yes.”

He swiped a glance back toward Q’s bed.
“There’s nothing between Trish and me, I told you.”

She dared another peek. Trish was fussing
with Q’s bed sheets, patted his knee. From her vantage point, the
woman appeared all nurture and serenity and going nowhere fast.

“Listen,” he said, growing unusually
agitated. “I know Q would really like to see you. Will you come
back later?”

Sydney wondered if Trish would be gone. She
wondered if his parents would take her place. Or Charlie. Pressure
built within her chest. Was this really the best place for her to
be? Lost in a sea of family and friends? “I’ll try.”

“‘I’ll try’ usually means no with you. How
about we go with a yes, instead?”

Sydney wanted to come back, more than he
knew. She longed to be with him, to share this crisis, to hold his
hand, help him wade through the worry, the uncertainties...

But she didn’t want to come back and sit here
while Trish laid claim to Clay as mother of his child. If what Clay
said about her having no interest in Q’s well-being was true, then
she must be here for some other reason. Sydney probed his face for
answers. Was it Clay? Was she after reconciliation? Sydney wanted
to know Clay’s true feelings. She wanted to know if he truly wanted
her here. Was it important to him that she share this heartache
with him? Her stomach flipped. Deep within, pooling in the back of
his eyes she detected the answer was yes, he wanted her here.
Yearned for her presence.

It was all she could do not to be pulled
under. “Say five?”

“Great.”

She blinked. “I’ll be here at five, then,”
she repeated, hoping he would get the message and clear the room of
unwelcome visitors—if that’s what Trish was to him: an unwelcome
intrusion on
their
time together.

“I’ll see you then,” he said and pecked her
cheek. Without lingering, without showering her with compliments or
shamelessly flirting, Clay returned to his son.

And the boy’s mother.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sydney sought the nearest exit. She had to
escape these feelings, feelings she couldn’t act upon, couldn’t
fully express. She didn’t like being caught in the middle. Trish
had every right to sit vigil by her son’s bed and Sydney had no
business wishing otherwise. After all, she was his mother. She’s
the one who
should
be there, whether Clay wanted her there
or not. The fact that
she
was having a problem with it made
her feel ugly and petty and ridiculous.

But Sydney couldn’t help herself. She didn’t
like the way the woman touched Clay, assumed a familiarity with
him. Sure they’d once been married and conceived a child together,
but that was past tense. History. Clay was
hers
now. He’d
been touching and holding and kissing
her
and that woman
should keep her wretched claws off him!

Sydney hit the metal bar for the door and
with a hard shoulder, pushed outside. She had no idea where it led,
nor did she care. She only wanted out of the hospital, out of the
stifling confines of that trio, her feelings—only the latter she
couldn’t escape. Stepping into the bright afternoon sun, she
stopped.
Where was Sam
? It just occurred to her that she was
going nowhere fast without her ride. Sydney looked around the
grounds and wondered, had she left?

She pulled the cell phone from her pocket and
punched in Sam’s number. She clenched her teeth. If only the woman
sitting by Q’s bedside wasn’t his mother. If only she were ugly.
Sydney didn’t want to be comparing herself to her, didn’t want to
wonder if Clay was still attracted to her, but how could he not be?
Trish was beautiful, stunning. Sydney had nothing on her.

“Hello?”

Sydney shoved her thoughts aside and
demanded, “Hey, are you still here?”

“I am. Just chit-chatting with Jen. You need
something?”

“I’m ready to go.”

“So soon?”

“So soon,” she said flatly. “I’ll meet you at
the front entrance.”

“Okay, but—”

Sydney ended the call before Sam could try
and convince her otherwise. She’d had enough of Clay’s family unity
for one day. Q was okay. She’d stop by later and pay her regards
and then leave. There was no need for her to stay. There was only
one more day of events and then the Rutledge family would be gone.
Clay and Q would return home to South Carolina and she could
extract herself from the situation entirely. It was a sticky
situation to be sure and one she should never have allowed herself
to fall victim to, but mistakes happen. She didn’t know a harmless
lunch would lead to dinner, to a kiss and then—

Stop
. Kicking her legs into action,
she marched around the building toward what looked like the main
parking lot. She glanced around, cars lined as far as she could see
in and around mammoth banyan trees. The front entrance had to be
nearby. She shielded her eyes from the hot glare. Clay was a great
guy and probably a great catch for any woman, but he wasn’t meant
to be hers.

And why not? Too much distance? An ex-wife
traipsing along behind them? And she’d always be there—no matter
how infrequent her visits may be. Sydney would always know there
would be a next one. Long slender legs in high heels would pop in
every now and again and check on Q, Clay. Sydney swatted the image.
And why couldn’t she hack it? What was stopping her from being with
Clay? Why was it that she’d let some self-centered female with her
own set of issues come between them, prevent her from going after
what she wanted?