Winter Winds (9 page)

Trev blinked and turned his attention to Pop. Like Dori he had to be distressed to see their rock lying listlessly with a nose cannula supplying oxygen
and an IV line feeding nutrients, but he didn’t let it show. He walked to the bed, leaned over, and planted a kiss on Pop’s forehead. Then he took the man’s hand, the one with the IV inserted in the vein. Trev held it carefully, just as Dori held his other hand.

“How are you feeling?” Trev asked.

Pop raised an eyebrow. “How do you think?”

Trev grinned. “Yeah, I know. Dumb question.”

“I’m lying here on my deathbed—”

“This is not your deathbed!” Dori rose to her feet in protest. Her chest felt as if it were being crushed in a vise. She could hardly draw a breath. “You are not dying. You’re not! You aren’t allowed!”

Pop smiled sadly. “I wish it were that simple, dear heart. We know that’s not the case. God does with us as He wills.” He closed his eyes, worn out. Even with the oxygen his breathing was labored. The gray cast to his skin scared Dori almost as much as his abject weariness.

Oh, God, we can’t lose him! How will we manage without him?
This time she didn’t even apologize for bothering God.
Make him better!
she demanded, then apologized and added,
Please!

She closed her eyes, determined to hold back her tears. The last thing he needed was a weepy granddaughter. But it hurt so much seeing him like this. She brought her free hand to her heart, her fist clenched so tightly that her nails cut into her palm. She started when she felt a hand on her back, rubbing gently, making small soothing circles.

Trev. He’d come to stand behind her, to care for her. Her already jangled nerves kicked up a notch, but the panic over Pop slowly receded.

“I’m going to be sick,” Pop said suddenly.

Dori grabbed the call button and pressed.

“That pan,” Pop muttered, swallowing. “Get me that pan. Fast.” He pointed to the plastic washbasin resting on the windowsill.

Trev grabbed it and held it under Pop’s chin. Pop tried to raise himself on his elbows. Dori moved to support his shoulders and hold him steady.

Pop made a distressed noise and out gushed a fountain of bright red blood.

Terrified at what this evidence of a hemorrhage might mean, Dori turned horror-filled eyes to Trev who was staring in distress at the pan.

With a sigh, Pop went limp under Dori’s hands, and she helped him lie back down. She grabbed some tissues, dampened them in the water jug by the bed, and wiped his mouth.

“Feel better,” he said.

“Where is that nurse?” Trev demanded, still holding the pan full of scarlet fluid.

Dori bolted from the room and raced to the nurses’ station. “We need help! Mr. Trevelyan is vomiting blood!”

A nurse nodded. “Be right there.” She turned and spoke to the man making notations on a chart. “Dr. Rosen, Trevelyan in 326.”

Dr. Rosen nodded his white head without looking up. “Be right there.”

Hurrying to Pop’s room beside the nurse, Dori asked, “Has this happened before?”

The nurse waved her away. “Wait out here.” And the door slid shut in her face. In a minute Trev was beside her, ejected too, and Dr. Rosen rushed in.

Dori stared at the closed door, her hand pressed to her lips to hold back a sob. Her Pop!

Trev slid an arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. Without a second thought, she burrowed against him, needing his comfort, his warmth to ease the chill around her heart. She slid her arms around his waist and held on, feeling almost as lost as the little girl who had clung to him all those years ago. Fatigue and jumbled emotions brought tears to her eyes, more than could be contained, and they poured down her cheeks.

Trev lowered his head and rested his jaw against her hair. “Shh, Dori. Don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry. I never could.”

Dori sniffed and smiled sadly. He should have seen her when she first moved to San Diego. And with that thought came the memories and the resentments, the hurts and dashed expectations. She straightened her shoulders and pulled away from him.

“Thanks, but I’ll be all right.” She heard the coolness in her
voice, and so did he. He stepped back, and she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes before he shuttered his expression. Deliberately he stepped back again, putting an even greater distance between them. If he stood much farther away, she’d have to yell to him.

Sighing, Dori turned and walked down the hall toward Phil who, blissfully unaware of the latest crisis, stared intently at the parking lot. Trev followed. Phil didn’t become conscious of them until they were beside him. Then one look at their faces erased all interest in whatever had occupied him out the window.

“What?” he asked, his body tense, his voice brittle.

“He’s vomiting blood, lots of it,” Trev said.

Phil grimaced and started toward Pop’s room.

Trev caught his arm. “We’re not allowed in at the moment. The doctor’s looking at him.”

Behind them the elevators opened, and Honey stepped out. Again their faces gave rise to fear. “What?” she whispered.

Dori hesitated, hating to tell such bad news, but Trev told the situation straight out. “He’s vomiting blood.”

Honey shut her eyes and swayed. Phil threw his arm about her waist to steady her. “Easy, Honey. Easy.”

“I’m all right.” Honey centered her fist just below her ribs. “Right here is where it hurts him. He had a lot of pain for a whole day before he told me. Last night it finally got so bad he couldn’t deny it anymore. It had spread upward, and he was finally willing to admit he might be having a heart attack. He still didn’t want me to call an ambulance. Then he threw up. I thought it was the first time, only to learn later that it wasn’t. Aggravating old man.” The affection in her voice made the pejorative statement sound like a compliment. “Anyway, while he was occupied, I called 911. They were there before he was back in bed, and he threw a fit. But I don’t care. I can be as stubborn as he is if I have to be.”

Trev leaned down and kissed her cheek. “He’ll forgive you.”

Honey made a snort of disagreement. “I don’t know. Maybe. Eventually.” Then she turned to Dori. “Come here, sweetie. I haven’t had a chance to welcome you home.” She held out her arms.

Dori fell into them. Their comfort was uncomplicated and real. “Oh, Honey, I’m so sorry.”

Even Dori wasn’t certain what she was sorry for, but everyone acted as if it was Pop’s illness she spoke of.

“Aren’t we all,” Honey answered, she, too, addressing many issues.

“Excuse me.”

They all turned to find Dr. Rosen standing by them, his wire-rimmed glasses and white hair making him look like a scholar. Dori would settle for a very smart, very competent physician.

“We’re going to take Mr. Trevelyan up to surgery immediately.” Dr. Rosen gestured toward Pop’s room.

They all nodded and began walking toward his room with the doctor.

“What do you think it is?” Honey asked.

Dr. Rosen shook his head. “I’m not certain, but it’s not an aortic blowout. That would obviously be the most dangerous, but if that were the case, he’d have been gone before now.” He shrugged. “We’ll know soon, and you’ll know as soon as I do.” He waved briefly and was gone.

Honey nodded. “Thank you,” she called after him.

The four of them filed into Pop’s room and found him already on a gurney sides raised, ready to be wheeled away.

“One minute.” Pop held up his hand to stay the orderly ready to roll him off to somewhere in the depths of the hospital. “There’s something I have to say.”

“Please, Seth,” Honey said, taking his raised hand in hers. “Just go along with the plan for once in your life. We’ll deal with that other issue later.”

Dori swallowed her grin. It was rare that Honey challenged Pop, but when she did, the role reversal always tickled her.

Pop smiled at Honey, love for her bright in his eyes. “Now. I have to say this now. You know that. What if I don’t get another chance?”

She flinched at his last words but nodded her head. “Okay, go ahead. I know you won’t have any peace unless you do.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” Pop whispered to her, his eyes bright with tears.

Honey laid a tender hand on his head. “And I love you, Seth. Now go ahead. Say your piece, and get to wherever it is they’re
taking you. I want you fixed up and out of here. It’s too lonely at home without you.”

He gave her one more weak smile, then turned his eyes on Dori. She blinked at the intensity of his gaze. He might be weak and pale, but his will was as strong as ever. Then he switched his concentration to Trev who looked as startled by the force of his will as she had.

“It’s time for you two to stop playing whatever game it is you’re playing.”

Dori stiffened. “What-what are you talking about?”

“As if you didn’t know.” Pop looked at her with disappointment, something she’d rarely ever seen, and it shook her deeply. She dropped her eyes.

“I know you two are married,” Pop said.

How strange it sounded so bluntly stated. And how did he find out? She’d never told anyone, and she doubted Trev bragged about the fiasco.

Pop’s weary voice continued relentlessly, all the more compelling because of its weakness. “I know you love each other.”

Dori pressed her lips together. That was a debatable thought if ever she’d heard one.

“I want you to reconcile.”

Yeah, right. Just like that
.

“I want you to live together as husband and wife for the next six months.”

Dori’s mouth fell open. Live together for six months? They’d barely been able to manage a weekend. How would they ever manage six months? She snapped her mouth shut. The answer was simple. They wouldn’t.

“It’s what I wish more than anything in the world. In fact, it may be my dying wish. I’m going to be sick again.” The last was fast and panicky. He turned his head and more blood flowed from his mouth all over the gurney and onto the floor.

Honey grabbed an unsoiled corner of the sheet and began wiping his face. “Easy, Seth.” She leaned over and kissed his sweating forehead. “You go on, dear heart. I’ll deal with the children from here.”

He gave her a tired but grateful smile and closed his eyes. “Please,” he whispered. “For me.”

As the orderly pushed Pop down the hall and into the elevator, Dori knew she and Trev had the proverbial snowball’s chance in that eternal hot place to escape Pop’s machinations. Whether they liked it or not, they were doomed to six months of excruciating cohabiting.

God, what have You done?

“Honey,” Trev said into the silence that followed Pop’s leaving, but Honey cut him off.

“Whatever you planned to say, Trev, I don’t want to hear it. I want you to be quiet and listen to me for a change.”

Dori stared at Honey. She’d never heard the woman speak with such an edge before.

“Pop has waited patiently for you two to come to your senses.” Honey looked from Dori to Trev and back. The warmth of her welcome was now gone, replaced by a determination that made Dori shiver. “He’s agonized over your foolishness, as have I.”

Foolishness! Dori felt her temperature rise. Honey went on relentlessly. “In all this time, neither of you has moved for a divorce. That says something to Seth and me, and it should to you two, too.”

Phil spread his arms wide like an evangelist sharing the truth of the gospel. “They still love each other.”

Both Dori and Trev turned on him. “Shut up, Phil,” they barked, almost in unison. Phil merely grinned.

Honey nodded. “I agree. They still love each other.”

So what’s love got to do with anything? Dori shut her eyes. She felt so weary. Besides, the issue was trust.

“How did Pop find out?” she asked. Any topic to get away from the subject of love.

Honey looked at her. “We’ve known of your marriage almost since the day you two said
I do.”

“And you never said anything?” Dori was floored.

Honey shrugged. “We were waiting for you to come to us.”

Dori shook her head. “Not after you and Pop told me—” Her voice drifted away as Trev spun to her.

“You too?” he asked. “One of us would have to leave?”

Dori nodded.

He turned back to Honey. “Not a good basis for sharing our secret, you’ll have to agree.”

Honey didn’t look the least embarrassed or repentant. “We did what we had to do. You were kids. But even though you had your share of boys chasing you, Dori, and you had an eye for a beautiful woman, Trev, it was obvious that for each of you there was no other.”

Dori felt the blood drain from her face at hearing her feelings stated so baldly—and correctly. But Honey was wrong about Trev. Once a ladies’ man, always a ladies’ man. She knew that all too well.

“Marriage is such a private thing,” Honey said, “and marriage troubles are even more so. Every couple has to work out their problems themselves.”

“Then let us,” Dori cried.

Honey looked her in the eye. “Maybe if we saw either of you trying, we would. But you’re too stubborn and Trev’s too accommodating. We’ve gotten tired of waiting. In fact, I’m now convinced we waited much too long. We kept hoping you’d come to your senses on your own.” Honey snorted, a strange sound coming from a classy woman like her.

Trev shook his head, his mouth turning up in a sardonic smile. “I wonder why we ever thought you wouldn’t find out.”

“What we don’t know,” Honey continued, “is why Dori took off almost immediately.”

Dori smiled with tight lips, hugging herself against the ever-expanding pain of this conversation. All she knew was that she was not about to tell Honey or the eagerly eavesdropping Phil what had driven her as far from Seaside as she could get. She’d gone to the airport, backpack in hand, and looked for the most distant destination available. The choices were southern California or the Seattle, Washington area. Warm and sunny versus cool and rainy. With her spirits so drear, the decision was easy. San Diego. And she hadn’t regretted the choice even once. The reason for the need to choose, yes, many, many times, but the choice itself, no.

“When you left, Trev went to pieces,” Phil said suddenly.