Envious

by Lisa Jackson

  “Oh, John, I’m so sorry, so damned sorry,” Brynnie wailed as she, still trying to pull on her sandals, followed the attendants. “Not now, dear God, not now!”

  “Everyone give us some room!” The paramedics were loading the gurney into the back of the ambulance.

  “It’s his heart, I just know it. He can’t breathe,” Brynnie said, her eyes and nose red.

  No! This couldn’t be happening. Not after he’d survived the first attack. Bliss swallowed back tears. “I’m coming, too.”

  Brynnie climbed inside and Bliss was about to do the same when Mason grabbed her arm. “You can ride with me.” She wanted to fight him, but didn’t. Right now she needed his strength. She didn’t kid herself that he cared about her, but it didn’t matter; not until this crisis had passed.

  “What—what are you doing here?” she asked, but deep in her heart, she knew the answer. He’d come to see her father; there had been an argument. John Cawthorne had lost his cool and his already-weakened heart had quit working.

  Sirens wailing, the ambulance took off.

  “I can drive,” Katie offered, her face ashen as she glanced at her watch. “I just have time to pick up Josh and then we can—”

  “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take her,” Mason interrupted.

  Bliss was already on her way to his pickup. She couldn’t think, couldn’t believe that this was happening. First her mother’s painful death, then her father’s heart attack. Had he survived only to die a few months later? Please, God, no. Not now!

  As she reached the door of Mason’s truck, she stopped, and the damning truth hit her as hard as a belly punch. She sagged against his rig and turned on him. “Don’t tell me, Lafferty. You’re the reason my dad’s had another attack.”

  “I don’t know,” Mason admitted, his face grim as he hurried to his pickup. Mason opened the door for her, then slid behind the wheel. “I told you this place was too much for your father.” He slammed his door shut and switched on the ignition.

  “So you had to come by and badger him again.” Fear and anger took hold of her tongue. “I don’t know what it is with you, Mason, but you should leave him alone.”

  “Believe me, I am,” he said, jamming the truck into gear.

  “Oh, sure, and that’s why you came out here to pick a fight with him.”

  “I didn’t pick a fight, Bliss.” He popped the clutch and the truck took off. “In fact, if you want to know the truth, I came out here to sell the place back to Brynnie for what she paid for it.”

  “What?”

  “That’s right,” he said, slipping his aviator sunglasses onto his nose. “I’m out of this mess with your father. As far as I’m concerned he can do whatever he wants with his ranch. I don’t want it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Wait a minute. You don’t want the ranch? After all this legal maneuvering and arguing and angst?” Bliss couldn’t believe her ears. “Come on, Mason, what happened? You came out here to sell back Brynnie’s share to her and what—my dad collapsed? Give me a break.”

  “Believe what you want to believe.” His lips barely moved as he spoke.

  The interior of the pickup was hot. Stuffy. Too close. Bliss cranked down the window and looked away from Mason’s sharp-honed profile. She couldn’t think about him and the last time they’d been together; not now, not when her father’s life was in question. In the distance, the horrifying shriek of the ambulance’s siren sliced across the arid fields.

  Mason slid her a glance. His mouth was tight, his jaw hard, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel.

  She took a deep, calming breath. “Okay, okay, no more accusations,” she said. Nervously Bliss stared through the dusty windshield. Her throat clogged and she couldn’t help but wonder if at this very moment her father was fighting for his life or if, like her mother, he’d slipped away. She bit her lip and crossed her fingers. Surely she wouldn’t lose him. Not now, she thought, echoing Brynnie’s words. “Just tell me what happened.”

  “I thought we—you and I—needed to talk, so I stopped by, looking for you,” he said. “I wanted to speak to you first before I offered John and Brynnie the place back. But you weren’t around and Brynnie invited me in for a glass of iced tea. So I decided to wait.

  “I was in the kitchen talking to her when John came in from working outside.” He slid a glance in Bliss’s direction. “I don’t mean to scare you, but he didn’t look all that great. He was red in the face and sweating like nobody’s business. He took two steps into the house, saw me and stumbled. I caught hold of his arm and we both ended up on the floor.” The corners of Mason’s mouth turned down. “Your father lost consciousness. Brynnie dialed 911 and I tried and failed to revive him.”

  “Oh, God,” she said, feeling tears burn behind her eyelids. As angry as she’d been with her dad, she loved him, didn’t want to lose him. “I—I should have been there.”

  “There wasn’t anything you could have done. John won’t slow down—you know that as well as I do. He’s not happy unless he’s going twice the speed of sound.”

  “You don’t think he’s going to make it,” she said, stunned.

  “Don’t give up.” Mason placed a hand on her shoulder. “You know your dad. He’s a fighter. He was still breathing, his heartbeat still strong when the paramedics arrived.” He offered her the hint of a smile. “If anyone can beat this, it’s your old man.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. She stared out the open window and fought tears. It wasn’t like her to cry, yet right now, knowing she might lose her only surviving parent, she wanted to break down completely and shake her fist and scream and tell the whole world that it wasn’t fair.

  Mason’s hand was comforting and she wished there was time for him to fold her into his arms and tell her everything would be all right, that her father would live a robust life, that somehow she’d learn to accept John’s bride as well as the half-sisters she hadn’t known existed. And that, crazy though it seemed, they would all be one big happy family. Of course, it was a pipe dream.

  “I, uh, saw Dee Dee today,” she said, as much to break the silence as to keep her mind off her father.

  “Today?”

  “At Tiffany’s.”

  He checked his watch. “Terri said she’d drop her off for a couple of hours, but it was supposed to be later this evening. Are you sure?” Concentration furrowed his brow as they reached the outskirts of town.

  “Yes, I spoke with her.”

  “For the love of Mike, that woman!” His mouth flattened over his teeth. “Look, I’ll drop you at the clinic, then check on Dee Dee, but I’ll be back.”

  “Fine,” she said, knowing that he had to look in on his child, but feeling disappointed nonetheless. All too quickly she was becoming dependent upon his strength.

  At the clinic, Mason gunned the truck into a parking space near the ER entrance. Bliss was out of his pickup before it had completely stopped moving. “I’ll be back,” Mason promised, then drove off. Bliss nodded and straightened her shoulders. She’d get through this. Somehow. No matter what happened.

  She strode through the automatic doors and found Brynnie, ashen-faced, wringing a shredded tissue in her hands. She was seated on the edge of one of the well-used plastic couches in the waiting area.

  “How’s Dad?” Bliss asked.

  “I don’t know anything,” Brynnie responded as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes. Mascara ran down her cheeks despite her best efforts. “The paramedics seem to think it was just heatstroke, but the doctors are running tests anyway. Oh, Lordy, Bliss, I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose that man. I’ve loved him so long, and now . . . now that we finally have the chance to be together, he might . . .” She dissolved into tears, and Bliss, unable to resist, wrapped her arms around the older woman as Brynnie sobbed in earnest.

  For all her faults, Brynnie did seem to love John Cawthorne, and Bliss had trouble disliking a woman
who cared so deeply.

  “I should never have sold part of the ranch to Mason. I thought it would help, but it backfired on me. John will never forgive me.”

  “Sure, he will. Mason says he’ll sell it back to you.”

  “I know, I know, but I’m afraid it’s too late. John will never trust me again.”

  “Shh. You don’t know that.”

  “Where is Mason?”

  “He had to check on Dee Dee, but he said he’ll be back soon.”

  “He’s a good man, Bliss. No matter what your father says.”

  “I know.”

  People came and went as the minutes ticked by. After nearly half an hour, Mason returned with his daughter in tow. She looked small and frail beside him; her eyes were wide, wary, and stared at Bliss as if she were some kind of oddity.

  Mason guided his daughter to a chair by the windows where potted plants were growing in profusion and a rack of well-used magazines was propped against a post. After one last suspicious glance cast in Bliss’s direction she dug into her oversize bag and drug out a thin paperback novel. Mason nodded at Bliss, but stayed near his young charge.

  “What’s taking so long?” Brynnie asked, gnawing on her lower lip.

  “Don’t worry. It always takes a while. Dad will be fine,” Bliss assured the older woman, all the while wishing she could believe her own words and aware of Mason’s gaze boring into her. “He wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world.”

  Brynnie laughed despite her tears and blew her nose so loudly she woke a baby who was sleeping in his mother’s arms in a nearby chair. The mother smoothed the baby’s curls and softly hummed a lullaby to quiet the child who nestled even closer and sighed as his eyelids drooped again. Bliss looked away from the tender scene. Ever since returning to Bittersweet it seemed that everywhere she went she was faced with shining examples of motherhood and was constantly being reminded of her own childless state.

  “I . . . I need a cigarette,” Brynnie admitted and eyed the No Smoking sign with distaste. “You know, nowadays, they make you feel like a criminal just because you need a little hit of nicotine. Big deal.”

  “Well, this is a health-care facility.”

  “Yeah, I know. And I’ve tried to quit, but old habits die hard. Even the ones that will kill you.” She laughed again, coughed a bit and patted the edge of a tissue against the corners of her eyes.

  “Go ahead. I’ll wait in here,” Bliss said, relieved that Brynnie seemed to be calming a bit. “If there’s any news I’ll come find you.”

  “Promise?”

  “Absolutely.”

  As Brynnie walked outside, Mason said a few words to Dee Dee, then crossed the room. He hitched his chin toward the windows and beyond, where Brynnie was rifling through her purse. “She’s not so bad, now, is she?” he asked.

  “Brynnie?” Bliss sighed as she watched Brynnie shake out a cigarette and light it with trembling hands. “No. I guess not. She loves Dad.” Bliss bit her lower lip. “That much is obvious. And Mom is gone, but . . . I had this belief that marriage should last forever, that two people could be faithful for a lifetime, that . . . Oh, I don’t know.” She shook her head. Right now, nothing mattered except her father’s health.

  Mason rubbed his jaw. “I would never have guessed you for a romantic.”

  “I’m not a—Look, I just believe in commitment.”

  “Hard to come by these days.”

  She cringed inside because she knew he was telling the truth. “People just don’t try hard enough.”

  He eyed her speculatively, but didn’t say a word, and she suspected he thought her incredibly naive. So let him. She had her convictions.

  The woman with the sleeping baby was called into one of the rooms. She disappeared for a few minutes, then returned not only with the infant, but also with a girl of about twelve with a cast that ran from her fingers to her shoulder on her right arm.

  “Ms. Cawthorne?” a nurse paged.

  “Just a minute.”

  “I’ll wait out here with Dee Dee,” Mason said.

  Bliss waved to Brynnie, who took one last drag and stuffed her cigarette into the sand of an ash can filled with other used cigarettes. She hurried inside. “Come on, I think they’re going to let us see Dad now,” Bliss said, shepherding the older woman down a short hallway to a bed surrounded by hanging sheets.

  Her father, pale and gaunt, eyes slightly sunken, lay staring at the ceiling. His thin hair was mussed, his expression grim and angry. “What the hell am I doin’ here?” he demanded.

  “You—you collapsed,” Brynnie said, choking back tears. “Oh, baby, are you all right?” She nearly stumbled against the metal railing of the bed to reach for his hand. Her fingers laced with his despite the IV dripping into the back of his wrist.

  “I’ll live,” he grumbled, apparently not too happy about the prospect. “Seems that every time I wake up I’m in some damned hospital.”

  “A habit you’d better break,” Bliss said.

  Brynnie patted his arm tenderly. “I talked to Mason and he’s made me an offer to buy back the ranch and, oh, John, if that’s what will make you happy, I’ll do it. I—I had no business trying to tell you what to do or make you do what I wanted even if it was for your own good. It was stupid of me to sell out. Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

  “We’ll see,” John said with a sigh. He looked as if he’d given up on life, and a little part of Bliss died. Too many times in the past her father’s anger had taken hold of his tongue and he’d been rash, unreasonable and sometimes nearly cruel, but she’d love to see some of the old fight in him today. Instead, he looked old and beaten down.

  “The paramedics were right,” a doctor said as he pushed aside the curtain. “Heatstroke.” The name tag on his white coat identified him as Dr. James Ferris. He eyed John’s chart. “Has anyone suggested to this guy that he should slow down?”

  “Bah!”

  “Only his cardiologist,” Bliss interjected and was rewarded with a warning glare from her father. “And a few other doctors.”

  “So this is a hearing problem, eh?” the doctor joked as he picked up his patient’s chart and made a note.

  “Listening problem,” Bliss corrected.

  “I hope you’re having fun at my expense,” John retorted grumpily. “Now, when can I get out of here?”

  “Tomorrow, if you’re lucky.” The doctor clicked his pen and jammed it into his pocket. “I still want to run a few tests and talk to your doctors in Seattle.”

  “What do they know?” John complained.

  “You listen to them.” Brynnie’s lips were compressed with new determination. “I’m not about to become your widow before I get to be your bride.”

  “Hogwash. I’m not dying.”

  “Not yet,” the doctor said. “And probably not for a while. But I want you to stay overnight for observation.”

  “Doesn’t seem like I have much choice in the matter.”

  “You don’t,” Bliss said, straightening one of the crisp sheets covering her father’s thin body. He’d always been such a robust, strapping man, but now he seemed frail.

  “I’ll stay with you,” Brynnie promised.

  “He’s going to be moved to a private room. We’ve only got a couple here, but one’s empty and I can’t see sending him to the hospital in Medford. The room’s on the other side of the admitting desk and down a short hallway. Room three. You can wait for him there if you want to.”

  “Oh, go on. Go home.” John grimaced as he shifted on the bed and Bliss was reminded that he was a terrible patient, hated being sick or laid up, had no tolerance for anyone who tried to wait on him. But at least she caught a glimpse of the man he used to be, the man who’d spent his life giving orders rather than receiving them. Good luck to the nurses who had the night shift.

  “I will in a minute,” Bliss said, patting her father on the shoulder.

  Brynnie didn’t budge. “I’m sticking around. You couldn’t get rid of me if
you tried, John Cawthorne.” A heavy-set nurse had to walk around her to check Bliss’s father’s blood pressure, temperature and IV drip. Brynnie glanced up at Bliss. “You run along, now. I’ll take care of your dad.”

  “I don’t need anyone taking care of me.”

  “See, he’s getting better already.” Brynnie winked at Bliss. “I think someone’s waiting for you.”

  “Who?” John demanded. “Oh, for the love of Mike, don’t tell me that Lafferty’s here!” Color boiled up his neck and cheeks.

  “Oh, calm down, or I’ll call that doctor and have him admit you for the rest of the week,” Brynnie warned.

  “I’ll see you later, Dad.” Bliss brushed a kiss against her father’s temple and he patted her hand.

  “You’re a good kid.”

  “Remember that when I insist you follow doctor’s orders.” Feeling as if an incredible weight had been taken off her shoulders, she hurried to the waiting area where Mason had taken a seat and was involved in an argument with a preteen boy who sat stubbornly next to Katie. Dee Dee was still in her chair, legs crossed, pretending to be absorbed in her book, though her eyes peered over the tops of the pages as she watched her father.

  “You have to show some respect, Josh. Not only for your mom, here, but other people as well.”

  Josh—Katie’s son, Bliss assumed—was pouting and at Mason’s crisp words his lower lip protruded another half inch.

  Katie saw Bliss and was on her feet in an instant. “How’s John?” she asked, her face a mask of worry.

  “He’ll be fine. Heatstroke.” Bliss filled them in on the details and Josh dug at the carpet with the toe of his worn sneaker. Katie introduced her reticent son, then pummeled Bliss with questions while Mason, arms crossed in front of his chest, expression dark and serious, listened intently to every word she said. There was a part of him she didn’t know, couldn’t understand, a mystery that she hadn’t unraveled. Would she ever? she wondered and found herself staring at the hard slant of his jaw and the thin seam of his mouth. Did he care for her as she had begun to care for him? Or was his interest solely because of the ranch and this need she sensed in him—a need to outdo the man who had fired him years before? How much of John Cawthorne’s speculation—that Mason was only using her as a way to get to her father—was true?