Sweetest Desires (A Sweetest Day Romance)

by Beverly Taylor

  Around the corner, she spotted Carson halfway down the corridor, squatting against the wall, his face in his hands. The medical staff was too busy performing clerical duties at the central desk to notice when she crept from Katharine’s room. She cut out in the opposite direction.

  * * *

  “Carson,” Natalie cried, dashing through the automatic doors of the emergency ward.

  Carson stood, his eyes dark with grief and despair. He draped his arms around Natalie, weeping against her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nat. I’m really sorry.”

  “I know, Carson, and so does Kat,” she said, grieving with him. “Has anyone told you anything yet?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “No one’s spoken to you, told you anything at all?” she asked, fishing a tissue from her purse and wiping Carson’s eyes.

  “Not a thing.”

  Natalie tried to stuff the used tissue in his hand but he refused it.

  He smiled weakly. “Thank you for coming.”

  She lifted the corners of her mouth slightly. “I’m just glad you called,” she said, holding his hand. “How did Kat get here?”

  “All I was told is that she was brought in by ambulance.”

  “After I talked with you, I called Sadie and asked her to pick up CJ and Bethany from the after-school program.”

  Carson appreciated Natalie being there, very much. He touched her shoulder as a way of saying I’m so glad you’re here. “Thank you, thank you,” he whispered.

  A strikingly handsome stranger came down the hall with the doctor, and Carson freed himself from Natalie’s grasp. “I‘m Katharine O’Connor’s husband,” he said. “How is she? How’s my wife?”

  “You’re her—” the doctor said, breaking off and turning to the unknown man. “Well, I thought you—since you’re the one who brought her in—”

  “Uh, no, the man admitted glumly. “I’m a friend of Mrs. O’Connor.

  “I don’t understand,” Carson said. “Do you work with Kat?”

  The other man didn’t respond.

  The doctor sighed, taking in the two of them with sharp, intelligent eyes. “They’re moving Mrs. O’Connor now,” he said to Carson. “I suggest you go home, try to get some sleep and come back later this afternoon. Give her a chance to—”

  “Moving her where?” Carson interrupted.

  “Upstairs,” the doctor said.

  Carson studied the other man’s face for a few seconds, his expression puzzled but not antagonistic. Then he turned to the doctor. “I insist on seeing my wife,” he said firmly.

  “Carson! Natalie!” Stephen called from down the hall. He was hurrying toward them, almost running.

  “I paged Stephen and left a message with his secretary that Kat had been admitted,” Natalie told Carson. Then she rushed to embrace her husband. “Stephen!”

  “It’ll be all right,” Stephen said, holding her close for a moment and then pulling away to greet the men. He acknowledged Carson and Dr. Davis. He looked at the man standing close by. “And—”

  “Freeman.” He reached out to shake Stephen’s hand. “Walt Freeman.”

  “Dr. Stephen Harper,” Stephen returned, just as a nurse rushed into the waiting room. “Mr. O’Connor,” she said, addressing Freeman. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll direct you to Admissions to complete the intake forms.”

  “I’m Mr. O’Connor,” Carson said angrily.

  “Very well,” the nurse returned calmly. “Come with me.”

  * * *

  Carson followed the nurse’s rapid footsteps down the corridor into a private room. The specialist was waiting inside. He introduced himself as Dr. Lewis, neurologist.

  “Please, Mr. O’Connor. Have a seat.”

  “Wha-what is it?”

  “Please have a seat,” the doctor repeated. “I need to explain something to you.”

  Carson sat on the edge of the padded chair, alternating his stare between the doctor and the nurse. “What’s wrong?” his nervous words shook. “Is my wife going to be all right?” Clearly, he wasn’t here to sign forms.

  The doctor took in a short breath. “Your wife went into convulsion. Her heart was distressed and she had a stroke.”

  His words rang in Carson’s ears like thunder. “Stroke? Is my wife dead?”

  “Oh no, no. Nothing like that. She’s been moved to intensive care. We have her stabilized.”

  Carson sighed with relief. “Thank Heaven.” He wiped a teardrop from the corner of his eye with his finger. “But the other doctor just said—”

  The doctor’s voice was soft and soothing. “The stroke occurred after Dr. Davis left your wife’s room to check on another patient. We’re not sure what caused the seizure, but as soon as the test results come in, we’ll inform you.” Without waiting for a response, he added, “We’re hoping to prevent neurological emergencies and cardiac arrest, so we’re keeping a tight watch on her blood pressure. Just so you’ll know, she’s not out of danger yet. We can’t promise anything, but we’ll do our best.”

  After explaining why Katharine had been admitted in the first place, the physician shook Carson’s hand, and Carson returned to the waiting room.

  He looked at Natalie and Stephen helplessly. “Dr. Lewis told me to go home and get some sleep, the same thing Dr. Davis said earlier. Why do they think people can simply go to sleep when the worst things happen?”

  “Worst?” Natalie stood solid. “What happened?”

  “Kat had a stroke.”

  “A stroke?” Stephen repeated.

  Carson rubbed the back of his neck to relieve the mounting tension. “Yeah. A minor one, thank God. But she’s fine now. They’re running tests, and they’ll let me know the full score as soon as they get them back.”

  “I’ll take a look at her chart to see what’s going on,” Stephen offered. “But her primary care physician will probably not be receptive to my interfering.” Stephen squeezed Carson’s shoulder. “Kat’s in good hands, both spiritually and medically,” he said.

  “We’re not out of the woods yet,” Carson returned. “Dr. Lewis said she could go into a coma or cardiac arrest.”

  Natalie hugged him tightly. “Everything’s going to be all right. Kat’s going to be just fine. She’s a trooper.” She pulled back to remind him that she would be there for him and Katharine no matter what.

  “The doctor said they’re going to have to remove her implants immediately, that it may be the underlying cause of her problem.”

  Natalie made a tisking sound and shook her head grievously. “I knew she shouldn’t have gotten those things.” She said it more to herself, but Carson heard her clearly.

  Freeman stood silently, looking from Carson to the floor and back again. Several times, he’d opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it again.

  Carson looked at him. “What’s your name again?” He was sure he’d seen his face somewhere recently.

  “Freeman.”

  “W. Freeman?” Carson frowned.

  Freeman’s eyes met his in a silent answer.

  “That’s what I thought,” Carson sneered. What’s he doing here? he thought. Probably trying to get a scoop for the next edition to tell more lies.

  Carson’s long-dormant temper exploded like the Kilauea Volcano in the Hawaiian Islands. He punched Freeman in the stomach and then caught his jaw with an uppercut. Freeman fell backward, toppling over Natalie and crashing into a row of chairs. His lip was gashed and bleeding.

  Clambering to his feet, he charged Carson. Freeman outweighed him by about ten pounds, but Carson had the advantage of outrage. He tackled Freeman, sending him crashing to the floor. The two men rolled over, scattering the people in the waiting room, hitting each other with a ferocity that made the spectators wince and gasp. Natalie watched with wide-eyed excitement and fear.

  “Carson!” Stephen’s voice carried all the authority of his rank as the hospital’s assistant chief oncologist and his status as Carson�
��s good friend.

  Straining every muscle, Freeman broke Carson’s hold, pushed him away, and got to his feet, wiping his bloody mouth with his sleeve.

  Grabbing Freeman’s shoulder, Carson jerked him around, but not quickly enough to strike a blow. Freeman’s right fist connected with Carson’s chin, hard. Carson fell backward into the arms of a surprised Stephen. Freeman crossed the room to the exit doors as the spectators watched him in silence.

  Stephen pulled Carson away from the audience, his arm around Carson’s shoulders.

  “Cars, what’s going on, man? You have to get hold of yourself and preserve your Christian character. What hap—”

  Carson shoved Stephen away. “Back off, man. You don’t know what’s going on here,” he snapped. He looked around for Freeman, who was no longer in the room. “I’ll be back,” he said backing away. “Keep an eye on Kat. I gotta go find that jerk.” He brushed past Natalie and rushed toward the glass doors leading to the exit.

  He heard Stephen yelling, “Carson!” But it was too late. Nothing and nobody could stop him.

  * * *

  He patched up his face and knuckles. His stomach growled, so he fixed a quick sandwich and ate it without tasting a bite. The fight with Freeman troubled his conscience, so he retreated to their bedroom, got down on his knees on Katharine’s side of the bed, and asked God for forgiveness.

  Interceding on behalf of his wife, he also prayed for guidance. If he’d caught up with Freeman, there was no telling what would’ve happened, but thank God the Spirit had intervened and returned him to the stillness of peace.

  Stephen was right. He should’ve controlled his temper, but everything had poured down on him all at once like an unexpected hailstorm, hard and painful.

  But now that he could put a face with the name, he’d get Freeman to retract the article, no question.

  Chapter 40

  In another week, school would be out for the summer. Although many counties selected the first week in June for this occasion, Bethany and CJ’s school district maintained its tradition of an end of June release.

  As Deanna waited at the school bus stop, the final bell rang, and talkative, excited children rushed into the courtyard toward the yellow buses.

  She spotted Bethany skipping happily toward her bus and called her name. Bethany waved and ran up to Deanna.

  “Hi, Deanna. What’re you doing here?”

  “Carson told me to come get you and bring you to the hospital to see your mom.”

  “What’s my mom doing in the hospital?” Bethany asked in a raised voice.

  “Shh,” Deanna said, placing her finger to her lips. “She’s sick. Hurry up and come with me.” She grabbed Bethany’s hand and rushed away from the school. Bethany could barely keep up.

  “Wait, Deanna! We have to wait for CJ.”

  “CJ’s going to get there later,” Deanna lied. “My mom’s bringing him.”

  Bethany nodded and did her best to walk faster.

  * * *

  When Sadie arrived at the after-school, she found CJ first and told him his mother was in the hospital. As always, he held it all in.

  While they waited in the lobby for Bethany to come out, she told CJ to do what his mother had taught him to do at moments like this—pray.

  They’d been waiting about ten minutes when the director entered the lobby looking worried. “I’ve searched everywhere, ma’am. Your niece isn’t here.”

  “She wasn’t on the bus, either,” CJ piped in.

  “The bus that brings you here from school, do you mean?” Sadie asked.

  CJ nodded and squirmed a little. “I’m sorry. I know I should’ve said something earlier, but when you told me about my mom, I just forgot.”

  Sadie put her arm around him. “It’s all right, CJ,” she said. “It’s not your fault.” She’d been dreading seeing Bethany burst into tears, but not seeing her at all was far worse. She prayed silently for Bethany, for Katharine, for all of them.

  “When she wasn’t on the bus, I thought she’d got sick again like last time when my mom picked her up from school early and took her to the doctor.”

  The director motioned them inside. After questioning her staff and receiving hopeless feedback, she phoned the police.

  * * *

  They took a city bus all the way to the Georgia Aquarium where they sat down on one of the benches. Bethany was tired, and Deanna just wanted to think. It was still light. Deanna checked the pockets of her blazer. She was out of money, but maybe they could hitch a ride.

  “When are we going to get to the hospital?” Bethany whined. “Is it still a long way?”

  Deanna bit at the dead cuticle around her fingernails nervously. “Shut-up you little brat!” Her brows moved downward in a scowl and relaxed again. “Let me think,” she said, in a now calm voice.

  Bethany closed her eyes, shivering with uncertainty. After a few moments, she started crying, quietly.

  Deanna brooded, trying to see the point of Bethany’s existence. She wanted to have Carson all to herself just like it had been with her father.

  Again the pain, remembering. Norman had made her talk it out, cry it out, express her sorrow and anger. He’d put her to bed and watched over her sleep. Daddy, why did you have to die? I need you to be here now.

  At last, they began to walk parallel to the emergency lane on the expressway. A scraggly looking, middle-aged Latino man driving a rusty old van pulled alongside them.

  “Need a ride?” he smiled. His yellow teeth exactly matched the color of his skin.

  Deanna nodded, and she and Bethany stepped into the smelly van.

  “My mommy said not to ride with strangers,” Bethany moaned.

  “Hush,” Deanna said, nudging her.

  The air in the car was hot and rank with cigarette smoke, sweat, and mildew. Stained, ragged curtains hung over the windows.

  Now fearing for her own safety, Deanna asked, “Can you let us off at the nearest train station?”

  As soon as traffic cleared, the van returned to the expressway. “You are one very nice-looking mama,” the man said smiling down at her. He was enormous, at least two hundred fifty pounds. “You wanna rap with Pedro?” he went on. “See, you gotta be nice to Pedro. And me, I wanna make a little nice with you, mama.”

  She’d never met anyone who frightened her more, but it had to be possible to reason with him, to deal with him calmly.

  “We’d like to get out,” Deanna said, her voice fading to a thick whisper. “We’ve made a mistake.” Fear impaired her breathing and sent sweat into the palms of her hands.

  “No mistake, mama. Take off your jacket and get comfortable.”

  “Please,” she said, glancing over at Bethany. “Just let us out.”

  For some reason, her words made Pedro angry. She could see it in his eyes and felt even more frightened. Terrible things were about to happen. Nightmarish things. Her stomach was stirring, the perspiration running down her sides now, her lungs struggling as if she wasn’t receiving adequate oxygen.

  “I said to you take off your coat!” Pedro’s voice thundered. Licking his lips, he eyed her hungrily, greedily. He seemed to be dancing inside his skin without moving.

  “Here,” Deanna cried. She pulled Bethany onto her lap. “You can have her.”

  “No! No!” Bethany screamed, struggling out of Deanna’s grasp and shaking like a leaf.

  Pedro pulled off the expressway into a deserted strip mall. Deanna rammed the door open and hustled down the long, abandoned lot, flailing her arms and gasping for air. She heard Bethany’s distressed voice yelling out to her, but she kept running until her cries were silenced. Ill from the experience, she hid behind a bush and vomited, unable to control the urge.

  Fear had caused her to vomit once before when she was eight years old and learned of her father’s serious illness.

  Realizing she was safe, she paused to catch her breath before moving forward. She hunched over, holding on to her knees, chest rising an
d falling. She was out of bus fare, and Bethany, she hoped, was history. She stopped at a combination gas station and convenience store. Nervous as she was, she stepped up to the counter. The attendant looked at her hard, apparently waiting to see if she wanted to buy anything.

  “I need, uh, can you please tell me where your bathroom is?” she sought the cashier for an answer.

  “Around the corner,” he said, pointing.

  No one was in the ladies’ room. She slipped into one of the three stalls and checked for feet beneath the partitions. When she was sure she was alone, she released a heavy sigh.

  She spat into the toilet and flushed it twice before leaving the stall. At the sink, she splashed double handfuls of cold water over her face, rinsed her mouth out several times, then bathed her face again before turning off the faucet and straightening up.

  After that wild hitchhiking scene, Deanna thought she would’ve learned her lesson, but she didn’t have any money and needed to get home. Hitching a ride this time made her feel as if she’d just escaped from prison. She had to be cautious whose car she would enter.

  At last, she reached home, drenched with perspiration, her underarms soggy and cold. She could tell by the feel of the place that no one was home.

  She rushed into the bathroom and leaned over the vanity pedestal, breathing heavily and staring at her reflection. She had planned to get Bethany lost in some remote location and then desert her, but this worked out just as well. Now, with Bethany out of the way, she could have Carson all to herself. CJ had never been a threat. Only Bethany.

  An odd thought struck her. The face staring at her from the mirror seemed like a stranger’s. What had happened to the little girl who loved taking sips of her father’s morning coffee? The little girl who had sat on the edge of the bathtub, entranced, watching her father shave? The little girl who’d appeared in the mirror wearing a lovely smile—and a dab of shaving cream gracing the tip of her nose? Where had she gone? What had become of the little girl who’d called her daddy back upstairs for third and fourth goodnight kisses? She shook herself back into the present.