Mend

by Autumn Grey

  “Take a break, Remington. Go to the hotel, take a bath or shower and change,” she said when I was done.

  “I’m all right. At least for a few more hours,” I said. “Marley will be arriving from Paris soon. I want to be here to meet her.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry to break this to you, but you don’t look so great.”

  “I’m not here to impress anyone,” I retorted playfully.

  She lifted a brow. “So you’re not trying to impress her?” She pointed to the bed with her chin. “What do you think she would say if she saw you looking like this?”

  Good point, Mother. “All right.” I turned to face Adrien. He was leaning forward with one of his favorite Lego toys, walking it across the bed sheet and speaking in a low voice.

  “I’ll be back in a few hours, Adrien. Take care of Selene, all right?”

  He dropped the toy on the bed, straightened and puffed his chest. “Yes, Papa. Mamie brought a book to read for my mama.”

  I turned to look at my mother in time to see her drop her face, a soft flush creeping up her cheeks.

  “I thought she’d enjoy it,” she said.

  I smiled, stepped forward and pulled her into my arms. “Thank you, Maman.” I kissed her forehead and then pulled back.

  “It’s nothing, really.” She brushed my gratitude aside with her hands.

  I cupped her face in my hands, making sure her eyes were on mine. “It’s something,” I said firmly. She nodded, her expression softening as she studied my face. I dropped my hands and grabbed my overnight bag next to the bed. “She is good for him.”

  I smiled. “He is good for her. If anyone can pull her back, it’s Adrien.” I strode toward the door, and spared a look over my shoulder. My mother frowned in concentration as if she was trying to figure something out. I hadn’t told her about Selene’s loss yet. I wanted her to like Selene without pitying her, before she got to know about her.

  TWO HOURS later, I was dressed and pacing the floor inside the suite we had taken residence in since we arrived in Marseilles. Earlier on when I arrived, I left a message at reception that if Èric arrived, he should be allowed to come upstairs.

  After calling my mother to confirm all was well and that they had left the hospital and gone to Adrien’s usual indoor playground, I ended the call and picked up my pacing.

  The doorbell rang, startling me out of my thoughts. I strode to the door and opened it, my gaze automatically falling on the woman standing next to Èric. I would know she was related to Selene even if I hadn’t known who she was. Marley was shorter than Selene, maybe four inches at most, straight hair held in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, brown skin, and wide forehead. The only difference between her and Selene was the missing upward tilt at the tip of her nose. Selene had mentioned Marley was twenty-one years old.

  She stared at me, studying me curiously. Her eyes were bloodshot as if she’d been crying during the entire trip to France. My chest tightened, knowing I had brought this upon her sister.

  “Monsieur St. Germain,” Èric said, breaking the silence. He lifted a brow, and I cleared my throat.

  “Hello, Marley.” My voice was hoarse, choking on guilt.

  Immediately, her eyes filled with tears. She sobbed my name in a broken voice before she threw herself at me. I caught her, pulling her tight into me as her body shook with sobs. My own eyes burned with tears, so I quickly shut them tightly.

  Merde! This wasn’t the time to show weakness. Marley needed me.

  “How is she?” she whispered against my chest. I opened my eyes and stared down at her lowered head.

  I couldn’t speak. I wanted to be able to tell her that her sister was doing well, awake, ready to see her. How I hated to disappoint her though.

  She pulled back and met my gaze, her eyes so similar to her sister’s. “Remington, is she . . . is she . . . ?” She choked on a sob and covered her mouth with one hand while shaking her head.

  “No! No, she is not. She is not—” I couldn’t say the world I knew she was thinking. Dead. “Please come in so we can talk before I take you to the hospital.”

  I slid a hand around her shoulders, urging her in and met Èric’s somber stare over her head. He was suffering from his own guilt. I sighed inwardly, and guided Marley toward the living room while Èric closed the door behind us. I led her to the couch, grabbed a box of tissues and placed them on the table. Then I squeezed her shoulder in reassurance and asked her if she needed anything. When she shook her head, I excused myself, strode toward the fridge, and took out a bottle of water. Then I grabbed a bottle of Scotch, poured a shot in a glass, and downed it.

  “How are you holding up?” Èric asked.

  I blew out a breath. “Much better than a few days ago.” I glanced where Marley sat, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

  “She didn’t break down until she got here. You do have a way with the ladies,” Èric said, then quickly looked contrite.

  I chuckled, despite feeling as if I was about to jump in a hellish fire, and shook my head. I wasn’t going to bite his head off for this. We both needed relief after everything that had happened. “That’s me. The Heartbreaker.”

  He cleared his throat, as was his habit when he wanted to say something. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  St. Germain didn’t have hangar space here in Marseilles, which meant booking a flight. “I might need a lift to the airport to catch a flight to Paris at six in the morning. Did you manage to book a flight for me?”

  “Oui. I printed out the tickets for you. Your mother placed them on your nightstand.”

  I nodded. “Merci beaucoup.”

  After Èric left, I strode back to the living area, carrying a bottle of water and Scotch in a glass, placed them on the table and sat across from Marley.

  This is it.

  “Thank you so much for flying to France on such short notice,” I began, unable to find the right words for this conversation. “I want you to rest assured your sister is being treated by the one of the best doctors in the city.”

  Her lower lip trembled and she swiped the back of her hand at her face, and then straightened in the seat with her chin stuck stubbornly forward and nodded. “Just . . . tell me what happened to her, okay? I can handle it.”

  Mon Dieu, Marley was so like her sister. I remembered just weeks ago when Selene challenged me with that look. My chest tightened at the memory, but I quickly shook it off to concentrate on what I was about to tell Marley. I didn’t want to lie to her because lies are like ghosts of the past. They have a way of coming back and haunting you at the most unexpected times. Besides, I wanted her to be aware of what was happening—that she might also be in danger.

  Taking a deep breath, I told her about Selene’s condition. Then launched into the story about the woman stalking us.

  One and a half hours later, Marley and I arrived at the hospital and headed to Selene’s room. Before we left the hotel, I’d informed her there was a chance Selene could hear everything or most of what was happening around her. We needed to keep everything positive. And if a person was overwhelmed, it was advisable to leave the room. There was no way I’d allow negativity around Selene. She was already locked in a place where God knew what was happening, or what she was going through. That was enough.

  Marley nodded to let me know she was ready to enter the room. As soon as she saw her sister, she froze mid-step and slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, my God!” Her shoulders started to shake as stifled sobs escaped the hand she had over her mouth.

  Jesus, just staring brought the pain, searing, destroying me further. I took a step forward and pulled her into my arms wordlessly.

  “It’s my fault,” she said, her voice muffled in my chest.

  “What?”

  “I encouraged her to come to France. But, God, she had been so happy—”

  “Shh. It’s not your fault. And I am certain if Selene had a say about it, she would tell you the same thing.”


  She dug a tissue from her handbag and pulled back, giving me a wobbly smile. “Crap. She would probably scold me for crying.”

  “I wouldn’t put that beyond your sister,” I said, remembering my confident, sassy Selene.

  I miss her so much.

  The mobile beeped twice in my pocket, announcing an incoming call. “Are you all right doing this on your own?” I asked, digging out my phone.

  She nodded, and pointed at the mobile with her chin. “Go ahead.”

  I smiled briefly, and answered the call without checking who the caller was.

  “St. Germain.”

  “This is Dr. Hayes, Caleb Newport’s doctor,” a cool, accented voice said.

  I motioned with a finger for Marley to give me a minute. “Is he all right?”

  “That’s the reason for this call. How fast can you get to London? We need to operate soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “Tomorrow, if possible. He experienced seizures today. His body is quickly shutting down and I’m afraid of what might happen if we don’t operate soon. If you can make it by tonight, it’d be fantastic. We would like to perform a few necessary tests before the surgery.”

  I raked my hand down my face, shutting my eyes tightly.

  His body is quickly shutting down.

  Those words reverberated inside my head, causing my heart to beat faster. “I’ll catch the next flight out so I can be there as soon as possible.”

  After wrapping up the conversation, I turned to face Marley.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, frowning slightly.

  I shook my head. “I’m afraid I have to leave for London as soon as possible. My brother is in need of a kidney transplant, and I’m his donor.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.” She stepped forward with her arms outstretched toward me, and paused, looking uncertain for a second. Then, she put her arms around me, embracing me tightly. Her naturally warm personality made it easy to see why Selene loved her so dearly.

  I pulled back and nudged her toward the bed. “Go ahead. I’ll be in the hallway.” She nodded and walked toward the bed.

  Out in the hallway, I called Gilles to let him know of the new developments and that I would fly to Paris after the surgery. Then I called Luc and after that, Dom. They’d called earlier, enquiring about Selene. Both wanted to fly here and as much as I needed them, Luc was taking part in the Grand Prix in Russia in just a few days and needed to focus. Dom had taken time off and was coordinating what needed to be done at the château. When I was done, I started to pace the hallway, waiting for Marley. I wanted to spend as much time as I could with Selene before leaving for London. God, I was going to miss her. What if she woke up while I was away and needed me?

  I dragged my fingers through my hair and closed my eyes.

  Deal with one thing at a time, Remington.

  Even after repeating those words inside my head, I was restless.

  THERE WAS that voice again. So sweet, angelic, singing to me.

  Marley.

  My sweet little sister, Marley. I’ve missed you, little sister.

  A pair of huge green eyes on a cute face flashed in my head. That smile . . . I felt as if I knew him, yet I couldn’t remember exactly who he was. He smiled at me and called me ‘mama.’ I wanted to be his mom so damn badly it hurt.

  I turned to face my baby. I couldn’t live here in this little world I created for Ines and myself any longer, because I had people waiting for me. People who loved me. Besides, it wasn’t healthy. For once, I had people who needed me.

  “My sweet baby, Ines. You know I’ll always love you. I will always wish you were with me so I could watch you grow.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “This is so hard for me to say, but . . . I have to go. This little boy, whoever he is, needs me. So, baby, I have to go. I won’t ever forget you. I love you. I love you so much.”

  “BLOODY HELL, she’s crying again.” The same deep voice that had been urging me to open my eyes announced in a distressed voice.

  Someone sighed. “Monsieur St. Germain, we spoke—”

  “Yes, I know, I know.” The first man—Monsieur St. Germain—cut him off, and then exhaled in frustration. Strong fingers wrapped around mine, and then there was the feeling of warm air on the back of my hand followed by soft lips on my skin. It felt thrilling. Comforting. He whispered, “I miss you so bloody much. I love you.”

  I love you. The words were spoken in reverence, sending a jolt of joy straight into my chest.

  I opened my eyes and blinked rapidly to adjust my vision to the bright room.

  “Selene?” St. Germain whispered my name, caught between disbelief and relief. I lowered my gaze to his face and my heart tripled its beating. Black hair, stubbled jaw, green eyes so similar to the little boy’s in my dream.

  Shit!

  The glare from the lights was burning into my eyeballs. I winced and quickly shut my eyes.

  What is going on? Where am I?

  Another face surfaced in my area of vision. A man with black hair streaked in white, and brown eyes. If I could guess his age, I’d say forty-five to fifty-five years.

  His smile was kind, friendly. “Madame Michaels? My name is Dr. Blanchett.” He paused, leaned back and blinked. “How are you feeling?”

  I felt my hands move, hit something, but I couldn’t really move. Not really. Every part of my body felt heavy.

  “Doctor?” I asked, shifting my gaze to the sides, hoping to catch a familiar face, but found St. Germain’s, a confident smile on his lips. It wavered the more I studied him.

  “Selene?”

  “Who are you?” I whispered.

  The smile disappeared and his eyebrows bunched together. He flicked a look at the doctor. Why did he look so confused?

  A pain flashed inside my head and I winced, closing my eyes.

  “What’s happening to her?” St. Germain asked. His voice had a calming effect, yet I couldn’t explain why. I opened my eyes, trying to work out who he was. Did I know him?

  “I would like to examine Madame Michaels. Could you please excuse us, Monsieur St. Germain?” the man who had introduced himself as the doctor said.

  The man—St. Germain—glanced at me with a perplexed, almost hurt look before his face shuttered, leaving a blank expression on his countenance. He turned and walked away without looking back. The doctor turned to face me.

  “How are you feeling, Madame?”

  How am I feeling? “Where am I? What are you doing here?”

  He dipped his hand in the pocket of his white coat and pulled out something that looked like a pen. “Let me examine you. Then I will explain what happened, all right?”

  My breath sawed in and out of my chest as panic settled in. “No!” My legs moved on their own accord and suddenly my body was sliding out of the bed, and before the doctor could catch me, I landed on my knees on the cold floor. The door burst open, admitting St. Germain, a look of pure terror on his face. He glanced down at me and within a split second, the look morphed to fury.

  “What the bloody hell!” He stalked to where I lay, fighting off the doctor’s hands, and squatted to my eye level. I whimpered, and tried to scoot back but something was wrong with my body. I couldn’t move. “Hey, hey, Selene,” St. Germain said, the threatening expression from before falling away, replaced with a tender look. If I knew better, I would say a caring face. But what did I know? I had no idea what I was doing here in the first place. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise, all right?”

  I stared at him, tears rolling down my face, and then dropped my gaze to my lap, catching sight of something from the corner of my eye. A catheter? What the hell? I had one of these when I was hospitalized two years ago after . . . my baby, Ines. Did something happen?

  I clutched my stomach, but I couldn’t feel any tell-tale signs of a bump. Christ, why couldn’t I remember anything? Maybe these two men could enlighten me. Grabbing the thin blanket on the bed, I gla
nced up and met St. Germain’s pleading gaze as he held up both hands, palms facing me.

  “I’m not sure. What’s happening? Why am I on this bed?”

  “My name is Remington. I would like to assist you. Allow me to do that, okay?” he asked in a calm voice. I nodded.

  Gently, he scooped me into his arms and laid me on the bed. He brought his hand toward my face, and I froze, waiting. Watching. Seconds passed before he slowly swept the locks of hair off my forehead, tucking them behind my ear. Then he straightened and from one second to the next, his entire demeanor changed from soft to hard, unyielding, as he faced the doctor.

  “What happened?” Remington asked—no, growled—in a clipped tone of voice.

  “It’s normal for a patient who has been in a coma to wake up confused, panicked.”

  “I mean, why was she on the floor?” my knight in scowling armor asked, a vein ticking dangerously on his temple.

  Forgetting my own confusion, I stared, fascinated. The doctor reminded me of a deer caught between an oncoming truck and a predator.

  “I was about to perform a check to make sure everything is okay. I guess she was frightened. I would like to continue, if you don’t mind leaving—”

  “I do mind,” Remington snapped, glaring fiercely at the doctor. He folded his hands across his impressive chest, his feet planted firmly on the ground and jerked his chin stubbornly toward me. “You might as well continue the check-up. I’m not leaving.”

  The doctor sighed, turned to face me with the pen-like object in his hand. “I would like to do a check-up on you, okay? I want to make sure everything is all right.”

  I flicked a gaze at my knight. He gave me an encouraging nod. I clutched the starched bed sheets tightly to keep myself from panicking, and faced the doctor.

  Twenty minutes later, I was tucked back in bed, fiddling with the edge of the sheets as I watched the doctor scribble on a chart in his hands. Then without warning, I burst into tears.

  “Bloody hell! What’s happening now?” I heard Remington ask. The doctor said something but I was beyond hearing. I didn’t even know why I was crying. When I finally quieted down, Remington told me what happened and the doctor filled me in whenever he could. My mind was messed up. I could only remember bits and pieces; some scenes came to me clearly but a few were elusive, no matter how much I tried to remember.