by Lund, S. E.
I told him about Sam and how Drake had a previous a sexual relationship with her that she seemed intent on rekindling, despite knowing he was engaged. I told him how Drake seemed unaware of it and unconcerned, brushing aside my fears and jealousy. How she had undermined my self-confidence with her cutting remark about me being a 'mousy little thing' and how I had found her trying to give Drake a massage.
I told him about Sefton and how he had been so rude, making comments about my relationship with Drake that were completely inappropriate, how he knew private details about our relationship, and how he alluded that I would be happier with him if he was my fiancé instead of Drake. I told him how almost attacked me. How he had challenged my view of myself as an artist, suggesting that my work was technically skilled but not really 'art' and how that had thrown me, making me re-evaluate my self-concept as an artist. I also told him that, perhaps, his comment had led me to re-evaluate my drawings and possibly -- probably improve my piece.
"So you see, Daddy," I said, his hand in both of mine. "I need you to get better. I need you to recover so you can be around for a long time."
I sat with him for a while, my stories finished and watched him breathe, listened to the sounds of the ICU, the beeping from machines and alarms, the hiss of ventilators for the patients who were intubated.
Finally, Elaine came to the door and opened it, peering in at me.
"Honey, they need to do a check of his vitals. Come on out and have some coffee. You must be thirsty."
I nodded and leaned down to kiss my father and then I followed her out of the room. We embraced outside the door while the nurses went in to do their check.
"Come on," she said as she took my hand and led me to the waiting room where Drake sat, a coffee in his hand.
Drake stood and came to me, pulling me into his arms, rocking me slowly in comfort. "How are you?" he said in a soft voice. He pulled back, brushing hair from my forehead. "Why don’t you let me go in and visit him for a while. Have something to eat."
"That's a good idea, Kate," Elaine said. "Let Drake go in for a while."
I nodded and let go of him, following Elaine to a coffee shop that was still open so I could get a sandwich. We sat at a small table and I forced the food into my mouth, forced myself to chew and swallow but my throat was dry and I had to wash everything down with iced tea.
"Drake spoke with Dr. Clark, your father's neurosurgeon, while you were in with him. Drake's really pleased with him and says he's one of the best. We're so lucky to have him as Ethan's doctor. He really is one of the tops in the field in all of the US, even the world, according to Drake. He's been so devoted to Ethan, dropping in frequently to check on him and to reassure me."
I nodded and sipped my iced tea, thinking about my father's neurosurgeon and how people must feel towards Drake the way Elaine felt towards Dr. Clark. We mere mortals were so reliant on the expertise of these specialists to save our lives or make them more livable. It humbled me a bit to realize this. I had always been impressed with Drake, with how in-demand he was because his skills were so rare and specialized. Now I understood it from the point of view of a patient who must be like so many of Drake's patients, waiting to find out how a loved-one is doing, hoping for the best outcome.
"If Drake's pleased, then he must be good," I said, feeling somewhat more calm knowing that Drake was confident in the neurosurgeon's skill.
"I'm so glad that Drake was able to get away," Elaine said. "To drop everything on such short notice and come to Manhattan." She shook her head as if in amazement. "I can't tell you how relieved I feel to have him here. He's such a source of information and he has such a great bedside manner."
I smiled. "Drake loves Ethan like a father," I said and Elaine nodded. "I was going to leave him in Nairobi but he insisted on coming. He got someone to teach his class today and was off this weekend anyway so all he had to do was find someone to scrub in on his cases on Thursday night. I expect he'll go back as soon as he knows Daddy is stable."
"Still," Elaine said. "It's amazing that he did. I can't thank him enough. For the short time you were in with your father, Drake was able to explain everything to me in layman's terms and alleviate my concerns. He said that he would read your father's file and talk with everyone on his medical team and have a report for me."
"He's wonderful," I said, my throat constricting.
"He's a keeper," Elaine said and smiled, repeating the words she'd said to me that fateful day when I was first with Drake. "I said that before and I'll say it again. I know it won't be easy to be married to a specialist who is in such high demand as Drake, but he loves you, Kate." She took my hand and squeezed. "He dropped everything to come here with you."
"I know," I said and squeezed her hand back. "He is a keeper."
We walked back to the ward and I glanced in through the window on my father's room. Drake was sitting where I had sat, my father's hand in his. He was talking to my father, and I wished so much to hear what he was saying. Was he telling my father about our life in Nairobi from his point of view? What would he be telling my father? About his new job, about his class, his patients, our home?
I sat in the small waiting room with Elaine and waited for him to finish his visit, closing my eyes and listening to the sounds of the hospital. Elaine was on her phone speaking with one of my father's supporters, relaying information about his condition, her voice hushed as she said he probably wouldn't be able to run in the election after all.
That admission made me choke up and finally, I couldn't hold it back and tears rolled down my cheeks. Elaine saw and reached into her bag to hand me a tissue. I mopped my eyes while she said goodbye to whomever she was speaking, and finally, when she hung up, she put her arm around my shoulder.
"It's OK sweetie," she said, her own voice cracking. "He's in the very best of hands and now he has Drake to watch over him. We have to hope and pray for the best. He's in God's hands now."
I nodded, but I didn't believe in prayer or God – not after Mangaize, my faith dying along with all the tiny babies. I wanted to believe. It would be so much easier to believe, but I couldn’t. I said none of that to Elaine, not wanting to push my own doubts and lack of faith on her. Instead, I nodded like a good girl and forced a smile. She had enough to worry about without adding me to her list.
"When's Heath getting here?" I said. "I tried calling but Christie didn't answer."
"She's staying with her family in Hawaii, and Heath is trying to wrap up his work in Haiti, but he's so busy, he can't just leave."
"What? His father had a stroke – of course he can leave. Drake left!"
"Don't be mad," Elaine said. "Before he went unconscious, your father told me he didn’t want you or Heath to come."
"What?"
She nodded. "He only wanted you back for his funeral. I disobeyed his wishes and called both of you. Heath decided to say and finish his work before coming."
I shook my head, angered that my brother didn’t come right away. I couldn't understand how he could stay away, with my father so ill, even if my father wished it.
Drake finally emerged from my father's room, wiping his own eyes briefly before pulling me up from the chair and into his arms. He buried his face in my neck and squeezed me tightly.
"Are you scared, too?" I said, rubbing his shoulder. "I thought you really liked Dr. Clark."
Drake pulled back. "Of course I'm scared, but Aaron's the best for this kind of injury. Ethan's bleed was deep in the brain. It still all depends on whether the ablation was successful and that will only be clear in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours."
I nodded and hugged him more closely. "I'm so glad you were able to come after all."
"Of course I'd come. Ethan is like my own father."
We sat in the waiting room while Elaine went back in with my father.
"Wait here for a moment," Drake said and went to the nursing station. He spoke with the duty nurse and used the house phone. He spoke for a while to s
omeone and then thanked the nurse before returning.
"You must be tired. I've been able to finagle one of the extra on-call rooms for you if you want to rest for a few hours. There's nothing much else to do here."
"What about you?" I said, rubbing his shoulder. "You must be just as tired."
"I'll lie down a little later. I want to go meet with Ethan's nurses and read his chart first."
"OK," I said. I went to the room and spoke to Elaine, telling her what we were doing. She waved me off and said she would stay in the waiting room as she had done the previous night. Her place was with my father.
Drake took my hand and led me through the halls to the small room with a set of bunk beds and a night table and lamp. Here, tired residents went to take a sleep break on their long shifts. It was free until much later and so we had it for the entire night.
I lay on the bed and Drake pulled the blanket up over my shoulder. He kissed my cheek and tucked the blanket in.
"I'll be in later to check on you or let you know if there's any news." I nodded and I was so tired, I was almost asleep before Drake even left the room.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I slept the entire night through.
When I woke, I sat up and switched on the bedside light and checked my cell. It was 7:39 in the morning. At least nothing bad happened in the night or Drake would have woken me, but I felt very guilty that I alone was able to sleep. Drake hadn't come in to sleep nor had Elaine.
I found a bathroom down the hall and quickly washed my face and used a travel toothbrush in my toiletry kit to give my teeth a quick brush. My hair was a mess, so I pulled it back into a loose bun, and scrubbed my face with cold water.
When I made my way back up to the ICU, I caught sight of Drake speaking with a doctor wearing scrubs, a cap and a white lab coat. He had glasses and greying hair and looked to be in his fifties. It must have been Dr. Clark. The two men spoke together, Drake standing with his arms crossed, listening and nodding while the other man relayed information, ticking things off on his fingers. I stood off to the side and tried not to distract them, but instead, listened in to see if I could hear anything.
"…likely some permanent damage … extensive rehabilitation… no cognitive impairment but we won't know for sure until later…"
I heard Drake thank the man, whom he called Aaron, and the two men shook hands. Dr. Clark rested his hand on Drake's shoulder.
"He's strong and generally fit so if there's no complications in the next day or two, he should do fine."
Drake caught sight of me and waved me over. I went to his side and faced Dr. Clark.
"Kate, this is your father's neurosurgeon, Dr. Aaron Clark. He's probably the very best in the entire country in dealing with your father's kind of stroke. Aaron, this is Kate McDermott, Ethan's daughter and my fiancée."
Dr. Clark extended a hand and smiled warmly at me. "Your father is a strong man. I hear he's a former Marine. They're tough as nails so I expect him to pull through. Despite the second bleed, everything looks pretty good, so as long as the next few days are without any major complications, he should be fine."
"Thank you so much," I said and shook his hand. "We're so lucky to have you."
"Glad to be of help."
"You look very tired," I said, noting his bleary eyes, which were bloodshot. "Were you up all night?"
He smiled. "Had an emergency surgery overnight. I'm on call this weekend and sometimes I don't make it out until Monday morning. Depends on what comes through the door." He turned to Drake once more and extended his hand. "Well, I have to go check in on a patient. I'll let you know if anything changes."
Drake shook his hand again and then Dr. Clark was off, stopping in at the nursing station to speak with the nurses. I watched as he walked away down the hall, urgency in his step, his white lab coat billowing out behind him as he went through the doors to the other ward. That was Drake when he was on call, visiting patients and their families, checking in on the most critical cases to see how they were doing, consulting with the medical team, scrubbing in on a case that interested him or taking a case when it was busy.
I remembered what I said to Sefton about Drake – his job was important. It was more than a job and not something like being an artist that you could do at your own schedule. Drake held people's lives in his hands. He was responsible for the survival of a beloved father or mother, curing a child's debilitating disorder, restoring them to full function – for some of them, maybe for the first time in their lives. As we stood in an embrace, doing nothing other than enjoying the contact, I felt so lucky to have him here with me, to help Elaine and me sort through my father's care and recovery.
But I also knew that he had to go back as soon as my father was no longer critical. Drake had students waiting for his insights, for his expertise. He had patients who waited months – some of them years – to see a neurosurgeon with his very unique skill set with robotic technology.
I looked up at him, emotions for him filling me – gratitude that he was here, that he was so competent, that he was so willing to take control and make sure we were looked after. That he knew enough to be able to reassure us about my father, his condition and his care.
"I love you," I said, my voice catching.
He leaned down to kiss me, his lips tender against mine. When he pulled back, a hint of a grin started at the corner of his mouth.
"Not that I'm complaining, but to what do I owe this declaration of your love, Ms. Bennet?"
I shook my head, unable to speak for a moment as emotions overwhelmed me. Finally, I responded, my voice breaking.
"I'm so glad you're here. I don't know what I'd do without you. I'd be frantic."
"Of course I'm here," he said and frowned, as if he was perplexed by my words. "Do you really think I would have stayed in Nairobi?"
"But you have skills that are so specialized and in demand. You have students who expect you to be in class to teach them. And you have patients like my father, and families who rely on you to save their lives."
He chuckled for a moment, shaking his head as if he was surprised at my words. "I am pretty fabulous, if I say so myself."
"You are," I said, and punched his shoulder playfully. "You're amazing, Drake Morgan."
He touched my cheek. "How could I send you off by yourself, all the way from Nairobi to New York, in the state you were in, alone? How could I not come with you, find out for myself how your father was so I could help you deal with whatever happened? I couldn't stand to be back there not knowing anything. Not able to see for myself. Not able to be with you." He shook his head. "Nothing could have kept me from coming with you."
With that, he kissed me warmly, and soon the warmth became more passionate as if his emotions overcame him. He pulled me closer, his arms squeezing my body against his.
"I love you," he said to me, his eyes burning into mine. We stood there, forehead to forehead, arms around each other.
"Hey, you two lovebirds," Elaine said from the waiting room entry. "He's waking up."
I let go of Drake immediately and followed Elaine, a jolt of adrenaline flowing through me, making my heart pound.
"That's good, isn't it?" I said to Drake, who followed me. He reached out and took my hand.
"Yes," he said. "It's a good sign, but don't be upset if he has trouble speaking at first. There will probably be lingering effects from the stroke. It may take a while for his speech and other functions to come back fully."
I looked through the window into my father's room and saw the nurse was talking to him. His eyes were half-open, and she was checking a monitor, recording something on a small piece of paper.
"What's she doing?" I asked Drake.
He watched her for a moment. "Recording his vitals."
When the nurse came out, she smiled at us. "One of you can go in with him. Don't try to make him speak too much. He can only whisper." She walked away with a smile.
Elaine and I looked at each other. "You go," we
both said at the same time.
"I think we can break the rules this once," Drake said and shoved us both in. He stood in the doorway and watched as Elaine took one side of the bed and I took the other.
"Hi, Daddy," I said and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I'm so glad you're waking up."
He turned his head slightly, but his eyes remained half-closed.
"Chatty Kathy," was all he said, referencing the talking doll he gave me as a child, which he inherited from his sister when I was born. His voice was like gravel, but I could swear one corner of his mouth, on the good side of his face, was turning up a bit in a smile.
"You heard what I said?"
"Every word," he replied in a raspy voice. His eyes were closed but he was smiling. I glanced over at Drake, who was grinning, his arms crossed.
I leaned down and pressed my forehead against my father's cheek, smiling, emotions threatening to overwhelm me. I held them in check because I didn’t want him to see me cry.
"Sorry I talked so much, but I wanted you to know how much I need you."
"Wasn't going anywhere," he managed, talking out of one side of his mouth. I glanced up at Elaine and she was covering her mouth, her eyes teary.
Then, the nurse returned and leaned in, giving Drake a mock-serious frown.
"Dr. Morgan…" Then she turned to us. "OK, you two. Only one at a time."
I kissed my father on the cheek. "I have to go now, Daddy, but I'll be back later. I love you."
"Love you," he managed. I squeezed his good hand and then left Elaine alone with him. Drake put his arm around me and led me over to the waiting area for family. He pulled me into his embrace and I didn’t care anymore about trying to stay strong. I cried into his shoulder, my tears of relief falling unrestrained.
"It's OK," he said and rocked me in his arms. "He's going to be OK."
I hugged him even more tightly, unable to imagine life without either my father or Drake, glad that, at least for now, I didn't have to.
