by Lund, S. E.
I heard the water running in the bathroom. He was running us a bath as promised. My body warmed at the thought, for we hadn't had sex since we left Nairobi. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, but Drake peeked into the room and shook his head.
"You stay there and let me take care of you. You've been neglecting your health for the past week."
I sighed and lay back, closing my eyes. He wanted to take care of me? I'd let him. I surrendered myself over to him – whatever he wanted, I was willing to accept. He went to the living room and turned the music system on, playing some soft classical music – Debussy. I smiled. He knew what I loved.
Finally, he came back over to the bed after removing his coat and boots, and started to undress me.
I tried to help him with the buttons on my cashmere sweater but he stopped me. "Let me do this, Ms. Bennet. You’ve been such a devoted daughter, you've hardly done anything for yourself. Let me pamper you."
I stopped trying to help and lay limp while he removed each article of my clothing, one piece at a time, kissing my newly exposed flesh. When I was down to my bra and panties, he leaned over me, his hands on either side of my head and kissed me warmly.
"I've missed you," he said, his voice husky. "I often thought of sneaking into the resident's room and waking you for a quickie but I didn't have the heart to interrupt your sleep. You look so tired and stressed out."
I sighed as he picked me up and carried me into the bathroom. "Frankly, sex is the last thing on my mind and has been since I got Elaine's message."
"I know. I won't push you. Let me take care of you."
I slipped out of his arms until my feet touched the floor, saying nothing while he stripped off my bra and panties so that I stood naked in front of him.
He said nothing, and then helped me into the bath, before rolling up his sleeves and kneeling by the tub.
"You're not going to join me?"
He shook his head. "This is all about you, not me. If I was to get in with you, I wouldn't be able to hold back."
I smiled and watched him as he took a bar of soap and started to lather up his hands. He washed my shoulders and neck first, then my arms. He rinsed me off with a pitcher of clear water, and then proceeded to wash my feet, one at a time, then my calves and knees. I watched him the whole time, my eyes never leaving his face. He studiously avoided my eyes, and I could see he was trying hard to concentrate on what he was doing.
"Kneel," he said and helped me into a kneeling position. Then he washed my breasts, his hands lingering over them, stroking them as if he was trying to ignite enough desire in me that I'd ask him to make love to me. I merely watched and enjoyed his strong surgeon's hands. He then washed my back and buttocks, sliding his hands between my thighs to wash me there, his eyes on mine, his breathing increasing. Finally, he rinsed me off once more and helped me out of the tub. I couldn't help but notice his erection straining at his jeans, but said nothing. He used a soft towel to dry me off, wiping my skin with gentle but thorough hands. Then, he led me to the bed once more and after he pulled back the covers and laid a large beach towel over the sheets, he helped me to lie on top of it on my stomach.
"Massage time," he said. I sighed and laid my head on my folded arms, waiting for the massage to begin. He removed his jeans but nothing else, his button down shirt still on with the sleeves rolled up. He straddled my thighs, poured some oil onto my back and began massaging me, his hands firm but gentle. He started at my neck and slowly moved down, over my shoulders and down my spine. He did a really thorough massage, and seemed knowledgeable about how to do it. I dozed off, I was so relaxed, and when he finished my back and started to turn me over, I blinked awake.
"Falling asleep on me, are you?"
"You give good massage," I replied, smiling, my eyes closed.
"Could you fall asleep right now?"
I yawned and nodded, snuggling down into the sheets. "I'm so tired…"
I heard him sigh, but instead of trying to get me into the mood, he merely pulled the covers up over me and left me on the bed. I was too relaxed to even speak and lay in the warmth of the bed, my muscles all relaxed, my breathing slow and deep. I heard the splash of water as he got in the tub and then after what seemed like only minutes, the lights dimmed in the apartment and the music stopped. When he crawled into the bed, naked, I was drifting off. I turned on my side, my back to him and he spooned against me, his arm around my body, hand under my breast as he always liked to lie. I felt his erection pressing against my back, but he did nothing.
"Good night, my love," he said, and kissed the back of my neck.
"Good night," I murmured, feeling safe and warm and relaxed for the first time since we arrived back in Manhattan.
After another long day at the hospital, during which time my father seemed to improve steadily, so that he was even able to stand for a few minutes with the help of a walker, we took Drake's car back to 8th Avenue and this time, because I had such a good sleep the night before and was relieved to see my father doing so well, I responded when Drake took me in his arms and kissed me deeply. Soon, we were taking off each other's clothes, impatient to be naked, him walking me backwards to the bed while I unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans.
"God," he said, his voice breathless. "I feel like a teenage boy with his first girl."
"You don't feel like a teenage boy," I said, my hand stroking along his hard length. "You feel like a very excited man."
"I am very excited, Ms. Bennet. So excited, I think I have to tie you up to keep you from interrupting me with your social commentary."
Just when Drake kissed me again, his hands slipping up my naked body to cup my breasts, the phone rang. I immediately jerked back into full consciousness and tried to get up, but Drake held me. The answering machine clicked on at the third ring. It was Elaine.
"Drake, Kate, please call me right away. Ethan had another seizure and they've taken him down to get a CT."
I scrambled out of the bed to get to the phone but the answering machine clicked after she hung up and I picked up the receiver, gasping in dismay.
"Damn," Drake said and was immediately all business. He began buttoning his shirt. I was shaking already, my legs weak from fear.
"Oh, God," I said and looked in his eyes as I pulled on my bra, which he handed me. "He's had a seizure? Why? What would cause that? Another bleed?"
"Hard to say. After a hemorrhagic stroke, a patient is at a greater risk of developing seizures," he said, reaching for his jeans on the floor. "The area of the brain affected by the stroke sometimes misfires, leading to a seizure."
I stopped him as he bent to pull on his own clothes, my arm on his. "Will he die?"
He pulled up his jeans and shook his head. "If this is only a seizure and not the result of another bleed, he most likely will survive. But I can't say for sure unless I know the cause of the seizure. He's got the best surgeon in the country looking after him. If anyone can deal with this, it's Aaron."
I finished dressing, and then went to the washroom and brushed my hair back, fastening it into a loose bun. My gut clenched, a sinking feeling filling me. This was bad.
I felt tears threaten, but bit my lip to stop them. When I left the washroom, Drake was already in his boots and coat. He held my coat out for me. I pulled it on without a word and together, we went to the car.
We didn't talk on the way to NYP. Instead, we held hands, taking comfort from each other. I wanted to pray, but had so little faith that it felt false, but I did recite the 23rd Psalm, which I had learned as a child and which had always comforted me regardless of whether I believed it.
Once we arrived on the ward, there was nothing to do but wait for Elaine to return. She'd followed my father to the radiology department to wait while he had his CT. Drake spoke to the nurse, who said that they got the seizure under control and were doing the CT to check for a new bleed or swelling on the brain that might have caused the seizure. Drake sat back down with me and I couldn't help
but feel as if I were being punished for leaving the hospital and enjoying myself with Drake.
"I shouldn’t have left the hospital," I said, emotions overcoming me finally. "I should have stayed here."
"Nonsense," he said softly and put his arm around my shoulder. He lifted my chin with a finger and looked in my eyes. "This had nothing to do with you or me. It was a complication, not punishment from God. It was a setback. A certain percentage of people who have one event will have another. Usually, most don't. Ethan did. The surgeons will go in and fix it. End of story."
I nodded, but didn’t believe him, still too shocked to think rationally, despite my best attempts.
Elaine returned about a half an hour later and slumped down onto the couch across from us.
She leaned her head back and sighed heavily.
"How is he?" Drake asked.
She rubbed her eyes and then sat up. "He's OK. There wasn't another bleed, so that's good. There was some swelling in the brain around the malformation, so they've got him on a medication to stop the seizures and reduce the swelling. They're going to keep him really sedated for a while, so he can recover."
"He's going to be OK?" I said.
She nodded. "Dr. Clark said this does happen and they have medications to deal with it. He said Ethan should recover from this in a few days and then we can start over."
I nodded and relaxed a bit, the tension draining out of me. Like Drake said, a setback. Not a life threatening one, but a complication from the bleed.
We sat in silence in the tiny waiting room, our minds all preoccupied with my father, his progress over the past days and how he'd do now, after this lapse.
In about an hour, they took my father back to his room on the ward. We took turns visiting with him, and I held his hand once more and told him that I needed him to get better and be there for me.
It was late Friday night when I finally said goodnight to my father and went out to the waiting room.
"We might as well go back to the apartment," Drake said, but he said it in such a way that suggested he knew I wouldn't be going back.
"I'll sleep in the extra resident's bunk, if it's available."
He sighed. "I'll go check."
Drake left me alone, and I went to the family bathroom and brushed my teeth. When he came back, he handed me the key to the room.
"At least let me sleep in there with you," he said. "I don’t want to go back to the apartment alone, especially on our last night here."
"You mean your last night here. I'm not going back, Drake. I thought you’d already realize that. I can't go back to Nairobi now. Not after this setback."
He sighed and stared in my eyes, as if searching for some hint that I might be persuaded otherwise.
There was no way.
"No," he said and made a chopping motion with his hand as if to cut off further discussion. "I don't want us to be separated. I told you that when I gave you that collar, and I meant it. You're father's better. Aaron said so."
"Drake," I said, exasperated with him. "I have to stay."
"I have to go back. I've already taken a week off…"
"That's your choice."
He said nothing. Instead, he glared at the far wall, a muscle in his jaw pulsing. Finally, he exhaled heavily and his shoulders sagged.
"My flight leaves tomorrow morning at 7:00, which means I have to be there at 5:30. I have to go to sleep now, if I'm going to make it. I want to sleep with you."
Together, we walked to the resident's on-call room and while Drake brushed his teeth in the staff washroom, I took off my pants and socks, and got into bed wearing only my t-shirt, bra and panties. I slipped as close as I could get to the wall, my back to the room and waited for him to join me.
When he finally turned off the room light, I felt him creep under the covers and slide over closer to me.
He wrapped an arm around me from behind, his mouth pressed against his bite mark on my shoulder in a kiss.
"I hate this," he said, his voice soft. "I hate leaving you. I hate going back to our home without you."
"I can't leave now."
"You could if you wanted," he said, his voice tinged with hurt.
"You could stay."
Drake tossed and turned beside me, his sigh of exasperation mirroring my own. Finally, perhaps an hour later, I heard his slow, deep breathing and knew he'd finally fallen asleep.
In contrast, I laid awake most of the night, fear for my father's life robbing me of sleep.
The alarm on Drake's cell went off, the beep beep beep waking me from a dead sleep. He sat up and stretched, yawning before switching on the bedside lamp. He left me alone in the tiny room while he went to the washroom to freshen up. I sat up in bed and then pulled on my jeans. Part of me felt sad that he was going and I wouldn’t see him for a while, but the other part of me, the frightened daughter of a seriously ill father, could only think that I had to stay no matter how upset it would make me to be separated from Drake.
When he came back, I went to do my own freshening up. When I returned, he had two cups of coffee for us, fixed as I liked it, and together we went up to the ICU to check on my father before Drake took a taxi to the airport. According to the nurse at the desk, my father had a good night, with no further seizures and we would be able to see him after morning rounds.
"Can I pop in before I go?" Drake asked, leaning over the counter, his expression earnest. "I have to leave now to catch a plane and won't be able to speak with Aaron."
The nurse hesitated for a moment, but then she nodded. "Sure, Dr. Morgan. If you were still working here, he might even be one of your patients, so go ahead."
Drake slipped into the darkened room and stood by the bed beside my father. Elaine was slouched on a chair beside the bed, asleep. As I watched through the window, Drake took my father's hand in his, his fingers around my father's wrist. He glanced at his watch. He was checking my father's pulse. I saw my father waken and turn his head slightly.
Drake leaned closer and spoke to my father and I wished so much to hear what they were saying. Then Drake leaned closer and kissed my father on the forehead. He kissed my father… The unaffected side of my father's mouth turn up in a smile. His lips moved a bit and Drake leaned down as if to listen more closely.
Drake loved my father, of that I was sure. That's why I couldn’t understand how he could leave now, leave me and my father when everything was still so uncertain. When he turned and left the room, I couldn't look at him for fear I'd break into tears. He stood in front of me for a few moments, not saying anything, waiting.
Finally, he sighed. "Are you even going to say goodbye?" I shook my head, biting my lip to stop from crying. "Kate, come back with me now. I have two tickets."
"I can't. I have to stay."
"I have to go."
I still wouldn't look at him because I felt the need to sob, and I hoped he would go before I broke down in front of him.
He reached down and lifted me up, kissing me deeply, his arms wrapping around me in a tight embrace, his breathing fast as if he was really upset. Finally, he pulled away and set me back down without looking at me, which was just as well, because my vision was completely obscured by tears.
He grabbed his coat and left. And then, I broke down and cried like a baby.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
My father was sedated for most of the next day, the medication used to control his seizures making him too sleepy to even talk. Other than relieving Elaine when she needed a break, I sat in the waiting room and read books and watched videos on my laptop, but I couldn't concentrate and would read the same page over and over again as I waited for news on how my father was doing. I didn't get to actually speak with my father until the third day. Most of the time, I let Elaine stay with him and didn't ask for any time with him. I'd relieve her when she was tired, for she'd slept on the chair in his room every night and was exhausted.
After morning rounds, while he'd been ferried here and there by orderli
es for various tests, I went in to see him.
The first barely audible words out of his mouth were a scolding.
"Should have gone," he said and gave me his version of the evil eye with the one eye that was still open. "Belong with Drake."
I took his hand and smiled, so glad to hear his voice even if it was feeble.
"I would have been unhappy to leave you here and go back to Nairobi. I had to stay."
"He's your life now," he said, his voice raspy, his words slow. "Not your old man."
"You're my father. You can bet if Liam was still alive and in your position, Drake wouldn't be going back to Nairobi."
My father didn't say anything at that.
"Score," I said and licked my finger, making a point in the air.
"Not good to sleep apart."
"I had no choice," I said, wiping away some drool that had accumulated in the corner of his mouth. "I want to be with Drake, but circumstances forced me to stay."
"No," he said. "Heath's back. He can give Elaine a break. You should go now."
"Heath's not back yet," I said, still angry at my brother for not returning from his trip to Haiti at the first news of our father's illness.
"Go to him," my father said, his voice insistent.
"Why is it you men think you should make all our decisions?" I said teasingly. "I can decide for myself what I'll do."
"Don’t kid yourself," my father said, his eyes closed, but the good side of his mouth turned up a bit. He spoke softly and very slow, struggling with each word. "When men like Drake and me love someone, we can't stand to be without them."
"Men like Drake and you?" I said, smiling, my voice mock confused. "And what are you and Drake like, if you don't mind me asking?"
