Rescue Me (a quirky romance novel about secrets, forgiveness and falling in love)

by Allan, Sydney

  She nodded, still facing the window. "I know."

  One hand steering, he reached with the other one and took her hand in his. The action felt so right and so natural it made him smile.

  She finally turned her head, first dropping her gaze to his hand, which lay on top of hers. Her fingers curled over the top of it and she squeezed. Then, she looked up, scowled and tugged her hand from his grip, turning away from him again.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I was trying to help," he said into the heavy silence pressing upon his head and heart. He could swear he heard every inch as it swept by them.

  "It's okay. Really."

  "Do you want to talk about it? I've been told I'm a good listener." He tried to keep his voice upbeat and casual, but knew he failed miserably.

  The remaining miles were spent in silence, but once they pulled into his driveway, Hailey smiled softly, taking him by surprise.

  "On second thought," she said, stepping from the car. "I think I will accept your generous offer of hospitality."

  Uneasy with having her in his home another night, he watched her climb the stairs and wait at the front door.

  Chapter 6

  Misery hidden behind the fakest smile she'd ever worn, Hailey waited at the top of the stairs for the strangely alluring doctor who'd forced his way into her life. Somehow, he'd managed to drag her back to the city she had vowed never to step foot within, and he had turned her brain to mush. All in a little more than thirty-six hours. If she weren't so overwhelmed, she might have found him amusing.

  He finally stepped from the car and strolled up the sidewalk, stopping next to her. With his head tipped down, he eyed her, caution and curiosity reflected in his expression.

  She beamed in return, sending his brows even closer over his aristocratic nose.

  She laughed, not so much because she felt like it. No, if anything, she felt like crying. Hard, long, soul-shattering sobs. But the laughter would have to suffice, and as crazy as it was, it actually made her feel better. When the surge of cachinnation ceased, she cleared her throat with a soft cough and waited for him to open the door.

  He stepped into the foyer and turned on a light. "Would you like something to drink? I have soda, beer, wine--"

  "Do you have any tea? I could use something warm and sweet right now." She followed him to the kitchen and watched him sift through the contents of a cabinet. Her vision blurred, and she mindlessly stared through him, thinking of her sister. "How's Heidi?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

  He spun around, an orange box of herbal tea in one hand. "She's doing okay--is excited about the procedure."

  She nodded, and an icy cloud enveloped her like a frigid, damnable shroud. Her hands covered her face. Her eyes stung. "It shouldn't be like this, you know?" Her voice sounded muffled and broken.

  A pair of hands, warm and comforting, settled on her shoulders and drew her forward a couple of steps. Her body leaned into his, and the cold shell around her heart cracked. Her self-control shattered as well, as sobs hurled from her soul, filling the room with bitter sounds of her grief.

  He held her, ever so softly and gently, as though she was composed of the finest china. His kindness only heaped guilt on top of her misery. All he'd ever wanted to do was help Heidi. He'd never done anything self-serving. Yet she'd been so damn determined to prove something--what that was, she'd forgotten--she'd made almost every minute over the past three days completely wretched.

  Soon, the welcoming waves of calm washed away the turbulence, and she could trust herself to speak. "I'm sorry," she whispered into his chest. She couldn't look up, didn't want to see the expression on his face, which she was sure would be either pity or cool detachedness. She couldn't live with either.

  But he didn't let her stay huddled and hidden. He gently forced her chin up with an index finger, until her tear-hazed gaze met his. "No, I'm sorry." His blue eyes glistened, and his full lips quivered slightly. Deep furrows lined his forehead. "I've been a jerk, treating you the way I have."

  That was not what she'd expected. She stepped back and smudged away the remaining tears chilling her cheeks and tickling her jaw, searching the vivid depths of his eyes. She didn't know what she expected to see there. The truth, perhaps. Who this man really was. He wasn't like any man she'd met before.

  "Are you for real?" was all she could say. She regretted the words the minute she spoke them. "I mean, I've been such a pain in the ass, and you've done nothing to deserve it, and--"

  He shook his head and palmed her face, gently running his thumb over her lip. The provocative touch startled her for a moment, and her breath stilled. Her heart fluttered like newly-hatched butterflies.

  Something in his face eased her, a genuineness, guilelessness. He wasn't out to take advantage of her, she realized with relief. He was just showing her kindness. Friendship.

  "I want to help you," he said. "Will you let me?"

  She nodded. "I don't want to hide from my sister. I mean, I will if that's what she wants, but she's sick, and I don't think it's right--"

  His smile stopped her cold, and she realized she was rattling on again.

  "Sorry," she muttered, dropping her gaze to his chest. "When I'm upset I tend to chatter." She stared at his tear-stained golf shirt with the country club logo emblazoned on the pocket.

  "I've seen worse faults." He stepped away, leaving her feel empty all over again. He found a mug in the cupboard, then went to the sink and filled it with steaming hot water from a separate tap.

  Watching, she said, "I've seen those do-hickeys on TV but never saw how they worked. That's pretty nifty."

  "Yeah, it's handy when you like tea or instant coffee. Nothing beats a pot of home-ground, percolated coffee, but I usually don't have time to brew a pot. I'm not a tea-drinker, but I keep a box handy for when I have company."

  She nodded, suspecting who the company would have been. Heidi liked tea too.

  After placing her cup, saucer, spoon and tea bag on a tray, he found some cookies, and made himself a cup of coffee. He led her to the relative darkness of the den, a cozy room paneled in deep mahogany with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining a long wall. A fireplace sat at one end, a cozy couch and ottoman facing it.

  Rainer set the tray on the ottoman and motioned for her to take a seat on the couch, then handed her the cup and saucer. "Sugar?" he asked, standing before her.

  She shook her head and watched him fill nearly half his cup with the white granules. A smile pulled at her mouth. "You'd better watch that stuff. It'll kill you."

  "I've done worse." He sat, stirred his coffee with the same slow, thoughtful motion he'd used when they'd met at the restaurant. "Now, will you tell me what happened between you and Heidi? Tell me everything. I want to help."

  Hailey swallowed, but it wasn't the tea she forced down her throat. She bit into a cookie and considered his question. Yes, she could tell he wanted to help her, but would he, once she explained it all? Or would their newfound, tenuous friendship, something that was suddenly more valuable than she liked, be shattered into a thousand jagged-edged shards by the truth?

  She wouldn't lie.

  Maybe she could tell him a little. Not too much, and nothing specific. She swallowed one more time, caught a deep breath as though readying herself for a plunge into icy water, and prepared to speak.

  ###

  Rainer waited patiently, at least he hoped he looked patient. Inside he was a mass of confused emotions. Never had a woman done that to him, and he didn't know what to make of it. Was he reacting to the situation--the fact that his dear friend lay near death in the hospital? Did he pity them both? He couldn't answer his own questions.

  How would he help them?

  "It started right after we finished college," she said, her voice strained and shaky, her eyes hidden under long, sooty lashes and heavy eyelids as she gazed down at her cup.

  "Okay," he said, trying to sound encouraging without being pushy.

  "We
decided we would go into business together--had dreamed of it for ages--correction, Heidi had dreamed of going into business together for ages. Or maybe it was mom." HaileyShe shrugged and sipped her tea. "It doesn't matter much. The end is the same. It didn't work. Hell, it destroyed us."

  "How?" he asked, leaning forward and wishing his movement would draw the rest of the story from her. "Can you tell me what happened?"

  She shook her head slowly. "No. I promised Mom I'd never talk about it, never dredge it up. It's done. It's over. And nothing's going to change." She fingered her cup's golden rim and fell silent. After a few moments, she added, "I'm sorry it came to this. Who would have thought..." She sniffled.

  Frustrated with her refusal to tell him more, but understanding she needed time and patience, he handed her a napkin. She set her teacup on the ottoman and patted at her eyes and nose, both growing redder by the second.

  He didn't know what to say. What to do. Being a family practice doctor hadn't prepared him for this--for helping a patient's family member, a friend's family member--through the kind of grief cancer brought. Usually, he referred patients to a specialist, and they heard the worst from that doctor.

  Patient, friend. It didn't matter now. His personal experience told him nothing he said would be good enough.

  This was Heidi's twin sister, the woman she'd been close to, had loved for over twenty-five years.

  There had to be a way...

  The paper napkin quickly turned to a sopping wet, wrung out mess, and he handed her a second one.

  She silently thanked him, with a chuckle and a sloppy smile. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm reacting like this. She's going to be okay." She breathed deeply, the air leaving her chest in a loud huff, and looked into his eyes. "She's going to be okay."

  He nodded. "I think she will. We still need to wait for your test results to make sure you're clear to donate."

  "Make sure?" Her face paled. Her brows huddled together over her nose. "What would disqualify me? I'm a perfect match."

  "Well, you could have an infection, cancer, or have antibodies your sister doesn't have."

  "God."

  "All those possibilities are unlikely. You don't have AIDS or any serious infections. You haven't been ill."

  Her hands trembled as her fingertips traced her mouth. "What about the leukemia? Could I have it too?"

  "There is a small chance."

  She nodded.

  "It's very slim, if that makes you feel any better. The type of cancer your sister has is usually linked to exposure to some sort of toxin."

  "I don't care if I do. Hell, I probably deserve it--"

  "Don't do that," he interrupted, drawing her hands from her face. He held them gently with his fingertips. When his thumb brushed the back of her hand, a jolt of heat shot up his arms. He ignored it, refusing to release her and refusing to acknowledge it or question what it meant.

  She gazed down and then at his face.

  "Don’t wish yourself sick," he continued. "It isn't going to happen, and it isn't going to help anyone. You need to be strong. Strong enough for both of you."

  She tugged her hands free from his light grasp and picked up her teacup again. "You said something about antibodies?"

  He watched her drink before answering. "Yes. For example, you're both Rh negative. If you were pregnant with an Rh positive child, you could have developed antibodies--"

  The cup fell to the floor, its contents spilling, the delicate china shattering upon impact. He looked up at her face.

  Her lips were the color of milk and shaped in a broad "O". Her hands, trembling even more than they had before, partially covered her mouth and cheeks.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "Oh, God."

  He leaned forward and, taking her hands in his again, slowly eased them down to her knees. "What's wrong?"

  "I was pregnant. A couple of years ago." She blinked away tears. The shimmering wetness slipped from the corners of her eyes, trickled down the sides of her nose and mouth before dripping from her chin. Her eyes closed, she tipped her head back. "When will it end?"

  "When will what end?"

  "The punishment," she said, her gaze fixed to his. "Is it certain? Does the body always produce antibodies in pregnancy?"

  "No. Not always."

  "When?"

  His knees ached from his elbows jabbing into them, and he realized he'd been sitting that way for a long time. He let go of her hands and leaned back, settling himself into the couch cushions. A part of him wanted to ask more. Was burning to know what had happened. When had the woman sitting before him been pregnant, where the child was...

  Instead, he switched to his clinical self and said, "When an Rh negative woman is pregnant with an Rh positive child, there is a small chance some of the unborn child's blood could be mixed with the mother's during the pregnancy. That risk is increased in birth and during a miscarriage." He watched her as she mentally digested what he said, then added, "But if you received Rhogam shots, the risk is dramatically lowered."

  "It is?"

  He nodded. "You did have the shots then, didn't you?"

  "I think so. I don't remember. It's very hazy."

  Those words brought dozens of questions to mind, but he kept them to himself. This woman was not only a mystery, but also an anathema. He shouldn't allow himself to be drawn in by her intrigue, couldn't afford to make another mistake with a woman.

  Most importantly, he couldn't hurt Heidi. What if she was in love with him, for God's sake? There was no way he could live with another death on his shoulders.

  Two was more than enough for one man to bear.

  Determined to distance himself from Hailey, he stood. He smiled as he spoke, hoping it would soften his hasty departure. "I'm sure your test results will come out fine, and we'll be scheduling the procedure in the next few days. In the meantime, you need to get plenty of rest, take care of yourself. You're no good to anyone if you become sick."

  ###

  Hailey stood, anxious to get away from the man before her. Anxious to hide from his interrogation, anxious to hide from the feelings he stirred. "You're right. Good night, Rainer." Turning from him, she brushed past him to the door. The scent of his cologne made her pause for a split second before she continued across the room. Without glancing back, she called before she stepped into the hallway, "See you in the morning."

  Once safely tucked away in her room, in his guestroom, she changed into a pair of sweats and slipped into the cool bed. But, of course, the Sandman's arrival wasn't hasty, and she lay wide-awake for hours. Memories of she and Heidi as children played through her mind, and memories of the past day, too. All were unsettling.

  Occasionally, she peered at the red glowing numbers on the digital clock. Midnight, two A.M., three-thirty, four-thirty... She felt as though each minute lumbered by, heavy as an elephant.

  The weightiest question, the one that came to mind the most, was not whether Heidi would survive. She wouldn't allow herself to question that. It was a given. She had to.

  No, the question that came to mind over and over was whether Rainer and Heidi had been lovers. For some reason, whether her sister and Rainer had been involved mattered to her. More than she liked to admit. His behavior wasn't typical of a doctor. It wasn't typical of a friend, either. None of her friends in Sequoia Valley would fly across the country and drag her unwilling sister back with them, would they?

  She sat up, frustrated with herself. Annoyed by her thoughts. What difference did it make, anyway? Who cared what past Heidi and Rainer shared? She didn't. She had a great life back in California. She had great friends, a gorgeous home, a business of her own, a new marine mammal rescue shelter to build.

  Besides, after she donated her stem cells, Rainer would be a distant memory. Her trip to Detroit would be a distant memory. The chemistry that zapped between them would be a distant memory.

  She hoped.

  Certain she wouldn't be sleeping, she got out of bed, showere
d, dressed, packed her bags and readied for the trip home. A long flight, and no one to chat with like she'd had on the way to Detroit. A cold emptiness settled upon her, making her even more frustrated and annoyed.

  She loved her life, darn it! She had everything she'd ever wanted. What did she need with a controlling doctor, a sister who hated her and a mother who refused to acknowledge her presence upon the earth for the umpteenth time in her life?

  Her garment bag slung over her shoulder, she crept down the stairs. When she reached the foyer, she set it down and rummaged through her purse for her wallet. The ride to the airport would take at least an hour. A taxi would probably cost at least thirty dollars. She had to make sure she had that much cash on hand. She'd foolishly thrown that hundred away, something she'd never normally do.

  "Going somewhere?" Rainer's sleepy, deep voice sounded, sending pulsing heat up her back.

  She didn't stop what she was doing. "Yes. I have a flight to catch."

  "Your flight doesn't leave until two--this afternoon. It's six-thirty. I don't think you need to be there seven hours ahead of time, although security's tight and check-in is slow."

  "I thought I might be able to fly stand-in on an earlier flight." She slipped her wallet from her purse and opened it, cussing when she found only twenty dollars. She shouldn't have been so careless with her money. That one impulsive action had left her nearly cashless, at Rainer's mercy. Now, she realized what a fool she was for not having an ATM card.

  What had been her objection to them? Darn if she could remember anymore. Funny how some beliefs looked so stupid, even pointless, in different circumstances. At home, she had no problem getting to her credit union when she needed cash, and she'd brought all the cash she'd thought she would need for a couple of days.

  How would she get to the airport?

  "How about putting your travel plans on hold for an hour or so. You should eat some breakfast. I bought some juice and bagels. Thought you might like some. Flying on an empty stomach isn't the wisest thing to do."