[The Sons of Lily Moreau 02] - Taming the Playboy

by Marie Ferrarella

  It was better this way. Better for him, for her.

  Better that he should—

  He heard the door swing open and then bang on the opposite wall asVienna screamed out his name. His heart froze.

  Instantly, he came running back to her. He knew without being told that the look on her face had nothing to do with what had just happened between them.

  “It’s my grandfather.” Her throat was so tight with fear, she could hardly get the words out, hardly get any air in. “This way—”

  Clamping on to his hand, she ran back so fast, she was all but dragging him in her wake.

  Amos was in the kitchen, lying facedown and unconscious on the floor.

  “He’s not breathing,” she sobbed. “I tried to make him breathe, but I can’t.” Dropping to his knees, Georges dug into his pocket. He threw her his car keys. “I’ve still got that defibrillator in the trunk of my car.” Silently he blessed his mother. “Get it,” he ordered as he began manual CPR.

  Trembling,Vienna missed the keys when he threw them. Picking them up, she dashed outside. She was back almost before she left. “Here,” she cried, dropping to her knees beside him with the defibrillator in her arms. “Do something,” she begged. “Bring him back.” She knew how unreasonable that sounded, but she didn’t want to be reasonable; she wanted to be a granddaughter. Amos’s granddaughter.

  “I’m trying,Vienna , I’m trying. Plug it in,” he told her.

  Once the defibrillator was sufficiently charged and up and running, Georges picked up the paddles.

  “Call 911,” he told her. “He’s going to have to go back to the hospital.”

  For a split second, she felt paralyzed. She could only stare at what Georges was doing. “But he’s going to be all right, isn’t he? Isn’t he?” she demanded.

  “I’m doing my best,” he shouted. “Now make the damn call!”

  By the time she’d gotten the dispatch’s promise to send an ambulance right away, Georges had gotten her grandfather’s heartbeat back.

  Rocking back on his heels, feeling more drained than the man lying before him, Georges told her, “It’s beating again.” She didn’t realize she was crying until then. Her cheeks were wet and a teardrop fell on her collarbone. She wanted to throw herself over her grandfather, to hold him close to her and will her life force into his. But she was afraid if she did, the jarring motion might do something to change the status quo.

  She was afraid to even breathe. Moving forward, she took the old man’s hand in hers. “You live, you hear me, old man?” she instructed through gritted teeth. She had to blink twice in order to see him. Her eyes were filling up with tears. “You can’t leave me to handle everything, Grandpa. It’s not fair. I need you. You have to live. I need you,” she repeated, her voice breaking.

  She could have sworn she saw the tiniest of smiles curve the old man’s lips just then. He’d heard her, she thought, clinging to that thought as if it were a life preserver in a choppy, erratic ocean. He’d heard her. He was going to live. Never once had her grandfather denied her anything she’d asked for.

  Her grandfather was going to be all right. She wouldn’t let him not be. The diagnosis came as no surprise. Amos had had a massive heart attack. Although they’d gotten his heart to begin beating on its own again, the coma he’d slipped into continued, mocking every effort Georges attempted to bring him around.

  One day came and went, bringing another in its wake. There was no change in Amos’s condition.Vienna sat by his side, keeping vigil. Other people came to the hospital to visit him, a great many people. Raul had put out the word that the friendly Austrian baker had taken a turn for the worse after seemingly being on the mend.

  Because Amos had been placed in the coronary care unit for proper monitoring, visitors were supposedly restricted to two per hour for a total of five minutes each. No one paid attention to the rules. The nurses complained to them, toVienna and to the doctor, all to no avail. Eventually, since the visitors were quiet and respectful, if persistent, the nurses surrendered.

  And through it all, there was a growing concern not only for the comatose patient, but for the young woman who sat, waiflike, holding his hand, talking to him and praying. Unable to cast a blind eye to what was happening before her any longer, the head day nurse, Chantal Reese, a twenty-six-year hospital veteran, not to mention the grandmother of five, decided to voice her opinion. Placing her ample figure in his path before Georges could walk down the corridor to Amos’sroom , she completely stopped him in his tracks.

  He looked at her quizzically. “Something wrong, Chantal?”

  “Yes, something’s wrong. It’s that girl.”

  “Girl?” he repeated. “The old man’s granddaughter.” Before he could ask what she was talking about, she told him. “Dr. Armand, in the last three days, she’s hardly moved out of that chair. Lord knows I haven’t seen her eat anything, just drink a little water now and again. She’s going to need one of our beds herself soon if she keeps this up.” Though the other nurses swore the woman ate new hires for lunch on a regular basis, there was nothing but compassion in Chantal’s wide, dark face. “Can’t you talk any sense into her?”

  He’d been concerned aboutVienna himself. But every time he thought of telling her to go home, something in her eyes forbade him from making the suggestion. Over the last three days, she had been getting progressively more fragile.

  “I can try,” he told the nurse. “But she’s a very stubborn young woman.” Chantal snorted, waving a dismissive hand at his protest. “Never known any woman who wouldn’t listen to you once you got that sweet tongue of yours in gear, Dr. A.” She gave him a knowing look.

  “You give me way too much credit,” he told her as he began to walk away.

  “Not from what I hear.” Her words followed him down the corridor. That, he thought, was all behind him. Though he hadn’t had much interaction withVienna these last three days, except at her grandfather’s bedside, he found himself in a kind of limbo. Free to resume the life he’d once led but with absolutely no inclination to do so.

  Georges walked into the small cubicle allotted each patient within CCU. There was hardly enough room for proper maneuvering. At the moment, space was being taken up by a myriad of machines that kept tabs on every vital function the human body offered up for viewing.

  Viennawas in a chair beside her grandfather’s bed, holding his hand just the way she had been every other time he’d walked in. For a moment, she seemed oblivious to him. She was talking to Amos as if he was just asleep rather than comatose.

  Chantal was right, he thought.Vienna ’s face appeared to be getting gaunt. Just as he was about to say something to her,Vienna raised her eyes to his. “He won’t wake up,” she told him. Her voice was so incredibly sad that it threatened to break his heart. Letting out a ragged breath, she gazed back to the old man in the bed. “I shouldn’t have left him.” Each syllable was so pregnant with guilt.

  “When?” According to Chantal and the other nurses on duty,Vienna hadn’t left the old man’s side for more than a few minutes in three days. She pressed her lips together, trying to gain control over herself, over her voice. “The night we were supposed to see the play. I shouldn’t have left him,” she repeated. Despite her best efforts, a tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. “If I’d been there—”

  “He would have still had his heart attack,” Georges told her firmly.

  He refrained from putting his arms around her, although the urge was strong. Ever since her grandfather had been brought there, it was as if she was steeling herself against any human contact. All her energy seemed to be focused on being with her grandfather. On willing him to health.

  “But I could have gotten help for him faster. Who knows how long he was on the floor like that before I found him?” she sobbed. Precious minutes could make the difference between life and death. She’d heard that over and over again. She’d been berating herself these last three days,
wondering when hergrandfather’d had his attack. Was it when she was making love with Georges? When he was undressing her? When they lay there in each other’s arms?

  If he died, she was never going to forgive herself for failing him. For putting her pleasure above his health. She’d known he wasn’t well yet.

  “You’re not to blame for this,” Georges told her sternly.

  Oh, but she was, she thought. Her eyes were tortured as she turned to him again. “Can’t you find a way to get him out of this somehow?” she begged. “Give him a shot, inject him with something that’ll bring him around?”

  “Maybe the coma’s for the best right now. Think of it as being off-line. The body is trying to heal itself,” he told her. “Once it does, it’ll be on line again.” He felt as if their roles had become reversed. The realist had become the optimist and the optimist had fallen victim to pessimism.

  Making note of the vital signs and checking them out for himself, Georges did what he could. He could feelVienna watching his every move. But there was precious little to do. Nothing had changed.

  She couldn’t continue this way indefinitely, he thought. “Why don’t you go home, get some rest? I can have—”

  But she was already shaking her head. “I’ll rest when he opens his eyes again,” she told him fiercely. There was nothing he could do, short of physically carrying her out. And who knew? Maybe having her here was the best medicine he could prescribe for Amos. So for now, he retreated.

  “I’ll be back in an hour,” he promised.

  “Thank you,” she murmured without looking up. She continued holding her grandfather’s hand, holding on for dear life. Willing him back among the living.

  She heard the door closing as Georges slipped out of the cubicle.

  “He is right, you know.” Her eyes flew open. Had she just imagined that? Imagined her grandfather’s voice because she wanted to hear it so badly? But his eyes were open and he was looking up at her.

  “Oh Grandpa—” Her voice choked and she couldn’t get any more out.

  She saw his mouth move, but nothing audible came out.Vienna leaned in closer to hear him. But even then, her heart was pounding so hard, it was difficult to make out his words. Out of nowhere, a feeling slipped over her. Frantic, she pressed the buzzer for the nurse with her other hand. Hard.

  “You need to rest,” Amos whispered hoarsely against her ear.

  She blinked back tears. The feeling inside her grew more ominous. “And you need to get better.”

  He was struggling with each word. But even so, his thin lips curved in a weak smile. “Even when I am dying, you argue.”

  “You’re not dying,” she cried fiercely, but even as she did, she knew it was true. “You hear me? You’re not dying, I won’t let you.”

  Georges came rushing in. He’d just passed the nurses’ station when he saw the light from Amos’s cubicle go off. Fearing the worst, he’d doubled back. “I…need to…say…this,” Amos insisted, each breath audible. “I…love…you. You have been…the…sunshine of…my life…I don’t…want…you…changing.” He tried to turn his head and couldn’t. But his words were meant for the young man who had come into his life just in time. “Take…take care…of…her for…. me…Georges.”

  “Nobody is going to take care of me but you, Grandpa. You hear me? Only you. Grandpa? Grandpa? Grandpa, please. Don’t go,” she pleaded. “Don’t go.”

  But Amos’s eyes had closed again and he made no answer to her pleas. She felt his fingers go lax in hers.

  Vienna’s heart broke. Chapter Fifteen OnceRaul and Zelda had spread the word at the bakery,Vienna had expected that her grandfather’s funeral wouldn’t be one of those soul-wrenching, solitary affairs where only she and the presiding priest would attend. She’d always known that, no matter where they called home, everyone loved her grandfather. He was just that kind of man.

  But she hadn’t expected the church and then the cemetery to be overflowing with people the way it was. Every pew in the smallchurch ofSt. Thomas Aquinas had been filled and people were rubbing elbows at thePeacefulPassageCemetery .

  And, more than that, she really hadn’t expected Georges and his entire family, including his sister-in-law-to-be and her daughter and brother.Vienna knew that the other people, the regular customers and their families, had come because of her grandfather. They’d come to pay their respects and to honor a hardworking man who had gladdened the heart of every person his life had touched.

  But Georges and especially his family had come because of her. Not because they knew AmosSchwarzwalden and liked him, but because they knew her. And because they felt that she needed the support.

  HadVienna been able to feel, she would have been greatly touched by their gesture and their kindness.

  But she couldn’t feel. Not anything. She’d purposely frozen her heart, throwing herself headlong into not just the details of making the funeral arrangements but in running the bakery. She refused to close it after his death, not even for the three days of the wake. She divided her time between the funeral parlor and the bakery, something neither Raul nor Zelda could talk her out of.

  The idea behind it all was that she keep moving to outdistance the pain, to dodge and weave and, at all times, to keep several steps ahead of it. If she stood still, if she allowed herself time to think ofanything but tiny, cluttering details, she knew in her heart that she was going to fall apart.

  That was why, even after the funeral, when a large group of the mourners adjourned and followed her from the cemetery to the house she’d shared with her grandfather—the house that was now so very, very empty to her—Viennadid her best to be everywhere. No detail escaped her. None was too large or too small. She made sure that the trays of food found their way to a buffet table and that everyone’s glass was always at least halfway filled. She kept an eye on the napkins and the paper plates, making certain that the supply didn’t run out.

  Though he wanted to help her, Georges had deliberately stood back and watchedVienna at the church, at the cemetery and now here. He knew that he had to give her space. Had to allow her to deal with her grief as she saw fit.

  But she wasn’t dealing, she was running. He knew the signs. Having done it himself for a number of different reasons, Georges knew the signs well: you didn’t stand still long enough for your emotions to catch up and find you. It was the only way to stay invulnerable, to elude the jaws of pain.

  But inVienna ’s case, the painwould come,would find her. Most likely when she was least ready for it. And then, then she was going to implode in a million tiny pieces and cave in.

  She couldn’t continue this shadow dance, Georges decided. So, asVienna scooped up an empty tray that had held an assortment of macadamia chicken and all but aimed her body toward the kitchen in order to replenish the supply, Georges moved directly in front of her, blocking her swift exit.

  “I’ll get that,” he offered. His hand was on the tray, ready to take it from her. But she wouldn’t relinquish her hold.

  “No,” she told him firmly, pulling the tray back. And then, realizing that she’d practically snapped, she added, “Thank you. But no, I have to do it.”

  He searched her face, looking for an opening. It was as if she’d just dammed up any access to the person inside.

  “What you have to do is stop being so stoic,” he told her.

  She pulled back her lips in a patient smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. “There, good Doctor, you’re wrong. Ihave to be stoic.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lily coming toward her. She wanted to run, but it was too late. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate what Georges and his family were trying to do, she just didn’t want them doing it. Didn’t need them doing it. The kinder they tried to be to her, the harder it was to maintain her barriers. And she desperately needed those barriers to keep back all the pain that threatened to find her. To undo her.

  Lily’s majestic eyebrows narrowed as she took in what was happening. “Georges, take that tray from
her.” Her tone left no room for argument.

  Viennaheld on to the tray as if it were a lifeline. “No, really.” She held the tray closer to her. “Please. Ineed to do this.” But Lily was not to be ignored. Very gently, she peeled awayVienna ’s fingers and physically took the tray away from her. Once in her possession, she thrust the tray to her middle son.

  Eyes the color of newly blossoming African violets remained on her. They were filled with compassion and understanding.

  “I know,” was all she said. “I know.” And then, despite the young woman’s initial effort to pull away, she enfoldedVienna in her arms. Realizing that there was no getting around this, that if she resisted, Lily would only continue and that it would draw attention to them, toher,Vienna appeared to surrender and allowed herself to be held. Her face buried against Lily’s shoulder,Vienna bit her lower lip, trying to keep the walls inside her from crumbling.

  Her mind went elsewhere. She forced herself to try to remember how many small sandwiches she’d ordered and then, that failing, she tried to remember all the movements of the last waltz that Strauss had written.

  Strauss’s compositions had played at the church during the service and then she’d had them piped in over the loudspeaker at the cemetery. Her grandfather had always loved Strauss. Her earliest memories of him were associated with his very old, scratchy record collection. As a gift one Christmas, she’d given him an entire CD collection, meant to replace the old vinyl records. But she caught him playing the latter anyway. He’d said that playing them reminded him of her late grandmother, who’d felt as he did that waltzes were the only melodies worth listening to.

  Hearing the notes today had both gladdened her heart and all but torn it in half. At one point, she’d very nearly lost her resolve.

  Just as she was in danger of losing it now. Lily stepped back, releasing her with a resigned sigh. The woman was savvy enough to know that she hadn’t accomplished what she’d set out to do.Vienna was still walled in.

  “I’m here if you need me,” she toldVienna , squeezing her hand.