Then she could be on her way. She didn’t have to stay in the hospital this time. Elliot was a doctor and could take care of himself. She had no responsibility to him or anyone else. She was free. Independent, the way she wanted to be. She could breathe again.
“I gave you my energy,” she told him, knowing it was senseless to anyone except her, needing to let him know she’d done everything she could. She should have learned CPR instead of spiritual healing. He would have understood that better.
“I know,” he whispered. “I felt it.”
She ought to be surprised, but she didn’t have time to register his reply. The RN lifted Lucia from the cot, distracting her.
“You’ll have to leave, Mrs. Roth.” The nurses and the policemen apparently hadn’t exchanged notes on who was whom. “We’ll have to take Dr. Roth up to a room for the night. Do you have a means of transportation?”
Eager for the distraction of little arms around her neck, Alys reached for Lucia. Checking Elliot to be certain he was still breathing, reassured by his nod, she let the nurses hustle her out, and agreed to let them call a taxi.
In her head, she knew she’d helped Elliot. She had done her duty. The rest was up to him. She could leave with a clear conscience.
“Mrs. Roth.” The doctor caught her in the waiting room while she was standing there blankly, trying to figure out where to go next.
She looked up at him, saw his tired eyes, silvered hair, and tried to block out his words, but she couldn’t.
“Your husband has a heart condition,” she heard him say.
“Like Mame’s.” She nodded as if she understood.
He looked startled, then continued. “The condition is often hereditary, yes.”
“He’s dying, isn’t he?” Now that she could breathe again, she was starting to put two and two together. Damn, but she’d been so stupid. Elliot had told her how his father died. Explained about Mame’s condition. Told her why he did heart research. She should have known why he ate as he did. It wasn’t heartburn.
“With the proper treatment, people with this condition can live for years,” the doctor assured her. “He just overexerted himself this evening. He needs rest and medication for the congestion. We’ll have to monitor him to discover the extent of the damage.”
She barely heard anything beyond that. The strong, vital man who’d made love to her and fought off desperate burglars for her was ill. He could die. Not today maybe. Or tomorrow. But someday.
She wasn’t living through that hell again. She wasn’t giving her heart away to be buried another time. She wasn’t. She wouldn’t. Elliot would understand. He wouldn’t expect anything less.
She’d find Mame for him. And deliver Lucia. And take care of Purple and the orchid if she must. He’d have to take care of himself. He could do that. He’d been doing that for a very long time. He’d been doing much better on his own than with her.
Someone helped her into the taxi. She didn’t remember getting there herself. Once she was away from the hospital, the panic lessened. She held Lucia, rocked her, and the poor little thing fell asleep against her shoulder. If she could just look at the child as a task that must be accomplished, she could do this. She’d survived the past year by giving herself assignments and carrying them out. She’d always been an overachiever.
At the motel, the management apologized profusely, giving them a new room where security had carried all their belongings. Even Purple, looking shaken and confused, had been captured and now stared out at her from the bars of his cage. The poor kitten couldn’t keep traveling like this. She’d leave him with Lucia at the reservation. They’d both be happier there.
Maybe she’d keep the orchid. She didn’t have a home to take it to, didn’t know where she was going after she found Mame, but it was just a plant. She could keep it alive for a while. She hoped. Driving down life’s highway with a plant by her side was just the right speed for her.
Alys laid the sleeping child in a bed and covered her up. She would wait until morning, call the hospital and check on Elliot, then pack up the car. While management was apologizing, she’d asked them to send Elliot’s bag over to the hospital. She needn’t go back there. Just the idea of having to find the hospital and go inside again caused her to hyperventilate.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to breathe evenly. She sought her center, but visions of Elliot pale and unconscious on the stretcher took up all the space in her brain. She changed the vision to Elliot in his new cowboy shirt and jeans riding down the canyon, shouting and waving his new hat in delight as the horse broke into a gallop. That was a good image, a strong one, one that filled her with joy. It brought tears sliding down her cheek, but she’d learned to live with tears.
He’d be fine for now. She understood that much. And look at how long Mame had lived. If Elliot took good care of himself, he could live that long as well. She didn’t need to live with him. She’d send Mame back to him. Albuquerque was only a few hours away.
* * *
“Dr. Roth!” Entering the room in the early dawn, the nurse looked appropriately shocked. “We have you scheduled for an echogram at ten. You can’t leave now.”
“I know what the tests will show. It doesn’t matter. I’ll see my specialist when I get home.” Or Albuquerque. Or Los Angeles. Whatever. After he found Mame. After he kept Alys from running away. Elliot tucked in his shirt and fastened his belt.
He was feeling far better than he should for a man with congestive heart failure, and he knew who to thank for that.
“I’ll have to call the doctor. We can’t just let you check out—”
“I’m a doctor. I’ll check myself out. I can tell you my diagnosis without reading the charts. I can tell you what medication I need, what tests I should run. I can also tell you I’ll be much better off once I reach—”
They’d called her his wife. He might wish, but it wasn’t to be, as last night had certainly proved. He corrected himself and finished, “Alys. And my own doctors,” he added for good measure, because the nurse would understand that better.
Even he didn’t understand what Alys had done last night.
She’d healed him. His heart had stopped functioning. He knew the symptoms, knew the condition had been building up for a week. Knew his chest cavity must be filled with fluids and that he needed rest and medication. But he was up and moving as if all he’d needed was a good night’s sleep.
He was no doubt fooling himself, but it didn’t matter. He’d rather fall over dead than let Alys run off on her own, and he knew damned well that she would, and he’d never see her again if she did.
She finally had him thinking in terms of a future—of his personal future and not some scientific advance he could discover before he died. He could have years ahead, and he didn’t want those years to be empty. Alys was probably the worst possible choice for him, but he couldn’t let her go just yet.
The nurse ran off to make phone calls. Someone had brought over his suitcase. That’s how he knew it was almost too late. He jerked on his boots, found his hat in the closet. He was striding down the hall to the nurse’s station to check himself out before the doctor on duty could arrive. Elliot walked into an elevator just as a harried intern ran out of another.
He was out the door and hailing a cab before anyone could stop him.
Now he knew how Mame had felt.
He wanted to tell the cab driver to hurry, to take the yellow lights, to push the limit, but he balled his fingers into fists and forced himself to be calm. He’d spent a lifetime pushing himself and it had almost killed him. He wouldn’t do anyone any good if he keeled over.
While the taxi rolled through quiet city streets, Elliot listened to his heartbeat, tested his pulse. Both sounded strong. Even the heartburn was gone. He didn’t believe in miracles. He’d be happier once he had time to order tests to prove he was fine.
But just knowing he was closer to Alys soothed a part of his soul that he hadn’t known was restle
ss, filled corners he hadn’t known were empty. In many ways, Alys had been right and he’d been wrong. He could accomplish more if he lived longer. He could live longer if he slowed down and learned to enjoy the moment as she did. He wanted to relish whatever time he had left—whether five years or fifty.
He almost panicked when the taxi pulled up at the hotel and the pink Caddy wasn’t parked in front of the pink saloon front. She couldn’t have left already!
On another day, in an earlier time, his chest might have started burning, but it didn’t now. Peeling off dollar bills to hand to the driver, he pictured Alys’s smile, steadied his frantic thoughts, and realized the hotel would have moved her out of the room with the broken door. Now that he was calmer, he could see the boards across the damaged panels.
Pulling his suitcase, he followed the sidewalk to the back of the motel, and there sat Beulah, trunk lid gaping open.
Elliot flung his suitcase in beside Alys’s huge luggage. He didn’t know how she’d lifted hers to get it in, but he’d give her credit for doing anything she put her mind to. He sure in hell wouldn’t want to be a target of one of her deadly kicks.
She didn’t need him. He needed her.
Purple sat forlornly in his cage on the backseat beside Lucia’s red backpack. Alys had strapped the orchid into the front passenger seat. Elliot scratched the kitten’s head, then going to the back of the Caddy to slam the trunk, he stalked toward the open motel room door.
Chapter Seventeen
“I’m not Fred.”
Walking in the door she’d left open while she carried out luggage, Elliot pitched his Stetson on the bed, and Alys nearly fell backward in surprise.
“You don’t have to take care of me,” he continued. “Do me a favor, though, and let me know when you’re leaving next time.”
He looked glorious standing there with the rising sun at his back, throwing his face into shadow. He stood with booted feet akimbo, his shoulders filling the doorway, a picture postcard of health. It might be easier on her if he wore bandages and carried a cane, so she wouldn’t be so easily deceived.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Shocked, she sat down on the mattress. She didn’t think her knees would hold her up. Maybe last night had been a mistake? She’d dreamed it? She’d almost rather believe she was hallucinating than know last night was for real.
“You gave me your energy, remember? Where’s Lucia?” He glanced around until Lucia peeked out from behind the dresser.
“I didn’t cure you of heart failure,” Alys scoffed. “They must have miracle drugs.”
Elliot hefted Lucia into his arms as if he hadn’t been lying pale and cold on a stretcher the night before. Now that he was inside, she could see his healthy tan and the glitter of his dark eyes. He was furious with her.
Good. She was furious with him. Jamming the bologna and cheese she’d bought into the ice chest, Alys turned her back on him. “What am I supposed to do when you die next time? Leave your body on the side of the road?”
“I didn’t die. I’ll take medication. We’ll stop by Wal-Mart to pick up Lucia’s pictures and fill a prescription. Give me credit for knowing what I can or can’t do.”
She admired Elliot’s strength and courage far more than she wanted to, but making himself ill was a damned strange way of surviving.
Alys shoved the top on the ice chest, lifted it, and glared at him. “I should give credit to a man who thinks he can walk on water? Mame collapsed just like you did and you raised holy Cain when she walked out. What makes you think you’re any different?”
“I’m not over sixty, for one thing.” Scanning the room to be certain she hadn’t left anything, Elliot scooped up his hat and put it on Lucia’s head. “And I’m a doctor. I’d know if I were suffering any symptoms of imminent death.”
He was doing his best to keep from shouting at her, Alys could tell, but his sarcasm stabbed just as deeply. She wanted to feel guilty for abandoning him, but she didn’t. Life was about survival, and she damned well didn’t intend to lose herself again.
“I did what I had to do,” she informed him, following him out to the car. “I’m not a nurse. I don’t even know CPR. I couldn’t make you better. My priority was to find Mame and send her back to you and to deliver Lucia. You would have done the same.”
That shut him up. He didn’t look any happier at acknowledging her accuracy. Now that they were out in the light of day, Alys could see lines of strain around Elliot’s eyes, and read the shadows in his gaze. He was grappling with mortality as ferociously as she was. That didn’t make her happier either.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” she murmured. She couldn’t imagine hurting a man as self-sufficient as Elliot, but she thought her apology eased some of his strain. She might not owe him anything, but his friendship was worth preserving.
“Have you eaten?” He changed the subject rather than argue further in front of a child who listened far too intently.
“I’ve been to the store. We had juice and cereal and milk. I’m not a complete airhead,” she answered stiffly. She also didn’t have much cash on her and knew how to conserve what she had. Guilt finally struck her when she realized he probably hadn’t eaten. “There’s more in the ice chest.” She set it down and opened it. “And bananas in the back seat. I didn’t know if Lucia was old enough to eat grapes without swallowing them whole, and I didn’t have a knife sharp enough to cut up apples.”
“She has a whole mouth full of teeth and can eat anything you give her.” He settled Lucia into the backseat and fastened her seat belt. “Do we need a child seat for her?”
“I checked the guide book. She’s old enough for seat belts here.”
“Fine. I’ll munch some cereal dry and have one of those bananas. Give me the keys.”
“You can’t drive!” she cried. “I’ll not have you passing out while we’re driving down the road at seventy miles per hour.”
Elliot grimaced, and Alys regretted her comment instantly. That was how his parents had died.
Not acknowledging any hint of weakness, he took a swig of juice straight from the carton. Then he stored the ice chest on the floor of the backseat. “As soon as we find Mame and deliver Lucia, I’ll check into a hospital. Until then, I’m sorry we can’t do this last stretch slowly. The keys, Alys.”
His gaze was implacable as he stood up and held out his hand.
She studied him warily, but he didn’t look as if he was about to pass out. He looked stronger than he had this whole trip. He wasn’t even rubbing his middle. If she trusted Mame to know what was best, shouldn’t she trust Elliot? He was at least a doctor and ought to know what he was doing.
“I liked Doc Nice better,” she muttered, slapping the keys on his palm. “At least he attempted to be reasonable.”
“Doc Nice was attacked by thugs and abandoned in the hospital by a woman he thought was his friend. You’ll have to live with Doc Roth.” In his heeled boots and tight jeans, he strode around the Caddy to climb into the driver’s seat.
“Wal-Mart,” she reminded him curtly, crossing her arms and glaring out the windshield while he started the car.
Maybe she wouldn’t like this side of him. Maybe she could despise the domineering, unreasonable Doc Roth. That would make it far easier to leave him. She could find a waitress job in Albuquerque, and he could go hang.
How the devil had he managed to get so completely under her skin in a few days?
They stopped at the shopping center, and Elliot climbed out. Lucia had released Purple from her cage, so Alys stayed in the car with the cat and child, nervously trying not to think. Denial was a nice state if she could pull it off.
But her protective instincts beat denial into submission and activated all her defense systems. Last night’s intruders had robbed her of any sense of security.
She studied every person who wandered too close to the car. It was early. The lot wasn’t crowded. Two police cars had parked in front of a nearby café. A semi hauling prod
uce had followed them into the parking lot and now idled in front of the grocery store. Employees were parking at the far end of the lot, heading into work for the day. Traffic had picked up on the highway, and a few more cars rolled in before Elliot returned.
As he emerged from the store, she could see the bruise beneath the stubble of his beard. She hadn’t left him time to shave. Last night, he’d savagely defended them against at least three intruders. Understanding the ferocity lurking beneath the Doc Nice image, she saw a man this morning who looked almost menacing in his open-necked cowboy shirt and unshaven jaw.
This man had glared at her and shouted. He still didn’t look happy with her.
But he climbed in and handed a shopping sack to Lucia, and Alys knew Doc Nice hadn’t gone away.
Lucia withdrew a doll with dark curls, a shimmering gown, and tiny accessories to match and emitted a cry of happiness. Purple sniffed the toy and leaped into the back window in disapproval. Alys wanted to weep at the pang of longing the child’s happiness stirred. She swiftly turned back to face the windshield.
If she was really stupid, she could pretend they were a happy, healthy family on vacation. She had a good imagination. She could pretend Mame had left Lucia with them so she could go off and play, and that thieves hadn’t oddly chosen to break into their hotel room for no reason. Pretending Elliot hadn’t almost died and that they could all live happily ever after was even easier, and more dangerous to her mental health.
“Did you get your medicine?” she asked, determined to be practical.
Elliot tapped a slight bulge in his shirt pocket. “Grab the steering wheel and poke a pill between my lips if I collapse before we get there.”
She shot him a disapproving look at his unfunny joke. “You didn’t want Mame to drive.”
“Let’s not start this again. Little pitchers, and all that.” He jerked his head in the direction of Lucia whose happy coos had halted the instant they’d started arguing.
“How do you propose we talk about what happened last night?” Doing her best to sound happy, Alys smiled over her shoulder to reassure Lucia.
California Girl Page 18
