I can’t read your mind, babe.
The ringtone started up again. “Leave a message,” he muttered.
The ringtone ended finally. Maybe after four calls, Hot Rod would realize she wasn’t going to answer. Carson leaned against the footboard and slid off his shoes.
Her phone lit up. “Not again.” Carson rounded the bed and snatched up the phone. “Hey, you ever heard of leaving a message?”
“Where’s Mommy?”
Chapter 20
Shit, he’d yelled at a little kid with the wrong number. He cleared his throat and softened his tone. “I’m sorry, but you have the wrong number.”
“It’s the right number,” she replied. “Hot Rod fixed his phone for me. He said to push three to call Mommy. I know my numbers. I know three.”
“I’m sure you do.” He tapped the side of Marla’s suitcase, his gaze glued to the black dress he’d ripped off her. “Maybe you need to get an adult to call the number for you.”
“Okay,” she said. “I have to talk to Mommy and tell her not to forget the Aloha doll. It says aloha. Mommy said that means hello in Hawaii. Aloha.”
Carson moved his lips, but he couldn’t speak. He reached for the doll in Marla’s suitcase. The doll was packaged in clear plastic and cardboard. She was fastened to a tropical background. If you pressed the doll’s arm, it would say aloha.
Finally, he found his voice. “What’s your mother’s name, sweetie?”
“My mommy’s name is Doctor Marla Caroline Grant, and my daddy’s name is Doctor Benjamin Michael Archer, and my name is Sophie Elizabeth Archer.”
“Dear Jesus.”
“Are you gonna say the bedtime prayer?”
“What?” He was beyond thinking.
“Dear Jesus. As I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep and if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen,” she concluded. “That’s what you say at bedtime.”
“Yeah. That’s what you say.” He’d have to watch his mouth. He paced across the room and back again. Marla had a kid. One she’d never mentioned. How was that possible?
“Can I speak to Mommy?”
“She’s, um, not here right now.” He wandered aimlessly as Sophie Elizabeth Archer chatted away.
“Is she fixing sick people? If you’re sick at your stomach, she can make you better. Daddy fixes broke bones. If you break your leg, he’ll put it back together. And Hot Rod can fix your heart if something happens to it. What do you fix?”
Carson stumbled into the adjoining sitting area and dropped on the sofa. “I don’t think I can fix anything.”
“Hot Rod can fix old cars, too. Him and Papaw are fixing a car. The garage is stinky so I came inside. Papaw said to be good and not get into nothing. Are you good?”
“I try to be,” he answered.
“Me, too,” she said. “I got in trouble today with Nana.”
“Do you live with your grandparents?”
“Oh, no. I live with Mommy on Elmwood Circle. That’s the best place in the whole world because Anna Grace lives across the street. She’s my BFF. That means best friends forever,” she explained. “That’s me and Anna Grace. Do you have a BFF?”
He grinned slightly. “I don’t think guys have BFFs.”
“Are you Mommy’s friend?”
“Kinda.” He slumped against the back of the sofa. “My name is Carson.”
“I talked to my daddy today. Daddy lives far away. Like so far you can’t go in a car.”
Carson frowned. “Does he come to see you?”
“Yeah. He brings me toys for Christmas and my birthday.”
Ben Archer. The occasional father. What had Marla been thinking when she married that douche bag?
He heard a male voice in the background, and Sophie said, “Papaw says it’s time to go.”
“I’ll tell your mom you called and she won’t forget the doll. She’s packed it already.” He pushed up from the sofa. “Your mother will be home tomorrow.”
“Okay. Bye, Carson.”
He managed to make it back into the living room where he picked up the beer he had left on the coffee table. Could this day get any worse?
He sat on the lanai for a while. Ferns fluttered in the breeze as a sheet of misty rain passed over the hotel. Any other day, he might have enjoyed the tranquility of watching the surf rise and fall. But, at the moment, there was nothing he would enjoy.
He didn’t know Marla. He didn’t know the real Marla Grant at all.
No more than he had known Angela all those years ago.
The woman he thought he could love and trust forever was just a figment of his imagination. Had she told the truth about anything? How many more secrets did she have?
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He dug it out and saw that he had a message from Truman’s cell phone. He sat up straight as he read the text.
This is Marla. Truman has had a heart attack, but he is going to be all right. We’re at the hospital in Lihue. He is in ICU and I’m with him. But Julia is alone and she needs someone with her. I told her I would get in touch with you.
Carson was on his feet instantly, his fatigue gone. What was left of his heart shattered as he thought of losing Truman.
He responded.
I’m on my way.
The day had definitely just gotten worse.
* * *
Marla sat beside Truman’s bedside in the small ICU room. Distraught, Julia had insisted she be allowed to stay with Truman as his personal physician, and the hospital CEO had agreed. After all, Truman Crawford was not just anyone.
“I know if you are with him, he’ll be all right. You saved him.” Julia had held her hands. “He’ll be all right if you are there. I won’t have to worry.”
Actually, Marla had done all she could for Truman. But she had stayed because Julia needed that reassurance, and she was worried about Julia. By the time they reached the hospital, Julia had looked as if she had aged twenty years. Her features had a frail appearance like the fade had started. Marla had seen that occur in couples who had been together for decades. When one went, the other started to fade, as if the light of love they carried inside for so long was leaving them.
“He’s going to be fine,” Marla assured her. “He’ll just have to eat less bacon and steak, which I’m sure he’ll fuss about.”
That had brought some color back to Julia’s face along with a smile.
Marla leaned back in the folding chair and folded her arms. She wore hospital-issue green scrubs and a long-sleeve surgical scrub jacket. The intensive care unit was cold, and she’d been thankful when a nurse had brought her the scrubs, which were a bit warmer than her shorts and tank top.
The familiar soft swishes and clicks of the machines lulled her into a restful state. She was exhausted, hungry, and she’d missed her flight home.
Carson was just outside the intensive care unit, sitting with Julia in the ICU waiting area. He had sent a text to Truman’s phone when he reached the hospital. She was glad he was with Julia, who did need someone with her until her sons arrived.
Marla closed her eyes. Time blurred as she saw Carson standing beside one of Royal Oak’s massive white columns. Tall and muscular. His white linen shirt draped over his wide shoulders, sleeves rolled up, exposing muscular, tanned arms. His smoldering gaze had burned right through her, and the spell was cast once he kissed her.
The carriage house at Royal Oaks had become an enchanted place where reality faded amid the shade of ancient oaks, the scent of gardenias, the sound of mockingbirds, and the soft fog that sometimes shrouded the grounds in the evening. One night they’d shared champagne at midnight in the rose garden and made love by the light of the moon. No inhibitions. No reservations. No denying their passion.
She opened her eyes and the memory disappeared. Reality wasn’t that rose garden.
“I’m not a small-town guy with nothing to lose.”
Carson had summed himself up perfectly.
Tr
uman let out a moan and she stood. His intubation tube had been removed an hour ago and the sedative he’d been given was wearing off. He gave her a dazed stare as she patted his hand.
“Hey,” she said. “You’re back with us. How are you feeling?”
He made a nod. “Okay,” he whispered, giving her a fearful whisper. “Hospital?”
“Yes,” she answered and explained exactly what had happened to him. “Your sons should be here soon. And in the morning, the cardiologist will meet with you and your family about your treatment and follow-up at a heart center.”
“Julia?”
“She’s here. She’s out in the waiting area along with Carson,” Marla answered. “I’ll bring them back here to see you for a couple of minutes.”
Truman nodded and she gave his hand a squeeze.
Marla stopped by the nurses’ station and told Truman’s nurse she was going to bring his wife back to see him. The doors of the unit slid open and she stepped out in the hallway. At the entrance of the waiting area, she saw Julia sitting in a green armchair, flipping through a magazine. Sitting on a small sofa beside her, Carson was still in the same shirt and pants that he’d had on earlier in the morning, sans the tie and jacket. Steam wafted from the cup of coffee he drank.
Julia closed the magazine when she saw Marla, and Carson set aside the cup of coffee.
Marla walked into the waiting room. “Truman’s awake.”
As tears formed in Julia’s eyes, Carson gripped Julia’s hand and smiled at her. “I told you he’d be okay. He’s gonna outlast both of us.”
Marla said, “I’m going to take you back to see him. Just for a couple of minutes and he’s not fully conscious. He won’t say much, but he’ll know you.”
Carson provided Julia with a supportive arm as they followed Marla into ICU. Marla stood outside the room as they went inside. Through the glass wall, she saw Julia give Truman a kiss and she smoothed his hair while Carson bent to talk to him.
Marla gazed at Carson. His shirt was rumpled and his dark hair in disarray. He had not shaved since yesterday. Dense stubble covered the lower half of his face, and fatigue had settled around his blue eyes. It had been a long day for everyone, and it had not ended yet.
The nurse at the desk motioned to her and she nodded. She stepped inside Truman’s room. “I’m sorry, but you have to go now,” she told Julia and Carson. “You can see him again in a few hours.”
Carson turned to her and spoke in a flat tone. “I’d like a word with you. Privately.”
“All right,” she agreed. Might as well tackle the inevitable sooner than later.
She escorted them out of the unit. Smiling, Julia settled in the waiting room again, and Marla ushered Carson across the hall and through a door marked Private. They stepped into a small room painted in soft tones of blue and mint green. Damask armchairs stood on either side of the room. A pier table held a bouquet of artificial lilies-of-the-valley, and silver boxes dispensed tissues. Comforting verses from the Book of Psalms hung on the wall.
This was the kind of room often called a prayer room by hospital employees. There had been many times when she had escorted a family to such a room after, or sometimes before delivering the sad news of a loved one’s death.
“You missed your flight,” Carson said, his voice remaining emotionless.
She stuck her hands in the pockets of the scrub jacket. “Yeah.”
“There will be a jet waiting for you at nine in the morning. One of the drivers from the hotel will pick you up here and take you to the airport. Your luggage will be in the vehicle. There’s no need for you to return to the hotel.”
“All right.” She had no choice but to be agreeable. This was what she wanted. Yet it was ending poorly between them. Perhaps that was for the best. But it didn’t stop the pain that ricocheted through her heart. She tried to remain noble. “Thank you.”
He blinked and his composure slipped. “I deleted your number.”
She met his furious gaze. “I know.” There was no anger inside her. Only grief as she stood in a room where a million tears had been shed as life and love came to a close. “There have been a lot of farewells said in this room.”
“Don’t,” he warned. The tension rolled off him and crashed against her like the stormy waves she’d seen hit the cliffs.
Stillness was the key to diffusing anger. Keeping calm and rational. She’d employed that technique several times as a doctor. Once a berserk patient had threatened her at knifepoint until she had soothed him into putting the knife down.
Carson stepped closer to her. He withdrew her phone from his pants pocket. “Here.”
Surprised, she took her phone from him. “Thanks.”
He angled his head slightly and looked her squarely in the eye.
“I talked to Sophie.”
Chapter 21
Marla’s composure fractured. It splintered and broke apart like bones during a head-on collision. Holding her phone in a tight grip, she shoved away from him, unable to be still or rational when it came to her baby.
“What do you mean?” she demanded.
“Your pal, Hot Rod, let her have his phone. After I heard ‘Carry On Wayward Son’ a half dozen times, I finally answered so I could tell the jerk to leave a message,” he said. “Imagine my surprise when a little girl told me that you’re her mother.”
Marla stuck her phone in the pocket of her scrub top and tried not to look too frantic.
“She wanted to make sure you didn’t forget her Aloha doll. I told her you had already packed it and I promised her that you’d be home tomorrow.”
Marla couldn’t manage words at the moment, but Carson had no trouble talking.
“I don’t know you. I don’t really know you at all, do I?”
Marla stared at the peace lilies. Now was not the time and place to tell him the truth. “Can we talk about this later?”
“No,” he answered. “We are never talking again.”
“She’s the reason I wanted you to come to Royal Oaks in a couple of weeks. I was going to introduce you to her.”
“I’m selling Royal Oaks.”
His remark shocked her. “Selling? But Royal Oaks has been in your family for generations.” How could he even consider that? “You’re not selling it because of me, are you?”
“It’s just an old house and some land,” he replied. “It’s time to get rid of it.”
“What about the art center? You were so excited about that.”
“I’ll still build it, but not at Royal Oaks,” he answered.
“Carson—”
“We’re finished here,” he cut in. “Go stay with Truman.” He opened the door to the room, officially ending their conversation. “I’ll be returning to the hotel when Rick gets here,” he said, referring to Truman’s son. “Have a good trip home, Marla.”
She watched him walk into the waiting room and have a seat beside Julia. He stretched out his long legs and busied himself with his phone. She returned to Truman’s room where she stayed the rest of the night.
At dawn, she returned to the prayer room alone.
She took a seat in the serene room. A Gideon Bible lay on the oak end table. She rested her hand on the Bible and told herself she should be thankful. Things couldn’t have worked out more perfectly. Her mission had been accomplished.
The Lafayette Falls Community Clinic would no longer have any financial difficulties thanks to Julia Crawford . . .
“I want to pay you for all that you did today. If that is even possible,” Julia had said as they sat in the hospital cafeteria after eleven last night. Truman was resting well. Both his sons had arrived, and Carson had returned to the hotel.
“No.” Marla shook her head as she devoured a prepackaged sandwich and chips—the first food she’d had in hours. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I owe you everything,” Julia insisted. “I want to pay you, or if you would rather, I’ll donate to a charity on your behalf.”
&nb
sp; Immediately she thought of the clinic. “You know, if you’d like to make a donation, please send it to the Lafayette Falls Community Clinic.”
She explained the purpose of the clinic that had been established by her mentor. She spoke of all the programs the clinic provided to anyone in need, and how hard everyone had worked to acquire funding.
Julia studied her. “You don’t want anything for yourself?”
“I want the clinic to stay open.”
Julia nodded in approval. “Who should I contact?” She withdrew a pen and a small pad from her purse.
Marla gave her Nolana’s name and telephone number. “She’s our business manager.”
“Very well.” Julia smiled. “I’ll contact my accountant tomorrow and have him forward a check to the clinic for a million dollars.”
“A million dollars,” Marla gasped.
Julia smiled. “I guess one belligerent old man is worth a million.”
“I don’t know what to say. It will mean so much to a lot of people.”
“You mean a lot to me.”
“Julia.” Marla reached across the table and took Julia’s hand. Lies had a way of becoming a maze. Sometimes you could never find your way out. She intended to find her way out.
“Carson and I weren’t a couple when we came here.” She told Julia why she’d come to the resort with Carson. “We’re just a couple of assholes.”
To her surprise, Julia laughed. “Well, I will admit I’ve been trying to find the right girl for him, as much as that has annoyed him. He needs a family,” she said. “And I had wondered why he’d become so indifferent when it came to love. Now I know. He was already in love.”
“Not now.” Marla arranged the food wrappers in a neat pile on the tray. “I don’t know that he ever loved me, but things are pretty much over between us.”
“I had sensed something was wrong with him,” Julia admitted. “But, you know, all problems can be resolved with a little give and take.”
Marla pushed aside the tray. It would take more than that. “I’m not hopeful when it comes to Carson.” She harbored no hope whatsoever.
One Week in Your Arms Page 18
