Queen of Harte's

by Brooke Harris

  ‘You’ve barely been in Dublin for twenty-four hours, Eva. If he wakes up while you’re gone, I’m sure he’ll understand.’

  Eva’s foot weighed down on the gas pedal again. ‘But I don’t want him to wake up without me.’

  The back of the tidy blue hatchback rental skidded more than was comfortable and Eva’s grip tightened instinctively on the wheel.

  ‘Right. Pull over. I’m driving,’ Shelly insisted. ‘Your head’s all over the place and, to be honest, your driving is scaring the shit out of me.’

  ‘There’s a garage just up here. I’ll pull in there.’ Eva pointed ahead.

  Eva was as good as her word and the girls switched places after picking up some tar-like, takeaway coffee and a couple of bars of chocolate to keep them going while they skipped lunch.

  ‘So all this rush. Do you think the hospital will let you in today?’ Shelly asked as they set out on the road again.

  Eva shrugged. ‘Probably not. But I can wait downstairs again.’

  Shelly groaned softly, but Eva ignored her disapproval.

  ‘How did it go with your mother and sister after I left earlier?’

  ‘Yeah. Fine, I suppose.’ Eva rolled her shoulders again. ‘Can we talk about something else?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. Sorry.’

  The rest of the journey passed mostly in silence. Eva drifted in and out of fitful sleep while Shelly drove so slowly even a cyclist could pass them.

  ‘Are you going to confront Mia today, then?’ Shelly said out of nowhere, jolting Eva fully awake.

  ‘What? No. Obviously not.’ Eva rubbed her eyes. ‘I haven’t spoken to her all week. I’m not going to make a random scene today.’

  ‘Well, I don’t mind making a scene.’

  ‘Shelly, no. Mia says that she’s Julian’s wife and the stupid, goddamn hospital has chosen to believe that. That’s fine. Julian can set the record straight when he wakes up.’

  ‘He has a lot of records to set straight when he comes around,’ Shelly grumbled.

  Eva’s neck cracked to one side. ‘Shelly, just drop it. Yeah? All I give a shit about right now is he being okay. I can deal with the rest after.’

  Eva’s brain felt like scrambled eggs. She was still reeling from her father’s funeral. And she was struggling to get her head around Shelly and Nathan’s theory that Julian had been plotting revenge behind her back since before they even met. Eva wouldn’t have put it past her father to destroy another family in addition to his own. But as much as Shelly and Nathan’s story made sense, and much as it explained why Julian was so secretive initially, something just didn’t sit right in her gut about it all. Mia’s revelation was just the icing on an already rotting cake. But none of it even came close to the stress of not knowing anything of substance about Julian’s condition.

  ‘Yeah. I know. Sorry, Eva. I know you’ve so much on your mind. It’s just that Mia melts my head. Even talking about her puts me in a pisser. Jesus, when I think about how we used to be kind of friends. I never knew she was such a bitch underneath.’

  ‘Yeah, you did. But you were just as bad.’ Eva laughed.

  ‘What? Excuse me. I was always a delight,’ Shelly replied, blowing a raspberry after.

  ‘Ha. You were too cool for school. You all were. Julian’s Fuck Buddy Bitches. God, when I started in the office, I was so intimidated that I hated going to pee in case I bumped into one of you in the bathroom.’ Eva was still laughing, but part of the giggling was a cover-up for how angry she felt now thinking back on it all.

  ‘Fuck Buddy Bitches? Haha, what a name!’

  Eva’s laughing came to a sudden end, as the ball, the game, her father, and the Da Lucas all paraded across her tired mind. ‘What if Julian won’t share his secrets? What if he feels he can’t? I need to understand why he’s done all that he has, you know?’

  Shelly’s laughing met just as sudden an end. ‘Look, I’m not going to lie. You two have the most fucked-up relationship I’ve ever seen. EVER. But if Julian can do love, then he’s in love with you. He’s a different person since you came along. But you’ve a shitload of problems. Mainly his bitch of a maybe-wife. The crap with your dad. And his…’ Shelly started giggling again. ‘And his….his…his fuck buddy bitches.’

  Eva’s phone vibrated across her knee. She glanced at the screen and at a number she didn’t recognise.

  ‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ Shelly said.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, of course. It’s…it’s a new area code. Limerick. I think.’

  ‘The hospital?’ Shelly squeaked.

  ‘I think so.’ Oh God, Oh God.

  ‘Oh Jesus, Eva. Pick up the phone. Pick up the phone.’

  ‘What if it’s...’ What if it’s bad news?

  ‘Eva, pick it up. Pick it up now, or I will.’

  ‘Hello. Evangeline speaking.’ Eva’s voice was calm, but her fingers were shaking so much she worried she might drop the phone before she heard the reply on the other end.

  ‘Miss Andrews.’

  ‘Julian. Oh, my God. You’re awake.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m on the way...I’m…I’m…’

  ‘We’re half an hour away, max,’ Shelly whispered, dropping her foot heavier against the accelerator.

  ‘I’m thirty minutes away. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.’ Eva’s words raced as much as her heart. ‘Oh my God, I can’t wait to see you.’

  Julian sighed heavily on the other end of the phone.

  ‘Julian…’ Eva gasped, worried he’d hung up the phone. She wasn’t ready; she needed his voice.

  ‘I’m here.’

  ‘Are you…are you okay?’

  ‘I am now that I’ve heard your voice. See you soon, baby. Drive carefully.’

  The line went dead, and Eva dropped the phone back onto her knees. ‘He’s awake, Shell. He’s awake.’

  Eva tossed her head back against the headrest and cried hysterically. A mix of relief and built-up fear burst out of her in the form of large, heaving sobs and heavy, salty tears. ‘He’s awake, Shell.’

  ‘Yeah, honey, I got that,’ Shelly said laughing through her own subtle tears.

  ‘I thought…I thought…’ Eva stuttered.

  ‘I know. I know,’ Shelly said softly. ‘But it’s okay. I told you it would be. I told you that Julian Harte doesn’t do losing.’

  ‘You were right.’ Eva sat back up, beaming. ‘Can we go a little faster?’

  ‘Ice, Eva. The roads are still as slippery as fuck, you know.’

  Chapter 5

  ‘Hi! Hi, I’m Evangeline Andrews. I’m Julian Harte’s girlfriend. I’m here to see him.’ Eva smiled at the middle-aged lady behind the reception desk just outside the ICU.

  ‘Hello.’ The receptionist smiled back brightly. ‘Just bear with me a moment.’ Her smile slowly faded as her eyes scanned the computer screen in front of her. ‘Unfortunately, I don’t have your name here.’

  ‘Well, that’s ‘cause my boyfriend has been in a coma and hasn’t been able to give it to you. But he’s awake now. He called me. Just a few minutes ago, actually. He’s awake.’

  ‘Okay, Miss Andrews.’

  ‘Eva. Evangeline Andrews. Mr. Harte is expecting me. Can you hurry please?’ Eva looked at Shelly as panic gripped her.

  ‘She’s just checking the paperwork, Eva. She can’t do anything without the hospital say so. Don’t worry, it’s all okay,’ Shelly said, stepping forward a fraction to stand right beside Eva in front of the dated mahogany desk.

  ‘Miss Andrews, I’m sorry, I just can’t find any record of your name here…’ the receptionist apologised.

  ‘Well, I’m giving you my name now. Write it down if you need a record. I’m Julian’s girlfriend, and I need to see him.’

  Eva’s heart did press-ups against her chest. She could see the doors leading into intensive care from where they were standing. It was killing her to be so close to Julian and still so far. She couldn’t wait to see him, touch hi
m, feel him, and tell him that she loved him. All the horrible questions that had tortured her over the last few days about Mia and why Julian had never told her that he was married settled far into the back of her mind, pushed away by the excitement and relief that he was awake.

  ‘Perhaps if you come back later?’ the receptionist suggested.

  ‘Please. You don’t understand. I need to see him now. I know he’s awake. He called me.’

  Despite Eva’s distress, she noticed the receptionist eye the tall, broad security guard nearby. Eva knew she was fighting a losing battle. She could either pull herself together or be pulled out of the door by a uniformed wrestler.

  ‘Come on, Eva. Let’s go over here for a moment,’ Shelly said, taking Eva by the arm and leading her towards a long, rectangular window behind them.

  Eva’s fingers were shaking as she rummaged in her bag for her mobile. She held her phone to her ear and tapped her foot rigorously as if that would make Julian answer faster. It rang out. She redialed and it rang out again…and again…and again. ‘He’s not picking up.’

  ‘Maybe he can’t use his mobile on the ward. Give Anthony or Anne a call. See if they know anything.’

  ‘Yeah, of course. Sorry, Shell. I’m not thinking straight.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I just really want to see him.’

  ‘Yeah, of course, you do but don’t get yourself into a state. He’s not going anywhere. You’ll see him soon.’

  Eva froze as Mia brushed past carrying a paper cup of steaming coffee and a croissant wrapped in a napkin. She didn’t recognise Eva and Shelly, or if she did, she did a very good job of playing dumb.

  ‘Good afternoon, Nancy,’ Mia said, stopping at the reception desk.

  Eva rolled her eyes, unsurprised that Mia made it her business to be on first name terms with the women behind the desk.

  ‘Oh, Mrs. Harte, I’m so glad you’re here,’ the receptionist said softly.

  Mrs. Harte. Ouch! Hearing Mia officially bear that title hurt Eva more than she thought it would.

  ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning,’ the receptionist continued.

  Even from the back, Eva could see Mia tense.

  ‘Is everything all right,’ Mia said, taking a step back.

  ‘Absolutely. It’s good news. Mr. Harte is conscious.’

  ‘What?’ Mia slammed her coffee against the top of the desk, spilling some down the side of the white paper cup. ‘Why did no one call me?’

  ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning, Mrs. Harte, but your phone is going straight to voicemail.’

  Mia pulled her phone out of her skinny, blue jeans pocket. ‘I don’t have any missed calls.’ Mia turned her phone around and practically shoved the screen in Nancy’s face.

  ‘Oh, Mrs. Harte. I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to get you on your landline...on the number Mr. Harte gave us.’

  Mia snapped the yellow Post-it out of the receptionist’s hand and crumpled it up and flung it back at her. ‘That’s not my number. You’ve been trying to call his bloody housekeeper.’

  ‘I…I…I’m sorry, Mrs. Harte. I was only doing as I was asked. Mr. Harte’s mobile is missing. But he insisted on making some personal calls from the hospital line. Maybe your phone was out of service,’ the receptionist said, looking like she wanted to run away.

  Eva’s face brightened. Julian had called her. He’d called her and not Mia. Wife or not, he didn’t extend Mia that consideration.

  ‘I need to see him. RIGHT NOW,’ Mia snapped, furiously.

  ‘Of course. I’ll release the doors now,’ the receptionist replied.

  ‘My son is still in the canteen. He’ll be up in a minute. Can you let him know I’ve gone in? Ask him to wait out here for me, please?’ Mia said as she walked away from the desk.

  ‘Of course. No problem. He can sit with me.’

  Mia didn’t reply; she just charged through the doors aggressively.

  ‘Son?’ Eva stuttered as soon as Mia disappeared from view.

  ‘Yeah, I heard that, too.’ Shelly said, equally wide-eyed. ‘I can’t believe Mia has a kid.’

  ‘Julian’s? Do you think he’s Julian’s son?’

  ‘Oh Jesus, Eva. I don’t know. No! No, I don’t think so. I can’t see Julian as a father.’

  ‘I couldn’t see him as a husband either, but what do you know, turns out he had wife all along.’ Eva gasped.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Eva zipped up the khaki parka jacket that she’d borrowed from Shelly and tossed the fur lined hood over her head, looking like a snug Eskimo. Suddenly, she was colder than she’d been in a long time. ‘I’m going to get the hell out of here. Can we go? Can we just get the hell out of here? Now. Please!’

  Chapter 6

  ‘Is there anyone I can call for you, Mr. Harte?’ the polite, young surgeon said running the tube of her stethoscope through her fingers.

  Julian’s forehead pinched as he watched her. She didn’t realise she was doing it. Maybe it was a subconscious habit. She seemed like a sweet girl. Julian imagined delivering bad news must have been very hard for her. Maybe she was in the wrong profession.

  ‘I’m still capable of making a phone call, Doctor.’

  ‘Of course, Mr. Harte…I didn’t mean any offense.’

  Julian sighed. Of course. God, those words were so redundant.

  ‘Is my wife waiting outside?’

  ‘Yes. She’s just in the corridor. Would you like me to fetch her for you?’

  Julian shook his head. ‘No. No, thank you.’

  ‘I understand. I’m sure this must be very hard. Take all the time you need.’ The doctor smiled, awkwardly, like she wanted to be friendly and understanding, but she wasn’t sure if smiling was the appropriate gesture under the circumstances.

  ‘Water?’ she said, pouring some from the cooler near the door before waiting for Julian’s reply.

  ‘Water? Seriously? I’m thinking something a little stronger.’ Julian smirked.

  ‘I can check your chart, but I think you’re not due pain meds for another couple of hours. Are you in pain?’

  ‘I meant alcohol, Doctor. But, hell, I’ll take the drugs if you’re offering.’

  The doctor laughed reluctantly. ‘You’re taking the news exceptionally well, Mr. Harte. Have one of the other doctors already spoken to you?’

  ‘No. You’re the first white coat to visit today, Dr. Simmons,’ Julian said reading the name tag just above the doctor’s left breast.

  ‘Of course. I’m sorry…’ The doctor looked confused, as she scanned the chart hanging on the end of the bed. ‘I’ve just never seen anyone react so calmly to this kind of news before.’

  ‘Would it change your diagnosis if I reacted differently?’

  The doctor lowered her head, pressed her lips together, and her warm smile saddened around the edges. ‘No, I’m afraid not.’

  Julian closed his eyes and sighed roughly. He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. He’d made his point quite clearly. Tears or a tantrum weren’t his style. But his mind was racing. Work and Eva were his main concerns. He’d have a lot of tidying up to do. Fuck!

  ‘I’ll arrange for one of our counsellors to come by later this afternoon,’ the doctor said softly.

  ‘Can your counsellor offer an opposing diagnosis to yours?’

  The doctor lowered her head once again. Julian shook his head. She was too soft for this kind of shit. She was struggling to control the twitching of her fingers.

  ‘Unfortunately, the diagnosis is final, Mr. Harte.’

  ‘Well then, I’d prefer if you didn’t waste the counsellor’s time or mine.’

  ‘But you can discuss any concerns you may have.’

  ‘You’ve just told me that I’m dying, Dr. Simmons. The only concern I have is that I would rather not.’

  The doctor drank from the cup she was still holding, gasping as she drained the contents in one continuous gulp.

&n
bsp; Julian wasn’t intentionally making her nervous, but it didn’t take a genius to work out that he had that effect on her. Her reaction was rather unsettling, especially given the circumstances. He’d try to be less intimidating. Less himself.

  ‘We have options we can explore,’ she said. Crumpling the cup and dropping it into the bin near the door, she slowly walked back towards Julian’s bed. Stopping before she got too close.

  ‘Explore?’ Julian snarled, failing in his attempt to be less himself.

  The doctor cleared her throat. ‘Mr. Harte, I’m afraid your kidneys are failing. That is a fact.’

  Julian liked her more when she got her head out of her ass and just spat the information out. None of this beat around the bush to protect his feelings shit. He just wanted to hear the bottom line.

  ‘And the rest of the facts, Dr. Simmons? Whenever you’re ready.’

  ‘The stab wound was minor, Mr. Harte. You can probably see that yourself from how neatly the tear has been stitched.’ The doctor edged closer and pointed towards Julian’s fresh, red scar.

  Julian instinctively gazed at his side where some blue, wire-like stuff weaved in and out of his skin, piecing him back together. ‘But…’ Julian said casting his attention back to the doctor.

  ‘But...there were complications.’

  ‘The delay getting to the hospital?’ Julian didn’t regret that complication; he’d take that risk again in a heartbeat if it meant getting Eva to safety.

  ‘Yes, the time lapse wasn’t ideal. But, like I said, the wound was minor. And if it was a simple stabbing then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’

  ‘So, what exactly is causing my kidneys to freak out and decide to take early retirement, Dr. Simmons?’

  ‘Well, initially we were confused by your blood’s inability to clot.’

  ‘I like my whiskey, Doctor, but I doubt even I drink enough to cause haemophilia,’ Julian joked dryly.

  ‘Actually, Mr. Harte, that was our first suspicion. Not that you like to drink, just that you might have had a clotting disorder.’

  ‘Well, I don’t. So, your other theory?’