by Desiree Holt
“Some hot tea would be nice, if you could. And thank you.” Maybe she could drown herself in an ocean of the stuff.
“Tea it is. Coming right up.”
She realized as she sipped the hot liquid, she would now always associate it with Luke. She hoped she would still be able to drink it without crying. The tea seemed to settle her still-jumbled stomach enough so she could relax a little, but it did nothing to rid her of the feeling of despair creeping over her. Would she be punished if she wished Charles in hell? Because that’s exactly where he kept sending her.
When the plane landed, she pushed her way through the lines, apologizing as she went, and raced for ground transportation and a cab. She needed to assess the situation and try to make some plans.
“Methodist Hospital,” she told the driver. “And please hurry.”
* * * *
The snowstorm demanded Luke’s attention as he headed out of Boston, but not enough to keep thoughts from clogging his mind. Julia’s face kept floating in front of him. His lips still burned from their kisses, his skin branded by her touch. Watching her leave, walk away from him, was like having his heart ripped out of his chest.
Knowing Julia, sharing himself with her in more ways than the physical, made returning to his solitary life a difficult task. When he’d walked away from his wreck of a marriage, solitary seemed like the best choice. It had taken him far too long to realize what a shallow woman he’d married. By then their two sons were born and the chain around his neck was firmly in place. He’d stayed believing whatever the cost, no other man would raise his children.
But things hadn’t worked out quite the way he’d expected. His sons were in Alabama with Patty and she’d done her level best to ruin any relationship between them. With Julia, he saw hope for the future. A life he’d never thought he’d have.
Damn Charles anyway.
The closer he got to his condo, the more uptight he felt. Life had apparently decided to kick him in the teeth again and he needed to figure out how to handle it.
* * * *
Julia paused at the entrance to the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit waiting room. Forcing herself to breathe slowly, she slowed the accelerated pace of her heart, wet her lips, and swallowed. For this, she needed to be in control of herself. Every available seat seemed to be filled, but she spotted Claire in a corner, leaning back, eyes closed. She walked over to her and touched her shoulder gently.
“Oh!” Claire startled, then focused her eyes as she recognized Julia. “Oh, my God. Julia.” She stood and hugged her friend. For a moment, the two women took strength from each other.
“Why are you still here?” Julia asked. “You must be exhausted. Not to mention the fact your husband is probably wondering where you are.”
“Brad’s fine. He was here, too, as a matter of fact, but I finally sent him home. I figured you’d rather have just me.”
“Thank you for that.” Julia motioned toward the doorway with her hand. “Can we go into the hallway and talk?”
Claire nodded. They walked to the far end of the corridor and paused near a tall window, wet with the rivulets of rain skating down the surface.
All of her crises seemed to occur on rainy days.
“All right.” She touched Claire’s arm. “Tell me everything.”
“Okay. I had to pry this out of the jackass he was with.” Claire rubbed her forehead, an effort to sort out her jumbled thoughts. “He and Rod McGuire apparently were having dinner at the Downtown Club, then ran into a couple of clients and sat in the bar talking with them for a long time. Charles got up to say goodbye, grabbed his chest, and fell down in terrible pain. McGuire called an ambulance and they brought him here.”
Rod McGuire, of all people. Damn.
Not only Charles’s partner, but his oldest friend. They had been friends since they were toddlers, playing together, supervised by one nanny or the other. They’d gone through boarding school, college, and law school together. Now they were law partners, in practice with their fathers. Julia knew strong friendships formed under those circumstances. The first time she met Rod, however, she’d sensed an allegiance that went beyond that. A loyalty from Rod that might be admirable if she knew what brought it about. Something stronger than normal friendship, that was for sure. The man was also a consummate snob, as was everyone else in their circle. When Charles married Julia, Rod had made it patently clear he thought she was a poor choice and he’d never bothered to mask his dislike.
“Oh, God.” Julia bit her lip. “It’s the divorce. I know it is.” A feeling of blame surged through her, trailing nausea in its wake. Apparently, she was one of those people destined never to have real happiness in their lives. When she reached for it, everything else went to hell.
“Stop it.” Claire’s voice was sharp. “Get this through your head. Nothing you did caused what happened. Nothing. Are we clear? This would have happened no matter what.”
“If you say so.” Julia took a deep breath and let it out. “All right. Go on.”
“About three in the morning, McGuire finally figured someone should call the house and let you and the children know what was happening.”
“Charles didn’t know I was out of town,” Julia told her in a low voice. “I’m glad they brought him here. His doctor is on staff.”
“McGuire filled out the insurance papers. He sure wasn’t happy to see me. Told me bluntly he’d handle everything and I could go home.” She made a sound of disgust. “Said I didn’t have any business here but it would be nice if Charles’s wife showed up.”
“He knows about the divorce.” Anger crawled up her spine. “Everyone does.”
“He was just being an arrogant ass. Ignore him.”
“I don’t know how to thank you for coming down here.” She hugged Claire again.
“I didn’t want you to walk into this by yourself with no one but the Ice Man for company.”
“What have you been able to find out?”
“By the time Dr. Vinoy got here, Charles was in Emergency and stabilized. Then Vinoy called in a top cardiologist. I have his card here someplace.” She dug around in her purse, produced a thin piece of pasteboard. “Insisted he give it to me. Rombauer. Ethan Rombauer. He left a message for us to page him when you got here.”
“This is my fault.” Julia chewed at her bottom lip again. “God is punishing me, I just know it.”
“Julia.” Claire’s voice, though heavy with fatigue, was sharp. “I won’t even allow you to go there. God doesn’t hand out heart attacks or anything else as punitive measures. That’s your father talking in your head, bullying you and your mother. Stop it right now. In no way are you responsible for this.” She shook her head. “I was surprised to discover Charles has a heart at all.”
“Claire! My God!”
“I know, I know. Don’t speak ill and all that garbage. But I will not permit you to take this on yourself. Charles is a big boy. He knows enough to take care of his health. Whatever happened is on him. And you deserve to have a good life without him.”
“But not this way.” An image of Luke flashed in her brain, his warm smile, his dark eyes. She’d been so excited at the possibility of a future with him. Apparently, Fate had decided to punish her for looking to a new future. Her emotions were a mixture of anger and depression. Why me? she wanted to cry out. Hadn’t she done enough penance for making such a poor choice the first time?
The weight of guilt pressed heavily on her. She’d gone from one man’s loving, virile arms to another’s critical condition in a few short hours. She couldn’t separate her stolen happiness from the unfolding disaster.
“What’s going on now?” She looked around for someone to ask. “I need to find out what his situation is. Can I see him?”
“Come. I’ll take you to the CICU. Then we’ll get them to page Rombauer.”
But before they could enter the CICU, they were confronted by Rod McGuire, looking like a thundercloud
come to life. He planted himself in front of Julia, rage burning in his eyes. She had a feeling if he could get away with it he’d kill her on the spot.
“It’s about damn time,” he ground out. “I stayed until you finally got here. I’m just thankful Charles was with someone when this happened.”
Just what she needed, the devil himself. Julia clenched her fists, digging for some semblance of control.
“Thank you for taking care of things, Rod. I appreciate it.”
He glared at her. “Maybe if you’d been here with him instead of who the hell knows where, none of this would have happened.” His eyes were like twin flames. “They won’t let me in because I’m not family, but I told the cardiologist I’ll be calling regularly for updates. Someone has to make sure Charles is being cared for properly. And you’d better not shirk your damn responsibilities.”
“Rod, I—”
“Stop it, Rod.” Claire took Julia’s arm and dragged her away. “She doesn’t need this right now. We’ll keep you informed.”
“Oh, God.” Julia was glad for Claire’s physical support. The force of Rod’s verbal attack nearly fractured her.
“Forget him,” Claire told her in a furious whisper. “And pay no attention to anything he said. He’s a jackass, just like I always thought. Come on, let’s find out what’s going on.”
The CICU was a row of cubicle-like rooms. Each one glass-fronted, to give the nurses at the central station an unimpeded view of the patients. Nurses in scrubs of various colors either sat at the long central console or moved about in the patients’ rooms performing required tasks. Unconsciously, Julia wrinkled her nose against the acrid, medicinal smell—common to hospitals—permeating the area.
“May I help you?” One of the nurses approached quietly, and without seeming to, effectively blocked their path.
“This is Julia Patterson, Charles Patterson’s wife.” Claire waved sketchily in the general area of Charles’s bed. “She’s just arrived from the airport and would like to see her husband.”
“Of course.” The nurse turned to Julia. “We’ve been expecting you. Dr. Rombauer left a message to page him as soon as you arrived. Let me take you in to your husband, then I’ll make the call.”
“Thank you.” Julia bit her lip. “Will… Will he know I’m here?”
“He might.” She smiled. “Even if they’re heavily medicated it helps for them to have human contact. Touch his hand. He’ll sense it. Come on. I’ll take you to him.”
Claire squeezed Julia’s arm. “I’ll wait outside. I don’t want to see him, anyway. I might be tempted to finish him off myself.”
“Claire!” Julia protested.
“Go on, sweetie. Do your thing. I’ll wait for you over there.” Claire indicated some chairs against a far wall.
“Okay. And…thanks.”
Charles was in the cubicle at the absolute center of the area. The nurse led Julia to a place beside his bed and slid a chair over for her to sit in.
“He looks so still.”
The nurse nodded. “He’s been given a lot of medication to keep him sedated. Right now it’s best for him. I’m sorry, the most we allow for visiting is five minutes at a time. The doctor should be here by then, however.”
Julia stared at him, lying there silent and pale, surrounded by a variety of machines that beeped, dinged, or fed fluids into his system. His blond hair was uncharacteristically rumpled, his face drawn and darkened by an emerging stubble of beard. He looked almost shrunken in the ubiquitous hospital gown, as still as if life had already left him behind. She might not love him any longer but seeing him in this condition she could at least have empathy for what happened.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyelids. Fatigue, she told herself. And despair at the downturn her life had taken once again. She’d stopped crying over Charles years ago.
His chest rose and fell evenly, and if not for the lines of pain etched deeply on his face and the vast array of technology keeping him alive, she might have thought him simply sleeping. How difficult it was to realize, less than twenty-four hours ago, the man who lay like death in the hospital bed was a domineering force in her life. Even a frightening one. God surprises us all, she thought.
“Charles?” She wet her lips and tried again. “Charles, can you hear me? It’s Julia.”
No response. Not even a twitch of his fingers.
She forced herself to sit quietly, speaking softly to him, hardly even aware of what she said. It seemed only moments passed before the nurse was beside her again, signaling her time was up.
A tall, cadaver-thin man waited just outside the glass door.
“I’m Dr. Rombauer, Mrs. Patterson.” He shook her hand. “Let’s find a place to sit down so I can fill you in on your husband’s condition. You look exhausted.”
“I’ve just flown in from Boston. I was there on a business trip.” Not to mention the most incredible pleasure she’d ever experienced. “I don’t understand how this happened. Charles always seemed in excellent health.”
“Unfortunately, that’s often the case.”
Claire rose as they came toward her. “I’ll wait in the hall so you can talk.”
“No. Please stay.” Julia needed the support of Claire’s presence. She turned back to Rombauer. “You’ve already spoken to Mrs. Westbrook and I’d prefer to have my friend here with me.”
“Your call.” He nodded.
Julia perched tensely on the edge of her chair watching Rombauer open the chart in his hand.
“I’ll try to explain this as clearly as I can,” he began. “What your husband suffered is what you call a heart attack and we call a myocardial infarction. In some cases it’s mild, in others it’s a lot more severe.”
“And in Charles’s case?” she asked.
“I’m afraid his is in the latter category.”
He went on to explain in detail about Charles’s condition. Hands gripped tightly in her lap, throat dry, Julia listened, but after a few minutes, the words seemed to blend. She could barely distinguish one fact from another.
“I appreciate the abundance of detail, Dr. Rombauer, but can you just give me some kind of simple prognosis? My mind isn’t functioning too well right now.”
He closed the chart and looked at her carefully, a clinical assessment. “Of course, forgive me.” He paused. “Were you aware your husband was being treated for high blood pressure?”
Julia tried to conceal the shock she felt. “I was not. Charles never mentioned a word to me.” And how like him to conceal any evidence of imperfection lest it be seen as a chink in his armor. “But we’re separated. I don’t know if anyone’s told you. Our divorce is practically final.”
He raised his eyebrows. “No, I wasn’t made aware of that. Maybe I should be meeting with someone else?”
“No.” She shook her head. “He’s still the father of my children and a part of the family circle.”
“All right, then.” He leaned back in the chair. “I’ve discussed this with Dr. Vinoy. Apparently, Mr. Patterson’s been taking medication for three or four years. When he was diagnosed, his blood pressure was dangerously high and Dr. Vinoy stressed to him the importance of keeping it under control.”
Julia tried to process what he said. Rombauer droned on about the high blood pressure as the underlying cause of the heart attack, the loss of blood to the heart muscle, and its subsequent damage. Scar tissue. Restrictive blood flow. Congestive heart failure. She felt as if she’d been dropped into a medical drama without the benefit of a script.
Swallowing twice to wet her dry throat, she asked, “How long will it take him to recover? Will this be a long process? What kind of care will he need?”
The look of kindness in Rombauer’s eyes was the signal, and she braced herself.
“I’m afraid there is just too much damage to the heart.” He shook his head. “There is no way for it to recover.”
Shock ran through her.
“He’s going to die.” A statement, not a question.
“Probably within six months.”
Julia’s head spun, making her dizzy and faint. The room spun slightly. Only Claire’s hand on her arm steadied her.
“Surely with the number of advances in modern medicine,” she protested, “there’s some way to fix this.”
Rombauer shook his head. “More than three quarters of the heart is damaged. The only option would be a transplant, but even if we could find a donor match, your husband is not a good candidate for the surgery.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The lab tests revealed a rare blood condition making surgery of any kind risky, and cardiac surgery prohibitive. The best we can offer Charles is medical attention to keep him comfortable.”
Rare blood condition? How had she never known this? What else had he kept from her in his drive for perfection? Something else suddenly jumped into her mind.
“Has anyone called his parents?”
“I did,” Claire told her. “I waited until it was light. I know how they hate having their sleep disturbed.” She could barely keep the distaste from her voice.
“Are they coming to the hospital?” How on earth was she going to deal with them?
“Oh, sure.” She made a face. “On their schedule. They told me they needed time to compose themselves first.”
Julia refused to imagine the scene she’d face when the elder Pattersons arrived. They would blame her, of course. Normal behavior for them. Everything wrong in their lives could be laid at her doorstep. Of course she’d never hear the end of her trip out of town. A wife’s place is with her husband. She should have had it tattooed on her backside. Well, her place wasn’t there any more, even if they chose to ignore the divorce proceedings.
Their arrival would be an intrusion into the routine of the hospital. Without concern for other patients and their families, Howard would demand attention in his loud, authoritarian voice. Elise would stand like a carefully placed wax mannequin, totally unmoving, nodding her head to punctuate each of her husband’s words. He would use his power to threaten doctors and nurses with dire consequences if they didn’t rush to do his bidding where his son was concerned. As a former member of the hospital board, whatever he said carried a lot of weight.
