by Rula Sinara
“How about if I stay with her? If she wakes up before you get back, I can send you a text or whatever...and she won’t be alone.”
Leave it to Sam to know exactly what she—and Ciara—needed.
“That’d be nice. Thanks, Sam.”
“I’m happy to help out.”
She believed him. Which only made it harder to think of a time when he wouldn’t be around to help out.
“You’d better get movin’ before I change my mind. I hate these hideous things,” he said, settling into the ugly pink chair beside the bed.
“I wish you’d change your mind about...”
Finn couldn’t believe she’d said the words aloud and ducked out of the room before he had a chance to respond.
And before she had time to wonder which emotion had caused that wide-eyed expression on his handsome face...relief? Or dread?
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
FINN WOULD HAVE recognized that shrill, gravelly voice anywhere. Years of smoking and drinking had taken a toll on her body...and her throat.
“Misty,” Finn said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” She stepped up to Connor’s bedside. “You called her?”
“Well, yeah. I figured she’d want to know. She is Ciara’s mother.”
Finn wondered if Misty, too, had picked up on his unspoken, like it or not. Probably not, based on the way she was studying her newly manicured talons.
But wait. If Misty knew that her youngest daughter had just undergone brain surgery, why was she here, pestering Connor, instead of checking on Ciara?
“Have you checked into your room?”
“Yes, and I don’t know how you found time to book it, with all that’s been going on.”
“It gave me something to do to keep my mind off everything,” Finn admitted.
Misty fluffed her overprocessed curls and batted heavily mascaraed eyelashes. “Oh, it’ll do, I suppose.”
Finn read between the lines. If she’d been so distracted that she’d forgotten to call in the reservation, it would have provided Misty with the perfect excuse to move herself—and Carl—into the apartment. Connor must have sensed it, too; he huffed and shook his head. “Sheesh, Misty. Least you could do is pretend to be grateful. This kid works hard for every dime, thanks to the two of us. God only knows what she’s giving up so you’ll have a clean, safe place to sleep.”
“I could stay with the girls free if you weren’t—”
“So what did your doctor say?” Finn asked Connor.
He frowned and shot a sideways glance at his ex. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Finn could hardly blame him. No matter how serious or simple his condition, Misty would find a way to make herself the center of attention...while belittling Connor in the process.
“Did he say when you can go home?”
“She. And let me tell you, if I was twenty years younger...”
“And twenty IQ points smarter,” Misty snapped. “You’ll never change, will you? I bet you’ll die at the ripe old age of ninety-eight...chasing some floozy.”
Connor continued as if Misty hadn’t spoken. “She’s putting the paperwork through right now, so I reckon I’ll be out of here within the hour.”
“You reckon right,” said a pretty young woman. She scribbled something on Connor’s chart, then faced Finn. “Dr. Daugherty,” she said, extending her right hand. “You must be his daughter.”
“Finn,” she said, shaking her hand.
“And this is?” the doctor asked, turning to Misty.
“The wicked witch of the world,” Connor ground out.
Daugherty ignored his sarcasm and said to Misty, “I take it you’re here to visit your younger daughter.”
“A person would think a hospital as big as Vanderbilt would have more than one doctor. What do you know about Ciara?”
“Only what Connor told me. Would you mind waiting in the hall for a few minutes? I need to give him a last once-over before I cut him loose.”
“You’re joking, right? We were married. For what seems like an eternity.” She snickered. “I’ve seen it all before.”
“Be that as it may,” the doctor said, nodding toward the door, “it’s hospital policy.”
“Fine.” Misty grabbed her purse and faux leopard jacket, spike heels click-clacking across the tile as she stormed toward the exit. Just shy of the door, she paused. “Are you coming with me?” she asked Finn.
“Not yet.”
“Fine. Then just tell me what room Ciara’s in.”
“She isn’t in a room yet. If you can wait a few minutes until I’ve had a chance to talk to Dr. Daugherty, I’ll walk to Recovery with you.”
Misty glared at the doctor. “You mean she gets to stay?”
“I’m going to close the curtain, of course, but unless Connor has a problem with it, yes, she gets to stay.”
“Well?” she said, aiming that steely gaze at him.
“You’ll be all right for a few minutes.”
“Fine,” she said, pointing at the hall again. “I’ll just be out there. Alone. Waiting by the restrooms.”
Daugherty closed the door. “Wow. If she’s a regular part of your life, no wonder you had a panic attack.”
Finn said, “You’re sure it wasn’t anything more serious?”
“Positive. Despite his history, he’s as healthy as the proverbial horse.” She pulled the screen around the bed, leaving Finn on the outside.
Despite his history? It meant that Connor had been honest with the doctor. Finn saw it as a sign that maybe, this time, he really was on the road to recovery.
“I didn’t want to ask in front of Misty,” he said through the curtain, “but how’s Ciara, honey?”
“She was talking and joking when I left her.” And dreaming about yellow dresses and daisy-themed bridal bouquets. “Still groggy from the anesthesia, but that’s to be expected.” Knowing that stress had been responsible for the panic attack, she decided against going into detail about the catheter still delivering clot-busting drugs into Ciara’s brain. “Dr. Peterson assured us she’ll be fine.”
“Us?”
“Oh. Well, Sam came and found me after he dropped you off. He sat with me all night. When Ciara fell asleep just now, he offered to stay with her so she’d have someone she knows nearby if she wakes up while I’m here with you.”
“Now, why doesn’t that surprise me? I really like that boy. He’s good people. You could do worse. So, if he pops the question...”
“If he does, I might demand a psych evaluation.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What sane, rational man would attach himself to the loony Leary family? Besides, why would he stay here when that big-shot producer is going to line him up with tours and albums?”
“Did he tell you that?”
“No, but he’s a walking, talking, singing bundle of talent. He deserves to see his dreams come true.”
The doctor threw open the privacy divider and announced, “All finished. Soon as you’re dressed, you’re free to go.”
“Just like that?” He buttoned his right shirt cuff. “No bed rest? No meds? No follow-up exam?”
Grinning, she handed him a business card. “Now that you can recognize the symptoms—you remember we talked about that—give me a call if they crop up again. Otherwise, I’d say keep away from angry ex-wives, and you’ll be fine.”
He buttoned the other cuff and shook the doctor’s hand. “Thanks, Doc. You’re the best.”
The minute she was gone, Connor closed the door again. “All right,” he said, sitting to pull on his boots, “give it to me straight. What should I expect when I walk into Ciara’s room?”
Finn relayed an abbreviated version
of the information Peterson had provided. “One really great surprise that came out of all this is that even though Ciara talked a blue streak once she came to, she didn’t repeat herself.”
He got up and grabbed her shoulders, giving her a little shake. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Connor buried his face in the crook of her neck, and for what seemed like a full minute, he wept like a small boy.
“It’s another sign,” he said, plucking a stiff tissue from the dispenser on his nightstand.
“A sign?”
He blotted his eyes. “That if I play my cards right, I might get a start on making amends with you girls.”
Tears stung Finn’s eyes, too. “Cards?” she teased. “Don’t tell me you’ve traded gambling for drinking!”
He hugged her. Tight. “Don’t worry. I don’t have a lucky bone in my body. And you know as well as I do that I don’t have a poker face.”
Finn counted her blessings: Ciara would be fine, and from the looks of things, she had her dad back.
With any luck, things would work out between her and Sam, too...
If she could figure out how to send him off to reach his musical goals while holding him close enough to secure their future together.
CHAPTER THIRTY
AGGIE JACKSON BLOCKED Misty’s path. “Saw that frizzy blond head from all the way down the hall,” she said, jerking a thumb over one shoulder, “and said to myself, ‘What’s she doing in town?’”
“I’m here to see Ciara, of course.”
Neither woman seemed to notice Finn’s and Connor’s approach.
“Oh, please. Spare me. You know what they say about fooling some of the people some of the time. I heard all about how Finn had to put you and your new boyfriend up in a hotel.”
“You didn’t get that from her. Finn isn’t a gossip.”
“Matter of fact, you’re right—for a change. Friend of mine runs the Embassy. Said you and some long-haired freak checked in with a bunch of ragtag suitcases. Now out with it—what are you really doing here?”
Misty tried to maneuver around her, but didn’t succeed. “Listen, old woman, I don’t owe you any explanations. Now step aside, because I’m not above moving you forcibly.”
Connor walked up and assumed a referee’s pose. “Hey, now, what’s the hubbub all about? This place is full of sick people. You oughta be ashamed of yourselves.”
Both women took in the dozen or so onlookers who had gathered.
Misty put her back to them. “I’m on my way to Ciara’s room.”
Aggie hugged Connor. “You’re lookin’ pretty good, Leary. Clean livin’ agrees with you.”
“Thanks, and ditto. So what brings you to Vanderbilt today?”
“Why, that sweet girl of yours, of course. When I stopped at The Right Note and Rowdy told me what happened, I just had to stop by.” She held up a small pink bag. “And bring a little something to cheer her up.” She turned to Finn. “How’s she doing?”
“Her doctor says she’s doing great. Hopefully we can take her home soon.”
“Wait. What’s this about a test? I didn’t hear anything about a test.” Misty stamped a high-heeled foot. “Why doesn’t anyone ever tell me anything?”
“Maybe,” Aggie said, “because you don’t ask. And maybe because they don’t want to encourage you to hang around.”
Connor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Times like these, I could use a good, stiff drink.”
Misty snickered and showed him the cap of a silver flask. “Say pretty please, and I might share.”
He held up a hand. “No, thanks. I’m done with that stuff.”
“Hmph. Where have I heard that before?”
“Come back in a year and ask your question again. On second thought, don’t.”
“I’ll be in LA a year from now.” She inspected her fingernails. “It just so happens that I have an audition with a major Hollywood producer...thanks to Carl.”
“When will those big shots in Hollywood learn you can only produce so many witch movies and make a profit?”
“Aggie...”
“Sorry, Finn.” She shrugged and, facing Misty, said, “I’ll make you a deal. Give me fifteen minutes to say hi and deliver the present, and I’ll skedaddle. Seeing the two of us go at it is liable to set off a massive relapse.”
“I don’t want to wait for Finn to walk me down there. I’ll go alone. It’ll give me a chance to touch up my makeup.”
Aggie leaned close to Connor. “She needs a makeover. And it’ll take a whole lot longer than a few minutes.” She patted his arm and darted off to the elevators. “See you around, kiddo. And stick to your guns. You look better than you have in years.” The doors opened, and she stepped into the car. “Hey, Misty,” she hollered. “Do those sweet girls of yours a favor and leave town without making a spectacle of yourself.”
The doors slid shut, and Connor chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Misty demanded.
He looked at her, long and hard. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
With that, he made his way to the stairs, pausing in the doorway to say, “Fifteen minutes. You gave your word.”
“But...but what room is she in?”
“Room?” He chuckled. “If you’re here for the right reasons,” he said as the door swung closed behind him, “you’ll figure it out.”
* * *
“THAT’S TERRIFIC, SAM! I’m so proud of you! I knew you could do it!”
Sophie had a knack for lifting his spirits. Today, however, it wasn’t her contagious enthusiasm that prompted his call.
“Yeah, it’s an honor, just to be considered. Bernie doesn’t approach just anybody.”
“So when do you hit the road? Will the tour bring you to Denver? You won’t have to miss Nate’s wedding, I hope, because he’s really counting on you as best man. I’ll be disappointed, too, because it seems like forever since I’ve seen you! Oh! And what happens to your partnership at The Meetinghouse? And your students... Who will replace you at the academy?”
Laughing, Sam said, “Whoa. Slow down, girl. I can only answer one question at a time.” The fact was, he couldn’t tell her anything...yet.
“I need some sisterly advice.”
“Oh, cool...you know how much I love telling you what to do.”
“Did I tell you that Finn’s sister had a minor stroke?”
“No. But good grief. Is there such a thing as a minor stroke?”
“They’re called TIAs. Ciara was involved in a near-fatal car crash years ago, and it left her with permanent brain damage. Seems a blood clot was lurking, got loose and caused the stroke.”
“Poor Finn. She must be beside herself.”
“Things were touch and go for a while there, but Ciara’s doing great. Home from the hospital. Almost back to normal. In fact, better than before.” He explained how she no longer repeated words. Told her that Misty had shown up, then disappeared again without a word, how hard their dad was working to stay away from drugs and booze.
“Oh, Sam, what a mess! You want my advice? Stay away from the Learys. Get far, far away, as fast as you can.”
“I told myself the same thing. But then I got to know them. Ciara is amazing, and Connor is turning out to be a pretty good dad. And...” It should be simple, telling her he was in love with Finn. That he’d endure just about anything to keep her in his life. Why, then, couldn’t he find the words?
“Uh-oh.”
“Uh-oh, what?”
“You didn’t tell her, did you?”
Last time they’d discussed Finn, Sophie’s advice had been simple and straightforward: “Tell her how you feel.”
“No, I didn’t. Because I barely knew her then.” Allowing hims
elf to fixate on Aggie’s warning hadn’t helped move things forward, either.
“So?”
“So what?”
Sophie groaned. “Sam, Sam, Sam...unless I’m seriously mistaken, you’re in love with her. So what’s stopping you from telling her now?”
“Bernie.”
“Wait. What?” She snickered. “Help me out here. What does a record producer have to do with...” Sophie paused, then said, “Oh, wait just a minute here. I think I get it... Didn’t you tell me that Finn has a bad attitude toward musicians?”
“With good reason, but, yeah.”
“Am I to assume, then, that you haven’t told her about Bernie’s offer, either?”
“I had every intention of telling her. The very night he made the offer, in fact. But then her sister had the stroke, and her dad had a panic attack—I thought it was his heart, to be honest—and her mom got all wigged out because Aggie insulted her, and...”
Did this all sound as ridiculous to his sister as it sounded to him?
“Anyway, now that things are settling down, I thought I’d take her to dinner. Someplace nice. Alone for a change. Lay my cards on the table. See how she reacts.” And hope for the best.
“Let me ask you something, big brother.”
Sam waited.
“How much do you want this? The contract and everything that goes with it, I mean.”
“More than just about anything. It’s all I’ve thought about since, well, since I left Colorado and settled here in Nashville.”
“You won’t miss teaching?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Helping run the club?”
“Nah. The guys were doing fine before they brought me in as a partner. I don’t do much more than plug in the amps and test the mics anyway. They probably won’t even notice I’m not there.”
“Until they want to sing some dynamite three-part harmony, or need somebody to play some wild and crazy guitar licks like only Sam Marshall can.”
“This is Nashville, Soph. Guitarists and singers are a dime a dozen.”
“Yeah? Then, why did this Bernie guy single you out?”
“Because I’m a tall, blond, blue-eyed cowboy?”
