by Lili Valente
Bea gave me her number the day I woke up from the surgery. She’d spent the afternoon talking me down from bouts of panic and rage that frightened my parents and the other nurses, and seemed to understand how devastated I was in a way no one else could. At the end of her shift, she’d pressed her number into my hand and promised that she would always pick up the phone, no matter what time I needed to call.
I never used the number—knowing Bea would be back at nine almost every morning was enough to help me hold it together—but I have to use it now. I need answers, and Bea is the only person at the hospital that I trust to tell me the unvarnished truth.
I tap her number and put the phone to my ear, heart racing.
She picks up before the second ring and answers with a smile in her voice. “Mr. Gabriel! So nice to see your name this morning. How are you doing, sweet pea?”
“Much better, thank you, Bea,” I say, realizing it’s the truth. For the first time since the surgery, I feel nothing but hope for the future…assuming Caitlin and I can put the past to rest. “But I was hoping we could talk.”
“Of course,” she says, the words followed by the sound of a door closing. “Biscuit and I are just back from our walk. I can chat while I feed him, and get my lunch together.”
“Thanks,” I say, nervous now that I actually have her on the line. There’s a chance that this conversation will prove I was an asshole who abandoned Caitlin without a second thought, but I have to know the truth.
“Don’t be shy,” Bea says, when I’m silent a beat too long. “Never knew you to be shy. Cranky as hell in the morning, and damned fussy about your eggs, but never shy.”
I smile. “I’m not a morning person.”
She snorts. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“But I’m in a good mood this morning. Just looking for some answers, and I thought you might be able to help.”
“Assuming I can, I’m happy to,” she says. “As long as you’re not looking for confidential information on another patient, or wanting to know my dress size.”
“No, nothing like that.” I stand to pace the carpet beside the bed, too anxious to sit still. “I was wondering about when I first came to the clinic, about what kind of…head space I was in.”
Bea clears her throat. “Head space?”
I pace a little faster. “You know, did I seem upbeat and optimistic about the procedure or was I—”
“Hell no,” Bea interrupts. “Pardon my French, sweet pea, but upbeat and optimistic are the last words I’d use to describe you.”
My lips twist. I’m grateful Bea is as frank as I remember. “What words would you use? I’d be grateful to hear them. And don’t bother treading softly. I’m hunting hard truth this morning.”
Bea sighs. “Well…I can’t say I’ve ever met another pre-op like you, Gabe. Anxiety and depression are pretty common in patients getting ready to roll the dice with a surgery that has a better than average chance of ending badly, but you were…something else.”
“Something like…” I prod.
“The day you were rolled in, it was like a dark cloud took up residence in my wing,” Bea says, her Midwestern twang getting stronger the way it always did when she got riled up about something. “I swear, even the fluorescent lights seemed dimmer in your room.”
“But I signed the consent forms for the surgery,” I say. “I saw my signature the day I was released.”
“You did. No one was holding a gun to your head, but you wouldn’t have known it from the way you acted the day your dad brought you to check in.”
“So I wasn’t happy to be there?” I try to keep the relief from my tone, not wanting to bias Bea’s account.
“No, you weren’t happy. You were...” She’s quiet for a moment, before continuing in a soft, sad voice. “Haunted is the word that comes to mind. It was like your spirit had already shriveled up and died, and you were just waiting for your body to follow suit. I honestly didn’t expect you to make it through the surgery, honey. It’s hard enough when people want to live, let alone when they’ve already given up.”
I frown. “You don’t think I wanted to live?”
“Sure didn’t seem like it,” she says. “You did ask me for the hard truth. Let me know if you want me to start sugar coating.”
“No, I don’t want sugar coating, I just…” I shake my head. Surely I would have wanted to live. I knew Caitlin was still out there somewhere, waiting for me…didn’t I?
“Did I ever mention a woman to you, Bea?” I ask. “A girlfriend who was waiting on me back home, someone I cared about?”
“Not that I can remember,” she says, making my stomach knot before she adds, “But you did call out a girl’s name in your sleep that day before the surgery. Yelled it real loud a few times. I think it was…Kathy…Katy? Something like that?”
My bones melt with relief. “Caitlin?”
“Could have been. I’ve never been the best with names,” she says, grunting softly. “There you go, Biscuit. You be a good boy today, and don’t poop on my new rug again. This dog still isn’t going on the puppy pad, Gabriel. Can you believe that? I’m beginning to think you’re right, and I should have gotten a cat, instead.”
“Don’t listen to me, I was never allowed to have a pet, not even a fish,” I say, still distracted, wondering why I was in such a hopeless place. Was it because I assumed the surgery wouldn’t go well, or something more? And I still don’t know how my parents convinced me to have the surgery without at least calling Caitlin first.
They must have had ammunition of some kind. Something serious enough to make me play along, no matter how much I objected to their plans.
“Well, I think that’s a shame,” Bea says. “Every kid should have a pet. I had a collie when I was growing up, sweetest thing in the world, treated me like one of her puppies.”
“My parents aren’t fans of things that drool and smell,” I say with a grim smile. “Not human babies, let alone furry ones.”
Bea makes a disapproving sound. “Well, just between you and me, I’m not the biggest fan of your parents. A little too chilly for my taste. I know you rich people like to keep your feelings to yourselves, but…”
I laugh. “Not me. Not anymore.”
She coos, and I know she’d be pinching my cheek if we were in the same room. “Aw, Gabriel. You’re in love. Good for you, honey. You enjoy it and don’t look back. Those dark cloud days are behind you. It’s going to be clear sailing from here on out, I can just feel it.”
“I hope so, Bea.” I thank her and wish her a wonderful rest of her summer before hanging up and reaching for my shorts from the day before. I pull them on, stuff a room key into my back pocket, and pad barefoot down the hall to the two-bedroom suite at the end of the hall, where Sherry and the kids are staying, past ready to see Caitlin again.
Even a few hours apart feels like too much.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Gabe
I’m about to knock on the door when it opens from the inside, revealing a sleepy looking Sherry in bright orange pajamas that clash with her wild red curls.
“Oh, hey,” she says, laughing. “What’s up? I’m going down for coffee and cinnamon buns. You want anything?”
“Coffee would be great,” I say. “Do you need help carrying everything?”
“No, I can get it,” she says, waving a hand as she eases past me and I reach out to hold the door open. “And Caitlin would probably appreciate your help at drama central. She and Danny are out on the balcony talking again, and Isaac has called five times this morning. I don’t think Caitlin’s answering, but I can tell it’s stressing her out.”
Sherry turns to go, but spins back. “Oh, and the other boys are still asleep, but Emmie was making noises, so you might want to keep an ear out. I’m not sure Caitlin and Danny will be able to hear her out on the balcony. The traffic noise from the street is pretty bad.”
I smile. “Got it.”
I step into the suite, a larger
version of the room I checked into last night, with the same kitchenette area with a stove and refrigerator inside the door to the right. But instead of the bed straight ahead, there is a sitting room with a flat screen TV, and a sliding glass door leading onto a balcony. The curtains are closed, and I can’t see Caitlin and Danny outside, but I take Sherry’s word for it and head toward the sliding glass door.
Off the sitting room, there are two doors on either side, leading to the bedrooms. The one on the left is closed up tight, but the door on the right is ajar, and as I pass through the sitting room, I hear Emmie singing to herself. I can’t understand the words to the song, but the tune makes me smile.
I peek inside to find Emmie in the middle of one of the two queen beds, surrounded by stuffed animals, making a koala bear and a giraffe dance across the sheets. She looks up, grinning when she sees me at the door.
“Hi, Gabe,” she says. “Want to play animals?”
“How do you play animals?” I ask, moving into the room, which smells of Caitlin’s shampoo and lavender and other scents that make it clear this is a girly space.
“You take one, and I take one,” Emmie says, holding out the giraffe. “And then we pretend.”
I settle on the edge of the bed and take the giraffe. “What should we pretend?”
“Koko on a scary rollercoaster,” Emmie says, holding up the koala. “And Raff wants her to stop because he’s afraid she’s going to get hurt.”
Without holding for more questions, Emmie mimes strapping Koko into a rollercoaster and proceeds to exclaim how excited she is to ride in a high, squeaky voice I can only assume is the koala’s. Following her lead, I give Raff, the Giraffe, a high-pitched voice, and beg Koko to get off the rollercoaster before it’s too late.
Koko proves immune to reason, and Raff is forced to resort to bribes and then threats, but Koko is determined to stay on the scary rollercoaster, even though the car is getting ready to jump over a pit of hot lava. Raff is in the midst of a fit of hysterics, and Koko is giggling her head off, when laughter comes from the entrance to the bedroom.
“This may be the best game of scary rollercoaster animals I’ve ever seen.” I turn to find Caitlin leaning against the doorframe, smiling that loving smile that makes her look lit up from the inside. Even with dark circles under her eyes, she is still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Go away, Caitlin,” Emmie says, reaching out and fisting her hand in my shorts. “We’re playing now. You and Gabe can play later.”
“Well, thanks, Emmie,” Caitlin says, laughing. “Then, I guess I’ll make myself scarce. Just wanted you to know that Sherry is back with cinnamon rolls.”
“We aren’t hungry yet, thank you.” Emmie doesn’t release her grip, clearly intending to hold me prisoner, a fact that is ridiculously satisfying.
“We’ll play a little more,” I say, smiling at Caitlin. “As long as you don’t need me.”
Caitlin shakes her head. “No, I’m fine. Danny and I both talked to Sam on the phone again, and it seemed to calm her down. She’s going to sleep, and Danny’s going to call her later this afternoon.”
“What about the other calls?” I ask, not wanting to mention Isaac’s name.
Caitlin sighs and lifts a weary shoulder. “They keep coming, I keep not answering. Hopefully they’ll stop soon.”
“I made a call this morning, too,” I say. “To the clinic in Michigan where I had my surgery. I’ll tell you all about it over coffee in a few.”
Caitlin’s eyebrows drift up, but before she can speak, Emmie tugs on my shorts and says—
“Come on, Gabe. Let’s play.”
So we do, for another fifteen minutes, that turns into twenty when Koko is seriously injured right as I tell Emmie that Raff needs to take a break to eat breakfast. I finally convince Emmie to join me in the kitchen by agreeing that Koko and Raff can sit next to her on her stool at the counter. I carry Emmie and the animals into the other room and get them settled with a cinnamon roll, before turning to accept a coffee from Caitlin.
“Thank you,” I say before taking a grateful sip of the barely warm liquid.
Caitlin chuckles. “No one should have to play animals before coffee. It’s probably a form of torture in some parts of the world.”
I smile. “I had fun. Koko has a lot of personality.”
“Tell me about it,” Caitlin says, ruffling Emmie’s blond curls as the little girl digs into her cinnamon roll. “Once Koko, Raff, and Pooty started talking, we couldn’t get this one to stop.”
“Pooty?” I lift an eyebrow.
“You haven’t met Pooty?” Caitlin asks with a wicked grin. “Oh, but you will. Pooty is even louder than Koko. I’m sure you two will have a great time together.”
“I can go get him,” Emmie says, moving to slide off her stool before Caitlin stops her with a hand on her knee.
“Finish your breakfast first, okay? I need to talk to Gabe for a few minutes.”
Emmie frowns and holds up one icing-coated finger. “One minute.”
“Maybe more than one, but we’ll be done by the time you finish your cinnamon roll, I promise.” Caitlin takes my hand and leads me toward the balcony, past where the three boys are camped out on the couch watching TV while they eat, but a knock at the door stops her halfway across the room.
“Who could that be?” Caitlin asks, turning back to Sherry, who’s still in the kitchen. “You expecting someone?”
Sherry shakes her head. “No, I didn’t tell anyone where we were staying.”
Caitlin’s lips part, but before she can speak the knock comes again, more urgent this time. I step in front of her, instinctively wanting to protect her from whatever trouble might be at the door.
“Let me answer it.” I cross the carpet to open the door before Caitlin can protest, peering through the peephole to find a man in wrinkled khaki pants and a white polo shirt that’s a little tight across his rounded stomach.
I open the door a few inches. “Can I help you?”
“Good morning, is this Caitlin Cooney’s room?” the man asks with a benign smile. He looks harmless, but so did Ned Pitt, and I’m not about to let him at Caitlin until I know what he wants.
“Do you mind telling me who’s asking?” I say. “And why?”
The man pulls a manila envelope from behind his back. “I have a delivery. But I need to make sure it goes directly into Miss Cooney’s hands.”
“It’s okay, Gabe,” Caitlin says from behind me. I feel her cool fingers on my bare stomach and shift to the side, opening the door wide enough for her to stand beside me. “What’s the delivery?”
The man holds out the envelope, backing a step away the moment Caitlin has it in hand. “You’ve been served ma’am,” he says with another efficient smile.
“What?” Caitlin’s eyes go wide. “But I can’t—”
“Have a good day.” He turns, moving away down the hall, making a speedy getaway now that he’s dropped a bomb in the middle of our morning.
Caitlin cusses softly and smacks the envelope with one hand before ripping into the top with shaking fingers.
“Your sister already?” I ask, unable to think of anyone else who would be filing a legal suit against Caitlin.
Caitlin pulls out the paperwork, paling as she scans the pages. “She’s suing for custody, and she’s managed to get an expedited motion to get us into court for an initial hearing before we fly back.” She squeezes her eyes shut, and leans back against the doorframe. “She’s got a court date, and I don’t even have a lawyer.”
“I’ll make some calls right now,” I say. “I know a couple of people in Charleston that my father doesn’t care for, but who are supposed to be good. We’ll see if one of them will take the case. That way we can be sure they won’t carry the story back to my dad.”
Caitlin sighs, and her eyes slide slowly open, as if it’s an effort to move even those small muscles. “He’s going to find out sooner or later.”
“Let�
�s try to make it later, at least until I know how they convinced me to go to Michigan without calling to tell you goodbye.” I fill her in on my conversation with Bea, and watch her tired eyes grow troubled.
“They had something on you,” Caitlin says, echoing my thoughts. “Something big.”
“And I need to find out what before they try to use it again,” I say. “Assuming it’s the kind of blackmail that retains its effectiveness post brain-tumor.”
Caitlin sighs again, a longer, heavier sound this time. “Can’t anything ever be simple?”
I smile. “Yes. This morning will be. Go back to my room, and take a nap. I’ll take care of the lawyer, and start trying to dig up dirt on your sister.”
Caitlin shakes her head. “I need to run over to the department store and buy a hat. Or a scarf and glasses, something to wear to the funeral. Or maybe I shouldn’t go, after all.”
“I’ll take care of the hat, too,” I say, taking her by the shoulders and guiding her back down the hall. “You shouldn’t let my parents keep you from your father’s funeral if you want to go, and you shouldn’t start a day like today exhausted or every bad thing will seem worse.”
She smiles tiredly at me over my shoulder. “Are you sure this isn’t an excuse to take me back to bed?”
“Not this time,” I say. “But I will be reclaiming my shirt, so you’ll have to sleep naked.”
She lifts a brow. “Are you going to be able to resist if you see me naked?”
“No,” I confess as I open the door and urge her inside. “That’s why you’re going in, and handing the shirt back through a crack in the door.”
She laughs, but the sound fades quickly, and when she turns back to me, she looks scared. “Aoife can’t take Emmie away, can she? I mean, surely even she can see that Emmie is better off staying with the only family she’s ever known, right? Maybe if I try to talk to her again today, and keep my temper in check…”
