Love Is Lovelier

by Jean Brashear

  Watched his blood soak his clothing. Pool on the ground.

  She’d longed to touch him, that thick silver hair only microns away from fingers forbidden to make contact, to stroke him, reassure him. Only her voice was allowed to seek him out, and she’d put all her will into urging him to stay, not to leave her, not to die, though the blood had been everywhere—

  Stop it, Anne. She realized she was squeezing Judith’s hand nearly as hard as she’d gripped William’s in the ambulance. Begging him, cajoling—demanding him to live.

  She’d only had that one instant when his eyes had half opened to hope that he heard her. That somehow he knew that she was sorry to her depths, that she would regret forever if their last words had been—

  “Ms. Armstrong?” A voice from the doorway.

  Judith made a small, frightened sound.

  Anne’s head snapped up. She rose, along with Judith. Kept pace with her, though her legs would barely move.

  Her daughters crowded around her.

  She couldn’t read the doctor’s expression, and her heart stuttered. She found Judith’s hand, already grasping for her own.

  “Yes?” Judith said, her voice trembling.

  “Your father made it through the surgery.”

  Anne breathed for the first time. “His condition?”

  An expression of rue. “The bullet did more damage than it should have, perhaps a combination of the shooter’s position and the fact that Mr. Armstrong was apparently leaping at him when the gun went off.”

  Anne’s mind went back to that moment, to William’s roar of outrage, the look of determination and fury on his face.

  “He was,” she confirmed.

  “So, it came in at an angle, caught the spleen, pierced the liver and nicked a lung. A lot of bleeding, and a great deal of damage to repair. His condition is very serious. His age is a factor, though the fact that he’s kept himself in shape is very much to his advantage.”

  “But he will live, yes?” She forced herself to ask the question Judith seemed afraid to.

  “We’re very optimistic. He’s survived the worst of it. We’ll keep him in ICU at least overnight, then we hope to release him to the surgical floor tomorrow. He’ll need to be patient—”

  Anne couldn’t hear the rest in the clamoring of joy inside her and around her. Judith flung herself into Anne’s arms, and Anne held on tight, with her girls surrounding them both.

  Charlotte would get her the details later, for no matter how Charlotte felt about William, she would always be there for her mother. Anne hoped for a time when there would be less need for the support, but right now, she was profoundly grateful for every one of her daughters and the love they showered on her.

  Unexpectedly, her knees gave way; there was a rush to get her seated.

  “Mama—”

  “Oh, Mama, are you all right?”

  “Get the doctor back, Mel—”

  “Mrs. Marchand. Anne—”

  Anne heard them all, these daughters she loved, and the young woman who might become another one. But she was too busy to respond in the first instant.

  Thank you. Oh, thank you for saving him. Thank you for letting me have him back.

  A voice rose inside her head. Le bon Dieu shines on you, ma belle. He knows a good woman when he sees one.

  Oh, Remy…I don’t love you less, she thought.

  Mais yeah, my Annie. Of course not. How could you? I am one fine specimen, am I not?

  She could see his smile, so wide and beloved.

  It’s okay, isn’t it, Remy?

  A warmth spread within her. It’s okay, ma belle. You’re a woman meant to be loved.

  “Mama? Are you all right?”

  Anne snapped back to the circle of young women huddled around her.

  “Yes.” She smiled. “Absolutely fine.”

  “They’ll let us in to see him once he’s settled in ICU,” Judith said. “The two of us, if you’d like to go.”

  “Oh, indeed I would.” She passed a hand over Judith’s hair. “Thank you, chère.”

  Anne’s gaze ranged over her daughters. “And after Judith and I see William, perhaps you would take me home.”

  “About time,” Charlotte muttered.

  Anne smiled. Turned to Judith. “Would you like to come with us, chère? It’s not a night to spend alone. I have no extra bedrooms in my quarters, but we could try to find you a room at the hotel.”

  Judith glanced around at the others. “You’re very kind, but I can’t imagine that you have a single room empty, this close to Mardi Gras.”

  Anne looked to Charlotte.

  “Not a one.” She hesitated, clearly reluctant. Then she squared her shoulders. “I have an extra bedroom in my house. We have some things to discuss.”

  Judith met her gesture. “We do, but I don’t have all the answers. Only my father can explain everything.”

  “But we can start.”

  Judith nodded. “We can. But I think maybe I’ll go back…home. To his house.”

  “Will you be okay there, chère?” Anne asked. “It’s a very big place.”

  Judith smiled. “But it’s where I grew up. Where I feel closest to him.”

  “Fine.” Charlotte rose. “I’m going to check on the hotel.” She crossed to the door, and Anne was tempted to call her back and make her play nice.

  But at the door, Charlotte turned. Met her mother’s eyes first, then Judith’s. “I’m glad he’s going to make it,” she said.

  Anne sniffed back tears of pride. “Thank you, bébé.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Judith chimed in.

  ANNE HELD HERSELF upright through sheer force of will as they gained entry to the ICU hall. The corridors were wide and white and the stuff of science fiction.

  And cold. She shivered. Judith, beside her, walked like an automaton, staring straight ahead.

  Poor girl, all alone. William’s parents were dead, and his half sister Lily, a jazz pianist on tour, was stranded in Quebec City by a blizzard. There was a cousin, Jackson, who’d been Charlotte’s beau in high school, but he traveled the globe for an aid agency.

  Anne slipped her arm through Judith’s and received a frightened smile in exchange. “You’ve never been in here?” she asked.

  Judith shook her head.

  “Neither have I, but we’ll manage.”

  Judith nodded bravely. “We will.”

  Anne pressed her palm to the huge metal disc that would open the door and thought how proud William would be of his girl.

  The doors swung wide, and sterile white changed to an explosion of hums and dials and murmured voices. Anne sought out the first medical person they encountered. “William Armstrong?”

  The nurse glanced at a monitor. “He’s in seven—that way,” she pointed. “Kevin is his nurse.”

  They passed three cubicles, each with a forest of equipment so dense that it was hard to make out the body lying so still at the center. Just keep walking, Anne reminded herself. William is at the end of the journey.

  “They don’t move,” Judith murmured. “They could be dead.”

  Anne squeezed her arm. “But they aren’t. And he won’t be, either.” She couldn’t see a number anywhere. William, where are you? She felt dwarfed and weak from the night’s events. To think that hours before, she’d been primping for a date—

  Her eyes filled, and she blinked madly to clear them. They would have other dates. He would be whole again.

  He would, she insisted furiously.

  “Ms. Armstrong?” a kind male voice inquired. “I’m Kevin, your father’s nurse. And this is—?”

  Anne looked up. He was young, so young. “I’m Anne Marchand. William is my—” But what were they? What would they be?

  “Mrs. Marchand is my father’s companion,” Judith said. “My mother is dead, and he would want her here. She’s the person he was trying to rescue when—”

  Kevin’s eyes shifted to Anne. “And you’ve been injured yourself, am I
right?”

  “Nothing—” Anne had to clear her throat of the roughness “—nothing at all compared to what—” She blinked again, rapidly.

  “I suspect you should be in a bed yourself, but I understand. At any rate, the visit must be limited. Five minutes per hour in ICU, though this late at night, it would be a kindness both to him and yourself to wait again until morning to visit. But that’s entirely your call.”

  He gestured behind him. “Before I take you in, let me familiarize you with the situation. I’m sure all these machines look frightening, but I’ll explain what each is for when we get inside. For now, I need you to understand that Mr. Armstrong is unconscious and won’t likely awaken fully for several hours, due to the effects of the anesthesia required for surgery. He also has a breathing tube, so he wouldn’t be able to speak to you anyway, but as with much of what’s in there, it’s merely a precaution, allowing his body time to resume normal functions. All his strength should be directed toward the job of healing, and what we’re doing is merely assuming some of the duties to allow him to adjust to the impact of both the gunshot and the surgery to repair the damage.”

  He paused. “But it’s entirely possible that he can hear you, whether or not he can respond. And touch is always helpful to patients. Unfortunately, I’ll have to ask you to glove and gown as a precaution against infection, but he’ll still feel the pressure and warmth of the contact.” He smiled. “So—are you ready to see him?”

  They both nodded. He gave them disposable gowns and gloves, and Judith helped Anne out when she found herself too sore to reach up to tie her gown at the back of her neck.

  Then they were at the door of his cubicle, but Kevin still blocked their view. “I’ll be right outside.” He pointed to a computer on the other side of the glass wall. “We never leave them unmonitored, and each patient has his own nurse.” He stepped aside.

  Anne could see the shape beneath the blankets, so still. Her gaze traveled up the bed, and she barely stifled a gasp.

  Judith didn’t manage. “Oh, Daddy…”

  Anne grasped her arm and led her to the bed. Tubes and wires were everywhere, it seemed, and his face—

  She’d never seen William so immobile. The dynamic man, so powerful and energetic, was nowhere in sight. A breathing tube was taped to the corner of his mouth, and she could barely connect that mouth to the one that had made her tremble with pleasure.

  And his eyes, the beautiful blue of them, were shuttered. The only thing that looked like William was his hair, the mane she’d stared down at from behind his head as he bled his life away in the street.

  Oh, beloved. Please return to me.

  A sob crowded her throat, but Judith’s small moan snapped her back.

  “If he can hear us, chère, he needs only the positive.”

  Judith’s swimming eyes met hers. She bit her lip and nodded. Turned back to him. “I love you, Daddy. I’m so sorry—” She shook her head abruptly. Drew in a deep breath. “Anne is here with me, and you’re going to be fine. You made it through the surgery, and they’re taking good care of you.”

  She glanced at Anne, and Anne nodded her praise.

  Judith’s hand stole toward his, then gripped. “I’m here, Daddy. I love you so much.” Then her head rose. “Here’s Anne now.” And she backed away.

  Gratitude blurred Anne’s vision. This magnificent man had raised himself quite a girl. She patted Judith’s arm. “Thank you.” And moved to take her place.

  “William,” she began, bending near, sliding her fingers into his slack hand. So much she wanted to say. Apologies, promises, pleas.

  But those would come later. They were her needs, not his.

  His daughter might not welcome hearing this, but he had to hear what she’d been so hesitant to say before, until he lay bleeding at her feet.

  “I love you, William Armstrong. You say I’m a challenge, but you’ve—” Her voice cracked. She started again. “You’ve won, William. I’ve been afraid to love you, afraid to care that much again, but you—” And here she couldn’t help smiling. “You’ve had your way, as you always seem to do.”

  She stroked his forehead. Let her touch linger there while her other hand gripped his. “So come on, you empire builder, master this obstacle, too. You conquered me, after all.”

  She bent and barely stopped herself from kissing his brow in time. She wanted to climb in that bed with him and protect him from everything, shield him and comfort him—

  And later, by God, she would.

  One more stroke, one more squeeze. “I want more adventures, my love. Come back to your beautiful, brave daughter, William, and please—” she swallowed hard “—come back to me.”

  “Ladies, I’m sorry, but it’s time,” Kevin said.

  Anne moved aside and let Judith have the last chance.

  “I’ll be back, Daddy.” Then she looked at Anne. “We both will.”

  Anne smiled through her tears.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  ANNE COULDN’T SLEEP.

  She should be tired enough, certainly—and was. But as the hours passed, her aching body settled into a low scream. She had pain pills, of course, prescribed at the hospital.

  But she would not take them. Somehow, she had a sense that she was holding vigil. That she could help tie William to earth, keep him from passing, as Remy had, into another plane of existence, where she could not follow.

  But I’m still here, ma belle. Still with you.

  Anne shook her head at her foolishness in persisting to hear Remy’s voice. So you’ve become my guardian angel, have you? A smile twitched her lips.

  Who better? She could swear she heard him say.

  She laughed, but it was strained. She’d lost her mind, quite obviously. The stress of everything had accumulated until she’d clearly gone batty.

  Well, nothing for it but to get out of bed. She’d always been a big believer in the power of motion to overcome doubt. Sometimes you just had to take a step, even if you weren’t sure of your destination, and matters would become clearer.

  Her rising wasn’t pretty; thank goodness no one was here to see it. She would swear every muscle she possessed, and some she hadn’t known existed, was sore and bruised. She shuffled her way to the bathroom and started a shower, hot as she could stand it.

  A bath was tempting, but she’d better remain standing. Having to call the desk for help in getting out of the tub would bring her overprotective daughters running.

  She remained there for a long time, blessing the huge capacity of their boilers that she had plenty of hot water to restore her muscles to some semblance of flexibility.

  As she dressed, she recognized who—and what—she was dressing for.

  She was going to see William. Didn’t matter if she had to wait fifty-five minutes of each hour to be with him, or if he had awakened. If it was not yet dawn or if her daughters would disapprove or she’d have to negotiate with her staff not to forestall her—

  By his side was the only place she wanted to be.

  And so she would.

  Forty-five minutes later, with reassurances to her staff and messages left for her daughters and Judith, Anne was at the hospital where Kevin, bless him, had not yet gone off duty and had agreed to let her inside.

  “Mrs. Marchand, I’m a little surprised to see you back so soon.”

  “How is he?”

  Kevin smiled. “He’s been awake twice. Still groggy but coming out of it more each time he wakens.”

  She gripped his forearm. “That’s wonderful. Oh, that’s—” She had to duck her head for a minute to gather herself.

  “He’s doing well enough that I’ll talk to the doctor on duty and see if I can clear you to remain in the room as long as you wish.”

  “Would you?” That’s what she wanted, she realized. To be with him from now on. To grab every second.

  “There may be times when we’ll need to ask you to step out while we tend to him, but, sure—” He winked at her. �
��There’s nothing that helps a patient heal faster than loved ones.”

  Anne grasped for a tissue from her purse. Blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes as some of the ice inside her melted. “I do love him,” she said, looking into the young man’s gentle eyes. “He—he’s said he wants to marry me, but I—” She stopped. “Well, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” She snapped herself into some semblance of her usual composure. “Glove and gown again?”

  His expression was kind as he nodded. “For now. Until he’s moved upstairs.”

  “When will that be?”

  “I’m sure he won’t be here for my next shift. By this afternoon, I’d guess, if he continues to improve.” He gestured toward the metal chest containing sterile gowns and boxes of gloves. “Let me just make one check, then he’s all yours.” He headed off, then turned back. “Oh, and Mrs. Marchand?”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t get to be with my patients for long, usually, but I do care about them, and I see the effects of this place on their families. Don’t be embarrassed that you confided in me. ICU sort of strips everything down to the basics.” He smiled. “He’s a lucky man to be so well-loved. Not all my patients have that.”

  “You have a gift, Kevin,” she said. “Your patients are fortunate.”

  “Not all of them make it, Mrs. Marchand. But this one will, I promise.” He left her then.

  Moments later, she was standing on William’s far side, out of the main activity area in his cubicle. Kevin had brought her a chair, but it was too low for William’s bed, which was set at a height to allow the staff to tend to him without a lot of bending, Anne guessed. Maybe she would sit in a bit, but for now, she wanted to be as close to William as she could manage.

  “William,” she said, gripping his right hand. “It’s Anne. I’m here. I love you.”

  The breathing tube had been removed, thank goodness, replaced with a small tube feeding oxygen into his nostrils. She studied the planes and angles of his face. The lines that fanned from his eyes, carved his forehead.

  They were not young, either of them. They would not have unlimited years together.