by HELEN HARDT
* * *
Evening arrived, and Zach was still burning with fever. Dusty sat in the waiting room with Laurie, Chad, and Sam. When the doctor approached, she stood up.
The doctor cleared his throat. “I’m afraid he hasn’t responded to the antibiotic treatment as hoped.”
Neither Dusty nor Laurie spoke.
“What’s the next step then?” Chad asked.
“Put him on stronger antibiotics. And we’ll culture the wound, see what grows. It’s obviously something that’s resistant to the antibiotics we’ve tried so far. The main thing is to watch for necrotizing fasciitis.”
“What’s that?” Laurie asked.
“It’s commonly referred to as the flesh-eating bacteria. It’s associated with streptococcus A, which is the bacteria that causes strep throat, but it can actually be caused by several different bacteria.”
Dusty gulped. This didn’t sound the least bit good. “I need to go to him,” she said.
“He won’t know you’re there,” the doctor said.
“I don’t care.”
“Dusty.” Sam pulled her aside. “I need to talk to you for a minute.”
“What? What is it, Sam?”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you this, because you already know it. But you can’t stay with him, Dust. Not if he has some kind of highly contagious bacteria growing in that wound. Your white cell count is up. We don’t know what’s going on with it yet, but your immune system could be compromised. You could be highly susceptible to infection.”
Dusty was well aware of that fact. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to stay with him. I’m the reason he’s here in the first place. He needs me.”
“He doesn’t need you to get sick because of him.”
“But he’s sick because of me! This is all my fault, Sam. I couldn’t live with myself if I left him.”
“Come on, Sis, you know he wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger.”
“Sam, I’ve already decided that I’m leaving once he’s well. And he will get well, damn it. But until he’s well, I need to stay.”
“You’ve decided to leave him?”
“Yeah.” She sniffed as a tear fell. “I won’t saddle him with a sick woman who can’t ever give him a family. He deserves more than that. So much more. But for now, he needs me. I… I don’t think he’ll get well unless I’m here.”
“Jesus Christ. You’re in love with him.”
“No, that’s not it.” But it was a lie. She knew it, and judging from the look on Sam’s face, he did, too. “Yes. Yes, I am.” Saying it out loud made it so final. So true. “And it’s because I love him that I’m going to leave him, but not until he’s well.”
“Even if it costs you your own health? You love him that much?”
“Yes.” Without a doubt.
“I sure as hell hope he’s worth it, Dust.”
“He is. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to the man I love.”
Without speaking further to the doctor or to Laurie and Chad, Dusty headed back to Zach’s room. He looked so peaceful in his drug-induced sleep, but when she looked more closely, the underlying tension in the smooth lines of his face showed itself. She caressed his beard-roughened jaw, leaned forward, and kissed his lips.
“I’m here, sweetheart,” she said. “I’m not leaving until you’re well. I love you. I love you so much.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry about all of this. I wish I’d never come to Denver. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be here in this stupid hospital, and I wouldn’t have to break your heart and mine.” She lay down next to him, cuddled into his body, and sobbed into his shoulder.
After ten minutes, she choked back her last sob, determined to focus on Zach and not herself. “I’ll see you well if it’s the last thing I do. I will, Zach. I will.”
Chapter Thirteen
Twenty-four hours later and still no change. The culture hadn’t shown anything other than strep and staff, but Zach wasn’t responding to antibiotics. Worse still, the infection appeared to be spreading.
“I’m going to take him into surgery,” the doctor told them. “I need to remove some of the diseased tissue.”
“Will there be scarring?” Laurie asked.
“Some. The extent will depend on how much I have to take.”
“But he’s so weak from fever,” Laurie said. “Can he handle surgery?”
“He’s young, healthy, and in great physical shape. Trust me, I’ve operated on much worse and they’ve come through fine. I think it’s the best alternative at this point.”
Dusty sat, dazed, running her fingers through her greasy hair. It had been two days since she had bathed. She hadn’t eaten properly, and she was walking around like a zombie. She said nothing to the doctor, just watched him walk away in a blur. She blinked. Her eyes wouldn’t focus.
“Come on, twerp,” Chad said. “I’ll take you to your hotel. You need a bath and a good night’s sleep.”
“I’m not leaving him.”
“How about if I take you to Zach’s suite? Would you like that?”
“Only if he’s there.”
Chad sighed. “All right.”
Dusty closed her eyes and prayed silently to a God she wasn’t sure existed to please spare Zach’s life. She was tired, so tired. Her body ached with fatigue, and a fog swam in her mind. Sam had taken third place bronc busting, but when he came to the hospital to tell her the news, she hadn’t been able to so much as smile for him.
“Sugar.” Laurie touched her arm.
Dusty opened her eyes.
“Come with me,” Zach’s mother said. “It’s not good for us to sit around doing nothing like this.”
She led Dusty to the women’s room and produced two small bottles of shampoo and conditioner from her purse. “Lean down. I’m going to wash your hair.”
The thought that it would make more sense to use the shower in Zach’s room floated on a synapse across Dusty’s mind, but she nodded at the older woman. She didn’t have the strength to argue. Laurie’s gentle touch on Dusty’s scalp soothed her, and she nearly nodded off. When Laurie finished she wrapped Dusty’s head in a towel and handed her a jar of Noxzema. “Wash your face now.”
Dusty did as she was told. It did feel better to be clean.
“You have beautiful hair,” Laurie said, as she combed through it. “You always did, even when you were a babe. Such a lovely strawberry-blond color. So thick and wavy.”
Dusty said nothing.
“Your mama had beautiful hair, too. Hers was lighter than yours, but still lovely.”
Dusty choked back a sob.
“I’m sorry, sugar. Does it bother you to talk about your mama?”
Dusty shook her head. Selfish and vain as she was, she wasn’t crying for her mother, or even for Zach, at that moment. She was crying over her hair. Zach loved her hair, and she was going to lose it.
Again.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked Laurie. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t been on Diablo, Zach wouldn’t have gotten hurt. If I were you, I’d hate me.”
Laurie touched Dusty’s shoulders, the warmth penetrating through her wrinkled blouse. “I suppose it would be easier if I had someone to blame,” she said. “The truth is, Zach didn’t blame you. Oh, he was angry, no lie, but when it came down to it, his only concern was for you, even after he got hurt. My son cares for you. Frankly, I was beginning to wonder if he’d ever care for a woman the way his father cared for me. If you were able to reach him on that level, all I can do is love you. No matter what.”
Dusty fell into Laurie’s arms and sobbed.
“There now. He’s going to be all right.”
Laurie’s motherly touch offered no solace. Dusty cried for own mother, for herself, and for Zach. Mostly for the love she would never have.
* * *
“I wish I could do something,” Angelina said to Chelsea. They sat in the waiting room, awaiting news of the outcome of Zach�
��s surgery. Dusty had disappeared with Laurie, Chad and Dallas had gone for coffee, and Angelina was thankful for the chance to speak freely.
“You’re here. That’s all that matters,” Chelsea said.
“I should be the one staying in his room with him, not her.”
“Honey, have you seen her? She looks like she’s been run over by a truck. Do you really want that?”
“No, but…” Angelina sighed. “I just wish I could help him.”
“You really care about him, don’t you?” Chelsea’s raised eyebrows indicated the other woman’s surprise.
“Of course I do,” Angelina said. “Why would I want to be with him otherwise?”
“Yes, of course,” Chelsea said.
Angelina regarded her friend. Chelsea looked perfect as usual, dressed in tailored clothing accented with a Prada handbag and shoes. Angelina enjoyed clothes as much as the next person, but having grown up on a ranch, they weren’t as important to her as they seemed to be to Chelsea. For Chelsea, appearance was paramount.
For the first time, Angelina wondered if Chelsea loved her husband. Why wouldn’t she? Dallas was gorgeous. And loaded. Slightly taller than Zach, but not quite as tall as Chad. About six-three, and his black hair streaked with silver was rugged perfection. Yet she had never seen much affection pass between him and his wife.
Dallas was removed. That was the only way Angie could think to describe him. He didn’t seem close to anyone. Not his brothers, his mother, or his wife. Part of him was shut off from everything else. What was it that kept him closeted from those he should be closest to?
“Chelsea, can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.”
“Are you and Dallas in love?”
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Of course we are. We’re married, aren’t we?”
Angelina nodded, but she wasn’t convinced. Marriage didn’t equal love. No. Love wasn’t a requirement for marriage.
But it should be. It definitely should be.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said.
“About what?”
“Maybe Zach and I aren’t meant to be.”
“Are you kidding me? What have we been working toward all this time?”
“I know.” She sighed. “And I appreciate all your help. Really, I do. But…” She took a deep breath. “Zach’s not in love with me.”
“So? Get the license and worry about love later.”
Angelina couldn’t believe what she was about to say. “I’m not sure I want that.” In her heart, she knew she spoke the truth.
Chelsea tapped her Prada-clad toes on the tile floor. “Suit yourself, then. I would have loved to have you for a sister-in-law.”
“Yeah, it would have been fun.” Though Angelina wasn’t sure she meant the words anymore. Was Chelsea truly that shallow? And had she, Angelina, been on the same road? “I’m still going to stick around and help Zach through this. I want him to know I’m here for him. That I care.”
Chelsea’s gaze wandered. She had clearly grown bored with the conversation. “Of course,” she said.
Angelina looked the other way, staring at the abstract art on the wall. All red with black splotches. Kind of the way she felt inside.
* * *
On the second night after his surgery, Dusty awoke in the chair next to Zach, her hand soaked with sweat from his. She scrambled to call the nurse, who came quickly.
“Please, you need to check his temperature. I think… I think his fever broke.”
“Looks that way.” The nurse smiled as she held the thermometer to Zach’s ear. “Ninety-nine point two. A little high, but I’d say it’s perfect.”
“Thank God, thank God.” Dusty buried her face in her hands.
“He’s going to be hungry when he wakes up,” the nurse said as she pulled down the sheet and removed Zach’s catheter. “It’s the middle of the night, but I think we should find some food for him. What does he like?”
“He likes meat and potatoes. Manly food.” Manly food for her manly man.
“I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, I need to change his linens. These are soaked.”
“I’ll help you.”
“Oh, there’s no need.”
“Please, I want to.”
The nurse’s gaze fell to Dusty’s wringing hands. “Honey, the best thing for you right now would be to go home and get some sleep. You’ve been here nonstop.”
“I’m not leaving. At least not until he wakes up and I know he’s okay.”
The nurse shook her head, smiling. “He’s lucky to have you. You sure do love him, don’t you?”
Dusty nodded. Warmth flowed through her. “More than anything.” She pulled the corner of the sheet out from the mattress. “How exactly do we…?”
“He’s a big one, isn’t he?” The nurse tidied Zach’s end table. “Maybe it’d be better if we wait until he wakes up. He’ll probably feel like getting up. That’ll make it easier.”
At that moment, Zach’s eyelids fluttered. Dusty sat down on the edge of the bed and took his hand. “Hey.”
“Hey.” His voice was hoarse and raspy. “Thirsty.”
The nurse poured a cup of water and held it to Zach’s lips. He took a few shallow sips. The nurse excused herself to see to his food.
“You sure scared us, Zach,” Dusty said, stroking his fingers with her own.
“Sweet darlin’, I’d never leave you.”
His words sliced into her heart like a knife. She was caught between the giddiness of knowing he was well and the heart-wrenching anguish of knowing she had to leave him soon. She’d break his heart. But she couldn’t think about that now. She had to see him out of the hospital and safely back to his hotel suite. Then she’d go home to Montana.
“What do you feel like? Are you hungry?”
“Yeah. A little.”
“I’ve got the nurse looking for meat and potatoes for you.” She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it.
“Got any more of those?” he asked.
“Meat and potatoes?”
“Nah. Kisses.”
She smiled. “I think I might have a few.”
“Come here then.” He urged her forward. “I hope you don’t mind me lookin’ like death warmed over.”
She shook her head, a tear forming in her eye. “You’ve never looked more wonderful to me.”
She pressed her lips to his. They were dry and chapped, but they felt like heaven against her own. He wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her closer. She sighed as his tongue eased her lips open. She responded, even knowing he shouldn’t be exerting himself. After a few breathless moments, she pulled away.
“Don’t strain yourself.”
“I’m not.”
She bit her lip, worried. “I don’t want you to get too turned on.”
“Too late.” He pointed to the sheet at his waist, tented by his obvious erection.
“Zach—”
“Hey, I’m only human. Kissing my woman has that effect on me.”
“Oh, Zach.” Dusty’s eyes misted. “I was so worried about you.”
“Please don’t cry. I can bear anything but your tears.”
“But it was all my fault. If anything had happened…”
“I’m too ornery to die, darlin’.”
“That’s not funny, Zach.”
“I’m sorry. Come here.”
He opened his arms, and she lay down next to him, soggy sheets and all.
“You know I love you, don’t you?”
She nodded, nuzzling into his neck, still clammy from sweat. She wanted to say it back, but it would just make things harder for both of them.
“Did you stay with me the whole time?”
She nodded again.
“I thought so. Somehow, I knew you were here.”
“Are you in any pain, Zach? Can I get you anything?”
“All I want is you.”
“Not even some meat and potatoes?”
&nb
sp; “Well, maybe. I am feeling a little gaunt.”
“You look absolutely beautiful.”
“So do you.”
She glanced down at her wrinkled clothes and shook her head. “I’m a mess. Thank God Sam brought me a toothbrush and enough underwear so I could change every day.”
“Maybe they’ll let me out of here come morning.”
“Don’t bet on it. You were very sick, Zach. You had a really high fever for several days. And surgery. I was so scared.”
“I’m sorry.”
She laid her fingers over his mouth. “Stop saying that. None of this is your fault. It’s all mine.”
“You stop saying that, too. And kiss me again.”
She lifted her lips to his. After another long kiss, she said, “Do you feel like you can get out of bed? I’d like to change your linens. They’re soaked from when your fever broke.”
“I might be able to. I have to piss like a racehorse.”
Dusty rose from the bed to help him. “That’s probably just irritation from your catheter. The nurse just took it out.”
Zach winced.
Dusty smiled and looked around. “I don’t see any crutches in here. I’ll get some from the nurse, but for now, don’t put too much weight on your leg, sweetheart. You’ll have to lean on me.”
“I like it when you call me that. Sweetheart.” His face was pale and his eyes sunken, but his smile still made her heart leap. Breathtaking.
“Me too. Come on, now. I’ll help you to the bathroom.”
While Zach took care of business, Dusty hurriedly stripped the bed and replaced the soiled linens with the clean ones the nurse had left. When she finished, she knocked on the bathroom door.
“You can come in, darlin’.”
He was sitting on the toilet seat putting toothpaste on a toothbrush.
“Do you want me to help you wash your hair or anything?” she asked.
“I know I must look like hell, but I don’t feel up to it right now. I just want to brush my teeth.”
“Okay.”
When he had finished, she helped him back into bed and lay down next to him. “Go to sleep now, sweetheart.” She kissed his lips lightly. “I’ll wake you when the food gets here.”
