River's End

by Nora Roberts

  She eased away, picked up the bowl again and began briskly beating eggs. “We have to think positively. Think in healing white light. I’ve read a lot of books on it.”

  He had to smile a little. “I bet you have.”

  “We’re going to bring him out of this.” She got out a skillet, and the look she sent Noah was fierce and strong. “Believe it.”

  He wanted to, but every time he went into the tiny room in the hospital and saw Mike still and pale, his head swathed in bandages, his eyes sunk in shadowed bruises, his faith faltered.

  As morning swam toward afternoon, he paced the corridor while rage built inside him. He couldn’t let Caryn get away with what she’d done. He couldn’t do anything but hope and pray and stand at his friend’s bedside and talk nonsense just to block out the monotonous beep of machines.

  She’d wanted a shot at him, he thought. By Christ, he’d give it to her. He turned toward the elevator, strode toward it, with hate blooming black in his heart.

  “Noah?”

  “What?” Fists already clenched, he glanced at the brunette. She wore a lab coat over shirt and trousers, with a stethoscope in her pocket. “Are you one of Mike Elmo’s doctors?”

  “No. I—”

  “I know you,” he interrupted. “Don’t I?”

  “We met at the club—you and Mike, my friend and I. I’m Dory.”

  “Right.” He rubbed his tired eyes. The pretty brunette with the Southern drawl who stood up for him the night Caryn had come in. “You’re a doctor?”

  “Yes. Emergency medicine. I’m on my break and wanted to see how Mike was doing.”

  “They just keep saying no change.”

  “I’ll check on that in a minute. You look like you could use some air. Let’s take a walk.”

  “I was just heading out.”

  “Let’s take a walk,” she repeated. She’d seen murder in a man’s eye before. It wasn’t a look you forgot. “The last time I checked in, Mike’s vitals were stable. His tests have been good.” She punched the elevator button. “He’s critical, but he’s also young and healthy.”

  “He’s been in a coma for a day and a half.”

  She nudged him into the elevator with her. “Sometimes a coma is just the body’s way of focusing in on healing. And he did come around once in the ambulance on the way here. It was brief, but I think he recognized me, and that’s a very positive sign.”

  “You? You were with him?”

  She stepped out on the main lobby, took his arm to lead him to the doors. “We had a date. I was meeting him at your place. I was running late. We had a double suicide attempt come in. Lost one, saved the other. It was nearly ten by the time I got there.”

  Outside she turned her face up to the sun, rolled her shoulders. “God, it feels good out here. In any case, the door was open. Mike was on the kitchen floor, facedown. Glass all over the place. Wine bottle. It’s probably what he was hit with. I went to work on him. I had my bag in the car. I called it in, did what I could on the scene. We had him in ER within thirty minutes.”

  “Is he going to die?”

  She didn’t answer right away, but sat down on the curb, waited for Noah to join her. “I don’t know. Medically, he’s got an even chance, maybe even a little better than even. There were no bone fragments in his brain, and that was a big one. Still, medicine has limits, and it’s up to him now. I’m half crazy about him.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Yeah. I know he started off that night with this thing for Steph. And actually, I had the same kind of focus on you.” She tilted her face toward him and smiled. “You were a little too distracted to notice, so I went back and sulked a little.”

  “Yeah?”

  She had to smile. “Just a little. Mike and Steph went through the moves and motions. They sort of ran out of steam, and I felt sorry for Mike because he was worried about you and didn’t know what to do about it. We started talking and had this big click happen. We started going out. Then we started staying in.”

  “That was you the other night on the phone.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Mike Elmo and the sexy doctor.” Absurdly pleased, Noah shook his head. “That’s just terrific.” He grabbed her face in his hand and kissed her noisily. “That’s just great.”

  She laughed and gave him a friendly pat on the knee. “He thinks you walk on water. I didn’t say that to make you sad,” she hurried on when the light went out of Noah’s eyes. “I said it because I think he’s a pretty great guy, and he thinks you’re a pretty great guy. So, I figure he’s right. And I figure that when I ran into you upstairs you’d had about enough and were going to go find that lunatic Caryn and . . . I was going to say do something you’d regret, but I don’t think you’d regret it. Something that wouldn’t help, that wouldn’t solve anything, and that in the end would put you in the kind of jam Mike wouldn’t like.”

  “She wanted to hurt me. She didn’t give a damn about Mike.”

  “Noah, she did hurt you. She hurt you where it matters the most. Let’s go back up. I only have a few more minutes left, and I want to see him.”

  He nodded, got to his feet, then held down a hand for hers. “I guess it’s lucky I ran into you.”

  “Why don’t you buy me a beer after shift?” She grinned as they went back inside. “You can tell me all kinds of embarrassing Mike stories.”

  “What kind of friend would that make me?”

  “He told me you got piss-faced the spring of your senior year in high school, and he dared you to run around the track bare-assed naked. And when you did, he took videos and showed them at your graduation party. He still has a copy, by the way.” Her smile brightened as they moved onto the elevator. “You had very nice form at eighteen.”

  “Oh yeah. Well, that’s nothing. I’ve got much better stories on Mike. What time do you get off shift?”

  “Seven, please God.”

  “It’s a date.” His mood almost light, he stepped off the elevator. Then his heart crashed to his feet as he saw Maggie sobbing in his mother’s arms.

  “No.” The roar inside his head was so loud he couldn’t hear his own voice as he repeated the denial over and over, as he raced down the corridor, yanking free of Dory’s restraining hand.

  “Noah, wait!” Celia shifted quickly to block his path before he could shove through the doors into ICU. “Wait. Maggie, tell him. Tell Noah.”

  “He opened his eyes.” She rocked back and forth on her heels, back and forth, then held out both hands to Noah. “He opened his eyes. He said ‘Mom.’ He looked at me, and he said ‘Mom.’ ”

  “Stay here,” Dory ordered. “Stay out here. Let me check.”

  “The nurse came in, she called for the doctor.” Celia wiped at her own tears while Noah held Maggie. “Frank and Jim are down in the cafeteria. Frank browbeat Jim into getting something to eat, then I was going to browbeat Maggie. He woke up, Noah.” She laid her head on the side of his shoulder. “He woke up.”

  Dory came back through the doors. Noah took one look at the brilliant smile on her face and buried his face in Maggie’s hair.

  twenty-one

  “So, when were you going to tell me about Doctor Delicious?”

  Mike grinned, with most of his old twinkle. “Is she a babe or what?”

  “A prime babe, a brainy babe. So what’s she doing hanging around with you?”

  “She digs me. What can I say?” He still tended to tire easily, and the headaches came with tedious regularity. But they’d jumped him up to good condition after his stint in ICU and into a regular room.

  His room was full of flowers, cards, balloons. He’d told Noah the nurses called it Party Central, a fact that pleased him enormously.

  The day before Noah had brought in a brand-new laptop, loaded with every computer game it would hold. He’d called it occupational therapy, but knew it was part guilt, part unspeakable gratitude.

  “I think I’m in, you know. With her,” Mike said, scrupulousl
y staring at his fingers.

  Noah gaped. “You got a major bash on the head ten days ago. Ruined a damn fine bottle of wine, by the way. I think your brains are still scrambled.”

  “I don’t think this has a lot to do with brains.”

  At a loss, Noah blew out a breath. “ ‘You know’ is a very big thing. You were only seeing her for a little while before you had your head broken. You’ve been stuck in a hospital bed ever since.”

  “I have a really fond feeling for this hospital bed.” Mike gave the white sheets an affectionate pat. “After last night.”

  “Last night? Here? You had sex with her here?” It was fascinating.

  “Shh. Tell the floor nurse, why don’t you?” But Mike was still grinning. “She came in to see me after her shift, one thing led to another. The another was really amazing, by the way.”

  “Why the hell am I feeling sorry for you?” Noah wondered. “You’re getting all the action.”

  He grabbed the can of Coke he’d brought in with him, chugged deeply.

  “I asked her to marry me.”

  And choked. “Huh? What? Jesus, Mike.”

  “She said yes.” Mike’s grin turned into his puppy dog smile and turned his eyes soft. “Can you beat that?”

  “I think I’m having a stroke.” Noah pressed his fingers to his twitching eye. “Call the nurse. No, better, call a doctor. Maybe I can get some action.”

  “We’re going to get married next spring, because she wants the works. You know, the church, the flowers, the white dress.”

  “Wow.” It was the best he could do. Noah figured he’d better sit down, then realized he already was. “Wow.”

  “They’re letting me out of here tomorrow. I want to buy her a ring right away. I need you to go with me. I don’t know squat about buying an engagement ring.”

  “What do I know about it?” Noah dragged his free hand through his hair and took a good, hard look. Mike’s eyes were clear behind the thick lenses of his glasses. His smile was easy, almost lazily content. “You really mean it, don’t you?”

  “I want to be with her. And when I am I keep thinking, this is right. This feels exactly right.” Vaguely embarrassed, he moved his shoulders. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “I guess you just did. Nice going, Mike.”

  “So, you’ll give me a hand with the ring, right?”

  “Sure. We’ll get her a doozy.” With a sudden laugh, he surged to his feet. “Goddamn. Married. And to a doctor. Damn good thing. She’ll be able to stitch you up every time you walk into something or trip over your feet. Does she know you’re a complete klutz?”

  “Yeah, she loves that about me.”

  “Go figure.” To show his affection, he punched Mike on the shoulder. “I guess you won’t be coming over and raiding my fridge every other night after . . .” He trailed off, remembering.

  “It wasn’t your fault. Look, we know each other well enough for me to see what’s in your head.” To keep Noah from backing off, Mike grabbed his hand. “You didn’t know she was going to go postal.”

  “I knew enough.”

  “I knew as much as you did, and I didn’t give a thought to going over there. For Christ’s sake, Noah, Dory was coming.” Shaken by just the thought of it, Mike rubbed his hands over his face, his fingers sliding under his glasses to press against his eyes. “Something could’ve happened to her, too. I’m the one who told her to meet me over there.”

  “That’s not—”

  “It’s the same thing,” Mike interrupted. “I was there at the club that night. I heard what she said, saw how she was.” He turned to brood out his window at his view of palm trees. “I wish I could remember, but I keep coming up against the blank. Nothing, not a fucking thing after the marathon after work. I remember kicking Pete Bester’s ass at Mortal Kombat. Next thing I’m clear on is waking up and seeing Mom. All I know about the between is what people tell me. Maybe I saw her. If I could say I saw her, they’d lock her up.”

  “They’d have to find her first. She skipped,” Noah added when Mike looked back at him. “None of her friends know where she is, or they’re not saying. She packed clothes, got a cash advance on her credit cards and split.”

  “Can’t they go after her for that, like The Fugitive.”

  Even a half laugh felt good. “Richard Kimble was innocent.”

  “Yeah, but still.”

  “She wasn’t charged. I guess if they come up with some evidence they might take a look for her. Otherwise . . .” He lifted his shoulders, let them fall. “Anyway, I don’t think she’ll be hassling either one of us, not for a while at least.”

  “That’s something. So, now that you know I’m going to live, and that crazy bitch is off somewhere, I guess you better get back to work.”

  “Who says I haven’t been working?”

  “Your mother.”

  “Man, what is it with you and my mother?”

  “I’d always planned to marry her, but I thought your father might shoot me. Dory knows she’s my second choice, but she’s so madly in love with me she doesn’t care. But I digress,” he said with a grin. “She said you’ve been letting the book coast, really only playing at it for the last week or so. I’d say it’s time to get your lazy ass in gear.”

  “I’ll get to it.” Muttering, Noah wandered to the window.

  “You don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m cool. Aside from the blank spot, I’m nearly back to normal.”

  “You were never normal. I’ve been thinking about talking to Jamie Melbourne again, getting her husband to talk to me. Hassling that asshole admin of Smith’s.”

  “So do it.”

  “I’m waiting for my car.” He knew it was stalling. “The lodge arranged to have someone drive it down for me. Should be here tomorrow or the next day.”

  “Then you can go home, make your calls and set up your interviews.”

  Noah glanced back over his shoulder. “You kicking me out?”

  “What are friends for?”

  What was she doing? What in God’s name was she doing?

  Olivia sat in the car, her fingers clamped on the steering wheel, and struggled to breathe. If she took slow, even breaths her heart would stop pounding. She could control it, control the frenzied jerk and throb of her pulse and beat back the panic attack.

  She could do it, she could fight it off. She wouldn’t let it take over.

  But her hands wanted to tremble on the wheel, and the sheen of sweat had already pearled on her face as waves of heat then ice, heat then ice, surfed over her skin, through her belly, into her throat. She knew what she’d see if she looked in the rearview mirror. The wild, wide eyes, the glossy, translucent pallor.

  The nausea rolled up, one long sick crest, from her feet to her stomach to her throat.

  She gritted her teeth and fought it back, shoved it down even as the shudders shimmered over her in icy little bumps.

  The scream wanted to rip out, it tore at her chest, clawing with sharpened demon claws. But all she released was a moan, a long keening sound drenched in despair, pressing her head back against the seat as she held on, held on.

  Five seconds, then ten. Twenty. Until she willed herself, warred with her own mind, to snap clear.

  Her breath came fast, as if she’d been running, but the sharpest edge of panic began to fade. Slowly, she ordered herself to relax, one muscle at a time. She opened her eyes, stared at her fingers, made them flex and release, flex and release.

  Control. She had control. She was not a victim, would never, never be a victim. Not of circumstance or her own ill-buried fears.

  With one last shuddering breath, she leaned back again. Better, that was better, she thought. It was just that it had come on so fast, had taken her completely by surprise. It had been more than two years since she’d had a full-blown panic attack.

  Two years ago, she remembered, when she’d made plans to come to Los Angeles and visit her aunt and uncle. Then, she’d gotten
as far as the airport when it had washed over her. The cold sweats, the shakes, the terrible need to get out, just get out and away from all the people.

  She’d beaten it back, but she hadn’t been able to face the