by Kathryn Shay
Brady grabbed for Clare’s hand.
“We’re pretty sure Lillian has had a heart attack. We’re going to prep her for an angiogram now.”
“Don’t you need to do tests? Check the blood enzymes?” Max’s father had had a heart attack and Brady knew the procedure.
“We ran one, but we’re not waiting for the results of a second. She’s got the classic symptoms. And I don’t want to waste any time.”
“Oh my God.”
Dr. Nichols’s gaze was sympathetic. “We’ve got the best cardio team in the city. And we all care about your mother. Everyone’s dropping everything to do this.”
“Thank you,” Clare said when Brady didn’t speak.
“You’ll need to sign consent forms, since you’re listed as power of attorney.”
“I—I will. Dr. Nichols, tell me the truth. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“It’s serious, hence the way we’re proceeding. I’ll be back out once we do the angiogram.”
Brady turned to Clare after he left. “I can’t believe it.”
“Heart surgery is so advanced today. A guy at the station had quintuple bypass and is playing golf, doing everything he did before.”
“It’s my mother.”
“I know.” She fished in her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “I think you need to call your brothers and sisters.”
“I do? I do?”
“Yes, Brady, you do.”
The tears slipped down his cheeks. The next thing he knew, he was in Clare’s arms, crying like a baby.
* * *
The news of the need for double bypass surgery for Lillian Langston came after Juliana, Samantha and Sloan had all arrived at the hospital. Once again, Brady took the verdict the worst. And once again, he turned to Clare, and not his sisters or brothers, to console him.
They were in a smaller, more private waiting area, and
Brady sat staring at the floor, gripping Clare’s hand so hard it hurt. The surgery had begun at 8:00 p.m. and it was nine now.
“Hey,” Sloan said, coming over to his brother. The boys looked alike with the same chestnut brown hair, blue eyes and even the same square-cut jaw. “You okay, buddy?”
Brady looked up at his younger brother and the expression in his eyes was so bleak it broke Clare’s heart. “No. Sorry I’m such a wimp.”
“You were always the worst,” Juliana, Samantha’s twin, commented. She was sitting on the other side of Brady and slid her arm around his shoulders. She and Sam were identical, though they’d cut their dark hair differently, and Juliana was a bit more slender. “Remember when Mom had her appendix out? Dad had to let you sleep with him.”
“I never lived that down,” Brady said, trying to joke. He drew in a breath. “I don’t—” He turned to Clare and rested his forehead on her shoulder.
Clare clasped his neck. From over his shoulders, she saw the siblings exchange glances. So what? Maybe she hadn’t been here for Brady before, but she was here now.
Her phone vibrated. She’d been trying to reach Max, who was off on another trip, and Delia, who’d gone to join Donny at his grandparents’ house. She drew her phone out and, against hospital rules, answered it.
“Clare, I’ve been calling you all day.” Jonathan’s tone was impatient irritated. But Clare recognized the fear in his voice, too.
“Is it Max or Delia?” Brady asked.
Into the phone, she said, “Just a sec.” To Brady, “No. I’m going to step out in the hall and take this.”
Panic filled Brady’s face. “Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t. I promise. I’ll be in the hall, away from the nurses.”
Sam took her place and Clare went into a private alcove where she wouldn’t be seen by the phone police. “Jonathan, I’m back.”
“Honey, where are you? You’ve been out of reach all day. Didn’t you get my messages?”
“I did. I’m sorry. I’ve been at the hospital since this morning.”
“Oh, Lord. Did something happen to you? Why didn’t you call me?”
“No, it’s not me. It’s Brady’s mother.” She explained the situation.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” A very long pause. “So you’ve been there all day? And rode in the ambulance?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t I come and get you? You must be exhausted. You’re not fully recovered, you know.”
A spurt of anger shot through her. How could he possibly suggest she abandon Brady at a time like this? “I can’t leave, Jonathan.”
There was another long pause on his end, then he asked, “Are the Langston sisters and brothers there?”
“All but Peter. He’s flying in from the west coast.”
“Well, there you go.”
“Jonathan, I have no intention of leaving the hospital. Lillian’s still in surgery. And Max and Delia aren’t in town.”
Another pause. “I’m sorry if I sound insensitive. But I’ve got great news. The Cooking Network has agreed to see us tomorrow at four. They’ve had a cancellation, and we got the time slot. I want you rested for that.”
She struggled to control her temper. She hadn’t agreed to pursue the syndication of the show, had told Jonathan how wary she was of starting something new with huge gaps in her memory. He said she just didn’t remember how important this was to her, but hell, even recording her show was foreign. She wasn’t ready to pursue her career even further. And she resented him for pushing her too hard.
“You’ll have to reschedule. I can’t go.”
“Lillian will be out of surgery in a few hours. They’ll know her prognosis then. Stay if you must, but we have to catch a plane tomorrow at noon.”
“I have to go. I’ll call you when I know more.”
Before he could respond, she clicked off.
When she turned, she saw Brady behind her in the hallway. His face was completely devoid of color, and his whole body was as tense as a tree limb about to snap. A swell of sympathy, and something else very big and very powerful, filled her.
“Who was it?” he asked.
“Jonathan. He said to give you his best.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Do you want to go get coffee or something?”
“Should I?”
“I think that would be good.” She checked her watch. “It’ll be hours yet before the surgery is over.”
“A nurse came in while you were out here and said it’s going well. Mom’s stable and they haven’t found anything they weren’t expecting.”
“That’s wonderful. Come on, let’s go get coffee and maybe some food in your stomach. You need that, Brady.”
He grasped her hand. “I need you. Here. Promise me you’ll stay.”
Once again, so much emotion for this man filled her. “I’ll stay. I promise.”
Hand in hand, they found the elevator and took it to the cafeteria. She might not have her memory back, but one thing Clare knew for sure: she meant what she said. She was going to stay with Brady as long as he needed her.
* * *
At ten the next morning, carrying a suit Clarissa had left at his house, Jonathan entered Memorial Hospital and took the elevator to the cardiac waiting area. He’d spoken briefly to her earlier. She’d stayed all night with the Langstons, but thankfully, Lillian had come through the surgery and was in recovery, and her children had visited her in CCU. Now that all was well, Clarissa could go with him.
What he found in the waiting area made his throat tight. All of them were there—the Langston girls were asleep on couches, and the men were awake. Two were checking their phones, but Brady was staring down at Clarissa, who was sound asleep, with her head cradled on a pillow in his lap. His hand was absently stroking her hair. The small gesture made Jonathan angry and resurrected a jealousy buried deep inside him, but he tried not to let either emotion show because of the gravity of the situation.
“Hello,” one of the Langston brothers said when he spotted Jonathan. “Are you looki
ng for someone?”
“Clarissa.”
Brady glanced up. His face was lined with fatigue and remnants of worry, and Jonathan felt bad for the guy.
Though his own parents were still alive, his grandfather had gone through heart bypass and he remembered how difficult the aftermath had been.
“Hi, Brady. I’m sorry to hear about your mother and glad she’s come through the surgery.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to get Clarissa. She’s got to change—” he held up the garment bag “—for our trip to New York.”
“Clare’s not going anywhere.”
“She said she’d stay until your mother was out of danger.” He tried to keep his tone gentle. On some level, he knew he was being selfish, but the prize was too big to let go of. “No new developments, right?”
“My mother’s doing okay. What’s in New York?”
“The Cooking Network. They want to see Clarissa about picking up our show. You know how much she wants this.”
“I know how much you want it.”
Again, he curtailed his temper out of respect. Just then, Clarissa stirred. Jonathan watched as she came awake. She yawned, then looked up at Brady. A smile claimed her lips. Then a frown. “What? Brady, you look terrible. Did something happen while I was asleep?”
“He happened.”
Clarissa looked over at Jonathan, then sat up, raked back her hair and stood. She was a mess—her clothes, her hair, her makeup. “Jonathan, what are you doing here?”
“I came to get you. We can still make our plane to New York.” Again he held up the bag. “You said you’d come if everything went well.”
“You did?” Brady asked.
Clarissa looked at Jonathan. Then at Brady. She was deathly still, and Jonathan knew the choice she was about to make would tell him how everything else was going to go down.
* * *
Brady stared openmouthed as Clare exited the room with Harris. He couldn’t believe she’d leave him now. Dropping down on the chair, he buried his face in his hands, feeling even more bereft than before.
“Brady, I’m sorry.” Samantha’s voice on the left. Her tone was angry. “You don’t need this.”
He couldn’t respond.
From his right, Juliana rubbed his back and leaned her head on his shoulder. “We’re here, Brade. It’s okay.”
He guessed it had to be, since the writing, so to speak, was on the wall. And this time he wasn’t going to justify Clare’s choice of Jonathan over him. This time he wasn’t going to fool himself into thinking things were different.
“Oh,” Sam said.
Brady didn’t move at her exclamation. He wanted to shut out the world.
Jules nudged him. “Brady.”
Sighing, he raised his head. And frowned. “What? What’s going on?”
Clare stood in the doorway. She gave him a half smile. “I’m not flying to New York with Jonathan. I was fuzzy from sleep or I wouldn’t have gone out the door with him in the first place.” She came closer, dropped to her knees and grasped his hands. “I may have gone back on my word in the past, but I’m not doing it again. I’m here for you, Brady, for as long as you need me.”
Her tone was so sincere that Brady wanted badly to believe her. “You promise?”
She smiled up at him. “Yes. And it’s a promise I’ll keep.”
CHAPTER TEN
His hands were magic on her body. Clare sighed as he kneaded her breasts, kissed the swell of each one, closed his mouth over a nipple.
“Ahh,” she moaned, clasping his head to keep him where he was. His soft hair curled at his neck, and she weaved her fingers through it.
“I knew you’d like this.”
Again, she moaned.
He slid his palm down her rib cage, over her stomach, and cupped her. His mouth followed the trail.
“Oh, oh, Brady.”
Clare awoke with a start. Disoriented, she glanced around the room and checked the other side of the bed. The covers were jumbled and a pillow lay on the floor, but she was alone. Her heart racing, her body taut she realized she was seriously aroused.
“Hell!” she murmured, lying back on the pillow and pushing her hair out of her face. The fan whirred above her and she watched the white blades go round. “What was that all about?”
You know, Clare. Be honest with yourself.
All right she did know the answer to her question. Over the past week, she’d spent all her time with Brady, both at the hospital and one night back at the condo when he’d slept in her bed with her, though they were both fully clothed. Even in the three days since Lillian had come home, and Brady had been staying at his mom’s, Clare had gone over during the day. She kept him company, cooked for them both and froze food for later. She entertained Lillian by asking for stories about the recipes, so Brady could take a break or run errands.
All the while, something had grown between her and Brady. Whether they were old feelings resurrected or new ones blossoming, Clare felt closer to him than to anyone else. She treasured the fact that she was able to help him and she relished her time with him. It was almost like…falling in love.
The thought stunned her. They were friends. Best friends.
Then why, she asked herself as she flung back the covers, did she crave his touch, want to feel his skin beneath her hands, yearn for him to give her more than a peck on the cheek? There must be more to what she was feeling, and today she’d talk to her therapist about it. She had an appointment in two hours.
The phone rang as she finished her shower. Wrapped in a thirsty red towel, her hair damp, she clicked on.
“Hey, Clare.”
“Hi, Cathy. There’s nothing wrong, is there?”
“No. I’m just leaving Arizona. I should be in Rockford at four.”
“I’ll be waiting at the airport.”
“I can take a cab.”
“No way. See you then.”
More positive feelings filled her. Cathy was coming to spend a week with her. They were going to be together—like old times, her sister had said—and Clare was delighted.
She’d just hung up the phone when it rang again. “Hello.”
“Hello, Clarissa.” Jonathan’s voice, cold and distant on the other end. He’d been this way all week because she’d insisted he cancel the New York trip, and because she hadn’t seen him in four days. She recalled now that he often distanced himself when he was hurt. The knowledge softened her attitude toward him. “Are you well?” he asked.
“Yes.” A pause. “Are you?”
“No, of course not. I’d like to see you.”
She hedged. “Cathy’s coming today.”
“It would be nice to finally meet her.”
“You’ve never met my sister?”
“Ah, no, you didn’t see much of her in the last year, when we were dating seriously.”
Guilt swamped Clare, dousing all the positive feelings she’d just experienced. She hadn’t seen her sister in a year? She’d been told they were estranged, but this much?
“Clarissa?”
Another kind of guilt made her remember all Jonathan had done for her. His comment about Cathy reminded Clare how she had abandoned a lot of people in the past, and it was time to turn that around. So she said, “Why don’t you come to dinner tomorrow night? I’ll cook your favorite meal.”
“That would be great.” He sounded relieved. And pleased.
“Um, Jonathan, what is your favorite?”
A pause. “Your Chicken Cordon Bleu.”
“Oh, good.” Silence. “I’m sorry about not being able to see you all week.” Which was only partly true.
“I understand. Langston’s needs came first.”
“His mother—”
“No, honey, don’t. We aren’t going to fight about this again.”
He’d lost his temper in the hall at the hospital, as he did about anything concerning her time with Brady. Clare had accused him of being
selfish, and he’d left in a huff when she declared she was staying with the family. She hated hurting him, but down deep, it felt right to be making her own decisions again.
He added, “We can work through this. We can work through anything.”
Clare had a blinding flash of him saying that to her before, but the memory was gone before it crystalized. Her body went cold with it, though, so she knew the situation wasn’t good. Whatever had happened was bad, bad enough to block.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow at around seven.” Another pause. “I love you, Clarissa.”
Oh, damn. He hadn’t said those words to her since she’d awakened from the coma. Other conversation reached her consciousness. Jonathan’s voice loud and clear…
I love you, Clarissa. I’ve always loved you. This doesn’t change anything.
Her temples began to pound. Not another headache. She hadn’t had one all week and willed the pain back. “I care about you, too, Jonathan.” She couldn’t manage more. “I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Dropping down on the bed, she sat there immobile for a few seconds. Running her hand across the quilt, she shook her head. She’d dreamed Brady was making love to her in this bed. Yet, Jonathan told her today—and in the past, obviously—that he loved her. And Brady said she had been planning to move in with Jonathan, for God’s sake. Why couldn’t she remember the course of events that led to her accident?
She became even more agitated on the drive over to the hospital for her therapy appointment, thinking about Brady and the dream the whole way. By the time Anna Summers opened her office door and Clare stepped inside, she was a wreck.
As soon as she sat, Anna gave her a once-over. “You’re upset. More memories?”
“Who the hell knows what they are?”
A sympathetic smile. “It’s common to get frustrated when the past comes back in pieces, incomplete and confusing. But the good news is that things are coming back, and that means your memory is returning. “
“It’s awful, Anna. I feel like I’m dancing in the dark, bumping into one memory but not being able to grasp it. I’m disoriented and fearful like I don’t know what I’m going to hit next.”
