by Tamie Dearen
He crossed the floor in four steps to stand in front of her. “Don’t go. Please. I don’t want you to go.”
She strained her neck to look up at him. He was so close to her she could feel the heat radiating from his body. She opened her mouth to reply, but her mind was foggy. She couldn’t form a coherent thought.
Suddenly, he grabbed both of her arms with his hands. His voice was gravely and deep. “Anne—”
He pressed his lips to hers, claiming her mouth with his. This was no gentle supplication, but a heavy, needy demand. She froze, shocked by his incursion. And then the heat began to spread through her body, warming her deep inside. Her bags fell from her fingers, and her hands rose of their own accord to press against his firm chest. She felt his heart pounding under her touch. Her own heart was answering, fluttering like a captured bird.
Her lips softened, and she heard a small whimper. Was that her? He groaned in response and deepened his kiss. His breathing was quick and heavy. He moved his hands to embrace her and crushed her against him. She clung to him as his mouth continued to assault her sense. Sparks rippled down every nerve.
Abruptly, a strident song rang out from Anne’s cell phone, and they sprung apart, breathing heavily. “I… I should get that. It’s Charlie.”
He nodded, clamping his eyes shut and rubbing frustrated fingers through his hair.
She rummaged through her purse to find her phone. “Hello? Charlie?”
“Mom! Mom! Grandpa… He was in a car wreck! I don’t know how bad, but they called me from the hospital! He was coming to pick me up and…” Charlie sobbed. “Mom, I don’t know! I don’t know! They’re in surgery! Emily’s going! I’m getting a taxi! But we don’t know—I think it’s bad!” She sobbed again. “Mom—”
“I’m coming! I’m coming as soon as I can get a flight! I’m coming, baby! Let me hang up and call the airline. I love you, baby.”
She hung up the phone and fell sobbing into Steven’s arms. Her mind was flooded with memories of the Thanksgiving fifteen years before, when a similar phone call had ended her fairytale life. She was consumed with terror and began to shake even as he held her.
“Did you hear?” she choked.
“I heard, I heard. I’m sorry.” He held her close and caressed her head with his hand. He held her until she caught her breath, then urged her toward the couch to sit.
“I’ll make the calls,” he said. “I’ll get your flight changed.”
“I… I should…”
“You sit. Give me your ticket. I’ll take care of you.”
Phone Issues
“Anne, are you okay? Have you had anything to eat?” Steven asked as he strapped her into the seat on his private plane.
Anne stared at him, his voice barely registering, and nodded her head. He said some more things, his expression urgent, but she couldn’t make sense of his words.
“You haven’t heard anything I’ve said, have you?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered in a hoarse tone. She tried hard to focus on what he was saying.
“I can’t come with you But Gram called last night and told me she’s been having chest pains. I can’t leave her here alone right now.”
She nodded again. Surely everything would come back to her later.
His hands cupped her face, as he bent to speak closely. “Anne, I need to know you’re hearing me, okay?”
This time she made eye contact with him. “Okay,” she croaked, as his thumb brushed a tear that rolled down her face.
“Repeat this for me. It’s very important for you to remember.”
She blinked hard, trying to concentrate.
“When the plane lands I will turn my cell phone back on and check my messages. Can you say that?”
“When the plane lands, I will…”
“Turn my phone on.”
“Turn my phone on.”
“And check messages.”
“And check messages.”
“Okay, now listen. I gave the pilot the name and address of the hospital. He’ll get a taxi for you and make sure you get there. Unless one of the girls comes to get you. Emily’s going to call your phone and leave a message as soon as she knows something.”
“Okay. Thank you for—”
“No need for thanks. I want to help.” He straightened up. “Anne, there’s one more thing. Will you let me call Henri and tell him what happened? It’ll be awfully late in Paris by the time you get to Fort Worth.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“And will you call me when you get to the hospital?”
Tears began to tumble down her cheeks again. She watched as he walked to the back of the plane and returned with a box of tissues. He pulled one out gently dried her face before handing her the rest of the box. His own shirt had salty tearstains on the chest.
“Are you going to be okay?” He looked as miserable as she felt.
“What if he doesn’t make it?”
“He’ll be okay.”
Even in her distressed state, she knew he was saying what she wanted to hear. When she landed in Texas, her father might already be dead.
Gherring squeezed her hand before departing the plane. As the engines roared, her mind swirled. Her mind was so clogged with terrifying images of her father in a mangled car, that she couldn’t process her earlier scene with Steven Gherring.
He had kissed her? Had that really happened? What did it mean?
I can’t think about it. Not now. Not until I know Dad is going to be okay.
Later, she could deal with other things. Like Steven Gherring and the kiss that should never have happened.
When the plane finally landed and Anne checked her messages, she heard Emily’s shaky voice. “Mom, come as soon as you can. Charlie’s here. Grandpa’s alive. He’s in critical condition.”
The taxi ride seemed interminable. But she dared not ask the driver to hurry. Every time he changed lanes or used the brake she caught her breath, especially since the roads were wet. She called Emily from the car and both girls were waiting in the lobby for her when she arrived.
“You’re here,” cried Charlie, muffled from their group hug. “Everything’s gonna be okay, now.”
“That’s how I feel too,” said Emily. “Everybody was talking to me like I was a grownup, and I just wanted to cry like a little girl. I’m so glad you’re home.”
Anne wept and hugged her girls and peppered them with kisses. “Take me up there.”
She was shocked to see her dad, bandaged and bruised, with tubes coming out of him and surrounded by flashing electrical gadgets. When Tom and his parents were killed in the car accident fifteen years previously, they’d been pronounced dead at the scene. She hadn’t experienced seeing her loved ones, unrecognizable, in the alien-like hospital environment.
She bent over to place a tender kiss on his head in an unbandaged spot. Arriving to check his vital signs, the nurse informed Anne of his condition.
“We’re keeping him unconscious right now. He came through the surgery pretty well for a sixty-eight-year-old. It’s fortunate he was so healthy—his heart is strong. He has a broken arm, compound fracture. We’ve already set it. He also has some broken ribs and a punctured lung. We have some low-pressure oxygen to help keep the lung inflated while it heals. His spleen was ruptured, but the doctors only had to remove part of it. He lost a lot of blood, and he’s not out of the woods yet. But he has a good chance of surviving.”
She patted Anne on the arm. “You look terrible, dear. It could have been much worse. A number of people died in that accident.”
“There were other people? Do you know what happened?”
“As I understand it, there were at least ten cars involved. It had just started to rain and the bridge immediately iced up. Those cars were going seventy miles an hour when they hit the ice. They never had a chance. Most of the ambulances came here, but I understand some went to other hospitals. So I don’t know exactly how many people were injured.”
“I was so worried about Dad I didn’t even think about other cars being involved.”
“Understandable. But I think you can relax a little. He’s a fighter, and it takes a real fighter to battle back from something like this. It’s already past visiting hours, so I’m afraid you’ll need to come back tomorrow. We have your contact information, right? We’ll take good care of him and call you if there’re any changes. Tomorrow or the next day, he may get to move to a regular room. Then you can stay with him as long as you like.” She smiled as she ushered them out.
Anne breathed a sigh of relief as they walked toward the elevator. But she saw Emily and Charlie exchange a worried look. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Mom,” said Charlie, with huge tears falling from her golden eyes. “Gandalf was in the car.”
Emily was driving to the veterinary office while Anne, in the passenger’s seat, was jumping at every move the car made. It was like reliving a nightmare. She’d refused to drive for a month after the accident that killed Tom.
“Mom, you’ve got to relax a little,” Emily complained. “You’re making me nervous, and I need to concentrate.”
“Sorry, sorry… I’m trying.”
Some Good Samaritan drove Gandalf over there,” Emily said. “I got a call on my cell because my number was associated with his ID chip.”
“And what did the message say?” asked Anne.
“The message said to call because they had Gandalf. But when I contacted them, and the nurse said they were going to do surgery. He’d lost a lot of blood from internal bleeding, but they couldn’t do surgery until they’d gotten my permission.” Her lip quivered. “He may have died because it took so long for me to call them back.”
“Oh honey, no! It was an accident, and you were busy keeping Grandpa alive. It’s not your fault.”
Charlie was crying. “Stop talking about him like he’s already dead. We don’t know for sure.”
“But he’s so old. He wouldn’t be strong enough to recover,” said Emily.
Anne struggled to find a dry spot on her last remaining tissue. “It had to happen sometime. We’ve had him for nine-and-a-half years—that’s pretty good. Most Irish Wolfhounds only live five to ten years.”
On their arrival, the clinic appeared deserted. But there was a single light burning inside. “They said there might be someone here until ten o’clock, and it’s almost ten now. If not, we’ll have to come back tomorrow,” said Emily.
They rang the night bell and waited for several minutes before they heard the sound of movement inside. A light flipped on and the door opened. A small bespectacled man who looked to be at least seventy years old stood in the doorway. “Can I help you?”
“We’re here about Gandalf? The Irish Wolfhound?”
“Oh. The Wolfhound. The car accident. I’m so sorry. Come in.”
He walked ahead of them down a long dim hallway.
“Are you the doctor?” asked Anne.
“Yes, I’m Dr. Williams. This used to be my practice, but I sold it to a great young doctor named Christine Stephenson. I’m just here to check on the surgery patients one last time before bed.”
“And what about Gandalf?” Anne asked, dreading the answer.
He opened a door. “He’s still in here. I thought you’d want to see him.”
Anne’s heart fell as she passed through the doorway with her girls. Gandalf’s limp body lay sprawled across an operating table. Blood was smeared on his fur, although it was obvious someone had tried to clean him up. The IV tube had been disconnected and was hanging loose. Anne looked at his still body and tried to connect this image with the joyfully rambunctious dog Gandalf had been.
Though she meant to be strong for her daughters, a sob escaped. She leaned over his head and kissed him, her tears wetting his fur. Emily was weeping audibly. Charlie threw her arms around him, crying out, “Gandalf!”
Emily rubbed his head and kissed his nose. “He’s still warm. He must’ve just died!”
Anne heard Dr. Williams behind her. “He’s not dead—I thought you knew. He’s just so big I can’t move him by myself. I was trying to figure out what to do when you rang the bell.”
“What? He’s alive?” asked Anne.
The girls began sobbing anew and kissing Gandalf all over.
Anne grabbed Dr. Williams and squeezed him in a bear hug. “Thank you, thank you!”
He blustered a bit and patted her back. “It wasn’t really me. It was Dr. Stephenson that did the surgery. Of course, I taught her everything I know.”
Anne’s phone rang, and she answered quickly, thinking it might be the hospital.
“Hello?”
“Anne?” Steven Gherring’s voice sounded anxious. “You didn’t call. I—I was worried.”
She froze. With the news of the accident, Anne had blocked out all other thoughts. But now, hearing his voice, a flood of memories and images and emotions invaded her head.
She remembered. Everything.
He’d come to her apartment. He’d kissed her. And she’d kissed him back. Like a starving woman.
He must think she’d be willing to sleep with him. Is that what would’ve happened if the phone hadn’t interrupted them? She remembered the deep ache that had threatened to overwhelm her senses. Somehow, she couldn’t control herself around Steven Gherring. How far would she have gone if Charlie hadn’t called? What would she have done if her father hadn’t been in a near-fatal car accident?
“Anne? Are you there?” Steven's voice was insistent, even frightened.
“I—I—” Suddenly the room narrowed. Anne knew she had to sit down, or she would pass out.
“Emily, take this.” She handed the phone off and sat down, dropping her head between her legs. She could only hope Steven didn’t spill the beans about what had happened between them.
She heard muffled voices, and eventually felt a hand on her back. She tentatively lifted her head, glad when the room didn’t spin.
“Mom, are you okay?” Emily asked.
“I think so.”
It’s probably low blood sugar,” said Charlie, who was still standing with Gandalf.
“Mr. Gherring just wanted to know if Grandpa was okay,” said Emily as she tucked the cell phone back into Anne’s purse. “I told him about Gandalf, too.”
“Good. Good. Did he say anything else?” Did she even want to know?
“I thanked him for flying you here, and he asked you to call him as soon as you can. He said you could call any time, even though it’s late.”
“Guess he turned out to be a whole lot nicer than you first thought,” said Charlie.
“He’s very nice.”
And very enticing.
“Why haven’t you called Mr. Gherring?” Emily unfolded her couch into the bed Anne was going to sleep on. Charlie was going to share her sister’s bed. Emily’s place was only twelve minutes from the hospital, so they were all crowding into the small apartment.
“I’ll call him tomorrow.” Anne retrieved her toothbrush from her bathroom bag, hoping they’d let the subject drop.
“Why did you freak out when he called you?” Emily asked.
“I don’t know,” Anne said. “Why did you neglect to tell me you’d been talking to Spencer on the phone?”
“You’ve been talking to Spencer?” cried Charlie. “Sister! You’re keeping secrets from me.”
“Nice try, Mom, but I asked you first,” said Emily.
“We kind of had a scene before Charlie called, because he didn’t want me to go to Paris to see Henri.”
“What kind of scene? Like a yelling scene? Mr. Gherring doesn’t seem like the type of guy who’d yell at a girl,” said Charlie.
“He didn’t yell. He just asked me not to go. And I insisted I was going, because I’d promised Henri. Besides Henri really needed me. I feel terrible he’s going to be alone, when he thought I was coming. He’s so upset about Anna-Laure.”
Emily crooked her head. “He d
id you a big favor, flying you here. You owe him a phone call.”
“It’s all kind of awkward. I don’t know what he wants.”
“Maybe he just wants to talk to you, like he said. Did he hurt your feelings or something? He really sounded kind of pitiful to me.” Emily tossed her a pillow.
“You might not even be here yet, if it weren’t for Mr. Gherring,” Charlie said. “I think you should call him.”
“I don’t want to feel obligated to him.”
“But he seems so generous,” Emily argued. “I don’t think he expects anything in return.”
You might not say that if you knew the whole story.
“I’ll call him tomorrow,” Anne said. “Now, about those phone calls with Spencer…”
“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,” said Emily. “Right after you call Mr. Gherring.”
Anne’s phone rang as they were driving to the hospital in the morning. She held her breath until she checked the caller ID.
“Hi Gram.”
“Anne, dear. How is your father? Steven says he’s in ICU.”
“He’s got a broken arm and broken ribs, a punctured lung and he lost part of his spleen. But he’s alive, and we feel blessed.”
“I’m so glad, dear. I know you must’ve been pretty frightened.”
“Yes, I barely remember most of what happened yesterday.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she recalled her encounter with Steven in the apartment. She labored to breathe.
“I thought I’d give you a report on our little project,” said Gram. “My little ploy worked like a charm. Thanks to my ‘chest pains,’ Steven’s been very distracted. And Michelle is supposed to fly out tonight. So I think we’re safe for now.”
“That’s great, Gram.”
At this point, Anne wondered if it might’ve been better if Steven had reunited with Michelle. At least that would’ve removed him as a temptation.
What would she do if he tried to kiss her again?
I’d let him—that’s what I’d do. Because I have the willpower of a sea cucumber.
