“What happened?”
“Apparently”—the nurse continued talking as she adjusted the oxygen tubes in Meghan’s nose—“she collapsed inside the entrance to the capitol building. Had trouble breathing.”
“She has a condition.” Darla stood beside the bed and ran her finger over Meghan’s pale, white cheeks. “She can’t catch her breath and sometimes faints for no reason. Her doctor thinks it’s a heart condition.”
“We were about to order a chest x-ray. She’s getting fluids and oxygen. The doctor would like to talk with you,” the nurse said, lifting Meghan’s limp wrist between her fingers.
“She has an appointment tomorrow at the Cleveland Clinic for further testing.”
“Since she’s already under a doctor’s care, maybe we can arrange transport to Cleveland. That might be best.” The nurse finished checking Meghan’s vital signs and glanced at Darla for the first time. “She sure looks like her mama.” She smiled as she headed toward the hallway. “Talk to her. Maybe she’ll wake up when she hears your voice.”
The nurse swished the curtains closed on her way out, leaving Darla alone with her daughter. Meghan was so pale but serene in sleep. She’d collapsed again. The episodes seemed to be getting more frequent. The long trip and the possibility of meeting her biological father had to have factored into the fainting spell.
Darla raked her fingers through Meghan’s thick, dark hair—so like her own—and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Meghan, it’s me, Darla. Wake up, sweetie.”
The jagged line on the heart monitor flared and the beeping sped up. She’d heard her voice.
“Wake up, Meghan. I’m here now. You’re going to be okay.”
She ran her hand down the length of Meghan’s arm, and back again, noticing how cold it was. She rubbed her arm gently between her hands, hoping the warmth would somehow wake her up.
“Meghan? Can you hear me?”
What if it was worse this time? Her condition could be more serious than the doctor had originally thought. They had to get her to the specialist. She would pay for the ambulance to transport her to Cleveland herself if it meant she’d get the care she needed. They had to get to the bottom of the medical mystery. Meghan couldn’t live like this—and neither could Darla. She’d been reunited with her daughter and wanted a relationship with her. The only way that would happen is if she earned back her respect.
And Jason’s. He blamed her for Meghan’s running away and it hurt, not only because of the risk to Meghan, but because she was falling for him. It was the first time in her life she’d wanted to start a relationship, open up and give herself to a man. There was something about Jason that had brought her back to life. After today, she feared she’d lost the chance with him.
The curtain whipped open, and this time, the nurse was followed by a woman in a white coat. “Ms. Byrne, I’m Dr. Chen.” The doctor held out her hand, giving Darla a warm handshake.
“I understand Meghan is already under a doctor’s care for her condition. If you could give us his or her name, I can arrange to have the records sent here so that we know how best to treat her.”
“Well, like I told the nurse, she’s scheduled to see a specialist tomorrow.”
“Yes, she shared that with me, but in the meantime, we should know what scripts she’s taking, if there’s a particular course of treatment.”
“Um…well, I’ll have to call her father to get that information.”
“Okay, before you do that, there are some forms we’ll need you to sign.”
The jig was up. Darla may be her biological mother, but not her legal one. They’d probably force her into the waiting room now.
As if on cue, the curtain swayed again as Jason entered the space. “I can sign the forms. I’m her father, Jason Byrne.” He reached out a hand to the doctor as his angry gaze shifted to Darla.
“As I was telling your wife—”
“She’s not my wife.” His tone was harsh, emphatic. There was no point in sticking around. The air in the cubicle had become toxic with Jason’s wrath. Without saying a word to her, he’d made it clear she wasn’t welcome.
“I’ll wait outside,” Darla said, ducking through the curtain.
“Stop.” Jason grabbed her arm. “I want to talk to you.”
A clump formed in Darla’s throat, making it hard to speak. “I’ll be in the waiting room.”
Feet dragging, her heart in her throat, Darla walked through the curtained corridor, using all her strength to push through the double doors. The waiting room was crowded with coughing children, pacing loved ones, and a man whose arm was wrapped in a blood-soaked towel. Nausea swirled in her stomach, and she feared she’d get sick. She rushed through the revolving door out into the glaring sunshine and fell onto a bench outside the hospital, dropping her head between her knees. Her ears rang, muffling the sound of cars pulling to the curb and people speaking to one another. It wasn’t until she saw a pair of brown oxfords on the sidewalk that she realized Jason was standing in front of her.
She lifted her head and found him looking down at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Fear streaked down her spine.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I don’t know. The nurse said she fainted inside the capitol building. Had trouble breathing.”
“Did she get a chance to see him?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”
He ground his fist into his palm and glanced over his shoulder toward the entrance, blowing out a heavy sigh.
Darla stood on shaking legs to face him. “How did you know she was here?”
“I got a call from the hospital. I guess she had my number in her wallet as an emergency contact.” His eyes locked with hers as a deep crease formed between his brows. “I left as soon as Kristin called to tell me she was coming to Charleston. You didn’t have to come.”
“I wanted to. I was worried.”
“About?”
“Jason, please. I know you blame me for this, but I love Meghan. I care what happens to her.”
Darla grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight. Jason pulled away. His disdain crushed her.
“I knew it was too soon to find you. She wasn’t mature enough to handle this. But with her medical condition, she insisted I find you.”
“You said she was ready to hear the truth.”
“I was wrong, okay?” he shouted. Angry and frustrated, he rubbed the tension at the base of his neck.
“I’m sorry. Please let me help.” This time when she reached for him, he stepped back and glared down at her outstretched hands. It was so unlike the sweet, passionate man who’d kissed her breathlessly in the park. He was through with her.
“We don’t need your help. We’ve been on our own for eighteen years.”
“Let me help pay for the cost of transporting her to Cleveland or help with her medical bills at least.”
“I can handle it.”
Jason walked away, slamming his hands into the revolving door, leaving Darla alone and bewildered on the sidewalk outside the hospital. She should never have told Meghan about her biological father. None of this would’ve happened, and Jason wouldn’t be furious with her. She had to make things right. Meghan accused her of being a coward, not standing up for herself to Clyde Fletcher. It was time she did.
SEVENTEEN
Finding a parking space wasn’t as easy the second time. Darla skirted around the capitol block three times before pulling into a diagonally marked space. She checked her makeup in the rearview mirror and took a deep breath. She could do this. She had nothing to fear from Clyde Fletcher—not anymore.
She glanced at her watch as she walked past the pair of fountains at the base of the stairs. Four thirty…would he still be in? His schedule would be closely managed, but she felt confident he’d see her.
The same security guard stood sentry inside the building but didn’t appear to remember her.
“Put your purse on the conve
yor belt and walk through the metal detector.”
Darla did as she was instructed and waited while he searched through her purse. Chuckling silently, the thought crossed her mind that maybe she should’ve come armed.
“Do you have an appointment?” the guard asked, satisfied with the contents of her handbag.
“No, but I was hoping to see the governor on a personal matter.”
“I doubt you’ll see him without an appointment, but you can check with the receptionist.”
Darla’s heels echoed in the cavernous foyer as she clicked across the room. A sleepy receptionist smiled at her without saying a word.
“I’d like to see the governor.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
Were they all trained to ask the same questions? “No, I don’t, but I’m an old friend of Governor Fletcher’s. I’m sure he’ll see me.”
“Your name, please?”
“Darla Heartwood.”
The receptionist lifted the black handset and murmured to someone on the other end, occasionally glancing at Darla. A few seconds later she asked, “What’s this in reference to?”
What was she supposed to say? I’d like to talk to him about the numerous times he raped me, resulting in an unexpected pregnancy. That would get her upstairs.
“It’s a personal matter, but I’m sure if his secretary told him my name, he’d be happy to see me.”
“Hold on.” She held up her finger and repeated what Darla had just said. After a few more murmurings, she replaced the receiver and pointed toward the bank of elevators. “He’ll see you now.”
She was in. She was about to face Clyde Fletcher for the first time in eighteen years. Though her heart was pounding ferociously, she had to remain calm. She must confront the beast, not only for Meghan, but for herself and Jason. Fear, humiliation, and self-loathing had held her back for too long. It was time she took back her life.
She was met outside the elevator by another receptionist who escorted her to the governor’s office. The hallway sounded like a vacuum chamber with only the sound of her heels ricocheting off the white, marble walls. When her feet hit the carpet, everything fell to a hush.
“Right this way, please,” the receptionist said with a warm smile. She turned the doorknob, pushing it open for Darla to enter. Clyde Fletcher looked up from the papers scattered on his desk, and Darla’s legs turned to jelly. She leaned against the doorframe for support as he rose from his chair with a campaign-poster smile.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Darla Heartwood. My gracious, honey, but you sure did surprise me.”
Clyde came around his enormous desk with his arms outstretched. He had aged dramatically since she’d last seen him in person. His hair was completely gray and his temples snow white. His belly was at least two pant sizes bigger, and his shiny veneers had been polished to blinding.
“Hello, honey. Give ol’ Clyde a hug.”
Never.
“Why, Darla, are you feeling okay? Come on in here and sit down.”
Walking toward her and closing in fast, Darla finally gained the strength back in her limbs and stood tall before he could sweep her into his arms. She skirted around him and stood behind an arm chair, putting a barrier between the two of them.
“Governor Fletcher, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Sure, darlin’. Don’t you want to sit?”
“I’d rather stand, thank you.”
“Suit yourself.”
He shoved his hands in his black, pinstripe suit pants and smiled broadly, like a grandpa pleased to receive a visit from one of his grandkids. There was nothing pleasant about what she was about to say.
“My, but haven’t you turned into a pretty peach? But then again, you were always a looker.”
“Sir, you need to know—”
“Now, honey, why so formal? We go back a long way.” He chuckled and circled his desk, dropping into his throne-like, leather chair. “Somehow I’ve missed you each time I’ve been in Highland Springs. Thought for sure we’d have caught up at the Rotary Meeting during the campaign.”
Thankfully, her racing heart slowed and her courage grew. How dare he act as though they were old friends. There was no way she would’ve come within a mile of him when he was in town. Instead of fear, anger surged through her veins. This crazy, old coot’s memory was failing. It was time she reminded him.
“I purposely avoided you when you came to town.”
“Gosh, Darla, why would you do that?”
“I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t important.”
“Well, then, tell me what’s on your mind.”
Darla took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Nearly eighteen years ago when I worked for you—”
“We had some fun back then, didn’t we?”
She gripped the back of the chair, her knuckles white as she fought to keep her composure. “You might’ve had fun, but I was traumatized.”
“Traumatized?”
“You seem to have a little problem with your memory.” His feigned ignorance, with knitted brows and mouth agape, only emboldened her. “We weren’t having fun. You raped me, repeatedly, and threatened to fire my father if I said anything.”
“Now, listen here—”
“Sit down, Clyde. I have more to say.” She surprised him—and herself—with her firm command. She’d never spoken like that to anyone. “Not only did you molest me, underage, still a child, you got me pregnant.”
“That’s impossible.” He sprang from his chair, causing it to bump against the credenza. “What’s this bullshit you’re spouting?”
“Not bullshit at all. You got me pregnant at fifteen years old. I went off to live in Ohio that summer and gave birth to a baby girl in January.”
“You’re a liar.”
“How dare you call me a liar!” Like an uncaged animal, she rushed to the front of his desk, ready to pounce. She anchored her hands against the glossy mahogany and leaned in. “I gave her up for adoption, but we’ve reunited and she knows all about you. She turned eighteen in January.”
“Why are you doing this? What’s in it for you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You trying to blackmail me or something?”
Clyde’s anger set Darla on fire, but he had asked a good question. What was in it for her? Self-respect. Confidence. Freedom. Most of all, she hoped to be a good role model for Meghan.
“I’m not blackmailing you. Just letting you know what you did to me.”
“But there must be a reason why you’re telling me this now. Is there some cause you’re taking up?”
“My only cause is to tell you time’s up.”
“Is this about that women’s health care bill? I’m sorry, but I can’t support—”
“Damn it, Clyde, I’m not asking for anything. I just want you to know I gave birth to a child because you raped me. I imagine there are others.” A photo of his wife, children, and grandchildren caught her attention, making her blood boil. “You need to stop spouting your traditional, God-fearing, family rhetoric.” She picked up the picture frame and poked her finger at the glass. “West Virginia citizens—and your wife—would be shocked to know of your penchant for young girls.”
Before she could jump back, he flew out of his chair and wrapped his hand around her wrist, pulling her across the desk. The frame fell from her hand as she stumbled onto her hip, catching a whiff of his putrid, alcohol-laced breath as he leaned in close. “Listen here, you little bitch. This game of yours stops now.”
His fingers squeezed into her tendons, making her hand numb. With her free hand, Darla fought for leverage to pull out of his grasp. In her struggle, she grabbed hold of a paperweight and pounded it against his arm and shoulder until he released his grip. She fell into the chair angled in front of his desk and massaged feeling back into her hand.
“What the hell is the matter with you? I could have you arrested for assaulting the governor.”
“I wouldn’t try it,” she croaked. “All I have to do is show them the bruises on my wrist.”
Clyde rocked back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, blowing out a heavy sigh. He scrubbed his hands over his face and then gripped the arms of his chair until his knuckles turned white. While he attempted to regain his composure, Darla rubbed the pain from her arm.
“Look, Darla,” he said, once again under control. “I’m not sure what it is you want from me. I mean, the girl—if she really exists—is too old for child support, unless you’re looking to extort some money out of me.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Then why did you bother to tell me?”
“I came here because I’ve held it in for too long. It’s been eating away at me.”
He threw back his head against his leather chair and let out a hearty guffaw. When he slapped his hand down on his desk, Darla saw stars. How dare he laugh at her!
“Honey, I’m not a psychologist. I can’t help you with whatever’s been bothering you. Maybe my assistant can find a therapist for you in the phone book.”
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I believe you got pregnant when you were fifteen. You were a looker even back then, and I’m sure you had plenty of randy boys chasing after your luscious behind. Maybe one of them got you knocked up.”
“There wasn’t anyone else.”
“Aw, that’s sweet. I was your one and only. You saved it just for me.”
“You pig.”
“Damn girl, you sure don’t seem to know your place. You can’t be calling the governor a pig.” Clyde bound to his feet and walked across the office to a cabinet where crystal goblets were arranged in neat rows. He lifted a cut-glass water pitcher and waved it at her. “Would you like a glass of water? With all your spouting, you’ve probably worked up a thirst.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself.” He filled a glass and drank it down in one gulp. “So was there anything else you wanted to talk about other than this bogus claim?” On his way back to his chair, he brushed a gentle finger across her cheek, causing a sickening swell in her stomach.
Once he was safely behind his desk, she stood up to leave. There was no need to stay any longer. She’d delivered her news and wasn’t sure what more she could do.
Whatever It Takes: A Highland Springs Romance (Whatever Series Book 4) Page 14
