When Angels Cry

by Maria Rachel Hooley

  The moments stretched on as Bastian stood there, wondering if he should leave but feeling unable. Time slipped away. A different nurse came in and checked Kaylee’s IV, then looked at Bastian and secured a new packet of fluid on the pole.

  “I’m getting ready to take her to room 324. You can follow if you’d like.” Bastian nodded and moved toward the door.

  “Thanks.” Bastian turned to see her moving the bed and IV post toward the door. As the nurse pushed it into the hallway, she turned right instead of left, toward a huge staff elevator. Once the doors had opened, she wheeled the bed inside and waited for Bastian.

  Once the doors opened, they walked the maze of hallways, and Bastian quickly became disoriented, wondering if he would find his way out of this place once he’d finished his business. The nurse stopped abruptly in front of a room labeled “324” and wheeled Kaylee into it.

  Bastian sat in the chair and watched the nurse plug in the IV and reset the machine, eliciting a few responding beeps. She checked Kaylee’s vitals and, dimming the lamps, glanced at Bastian.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  He shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Push the call button if you need anything.” The nurse scribbled something on Kaylee’s chart. She exited, and Bastian heard her slide Kaylee’s chart into the plastic holder outside the door.

  Once alone with Kaylee, he stepped toward her, trying to muffle the clap of his boots on the linoleum, but there was no way to quiet the sound. Kaylee’s eyes fluttered, and she peered at him questioningly.

  “Who are you?”

  “Bastian Connelly. I’m the guy who interrupted your swim a while ago. How are you feeling?” His voice sounded odd, somehow nervous. Why should he be nervous?

  “Head hurts.” Kaylee blinked as though trying to focus. She lifted it from the pillow and started to rise.

  Bastian frowned. “Easy, Kiddo. You sure you should be moving around like that?” He folded his arms across his chest to keep from hovering.

  “I’m all right. I want to go home.” Kaylee lifted a hand to her left temple.

  “I don’t think it’s in the plan—not tonight, anyway. The doctor said you need to stay for observation.” Bastian sat in the chair across from the bed.

  Kaylee sat up and slipped her legs over the bed’s side, starting to stand. “The doctor can shove it up his--” Kaylee’s knees suddenly buckled, and she gasped as her body pitched forward.

  “Now I know you shouldn’t be doing that. And if you stay, I won’t tell your doctor what you just said.” Bastian lurched out of the chair and caught her as she fell. He slipped his arm under the bend of her knees, lifted her back to the bed.

  Kaylee didn’t respond. Instead, she lay back, trying to relax. Lines of pain and exhaustion etched themselves deep across her forehead.

  “What happened earlier? I mean, one minute you almost get broadsided by a Taurus, and the next you’re going for a swim.” Bastian leaned forward and laced his fingers together, resisting the urge to touch her face. Her wan skin appeared smooth, supple over the swell of her cheekbones.

  She stared at him. “I have a migraine. I get them a lot, and sometimes it’s really tough to focus on what’s going on around me.” Kaylee’s eyelids fluttered open, and she stared at Bastian.

  “Migraine, eh? Maybe you should see about getting a prescription. That stunt could have killed you.” A tremor undercut the usual calm of his tone.

  “They don’t have any drugs that help.”

  “There has to be something they can give you.” Bastian sat up straight, trying to stretch out.

  Kaylee clenched her jaw. “Nope,” she snapped. “Besides, it’s my headache.”

  Bastian arched one eyebrow. “Fair enough,” he agreed. “It is your headache. But who’s to say I’ll be handy the next time you fall in?” He tapped his fingers on the armrest.

  Kaylee snuggled deeper into her pillow, resigning herself to a night of disinfectant hell. “Sorry you had to dive in after me. There won’t be a next time.”

  Bastian grinned. “I’m not. I always wanted to be a member of the Polar Bear Club. If this doesn’t count for my initiation, I don’t know what will.”

  “The water was so cold,” Kaylee whispered and a shiver ran through her. Her voice softened, dusted with fatigue.

  Bastian rose. “Yeah, it was. You look wiped. I should let you get some rest before the nurse throws me out.” Without realizing it, he’d begun to tuck the blanket more tightly around her body. He was almost out of her reach when Kaylee found his hand.

  “Don’t leave.” Her voice slurred, merging the words. “Please. I don’t want to be alone. I hate hospitals.” She clutched his hand.

  Bastian squeezed reassuringly and tried to let go, but her fingers gripped more tightly. “You need your rest. Besides, I’m quite sure the good doctor has called your family.” It’s just a little white lie, Bastian thought.

  “No, he didn’t. They’re out of town and can’t be reached.” Kaylee closed her eyes and nestled closer to the warmth settling through her. Her voice faded into silence. Still, she kept her grip even as she hedged toward unconsciousness.

  Bastian sat. Maybe I can slip away after she’s asleep, he thought. He stared at her as the soft glow from the hallway illuminated the gentle, unbroken line of her nose, the swell of her lips, and the subtle curve of her chin as it gave way to her long graceful neck. A single strand of her hair had slipped into her face, and she stirred slightly, trying to move it away. It stubbornly remained.

  Bastian brushed it aside, and a moment later, Kaylee’s body stilled, and her slumber deepened. Bastian could tell not only by the regular, peaceful way her chest rose and fell but also by the way her grip slowly relaxed until she barely held on. Her skin pressed softly against his palm as he took in the demure build of her hands compared to his own. Her medium-length nails were painted a soft brown.

  Bastian released a sigh of relief, gingerly picked up her hand and placed it across her chest. As he leaned over her, he was struck by how closely she resembled one of the women Dante Rossetti had depicted in his Raphaelite paintings. But that had been art, and this was a woman. No real person should have been this beautiful, he thought.

  But she was.

  “Damn,” Bastian muttered. He walked to the door and hovered there, waiting to make a decision he didn’t realize he’d already made. His hand fell from the knob.

  He sat down and slouched deep in the chair, waiting for sleep. “This is one night, lady, and only one night.”

  Chapter Two

  “Ms. Renard?”

  Bastian peeled open his eyes to find a doctor touching Kaylee’s arm. She stirred, murmuring in her sleep as she shrank from his touch and drifted back to sleep. The doctor frowned, furrowed his brows, and waited. After a moment, he gingerly rocked her shoulder.

  “Kaylee?” he inquired.

  Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared--first at the doctor, as though trying to place him, then at her surroundings before coming to rest on Bastian. Her lips parted in a surprised O.

  “I’m Dr. Andrews. How are you feeling?” The doctor’s expression relaxed, the furrows easing. He pulled up the chair on the opposite side of Kaylee’s bed but she closed her eyes and laid her head back. One small hand touched her forehead, prodding tentatively.

  “I’ve still got a headache. When can I go?” She massaged her temples. After only a moment, the motion ceased, convincing both Bastian and Andrews that she’d drifted back to sleep. Then her eyes opened again.

  “Let’s see how your breathing sounds.” Dr. Andrews scrutinized the chart in his hand and he tugged a stethoscope from around his neck. “Take a deep breath.” Kaylee did. He moved the stethoscope. “And another.” Again, Kaylee complied.

  “I’m not sure you should just yet. Last night you complained of bad headaches and we took a CAT scan to be on the safe side. We were worried that you were sleeping so deeply we could hardly rouse you. You prob
ably don’t even remember that, do you?” He repeated the process three more times before he finally scribbled on her chart. When he finally let the stethoscope drop against his chest and pulled the earpieces free, he peered at her. A hint of the frown had returned.

  ”I’ve seen the CAT scans. I want to go home.” She began to raise herself up on her elbows. Bastian, alarmed by the sudden movement, scooted to the edge of his chair.

  “I don’t think you understand,” Dr. Andrews said, flipping through the pages of her chart.

  “That’s where you’re mistaken. It seems that nobody understands but me. And I’m going. Home is the only place I ever feel better.” Kaylee glared at him. Sitting up the rest of the way, she swung her legs over the side.

  “That’s not a good idea. There are so many other things we could try.” Dr. Andrews shook his head. His fingers clenched the clipboard tightly.

  “I don’t want ‘other things,’ thank you. I want to go home. Period.”

  As Kaylee, Bastian wondered what she was thinking. The doctor had just told her to stay in bed, and she looked like she could pass out at any moment. Bastian wanted to grab her and put her back: she looked way too small and thin in that hospital gown.

  “Be reasonable, ” Dr. Andrews said. He tapped the clipboard against his palm.

  “I want to go home. That’s it.”

  “Fine. I’ll get the nurse to start on the paperwork.” The doctor scribbled on her chart. With a sigh, he strode out, and the door swished noiselessly closed behind him, leaving the room in a deep silence.

  “If I were you, I’d have listened. Then again, you don’t like doctors, I take it.” Bastian rose, a weak smile etching itself across his face. He turned and stepped to the window, nudged a few blind slats apart, and peered out at an overcast day.

  “You’re not me.” She quickly pulled at the tape holding the IV in place and then eased the catheter from her arm. Although a little blood pooled at the IV site, she ignored it. Kaylee stepped slowly, brushing her hand across the chair and wall for guidance as she shuffled to the closet to grab her clothes.

  “Damn it, Kaylee. Couldn’t you be reasonable?” He could hear the wiry brush of the hangers on the rod and turned in time to see her bent over and the soft fluorescent highlighting long, shapely legs in a balancing stance.

  “Who are you anyway? My keeper?” Kaylee grabbed her clothes and whirled to face him.

  Bastian leveled his gaze at her, daring her to meet it. “What’s so insane about letting people help you?”

  “Just forget it, okay? I don’t think I could make you understand even if I wanted to, which I don’t.” Exasperated, she stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door so hard that the wall mirror jumped.

  “Now there’s something we can agree on.” Bastian plunked into a chair, brushing his fingers through his hair and touching his cheek, feeling the stiff prickle of new stubble. He envisioned his rugged reflection in a mirror but shrugged away the image. What did it matter? Getting rid of the stubble on his face wouldn’t get rid of the stubble in his life, so what the fuck? Did he think it would impress her? Not likely; even if he were interested, women like her didn’t do stubble. They liked those Soloflex-smooth college jocks. Brushing his hand across his roughened chin, Bastian thought about the gun still waiting for him.

  Kaylee came out wearing the same black skirt and top as before. Pausing in front of the mirror, she brushed her hair into place with her fingers and it fell in soft waves around her oval face. Satisfied, Kaylee sat on the bed and put on her shoes.

  “Sorry I snapped at you,” she said. “You didn’t deserve that. You did save my life, after all, and you seem like a nice enough guy. It’s just, well...I hate hospitals—and I’m just a little embarrassed by this whole thing.” She smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt.

  “Ah, humility at last.” Bastian grinned.

  The door opened, and a nurse entered with a clipboard. “Here,” she said. “You need to sign these.” She thrust a pen into Kaylee’s hand.

  “I didn’t see my purse in the cabinet. Do you know where it is?”

  “At the bottom of the pond,” Bastian answered. “I thought saving you was a little more important than saving your purse.”

  The nurse took the clipboard, peeled away the yellow copy of each form, and handed them to Kaylee. “These are for your records,” she said and, without a further word, stalked out the door.

  Kaylee shrugged. “I wouldn’t usually ask this, but I don’t have a choice. Could you give me a ride home? I know it’s a terrible imposition. Or maybe you could just loan me the fare–yeah, that might be better–and I could mail it back with interest or something. I’d appreciate it.” Kaylee stepped to the window and raised the blinds momentarily to see the overcast sky and more fresh snow. She shook her head and nervously chewed her bottom lip.

  Bastian’s shoulders tensed. Yeah, well, that makes two of us without money, lady. Otherwise, I’d gladly just give you the fare. Like it or not, though, it looked like he was going to be stuck with her for a bit longer, which might not be a bad thing, after all, so long as he didn’t piss her off.

  He shrugged. “I’ll take you home. Why not? And on the way, maybe we could bomb a medical complex since you seem so fond of them. And you don’t owe me anything.”

  The damned “Why not” was that he found himself liking her even though, right now, he didn’t want to like anything or anyone. It only complicated things.

  “You ready to go?” Kaylee asked. She took her coat out of the closet, and Bastian watched her lithe body disappear into the baggy black leather.

  Bastian nodded and stepped out of the room, listening to the tap of her heels on the linoleum. In the hall, dietary workers busily carted trays into rooms, and nurses bustled about carrying clipboards and IV bags. Kaylee paused, watching the flurry of activity and shivered. Head lowered and eyes forward, she quickened her pace. Bastian strove to keep up.

  Kaylee looked back. “I was wondering if you were coming.”

  “I’m here.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “Thanks again,” she said, smiling weakly, “for the ride.”

  Bastian shook his head. “Thank me after you see my truck.”

  “I don’t care what you drive. It beats walking.”

  “Yeah,” Bastian snorted, “if the thing starts.” He stared at the exit ahead even though he felt Kaylee’s gaze resting on him. “What are you looking at?” he growled.

  “You.” Kaylee blushed and glanced at the floor, counting the tiles as they passed.

  Bastian felt the tag of his shirt rubbing his neck and quickly stopped and searched for it.

  “What are you doing?”

  “The tag is itching.” Bastian felt the hem, knowing that scratchy swatch had to be there somewhere.

  “You’re not having much luck. Here–let me help.” She moved behind him, plucked the tag loose, and handed it to him.

  “Thanks. I hate tags.” He shoved it into his pocket. Bastian resumed walking, and they lapsed into another silence that lasted until they reached the parking lot. As Bastian fished out his keys and stopped in front of his truck, he noted Kaylee’s surprised expression. No, lady, he thought, I don’t have as much money as you. Anymore.

  “I told you it wasn’t a limo,” he muttered.

  “It’s not like you live in it.”

  Bastian unlocked the door, and thought, Come tomorrow I might. If I’m still around. He yanked open the door and gestured Kaylee inside. Once she’d seated herself and pulled her skirt and coat out of the way, he elbowed the door closed and circled around, sliding into the driver’s seat. Then he turned the key. With a loud bang, the ignition caught.

  “Well,” Bastian drawled. “I guess neither of us will be walking.”

  “That’s a good thing,” Kaylee replied, wrapping her arms around herself.

  As Bastian backed the truck out, he laid his arm across the top of the passenger seat and his fingers brushed past K
aylee’s silky hair. He pretended not to notice but left his arm in place anyway. Then he drew his denim jacket collar higher on his neck.

  “Sorry about the cold. The heater doesn’t work.” His breath funneled out in clouds before dissipating. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pair of worn gloves and set them on the seat. “These will keep your hands warm.”

  Kaylee absently fingered the holes in the fabric, wondering how they’d been ripped. Her fingertips moved back and forth across the ruined spots. Nothing lasts forever, she thought, gritting her teeth.

  “They aren’t much,” Bastian growled. “But it’s the best I can do.”

  She pulled them on, grateful for the warmth. “Thank you. It’s nice of you to let me use them.”

  Bastian shook his head, biting his tongue to keep from telling her what she could do with her condescension. He tapped the turn signal and pulled out behind a blue station wagon. Why had he jumped in after her?

  “Where am I taking you?”

  Kaylee leaned back and closed her eyes. “20035 Renquest Lane.”

  Bastian gripped the steering wheel and veered into the right lane, still following the wagon. He'd been right. She was made of money, just like his father. At the next red light, Bastian watched her from his peripheral vision. Small clouds of her breath appeared and disappeared. A few strands of her dark hair fell into her eyes.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Silence. She’d gone to sleep.

  He kept staring, noticing how the sun had turned her dark hair a burnished auburn. The water had chapped her lips, but even in the harsh morning light without make-up, she was beautiful.

  A horn blared from behind, and Bastian’s gaze jerked to a green light. He accelerated through the intersection, and as he turned, Kaylee’s body slumped toward him, her head falling to his shoulder. Her close proximity enticed him, and, without realizing it, he’d leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  What the hell was he doing?

  He looked at her sleeping profile and half-expected her to wake from the turn or the feel of his body supporting her, but she slept, and he wondered just why she had fought the doctor so hard; she should’ve stayed. But who was he to give advice? He couldn’t even manage his own life.