by CL Rowell
“No rush.” The old man was beaming. “Take your time. So many rush through the engagement, barreling toward the bliss of holy matrimony, and end up regretting that they didn’t enjoy the moment.”
“But, Dad, I want grand babies,” she protested.
“I know you do, but it’s not about you.” He turned back to us. “Remember when your grandmother used to tell you the story of the tortoise and the hare?”
“I do.” Geoff nodded, grinning. “The tortoise always won.”
“Yes, he did…because he took his time and paced himself. Be the tortoise, Geoff—or one day you’ll wake up and look back, realizing too late that you spent so much time hurrying that you missed your life. Your life will go by too fast as it is—make it a marathon, not a mad dash.”
“I will, grandpa—we both will—but, after we’re married.” I grinned at Mom. “We’re thinking maybe the weekend before Christmas.” And, coincidentally, before my twenty-fifth birthday on the twenty-third.
“Wonderful! Now sit down and enjoy your meal. The chef’s assistant has already peeked in on us twice. I don’t know about you but I’m looking forward to that spaghetti and bread pudding.”
I glanced over at Geoff’s dad and alarm shot through me. He wasn’t looking good at all. I gasped, “Uhh, Geoff…”
Chapter Eleven
Geoff
∞∞∞
“Uhh, Geoff…” that was all it took to get my attention—two terror-filled words.
“Yeah?” When she didn’t respond, I glanced over, but she wasn’t even looking at me. I followed the direction she was looking with my eyes. Dad. It was obvious that something was wrong. His face was grey, and he was clutching his chest. I threw my chair back and leaped to my feet. “Somebody call nine-one-one—now!”
“Frank?” I heard my mom shriek, “Oh my god, Frank!”
I didn’t have time to worry about it, though. Dad was slowly slipping sideways and if I didn’t get there, he was going to hit the floor—hard. I prayed that someone was calling for an ambulance as I eased his body down and put my shirt under his head.
“You’re gonna be okay,” I told him, staring into his faded brown eyes through a persistent blur that wouldn’t go away. He didn’t hear me, though. As I was trying to reassure him, his entire body went limp as he lost consciousness.
Acting on training I received on impulse in college last year, I started CPR chest compressions, hoping to keep his blood pumping through his body until help arrived. I didn’t feel the tears tracking down my cheeks to pepper his shirt with dots of moisture and I didn’t hear my sobs as I begged my father not to die. Juliet told me later, at the hospital, while we waited for word on his condition.
While I was focused on trying to keep my dad alive, she and Grandpa brought Mom into the living room where Grandpa comforted her while Juliet called for emergency assistance. Grandpa continued to keep his daughter calm while Juliet waited at the door, bawling her eyes out as she listened to me pleading loudly for my dad to hang on just a little longer over and over again like it was a magical mantra.
“It killed me,” she whispered, cuddled against my side in the waiting room. “You were sobbing, begging God not to take your dad away, and begging your dad to hold on—and there was nothing I could do other than to wait for the freaking ambulance to arrive because someone had to let them in. I wanted to help you. I wanted to lend you my strength and be there for you—”
“And you were. You helped Grandpa get Mom out of the room and you called nine-one-one like I asked. You were crying, but you kept your wits about you and showed the paramedics where we were. You heard them—our teamwork was what gave him the best chance for survival. That teamwork was you calling and watching for them to arrive while I kept up the CPR. Without both of those we would have been fighting a losing battle.”
“I know—but I wanted to do more.”
“The only way you could have done more would have been if you could have split yourself into twins or triplets and that isn’t possible.”
“I—”
“Mrs. Blanxart?”
In the blink of an eye, all three of us were locked onto the young surgeon in blue scrubs standing a few feet away from us.
“I’m Vera Blanxart—” my mother whispered, “Are you my husband’s doctor?”
“One of them, yes. I’m Doctor Hews.”
“How is he?” she asked as we approached from two different directions.
“Are these your kids?” He studied me and Juliet. “Is it okay for me to speak in front of them?”
“I’m their son and she’s my fiancée,” I informed him.
“You can speak in front of them,” my mom assured him. “They’re family.”
“Good. Okay…the good news is that he made it through surgery. We almost lost him a couple of times, but he rallied and pulled through. He’s definitely a fighter and he inspired us to give it our best, too, even when it seemed that all was lost.” He removed his hair cover and ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked drained, as if he’d poured everything he had into saving my father. “There was near total to total blockage in three different areas and we had to perform an emergency triple bypass. He should completely recover thanks to the efforts of whoever called for help and performed CPR. Calling nine-one-one and immediately starting chest compressions was the best thing that could have been done. In doing that they insured quick medical assistance and, equally important if not more, they kept the blood flowing to his heart and other vital organs.”
“It was them,” Mom praised us. “I panicked but Juliet called for assistance while Geoff started CPR. In fact, it was her quick eye that allowed him to react so quickly and go to his dad’s aid as fast as he did.”
“Excellent work,” he gripped and shook both of our hands. “I’m always happy to heap praise on those who deserve it and the two of you definitely deserve it. You’re directly responsible for your father’s survival. The heart attack he had is called the widow maker and they don’t call it that for nothing. The faster the reaction time and the quicker you get medical attention the more likely it is that they’ll not only survive but fully recover. Great work—you made our job so much easier and I wish more people were as prepared as you two were.”
“Thank you.” It felt weird saying it but I had to say something and I wasn’t sure of how else to respond.
“When can we see him?” Mom’s voice was small and unsure.
“He’s in recovery and will probably remain in there for a bit longer. He hasn’t even regained consciousness yet. I can let you in there, one at a time—for a few moments—but afterwards, he really needs peace and quiet.”
“You go, Mom. Take my moments, too. We’ll wait out here for you.”
“Are you sure?” I could see the mixture of hope and worry and anxiety swirling in her eyes.
“I’m sure. Go peek in on him, reassure yourself, and when you come out, we’ll go home and get some rest.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she shook her head. “What if he needs me? I’d rather stay—”
“They’ll call if anything comes up. If you stay here, you’re just risking getting sick, yourself.”
“But—”
“He’ll be pretty much out of it for the next several hours,” the doctor assured her. “I doubt he’ll even know anyone is there—he’s on some powerful sedatives. If you’d like, I can have one of the nurses call you once he starts to come around.”
“Yes, please.” She glanced back at us, still visibly unsure. “I’m just gonna peek in and I’ll be back.”
“Okay. Take your time.”
Chapter Twelve
Juliet
∞∞∞
Vera…Mom…was barely hanging onto her composure when she came back out to the waiting area. She said he was hooked up to so many wires that he looked like some half human-half machine composite from one of those sci-fi shows he loved to watch. So many machines were going off, wi
th alarms blaring and beeping, and lights flashing frantically, she found herself afraid to move, afraid she’d knock something over.
“I tried to reach for his hand so he’d know I was there, but I bumped something and a nurse rushed in, shooing me away. I tried to ask her what was allowed but before I could get more than two words out, they were shouting some code over the speakers and off she went.” She put her hand to her throat, wide-eyed, “Perhaps you’re right and we should return to the house until he starts to come around. Surely, they’ll remember to call if there’s any change, right?”
I put my arm around her and let her lean on me. “We can come back in the morning to peek in on him if you want to, too.”
“We can?” Her light eyes were so wide I could see the whites all the way around the iris. “What about school?”
“It’s the weekend…remember? Tomorrow is Saturday.”
“Oh,” her lashes fluttered as my words sunk in. “It feels like days have passed—weeks—and it’s only been a few hours. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.”
I pulled her closer and gave Geoff a helpless look as her eyes filled and she broke down, finally feeling free to let herself react after the worst was over.
“Come on, Mom,” he put his arm around her from the other side to help me guide her toward the exit. “Let’s get you home. A few hours of sleep will do you a world of good.”
We rode to the hospital in her car, a Volvo S90 and when I saw it in the parking lot, I was grateful for the room. I coaxed her into the backseat with me and held her hand all the way back to the house, just letting her know I was there. I took deep cleansing breaths on the ride, in through my nose and out through my mouth, letting the scent of the leather flush the chemical hospital smells out of my nose. She copied my actions, whether consciously or not, and was visibly calmer by the time we pulled into the drive.
Her father met us at the door, and it was obvious, as it opened before we even reached the bottom step, he’d been watching for us. He kissed the top of her head. “How you holding up, shortcake?”
“I’ve been better. I think I’m just going to pour myself a nice glass of wine, fill the tub with bubbles, and soak before going to bed.”
“You do that, baby. Go get your water started and I’ll bring you a tray up with a glass of wine and a selection of fruit and cheeses.”
“You don’t have to do that, Daddy. I’m not a little girl,” she protested, smiling at the thought.
“You’ll always be my little girl—now, git.”
“Yes, sir.” She moved like she felt light as a feather as she headed up the stairs…like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It made me smile.
Later, sitting in front of the fireplace with gas flames flickering around ceramic logs, Geoff filled him in over stronger drinks.
“They had to perform a triple bypass and put in some stents,” he murmured.
“Sounds like he’s lucky to be alive.” When we both nodded, he huffed, “I told him to dial it back or the stress was going to kill him, but he wouldn’t listen. Always hopping from one sure thing to another, positive each one was going to make him money hand over fist. All they really did was bleed him dry.” He bowed his head and hesitated. “Geoff, I have a confession to make—”
“You don’t have to confess anything.”
“Yes, I do. What happened tonight convinced me that no one knows when their time will come, and I have some things to get off my chest.”
“I think I’m gonna leave you two alone to talk.” I stood up to go.
“No, stay—it’s late. You can sleep in one of the guest rooms,” Geoff protested.
“No, I’m going to head back to my dorm room. You two have a ton of stuff to talk about and your dad’s in the hospital. I’d just be in the way. I’ll call an Uber.”
“I can—”
“I said I’ll call an Uber.”
“Just say yes, dear, Geoff. You’re not going to win the argument so you may as well give in gracefully,” his grandpa offered. “Pay for the Uber, kiss her and tell her you will see her later.”
“But—”
“I speak from the experience of fifty years of marriage, Geoff. Listen now or learn by trial and error as I did, for I, too, was once young and dumb enough to think I knew it all.”
“Fine, I’ll call for an Uber. Do you want to go to the hospital with us in the morning?”
I hugged him. “I think your family needs your full and complete attention right now. I’ll still be here when things settle down. Concentrate on them.”
“What did I ever do to deserve you in my life?” He squeezed me back, kissing my temple.
“I was wondering the same thing myself,” his grandfather piped up.
“Grandpa!” He sounded so scandalized I had to bury my face in his shirt to muffle my giggles. He goosed me, making me shriek. “Alright, you—I thought you were supposed to have my back.”
“I do have your back, but that was funny.”
“Was not.”
“Not even a little?” I tilted my head.
“Okay, maybe a little.” We heard a horn outside. “I guess that’s my cue to walk you out.”
“Sorry things got so out of hand during your big announcement,” his grandfather offered, patting my shoulder. “I’m sure I speak for everyone, though, when I say we’re pleased to have you joining the family.”
“Thanks.” I forced a smile as guilt stabbed through me like a pitchfork. “I’m glad to be joining the family, too.”
I waved as I climbed into the back of the four-door Chevy Cruze and headed back toward campus.
Chapter Thirteen
Geoff
∞∞∞
Grandpa re-entered the room, “Can I finish what I was saying before that sweet girl decided to leave right in the middle of it?”
I contorted my mouth into a smile or tried to. It felt a little lopsided to be honest. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Grandpa.”
“Yes, I do—now sit down and listen. Show some respect to the patriarch of your family.”
I sighed and dropped onto the couch. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“Good—now, as I was saying…your father and I were at the country club the other day…” his cheeks and ears became rosy, “and I saw you come into the bar and sit a few feet away from us.”
I picked my jaw up off the floor, “You did?”
“Yeah—I knew you didn’t see us because you didn’t come join us, and since Frank’s back was toward the door, I knew he didn’t see you either.”
“So…you’re saying you said all that stuff on purpose?”
“I am—wait…you heard me?”
“Yes, I did, and you put me in a bad spot, you know.” I tried to glare at him.
“How so?” He blinked at me, wide-eyed. “I figured I was gonna be doing you a favor.”
“Yeah, well—the guy that was with me that day?”
“You mean Pinocchio?”
“Yeah,” I laughed out loud, “I guess that’s a good name for him. He has a big mouth and a competitive streak a mile wide. He spread your words all over town, hoping I wouldn’t be able to get a single date—hoping I’d lose.”
“Well, it must not have worked. You and that Palomas girl are engaged…or was that a lie?”
I shrugged and smirked. “She’s helping me get around Dad for now, but if I have my way, our marriage will be for real before it’s all said and done.”
“Attaboy! Why you complaining, then?”
“Why am I—Grandpa, every female in Caddo and Bossier Parish, or so it seems, single and married, have been chasing after me like I’m a tasty treat.”
“Can’t blame them for trying, son. You’re a fine-looking young man in the prime of your life. You come from good stock. You’re college educated—and you’re fixing to inherit over a billion dollars! A woman would be crazy not to at least try to bag you.”
I dropped back against the backrest. “D
oesn’t mean I gotta like it.”
“Hell, I would!”
“I bet you would.” Taking a deep breath, I changed the subject. “I heard what Dad said about Mom not having any more of her money left. Does she know?”
He winced. “No, and—”
“She does, now.”
Both our heads jerked toward the stairs.
“Now, Vera, don’t you start fretting. You know I won’t let you and that man of yours do without,” Grandpa told her, getting to his feet.
“And that goes double for me,” I added. “Dad was right. I don’t need a billion dollars at my age. I can give you a chunk of it and still never want for anything a day in my life.”
“Your daddy was wrong,” she corrected me, quickly traversing the stairs. “That’s your money. Momma set it aside for you—and she did the same for me and your father, and made sure Daddy would have plenty left over, as well. It’s not your fault that your father is lousy with financial matters. That money should be passed down to your children, and to their children, so on and so forth, for as long as it lasts. Don’t worry about us. I have a little set back—enough to last us as long as your father doesn’t get money crazy again.”
“No need to. I’ll be happy to share, sweet pea,” her father stated. “I have way more than I need and part of it’ll be yours eventually, anyway. May as well give you some of it now.”
“Uh uh,” she shook her head. “If he knows about it, he’ll just be tempted to blow it—”
“No, he won’t.”
“How do you figure? He’s my husband. I think—”
He cut her off, “I have a sneaking suspicion that this heart attack is gonna act as a wakeup call for Frank. He damn near died—that’ll wake anyone up.” He shrugged, “I could be wrong, but I doubt it. Time will tell, though—and if I am, we’ll deal with it if we have to.”
She shook her head, knowing better than to keep arguing, and turned to me with a glint in her eye that warned me to be on my guard. “Did I hear you right, just now? You’re just using that little girl to get your hands on your inheritance? I am so ashamed of you—”