by Rachel Lee
His head lifted. “Too attached?” Then he frowned. “Do you want her to leave you alone?” He clearly didn’t really like that.
“No. No! Not at all.”
“Then what?” He looked like a man ready to fight, and she shifted uneasily.
“I like Regina bunches. I love having her around. That’s not the problem. But she said something...”
“Go on,” he pressed, his voice level.
“She said if you went back to touring she could stay here with me.”
“And you’re not a nanny.”
“I didn’t say that.” Were they going to have another fight? “I didn’t know what to say to her because I’m not in control of this situation. I can’t make promises. What if you decide you don’t need me in six months? That’s what worries me. That she’ll get attached to me, you’ll move on and she won’t want to leave me behind and then what? You’re stuck with me for the next eight years?”
His expression changed ever so slightly, but the anger was gone. Quietly he said, “I wouldn’t call it being stuck with you.”
“I just don’t want her to get hurt. So I reminded her I’m just the housekeeper, and things could change.”
Surprisingly, one corner of his mouth lifted. “To which she answered?”
“That she could change your mind.”
A laugh burst out of him then. “Little minx. She probably could. But that doesn’t take into account your wishes. I guess I need to speak to her. You want to go to college eventually. Kind of hard to do that and stay here watching her.”
Well, that was a message writ large enough to read. Whether he wanted her around or not, he expected her to leave eventually. Two-way street there, she thought, not for the first time.
She tried not to let gloom settle over her. After all, nothing was fixed, nothing was set. Things would change, they always did. But she was a little surprised to realize that leaving Rory and Regina was only going to get harder, and when she thought about it right now, it seemed hard enough. Maybe she should be smart and bail right away.
But that idea nearly killed her. She couldn’t just pack up in the morning and walk away. She’d cried her eyes out already after she quit this job. And she remembered the great happiness she had felt being asked to aid Regina with her song, being asked to teach her to cook. Mostly she remembered spending last night chastely in Rory’s arms and feeling safe.
How could he do that, make her feel so safe? She’d only seen him here, in this environment. For all she knew he could be a real-life heartbreaker despite what he said about his epiphany. But then she thought of how he cared about his daughter, and she believed he would always do what was best for Regina.
She could trust that in him. Maybe she could trust him even further. But how could she be sure? Porter had lied to her for a long time. Of course, Rory had no reason to lie to her. She was just the hired help.
And a one-night stand, evidently, but she didn’t wish that undone. He’d made her feel beautiful and desirable for the first time in ages, maybe more than she’d ever felt before.
Just leave it there, she warned herself. Leave it alone. She was happy enough for now. And as she’d learned, the future brought what it would, good and bad alike.
Chapter Eight
Rory helped her clean up the dishes and put leftover pizza away, even though she protested that she was getting paid to do it.
He laughed it off. “I was raised better, I’m not helpless and anyway, you went above and beyond by agreeing to sing on Regina’s song.”
She stood with a dish towel in hand. “Why did you insist on that?”
He shrugged his shoulder. “I wanted her to feel that it was a professional kind of recording. Special. Because it was.”
What a thoughtful man. She hadn’t even considered that. “Are you going back to your studio now?”
He glanced up in the direction of Regina’s room. “I don’t think so. Mind if I play in here?”
“Hey, whose house is it?”
He laughed again. “You’re making it yours, too. Besides, there’s this thing called courtesy.”
She smiled back at him. “I’ll bring the coffee. Assuming you don’t mind me hanging out. If you do, I’ll go back to my rooms.”
“I don’t mind. Hang out any time. You’re not a problem.”
She carried coffee into the living room and offered him a mug. He set it on the table nearby and went back to playing quietly, something she’d never heard before. She settled into one of the armchairs. “You’re worried about her,” she said.
He glanced at her. “Mildly. She’s had stomach bugs before and survived. It’s probably nothing, but a parent worries a bit anyway, especially when they turn up their nose at a pizza like that.”
She wasn’t overly familiar with kids, but she guessed he had a point. “I’ll go look in on her. You keep playing.”
She ran up the stairs, but quietly, and entered Regina’s room. The bedside lamp was on, a book had fallen to the floor and the girl slept peacefully. Abby didn’t want to disturb her, but took the risk anyway, touching her forehead and cheek lightly. Regina murmured but didn’t move.
Back downstairs she told Rory everything appeared all right. “She’s sound asleep, a little warm, but that might be from the blankets. She didn’t feel hot.”
“Thanks. I’ll check her a little later.”
“She said her mother was going to ship her things.”
He stopped playing. “You noticed that omission, too? Yeah, I’ve been wondering. I hired someone to pack her room. That stuff should have been here a while ago.”
Abby didn’t even bother to ask aloud why Stella would have stopped the shipment. All part and parcel of this war, she guessed. Some people could be so cruel. Porter and Stella. Maybe they would make a pair.
Rory resumed playing, a new melody. Sometimes he hummed along with it, once again seeming to be reaching for something. Rally appeared, coming to sit beside the piano. Then the funniest thing happened. When Rory started humming with the music, the dog put back his head and howled. Rory stopped, the dog stopped and then as soon as he started again, the dog howled, too.
Rory stopped playing. “When did you turn musical, boy?”
Rally grinned and wagged his tail in answer.
“You silly dog,” said the man, and the next thing Abby knew, the two of them were rolling on the floor together, sort of wrestling and just generally having fun together. Each time Rory stopped, the dog leaped up, then gave a play bow, with wagging tail. He was rewarded with rough-and-tumble kneading and more wrestling, until finally Rory sat up, laughing quietly.
“Uncle,” Rory said. “You wore me out. Now tell me how I’m going to write music with you around?”
Rally simply panted and wagged his tail harder.
“I guess you’ve been missing your runs with Regina,” he said, petting the dog. “Pent-up energy. Come on, I’ll take you out.”
Rory didn’t come back for a while, and Abby presumed he was giving the dog a good workout. Finally she decided it was getting late enough to head to bed.
As she passed the foot of the stairs, she heard a cry.
Regina! She raced upstairs and found the girl curled on her side in the bed. She flipped on the overhead light.
“What’s wrong?”
“Something inside me popped. It hurts!”
“Where?” Abby asked as she pulled down the blankets. Regina’s hand drifted to her lower abdomen.
Then she went to press her hand to Regina’s forehead. It was hot, but she noticed something far more worrying. The girl was as white as paste.
&n
bsp; “Stay here, I’m getting your dad.”
* * *
Rory hit hyperdrive when he heard Abby calling him. There was no mistaking the urgency of her cry. He’d taken Rally for a long run but was nearly back and he covered the last few hundred yards at a speed that risked his neck, given the slippery snow and ice on the ground.
“What?” he demanded as he pounded the last few feet on the way to the porch.
“Regina. Something’s seriously wrong.”
He didn’t care that he carried snow on his boots into the house. At least he didn’t skid because of the grip on the soles of his hiking boots. He went up the stairs in record time and found his daughter sitting on the edge of her bed.
“Regina?”
“Something popped down here,” she said and pointed. “It doesn’t hurt as bad now.”
But one look at her face told him this was nothing to be dismissed.
“She’s gray,” Abby said from behind him.
“Yeah. Sweetie, we’re going to the hospital. Let me wrap you in blankets.”
“I can walk.”
Rory hesitated, then decided she could make it down the stairs more safely if he helped her than if he carried her.
Half bent over, Regina pushed her feet into her slippers. Rory grabbed her comforter and passed it to Abby. Then, holding on to the girl tightly so she wouldn’t fall, he guided her down the stairs. His heart was thudding, and worry goaded him almost to madness. If anything happened to Regina...
He got his daughter to a chair near the front door. “Stay with her,” he asked Abby. “I’m bringing the truck around.”
Abby looked back at him from eyes filled with worry.
Wondering what he might meet on the roads, wondering if he should call the air ambulance instead, he did wild calculations in his head.
He was three steps off the porch when he turned around and went back in. Abby looked at him in astonishment.
“This can’t wait,” he said, and grabbed the phone. He dialed emergency and told them the situation. An understanding woman promised the helicopter would be there in a few minutes, assured him he’d made the right decision.
“The roads are still iced in places,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to go into a ditch.”
“No,” he agreed, watching Regina. “Is there anything I should do? She looks so pale.”
“Get her to lie down if she can. Take her temperature. If it’s over 104, try an ice pack on her neck. We’ll be there in fifteen, twenty minutes outside.”
Rory hung up. “Thermometer?” he asked. This was his own damn house and he didn’t know if he had a thermometer. God, he’d never felt so helpless.
“I have one,” said Abby. She disappeared down the hallway at a run and returned in about thirty seconds flat with a digital thermometer. Rory was already encouraging Regina to lie on the couch.
“Dad, it’s not that bad.”
“Please, honey.” He’d never seen anyone look as gray as his daughter did right then. All the color was gone, and her eyes were glassy.
She stood, but still bent over at the middle and he guided her to the couch. “Really, it doesn’t hurt quite as bad as when it popped.”
Somehow that didn’t reassure him. Once Regina was lying on her side, he took the thermometer from Abby and said, “Under the tongue. You remember.”
He glanced at Abby who looked almost as pale as his daughter. “How long?”
“It’s fast. Just a minute.”
He waited impatiently, his gaze fixed on his daughter. His heart throbbed with fear and impatience. His ears strained for the sound of rotors. Holding her hand gently, he stroked her hair.
She spoke when he pulled the thermometer from her mouth. “I’ll be okay, Dad. It’s probably nothing.”
He doubted it, but felt a surge of relief when he read the numbers on the display. “One-oh-one. Of course you’re going to be okay. The doctors will make sure of it.”
“Yeah, well, I want a pony for this,” she said.
Rory managed a smile. “We’ll talk about that when you’re not holding a sword over my head.” He didn’t miss how weak Regina’s answering smile was. Her eyes closed.
“Regina, stay with me. Please.”
She opened her eyes. “I’m really tired. It hurts.”
“I know, sweetie.” Bending closer he kissed her forehead, hating the heat he felt there. “But you can sleep when the helicopter gets here.”
“Helicopter? Cool...” Then she groaned.
“Is it getting worse?”
“Just a little.”
Rory could barely stand it. He wanted to rage at the heavens, shake his fist at empty air. His little girl was sick and he squatted here, unable to do a damn thing for her.
A soft hand gripped his shoulder. Abby. He glanced up and read the worry there again. She was feeling it, too. Reaching up his free hand, he covered Abby’s with it, while still hanging on to Regina.
“They’ll be here any minute,” she said. He was sure she meant to be reassuring, but he heard a prayer instead. He had prayers of his own running around inside his head, broken, incoherent slices. But he didn’t want to scare Regina, so he forced a superficial calm on himself.
An eternity later, he heard the unmistakable sound of helicopter rotors.
“I’ll go out front and meet them,” Abby said.
“Thanks.” He squeezed Regina’s hand and her eyes opened. “Your ride’s almost here,” he said cheerfully. “You don’t want to miss this.”
“No...” But no weak smile answered him this time. With each moment, he felt his daughter slipping away.
* * *
Abby watched as the EMTs loaded Regina into the chopper. They made room for Rory, too, and her last view was of a man who looked nearly as pale as his daughter.
She knew she couldn’t go with them. She wasn’t family. Then there was the dog. He’d changed from the happy overgrown puppy who’d been wrestling with Rory to a seriously worried animal who was pacing restlessly and whining from time to time. She wondered how much he knew.
Having nothing else to do, she filled his water bowl and waited. Rally hunkered close to her, as if seeking comfort, and she kept one hand on his neck, massaging him as she held the phone in her other hand.
Time crept by so slowly it seemed almost not to move at all. She knew what hell was then. She thought Porter had taught her, but now she knew that man, all that pain, didn’t come close to what she feared and felt right now.
Rory had promised to call as soon as he knew something, but that might be hours. She could only grip the phone and the dog, and cling. Regina was young, healthy. Whatever this was, she’d recover. They’d figure it out. She had to believe that.
But she kept hearing the girl say, “Something popped.” Popped hard enough to make her shriek. That was no gas bubble. Worse, she’d been feeling off since this morning. Whatever had caused that pain had been working on her to the point she hadn’t even been able to eat more than a bite of the pizza she was so proud of.
Not good. Not good at all.
Rally laid his huge head on her knee. She hardly noticed and didn’t care when he drooled on her jeans. “Poor boy,” she said. Poor everyone.
Anxiety crawled through her until she wanted to scream or climb out of her own skin. What was taking so long?
But she knew. The flight, the hospital admission, testing...it could take hours. She didn’t know if she could survive hours.
It was nearly eleven, and she looked down at the dog wondering if he could make it the night. Well, of course he could, but he clearly knew something was wrong. How could she leave him? But how could she just sit here worrying about Regina and Rory?
Torn, she made her way through some more minutes. Not family, s
he reminded herself. She’d be useless at the hospital. They probably wouldn’t even let her see Regina.
When the phone finally rang, she was so tense she jumped. Rally stood, his tail wagging just a bit, as if he knew this was important.
She punched the button and moments later Rory’s tense voice poured into her ear. “God, she’s sick, Abby. They’re not sure yet, but she’s getting worse fast.”
Abby’s heart slammed and she sucked desperately for air as the nightmare closed in. “They don’t know?” she repeated.
“Not yet. They’ve taken her for some kind of scan. I called Stella, to let her know.”
Abby’s stomach sank. “Is she coming?”
“Are you kidding? She says it’ll all be over before she can get here, so she’ll wait to hear.”
“Did...do... Does anyone want her?” It sounded crass even in the midst of her growing terror. Rory didn’t seem to care.
“Regina hasn’t asked for her. And no, I don’t want Stella. I just can’t believe...” He paused. “Guess I’m not making sense. She ought to want to be here. She doesn’t. End of subject.”
“I want to be there,” Abby said. “I want desperately to be there. Can I come?”
“If you think you can handle it. Regina’s really sick, and she’s in and out. I don’t know how much of it is the morphine and how much is...” His voice cracked. “If you come be careful on the road. I couldn’t handle it if you...”
“I get it,” she said. She could tell how hard it was for him to think about anything except his daughter. “Will Rally be okay?” She really wasn’t sure about that.
“Give him Regina’s blanket. He’ll hold till morning.”
Indeed, as soon as she put the blanket on the floor, Rally curled up on it. Regina’s scent. She made sure he had plenty of water and some food, quickly changed into fresh jeans and a heavy sweater, then set out into the frigid, dark night.
The roads were bad, slick with ice in places. She forced herself to ignore her heart’s urgings and drive carefully. It was only fifteen miles to town, but it didn’t surprise her that the distance seemed to have grown. Why not? Minutes were now lasting hours, it seemed.