by Zee Monodee
Ange shrugged. “He could be divorced, or widowed. Come on, this means he’s already family material.”
Could the girl really be so obtuse? “And since when is that a prime concern?”
Ange rolled her eyes. “Come on, Dee. You know as well as I do that being family-oriented is a mighty advantage where men are concerned. And that’s a prominent feature on your list, too. So, is he handsome?”
“No! He isn’t.” Somehow, she’d replied too quickly, but surely, it didn’t mean much, did it? “And, he drives a Snob.”
Ange moved to the front of her seat, bending towards Diya. “All the better. A Saab. He must be rich, honey.”
That, he was, judging by his clothing alone. Still, Diya grimaced. “Thanks, but no thanks. Cavemen have never really tickled my fancy.”
Ange laughed. “Come on. There must be some good going for him. Maybe he’s a good father.”
“It’s probably the only thing he’s good at.”
Chapter Five
Diya slowed the Ranger at the gate of her apartment complex, waiting for the security guard to open the door. Half past midnight. Quite early, in fact, for her to be home on a Sunday night, especially back from the club in Rivière Noire, another next-door coastal village and western hotspot.
She’d gone there in the hopes that chilling and dancing the night away would help ease some of the stress they’d been living under since they’d bagged the Palm Palace deal. But she’d called it a night after bumping first into Krish, then two more of her ex-boyfriends.
To be honest, she’d grown used to having an ex tagging behind her like a forlorn puppy, and she’d been lucky none had done something ugly and dirty like spread rumours about her after the—she had to admit—rather callous way she’d ditched them. She had her reasons for that repeated behaviour, though. Valid ones. Still, tonight, dodging more than one ex had resembled a game of cat and mouse on the dance floor. Evading their stalking tactics had drained the little energy left in her.
Damn Trent Garrison. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be so knackered. She’d have been working in the comfort of her flat, not needing to be in the office from dawn ’til dusk and crashing in one of Ange’s guest rooms every so often. Ange’s mother was starting to think Diya had moved in, for goodness’ sake.
Dancing the night away should’ve helped with that, but no, she’d even been denied of that tonight. Oh, well, she reckoned as she let herself into her home. A few more hours of sleep wouldn’t do her any harm. Especially considering she was joining Gareth for a brunch meeting.
Handsome Gareth. They hadn’t met since their initial first contact, though they’d had some brief telephone exchanges, with him expected to be back from Johannesburg this Monday.
Today, actually. The realization startled her.
What a workaholic he was, heading straight to his workplace from the airport. Exactly the kind of man she’d always imagined would be the perfect fit for her. He, too, could understand the constraints a demanding job could put on one’s shoulders.
The bed beckoned her, and the weariness she’d been carrying for the past week crashed on her like one of the anvils in the Wile E. Coyote cartoons. Discarding her Lycra-blend skirt and the Spandex top that had rubbed her skin to a sensitive state of heated discomfort, she pulled on her long, cotton Barbie nightshirt. No lacy, sexy silk nightdress for tonight. She chuckled. As if someone gave a shoot about what she wore to bed. She could just as well sleep in the nude, and even that wouldn’t rock any man’s world.
After scrubbing the caked makeup on her face with a konjac sponge and warm water, she fell into bed.
She’d finally dozed off when the sound of her doorbell chime filtered through her hazy mind. Groggy and disoriented, she sat up in bed.
Staccato raps on the wood panel accompanied the shrill rings. Goodness gracious, who could be knocking down her door at just past one in the morning? A dull pounding built along her skull and behind her eyeballs. Sudden, loud noises brought on a horrifying headache when she awoke abruptly to such sounds. Stifling a curse, she climbed out of bed and traipsed barefoot to the front door.
One glimpse through the peephole, though, and shock shook all other notions away. She yanked the door open.
Trent stood in the lobby. His haggard face sported a rough growth of stubble, his eyes red and rimmed by dark circles. He appeared scrambled together in a pair of wrinkled trousers, and he’d missed a few buttons when he’d done his shirt up. The way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other conveyed his nervousness all while he glanced back and forth between her door and his.
What was he doing on her doorstep at this time of the night? And thank goodness she hadn’t worn any sexy nightdress.
But she doubted he’d have noticed. Something was off.
“What’s wrong?”
He snapped out of his spell, as if he hadn’t realised she stood before him. He blinked a few times, his forehead creasing in a frown when he seemed to take in her appearance.
“Thank God you’re here.” Relief and a strange desperation hung heavy in his tone.
“What’s the matter?”
His words came out in a rush. “I didn’t know who to turn to. You’re the only person I could think of. Tell me you can help, or point me in the right direction.”
He ran a hand in his hair as he spoke, and she struggled to make any sense of his words.
“Trent, what’s going on?” she asked more firmly this time.
The sound of his name must’ve caught his attention, because he focused his eyes on her and blinked.
He slowed his words when he next spoke. “Matthew’s sick. His asthma’s picked up, and it’s getting worse. Do you know any doctors around here? Or a hospital I might take him to?”
His broad frame shook with every word, and she reached out and put her hand on his arm. The contact seemed to calm his jerky movements. He was too shaken, and thus, not up to handling the crisis in the best of ways. She had to take matters in her hands.
“Go get the kids. I’ll take you to the clinic.”
His face blanked, and he shook his head. “I’ll take him—”
“Trent, you’re in no state to drive right now. Matthew needs you. And you don’t know the roads here well enough, let alone how to get to the clinic in the least amount of time. I’ll call the doctor, and he’ll be waiting for us.”
His shoulders slumped, and impatience got the better of her as he remained there like a great big log.
She braced her hands on his upper arms, as far as her small frame would allow her, and tried to push him. “Get a move on. I’ll take care of everything. Just get the kids to my car. We’ll take the truck. It’s safer at night.”
She marched him to his front door. Would she also need to slap him to zap him out of his shock? But then, an image of Matthew flew before her eyes. How did a parent watch his child be sick and not have his heart ripped out at every second of viewing this agony?
“Get the children. I’ll be down in five minutes,” she said as she peered straight in his eyes. “Does Matthew take any medicine? Maybe inhalers?”
“Ventolin spray. But the recommended dosage isn’t working this time.”
As he moved into his place, she rushed back into her flat. She speed-dialled a number and propped the receiver between her ear and her shoulder while she tugged on a pair of jeans. The man she was calling answered on the third ring.
“Eric, it’s Dee. Sorry. My neighbour’s kid is sick. Asthma. Can you meet us at the clinic? His Ventolin spray’s no longer doing its job.”
Eric agreed to meet with them in thirty minutes, the time needed for him to reach the clinic.
Discarding the Barbie nightshirt, she pulled on a bra and plain white jersey top and secured her twisted-up hair with a crab barrette. Snatching her keys and her handbag on the kitchen counter on the way out, she then tugged on a pair of ballerina flats. After closing the front door, she dashed down the emergency stairs.
> Trent waited by the truck with the children. He held Matthew in his arms and cradled the boy when a fit of coughing overtook him. Josh stood by their side with a dazed expression, for all intent still half-asleep. The sound of wheezing, laboured breaths tore at her insides, and she took a deep inhale to quell the reaction.
She unlocked the doors. Trent climbed into the backseat with Matthew in his lap, and Diya secured Josh with the seat belt.
The roads stretched empty at this time of night, and she pressed on the accelerator, the lights switched on to full beam. Throughout the trip inland, she didn’t allow her attention to veer from the road, hoping against hope no policemen were hiding along the roads with a speed trap waiting.
A fit of coughing resounded, and she peeked in the rear-view mirror. Matthew had increasing trouble breathing, the sound of his rasping breath and strangled coughs filling the interior of the car.
“Come on, Matt. It’s gonna be okay.”
Trent’s voice came out level and confident, but uncertainty and despair quivered in his tone.
Snaking an arm between the front seats, she clasped Matthew’s hand. “Come on, honey. Breathe. You need to breathe. Take it deep in your belly. Go slow. Breathe.”
Trent caught her gaze with his in the mirror as the boy tried to take in a deep breath, but ended up coughing.
“It won’t do,” he said.
His tone wasn’t harsh, but laced with desperation.
“My sister’s had asthma ever since she was little. This is what our father would get her to do when an attack came in.”
Matthew tried taking another breath, and this time, the air didn’t catch in his throat. His breathing picked up, and he gulped in huge amounts of air.
“Steady, sweetheart, go slowly. Breathe deep. That’s it,” she said as he found a rhythm.
In the following minutes, both adults tried to get the boy to maintain the pace.
“You’re doing great, Matthew. We’re nearly at the clinic now,” Diya said. “Josh, sweetie, you okay?”
A small “yes” escaped the little boy’s mouth.
She slammed on the brakes in the clinic’s entrance and ushered Trent out as she caught sight of a big, silver SUV entering the parking lot.
“The doctor’s coming. Go in. I’ll bring Josh with me after I’ve found a parking space. Go.”
*
“Go!”
Awareness flooded Trent’s body as Diya’s last word echoed in his mind. Energy fired up every synapse, and he jumped.
With a quick glance at his youngest son, he unlatched the door and stepped out of the vehicle. The clinic’s wide glass doors lay open a few feet away, and he rushed in with Matthew in his arms.
A nurse ran towards them. “Mr. Garrison?”
He nodded.
“The emergency room is this way,” she said as she led him down a wide lobby and into a side corridor.
He deposited Matthew on a bed and stepped back a few paces as the nurse settled an oxygen mask on the boy’s face. A tall man brushed past him and started calling out orders.
“I’m Dr. Marivaux,” he said in a calm voice as he addressed Trent. “We’ll take care of him now.”
Another nurse came forward.
“Sir, your son is in good hands now. Don’t worry, the doctor will take care of him. I’ll show you to the waiting room,” she said in a gentle tone.
Trent darted another glance at Matthew and allowed himself to be led to the same lobby they’d entered through, where he dropped on a comfortable, overstuffed sofa.
“Can I get you a coffee?” the nurse asked.
He lifted his head and squinted at her without really seeing her. He shook his head in reply and then lowered his focus onto the floor again.
The image of his boy on the big hospital bed remained engraved in his mind. Matthew had seemed so fragile and small as he struggled and laboured for every breath.
Pain clutched his heart and brought a thick lump in his throat. Uselessness twisted his gut and made him flinch. There could be nothing worse for him than seeing his children suffering. Knowing he wasn’t able to do anything to ease any of that distress drove a nail further into the coffin.
A small pair of hands settled on his knee, and he glanced up at Josh standing before him. He reached out and hugged the little boy, clutching the small body to his own. Tears stung his eyes when he imagined what he’d do with his life if he didn’t have his kids.
A soft pressure settled on his shoulder, and he loosened his grip on Josh to glance up.
Trent blinked when he found Diya right next to him. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“What’s going on in there?” she asked.
“He’s with the doctor.”
She nodded. “He’s a very good doctor. The best, actually.”
He didn’t know what to reply. His mind had become a jumble of thoughts and worry, all rationale suspended as he waited for news of Matthew.
“Thanks,” he finally said.
She shrugged and gave him a small smile as she settled on the sofa next to him.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asked Josh.
The little boy shook his head as tears gathered in his eyes. She reached for him and drew him into her lap.
“Matt’s gonna be fine, darling. There’s no need to cry.” Her voice sounded low and soothing.
Josh started crying, and she wrapped her arms around him. In between ragged sobs, Josh managed a few words.
“I threw thand on him, thath why he can’t breathe now. He’th not thupposed to be around any dutht.”
“Sweetie, it’s not your fault. Come on, he’ll be fine very soon.”
Josh hid his face in her shoulder.
Gently, Trent ruffled the boy’s hair. “Diya’s right. It’s not your fault.”
The sobs receded, and Josh hugged her back. When he broke free, she settled him on the sofa between them.
A figure appeared in the doorway, and both adults stood up when the doctor walked into the room.
“How is he?” Trent asked.
“He’s breathing a lot better now,” the doctor replied. “It’s a bad cold, and could be a virus seeing as the seasons are changing right now. You brought him in time before it became full-blown bronchitis. I’ve prescribed him a course of antibiotics, anyhow, as we cannot afford to wait for the results of the culture to know if it’s a virus or not. We cannot risk any complications with his asthma.”
Weariness and deep relief washed over Trent. Matthew will be fine. He held out his hand. “Thank you so much, doctor.”
“It’s okay,” the other man said as he clasped the outstretched hand. “The nurses are nebulising him. As soon as they’re done, you can take him home. I’ll ask you to bring him back in two days, so I can check on him again. He shouldn’t get any worse, but if he does in that time, call me immediately and bring him in.”
“Thank you.”
The man nodded before he excused himself, asking to take their leave.
Trent stepped back to the sofa he’d vacated and plopped down like dead weight. Josh snuggled up to him, and he put his arm around the boy.
“Eric, can I have a word with you?” Diya asked as she stepped closer to the doctor.
“Of course. What’s the matter?”
He vaguely heard the exchange as he realized what Diya had done for them. He’d been a mess when he’d seen Matthew sick, and had it not been for her cool competence, he didn’t know in what state Matthew would be in now. He glanced to where she stood with the doctor, in a corner of the waiting area a few feet from him.
How pale she appeared. He squinted. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, granted, yet her skin seemed colourless, without the usual healthy glow.
A fist hit him in the stomach when he grasped the reason for her pallor. She’d been as shaken as he, but she’d nevertheless striven to keep her wits about her as she coped with the situation.
She appeared even more delicate than usual in her small w
hite top and regular jeans. Strands of hair had loosened from the pile on her head and framed her dainty face. Without the guise of makeup, she looked terribly young, and vulnerable.
She lowered her head, and the doctor took a step closer to her. He settled a big hand on her shoulder as he peered into her face, apparently to ask her something. She mouthed “no” and shivered.
A sinking feeling poured into Trent’s gut as the other man reached out and hugged her. She settled her face on his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist.
Questions erupted in his mind. What was going on between them? How come they were so close that he’d hold her so intimately? Was he her boyfriend?
For the first time, Trent really took in the doctor who’d taken care of his son. The man stood tall and athletic, with a strong and broad figure. His features were handsome and distinguished, his blond hair, a little long for a medical man, curling over the collar of his polo shirt.
A metallic glint caught Trent’s attention. The gold band on the doctor’s left third finger.
Was Diya having an affair with a married man?
Sparks flew before his eyes, and he wanted to grasp her tight and ask her if that was the case.
A cold grip closed on his senses, and he blinked. What business of his was it what she did with her life? The emotions of the night had probably taken their toll on him. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything for Diya. No strong feeling at all, except gratitude for what she’d done.
Then why did he want to shake her and the Prince-Charming-lookalike doctor into explaining themselves?
Diya broke way and peered up at the man, engrossed in their conversation, and the doctor glanced their way before giving her his attention again. The two of them then walked to where he sat with Josh.
The doctor squatted in front of Josh.
“Hi,” he said. “My name’s Eric. And you are?”
Josh’s eyes lit up, and he peered at his father to ask for permission to answer. Trent nodded.
“I’m Josh.”
“Okay, Josh. I have a very special job I need to give you. Are you up to it?”
The little boy nodded with enthusiasm.
“I’ll need you to take care of your brother for me. I’ll tell you a secret,” the man said as he lowered his voice. “I’ve told your daddy to watch over Matthew, but sometimes, grown-ups don’t notice little things. I need you to be on the lookout for any time Matthew may not appear too well. Deal?”