Beth would make Aidan accept that they belonged together, even if she had to beg him until she lost her voice. This was not the act of a weak and desperate young woman. Taking a proactive stance exhibited strength and courage. She would not allow Mr. Mertz’s evil to destroy their relationship—something so pure, so real, amongst his immoral, illusory world.
The shrill cry of the telephone blasted throughout the house. Her father grumbled about it being too late for calls as he left his bedroom and walked downstairs. Beth placed the album aside and followed him into the living room. He tightened the belt on his flannel robe and lifted the receiver.
“Hello.” His eyebrows knitted together. “No, I—” He sighed. “Well, all right. I’ll accept the long distance charges.”
Beth rushed to her father’s side.
“Yes, this is John Bates. Who’s this?” He directed his puzzled gaze at Beth. “One moment.”
Beth grabbed the receiver from her father, forgoing the ladylike manners she was taught as a child. “Aidan? Aidan, is that you?”
“Beth, it’s Nathan calling from Los Angeles.”
A stitch of disappointment surfaced in her chest. At the same time, she was glad he’d called. “Nathan, it’s lovely to hear from you. Have you spoken to Olivia in Portland?”
“She’s in Portland?” The sudden hopefulness in his tone didn’t last. “No, we haven’t spoken.”
“I’ll give you her parents’ telephone number—”
“Beth—”
“Don’t worry. Once you two talk, everything will be all right.”
Nathan cleared his throat. “Beth, are you sitting down?”
The color drained from her face. “No, why?”
“Perhaps you should—”
“Nathan, what is it? Tell me.” She gripped the receiver tighter.
“Beth…it’s Aidan.” Nathan’s voice shook. “There’s been an accident. He’s…he’s…”
“No. Please, no!” Beth’s knees buckled and she dropped the receiver. Her father caught her before she fell to the floor.
“What’s going on?” Her mother rushed downstairs. “Marie! John! What’s wrong?”
It was as if Beth was watching a movie and the projector went haywire. Her surroundings spun, blurred. No longer did she stand on an even plane–like the universe had shifted and split wide open, determined to suck her into a black hole of grief and despair.
Wails, fraught and high pitched, like dialogue on fast-forward, burrowed into her brain. It was the most awful sound.
“Marie!” Mrs. Bates peered at her husband with wild, wet eyes. “John, help her!”
“Marie, stop it!” Her father shook her madly. “Get a hold of yourself this instant and tell us what’s the matter!”
Tears poured down Beth’s face. Her throat burned and her stomach roiled, threatening to expel its contents. Oh, God. The wailing…it was coming from her.
“I’m getting to the bottom of this right now.” Her father handed her over to her mother and picked up the dangling receiver. By the time he finished questioning Nathan and hung up, his complexion was ashen, his gaze detained by devastation.
Locked in her mother’s embrace, Beth cried until she was unable to catch her breath. No, it couldn’t be. Her father could fix anything. She’d turned to him in her youth whenever she needed help, and he’d never let her down. He could fix this, too. He had to.
“Papa, please!” She stumbled over to him and latched on to his housecoat. “I love Aidan, Papa. Please do something. I love him!”
Her father yanked her close. As his arms came around her, a sob rattled his sturdy form. “There’s nothing that can be done, Marie. I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.”
Chapter Fourteen
Had the Golden Gloves company made it to Chicago to complete the film, Beth would have loved it here. The Neo-Gothic and High Renaissance churches, quaint residential streets, and Art Deco skyscrapers were an eclectic mix of enchantment and mystery. The sophistication of the metropolis’s neighborhoods resonated from every city block, and the harbor provided awe-inspiring views of the sun’s rays skipping across Lake Michigan. Unfortunately, the circumstances under which she and Olivia made their trip cast a shadow over everything.
As their taxicab drove through downtown, Beth’s heart squeezed. The overnight airplane ride from Portland was spent much the same way as her voyage now—grieving to the point of numbness and exhaustion, transforming her from the woman with newfound positivity she all-too-briefly became before receiving Nathan’s telephone call two nights ago.
After Nathan called back to provide her with her travel information, she contacted Olivia. Thankfully, her friend insisted on accompanying her. They secured transportation from the airport to the hospital without stopping by the hotel to check in and drop off their luggage. Beth didn’t want to waste any more time away from her ailing beau.
Men and women wearing chic urban attire strolled along crowded streets, past fashionable storefronts, creating a bustle of action reminiscent of New York City. Beth longed to amble through Central Park with Aidan like they did on their first date, with the suburban feel of L.A., its steady climate, and unauthentic charisma nothing but a distant memory. Sadly, those days were far behind her now. The horrors awaiting her at the hospital were her reality.
When the taxi pulled up in front of Chicago Memorial Hospital, Beth was unprepared for the group of reporters huddled near the entrance, minded by security. How did they find out Aidan was here? Nathan never would’ve alerted the press.
“This is your stop, ladies.” The driver turned toward the back seat. “That’ll be three-fifty.”
Olivia opened her purse, but Beth had already handed over the fare and tip.
The driver opened the back door and they emerged from the cab. Beth secured her sunglasses as their luggage was retrieved from the trunk. The driver didn’t seem to recognize her, but it was unlikely her anonymity would last much longer.
A brisk wind blasted down the street. She fastened the buttons on her coat and picked up her suitcase. Tears stung her eyes, breaking through her numbness. In Clarkson, she didn’t think she’d be able to face the truth of Aidan’s condition, but she had surprised herself. She had collected her remaining strength against the most disturbing circumstances, and now here she was, about to see him in person. Yes, it would be difficult, but quitting was not an option.
With a nod to Olivia, she began her trek to the hospital. The reporters recognized her immediately.
“Miss Sutton, is it true Aidan Evans is on his death bed after wrapping his Porsche around a tree?”
“Since Golden Gloves has been terminated, why was Mr. Evans in Chicago in the first place?”
“Are you here as a concerned costar or something more?”
“Can you confirm that a priest has been called in to administer the last rites to Mr. Evans?”
Beth kept her head down as security escorted her and Olivia into the hospital amongst camera flashes. Although she had been taught to always cooperate with the press, this time, she would not give them the courtesy of a response. Imagine trying to profit from someone else’s misfortune. It was sickening.
Inside, Beth and Olivia were greeted by additional security, fronted by an older man wearing a dark suit and a tight frown. There was a kindness in his eyes that didn’t seem forced.
“Miss Sutton, my name is Alfred Motts. I’m the head of security here at Chicago Memorial Hospital. Mr. Taggart informed me you’d be arriving this morning.”
A sob escaped Olivia. She brought a tissue to her mouth and bowed her head to weep. Beth placed a hand on her shoulder. Hopefully, she’d have the opportunity to thank Nathan for making all of her arrangements. She truly missed him and couldn’t conceive how Olivia felt in his absence. A deep connection existed between Nathan and Olivia that could never be severed; the engagement ring on her left hand was proof she still loved him in spite of his betrayal.
Mr. Motts motioned across the l
obby. “Please follow me. I’ll take you to Mr. Evans’ ward.”
Beth removed her sunglasses and placed them in her coat pocket as they walked toward the elevators. Saint Raphael, immortalized in stained glass, filtered in the sun, bestowing the lobby with a warm and peaceful glow.
It had been ages since Beth sought divine intervention. However, as she passed the archangel, she grasped her diamond pendant and whispered words of mercy and forgiveness. Perhaps she was unworthy of acknowledgement, having turned to prayer only in times of need, but Aidan—her dear, dear Aidan—deserved salvation.
O great prince of the heavenly court, I beg you…
On the eighth floor, they exited onto a ward modest in furnishings and void of the comforting atmosphere from downstairs.
“Please wait here. I’ll fetch the doctor.” Mr. Motts walked down the corridor, leaving Beth and Olivia standing amongst the probing stares of nurses and orderlies. When he returned, a man with salt and pepper hair, black-rimmed glasses, and a long white coat accompanied him.
“Good morning, Miss Sutton. My name is Doctor Patrick Billings.” He shook her hand. “I received Aidan Evans in the emergency room following his accident. I’m his primary care physician.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Beth offered a meek smile and gestured to her friend. “This is Olivia Weston.”
“Good morning, Ms. Weston.” Dr. Billings provided her with a handshake, too.
Mr. Motts stepped forward. “I will leave you to speak with Dr. Billings privately, Miss Sutton. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to summon me.”
Beth nodded. “Thank you.”
Mr. Motts disappeared into the nearest stairwell.
Dr. Billings’ expression looked grim. “Our conversation would be better suited in my office.” He turned to Olivia. “Ms. Weston, if you’d like to have a seat in the waiting room, I can send for you when we’re finished.”
Tears filled Beth’s eyes. “Please let her stay. I cannot bear to be separated from her.”
Sympathy flooded the physician’s gaze. “As you wish, Miss Sutton.”
Beth and Olivia followed Dr. Billings past the nurses’ station, earning them more inquisitive glances and even some whispers. Since Beth’s first and last visit to a hospital was when she sustained her superficial head injury in December, she was unfamiliar with them except from what she’d seen in motion pictures. The reality was quite different from how they were portrayed onscreen. Chicago Memorial was meant to be a place of healing, but the white walls, acrid smell of bleach, and eerie quiet on the ward reminded her of suffering and loss.
Dr. Billings motioned for them to enter his office first and then shut the door upon his entry. A diploma from the University of Chicago Medical School presided over an oak desk covered with file folders, a table lamp, and a telephone. The blinds decorating the only window in the room were closed.
Dr. Billings took a seat behind his desk after Beth and Olivia placed their suitcases on the floor and claimed the two chairs on the other side. He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat. Stalling, perhaps.
“First of all, I must say I don’t know how the press found out about Mr. Evans’ admittance. I assure you they did not hear anything from my staff. We pride ourselves on discretion here at Chicago Memorial. Hence, we have increased our security presence on the premises to fend off further unwanted intrusions.”
Beth wrung her hands. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Mr. Evans’ father, Graham Evans, is a prominent member of Chicago Memorial’s medical team.”
Beth’s eyes widened. “He is?”
Dr. Billings nodded. “Dr. Evans has been on personal leave for the past month. Since Mr. Evans’ admission, I’ve tried to reach him over the telephone, but all of my attempts have failed. I stopped by his house yesterday, but no one was home, so I left a note on the door, requesting that he call me right away. Thankfully, we were able to contact Mr. Taggart, which is why you’re here today. Nathan is a good man. He cares about Mr. Evans a lot.”
Olivia removed another tissue from her purse and patted her moist eyes.
Beth clenched her jaw, steeling herself. “Aidan…how is he?”
Dr. Billings folded his hands on the desktop. “Normally, Miss Sutton, I wouldn’t disclose personal information to anyone other than family, but Mr. Taggart says you and Mr. Evans are …close.”
All Beth could manage was a nod.
“I will be frank with you. Mr. Evans is in a coma. In a situation like this, however, a comatose state is actually best. It limits neurological activity, giving the brain a chance to rest and heal. Until he regains consciousness—that is, if he regains consciousness—it is impossible to predict how his injuries have affected his cognitive and motor abilities.”
“So you won’t know until he wakes up?” Beth chose to focus on when, not if.
“That is correct. Fortunately, Mr. Evans was wearing his seatbelt, which very well saved his life, so there is a chance he may make a full recovery. How much of a chance, though, I cannot say.”
“That’s fair, Doctor. Thank you.”
“As for Mr. Evans’ current condition, he is critical but stable. He’s breathing on his own. Therefore, no mechanical ventilation is required. We inserted an intravenous line to deliver maintenance fluids and medication directly into his bloodstream instead of relying on intramuscular or subcutaneous injections. We are also monitoring him with a cardioscope. It’s quite something, actually. It’s a new medical device, which records a patient’s heart rate and emits an alarm if it falls outside normal limits. We typically only use this machine in the operating room. However, we’ve found it helpful in Mr. Evans’ case, given the extent of his injuries.
“Aside from the swelling in his brain, Mr. Evans broke his nose and two ribs. He also has multiple lacerations and contusions—cuts and bruises—on his face and torso, which took the brunt of the impact when he skidded off the road and crashed into the tree. We cannot rule out bruising of his liver and spleen, either, although his lab work indicates no internal bleeding.”
Beth placed her hand over her heart. It all sounded so complicated, so serious. “It’s bad, isn’t it? His condition…”
Dr. Billings frowned. “This is a Catholic hospital. I’m not sure if you’re a religious woman, but considering how this could have turned out, I’d say someone is watching out for him. To have survived a motor vehicle accident this severe…well, in my opinion, he is very lucky. Please do not repeat this to anyone, though. From a medical perspective, lucky is not a term I like to use when discussing my patients.”
Beth could no longer hold back her tears. Olivia hugged her while the doctor expressed his deepest condolences, never breaking his professional poise. Her crying did not last long. She made sure of it. This was not the time for weakness. Aidan needed her. She would not sit around, playing the victim, while her beau fought for his life.
She wiped her face with a tissue Olivia gave her. “May I see Aidan, Dr. Billings?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t think that’s wise right now, Miss Sutton.”
“Please. I’ve come all this way.”
“But—”
“Look, Doctor. I’m not leaving this hospital until Aidan can accompany me, alive and well.” Beth served the physician a polite but pointed look. “So you might as well let me stay at his bedside.”
Olivia squared her shoulders. “Me, too.”
Dr. Billings stood. “As you wish, Miss Sutton.”
Beth and Olivia left the office with their belongings and followed Dr. Billings to Aidan’s room. He stopped in front of a closed door at the end of a quiet corridor.
“This is Mr. Evans’ private accommodation. I must warn you, Miss Sutton, he has a significant amount of facial swelling, so you may be startled by his appearance. Rest assured, though, we are controlling his pain with medication. Let me know when you’re ready.”
Beth tightened her grip on h
er suitcase. She wasn’t ready—she’d never be ready to face Aidan in any state of unwell. But this wasn’t about her. “Let’s go.”
Dr. Billings opened the door. Olivia’s hand flew to her mouth, and Beth gasped and dropped her luggage. Bandages, dried blood, bruises, a pale, unmoving form…
“Oh, Aidan!”
Lightheadedness struck her hard, inciting a wave of dizziness that left her struggling for breath. The room shifted off-kilter, swaying her toward the doorframe. Yellow splotches fragmented her vision—they wouldn’t disappear no matter how many times she blinked, no matter how desperate she was to remain strong for her beau. She felt herself drifting, sinking…
Dr. Billings grasped her arm and steadied her. “I’ll have Mr. Motts arrange a taxicab for you and Ms. Weston. You can see Mr. Evans another day.”
Beth screwed her eyes shut, breathing deeply to fight the threat of unconsciousness. “No, I’m not leaving. I can’t.”
“Miss Sutton, you’ve had quite a shock. You mustn’t aggravate your condition.”
The floor beneath her seemed to stop moving. She cracked open her eyelids, testing her surroundings, assessing her situation. Yes, the vertigo was gone. Her mind was clearer, set to purpose.
She stood up straight and brushed the hair from her face. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.”
Dr. Billings released her slowly, watching over her as if she was the patient. “You cannot care for Mr. Evans properly if you neglect your own health.”
“Being separated from my beau is what will hurt me the most, Doctor. This is where I belong.”
Beth walked to Aidan’s bed. Dressed in a hospital gown, he lay on his back with a blanket pulled up to his mid-torso and his hands folded at his waist. Bandages covered his forehead and nose. His face was puffy and battered. The subtle rise and fall of his chest was the only indication of life.
A rectangular device—the cardioscope, most likely—sat on a stand next to his bed. Its monochrome display revealed a green trace that looked like a bouncing ball with a comet’s tail. The intravenous line Dr. Billings spoke of was inserted into Aidan’s left hand. Below that, on his middle finger, he wore the ring she had given him for Christmas.
Stardust (The Starlight Trilogy #3) Page 14