by Diana Fraser
“Don’t, Max. Please.”
He could see Laura was close to tears. Reluctantly he let her hand slip through hers. His fingers extending at the last moment as if reluctant to lose contact.
She stepped away, bringing her arm abruptly by her side. “I’m sorry, Max. But I feel strange. I need to get out of here.”
“You mean you feel you need to get away from me.”
“No, I can’t seem to see clearly. I feel dizzy.”
She looked around as if her vision had truly been affected. “You don’t need to do this charade for me. I get it. Go. Why don’t you just go?”
“Sure. I’ll…” She turned away and stumbled down the steps and ran across the lawn, pushing her way past people, including Rachel who frowned and came up to Max.
“What’s wrong with Laura? She looked pretty distressed.”
“Sure she is. I told her that I didn’t want her to leave. I told her that I wanted to see if this thing we had could go anywhere. I asked her to stay.”
“My God, Max! I think it’s you who are under the weather.” Rachel gaped at him, then turned to see Laura disappearing along the path up to the road. Then back to him. “And she said no?”
“I’m not sure she even got that far. It seemed the thought of being with me disturbed her so much that she felt ill and she couldn’t get away fast enough.” Max turned his back on where Laura had disappeared. He didn’t need to see her absence to feel the pain.
“But that’s not like her to face up to it.”
“She faces up to everything except what’s inside her.”
“But she likes you. Anyone could see that. More than likes. Lizzi and I were thinking you guys could make a go of this, despite how it started.”
“And so did I, Rachel, so did I.”
“What did she say exactly?”
He shrugged. “What does it matter?”
“Tell me.”
“That she couldn’t see properly. That she felt peculiar.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “And you let her go?”
“She’d made it pretty plain that that’s exactly what she wanted to do.”
“Are you sure she wasn’t really feeling ill? I know you guys always like to think everything, every reaction is caused by something you’ve said or done. But, you know sometimes, it is what it is.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“She might be sick. Go, check up on her. Anyhow, she’s just walked up to the road. How do you think she’s going to get anywhere at this time of the evening? There’s no passing traffic, there’s no public transport. She’s used to having everything laid on. Go. Now. Make sure she’s okay.”
“Are you kidding me? If I go after her now I’ll be had up for harassment!”
“Go. Or I will.” She glared at him.
But it wasn’t what Rachel had said which made him move. He’d been ignoring it but somewhere he was unsettled; somewhere there was a low sound of a warning bell ringing.
He walked out the front door, glanced around the veranda and then ran down the front steps onto the front lawn which led to the woods and driveway onto the road. He walked up the potholed drive, wondering for the nth time why his father didn’t do usual fatherly things like keep the house and estate in order.
The drive was empty. He arrived at the road which was also empty. He turned around, and scratched his head. She’d vanished into thin air.
Then he heard a dog bark, followed by another. Stanley, Boo—what were they barking at? He retraced his steps. The barking was coming from the middle of the woods—equally unkempt, equally wild. He batted away some dangling creepers and stepped through the undergrowth. The barking grew louder. It was coming from the very heart of the wood. They must have cornered a rabbit or something. He’d sort them out before they disturbed the wedding party, then he’d return to the party. Laura must have returned to it round the other way.
“Stan!” Max shouted. “Here, boy!”
But no Stan emerged.
Max pressed on through the tangle of briars and overgrown bushes toward where the barking was coming from. “Stan!” He stepped forward to where Stanley stood barking above a lump on the ground. Boo wasn’t barking, she was prodding or licking something. What the heck?
He stepped forward and his blood froze. There on the ground was Laura, lying on her side, her face deathly pale, her eyelids fluttering.
“Laura?”
She groaned and closed her eyes. She was barely conscious. He knelt beside her and felt for her pulse—it was weak. Both dogs stood back, allowing the recognized pack leader to sort out the problem. He lifted her up and accompanied by the two dogs, carried her back to the house. Rachel had appeared, obviously wondering about Laura, and immediately ran over to them.
“She’s collapsed. Her pulse is weak. Get Gabe. Then dial emergency services and tell them we’ll get her to Christchurch hospital by helicopter. It’ll be quicker than them sending an ambulance.”
By the time he’d walked her into the house and lain her down on the chaise longue in the drawing room, Gabe had appeared and took over. Max stood back and let Gabe do the necessary checks, stunned and appalled by what had happened.
“Has she taken any drugs?” asked Gabe, as he checked her pulse.
“No way. She doesn’t take drugs. She hardly drinks alcohol.”
Gabe closed his eyes as he pressed his fingers to her pulse. “Something’s affected her heart. Sounds like she has a murmur. Could be related to her rheumatic fever.” He looked up at Max “Do you know if she contracted an infection recently?”
Max frowned, trying to think. “She said she had a tooth abscess in Australia. But it healed, I think.”
Gabe grimaced. “Could be infective endocarditis.”
“What’s that?”
“Serious, is what that is. She needs to get to a hospital fast.”
Rachel appeared.
“Have you contacted emergency services?” asked Gabe.
“Yes, but they agree with Max. It’ll be quicker for us to fly her there.”
“Then let’s get on with it. Max can fly while I take care of Laura. You’d best come too. Grab some essentials, Rach, and let’s get going.”
Max picked Laura back up again as Rachel gathered things under Max’s direction. Jim Connelly entered the room, closely followed by Lizzi and Pete. “What the hell’s happened to Laura?”
“She’s collapsed. That’s all we know. Something to do with her heart. We’re taking her to Christchurch now.”
“Poor kid,” said Jim. “But she’s in good hands with you.”
Max didn’t have time to express his surprise at his father’s words. He continued straight out the door.
“Do you want a hand?” called Pete, from behind.
“Just look after things here, thanks mate.”
By the time he’d crossed the road to the paddock which he used as a helicopter pad, both Rachel and Gabe had joined in from different directions, both carrying what they needed for the journey.
Reluctantly Max relinquished Laura into Gabe’s care while he concentrated on getting them to Christchurch as soon as they could.
The flight was intense as the three siblings conversed in short, to the point, comments, all focusing on what they needed to do to keep Laura alive, to get her help as soon as they could. It was a short flight but it felt as if it were going on forever to Max.
He remained focused on flying the helicopter. They all depended on him at the moment and he suppressed everything—every fear, every regret, every feeling he had for the woman who lay lifeless in the back seat—so he could focus on what had to be done to get her help.
Max spoke over the radio. He turned it off, and spoke to Gabe and Rachel, through their headphones. “We’ll be landing in five minutes. They have emergency services waiting for us. They want to know if there’s anything further we can tell them. Gabe?”
Gabe reeled off her vital signs and then paused.
“Tell them that I think she has heart failure. Class 4. Severe.”
10
“Laura’s heart has broken and so has all of ours…get well…” @TellTaleGirl #heartsick
Max heard the words “heart failure”, but refused to understand them. They sat on the edge of his consciousness as he continued to focus on flying the helicopter. They were words without meaning, words that needed to be kept at arm’s length because he dared not understand them, dared not let the meaning penetrate his mind, or his heart. Because he didn’t know what would happen if he did.
Instead, he flexed his hands over the controls as he circled once around Hagley Park, opposite the hospital, and came into land. With studied detachment he watched the hospital orderlies run toward the helicopter as Rachel slammed open the door. The doctor peered in, exchanged a few words with Gabe and then gave the word for the orderlies to move Laura, who was still semi-conscious, onto a stretcher. Everything happened quickly after that. Gabe followed Rachel and the medics across the grass towards the hospital. Max craned his neck, trying to catch sight of Laura but she was surrounded by medics. An official signaled to Max. His prompt to take off again, to leave the space clear for other incoming emergencies. It was time to go, time to leave Laura with the people who could help her.
He eased the throttle on the helicopter and rose into the air. He glanced once at the bustling crowd which now surrounded Laura as it moved toward the open doors of the hospital. He couldn’t see her. He couldn’t see her, he thought, suddenly panicked. But, as he twisted the helicopter around in the direction of the airport, he thought he would see her, and when he did he wouldn’t leave her side.
* * *
It was an hour before Max could return to the hospital. For most of the taxi drive from the airport he’d stared out at the flat suburban landscape, trying to hold on to the thought that Laura was in the best of hands, and that this was a nightmare from which he’d soon awake. The one phone call he’d had to Gabe hadn’t brought good news. Laura was undergoing tests and there’d been no change in her condition.
Self-recrimination, guilt, anger with himself, even anger with Laura, filled him. But not as much as grief. And that grief put everything into perspective. That grief spelled things out so clearly that he thought he must have been blind before. He had feelings for her which went deeper than any he’d experienced before and, if she survived this, he’d make sure he’d do everything in his power to make her happy.
It was nearly eight in the evening by the time he arrived at the hospital. Gabe was pacing the floor while Rachel stared blankly at a magazine. They both looked at him with something like relief in their eyes. Of course, Max thought, people always looked to him to save the situation. How come he could fool everyone so effectively, make them believe he was invincible, when he couldn’t even look after the woman who’d quickly come to mean everything to him?
“Any news?” he asked.
“No,” they both said, sitting down again.
“Why don’t you guys go home? Go back to Belendroit. Dad will be worrying.”
“No way. We’ll stay with you. Won’t we, Gabe?”
“Of course.” Gabe gripped Max’s shoulder. “We’re here for you, bro.”
Max hardly felt Gabe’s grip. He looked at him bleakly and wondered if he’d feel anything again because, beside Laura’s collapse, nothing was important, nothing could touch him.
* * *
Max glanced again at the clock which had moved on precisely five minutes since his last glance. It was three in the morning and Max was still numb, still sitting on the same hard-backed chair he’d sat on when he’d first entered the hospital.
He hadn’t paced the floor, hadn’t bitten his nails, talked, fiddled with his phone—nothing. All his energy had turned inward. He simply sat, alternately staring at his hands and the clock, focusing on Laura, visualizing every life-affirming aspect of her—from her laugh which caught people up in her energy, to the unself-conscious way she presented her natural sexiness, to her fearlessness. He’d once read somewhere that if you gave something or someone attention then you strengthened the subject of your thoughts. It was all he could do for Laura now.
Rachel was curled up asleep on a couple of chairs and the only sign Gabe was asleep was his closed eyes and regular breathing. Otherwise, Gabe sat the same way—legs outstretched, hands loosely clenched in front of him. Max idly wondered if Gabe ever let loose his restraint. He was always so measured, so reasonable in everything. Max wished he had an ounce of that containment, or reason. If he had, Laura might not be lying in intensive care right now.
Max moved onto the third cup of powdered coffee from the machine down the hall and Gabe awoke and looked immediately at him.
“Any news?”
Max shook his head.
Gabe stretched and walked over and drank some of Max’s coffee and gave it back to him with a grimace. “That is really bad coffee. In fact it shouldn’t be dignified with the name ‘coffee.’”
Max shrugged. “I haven’t thought about the taste.” Strange how all his senses seemed to have deserted him except one—his ability to remember everything about Laura. And those memories stripped his heart bare. Nothing—no taste, no sight, no sound, came close to the enormity of what her collapse had awakened in his heart. He knew with absolute clarity that nothing would be the same again.
“I should have guessed from her hands.”
Max looked at his brother. “What?”
“Her hands. They’d swollen. Remember? She told me that they’d swollen suddenly and she couldn’t get Mom’s ring off her finger.”
“Oh my God! Of course.”
“Yeah,” said Gabe bleakly. “Fluid retention is a sign that the heart isn’t working. I didn’t pick it up.”
“Why would you? You weren’t looking for it. And she was so fit the other symptoms were probably hidden.”
Suddenly the doors opened. Gabe looked up and Max leaped to his feet, spilling the coffee.
“How is she?”
“She’s awake now. She’s out of danger.” The doctor looked at Gabe. “You were correct in your diagnosis, doctor. If you hadn’t been so prompt we might not have been able to save her in time.”
“Heart failure?” asked Max, still unable to believe his vital Laura could be subject to such a devastating thing.
“Yes. The good news is that the treatment is straightforward. Antibiotics, and she’s responding well.”
“Thank God.” Then Max swallowed, realizing there must be some bad news to follow. “But?”
“But…” The doctor inhaled, as if playing for time. “This was a serious episode and we can’t predict what damage her heart has sustained, or its impact on her future. The MRI and scans show that the scarring on the valves of her heart has worsened with this infection. She’ll need surgery if she’s not to relapse.”
“Surgery?” said Max, grasping at something solid he could deal with that would solve things. “We’ll organize surgery. And that will fix it?”
“There’s never any guarantees. But it’s certainly the best option. It has a high success rate.”
“Good.” Max paced, stopped and shook the doctor’s hand. “Thank you.”
He watched the doctor leave and turned to the others who were staring at him. “Did you hear that?” His voice cracked and Max suddenly felt overwhelmed. Tense all night, it was like the doctor had flicked a switch, unraveling the cord that had kept him together. He sat down as if pushed and doubled over, putting his head in his hands, willing the tears that sprung into his eyes to disappear. What the hell? He never cried. But it was like trying to shore up a tsunami and before he knew it his shoulders were shuddering and he was sobbing like a child.
“Christ!” said Gabe. “Rach?” he called, the fear evident in his voice.
“Max!”
Max felt Rachel’s arms come around him and he slumped against her, allowi
ng her to comfort him in a way she’d never done before, in a way he’d never needed her to do before.
“It’s okay, Max. She’ll be okay. You heard what the doctor said,” said Rachel soothingly.
Max’s lungs tried to suck in the air like there wasn’t enough of it in the room. What the hell was happening to him? He panicked and pushed Rachel away and jumped up, wiping his face on the back of his sleeve. He paced the room, breathing deeply, trying to calm down. By the time he was steady enough to face Rachel and Gabe, they were both staring at him—Rachel with an expression of tenderness, as if she’d just witnessed the birth of a baby, and Gabe with amused bewilderment.
“Man, you’ve got it bad!” said Gabe.
Max turned sharply to him. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He felt around in his pocket for a handkerchief but he didn’t have one. Rachel thrust some tissues into his hand. He blew his nose. “Gabe, do you know about this operation the doctor talked about?”
“A little. There’ll be a waiting list.”
“No there won’t. I’ll pay to get it done as soon as possible.”
“And there will be recuperation time.”
“We’ll stay at Belendroit. She likes it there. It’ll be peaceful and away from all the drama, and close to the hospital.”
“Max,” said Rachel softly. “I think you’re forgetting something.”
Was he? “What?”
“Laura. It’s up to her. It’s her life. She might not want to stay at Belendroit. She might want to go back to the US to have the operation. She might want to go back to recuperate.”
He looked away from his brother and sister, remembering Laura’s last words to him before she ran off. She’d wanted an annulment. But she’d been sick, hadn’t she? Surely that would have altered her perception? But he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling inside which told the real truth. Laura had never veered away from their intention to get the wedding annulled. He might have done, but she never had.