Second Chance At the Ranch

by Maxine Morrey

  ‘So, what did you find?’ Pete said, pulling a chair across to sit next to his brother.

  ‘This one’s probably the best.’ Nick pointed to some flight details on the screen. ‘Qantas, via Melbourne. Leaving tomorrow morning. There’s still a few seats left. Do you want me to book one?’

  ‘Yep. Jules will be better off with her sister, whatever. I’ll ring Mum in a couple of hours and get them to come and stay to look after the kids. I’ve no idea how long she’ll be gone, but Mum’ll understand.’

  Nick nodded numbly. He clicked with the mouse and began filling in the details on the booking page of the website. ‘I need your credit card.’

  ***

  Juliet handed over the fare and exited the black cab. She was shocked at the amount of reporters camped out around the hospital. She knew her sister was high profile but until this moment, she hadn’t understood quite how high. Suddenly, the cool persona that Hero presented made a lot more sense. And, with the accident happening within hours of the press conference for a mould-breaking cosmetics deal, the media had pounced.

  Juliet entered the hospital without incident. Hero had always been careful to avoid any involvement of Juliet in her professional life. She knew the tabloids loved to look for any angle on a celebrity and it didn’t matter who they used or destroyed in the process. Hero was vehement that she would not subject her sister or her family to that sort of exposure and she’d made good on that promise. Glancing at the gathering outside, Juliet realised that couldn’t have been easy. Guilt gnawed at her as she made these discoveries. She’d thought Hero had just been protecting herself, and of course she had been. But she’d been protecting those she loved as well. Until that moment, Juliet hadn’t understood just how much. She stopped at the elegant reception desk and asked directions to Hero Scott’s room.

  The receptionist’s face was expressionless. ‘I’m sure you understand that a lot of people have been requesting to see Miss Scott. Could I ask your name and your relationship to Miss Scott please?’

  Juliet blinked and stared for a moment. It was only then that she became aware of two large men dressed in dark suits and wearing radio earpieces waiting by the door. Security. Yet another reminder of why Hero had withdrawn behind a mask of indifference if this was how she had to live her life. Or end it.

  ‘My name is Juliet Webster. I’m Hero Scott’s sister. The hospital rang me.’

  The receptionist nodded as if to say, ‘Is that the best you can do?’

  ‘I see.’ The woman shuffled some papers and seemed to be making no move to accept the story.

  A bundle of pure exhaustion and shock and fear, Juliet cracked. ‘We had a call from Dr Penland to tell me there had been an accident and that my sister might die. I’ve just stepped off a bloody long flight and I’d rather be with her than standing here talking to you so if you can stop just bloody faffing around, I want to see her. Now!’ Juliet drew breath and knew she probably looked a state after all the travelling, not to mention now stood here yelling like a fishwife. Quite the opposite of Hero’s signature serenity and elegance. She didn’t care. All she wanted was to be with her baby sister.

  ‘Just a moment please, Mrs Webster.’

  Juliet stepped back from the desk, taking the passport she had slammed down as identification with her. She closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. God, how she wished Pete were here with her. But they had decided that it would be better if he stayed at the station with the kids, and Nick. Her in-laws should be there by now and they really didn’t want to upset the children any more than they already were. Their father staying with them gave it all some sense of normality, however engineered that may be.

  ‘Mrs Webster? I’m Dr Penland.’ A man who looked to be in his early forties with a kind face held out his hand. Juliet shook it, accepting his request to accompany him. As Juliet entered her sister’s room, she was glad the doctor was with her. Despite all the images and fears her own mind had conjured in the hours since they’d had that dreadful call, Juliet was still completely unprepared for the sight that met her. She’d never seen so many tubes and machines. A framework was over the lower half of the bed, keeping the linen off Hero’s legs. Beeps and whooshes from the machinery were the only noises. And there, in among all the electronics and mechanics lay her little sister, broken and bruised. Juliet’s knees buckled. The doctor steadied her, then pulled a chair across, easing her into it as he motioned to a nurse for a glass of water.

  ‘Thank you.’ Juliet’s voice was barely audible.

  She hadn’t taken her eyes off the figure in the bed. Pulling the chair closer, she gently took one of Hero’s hands in her own, careful to avoid the canula secured in the back of it. Her skin was soft and cool. She smiled through the tears that were now streaming silently down her face. Hero’s hands were always cold. ‘Cold hands, warm heart,’ she’d always said, and no matter what the appearance, Juliet knew that was absolutely true.

  ‘Is she going to be all right?’ Juliet managed eventually.

  The doctor shifted his focus from the patient to her sister. This was never easy.

  ‘She’s held her own so far. That’s a good sign, but she’s not out of the woods yet. We did a brain scan when she was brought in because of the head trauma but it came back clear. She was very lucky in that respect.’

  ‘But the bandages?’

  ‘Your sister suffered head and facial lacerations during the impact. The deeper ones have had to be stitched but we’ve used hair ties for the more superficial ones on her head wherever possible to minimise scarring. Most of the facial ones will fade in time too. The most serious one, as you can see, is the one across her forehead.’

  Juliet looked at the line of neat stitches that stretched from the centre of Hero’s forehead across and down to her cheekbone.

  ‘The laceration there was far deeper than the others, but I called in a plastic surgeon colleague of mine who has the highest reputation to assist me on this. As far as we can see, it doesn’t seem to have damaged any muscles or nerves. It will fade over time, but its severity does means that it will be more visible than some of the others.’

  Juliet stared at her sister’s face. What wasn’t covered in stitches or gauze was purple with bruising. She knew what the doctor was saying, as kindly as he could, knowing that she would in turn have to deliver the message to her sister. Hero’s career, one based purely on looks, was over. That glittering, shallow world wouldn’t wait for her injuries to heal, or accept that that perfect face, lean and lithe body was now damaged, probably irreparably. All that was gone.

  ‘What else?’ Juliet forced herself to ask, drying her eyes on a handkerchief with one hand as the other held tightly to Hero.

  ‘She suffered internal bleeding, but we luckily managed to control that quite quickly. She has a broken left arm. The other main injury is to her leg. I’m afraid it was broken in several places. We’ve put pins in to help it mend but it’ll be a while before she can walk on it again. She’s going to need a lot of physiotherapy. It’s quite possible that she’ll always need to walk with a stick, but it’s impossible to say for sure at this point. Different people heal differently. She was fit and healthy before the accident, I understand?’ Juliet nodded. ‘The muscle tone on the other leg is good. It’s really a case of wait and see.’

  Juliet thought of Hero’s graceful, serene walk, the way they had chased around with the children after Christmas lunch just a couple of months ago, the unrestrained joy in her sister’s face and the laughter that accompanied it. Dr Penland laid a gentle hand on her shoulder as her tears ran freely again. She barely noticed him withdraw from the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

  It was three more days before Hero’s vital signs stabilised and three more after that before she opened her eyes and looked blankly at her sister. Her brain, fuzzy with medication, tried to make sense of where she was and why Juliet was there holding her hand, looking pale and drawn.

  ‘What happened?’ she
whispered eventually. Her voice was dry and weak.

  ‘There was an accident, sweetheart. A lorry blew out a tyre and crossed the central reservation onto your side of the road. It hit your car into another one.’

  There was no flicker of recognition on Hero’s face. Dr Penland entered the room, catching the conversation. Juliet looked at him, confusion and worry in her eyes. He answered her unasked question as he made some checks on his patient.

  ‘It’s quite normal for some amnesia following a trauma. Sometimes it comes back, sometimes it doesn’t.’

  Hero blinked with tired, drugged eyes. ‘Trauma?’

  Juliet stroked the dark hair. ‘It’s all right, darling. Everything’s all right,’ she soothed as Hero drifted back to sleep. But Juliet knew that was a lie. Everything wasn’t all right. Apart from Hero’s own injuries which she was clearly still unaware of, and the likely sudden end of her modelling career, Juliet had to find a way to tell her sister that Anya, Hero’s best friend and ally, hadn’t survived the accident. Jules knew that would be the hardest thing she had ever had to say to anyone – and she worried that receiving that news could send Hero straight back on to the critical list.

  It took a few more days for Hero to awaken enough for any real conversation to take place, but once she was lucid enough, Juliet broke the news about Anya. Hero’s good friend, Rupert, had been in and out all of the time, checking on her, keeping a lid on the media’s hounding. He was as devastated about Anya as they both knew Hero would be, but had agreed that the news was probably best coming from Juliet.

  Hero listened to the words her sister spoke, feeling dazed and confused. It couldn’t be true. The many medications she was on must have affected her understanding. It was impossible that Anya was gone. But the look on her sister’s face told her it was true. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the tears to come, wishing for them in the hope that they would take away some of the pain that squeezed her heart until she felt it might burst. But her eyes remained dry.

  ***

  Juliet had been in England for three weeks when the man knocked on the door to the private room. Hero was sitting in bed, propped up on pillows and staring at a daytime television show rather than the ceiling for a change, trying to decide which was more entertaining.

  The visitor made to enter before stopping short. Juliet saw his eyes take in the damage to Hero’s face and body and the shock at seeing it showed clearly on his own face. Quickly, he made an effort to cover it, giving them both what was clearly a practised smile. Juliet was unsure whether to return it.

  Hero spoke first. ‘Hello Jonathan.’

  Juliet took the opportunity to excuse herself. ‘I’ll just—’

  ‘No!’ He held out a hand, palm towards her, then glanced briefly at Hero, his eyes unable to linger there. ‘I didn’t realise you had company. I’ll come back later.’

  But Hero had seen it. That look in his eyes. He’d seen the metal framework piercing her leg, the plaster cast on her arm, the stitches on her face and the short fuzzy patches on her head where yet more stitches hid. But he hadn’t seen Hero. It was all so obvious to her now.

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Hero stated softly, her tone flat.

  Guilt flushed the man’s face. She held his gaze a moment longer then looked back towards the television, a sign for him to leave. Making no objection, he stepped back and, in her peripheral vision, Hero saw the door close. His feet had never even crossed the threshold.

  Juliet retook her seat, frowning at her sister. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Boyfriend, I suppose you would call him,’ Hero answered, her voice empty of emotion. ‘Or rather ex-boyfriend as it would appear.’

  ‘You didn’t give him much of a chance, darling.’ Juliet was, as usual, ready to see everyone’s point of view, but her mind was also still trying to align the word ‘boyfriend’ with the man she’d just seem. Expensively dressed, elegant and well spoken, the visitor had to be at least twenty-five years older than her sister. Hero had never mentioned him. Juliet hadn’t even known Hero was seeing anyone.

  ‘He wasn’t looking for a chance, Jules.’ Hero flicked off the TV with the remote and turned back to her sister. There was a strange expression on her face. ‘I was a trophy, that’s all. He’s twenty-seven years older than me but he’s successful, dresses nicely, keeps himself fit and was nice to me. It was a suitable arrangement for both of us.’ Hero turned her attention to the sheet over her, smoothing it unnecessarily with her one able hand, unable to bear the expression on her sister’s face.

  ‘The accident altered the arrangement. I wouldn’t have expected him to stay.’ Hero gave a shrug automatically, wincing as pain shot through her.

  Juliet’s green eyes were wide in amazement, and concern. ‘It sounds more like a business arrangement than a relationship, Hero.’

  ‘I suppose it was in a way,’ she replied, refusing to meet her sister’s eyes.

  Juliet felt the sadness within her, and guilt that she shared such love with Pete when her sister was so very lonely. At that moment, more than anything, she wanted her husband’s strong arms around her.

  ‘Did you sleep with him?’

  Hero rolled her eyes then stopped mid-roll when it hurt. Everything bloody hurt.

  ‘Sometimes.’ Finally, she met her sister’s gaze. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Disapproving.’

  ‘I’m not!’

  ‘Yes, you are. You’re as bad as Rupert. I don’t expect you to understand, Jules. It doesn’t matter now anyway. I won’t be seeing him again.’

  Juliet stared. It all seemed so cold, so matter-of-fact. She knew her sister and, however she acted, this wasn’t her. Not really. Juliet knew that behind what the public saw, she didn’t truly have the cool, detached personality required for such an arrangement.

  ‘Did you love him?’

  ‘No,’ Hero replied softly. ‘But he was nice. I liked him and we had fun.’

  ‘Don’t you want more than that?’

  ‘What else is there?’

  ‘Love.’

  Hero shifted in the bed. Her rear was sore from sitting in the same position. She took hold of her sister’s hand and touched the simple gold band on her finger.

  ‘Not everyone gets what you and Pete have, Jules. It’s beautiful. You can see the love in your eyes, and in his. He’ll look at you in the pub when it’s heaving with people and it’s like you two are the only ones in the room. It’s precious.’ She smiled but there was so much sadness in that smile, Juliet’s heart nearly broke. ‘Not everyone gets that lucky, or is that privileged.’

  Juliet laid her other hand over Hero’s. Her sister was right; what she and Pete had was wonderful. Hero had used the right word. They were incredibly privileged to share what they did, and they knew it. She missed him so much.

  ‘That doesn’t mean you should give up.’

  ‘You don’t miss what you’ve never had.’

  ‘I don’t believe that and neither do you.’ Juliet’s voice was firmer now. Suddenly she was furious at Hero for wasting her life like that, letting a man use her like some bimbo.

  But her sister’s comment had given her away. The mask was slipping. Perhaps it was already gone, shattered at the moment of impact like so much else. Juliet realised the truth. Hero wanted love just like everybody else but the fear of being rejected had won. She was too afraid of losing love to ever let herself find it.

  In the days and weeks following the accident, Hero didn’t have the energy or the ability to provide herself with the mental armour she had created before. Juliet stayed with her, taking her for walks around the hospital after they had begged the doctors to let her exchange her bed for a wheelchair, just a few moments of freedom and fresh air. Juliet was her shield now.

  Hero envied her sister’s ability to interact with others so easily and make friends. Hero had been surrounded by people in her career, but she knew the truth. They weren’t frie
nds. Most were acquaintances, nothing more. They had sent flowers but not visited. The bouquets were, of course, delivered by hand. All those beautiful people, doing their best to avert their face from the press whilst still ensuring that the cameras got their best side.

  Jonathan had come, that was true. She still wasn’t sure why. Maybe she had been hard on him as Juliet had said, but she’d seen the look on his face when he had seen the changes in hers. She didn’t want to give him the chance to tell her that she had been a mistake for him too. Juliet had been accurate in her observation – what they’d had wasn’t really a relationship, not in the way Juliet had, or in the way Hero really wanted.

  There were constant requests for visitors throughout the time Juliet stayed with her sister, and Rupert had been a godsend when it came to deciding who received permission, which was very few, and who was turned away. He knew who came because they cared and who had come to make themselves the centre of attention, or to collect fodder for gossip columns.

  Juliet had met Rupert a few times before when she’d lived in London and been inordinately glad to see him when he’d burst in through the door to Hero’s hospital room a few hours after Juliet had arrived. He had been buried in meetings in New York when his secretary had finally managed to reach him with the news of the accident. He’d left there and then, taking the first flight he could get back to London.

  Hero had been quiet at the hospital since Jonathan’s visit. She’d actually been a little surprised at seeing him at all. Rupert had never approved of the situation. He felt, as Juliet did, that Hero was no more than decoration which annoyed him, knowing that she was so much more than just a pretty face. However unhappy Rupert had been to put Jonathan on the approved list of visitors, he’d felt that Hero may want to see him which overruled his own gut. However, once he heard how the meeting ensued, and Jonathan’s barely concealed repugnance, Rupert went through the roof and Hero, startled at his strength of feeling, made him promise not to punch him when he voiced a desire to. His anger only increased when he saw Jonathan two days later at a function, now with a true bimbo on his arm. It was only his love and respect for Hero that made him walk away. Of course, he hadn’t promised not to get the louse blacklisted from every good restaurant and influential party for the foreseeable future, so that would have to do. For the moment at least.