Heartbeat

by Joan Johnston

  “How could we have done something so stupid?” he said. “It’s a little late to ask, but is this the right time of the month for you to get pregnant?”

  Maggie couldn’t believe she was having this conversation half naked pressed up against a door in the hospital with a man she’d known for barely more than a week. “My period is due in a few days,” she said, still half dazed from Jack’s lovemaking.

  “Thank God for that,” he said with a relieved sigh. “Now, where were we?” he said, nuzzling her neck.

  Maggie wasn’t sure whether to howl with indignation or with laughter. “Wait a minute.” She made the referee’s sign for a time out.

  Jack rearranged his jeans. It wasn’t fair that he could be dressed and dignified so quickly while she was reduced to reaching down to her ankles for her pantyhose. She left off her shoes and padded stocking-footed over to the bed. When she started to climb up onto it, Jack caught her at the waist and sat her on the edge.

  He eased her skirt up and stepped between her legs, laying his hands on her thighs. She put her arms around his neck and said, “We need to talk, Jack.”

  “About what?”

  “Victoria, for one thing. And us, for another.”

  “Us?” He nudged her hair away with his nose and kissed her throat. She let him do it because it felt so good, but she knew she had to make him stop or they’d be making love again and nothing she wanted to discuss with him would get discussed.

  “You were right, Jack.”

  “That’s good to know,” he said with a smile she could feel against her flesh. “Right about what?”

  “About women and commitment.”

  He kissed her lips. “Hmm. What about women and commitment?”

  “I don’t want to have an affair anymore, Jack. I’m interested in something more permanent.”

  He withdrew his hands from her thighs, reached up to remove her hands from around his neck, and took a step back. “Would you like to run that by me again? I thought you didn’t want to get involved.”

  “I’m changing the rules, Jack. I want it all.”

  “You know how I feel, Maggie,” he said, his features suddenly stony.

  “I see.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, feeling nakedly exposed to him, though she was completely dressed.

  She slipped off the bed past him, found her shoes, and slipped them on.

  “I guess I’d better tell you what I came to say,” Maggie said. Before he beat the obviously hasty retreat he had in mind. “I think Victoria may have killed Woody. Porter thinks she might be responsible for her husband’s death as well.”

  Jack came right up behind her. “Say that again.”

  She straightened her skirt and turned to find herself face to face with Jack. “It seems I’m not responsible for Woody’s death, after all. I checked the hospital records in Minnesota. He was recovering before he died suddenly of heart failure.”

  “Jesus.” Jack forked a hand through his hair. “I never suspected that.”

  “I feel like this giant millstone has been lifted off my shoulders, and I can do more than trudge through the next fifty years of my life,” Maggie said. “I can run and dance and play. I want to play, Jack,” she said, reaching up to brush at his long sideburns.

  He grabbed her hand. “If all you wanted to do was play, I’d be your man, Maggie. But you want more. I don’t.”

  He let go of her and took a step toward the door. He was leaving, and Maggie knew he wouldn’t be back. “Do you have to go right now?” She took the step forward necessary to kiss him on the mouth, her lips clinging.

  “We have to stop, Maggie,” Jack said. But his mouth was hungry on hers. “If you keep kissing me, I’m going to lay you out on that bed, and we’ll both be sorry later.”

  “I’m not ready to let you go, Jack.”

  Jack suddenly went rigid.

  “Jack? What’s wrong?”

  “Stay here!” He was out the door and headed for the stairwell in a matter of seconds.

  Maggie ran after him. “What is it?” she demanded, catching up to him on the third floor stairwell and taking the stairs two at a time with him.

  “I thought I told you to wait for me in the doctor’s lounge.”

  “I’m not too good at taking orders. Tell me why we’re running up the stairs like a couple of bats out of hell.”

  “I got a beep—a vibrating buzz—from the detective watching the ICU.” Jack grabbed the fifth floor stairwell door and yanked it open. “One of the murder suspects is in there with the kids.”

  As Roman closed the front door behind him, he called out, “Lisa? Are you home?”

  “I’m upstairs, Roman.”

  He took the stairs slowly, wanting to postpone their confrontation as long as he could. When he looked up, he saw Lisa waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

  She was dressed in a pale blue negligee that once upon a time he would have had off of her in nothing flat. He settled on the stairs right where he was and dropped his head in his hands.

  “Roman?”

  He heard Lisa pad quickly down the stairs. He could smell her flowery perfume as she settled on the carpeted stair beside him. He took her hands in his, praying that what he had to say would make a difference.

  “I spoke to Isabel today and asked her to transfer to another surgical team,” he said.

  “If you think that’s best . . .” she murmured.

  He gripped her hands more tightly, willing her to believe him. “I never realized Isabel was in love with me, Lisa. If I had, I’d have done something about the situation a lot sooner. I’m not in love with her. I never was. I haven’t looked at her—or any other woman—since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

  He took a deep breath and continued, “I didn’t spend all those late nights at the hospital to be with her. I stayed away from home because I wanted you so much, I was nearly crazy. And you didn’t seem to want me.”

  “I see,” she said quietly, her eyes focused on her bare feet.

  He caught her quivering chin and lifted it, so he could see into her eyes. “What is it you see?”

  “I’ve treated you abominably, yet you’re willing to give up the best surgical nurse on staff for my sake,” she said in a small voice.

  “I would do anything for you, Lisa. Haven’t you realized that by now?” Roman heard the quiet desperation in his voice and reached for more self-control. It was difficult when he felt like any second the fragile shell of his marriage would fracture and fall to pieces around him.

  “I’m making the change for Isabel’s sake too,” he admitted. “Because I like her—don’t stiffen up like that,” he pleaded. ” I didn’t say I love her. I said I like her, and I think she’ll be happier if we’re not in each other’s company so much.”

  “And you think working with you in the future will make her unhappy?” she asked.

  Roman nodded. “Because she wants something from me that I can never give her.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My heart, Lisa. It already belongs to you.”

  She took a sobbing breath and said, “I’ve got something to tell you, too, Roman.”

  He was afraid to ask, but he needed to know. “I’m listening.”

  “Three months ago, I saw you with Isabel at the hospital. You were both laughing and . . . It was so obvious she loved you!”

  “Why didn’t you say something at the time?”

  “I was afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “That you would leave me.”

  “What?” He was appalled to think the idea had even crossed her mind. “Why would you think something like that?”

  She took a shuddery breath and said, “Because my father left my mother for another woman. She always warned me to be careful not to give my heart to a man. She told me to be sure I had a good job and could support myself if he ever found someone else—”

  He pulled her into his arms. “God, Lisa. I’d never leave yo
u.” He understood so much that he had never understood before. Why she was so insistent on keeping her job. Why she was afraid to meet his eyes when she said “I love you.”

  “I’m not your father, Lisa. And you’re not your mother. We aren’t going to make the same mistakes they did.”

  “We aren’t?” she said hopefully.

  “We’re going to talk to each other about our problems, rather than let them simmer between us. We’re going to carve out time from our careers to spend with each other. And we’re going to trust our love to get us over any difficult spots.”

  He watched her eyes well with tears and reached down to kiss away the teardrops as they fell. “Don’t cry, darling. Please don’t cry.”

  “I’m just so happy, Roman. You see, there’s another reason why I’ve been so very tired lately.” She smiled shyly and said, “I’m pregnant.”

  Roman’s eyes shot to his wife’s belly. He met her gaze and found the joyful confirmation there. Slowly, reverently, he reached out to touch.

  She put her hand on his and leaned over to press her lips against his.

  Roman felt a dozen things, among them wonder and awe and relief and fear. He lifted Lisa onto his lap, and she put her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. “When I think how close I came to losing you . . . .”

  “We didn’t plan—”

  “I love the idea of having another child. Amy has been . . .”

  Roman’s vision blurred. He pulled Lisa close, seeking comfort and receiving it.

  “She’ll be all right, Roman,” Lisa whispered in his ear. “Believe it.”

  “I love you, Lisa.”

  She looked into his eyes and said, “I love you, too.”

  Chapter 19

  “What are you doing here at this hour, Mrs. Wainwright?”

  Victoria made a startled sound in her throat. “Oh, hello, Ms. Rojas. You frightened me.” She knew Hollander’s surgical nurse only slightly but was irked that the woman had shown up at so inopportune a time. The hospital was all but deserted at this hour. It would have taken only a moment to do what she had come to do. Ah, well. It shouldn’t take long to get rid of her.

  Victoria was sitting on the bed beside Amy in the ICU, instead of on the uncomfortable plastic chair that had been provided for visitors. She held up the copy of Beatrix Potter’s Tales of Peter Rabbit and tugged at the volunteer’s jacket she wore over her suit. “I came to read to Amy.”

  She felt the needle shift in her jacket pocket. She had already filled it with potassium chloride from the drug room. If Hollander’s nurse would leave she could help this child—and her parents—find peace.

  Isabel frowned. “I thought you only volunteered on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

  “That’s true, but Amy is a special case. I didn’t think anyone would mind if I paid her some special attention.”

  “I’m sure Amy will appreciate it.” Isabel brushed her fingers against Amy’s cheek. “She looks so peaceful, doesn’t she? As though she were just sleeping.”

  “Yes, she does,” Victoria agreed, glancing at the child. She frowned and said, “Should her eyelashes be fluttering like that?”

  When Isabel put her fingertips on Amy’s face to lift her eyelid, the child fought her touch. “Dios mio,” Isabel whispered.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Amy’s head rolled as she fought the ventilator tube in her sleep, and Isabel said, “Easy, baby. Easy.”

  “What’s going on?” Victoria asked, slipping off the mattress onto her feet.

  “She’s waking up. She’s coming out of the coma!”

  Victoria stared in horror at the child. This couldn’t be happening. She had hoped to spare Amy’s parents the painful experience of being unrecognized by their daughter, of seeing her limbs fly about, of seeing her looking dazed and lost.

  “Don’t fight it, baby,” Isabel crooned as Amy continued to battle the respirator tube. She turned to Victoria and said, “I’m going to make a call to Dr. Hollander. Will you keep an eye on Amy for me and call the ICU nurse if she gets any more agitated?”

  “Of course,” Victoria said, smiling. “I’d be glad to.”

  “If Amy wakes up, explain to her where she is. Try to keep her from panicking,” Isabel said on her way out the swinging doors.

  Victoria sat back down on the bed beside the child, who remained restless. “It’s all right, dear,” she murmured. “It will all be over soon.”

  She reached a hand into her pocket, searching for the capped needle, but before she could take it out, Amy’s eyes fluttered open. The child slowly turned her head and looked directly into Victoria’s eyes. She looked confused, but not frightened.

  Victoria hesitated. None of the others had been awake. Certainly not Richard or Woodson. Or any of the nine children. Amy would make ten. One each year since Woodson’s death. Ten families saved the anguish she had suffered, knowing her son would never be perfect again.

  It was better to let children be remembered as they were. She was especially aware of the favor she was doing these families since Porter had forced her to allow Brian to live. Her brother had actually threatened to go to the police if she harmed her grandson! Victoria’s insides trembled and quivered—like Brian’s limbs—whenever she spent any time at all with her grandson. Was there ever such an imperfect child? Who could love such a creature? He was better off dead than unloved and unwanted.

  Victoria frowned as Amy lifted a forefinger from where her hand lay flat on the bed and pointed. Victoria followed the little girl’s finger to the book under her arm and held out the cover for the child to see. “You like Peter Rabbit?” Victoria said.

  Unmistakably, behind the Xs of tape that held the respirator in place, the little girl smiled.

  Victoria wasn’t sure what to do. The child showed no signs of paraparesis—she had no telltale tremors and could control her finger enough to point without difficulty. Her memory apparently hadn’t suffered if she could remember Peter Rabbit. Victoria gripped the needle in her pocket. She had to make a decision quickly. Isabel would be back soon.

  “Victoria. Don’t.”

  Victoria turned and confronted the intruder. Jack Kittrick. And who else right behind him but Margaret! “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr. Kittrick. Don’t what?” she said with feigned innocence. One look at his face told her he wasn’t fooled. Who was he, really? Not an insurance investigator, she’d wager. No wonder she’d seen him as a predator. One recognized another of the same species.

  How had he come to suspect her? How much did he really know? Victoria held out the book to him. “I was planning to read to Amy. She says she likes Peter Rabbit.”

  “She can’t talk, Victoria,” Maggie said flatly. “She’s in a coma.”

  Victoria shot her a superior smile. “Not anymore.”

  “What?”

  “See for yourself,” Victoria said, standing back and gesturing to the child.

  She watched them rush to Amy’s bedside like avenging angels ready to do battle if the child had been harmed. Amy recognized the two of them with widened eyes, smiled, and pointed with a single forefinger at them.

  “Oh, Amy, you’re awake. And smiling!” Maggie said, laughing and crying. “Jack, she’s smiling!”

  “I see that,” Jack said.

  Margaret’s eyes were wet with tears, and she was grinning like a fool, Victoria noticed. Kittrick’s eyes glistened with emotion as well. Victoria felt her own eyes begin to prickle. Her nose began to burn. If only it could have been like this with Woodson. If only it could have been like this with Brian.

  The pain leapt up to grab at her like a ravening beast, tearing at her throat, sealing it closed so she couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. Victoria took a faltering step back.

  “Are you all right, Victoria?”

  Victoria looked into her daughter-in-law’s concerned eyes and saw ten years of torment reflected back at her. Her own torment. It was time to end it once and for all. It w
as fine to help others, but it was time to help herself. She would never be free of the pain until she was free of the final source of that pain.

  Brian had to die.

  “I’m fine, Margaret,” she said in a very calm voice. It was easy to be calm, now that she had made up her mind what to do. “I guess there’s no need for me to stay and keep Amy company. I suspect it’s going to be very busy around here once word gets out that she’s woken up.”

  At that moment, the ICU doors banged open and Dr. Hollander came striding in, his wife by his side, his arm curved protectively around her waist. “How’s Amy? Is she all right?”

  Victoria stepped aside and let the doctor and his wife pass by. They were followed immediately by Isabel and the ICU nurse. It was easy, in all the commotion, to ease through the swinging doors and disappear from the room.

  Maggie stepped aside to make room for Lisa and Roman. “Amy’s awake, Lisa, and she seems to recognize us.”

  Maggie saw Roman’s hands shake as he reached down to examine his daughter with an exquisitely tender touch.

  Amy squirmed on the bed and struggled against the tube in her mouth.

  “She wants the tube out, Roman,” Lisa said agitatedly. “Can’t you take it out?”

  “Just a moment,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “Let me make sure—”

  Maggie saw Roman was trying to remove the surgical tape without causing his daughter any pain. He was fumbling so badly, Isabel took over and said, “That’s nurse’s work.”

  Quickly and efficiently, she removed the tape and instructed Amy what to do as she removed the tube from her throat. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?” Isabel said with a reassuring smile.

  Amy opened her mouth to speak, but nodded instead.

  “Her throat’s sore,” Isabel explained to anyone who might need an explanation.

  “Can I hold her?” Lisa asked Roman.

  “Why don’t you sit on the bed beside her?” he instructed. When Lisa had trouble getting onto the high hospital bed, Roman lifted her from behind, helped her get settled, then picked Amy up and laid her in Lisa’s arms.

  Amy didn’t say anything, just curled up against her mother, made a satisfied sound, and lay still. Roman put his arm around his wife and child, and Lisa exchanged a look with her husband that made Maggie’s heart ache with envy. Whatever had been wrong between them obviously had been mended.