“I don’t know. What the hell happened?”
“I’m not sure,” Jake said slowly. “Taryn’s not talking, neither is Lexi. They just keep saying to give her a little time, something about shock and denial being the first stages.”
Michael ran a hand through his hair, his expression slightly flustered. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Damned if I know. Want me to ask one of them to go in and check on her?”
Michael nodded. He’d been on the verge of heading in himself, but Jake’s suggestion was probably better.
Just as Jake left to deliver the message, Maggie emerged from the ladies room. She didn’t even glance his way, her expression one of extreme concentration. She moved slowly, her hand on the wall, as if she was feeling her way. Dread settled in the pit of Michaels’ stomach as he started toward her, praying that she’d just had too much to drink, but the feeling of unease that had been plaguing the back of his mind was now roaring in his ears.
Instead of heading toward the ballroom, Maggie moved uncertainly in the other direction, toward the exit. Michael wasn’t sure if that was intentional, and it scared him to death.
* * *
Maggie was trying so hard to put one foot in front of the other. With each passing moment, she felt increasingly worse. If she could just make it outside, she could text Michael and ask him to bring the car around. Or, better yet, she could ask the valet to call her a cab and explain everything later.
Without warning, a man came out of the men’s room and plowed right into Maggie. With quick reflexes, his arms shot out and caught her before she hit the ground, apologizing profusely.
“Maggie, is that you?” the man asked as he tried to steady her.
Maggie tried to focus, but it was difficult. Her vision was blurring rapidly, fading to splotches of color but no defined shapes. The voice was familiar; it definitely wasn’t Michael’s.
“Spencer?”
“God, Maggie, you look ... stunning.” Spencer Dumas, looking every bit the wealthy bad boy, held Maggie at arm’s length and looked her up and down appreciatively.
Maggie mumbled her thanks, trying to take a step back, but Spencer kept a tight grip on her arm. “I really should get back,” she hinted, but Spencer ignored her. She felt something warm trickling above her lip, and reached her fingers up self-consciously. When she pulled them away, the tips were stained a dark red.
“Get your hands off of her, Dumas,” said a deep male voice. Suddenly Maggie was weightless, feeling the warmth of a familiar hard male body, that clean, male scent that was uniquely Michael.
“Callaghan?” Spencer blinked, then narrowed his eyes at Maggie. “You’re with him?”
Maggie tried to answer, but somewhere between her brain and her mouth the message became garbled. She leaned heavily into Michael, grasping at his arm for balance. “I’ve got you, Maggie.” His voice sounded so far away, but she could feel the rumbles through his chest as he spoke.
She heard Spencer’s voice again, angry and insistent, then another voice - Jake’s, she thought -warning him off. It was all becoming harder to process. Suddenly they seemed to be moving quickly. Every now and then Michael would bark an order. There were bright flashes of lights, then darkness.
Chapter Eighteen
Maggie felt like she was trying to swim in mud. Nothing was working the way she wanted it to. She tried to open her eyes, but she couldn’t see clearly. Everything was dark and murky. Every now and then there would be a slight hint of light – like someone shining a flashlight through dirty water, but no clear shapes or images. Sounds, too, were muffled. Low ones, high ones, even rhythmic ones. Maggie had the vague impression of voices and machines – all constant, and all unintelligible.
She wasn’t warm anymore; she was very cold. Her body might have been shaking, it was hard to tell. Beneath her was something flat and hard. Cool air blew over her skin – where were her clothes? She was moving – no, someone was moving her. There was intermittent pressure on her arms, her legs. Something cold on her chest. Then the horrible feeling of someone putting something in her mouth. She began to fight it.
“I think she’s coming around.”
Whatever it was being shoved into her mouth was pulled away. Incredible warmth flooded her shoulders as two large hands rested over them. “Maggie, can you hear me, sweetheart?” That was Michael’s voice. She wanted to answer, but she couldn’t. Nothing was working. Why wasn’t anything working?
There were several murmurs; she couldn’t understand much. Someone was sticking something into her arm. She started fighting again. “Maggie.” Michael’s voice, more urgent this time. “Don’t fight this, baby. I’ve got you. Everything is going to be alright.”
She calmed for a moment at the sound of his voice. Her head turned slightly in his direction.
“She hears you, Doctor,” said another voice. “Keep talking, maybe I can get a line in.”
A line? What the hell were they talking about? And where the hell was she? Who were these people?
“Maggie, you are in the emergency room of the Pine Ridge Medical Center. You collapsed at the reception. We’re going to take care of you, sweetheart.” Michael’s voice was soothing, but his words terrified her. A hospital? No! She started fighting again.
“Maggie. Calm down. I’ve got you, baby.”
“No!” She forced a scream, it came out more like a rasping shriek. With everything she had she tried to sit up, to turn, to do something. She had to get out, had to get out now. Panic gripped her heart and it was hard to breathe.
Strong hands pressed down on her shoulders, her arms, her legs. “Maggie! Maggie, stop. It’s okay.”
* * *
He tried to keep his voice even, but it was difficult. She was panicking, terrified, and it was ripping him apart inside.
“Doctor?!”
“Use the restraints. I want her out, now.”
For one horrible moment, Maggie seemed to look right at him, but it quickly became apparent she could not see him. “Michael, no, please, don’t do this...” She started sobbing hysterically.
The others looked to him for direction, hesitant to do anything that might land them in a lawsuit. Providing emergency care in a life or death situation was one thing, but she appeared to be out of the woods and there was no doubt she did not want this. Rendering care to an adult against his or her wishes was against policy, no matter how much they might want to help. Unfortunately healthcare had become more about litigation than doing what was best for the patient.
Cold, icy fear continued to claw at his chest. Michael had seen his share of blood, but the trickles from Maggie’s nose, eye, and ear terrified him more than any other. He had held her tightly in his arms as Jake rushed them to the hospital. At first she was disoriented, but at least she seemed to recognize him on some level. Then she’d been totally unresponsive, limp in his arms. Now she was coming out of it, struggling and terrified.
He cursed himself repeatedly. He had known something was wrong. He had ignored his instincts, afraid of alienating her. Now he prayed fervently that it was not too late, because he would do anything to ensure that she was okay, even if it meant she hated him.
There was no question, though, as far as Michael was concerned. He had no choice whatsoever, not anymore. His inaction might have already cost Maggie her sight, and with or without her permission, he was going to make damn sure she didn’t lose anything else.
“Get out, all of you,” he ordered, his voice brooking no argument. He saw the relief, the uncertainty in their eyes, but they did as he said. All except one nurse, who had worked with Michael on a number of occasions. Michael acknowledged her with a brief but grateful nod.
“Jake,” Michael barked. “Get over here and secure her.” Maggie felt instant, rolling pressure, then she was completely unable to move. “Nancy, call Radiology and tell them we’re on our way up. Full head series, stat.”
Maggie was reduced to whimpers, little cries that br
oke Michael’s heart. “Sweetheart, sshhh, I’m going to make you sleep now, sweetheart. I promise, I won’t leave you.” There was the sharp prick of a needle in her arm, then Maggie knew no more.
“You saved her life,” Lexi said quietly.
Michael didn’t respond. He checked the monitors for the hundredth time. Adjusted the I.V. lines. Tucked the blankets in a little more snugly around her.
“You didn’t have a choice, Michael. She’ll understand that.”
Michael smoothed the hair back from Maggie’s head, wondering how much longer he’d have the privilege of doing so. How much longer would he be able to hold her hand, whisper soothing words into her ear? How long before she told him to get out of her life and never come back?
He thought about it, and knew that he’d make the same decision every time. Yes, she’d hate him. But maybe someday she’d find it in her heart to forgive him. He could live with that. If he had chosen to respect her wishes, he’d be making funeral arrangements.
The neurosurgeon had been very explicit. Had the smaller of the two hematomas not burst first, Maggie wouldn’t have had a chance. At least this way they’d found the second, and had been able to take care of it before it came to that. The specialist had not failed to point out, however, that had she come in earlier, they would have been able to prevent both.
Michael hoped Lexi was right, but his gut told him otherwise.
“There is no improvement, Michael,” the neurosurgeon said, clicking off his silver penlight and slipping it back into his front pocket.
Maggie didn’t flinch. She was as still as marble, no expression on her face, yet Michael felt her disappointment keenly, as if his heart was linked directly to hers.
“Prognosis?”
The surgeon checked his watch. Michael had always respected James Roberts for his unparalleled skill with a scalpel. The other man’s coldness hadn’t registered before. Was this how physicians came across to most people, he wondered? Impersonal, unaffected, uncaring?
“Hard to say. Vision may return as the swelling recedes.”
“What do we do now?”
Roberts was already at the door. He hadn’t spoken once to Maggie, other than to issue short commands. “She can go. I’ve already signed the discharge papers. No heavy lifting, no bending. Have her schedule an appointment with my office for a post op in two weeks.”
Michael placed his hand on the door, preventing the other man from leaving. “That’s it?”
The other man looked slightly annoyed. “I am due in surgery in five minutes.” When Michael pinned him with an unwavering stare, the man sighed. “I wish I could be more optimistic, Michael, but you of all people know that there are no guarantees. There’s a chance, that’s all the hope I can give you. I’m sorry.”
Michael let him leave, resting his head for a moment on the door. It was not what he wanted to hear.
He turned his eyes to Maggie. She looked so fragile, so small there in that hospital bed, pale skin against the stark white coverings. She was unnaturally still, staring at the hands in her lap with unseeing eyes, broken. His chest ached.
Somehow, he would find a way to make her whole again.
“Looks like you’re good to go,” he said, forcing a cheerfulness into his voice he did not feel. “I’ll call Ian while you get dressed, have him meet us at your place.” Ian and Lexi had volunteered to take care of George while Maggie was in the hospital. Their son, Patrick, had fallen in love with the Bassett at first sight.
Maggie had yet to speak to him since waking up. She had answered some basic questions in the recovery room, enough for them to know that her speech and mental functions were intact, but had been silent since. He wished she would yell at him, scream at him, vent the frustration and anger and fear he knew she was feeling on him. He would bear it, he would take it all, gladly. But she didn’t. She remained silent, stoic, refusing to acknowledge him.
She was almost dressed when he returned, finishing the last of the buttons on her shirt. He looked around, gathering the few personal items he’d brought for her – her hairbrush, her toothbrush, the flannel shirt she wore at night, now folded neatly and placed off to the side. She’d refused to wear it, opting for the backless hospital gown instead. It hurt more than he cared to admit.
A nurse came in with a wheelchair. Michael guided Maggie into it, though she pulled away at the first possible moment. “I’ll take her from here, Sally, thanks.”
They drove to her house in silence. When they arrived, he noticed that the walks and driveway had been cleared. All the logs had been split and were stacked neatly off the porch. A roaring fire blazed in the hearth, the inside of the house was warm. The refrigerator was freshly stocked with prepared meals, enough for a week at least. Michael was so thankful for his family.
* * *
“Who did all this?” Maggie asked quietly, not needing her sight to know that she hadn’t had to trudge through snow, that her house was warm and filled with the scents of food. She knew it wasn’t Michael. He hadn’t left her side for the past three days.
“Lexi and Taryn did the inside stuff. My brothers took care of the outside.”
Maggie felt the walls starting to crumble. It had been much easier when she was in the hospital. That was such a cold, sterile place, filled with professional strangers. This was her home. And Michael’s family had come out and done all this.
“Please thank them for me.”
“You can thank them yourself.”
She felt his hand at her back, hating it and loving it at the same time. One part of her longed for him to hold her in his arms until she forgot everything else; to make love to her until nothing else mattered. But at the same time, another part of her wanted nothing to do with him. He had done the one thing she could not forgive: he had taken away her choice.
Decision made, she stepped away from his touch.
“Thanks for bringing me home.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’d like you to leave now.”
* * *
Michael’s jaw clenched. For one brief, hopeful moment, she looked as if she might have been softening toward him, but then her features hardened again and she moved away.
“I don’t think so.”
She sighed, as if it was no less than she had expected. With one hand on the wall, she proceeded slowly down the hallway, just like she had that first night he’d brought her home. Except then he’d been tingling with the first indications that he had found something special, with anticipation that life was going to change for him.
That night, she had seemed pleasantly surprised by his desire to care for her. Now, that same desire had erected a huge wall between them, one that he wasn’t sure he would be able to find his way over.
Instead of continuing into the kitchen like she had then, Maggie went for the stairs. She took them slowly, one at a time. At the top she turned left, entered her bedroom, and closed the door.
Michael exhaled heavily. This was not going to be easy.
“She’ll come around, Michael,” Taryn said, patting his arm. They were sitting at Maggie’s kitchen table, drinking coffee. Taryn had brought over more meals, though there was more than enough in the fridge. Maggie was eating even less than before, and Michael couldn’t seem to summon much of an appetite either.
“The only time she leaves her room is when she thinks I’ve gone outside,” he said, the sadness in his voice unmistakable. “It’s gotten so that I open and close the door, then sit off to the side, just to see her. She hasn’t spoken to me since I brought her home.”
Taryn was quiet for a few minutes. “Maybe you should give her some space, Michael.”
“I don’t want her to be alone.”
“I know. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but ... if Jake hadn’t let me go, I never would have had the chance to realize how much I loved him. I think Lexi would say the same thing about Ian.” She paused, letting that sink in.
Michael shook his head
. “I don’t think I can do that.”
“I don’t know that you have a choice.”
The next day, Michael knocked softly on Maggie’s bedroom door. He tried the knob, found it unlocked. Opening the door slowly, he asked, “Mind if I come in?”
Maggie sat on her bed, George in her lap. She didn’t protest, so he took a step inside.
He cleared his throat. “Maggie, I’m, uh, leaving. I left a cell phone on the kitchen table if you need anything, anything at all. Taryn says you should call if you want to talk.”
She might have nodded slightly, he couldn’t be sure.
“Maggie, I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me. I hope you can, someday. If you do, I’ll be waiting, forever if I have to. But I’m not sorry, and you need to know that I’d do the same thing again in a heartbeat. I love you, Maggie. I can live with you hating me, but I don’t think I could live in a world without you in it.”
He turned and left then, closing the door quietly behind him.
* * *
Maggie heard the front door close. Heard the rumble of his truck starting up and driving away.
Then there was silence.
And Maggie cried.
Chapter Nineteen
Hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks. There were a few more snows before the weather began to grow warmer. Maggie’s vision had improved slowly but steadily. After two months it was close to normal.
She hadn’t bothered making follow up appointments with the neurosurgeon; she wouldn’t have gone anyway. She couldn’t drive. Her pride and stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to ask anyone for help, even though someone called at least once every day to see if they could do anything, to ask if she needed anything. She appreciated their offers, but each one only reminded her of how much she’d lost. She even stopped answering the phone after a while, letting their well-intentioned calls go directly to the machine.
It was more than stubborn pride that kept her from visiting the specialist. The man was cold, about as caring as a block of ice. She already knew he could do nothing more for her. Any improvement would not be because of anything he could do.
House Calls: Callaghan Brothers, Book 3 Page 14