Ardent Strangers

by Samantha Kately

  I look at the notepad and the pen twitching in her hand. My gaze shifts to Nathaniel, thinking of his pleas to follow. “I’ll go with him.”

  She looks surprised.

  I jump into the back of the ambulance. Nathaniel has decided to co-operate, answering Greg’s questions about whom to contact. Rebecca shuts the back doors and disappears. The ambulance revs and we are moving, and for the first time I feel as if everything might be alright, that I might get the chance to know this man lying before me.

  Nathaniel peers up at the roof, blinks, then sees me out of the corner of his eye.

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” I whisper, squeezing his hand.

  “So am I,” he mumbles. His eyes drift closed and open, fixing on mine each time, each time more heartbreaking than before. I lightly stroke the hair back from his face, crossing some personal boundary I probably shouldn’t cross, but I don’t care. He turns his cheek into my hand and stares up at me—something that my mother could never do when I’d stroked her face that last time. I’m about to start sobbing at any minute. I’m saved by the ambulance’s arrival at the hospital—the rear doors slamming open and new medical staff wheeling Nathaniel’s stretcher into the Emergency Rooms, me rushing to keep up with him, never letting go of his hand.

  It’s hours later when I awake. I wince, realizing that my bed is actually a row of plastic chairs that are digging painfully into my arms and ribs. Everything aches.

  I’d been determined to stay with Nathaniel until he’d woken up, but the doctors soon relegated me to the hallway. Eventually, the police had arrived to take my version of events, which had drawn more than a few raised eyebrows. My account was apparently too far-fetched to be plausible. When they’d asked for my details I’d feared they were going to section me into the ward right alongside Nathaniel. Thankfully, Greg O’Neil happened to be walking by and came to my rescue—again—the ambulance officer affirming my story and my sanity all at once. The sheer relief in my smile must have been ridiculous for Greg patted me on the back, then chuckled as he exited down the hallway. I’d sat in the chair closest to Nathaniel’s room, conscious of his surly security agent standing in front of the door, shifting grumpily as doctors and nurses exited and re-entered the room. When exactly I’d fallen asleep I’m not sure, but at one point someone had draped a stiff cotton blanket over me. My skimpy monstrosity of a dress must be too inappropriate for a hospital hallway.

  Seeing Nathaniel’s security guy, I jump into sitting position. He eyes me darkly as he shuffles in front of the door, guarding it from who knows whom—possibly me. It’s the liveliest I’ve seen Agent Randall since he introduced himself in a half-grunt back at the Emergency Rooms and escorted a sleeping Nathaniel to a private ward.

  As another nurse exits, I’m positive Nathaniel must be awake. Without thinking, I reach for the door handle beside me, only to be swatted away by a scowling Agent Randall. Grumbling, I slump back in my chair. I feel restless. I need proper noise, to hear a voice—preferably Nathaniel’s voice. But no, the ward is dimly lit throughout the nightshift, and apart from the serious tone of medical equipment beeping it’s way too quiet. Bleary eyed, I look up at the clock and swear its big black numbers are laughing at me, telling me its 5:53am.

  One encounter with Nathaniel Blake and the night disappears completely!

  As the nurse re-enters the room, I hear Nathaniel, “Is Evangeline still here?”

  The door slams closed.

  I’m here! I want to scream as I leap toward the door. The brick that is Agent Randall looms over me like a master assassin and bars the way. Stupidly, I try to move past him and practically bounce off the guy—he is that solid, that tall. The man has to be 6’4” easy, and the most intimidating person in all of mankind.

  “Please,” I beg, tilting my head to stare up into his big hazel eyes and rugged face, which could be handsome on a happier man. It appears he’s a stubborn man, too, for he’s clearly not swayed by my begging. He stares down at me, his nostrils flaring with what I believe to be unreasonable anger. I whisper, “He wants to see me.”

  “Step away or sit back down, but don’t even think about trying that again. Understand?” he says, his English accent less cultured at the crack of dawn.

  “But—”

  I’m silenced by another one of Agent Randall’s dark looks, and I decide I really dislike this guy with his crisp suit and dark knotted ponytail—the only bit of rebellion I’ve seen from him.

  I slump into my chair, imagining Nathaniel’s disappointment when he decides I’ve forgotten him. And god, I haven’t. I’m the one who told him to hope on that bridge. I feel as if I promised to show him the world.

  Agent Randall scowls as the door swings open and he’s forced aside. Not that Doctor Brown notices as he steps into the hallway and pulls the door shut, removing his spectacles. As I approach the good doctor it’s as if I’m bracing to hear a diagnosis about a family member, not somebody I’ve known a few short hours. But somehow Mr. Blake has already wormed his way into my life.

  “Evangeline?” Doctor Brown says quietly.

  I hug the blanket to me. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s asking for you.”

  Agent Randall cuts between us. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Mr. Blake is not in his right mind.”

  What the…? Agent Randall is protecting me over his boss. Weird.

  “I will escort Miss…” Agent Randall frowns.

  “Lockhart,” I assist.

  “Miss Lockhart.” He nods, then eyes the doctor.

  Doctor Brown stands tall, while favoring his right leg. “Don’t let my limping leg fool you. I assure you that I’m perfectly capable of escorting Miss Lockhart into Mr. Blake’s room. And I imagine you’ll be of more use out here. I’ve received word that the press has already caught wind of Mr. Blake’s presence here. Security has turned away twenty-five reporters in the past hour alone.”

  “I’m well aware of the situation, thank you, Doctor,” Agent Randall snaps.

  No way can I see Nathaniel liking something this private splashed over the newspapers and screens across the globe. How did they find out about it? No one was there other than me. Which leaves one of the hospital staff… Bastards.

  As the bold doctor steers me through the door, Agent Randall growls as I pass—it’s a slightly satisfying sound now that I’m going against his orders. A second later that same growl leaves me weirdly disturbed as I step into the alcove of a private suite and the doctor shuts the door, shutting out the worried gaze of Agent Randall.

  Sitting in the corner, a male psych nurse looks up from his paperwork and nods to us. The fact that they’ve assigned such a hefty no-nonsense nurse only adds weight to Nathaniel’s condition. The doctor rounds the corner wall and I force myself to follow.

  It’s as if I’ve stepped into a dimly lit hotel room, with a table and chairs by the window, two new recliners, and small abstract canvases on each wall. But what really catches my eye is the double bed sitting at the far wall and the man asleep under a mess of blond hair. How many drugs have they’ve pumped into him so far? Would he even care that I’m here?

  I take a calming breath. No. Agent Randall has me worried for nothing.

  Doctor Brown whispers, “You can rest in that chair until he wakes up.” He directs me to a big green armchair near the bed and it takes me a moment before I find the courage to sit down. “Frank will be here if you need anything,” he says, nodding toward the psych nurse. “I have some rounds to do, but I’ll check in soon.”

  Trying to smile, I watch as he exits. Then I’m alone with a stranger who is not quite a stranger. I curl up in the chair, watching Nathaniel turn in his sleep. He winces and mumbles something, but his eyes remain shut. He clenches the bed sheets. It’s as if he’s in the grips of a nightmare, unable to escape.

  I could wake him...

  No. I shouldn’t.

  I cover his hand.

  His fingers weave tightly through mine, star
tling me.

  “Nathaniel?” I whisper.

  He stirs restlessly, then settles onto his side, facing me. With my hand now trapped, I rest my head back on the chair, and it’s not long before I’m slipping into sleep. Nathaniel’s voice pervades my dreams, almost as if we are really speaking. We are in this room—Nathaniel in his bed, me in my chair. Honestly, I’m not sure if I’m awake or asleep; his presence is so vivid.

  “Evangeline,” a man whispers, tapping my shoulder.

  My eyes flash open. Doctor Brown is hovering by my side, gesturing for me to leave. I blink drowsily, taking in the hospital room. Daylight filters around the blinds, trying to cut through the shadows. The bedside clock says it’s 7:30 am. Horrible. I’ve barely slept.

  My hand is still trapped under Nathaniel’s, resting on his chest. He knows I’m here, even if we never had the chance to speak. He knows I never left without saying goodbye.

  Not that this is goodbye. I promised him dinner.

  As the doctor heads toward the door, I find that I’m not ready to leave. With a sigh, I extract my fingers from the hand around mine. I step away from the bed, looking over Nathaniel and his strong outline beneath the sheets. He is no longer tensing in his sleep. His eyelids are soft and peaceful, and I take that memory of him with me as I leave.

  Agent Randall grunts as I shuffle into the hallway—or perhaps his dissatisfaction is directed at the doctor. I ignore the grunt, only to find a man and a woman rising from the chairs, both in business attire. They look as sad as I feel, the woman especially. She wipes at her eyes for a second, then peers down when she sees me. When she lifts her head again, her face is stony, stunning, and those tears I’d seen earlier are drying fast. Her blonde hair is tied in a neat up-do, displaying pearl earrings. Her skirt shows off her slim curves and long legs, accompanied with a white and navy scarf tied artfully over her jacket. It’s shocking how immaculately dressed she is for seven-thirty in the morning.

  The man looks about retirement age, thin spectacles and a grey comb-over that, really, covers very little. My gaze drifts to the thin pile of documents sitting atop his briefcase. There is something very official about this which sends me retreating. I stumble into Agent Randall, who scowls as my army boot comes down hard on his shoe. I swear softly, but he seems unperturbed by my language, grabbing me by the arms and plonking me onto the solid floor beside him.

  “Evangeline? I’m Laura Barnes,” she introduces in a classy New York accent, “Mr. Blake’s legal advisor. And this is Roger Wainwright, another associate of mine…”

  The man nods with a morbid air that makes me step back a fraction. I nod politely, but I feel myself slipping into a daze. I’m beyond tired, and incapable of dealing with anymore formalities.

  Laura smiles. “We have some important things to discuss with you. It will only take a minute.”

  “Okay.”

  “Roger and I have spoken with the medical staff and the authorities, and it appears that my employer is in a rather, how shall I put it….fragile state.”

  I nod slowly.

  “We are grateful for your care of Mr. Blake these past few hours,” she begins. “But—”

  “But?”

  “You have to understand that given Mr. Blake’s current mental state, stability and normality are going to be his road back to recovery. He needs his friends and loved ones close by to support him through this difficult time. He—”

  “I’m happy to help him anyway I can,” I say, wondering if she’s not just Nathaniel’s lawyer but a close friend, too.

  Her expression sharpens. “Please, don’t. My colleague and I both believe that it would be detrimental to Mr. Blake’s recovery to have you as a presence in his life.”

  “What?” I breathe. “But I promised to see him again. That’s the reason he got down from—”

  “Think about this. You will be a constant reminder of this night, of the deepest depths that he had reached. He is a proud man. Not to mention he has a certain charm that he likes to flaunt. Therefore, he might have led you to believe that there would be further meetings between the two of you, but that is what Mr. Blake does. Let’s say if he were to keep seeing you, how long do you think it would last?”

  I shrug. I’d never even thought far enough to see a real future with him, but Laura Barnes is trampling over any hope of that dream.

  “Sure, he might be able to pretend for a while, but I know Nathaniel. Each and every time he’d look at you he’d see that girl on the bridge, that girl who saw him in his weakest moments. You would become a constant reminder of that grim night when he thought he’d lost it all. Do you really want to torture him like that? Are you that heartless?”

  Heartless? I hug the blanket to me, so embarrassed that I have to retreat.

  Agent Randall steps up to the couple. He launches into a deep angry whisper that makes my heart ache more. Maybe she’s right. Nathaniel could heal without me. But selfishly I want that dinner he’d insisted upon. There had been an instant change in him when I’d agreed. It had given me hope—that a simple act such as going to dinner could help another, that I might be valuable to someone, that he might be that valuable to me.

  But he’d been drunk.

  He probably doesn’t remember much of our encounter at all.

  I want to leave.

  “Miss Lockhart?” Roger presents me with a clipboard and several typed pages.

  A contract! I scan the print. It’s the worst document I’ve witnessed in my twenty-five years on this planet. My details are already printed: address, mobile number, email, today’s date. All they require is my signature. I shake my head, unable to take the proffered pen in Roger’s wrinkled hand.

  “I can’t,” I say.

  “It is the only noble thing to do,” Roger says.

  “He’s right,” Laura says. “Agree to the terms and Nathaniel will have every chance to recover—”

  “I…” I don’t want to.

  “Understand me, Evangeline. We will take you to court if you refuse to sign this document. Agree never to see or communicate with Mr. Blake again and we will have no reason to pursue the matter. You will agree not to divulge any information to the media or public regarding Mr. Blake. That includes your brief interactions with Mr. Blake, no matter how heroic they were.”

  He’ll think I’ve abandoned him. “But—”

  “No buts. Just sign the document, Miss Lockhart. Nothing more.”

  “No.”

  Her smile clenches. “No?”

  “No,” Agent Randall says, surprising me. “If you don’t want to sign it, Evangeline, don’t.”

  “This doesn’t concern you, Randall,” Laura says.

  Agent Randall stares down at her. “Let’s see how Nathaniel feels about the situation, shall we?”

  “I don’t think he’s up for questions right now. Do you?” Laura’s attention snaps back to me. She takes the pen from Roger and shoves it into my hand. “If you care at all about Mr. Blake’s welfare then you will sign the document and keep your mouth zipped tight. Unless I was right, and you really do want to prolong his agony further? Is that what you want, Miss Lockhart—to make him suffer?”

  I’d never…

  Hand trembling, I clutch the pen and it feels all too large in my hand as it signs my name on the black line. My tears drip onto the page before it is ripped from my hands and into the clutches of Laura Barnes, who then passes it safely into her associate’s briefcase, which snaps shut with a click of finality.

  “No, Evangeline,” Agent Randall gasps, but he is too late.

  Storming up to the towering agent, Laura points at his chest. “As of this moment you are no longer in Mr. Blake’s service. Please leave your post immediately.”

  As she instructs Roger to call one of the other agents on duty, Agent Randall’s jaw locks fiercely. His eyes are a scary kind of dark that has me backing toward the opposite wall. “Excuse me?” the agent says.

  “You interfered not once, not twice, but
three times in the space of five minutes, giving legal counsel that could have had a devastating impact on my employer. And as he is slightly incapacitated at present, as his legal attorney and the company’s HR manager, I have every authority to terminate your contract. Consider yourself fired. We’ll have your bags sent to your new accommodation once you’ve forwarded an address.”

  “You’re kicking me out of my suite? The hotel is completely booked out, and Nathaniel’s house is still under renovations.” Agent Randall tenses. “You—”

  “Now, now. I’m always one to be fair. You can keep the hire car until the end of the day, once you’ve found accommodation. I’ll have someone collect it, and the company cell phone, too. You can keep your return flight ticket back to New York. Consider it a bonus.”

  “It’s the end of my shift and I’m exhausted, and you’re throwing me out onto the sidewalk?”

  “Not my concern. But as it is the end of your shift perhaps you could escort Miss Lockhart home. Her car has been impounded.”

  My car! Great. Just another disaster to add to my day.

  Agent Randall breathes the word, “Bitch,” under his breath and it’s hard not to disagree. In a few short seconds, his life has fallen apart. Because of me. I really need to fix this.

  “Ms. Barnes, please,” I say, hating that I’m begging the woman for anything. “Agent Randall doesn’t deserve this. I signed the contract. Isn’t that enough?”

  She smiles lighter and brighter. “No. He has shown his true colors, and his loyalties obviously don’t lie with Mr. Blake. But if your conscious is struggling with the predicament that Mr. Randall now finds himself in, perhaps you can offer him your place to stay. It will be nice and cozy.” She hugs herself, imitating the way I’ve been hugging the blanket around me since she arrived. It makes me so angry that I say, “Fine. He can stay as long as he damn well likes. He deserves a freaking castle after dealing with the likes of you.”

  “Do you have a castle?” she asks.

  “Well, no. But he has nowhere else now, does he?”