by DB Michaels
“Let him go?” How dare she? “Have you spoken to a neurosurgeon yet?”
“Yes. He said he can operate but it’s pretty risky. Your father may die on the table.”
“But without the surgery, he’s going to die anyway.” Maxim clenched his fists. “I want the surgery. It’s his only chance.”
“Are you sure? Your father is very sick already.” Dr. Washington, fool that she was, didn’t seem to comprehend him. “Think about his quality of life. It’s best to make him comfortable.”
“Please get out.” Maxim gripped the gurney’s railing. “Call the neurosurgeon. I want to talk to him.”
“Surgery won’t help in the big picture,” the stubborn doctor insisted.
“I said get out!” A red mist grew over his vision. Maxim picked up a nearby vase and before he knew it, it was on the floor, smashed to smithereens. His father moaned and twisted his head from side to side. Maxim rushed over. “Sorry, Pops. It was only a vase.” He leaned over and brushed a hand over his father’s cheek.
An ER tech in blue scrubs flung open the door. “Is everything okay in here?”
“Yes.” Emma shot him a worried look. “The vase got knocked over. Could you help clean it up?”
Maxim turned back to his father. His old man kept twisting his head from side to side. “It’s okay, Pops. I’m here. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” Not anymore. He was going to protect his father at all cost. A brief memory of that night fifteen years ago flashed before his eyes. He could still see the two men in black masks as they pulled out their guns.
“Maybe we can get him some extra morphine,” someone said from across the room.
Emma was still there; they were alone. The damned ER doctor must have finally listened to him and left. And the floor was clean again.
“He seems to be calming down,” Emma said, her voice soft. She brushed a gentle finger down his father’s arm. Something squeezed hard at Maxim’s chest. She was so kind and patient. And lovely. He didn’t deserve her compassion, big brute that he was. How could he have lost his temper like that?
“It’s tough when someone you love is sick,” she said, her eyes full of sympathy. “My mom died a few years ago. It still hurts. I carry her picture with me all the time. In this pendant.” Emma showed him her necklace. “It’s hard now but every day the pain eases one tiny bit.”
How did she get to be so wise and brave, this little slip of a woman? Maxim cleared his throat and blinked a couple of times. “He was an amazing father.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could make it better for you somehow.”
“Tell me they can fix his bleed. That’s all I need to know.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Riley is a really good doctor. She only wants what’s best for her patients.”
“You mean Dr. Washington?”
“Yes. She’s my best friend.”
“How could this be happening?” Maxim dragged a hand over his face. “He wasn’t always like this, you know. He was a science professor. His mind was brilliant, full of bright ideas.”
“What happened?” Her voice washed over him like a gentle wave.
“Some thieves robbed our house a couple of years after I graduated college, when I was an EMT.” Maxim looked over, not sure if she’d want the whole sordid story. Her eyes were warm and encouraging. “They killed my mom and shot my father in the head. The bullet got the left side of his brain. He became partially paralyzed and mute. Sometimes I think he recognizes me but other times…” Maxim shook his head.
“And he’s been that way since?” Emma nudged him on.
“Yes. That was fifteen years ago.”
“How horrible.”
“Yes.” He dug a hand through his hair. “But you know the worst part? The bastards who shot them are still out there somewhere. I’ve tried to find them so many times but it’s like they disappeared into thin air.”
“The police couldn’t help?”
“They investigated but nothing panned out.” He sighed. “Sometimes I think maybe they’re already caught. That they could be in my prison.”
“Is that why you’re so hard on the inmates?”
“What?” Was that why? He’d never considered it. “Maybe.”
Her eyes shone with compassion. A wave of guilt washed over him. Would she look at him like that if she knew the whole story? He braced himself for her disgust and was about to tell her when Lani came back into the room.
“Hey. How’s it going?” his friend asked, her hands full with Kyle.
“He’s still asleep?”
“Yes. My nanny forgot the key to our house.” Lani sent him an apologetic look. “Do you mind if I go let her in?”
“No. Go ahead.” He pointed to his godson. “He needs to be in his own bed. Your arms are going to fall off if you keep holding him like that.”
“I’ll come right back. My nanny can watch him.”
“Thanks, but you’ve done enough already.” Maxim sent her a grateful smile. Alex sure got lucky in the marriage department. Lani was not only gorgeous but good through and through. Kind of like… Good God. No way was he going to go there.
“Okay, I’ll go but any news yet?” Lani shifted Kyle to her other hip.
“His hip’s broken and…” No need to trouble Lani about the bleed. She’d never get any rest if she knew. “And we’re waiting for another specialist.”
“All right. Text me with any updates. Alex says he’ll call as soon as he lands back in LA tomorrow.” Lani turned toward the doctor and smiled. “It was nice meeting you, Dr. Edwards. Hopefully, we’ll meet again soon.”
“Please, call me Emma. They only call me Doctor at work.”
“Thanks. Bye, Emma.” Lani left with a friendly nod.
Emma. The name suited her. Short and sweet. Maxim shook his head, knowing the futility of his thoughts. She was his employee and strictly off-limits. And yet right now with his father deathly ill, he didn’t give a damn about policy. He couldn’t imagine going through this ordeal without her.
“She seems really nice. I take it the boy is your godson?” Emma asked, looking slightly bemused for some reason. “You’re pretty good with kids, you know that?”
“They’re much simpler than adults.” Maxim walked back to the bed. His father’s mouth was open and his breathing slow but regular. He glanced at his watch. Thirty minutes already and still no neurosurgeon.
“Let me check if someone’s coming,” Emma said.
Amazing. She was reading his thoughts. Which didn’t bode well for his peace of mind. Luckily the neurosurgeon came in at that moment, a short, older man with white hair and a long mustache. Maxim’s heart thundered. Please, let it be good news. Please say they can operate.
“I’m Dr. Barrymore.”
Maxim shook his hand. There was nothing but grimness on the other man’s face.
“I’m sorry but we had a second neuroradiologist review your dad’s CT.” The doctor tugged at his mustache. “The blood is actually not only in the cerebrum but progressing into the brainstem also. I’m afraid we can’t operate.”
“How long does he have?” Maxim forced out.
“Hours. Maybe a day at most.”
Maxim seized the bedrail. A cold sweat broke over him. The neurosurgeon said something else and left. Hours. Only hours. How could this be happening? He touched his father’s face and felt some wetness on his fingers. Was his old man crying? But no. His father’s cheeks were dry. And his leg still lay twisted. Should they turn him on his side? He’d always liked looking out the window and maybe he’d be more comfortable that way.
God. Pops looked so broken. Frail and almost lifeless. Maybe he’d died all those years ago. And it had been all Maxim’s fault. Why hadn’t he locked the door that night? His parents were always reminding him to lock up after himself but he’d been in a hurry. Rushing to a party. Concentrating on having fun as usual when his parents were left alone with their door unlocked. The thieves had entered right
through the door. It was almost as if he had fired the gun himself. What kind of stupid idiot son would do that to his own parents?
It was all his fault. If only he’d come home sooner. If only he’d locked the door. He had killed both his parents that day. And no matter how many criminals he locked up, how many bad guys he punished, it was never going to be enough. His parents were never coming back. Oh, God. Maxim fell to his knees and let out a howl of rage.
Suddenly gentle arms wrapped around him as a sweet rosewater scent filled his nostrils. Emma hovered next to him, her beautiful face lined with concern. He didn’t deserve her sympathy, but he couldn’t help himself. She was his savior. The one light shining in his dark world. He buried his face in her abdomen, unable to control the violent sobs that racked through his body.
***
Emma brushed a hand through Maxim’s wavy hair, surprised at how soft it felt. There were sprinkles of gray at the temples but for the most part his hair was as glossy black as her bird’s. The familiar scent of coffee with a hint of spice emanated from him. She clasped him to her, knowing how hard it was to lose a parent, even when death had been expected for a long time. The poor man. If only she could offer some comfort. The warmth of his embrace enveloped her and Emma pulled him closer.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Just let it out. It’s okay.”
“It’s never going to be okay.” Maxim’s body shuddered. “I killed them that day. It was my fault.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t lock the front door.” His face was racked with guilt. “The robbers had free entrance. I might as well have pulled the trigger myself.”
“How can you say that? It’s not your fault.” Emma cupped his face between her hands. “The robbers killed your parents. You had nothing to do with it.”
“How can you be so forgiving?” Maxim’s silver eyes locked with hers.
How could she ever have thought him cold and unfeeling? His eyes shimmered with tears. He brushed them away and caressed her cheek with the pads of his fingers. Her face tingled. She leaned in, mesmerized by the tender look on his face. She touched the short bristles on his chin and bent her head closer. He sucked in an audible breath, tightening his arms around her before suddenly pushing her away.
“Sorry. I need a moment,” he said, his voice hoarse. He stumbled to the nearest window and stared out into the dark night, his hand clenched.
Oh my God. She’d almost kissed him. What was wrong with her? The man was wallowing in grief and she was coming on to him. How could she have been so foolish? He was her boss, and she best remember that. Maxim’s face was stiff and formal again when he turned back. Good. It was better to keep things platonic between them.
“Do you think they can turn my father toward the window?” he said, avoiding her eyes. “He needs his brown pajamas also. They’re his favorite. And I need Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass.”
“Leaves of Grass?” Emma asked, wondering at the choice.
“That’s his favorite book. I need to read it to him.”
Of course she agreed to assist. If only she could do more. Maxim didn’t break down again. For the most part he remained polite yet distant. Still, Emma couldn’t believe she’d once thought him a brute. Underneath that fierce exterior beat a vulnerable heart. How glad she was to have caught a glimpse of the tender man inside.
In the end, an aide from the nursing home brought over the book and helped put on his father’s brown pajamas. They turned his father toward the window, making sure the old man’s bad leg didn’t get in the way. Emma took over reading Leaves of Grass when Maxim’s eyes drifted shut toward the early hours of the morning.
Maxim’s father passed away as dawn broke through the horizon. Emma woke Maxim up when she knew the end was near. The old man’s breaths had become more agonal and labored. His hands were cooler to the touch. His eyes drifted open as the sun’s early rays filtered through the window. Maxim held his father’s hand while Emma stood close by, gazing out at the dawn. As the old man exhaled his last breath, a cloud of blackbirds flew over the sky.
Chapter 16
“Dr. Edwards.” Dr. Kaye’s shrill voice jolted Emma out of her slump. “Wake up.”
“Sorry.” Emma rubbed a hand over her weary eyes. She might have drifted off for a few seconds there; she wasn’t quite sure. She gave a self-conscious smile. The other doctors were shooting her concerned looks from across the table. “I had a really long night.”
“Then maybe you should have stayed home,” Kaye said, tapping her pen.
“Yes. Sorry.” She rubbed her neck and tried to stretch her stiff shoulders. She’d gotten home an hour ago from the hospital. Maxim had stayed behind to take care of the morgue arrangements. Emma had been tempted to stay home but the fresh memory of Cavendish’s attack was too raw to ignore. She needed to know how he was doing. And maybe she could discuss the attack with the doctors instead of going straight to Maxim. The poor man had enough on his plate at the moment without her bothering him. He’d probably take at least a week off. Which made it only more imperative that she tell Kaye or Julien now rather than wait.
So she related to them what had happened with the cigarettes. Including how she’d arranged for Cavendish’s move and how afraid he’d been of retaliation.
“It’s not your fault,” Bryce Churchill reassured her immediately when she was done. “They’re always fighting around here. Somebody’s bound to get hurt.”
“And maybe it wasn’t even about the cigarettes,” Dr. Parker pointed out. “Could be Cavendish owing some money. And his guy got tired of waiting.”
“Or maybe Cavendish did something really bad to one of the other inmates,” Dr. Pan chimed in.
“You never know,” Dr. Yee said. “Cavendish could be lying about the whole thing and only wanted to get moved. Maybe he didn’t like his bunkies.”
“What are you talking about?” Why were they so dismissive? “He had an asthma attack. It was bad. I saw it.”
“We know,” Dr. Ross said. “But what triggered it? Was it really cigarette smoke?”
“Or maybe he himself was smoking,” Dr. Tran said.
“And lied about the bathroom smoke just to get moved,” someone else added.
“Lied about it? Why would he do that?” Emma shook her head, mystified. How could they not feel sorry for the guy? He was beat up because he’d snitched. She was sure of it.
“Because he’s an inmate.” Dr. Kaye shrugged her shoulders. “They make up things all the time. So the guy was beat up. Who cares? Custody will deal with it. It’s out of our hands.”
“They almost killed him,” Emma insisted. “All because he told me about the cigarettes. And why are they even smoking in here? I thought it was illegal.”
“It is.” Julien leaned back in his chair. “But sometimes Custody doesn’t catch them doing it. Or they look the other way.”
“But that’s wrong.” Emma took in a deep breath. “Cavendish’s asthma almost killed him. They should enforce the rules more.”
“We’re in a prison.” Dr. Kaye’s sneer was ever present. “Inmates are going to do what they’re going to do. They’re criminals. They can’t help themselves. They lie, they cheat, they steal, they smoke and do drugs, they fight. It’s in their nature. You can’t change it. Just accept it.”
“I can’t accept that.” Emma half-rose from her seat. “Criminals can change. They can rehabilitate. And I’m sure Cavendish didn’t lie to me. We have to help him somehow.”
“You did,” Julien said gently. “You sent him to the hospital. Come on, Emma. You can only do so much. You can’t fix the system.”
The meeting disbanded soon after. Emma found herself in an empty room, too exhausted to move, both physically and emotionally. So none of them believed Cavendish. He was an inmate, so he was lying. And even if he were telling the truth, who cared, right? Inmates got hurt. They fought, they killed each other. What did you expect?
“U
gh….” Emma groaned. What was she going to do? What hope was there for Sam if he was judged only by the color of his uniform?
How she hated the blind prejudice so prevalent against inmates. There was nothing to do except pack her materials together and head down the hill for another day in the Urgent Care. Her friend Phineas was fanning his feathers and belting out another song on her way down. On-ke-kaaangh. On-ke-kaaangh. His sharp eyes darted her way and then homed in on a caterpillar crawling on an outreaching branch. Snap! He gobbled up his breakfast in one go.
Where is your colony, little one? Had he belonged to that cluster of blackbirds that had flown over the hospital earlier this morning? If so, he was really far from his family, like most of the inmates here. How many of the prisoners would love to fly away and join their family?
Urgent Care proceeded briskly as usual. She didn’t have time to talk with Sam and only managed a brief glance to make sure he was doing okay. Dr. Ross had to attend his annual safety training, so Emma was left to hold up the fort. Half yawning, she managed to wade through three upper respiratory infections, two ankle sprains, a wrist injury, one abscess, an ingrown toenail, two cases of gastroenteritis, and a chest pain. She also spoke to Mr. Nash, making sure his pain was adequately controlled. The man inquired about his compassionate release and she reminded herself to ask Maxim next time she saw him.
Maxim. If she concentrated hard enough, she could conjure up his wonderful spicy coffee bean scent. She remembered the soft bristles on his face, the tender look in his eyes. Had he gotten any sleep yet? When was the funeral? Was he handling it okay on his own? They’d bonded during the night. How she longed to see him again all of a sudden.
Before she left, the Urgent Care nurses informed her that Cavendish had had a chest tube placed and had suffered some broken facial bones but otherwise was going to survive. His ear had been repaired. He was admitted to the trauma unit but they expected him to be released soon to the administrative segregation unit over at Chino to protect him from being beaten again. Good. At least it was something. As for finding the assailants and bringing them to justice, Custody told her they could only charge the men if Cavendish pointed out who they were. And knowing how he feared for his life, Emma doubted there was going to be anyone charged.