Will and Emma were both on the road to recovery. What more could any of them ask for?
When the hug-frenzy finally died down, Patrick made his excuses.
‘I’d better be getting back to work. Jenny and Mandy will be wanting to know how Emma is. Tell her I’ve been thinking of her and I’m pleased the operation went well.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and although he’d spoken about leaving, he made no attempt to do so.
‘We’ll tell her.’ Flick smiled encouragingly at Patrick. ‘Thanks for being here. I’ll call you later and let you know how she’s doing.’
Patrick gave a nod. ‘Thanks, that would be great.’ And then he left.
Neve was the next to make a move, slightly apologetic about wanting to get back to Will. ‘Can you tell Emma that I’ll visit her tomorrow.’
‘Of course. She’d want you to be with Will,’ Flick reassured her. ‘And anyway, you heard the doctor, we don’t want to tire her with too many visitors today.’
Neve nodded, then hugged Caleb and the twins, before following in the direction Patrick had gone a few moments earlier.
Max, to his credit, summoned the kids (including Toby) and took them down the street to get takeaway for lunch while they waited for Emma to be up to visitors. This left Flick and Seb alone in the hospital waiting room.
‘Do you want to go get some lunch?’ he asked.
Flick shook her head. She was too full with relief to be hungry.
‘Been a crazy couple of weeks, hasn’t it,’ he said, reaching out to take her hand.
‘You can say that again,’ she said, collapsing back into one of the plastic chairs and trying to resist the urge to pull her hand from Seb’s.
Although the worst might be over for Emma and Neve, Flick suspected that her craziness was only just beginning. Her gut still rolled and her palms went clammy every time she thought about the day Toby and Zoe would discover the truth about their dad. Thank God she had a few months’ reprieve now to focus on Zoe’s wedding. A few months to get her head around the future and to garner the courage necessary to face the dramas that undoubtedly lay ahead.
Chapter Forty-nine
Emma
Emma awoke to a room full of flowers and a middle-aged motherly-looking nurse standing beside her bed.
‘Hello love,’ said the nurse, all cheery smiles.
It took a second for her to orientate herself, to remember where she was and why.
The damn tumour.
There’d been lights and voices. A tunnel.
‘Am I alive?’ she whispered to the nurse, her throat parched.
The woman chuckled. ‘Of course you are. Unless this is heaven and I’m an angel, but my husband will tell you I’m definitely not one of those. And if this is heaven, I’ll be extremely disappointed. I was hoping for a place with long, white sandy beaches and lots of clear blue ocean.’ She leaned in closer to Emma. ‘Populated by tall, dark, sexy cabana boys that answer to my every beck and call. You know what I’m talking about, right?’
It was Emma’s turn to chuckle but that only exacerbated her dry throat.
‘Here, let me get you some ice chips to suck on,’ said the nurse, who was apparently a mind reader as well as a comedian.
She retreated and Emma found herself all alone in the small private hospital room. She couldn’t remember waking up in recovery but guessed she must have for them to have brought her up to the ward. How long had she been here? Had she seen her kids yet? Patrick? She racked her brain, trying to remember, but that only made her head hurt. Wanting to check said head, she tried to lift her arm but a tube coming out of her hand hindered her efforts. Dammit. She moaned a little in frustration as the nurse returned to the room.
‘There now,’ she said, rushing over and dumping a plastic container on the adjustable table. ‘Don’t over-exert yourself.’
With the push of a few buttons, the back of the bed raised a little, drawing Emma almost into a sitting position and enabling her to read the name on the nurse’s badge. ‘Daisy’ suited her down to a tee. Daisy spooned a few ice chips from the container into a plastic cup and handed it to Emma.
She took one out and popped it into her mouth. Nothing had ever tasted so good. After a few moments, she felt able to talk again. ‘What time is it?’
Daisy glanced down at her cute little fob watch. ‘It’s almost 7 pm. You woke briefly in recovery but you’ve been asleep ever since. Totally normal after the kind of surgery you’ve just been through. You’ve got quite the fan club waiting out there to see you though. Do you think you’re up for a quick visit?’
Emma’s heart leapt at the thought of seeing her kids. ‘Yes. Definitely. I don’t look too scary, do I?’ After surviving brain surgery, she didn’t care what she looked like but scaring her kids wasn’t something she wanted to do.
Daisy smiled warmly and then conjured two tiny mirrors from one of her pockets. ‘I don’t think your family will give two hoots how you look right now, but I understand you wanting to present your best for that spunky hubby of yours. Here you go.’ She held the mirrors up in a way that gave Emma a full view of the wound site.
‘Husband?’ She screwed up her nose. The side of her head looked more like a medieval dungeon—all dried blood and metal staples—than a human body part.
Daisy put the mirrors back into her pocket. ‘Tall, dark, broad-shouldered … looks a little like Russell Crowe. Ring any bells?’ She chuckled. ‘I like that rugged look, a man that looks like a man if you know what I mean.’
Emma smiled—Daisy’s description of Max couldn’t have been more perfect. And he had the celebrity arrogance to go with it. ‘That’s my ex. You’re welcome to him. Although his new child-bride might have something to say about that.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Daisy’s eyes popped wide. ‘He’s been demanding to know when he could see you… I just assumed.’
‘It’s fine.’ She supposed she should be grateful that Max had come to the party to look after and support the kids, and then she thought otherwise. They were his children as well, after all. This was half her problem, she realised suddenly—even before they were divorced, she made excuses for him being a workaholic mostly absent dad and had taken it upon herself to be both parents. She’d taken it upon herself to be everything for everyone. No more.
With near-death came a clarity of mind she’d never had before.
‘Do you want to see him then?’ Daisy asked.
Emma sighed. Four people had been on her mind as she’d drifted in and out of consciousness these past few hours and Max wasn’t one of them. She didn’t have the energy or inclination to deal with him right now. ‘Would it cause you a huge problem if I said no?’
‘Not at all. You are my patient and keeping you healthy and happy is my priority,’ Daisy said, but then she frowned. ‘Only problem is I’m only supposed to allow you two visitors at a time and you have three children desperate to see you. If I let them all in at the same time, you have to promise not to tell a soul.’
Emma smiled. She liked this woman immensely. ‘The secret’s safe with me.’
‘In that case, I’ll be right back.’
As Daisy left the room, Emma sucked on another ice cube and tried to position her head so that her wound wouldn’t be the first thing the kids laid eyes on. She was quite proud of the battle scar—it was proof she’d had brain surgery and lived to tell the tale! No doubt Caleb would delight in the gruesomeness of it all, but neither of the girls liked blood and gore. However, covering the monstrosity was impossible. They’d had to cut and shave off half her hair for the operation. Strangely, this didn’t cause her the pain and anguish she’d imagined it would.
‘Mum!’ The moment the door opened again, her three most favourite voices in the world spoke her favourite word in unison. She grinned as her children rushed at her, not hesitant about all the tubes and stuff as an adult might have been.
Happy tears streamed down Laura’s face as she practically climbed onto the bed an
d snuggled in beside Emma. Louise, also tearful, took a position on the other side and Emma didn’t care one iota about feeling squashed. Caleb’s eyes were red, indicating he’d been through all the emotions today, but he wasn’t crying now. He stood right next to the bed and grasped her hand.
‘Hello, my darlings,’ she said, emotion pooling in the back of her throat. When she’d gone under earlier that day, her greatest fear had not been getting her skull cut open but that something might go wrong and she might never see these three special people grow up.
‘It’s good to see ya, Mum.’ Caleb grinned, then nodded to her head. ‘You’re going to have an awesome scar.’
‘Ew.’ Laura pulled back slightly as if she’d only just noticed her mum’s head.
Louise gasped. ‘They’ve taken all your beautiful hair.’
‘Not all of it,’ Emma said, loving the feel of her daughters’ warm bodies pressed against her. ‘And it’ll grow back, although maybe it’s time for a change. This tumour thing could have taken a lot more from me. From us.’
‘I know,’ Laura whispered. ‘Apparently you died for a few moments today.’
Caleb rolled his eyes, his tone condescending. ‘That is not what the doctor said.’
‘I’m pretty sure that’s what he meant,’ Louise added, sticking up for her twin and glaring at her older brother.
Emma smiled; usually their bickering drove her crazy but tonight it was just another beautiful sound she was grateful to be alive to listen to. And she was pretty certain Laura was right. A part of her had died today—it was the only explanation for the light and the voices she could recall with absolute clarity—but it was a part of herself she could do without. The part that lived in constant stress and fear, constant worry that she wasn’t doing enough for her loved ones, constant anxiety over insignificant things such as paying bills and dealing with the day-to-day rigmarole, which left little room for the things that mattered.
Things like spending quality time with family. Things like friendship and love. The latter made her think of Patrick and warmth filled her fluttering heart.
‘The important thing,’ Emma said, ‘is that I’m here now and so are you three. So, no more long faces. Tell me something exciting!’
The girls giggled. Caleb rolled his eyes again but grinned nonetheless. This was something the four of them had shared since the children were very little. A conversation starter to take their minds off whatever was bothering them and to focus on the positive. Emma hadn’t asked this question of them or herself for a long time; another indicator of how lost she’d gotten.
‘Chanel and Dad have been bickering like cats and dogs since we got back from Hawaii,’ Laura announced. ‘I overheard them arguing about having a baby—she wants one and he doesn’t.’
‘Is that right?’ Emma tried to sound interested when in fact she couldn’t care less about what went on between her ex and his new wife anymore.
‘It’s disgusting if you ask me,’ said Louise. ‘He’s too old to have a baby.’
Emma laughed, but then winced because the action made her head hurt.
A frown creased Caleb’s forehead. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ she told him. ‘More than fine.’
At that moment the door opened again and Daisy bustled in carrying a small tray of food. ‘In my experience you’re either famished or not feeling up to food just yet but I bought you a little selection of things just in case. Sorry—nothing exciting. Jelly and watery soup are all they’ll allow until we’ve seen a bowel movement.’
‘Gross,’ Louise exclaimed.
‘Nothing gross about bodily functions,’ Daisy said, placing the tray on the adjustable table.
Emma’s stomach rumbled as she looked down at the meal but a yawn escaped her mouth at the same time. Fatigue overcame her again and she wasn’t sure she had the energy to eat.
Daisy checked her fob watch. ‘All right kids, time to give Mum some more rest.’
The girls groaned but Caleb nodded, a glimpse of maturity shining through in his understanding eyes.
‘I’ll see you all tomorrow. After school,’ Emma clarified, in case they thought they could use her as an excuse to solicit more absentee days. ‘Love you all.’
‘Love you too,’ Caleb said, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.
‘Yes, love you, Mum.’ As usual the twins spoke as one and then the three of them trudged reluctantly out of the room. The door swung shut behind them and Daisy smiled.
‘Lovely three you have there. You must be very proud.’
Emma simply nodded as she attempted to lift a spoon and scoop some jelly.
‘I know I just said you need rest but there’s a friend of yours out there who has also been here all day and wonders if she could just pop in for a quick goodnight before you go to sleep again.’
A rush of excitement gave Emma a boost of energy at the mention of a friend, but her pulse slowed again as she registered the she. Some crazy part of her had assumed the friend in question was Patrick. She wanted to see him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life, but she guessed the friend was Flick and despite the exhaustion, she’d like to see her as well.
‘Yes. Please. Send her in,’ Emma said, and then managed a mouthful of jelly.
Daisy retreated again and returned a few moments later with one very harried-looking Flick. Honestly, Emma felt more relaxed than her friend looked.
‘We’ve been so worried about you,’ Flick said, bypassing the formalities. ‘I just had to see you for myself before I went home.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re not in pain?’ Flick asked, taking the seat beside the bed.
Emma shrugged. ‘A little. Tired more than anything. I’m hungry but…’ She sighed as she struggled to lift another spoonful to her mouth.
‘Here, let me.’ Flick leant over and took the spoon from Emma’s hand, proceeding to feed her as if she were a toddler. The old Emma would have refused such help, but the new Emma happily let her friend look after her. She finished the jelly and devoured almost every mouthful of the entirely horrible soup.
‘Neve was here during your operation,’ Flick said as she put the spoon and empty bowl back on the table. ‘She wanted me to give you her love and said she’ll visit tomorrow, but she had to get back to Will.’
Emma nodded. ‘Thank God he’s going to be okay.’
Flick smiled. ‘Thank God you both are. I don’t think I’ve ever been so worried in my life as I have been this past week or so.’
‘You and me both.’ But she didn’t want worry to occupy so much of her time and energy from now on. ‘Do you believe in near-death experiences?’
Flick frowned. ‘I’ve never really thought about it. Why? Do you think you had one?’
‘Something like that. I saw bright lights and then I saw Mum and Grandma and I felt this strange sense of slipping away, but something pulled me back at the last moment.’
‘Good lord! Really?’
‘Yep. It was exactly as they say. My life flashed before me—all the good times and the bad, all the people that mattered and some of those that don’t. Suddenly everything made perfect sense. I want to see Patrick.’
Flick’s lips turned upwards into victory. ‘I knew something was going on between you two. I guess he isn’t gay after all?’
Emma shook her head, unable to stop herself from grinning wildly.
‘He was here most of the day as well,’ Flick said, ‘but he left once we heard you were in recovery. I don’t think he wanted to go, but Max wasn’t particularly welcoming. He made it clear that Patrick should leave this time to your family.’
But Patrick was her family. At least she now knew she wanted him to be.
‘I want to see Patrick,’ she said again.
‘Now?’ Flick frowned and glanced at her watch. ‘But it’s almost the end of visiting hours.
‘I don’t care. I need to see him,’ she insisted. ‘Please, call him and ask him t
o come in. If this whole ordeal has taught me anything it’s that life is for living and I don’t want to waste a second more. I don’t want to live with any regrets. You were right, there is more going on between us. At least I want there to be.’
‘Wow.’ Flick blinked. ‘When you have a near-death experience, you don’t muck around, do you?’
She shook her head and smiled up at her friend.
*
A few hours later, Emma awoke again, this time to a dimly lit room and a shadowy figure sitting beside her bed. For two seconds fear leapt into her throat and then she remembered the request she’d given Flick before saying goodbye.
‘Hello, Emma,’ came the shadow’s deep voice—the same voice that had brought her back from the brink earlier that day.
‘You came?’ she whispered.
‘Of course I did,’ Patrick replied. ‘When Flick called me I drove right in, but you were already asleep when I arrived. The nurse on duty refused me entrance to your room at first, but I can be very persuasive when I want to be.’
A lump swelled in her throat. Oh how she loved the comforting lilt of his deep voice. Patrick had softer edges than Max, but that didn’t make him any less masculine. Any less attractive. She didn’t know how she’d ever convinced herself he was gay; for purely selfish reasons, she was so glad he wasn’t. Despite the fact that she had only half a head of hair and was lying on a hospital bed in the most unsexy nightwear she could possibly imagine, tingles shivered all over her body.
She reached out towards him, a courage she’d never had before springing from deep inside her. ‘I’m glad you came. The only thing that could make me happier would be if you kissed me.’
Patrick let out what sounded like a choked groan. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. I’ve been scared until now, scared of getting hurt, or betrayed or rejected again, but I don’t want to live in fear anymore. I’d rather tell you what I want—which is you—and risk rejection than continue to live the half-life I’ve been living these past few years. So, if you don’t want to kiss me, if you’re appalled by the idea of kissing Frankenstein’s sister, if you don’t have the feelings inside you for me that I have inside me for you, then I’ll—’
The Art of Keeping Secrets Page 36