by Cindi Myers
“TAYLOR, HONEY, sit up and try to eat some toast and drink some of this tea,” Darcy said.
“I don’t want to.”
“Honey, you have to. It’s almost time to take your medicine again.”
“I don’t want to. I’ll just throw up again.” The girl pulled the covers over her head, like a small, burrowing animal retreating from a fox.
Darcy set the tray of tea and toast on the bedside table, fighting despair. If she were at home she’d try to tempt Taylor with Popsicles and cherry Jell-O, or ginger ale and saltines. But she had none of those things in this condo, and no idea where to get them, even if she dared leave Taylor and venture out in this blizzard.
She sat on the side of the bed and patted the Taylor-shaped lump under the blankets. “You have to take your medicine,” she said. “And you can’t do it on an empty stomach. If you have the toast and tea and take the pill that’s for your stomach first, then after a bit you can take the other pills and your stomach will be able to handle them.”
“No.”
“Taylor, please. Do this for me.”
Taylor’s head emerged from the covers. “Where’s Daddy?”
Darcy smoothed her hands over the blanket, determined not to betray her nervousness. “He’s stuck at the hospital in Denver. It’s snowing really hard and the roads are closed.”
“I want my daddy.” Taylor’s face crumpled and she began to sob.
Darcy pulled her close, blinking back her own tears. She wanted Mike here, too. He’d know how to get Taylor to eat. He’d have medication to settle her stomach and lower her temperature. Darcy felt helpless.
How long could Taylor go without the antirejection drugs before her body rebelled against the heart she hadn’t been born with? What were the signs of organ rejection? Darcy could call Mike and ask, but she hated to worry him further.
And she hated to hear more doubt in his voice. She was doubting herself enough for both of them. Was he thinking, as she was, that her best hadn’t saved her own child?
She forced back the guilt and tears. This was no time for self-pity. She made her voice stern. “You’re going to eat something and you’re going to take your medicine,” she said. “No more whining.”
“I’m not whining.” Taylor glared at her and sniffed.
“It sounds like whining to me.”
“I want to talk to Daddy.”
“After you eat and take your medicine, we’ll call him.” At least then she’d be able to report that much progress.
“You can’t keep me from calling my own father.”
“You can call him—after you eat.”
“Why are you being so mean?”
“Obviously because I’ve been waiting to get you alone to pick on you. Now come on, sit up. Your toast is getting cold.”
Taylor ate the toast and took the pills. Darcy felt a small surge of triumph. She felt even better when the girl didn’t throw up again right away. Apparently exhausted from the effort of arguing and eating, Taylor fell asleep before Darcy could call Mike. Darcy breathed a sigh of relief and prayed the worst was over.
The phone rang and she answered it on the first ring. “How is she?” Mike asked without preamble.
“I got her to eat some toast and take her medicines,” Darcy said. “She’s sleeping now.”
“I spoke with a doctor at the hospital there in Breckenridge. He said they can send an ambulance for her.”
“An ambulance?” Darcy’s heart pounded. “Is that really necessary?”
“It would be safest. They can administer antinausea drugs and IV fluids.”
“Oh. If you think that would be best…”
“Let me talk to her.”
Taylor was groggy, and slow to wake, but Darcy finally made her understand her father was on the phone. Darcy could hear Mike’s voice clearly as he spoke to his daughter.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
“Not so good. When are you coming back, Daddy?”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, but this storm has all the roads closed. I’ve got a doctor friend there in Breckenridge who’s going to look after you though. He’s sending an ambulance to take you to the hospital.”
“No! I don’t want to go to the hospital.” Taylor’s wail startled Darcy. The girl’s cries drowned out Mike’s reply.
“I want to stay here with Darcy. I don’t want to go to the hospital with a bunch of people I don’t know.” Taylor began to sob again, and handed the telephone to Darcy.
“You’ve got to persuade her to go to the hospital,” Mike said.
Darcy wanted Taylor in the hospital, where she’d receive expert care. But she was torn. She hated to see the girl so distressed. “She’s really upset,” Darcy said. “And she seems better now. She didn’t throw up after she ate, and she doesn’t feel as warm to me.” She hadn’t taken Taylor’s temperature in a couple of hours, but she would as soon as she got off the phone.
“I’d feel better if she was with medical professionals,” Mike said.
Darcy sighed. Of course she wasn’t qualified to look after Taylor, but did Mike have to be so sure of it? “You’re right,” she said softly.
“Then persuade Taylor to go to the hospital.”
Taylor sent Darcy a look, her big brown eyes brimming with tears. “I hate hospitals,” she moaned. “Please don’t make me go.”
How sick was she if she could argue so forcefully against going to the hospital? Darcy hated hospitals herself, with their antiseptic smells and constant activity. She’d often thought they were among the worst places to try to get well. “What if Taylor stays here with me and I promise to call the ambulance if she gets any sicker?” she asked.
In the silence that followed, she wondered if Mike was grinding his teeth. “All right. But I’m going to call in some meds and arrange for them to be delivered, and if anything changes, you call me.”
“Yes, sir.”
He hung up without saying goodbye. Darcy gripped the phone, swallowing her hurt. Of course he was concerned about Taylor, but wasn’t Darcy important to him at all? Did he have to be so brusque? She was doing the best she could, and it seemed to be working.
“Am I going to have to go to the hospital?” Taylor asked.
“No, honey. Not now, anyway.” Darcy plumped the pillows behind Taylor’s head and smoothed the sheets over her. “Your father is sending over some medication.” Though how the delivery driver would get to her in this storm, she had no idea. “As long as you don’t get any sicker, you can stay here with me, and your dad will join us as soon as he’s able.”
Taylor enveloped Darcy in a fierce hug. “I love you,” the girl said. “I want you to stay with me forever.”
“I love you, too.” Darcy returned the hug.
She sat with Taylor until the girl drifted back to sleep, then moved into the living room, where she watched snow fall in a white curtain past the window, trying hard not to think about Mike and all the things she wished he’d said.
She must have nodded off. A knock on the door startled her. Groggy, she shuffled across the room to answer it and confronted what might have been a mini abominable snowman, but on closer inspection turned out to be a woman bundled in layers of down and polyester. “I’m Renee Jorgenson,” the woman said as she stripped off gloves, goggles and hat and began unzipping a blue snowmobile suit. “I’m the nurse Dr. Carter hired to look after his daughter.”
Darcy stared as Renee peeled off more layers, until the nurse stood before her in stocking feet, ninety pounds of skin and bones in a pink sweater and jeans. “How did you get here?” Darcy asked.
“Snowmobile. I stopped at the pharmacy on the way over and picked up the prescriptions Dr. Carter ordered.” She lifted a backpack. “Where’s my patient?”
“In her bedroom. She’s sleeping now.”
“I’ll just take a look at her. Is it down this hall? No, you don’t have to come with me. You must be exhausted. Why don’t you get some sleep.”
Darcy stared after her, relieved that a professional had arrived, and disappointed that she herself was so inadequate for the job. She sank to the sofa, the knowledge taking all the strength out of her legs. As much as she loved Taylor—and…Mike, too—Taylor’s precarious health terrified her. The idea that Darcy might do something, even inadvertently, to endanger the girl was like an ax hanging over her relationship with Mike. Clearly he didn’t trust her with his daughter. Maybe she wasn’t qualified but she would never have done anything to endanger the girl. If Taylor had continued throwing up her medications or if her fever had risen Darcy would have been the first to call the hospital. Was it so wrong of her to wish the man had more faith in her than she had in herself?
MIKE SPENT a restless night in a hospital bed and woke early to reports that the roads were still closed. The snow had stopped, however, so he was hopeful the way would soon be clear for him to get to Taylor and Darcy.
A nurse brought him a disposable razor and a toothbrush and he managed to make himself presentable, then went in search of breakfast.
“Good morning, Dr. Carter. Did you spend the night here, too?” He looked up from pancakes and coffee into the round, weary face of Sarah Jankowski.
“Good morning,” he said. “How is Brent this morning?”
“Better. Much better, I think.” Her smile erased the worry lines from her face and banished the fatigue from her eyes. “I’m so glad you insisted on putting him in the hospital. I’d have been beside myself trying to look after him alone, in this storm.”
“Where’s your husband?” Mike recalled that Brent’s father was some kind of skilled laborer, a plumber or an electrician.
“He’s working on a new office building south of Denver and got caught when they closed the roads. He’s spending a night with a friend.”
“And your other children?”
“My sister lives two houses down, so they were able to walk over to stay with her.”
Once again, her matter-of-fact handling of all these contingencies soothed him. “I’m glad to hear Brent is doing so much better,” he said. “I’ll stop by to see him in a bit.” He wished Taylor was in the hospital, too, but his friend in Breckenridge had assured him Jorgenson was an excellent nurse.
After breakfast, he called the condo. “How is Taylor this morning?” he asked when Darcy answered.
“Much better, I think, but maybe you’d better let the nurse give you her professional opinion.” Darcy’s voice sounded distant, and the next thing he knew he was talking to the efficient Mrs. Jorgenson, who reported that Taylor’s temperature was normal this morning and she was begging to be allowed to go out and play in the new snow.
Taylor took the phone next. “I’m okay, Dad.” She sounded much more like an exasperated teenager than a ten-year-old girl should. “I don’t know why you sent a nurse. Darcy and I were doing fine.”
“I’ll let Mrs. Jorgenson go home now,” he said. “If you’re really all right.”
“I’m fine,” she said. He could almost hear her roll her eyes.
“Good. I should be able to get there by this afternoon.”
“I’ve missed you,” Taylor said. “Drive careful. I love you.”
He thanked Mrs. Jorgenson and told her she could go home, then asked to speak to Darcy, but was told she was outside shoveling the walkway. The condo association paid for people to handle that job, but there was no point explaining that to the nurse. “Tell her I should be there this afternoon,” he said. “As soon as the roads open.”
He hung up, a disquieting unease nagging at him. Was Darcy avoiding him? Or had he imagined her coldness? Surely she wasn’t upset with him for leaving her alone with Taylor all weekend. Their romantic getaway hadn’t turned out as planned, but he couldn’t control the weather, and she’d said she understood about his patient. Melissa had said she understood too, at first, though later she’d grown to resent the intrusion of his medical practice on their lives.
He shook his head and went in search of his patient. No sense speculating on what awaited him in Breckenridge; he’d find out soon enough.
Brent was indeed better, literally bouncing on the bed when Mike walked in. “The steroids make him a little hyper,” Sarah explained, with a fond look at her son.
“Did you see all the snow?” Brent asked. He pointed to the window, which was completely obscured by a wall of white. “I can’t wait to get out there on my snowboard.”
“Not for a few days yet,” Mike said. He listened to the boy’s chest, smiling at the clear breath and steady heartbeat. “But as soon as the roads open, you can go home.”
“Thank you so much,” Sarah said. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
The rewards of being a doctor were few enough, but this was definitely one of them—the chance to be a hero to someone, at least for a while.
The roads opened an hour later and Mike joined the line of traffic streaming toward the mountains. He reached Breckenridge before noon and took the stairs to his condo, too anxious to wait for the elevator.
Taylor met him at the door, a long skirt pulled on over her flannel pajamas. “Darcy and I were dancing,” she explained.
Darcy was dressed less flamboyantly, in jeans and an off-white sweater, her hair loose around her shoulders. “How are you?” he asked, moving forward to kiss her.
She turned her head, offering her cheek, not her mouth. Rebuffed, he stepped back. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Everything’s fine,” she said, but didn’t meet his eyes.
Trying to hide his confusion, he turned to Taylor. “You’re feeling better?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She rolled her eyes, hands on hips.
He took out his stethoscope. “Come here and let me listen.”
She submitted to the examination, but moved away as soon as he let her. “It was just a stomach bug,” she said. “I don’t know why you had to make such a fuss.”
He turned to Darcy again. She stood with arms folded, her forehead creased in a frown. “You think I was overreacting, too, don’t you?” he said.
“No, of course not,” she said. “You wanted the best care for your daughter.”
“I was a hundred miles away,” he said defensively. “I had to make the best judgment I could.”
“You did the right thing,” she said. “I’m obviously not qualified to take care of a seriously ill child.” She turned and left the room.
Mike looked at Taylor. But if he was hoping for sympathy, she offered none. “I think you hurt her feelings.”
“I was only trying to take care of you,” he said.
Taylor shrugged. “We would have been fine without the nurse.”
He found Darcy in the guest bedroom, zipping up her suitcase. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“I think it’s best I leave.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said. “I thought you’d be relieved not to have the responsibility of looking after Taylor.”
“Part of me was.” She turned to face him, her eyes reflecting all the sadness he’d heard in her voice. “I was terrified I’d do something wrong. You obviously thought the same thing. I don’t blame you. Really, I don’t.”
“Then why are you so upset?” he asked. “Taylor is not an ordinary child. Her situation—”
“I know all about her situation,” Darcy said. “That’s my son’s heart beating in her chest. I was irresponsible enough to let him die, so how could you possibly trust me to look after her?”
He stared at her, the truth of her accusation freezing him. When she’d told him the story of her son’s death, of how she’d left the boy with his father, an alcoholic, while she went to dance, he had thought her irresponsible. But no more irresponsible than he’d been in dismissing Taylor’s first symptoms. He shared her guilt about the role he’d played in his child’s suffering, but that didn’t mean he didn’t trust her. Did it? “I…of course I trust you,” he finally stammered.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mike. I wish things had worked out differently, but I…I can’t take this. You don’t trust me, and that makes me trust myself even less.” She picked up the suitcase and pushed past him. He heard her saying goodbye to Taylor, then the door opened and shut quietly.
He didn’t hear Taylor behind him so much as feel her presence. “Dad, why is Darcy mad at us?”
“Darcy isn’t mad at us,” he said. “She was just tired and needed to get home.” He wanted that to be true, but the last look she’d given him told him he’d driven her away.
“I guess we should go home, too,” she said doubtfully. “I have school tomorrow.”
Traffic was heavy, making the drive home even longer than usual. Taylor fell asleep in the backseat, leaving Mike to fill the silence with his thoughts. What had he done that was so wrong? He’d only been trying to care for his daughter. Why couldn’t Darcy understand that? He wasn’t used to handing over her care over to anyone else. If her lapse in judgment about her son did affect his decision, it had been totally subconscious—and who could blame him for not wanting to take any chances with his daughter?
Maybe he had hurt her feelings, but she’d hurt him, too, being so quick to take offense. She must know how much she meant to him, after the night they’d spent together.
Hadn’t he told her he loved her? They weren’t words he uttered lightly, but saying them didn’t mean he could change his way of thinking overnight.
Could he change, if it meant keeping Darcy in his life? Or did Taylor’s illness, and his focus on taking care of her, coupled with Darcy’s doubts about her own ability, ruin any hope they had of a successful relationship?
Melissa had once accused Mike of being too controlling to let her have a hand in taking care of her own daughter. At the time he’d denied the charge.
But today he wasn’t so sure.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DARCY SHED more than a few tears over Mike the next few days. The fact that he didn’t call to even try to persuade her to give him another shot proved her worst fears—that he agreed she couldn’t be trusted with his daughter.