by West, Cara
By the time they arrived, and Larry dropped the two women at the emergency entrance, the ambulance with Nate in it was nowhere to be seen.
An efficient-looking nurse appeared ready to greet them.
"The man with the gunshot wound, where is he?" Megan asked.
The nurse's look took in Megan's bloody hands and gown.
"He's already gone to emergency surgery. Are you his wife?"
"His... fiancée. Megan Grant. Please, is he going to be okay?"
"My name's Shirley," the nurse said soothingly. "Why don't we sit over here for a moment." Shirley led Jenny and Megan to a quiet comer. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you much. But he's being taken care of by the best. That I can promise you."
"The blood. There was so much. Could the bullet have gone through his heart?"
"I don't think so."
If it had, Megan reasoned, he wouldn't have lasted five minutes. But then, she thought crazily, it had probably only been fifteen minutes since the whole thing happened. Since her glittering world had turned red with pain.
"When... when will we know something?"
"Surgery can take hours," Shirley answered honestly. She turned to Jenny with a questioning look.
"I'm Megan's sister-in-law. Jenny Grant."
"If you want coffee, Jenny, we keep a full pot in the kitchenette down the hall. In the meantime, I'll bring you paper towels to wipe her hands."
Jenny nodded gratefully. "We're expecting more people. Nate's parents, as well as the rest of our family."
"Good. Someone will be here, then, to answer any questions."
Even as they spoke, they heard another ambulance. "Must be one of the other two victims," Shirley said. "I'll be back."
"I'll get the towels," Jenny offered.
"You'll find them in that bathroom."
Shirley patted Megan's shoulder before she and Jenny walked away.
Megan barely noticed the gesture of comfort. The mention of wiping her hands had centered her attention on them. Nate's blood had dried and crusted in the creases of her palms and fingers. She held her hands out in front of her, trying to grab a breath.
"It's okay," Jenny said, returning. She held a crumpled wad of moistened paper towels.
Megan watched, mesmerized, as Jenny wiped her skin clean. Except Jenny couldn't seem to get the caked blood from under her nails. The nails she'd so carefully manicured only hours before.
She let Jenny lead her to the bathroom and scrub the stains with soap and water.
By the time they emerged, the emergency waiting room was jammed. Betty had arrived and been wheeled into a treatment cubicle. She was due to go to the operating room to have the bullet removed from her thigh.
"Honey." Molly came over and embraced Megan tightly. Megan let herself be hugged, although she couldn't make herself return the embrace.
"It's going to be okay," Molly murmured.
Megan shrugged without answering and avoided her mother's eyes.
Assurances washed over her as members of the family trooped by. Afterward they settled into almost every available seat.
The other seats were claimed by Sandra, looking ravaged, Warren, pale but steady, and Diana, who sat next to Sandra and put an arm around her shoulders.
With a ragged sigh, Sandra let the younger woman comfort her.
It was a touching scene—if Megan could have been touched. But she felt detached. She could see things happening, but somehow nothing mattered.
Except what was going on in surgery right now.
Over the next thirty minutes the tension in the room grew. At one point, Megan heard Larry ask Risa, "What about the guy who did the shooting?"
Risa shook her head. "I think I heard that he was dead on arrival."
So Willard had turned the gun on himself, Megan thought dazedly. He was the third victim.
She tried to feel something. Hate. Anger. Pity. The emotions wouldn't come.
The last group to show up in the waiting room were Ken, Jr., his wife and three other young adults. A nurse confirmed what they already feared—that Ken, Sr., was dead. While the three youngest collapsed in tears, Kenny and his wife crossed to Sandra. "How's Mother?"
Warren spoke for Sandra. "According to the nurse, she's doing pretty well."
"And ... and ... the other one?"
"My son, you mean?" Warren's voice cracked momentarily. "He's in surgery. His condition is critical."
"We're sorry. We had no idea..." Kenny's wife broke into sobs. "When... when he asked to go with us, we had no idea... he'd..."
Sandra averted her face and muttered, "Get her away from me."
Kenny led his still-sobbing wife to the other side of the room.
So this is what the aftermath of violence resembled, Megan noted with one part of her mind. The numb part. The part that couldn't feel. The part that wasn't silently screaming in agony.
The events of the evening had a nightmare quality. They couldn't have occurred. Nothing so terrible could happen on such a promising occasion.
"Would you like some coffee?" someone asked.
Megan looked up. It was her father. She didn't answer. Even so, moments later, a plastic cup appeared in her hand.
A whispered consultation took place on a nearby couch. Seconds later, Risa was kneeling in front of her, saying, "Megan, I'm going to get you something else to wear."
"Huh?"
"Your dress. Don't you want to change it?"
Megan stared vaguely down at the front of her bodice. Splotches of Nate's blood had matted the velvet weave. Around the skirt were two large patches of flattened velvet. The coagulated blood had turned the dark green fabric a chocolate brown.
"I'll get you something to change into," Risa repeated.
"No, I don't want to change."
The blood was all she had of Nate. It was the closest she could get to him. "I'll stay as I am.'* She turned away.
She could scarcely stand to look at any of her family. In some convoluted way, she'd come to hold them responsible. If she was rational, she'd know that wasn't true.
But right now she wasn't rational.
Right now she couldn't bear to talk to them or have physical contact. She hadn't fully realized this until Risa had tried to help.
The family must have somehow sensed her hostility. Their assurances had been uncharacteristically tentative. They'd instinctively known to keep a distance.
Megan could bear Jenny's touch. Jenny, who sat by her side like a silent sentinel. Jenny had remained Nate's friend throughout, even if she hadn't stood up to Sam forcefully.
At least she hadn't betrayed Nate.
Megan jumped up and hurried through the doors to the nurses' station. "Can't we find out anything? It's been almost an hour."
"I'll check for you," Shirley said, "but I can't promise anything."
Megan watched her go into a private office and dial a number. She spoke softly into the receiver, before hanging up and returning to Megan.
"He's still in surgery."
"That means he's alive."
Shirley nodded and covered Megan's hand. "You keep remembering that. As long as they have him in surgery, there's hope he'll survive."
But there was doubt. Megan couldn't deny it any longer. From the time she'd seen the bullet hole square in his chest, she'd known. She just hadn't let herself think it.
Nate might not live. She might not see him again. Never hold him. Never tell him she loved him.
He'd done it for her. To save her, he'd been willing to sacrifice his life.
She started shaking all over. She couldn't seem to help it. Her knees were barely supporting her.
Shirley hurried out from her station. "Come sit down."
She guided Megan back into the waiting area to the nearest chair, then caught Jenny's eye. "Perhaps we should order something to calm you, Megan. I'll get the resident on call."
She began to take Megan's pulse.
"No. No, I don't want anything. I only want to know
what's happening."
Jenny appeared at her side. Just behind Jenny stood Sam. At some point, unbeknownst to Megan, he'd arrived at the hospital.
Sam, the brother she'd adored. Nate's dearest friend.
Bile rose in her throat, making her almost gag.
"Megan," Sam said gently, "perhaps it would be better to take something mild—just to help you through the next few hours."
"No. Get away from me." She rose to her feet and swayed dizzily. When he tried to support her, she brushed him off. She thrust aside the hovering women. Suddenly she needed space and air.
Backing away, she glanced all around her, fighting her nausea. Everyone was staring, despair written on their faces. She knew what they'd decided. She knew why they waited.
"No." She shook her head. "No. He's not going to die. I know what you're thinking. But he can't die now."
"It's okay, Megan," Sam said, still seeking to calm her. "The doctors are doing everything they can."
"And what about you?" she asked, anger coming to her rescue. "Have you done all you could?"
After a small pause, Sam said quietly, "I'm not sure what you mean. I've talked to the police."
"Willard's dead, right?" she said, her tone flat.
"Yes." Sam glanced down at his hands. They were visibly shaking, Megan saw flecks of blood on Sam's shirt. "We reached him in time to deflect the bullet aimed at Betty. But... before we realized his intention, he'd turned the gun on himself."
Someone in the room was crying. Perhaps it was one of his grieving children, Megan thought. Yet all she felt was a rising fury. Somehow it steadied her and held the dizzying helplessness at bay.
Standing too close, trying to offer his sympathy, Sam made her the angriest.
She pushed him from her. "Go away. I don't want you near me."
"Megan—"
"I mean it. Don't touch me."
Holding his hands up, he obeyed her command.
"You're the one," she told him. "The one who wouldn't listen."
"I know, Megan." Sam closed his eyes briefly. "And I'm sorry."
"Being sorry doesn't help. He may be dying this minute. Dying because he loved me."
"I realize that now."
"He sacrificed himself for me."
"I know," Sam said.
Tears trailed down Megan's cheeks. Where had they come from? She wiped them impatiently.
"You've never understood him. You never saw that I was the one he loved from the beginning. Those other women meant nothing. They were just a place to hide."
Sam's face was as grim as death. "I understand what you're saying."
"No! Stop! Don't try to appease me. I want you to listen."
She drew a ragged breath to steady her voice. "Nate was always there—always there for me. When I was a little girl and fell and skinned my knee, he carried me home and held my hand when Mama bandaged me. He was there to tell me about Dad being sick. In the plane. At the hospital. Always beside me. Because he loves me." She clutched at her breast. "He loves me more than himself, and that's why he did it. And you didn't believe him. You couldn't see the truth."
"I was wrong."
"You accused him of using me. He's never used me. He's the one who only wants what I want. He's always loved me. But he was afraid to admit it. And do you know why? Because he didn't think you'd think he was good enough for me. And he was right about you."
She choked back a sob. "He cared how you felt. It was tearing him apart. I wish you weren't my brother. You're not man enough to... to tie his... his shoelaces..." Sobs wracked her body. Fine tremors washed over her.
Andrew rose from his chair, but Sam waved him back. Jenny had sunk into the chair nearest her husband. She was crying softly.
Only Sam remained standing in the middle of the room, as if he and he alone deserved Megan's blows.
"And... and if he dies, I'll never forgive you," she cried. "Do you hear me? I'll never forgive you."
"I'll never forgive myself," Sam said.
"He can't die.. .he can't. I can't lose him... I haven't told him I loved him. He may never know... I never told him. I was a coward..."
She put her hands to her face and began to weep uncontrollably. Her teeth were chattering. She felt as cold as death.
"I love him ... I love him..." Her words became a mantra.
"I know." Sam moved closer and reached to take her in his arms.
She beat against his chest, but the blows were ineffectual. Finally, weakened, she collapsed against him. His hands were strong and warm as they stroked her back.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SHE WAS STANDING near a railing, peering out over the water.. . watching, waiting for something to happen, while horror scuttled close like wisps of fog.
A grating jolt pitched her forward. Pain struck like lightning.
Nate was falling, falling... He had nothing to cling to.
He was somewhere in the fog. In the crimson sea.
He called to her. Reached for her. But the fog entrapped her, while his life leached away somewhere in the darkness.. .
"Megan," he called, his voice a hollow echo. "Megan... Megan..."
She jerked awake from her doze.
The man on the bed beside her recliner, connected by needles and wires to his guardian machines, was restlessly muttering, "Megan... are you hurt? Megan...?''
She stood and leaned over the bed. "No, Nate. I'm fine. I love you."
"Megan—?"
"I'm here. Right here beside you, Nate. Everything's going to be just fine. I love you."
He blinked open his eyes and slowly focused them on her. "Megan?" His voice was hoarse. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes. I promise. I love you."
His expression sharpened as he became more alert. "Stand back and turn around."
"Why?"
"So I can see for myself."
She dutifully pirouetted.
"Okay," he muttered, his eyes devouring her. "Now... say it again."
"I love you."
He tried to sit up and reach for her, but he fell back with a groan. Tucking his chin to his neck, he peered down his torso. "I feel like there's a horse sitting on my chest."
"You were wounded." She smoothed a palm over the extensive dressing. "The bullet pierced a lung and nicked a major artery. You... you almost bled to death."
She blinked back the tears that still came too easily. She'd known for most of the night, since he'd come out of surgery, that although his condition was listed as critical, Nate's chances of recovery were excellent.
After a medical consultation, they'd moved him out of ICU. The doctors had also assured her that with the new methods of pain management, he would be awake and alert sooner than she might have expected.
Since then, Megan had been ensconced on the recliner the hospital provided. She'd been determined to be with Nate when he first became fully conscious.
His face began to register terrifying memories. "Mother—she's okay, isn't she?" he asked, his tone of urgency returning.
"Yes. She's fine. I sent her home when you left ICU, but she'll be back soon."
"And Betty?"
"She was shot in the thigh, and she's out of surgery. No permanent damage."
"Anyone else? Did Willard hit any bystanders?"
"No. He shot himself. He's dead."
"I see," Nate said, staring beyond her.
"Nate, he was a very unhappy man. And filled with hatred."
"I know. But somehow... this didn't have to happen. I'm sorry he's dead."
"Nate, the man almost killed you."
He focused back on her. "And you, as well." His voice was wobbly.
"You saved my life." She put her hands on either side of his head and leaned close to his face. "And probably Sandra's and Betty's." She kissed him. "If you hadn't recognized Willard and been prepared, he might have killed four people, instead of one."
Nate closed his eyes briefly. "Thank God, I was in the right place at the right t
ime. I'd checked up on him, you know, through a detective agency. That's why I hired security. Little good it did. Willard got past the guard."
Megan decided confession was good for the soul. "Willard called before the opening."
Nate frowned.
"I know I should've told you. Maybe, if I had, you would've hired extra security. None of this would've happened."
"Don't second-guess fate, Megan. And don't blame yourself." Nate's voice was firm.
"It wasn't just fate. You were watching over me."
He grimaced. "It's an old habit and hard to break."
"It's a handy habit. For me, I mean. Nate—please believe me—I love you very much. Last night I was scared I might never have the chance to tell you."
"Shh, Megan, it's okay. I do believe you." He took a steadying breath. "I love you, too."
A final sense of relief freed her from her fears. "You're my hero, you know," she said as happiness bubbled up in her.
He accepted her accolade with a look of discomfort. "Now, Megan," he said weakly, "don't get carried away."
She ignored his awkward admonition. "My knight in shining armor. You rode up on your charger and saved me from disaster."
"Come on—"
"My very own Prince Charming."
"Megan, that's enough," he said gruffly.
She was sure she detected a faint flush beneath his pallor. "You're blushing. I believe you're embarrassed."
"You've caught me in a temporarily weakened state. I—I can't seem to control my responses to you. Not that I was ever very good at it." He smiled wryly.
That smile was one of the most welcome sights of the past twelve hours.
"I just wanted to warn you..." she said with a stab at solemnity.
He frowned in puzzlement. "What about?"
"My family."
His frown was overtaken by a wary expression. "Why... warn me?"
"They're feeling very grateful to you."
Nate blinked once and then again. She could see him begin to grasp the obvious.
"They also consider you my knight in shining armor. Your bravery's overwhelmed them. That, and your willingness to throw yourself in front of me. They realize they've misjudged you. They're feeling wretchedly guilty about everything."