“It went well. I’m sorry I didn’t update. We got in there, and I didn’t want to stop the progress we were making.”
“What happened?” I beg.
My dad grins at us. “We got all the tumors.”
“All of them?” Derek croaks out, his eyes mirroring the disbelief in my own.
“All of them.” Dad’s grin widens. “He’ll need a round of chemo alongside the drug we’re experimenting with, but as long as it takes, I don’t foresee too many issues.”
“He’s going to live?” Tears stream down my cheeks. My dad squeezes my hand and leads to me to sit down.
“Teddy, while the surgery was successful, Carter will have a lot to overcome. We’re going to keep him in a medically induced coma so he can heal. This is going to be a long journey for both of you. His speech and sight might be affected, but we’re hoping we can correct that as we do therapy and the medicines take hold. For now, things look promising.”
“But they aren’t a hundred percent,” I whisper.
“Sweetheart, you know nothing in this world is. I suggest getting some rest. We all have a long road ahead of us, and Carter will need you to be rested and healthy.”
“I want to see him. I want to stay with him tonight.”
Dad sighs and glances at Derek.
“She’s ridiculously stubborn. I’ve been trying to get her to go to the hotel, and she won’t.”
Dad chuckles. “That sounds like my girl.” He gives me an affectionate squeeze. “You can stay with him tonight. These next few days are crucial to his recovery. Perhaps hearing your voice will spur him on. But tomorrow night you go to the hotel and rest in a real bed and get yourself a good meal. Got it?”
“Promise,” I say, getting to my feet. “Please take me to him.”
“Follow me.”
39
Teddy
I strum my fingers across the strings of my guitar and peek up at Carter. He’s been in a coma for two weeks now. His chocolate eyes are still hiding from me, but the half smirk, half smile on his face lets me know he hears me singing to him.
Don’t wait for me on the other side
I’m here right now
Just open your eyes
For a girl who never believed in fairy tales
You’ve rescued me
Oh, I’ve been waiting for you
To come set me free
The first Independence Day fireworks explode over the Hudson River. Their boom rattles the glass, making me jump. I set my guitar down and close my journal, tucking my pen inside. I pull the chain to roll back the blinds for Carter to have a look. Maybe the lure of bursting colors will stir him to open his eyes. I’d give anything to see his eyes again.
I push the sleeping recliner in place and angle it toward the window next to Carter’s bed. Settling down into it as comfortably as possible, I take Carter’s hand in mine and watch the colors erupt in the night sky. Our first July 4th together. A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I take solace in knowing we’ve made it this far. He’s going to be fine. If only he’d wake up. The tubes that were helping him breathe are gone. The wires and cords connecting him to life have dwindled. Carter is holding his own.
I take out my phone and snap a few pics of the brilliant view from the fifteenth floor of St. Anne’s Medical Center. Then I turn the camera around to get a selfie of us together with the fireworks.
The night nurse, Chantelle, pushes her cart into the room. Quickly, I put my phone away. Must be time for vitals and medicine again.
“Oh, perfect! I timed it just right,” she says, pointing to the fireworks painting the sky outside the window and winking at me. She scans Carter’s wristband and proceeds to wave her magic temperature wand across Carter’s forehead.
“Yes, perfect timing. They just started. Too bad you’re not out there enjoying the fun.”
“Girl, no. That’s not fun at all. The crowds, the traffic, and all those rude people. I’m glad I’m in here where it’s quiet.” She adjusts Carter’s blankets. “How’s our patient doing tonight?”
“He’s good tonight—calmer. Last week was heartbreaking to watch him struggle.”
“Well, he’s got his angel singing to him.” She points to my guitar leaning against the window ledge. “I swear you’ve calmed half the patients down on this floor. If no one’s told you before, you should be a singer. You’ve got the pipes for it.” The beeping on Carter’s heart monitor rises slightly for a few seconds then normalizes. “See? Even Mr. Carter agrees with me.”
“Well, if Mr. Carter agrees with you, then he should wake up and tell me himself,” I huff my idle threat and glare at him.
We both watch his face for a hard minute, but his eyelids only flutter, that same half-smirk, half-smile still gracing his beautiful face. My shoulders sag in defeat.
She laughs at the look on his face. “Girl, he’s an alpha male. Idle threats won’t scare him. Those virile eyes will open when he’s good and ready. Now let’s get some medicine in him, so he can come back to you sooner.” She scans his ID bracelet again and pushes the medicine into his IV. “He’s healing from the inside out. Give him time; he’ll come back when he’s ready.” She winks at me and pushes her cart back through the door, leaving us alone.
Spending this time alone while he recovers—well, I’ve thought about every word we’ve ever spoken to each other…some in anger, some in friendship, but mostly in love, and he’s right. I play life safe, staying in the middle lane, letting others be in charge of my dreams so I can blame them when things don’t work out. I’ve been present but not accountable. Medical school and singing in Nashville were both my fault, and yet, I put all the blame and my anger on Dad and Richie.
What’s the point of having a dream if I’m not going to own it and pursue it? My feeble attempts at my goals were simply rebellions by a young mind who didn’t know what she wanted.
Well, I’ve grown up since leaving Nashville.
A break from music and our adventures have helped me kickstart my own passion again.
Meeting Carter is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s fate, as cliché as that sounds. He says it’s karma that led him to me.
Carter inspires me to write and sing again. He’s done nothing but encourage and support me, pushing me to believe in myself.
I’m going to show him I can move into the fast lane, stepping outside my comfort zone and insecurities to be in control of my own destiny.
I open the book of notes I’ve been collecting from my internet research. There are clubs here in the city with open-mic nights. I know I can do this. I made a start once and will use my lessons learned to do things differently. I jot down a quick to-do for tomorrow and shove it back into my bag.
The barrage of the fireworks finale has started. I’ll give the crowd some time to die down before making my way to the hotel for a shower and an attempt at a good night’s rest. Laura asked me why I wasn’t staying in Carter’s penthouse. The truth is, I can’t bear being in his space. I was there last week, leaving some of his clothes. While the views of Fifth Avenue and Central Park are gorgeous, his home doesn’t feel like a home. It’s cold and sterile with no signs of family or personal mementos. There’s nothing there which gives me a glimpse into Carter’s life, unless I count the emptiness. It’s such a stark contrast to the warm and laughing man I’ve come to love in his black RV, the Beastmaster, as he and Derek lovingly call it. I’d give anything to be back in it with him now. Carter’s dark stallion.
When I finally do stay at Carter’s place, I want us to be together. We’ll sleep in his bed. We’ll make love. He’ll whisper he loves me, and I’ll giggle as he grins his boyish smirk at me. I want to wake in the morning next to him. Being there without him makes me feel like half of me is missing. Even though Derek offered me the keys to Carter’s home after I complained about my noisy neighbors in the hotel, I still can’t do it. It’s not my place without him.
“You need to wake up soon, my love. I m
iss you so much,” I say, my voice cracking halfway through. I swipe at a tear which threatens to roll down my cheek. Be strong one more day, Teddy. He’ll wake up tomorrow. I know it.
Missing the man I love while he sleeps is heart-wrenching. He rescued me. He’s my knight in shining armor. My muse. He’s awakened the music I thought was dead.
He’s the inspiration behind the song I’m working on. One random lyric popped into my head down in the cafeteria a few days ago. Then the floodgates burst open. Words rushed forth so fast, I had to write them on brown, recyclable napkins with a pen I borrowed from a nurse eating next to me.
The words feel right, and for once, I’m proud of it. Like giddy, ecstatic, uninhibited dancing kind of proud. I’ve been tweaking the melody and pace, and now it’s perfect.
I hope Carter likes the song I wrote about him. About us.
I tuck my guitar back in its case and prop it against its designated resting place for the last few weeks. If he wakes when I’m not here, he’ll see it and know I’m coming back soon. My lips touch his, and I’m happy to feel their warmth.
I whisper against them, “Tomorrow. Please wake up tomorrow. For me, baby.” And stroke his head, the rough stubble from his surgery shave beneath my fingers, before dimming the lights and making my way to the elevator.
“Teddy,” the nurse says quietly as she wheels in her cart. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s time to give Carter a bath. He’s supposed to be prepped and ready before he goes for some additional imaging tests this morning. Could you please wait in the lounge? It shouldn’t take any more than thirty minutes.”
“Sure, no problem.” I grab my guitar and bag, hauling my stuff down to the blue room at the end of the long hallway. It seems to be the least used waiting room on the floor and the furthest from the patient rooms. I sit in silence for a few minutes, wishing I hadn’t already made my phone calls to the clubs or caught up on reading emails in the solitude of my hotel room.
I pick up my guitar and strum a few lines of “Contact High” by Caitlyn Smith and soon become lost in the vibe of the song, forgetting where I’m at. When I pluck the last notes, I sling my messy hair back over my shoulders and look up to see a younger man sitting on the far side of the room.
He claps and whistles, enjoying my free concert. “What else do you have in your set? I’d love to hear some more.”
“Well, what are you in the mood for? I mostly play country, but I know lots of songs.”
“You’ve got a bluesy vibe to your voice. The grit is so raw. I’d like to hear anything you’d like to sing.”
“Thank you,” I say softly as I pluck the opening chords to “I’m the Only One” by Melissa Etheridge.
A smile spreads from ear to ear as I sing, and he leans against the hard back of his chair while his toe taps to the acoustic beat. Halfway through, I speed up the chorus and go right into “Black Horse and A Cherry Tree” by KT Tunstall. He checks his watch a few times and starts to shift in his seat, so I end the concert early.
He stands and claps again when I stop the vibration of the strings with my hands. “Are you the lady who’s been singing at night in Room 12?”
“Yes,” I say with hesitation. I unfasten my guitar strap and let it fall to my lap. “I’m so sorry if I disturbed you or who you were visiting.”
“No, please don’t apologize. On the contrary, my mother enjoys your voice. It comes through the vents and she rests more soundly after you’re done. So, thank you for that.” His warm smile eases my mind.
“I hope she’s recovering and going home soon.”
“She is recovering, but…” He looks away from me for a moment and clears his throat before continuing, “She’ll be moved to a rehabilitation facility first, then hopefully going home.” The red rims of his eyes accentuate the hopelessness in them.
“I wish her well and a speedy recovery then.” I know that feeling of hopelessness. It’s a mountain you never think you’re going to reach the summit of, but kind words from everyone pulling for Carter always help me make it through the day. Hopefully, I can pay it forward with my well wishes.
“I have to go. She should be back from physical therapy, and I don’t want to miss a moment of our time together.” He hands me a business card. “If you ever need someone like me, give me a call.”
“Certainly,” I reply, taking it from him. “Hey, I’ll uh… stop by her room for a solo concert in the next few days. Anything to make her rest better and get home quicker.” I offer up a wide smile.
“That’d be great. I appreciate it.” He leaves without a word, and I tuck the card into the back pocket of my jeans without bothering to look at it.
My throat is dry from singing, so I pack up everything and make my way to the cafeteria for a drink before heading back to Carter.
My phone rings inside my bag as I step off the elevator. I dig inside and finally find it on the very bottom. I don’t recognize the number, but I slide the arrow up. “Hello?”
“Hello. This is Karen, the entertainment manager at The Bitter End. I got your message.”
“Thanks for calling me back. I really appreciate it.”
“Open mic nights are on Tuesday by lottery. If you want to show up at 7:30 PM and get a number, then you can perform according to your ticket number. We only give out forty numbers. If they’re gone when you arrive, you can’t perform. If you get a number, you get five minutes on stage to do whatever you like. If the crowd likes you, then you might get an invitation to perform on Friday nights. Just see the bartender when you arrive at 7:30 for a number. OK?”
“OK.”
“Any questions?”
“Nope. I got it. Thanks.”
She hangs up in true New Yorker style—abruptly. Butterflies are beating inside me. I feel like something good is going to happen.
I push the door to Carter’s room open to find him right where I left him. My lips meet his in a tender kiss.
“I’m back,” I whisper, resting my forehead against his. His hand is in mine like always.
“I was wondering when you’d be back,” his soft voice has my breath catching in my chest.
“Carter?” I’m a bumbling idiot, tears coursing down my cheeks as I pull away and stare at him in disbelief. He gives me a shaky smile, his beautiful, brown eyes bright with his own tears.
“Teddy Bear,” he whispers, cupping my face tenderly. “I’ve missed holding you.”
“Carter.” I’m weeping so much I can barely breathe.
He lets out a soft chuckle. “Come here, baby.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m on the bed and snuggled in his arms, sobbing like a child. His fingers thread through my hair, and he murmurs, “My sweet girl. I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you too.” I tilt my head up to look at him.
His head is bald because they had to shave it for the surgery. The ugly scars are a beacon to the pain he’s been in. But none of that matters. Hair grows back. Scars fade. What matters is he’s here now. With me. Holding me. We’re together.
Before we get the chance to talk, the nurse comes back in with my dad and a few other doctors. I shift to move away from Carter, my cheeks heating. He’s still weak, but he manages to pull me back for a gentle kiss that screams of more.
Before long, the room is full of people checking Carter’s motor and cognitive skills. I move to the far corner of the room and give them space to make sure he’s all right.
I take a few candid pics of him and send them to Derek and Doctor Abrams in a group text.
Me: He’s awake. Come see for yourselves!
Derek: On my way.
Dr. A: Be there as soon as traffic allows.
* * *
When I look up from my phone it’s to find Carter’s eyes on me. Everything in that look says everything I feel for that man. And more. So much more.
40
Teddy
“It’s just after 8:00 PM. Go and rest, Teddy. He’s probably not going to
wake up until the morning with all the medication they gave him after dinner.” Derek’s eyes sweep over me.
I stuff my iPad and earbuds in my bag. I glance over to Carter who’s been out for hours. “You’re right. I promised Carter I’d go to the hotel and get some sleep. Thanks for staying with me.”
“Why don’t you go stay at his place? I know he’s offered it.”
“It wouldn’t feel right without him there.”
Derek gives me a sympathetic look but nods.
I pull my phone out of my back pocket to call an Uber, and a small card falls to the floor. Derek scoops it up and hands it to me. “A talent scout? Republic Records. Nice. It’s about time you went after your own dreams.”
“Talent Scout? What?” I snatch it out of his hands. My eyes bulge in surprise.
“You didn’t know you had the business card of a talent scout in your pocket?” He laughs softly at my shock. “How is that possible?”
“He listened to me play while waiting for his mother this morning, and when he left he handed me his card and said something like “If you ever need my services…ugh. I thought he was a cable salesman or something like that.”
“Teddy, that’s Ed Wilcott. He signs major talent, like Grammy-award winning, multi-platinum singers for Universal Music. You have to call him.”
I grab my case and throw open the buckles, pulling out my trusty guitar. No hesitation. Not anymore. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Carter, it’s that we only live once so we have to take every opportunity that comes our way or risk losing it. I wrap my guitar strap around me and grab my phone. “I can do better than call him. C’mon, Derek. We have a little concert to play before bedtime.” He follows me next door to Room 11.
I knock quietly, and within a few seconds, the door is pulled open. Mr. Wilcott greets us with a full smile. “You came. She’s going to be so surprised.”
“How’s she’s doing tonight?”
Sweetest Obsessions - Anthology Page 80