by Tamie Dearen
She thought it must be Rayna, letting her know her cab was here. Her cell phone must be turned off. “Coming!” she exclaimed, as she hurried to open the door.
Steven Gherring was standing outside the door. His clear blue eyes burned into her and held her motionless. “What… what’re you doing here?” she asked.
“Anne…” he said, his voice breaking. “Don’t go to Paris.”
She stared at him, speechless for a moment. Then she turned around and walked back in the apartment and picked up her suitcases, one in each hand. She faced him again. “We’ve been through this, Mr. Gherring. I have to go. I promised Henri, and he needs me right now.”
“Has Henri been a perfect gentleman?”
“What?”
“You said I’d been a perfect gentleman. Has Henri been a perfect gentleman?”
“I don’t know… I guess so. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter—I still have to go to Paris, even if he hasn’t been a perfect gentleman.” She still stood unmoving, suitcases in hand.
He crossed the floor in four steps to stand in front of her. “Don’t go. Please. I don’t want you to go.”
She stood straining her neck to look up at him. He was so close to her she could feel the heat radiating from his body. She opened her mouth to reply, but her mind was foggy. She couldn’t form a coherent thought.
Suddenly, he grabbed both of her arms with his hands. His voice was gravely and deep. “Anne—”
He pressed his lips to hers, claiming her mouth with his. This was no gentle supplication, but a heavy, needy demand. She froze, shocked by his incursion. And then the heat began to spread through her body, warming her deep inside. Her bags fell from her fingers, and her hands rose of their own accord to press against his firm chest. She felt his heart pounding under her touch. Her own heart was answering, fluttering like a captured bird. Her lips softened, and she heard a small whimper. Was that her? He groaned in response and deepened his kiss. His tongue was probing her soft lips until they parted and allowed him entrance. His breathing was quick and heavy. He moved his hands to embrace her and crushed her body against him. She clung to him, feeling his hard body pressing intimately against hers as his mouth continued to assault her senses, his tongue swirling and stroking. A deep ache arose in her core as she caressed his tongue with her own.
Abruptly, a strident song rang out from Anne’s cell phone, and they sprung apart, breathing heavily. “I… I should get that. It’s Charlie.” He nodded, clamping his eyes shut and rubbing frustrated fingers through his hair.
She rummaged through her purse to find her phone. “Hello? Charlie?”
“Mom! Mom! Grandpa… He was in a car wreck! I don’t know how bad, but they called me from the hospital! He was coming to pick me up and…” Charlie sobbed. “Mom, I don’t know! I don’t know! They’re in surgery! Emily’s going! I’m getting a taxi! But we don’t know—I think it’s bad!” She sobbed again. “Mom—”
“I’m coming! I’m coming as soon as I can get a flight! I’m coming, baby! Let me hang up and call the airline. I love you, baby.”
She hung up the phone and fell sobbing into Steven’s arms. Her mind was flooded with memories of the Thanksgiving fifteen years before, when a similar phone call had ended her fairy tale life. She was consumed with terror and began to shake even as he held her.
“Did you hear?” she choked.
“I heard, I heard. I’m sorry.” He held her close and caressed her head with his hand. He held her until her weeping lessened slightly. Then he urged her toward the couch to sit.
“I’ll make the calls,” he said. “I’ll get your flight changed.”
“I… I should…”
“You sit. Give me your ticket. I’ll take care of you.”
Chapter Thirteen - Phone Issues
“Anne, are you okay? Have you had anything to eat?” Steven asked as he strapped her into the seat on his private plane. Anne stared at him, unhearing, and nodded her head. “I’m sorry I can’t come with you. But Gram called last night and told me she’s been having chest pains. So I just can’t leave her here alone right now.” He watched her closely, noting her lack of reaction. “You haven’t heard anything I’ve said, have you?”
He held her face between his hands and bent over to speak closely. “Anne, I need to know you’re hearing me, okay?”
This time she made eye contact with him. “Okay,” she said, as a single tear rolled down her cheek. He rubbed it off with his thumb.
“Okay, I need for you to repeat this. It’s very important for you to remember. So repeat this back to me. When the plane lands I will turn my cell phone back on and check my messages. Can you say that?”
“When the plane lands, I will…”
“Turn my phone on.”
“Turn my phone on.”
“And check messages.”
“And check messages.”
“Okay, now listen. I gave the pilot the name and address of the hospital. He’ll get a taxi for you and make sure you get there. Unless one of the girls comes to get you. Emily’s going to call your phone and leave a message as soon as she knows something.”
“Okay. Thanks. Thanks for—”
“No need for thanks. I want to help.” He straightened up. “Anne, there’s one more thing. Will you let me call Henri and tell him what happened? It’ll be awfully late in Paris by the time you get to Fort Worth.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“And will you call me when you get to the hospital?”
Tears began to tumble down her cheeks again. He walked to the back of the plane to find a box of tissues. He pulled one out and dried her face, handing her the rest of the box. His own shirt had a salty tearstain on the chest.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Sure,” she said. But she’d never been more unsure in her life.
He spoke again to the pilot and left her alone on the plane. She couldn’t think clearly. So much had happened. Her mind was so clogged with terrifying images of her father in a mangled car, she couldn’t process her earlier scene with Steven Gherring. He had kissed her? Had that really happened? What did that mean? She decided she wouldn’t think about that. She wouldn’t think about anything else, until she knew about her father. Right now, that was all that mattered. Later, she could deal with other things—things like Steven Gherring.
When the plane finally landed and Anne checked her messages, she heard Emily’s quavery voice. “Mom, come as soon as you can. Charlie’s here. Grandpa’s alive. He’s in critical condition.”
The taxi ride seemed interminable. But she dared not ask the driver to hurry. Every time he changed lanes or used the brake she caught her breath, especially since the roads were wet. She called Emily from the car and both girls were waiting in the lobby for her when she arrived.
“You’re here,” cried Charlie, muffled from their group hug. “Everything’s gonna be okay, now.”
“That’s how I feel, too,” said Emily. “Everybody was talking to me like I was a grown-up, and I just wanted to cry like a little girl. I’m so glad you’re home.”
Anne wept and hugged her girls and peppered them with kisses. “Take me up there.”
She was shocked to see her dad, bandaged and bruised, with tubes coming out of him and surrounded by flashing electrical gadgets. When Tom and his parents were killed in the car accident fifteen years previously, they’d been pronounced dead at the scene. She hadn’t experienced seeing her loved ones, unrecognizable, in the alien-like hospital environment.
She bent over to place a tender kiss on his head in an unbandaged spot. Arriving to check his vital signs, the nurse informed Anne of his condition.
“We’re keeping him unconscious right now. He came through the surgery pretty well for a sixty-eight year old. It’s fortunate he was so healthy—his heart is strong. He has a broken arm, compound fracture. We’ve already set it. He also has some broken ribs and a punctured lung. We have some low-pressure oxygen to help keep the lung
inflated while it heals. His spleen was ruptured, but the doctors only had to remove part of it. He lost a lot of blood, and he’s not out of the woods yet. But he has a good chance of surviving.”
She patted Anne on the arm. “You look terrible, dear. It could have been much worse. A number of people died in that accident.”
“There were other people? Do you know what happened?”
“As I understand it, there were at least ten cars involved. It had just started to rain and the bridge immediately iced-up. Those cars were going seventy miles an hour when they hit the ice. They never had a chance. Most of the ambulances came here, but I understand some went to other hospitals. So I don’t know exactly how many people were injured.”
“I was so worried about Dad I didn’t even think about other cars being involved.”
“Understandable. But I think you can relax a little. He’s a fighter, and it takes a real fighter to battle back from something like this. It’s already past visiting hours, so I’m afraid you’ll need to come back tomorrow. We have your contact information, right? We’ll take good care of him and call you if there’re any changes. Tomorrow or the next day, he may get to move to a room. Then you can stay with him as long as you like.” She smiled as she ushered them out.
Anne breathed a sigh of relief as they walked toward the elevator. But she saw Emily and Charlie exchange a worried look. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Mom,” said Charlie, with huge tears falling from her golden eyes. “Gandalf was in the car.”
Emily was driving to the veterinary office while Anne, in the passenger’s seat, was jumping at every move the car made. It was like reliving a nightmare. She’d refused to drive for a month after the accident that killed Tom.
“Mom, you’ve got to relax a little,” Emily complained. “You’re making me nervous, and I need to concentrate.”
“Sorry, sorry… I’m trying.”
Do you know where this animal hospital is?” asked Charlie.
“I’ve got the address in my GPS. I’ve never been there before. Some Good Samaritan drove Gandalf over there. I got a call on my cell because my number was associated with his ID chip.”
“And what did the message say?” asked Anne.
“The message said to call because they had Gandalf. But I called them, and the nurse said they were going to do surgery. He’d lost a lot of blood from internal bleeding, but they couldn’t do surgery until they’d gotten my permission.” Her lip quivered. “He may have died because it took so long for me to call them back.”
“Oh honey, no! It was an accident, and you were busy keeping Grandpa alive. It’s not your fault.”
Charlie was crying. “Y’all stop talking about him like he’s already dead. We don’t know for sure.”
“But he’s so old. He wouldn’t be strong enough to recover,” said Emily.
Anne struggled to find a dry spot on her last remaining tissue. “It had to happen sometime. We’ve had him for nine and a half years—that’s pretty good. Most Irish Wolfhounds only live five to ten years.”
On their arrival, the clinic appeared deserted. But there was a single light burning inside. “They said there might be someone here until ten o’clock, and it’s almost ten now. If not, we’ll have to come back tomorrow,” said Emily.
They rang the night bell and waited for several minutes before they heard the sound of movement inside. A light flipped on and the door opened. A small bespectacled man who looked to be at least seventy years old stood in the doorway. “Can I help you?”
“We’re here about Gandalf? The Irish Wolfhound?”
“Oh, yes. The Wolfhound. The car accident. I’m so sorry. Come in.”
He walked ahead of them down a long dim hallway.
“Are you the doctor?” asked Anne.
“Oh, yes, I’m Dr. Williams. This used to be my practice, but I sold it to a great young doctor named Christine Stephenson. I’m just here to check on the surgery patients one last time before bed.”
“And what about Gandalf?” Anne asked, dreading the answer.
He opened a door. “He’s still in here. I thought you’d want to see him.”
Anne’s heart fell as she passed through the doorway with her girls. Gandalf’s limp body lay sprawled across an operating table. Blood was smeared on his fur, although it was obvious someone had tried to clean him up. The IV tube had been disconnected and was hanging loose. Anne looked at his still body and tried to connect this image with the joyfully rambunctious dog Gandalf had been.
Though she meant to be strong for her daughters, a sob escaped. She leaned over his head and kissed him, her tears wetting his fur. Emily was weeping audibly. Charlie threw her arms around him, crying out, “Gandalf!”
Emily rubbed his head and kissed his nose. “He’s still warm. He must’ve just died!”
Anne heard Dr. Williams behind her. “Oh, he’s not dead—I thought you knew. He’s just so big I can’t move him by myself. I was trying to figure out what to do when you rang the bell.”
“What? He’s alive?” asked Anne.
The girls began sobbing anew and kissing Gandalf all over.
Anne grabbed Dr. Williams and squeezed him in a bear hug. “Thank you, thank you!”
He blustered a bit and patted her back. “It wasn’t really me. It was Dr. Stephenson that did the surgery. Of course, I taught her everything I know.”
Anne’s phone rang, and she answered quickly, thinking it might be the hospital.
“Hello?”
“Anne?” Steven Gherring’s voice sounded anxious. “You didn’t call. I—I was worried.”
She froze. With the news of the accident, Anne had blocked out all other thoughts. But now, hearing his voice, a flood of memories and images and emotions invaded her head. She remembered. Everything. He hadn’t been shocked when he heard the rumor they were sleeping together. He’d told her he’d slept with his secretary before. He’d come to her apartment. He’d kissed her. And she’d kissed him back. And she’d pressed herself against him and her kiss had become manic. What must he think now? He must think she’d be willing to sleep with him. Is that what would’ve happened if the phone hadn’t interrupted them? She remembered the deep ache that had threatened to overwhelm her senses. Somehow she couldn’t control herself around Steven Gherring. How far would she have gone if Charlie hadn’t called? What would she have done if her father hadn’t been in a near-fatal car accident?
“Anne? Are you there?” Steven's voice was insistent, even frightened.
“I—I—” Suddenly Anne burst into sobbing tears. She ran from the room, handing the phone to Emily, who had been watching her mom with mounting fear.
“Hello?” Emily asked in a tentative voice.
“This is Steven Gherring calling. Who are you? Is this Emily?”
“Yes, this is Emily. What did you say to Mom?”
“I’m pretty sure I just said hello. What happened? Is he… Is he dead?”
“No, he’s alive!” shouted Emily, and her words followed in a torrent. “We thought he was dead at first because the doctor thought we knew and he didn’t tell us. And he was just lying there on the table, all covered with blood and so still. And then I kissed his nose and it was still warm. And I said, ‘his nose is warm’, and the doctor said, ‘Oh, he’s still alive’. But he was too big to move, so they left him on the table. We thought he wouldn’t make it because he’s so old. But he’s alive!”
“How old is your grandfather?”
“Not Grandpa. Gandalf! Gandalf’s alive! But Grandpa’s alive too!”
“Gandalf… You mean your dog?”
“Yes, Gandalf was in the car, too. They’re both alive, but it was a bad accident. At least ten cars. We were lucky. Grandpa’s still in CCU, but they think he’s gonna be okay.”
“What about your mom? What’s wrong with her? Why was she crying so hard?”
“I don’t know. But we all thought Gandalf was dead just a few minutes b
efore you called. So I guess she’s been worried for so long she just fell apart when she heard your voice.”
“Okay… Well, could you have her call me when she gets herself together?”
“Tonight? Or tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow, I guess. It’s after midnight here. But if she wants to talk tonight, she can call and wake me up. I don’t mind.”
“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Gherring. And thanks for flying her here. We really needed our mom. I don’t like facing things without her.”
“I understand how you feel,” said Steven. “Be sure she calls me.”
“Mr. Gherring really wants to talk to you.” Emily unfolded her couch into a bed for her mom.
“I know. Thanks for letting us stay here, since it’s closer to the hospital.”
“You’re welcome. And you’re also evading the topic. Why did you freak out when Mr. Gherring called you?”
“I don’t know. Why did you neglect to tell me you’d been talking to Spencer on the phone?”
“You’ve been talking to Spencer?” cried Charlie. “Sister! You’re keeping secrets from me.”
“Nice try, Mom, but I asked you first,” said Emily.
“Oh, we kind of had a scene before Charlie called, because he didn’t want me to go to Paris to see Henri.”
“What kind of scene? Like a yelling scene? Somehow I don’t see Mr. Gherring as the type of guy who’d yell at a girl,” said Charlie.
“No, he didn’t yell, he just asked me not to go. And I insisted I was going, because I’d promised Henri. Besides Henri really needed me. I feel terrible he’s going to be alone, when he thought I was coming. He’s so upset about Anna-Laure.”
Emily crooked her head at her mom. “You know, somehow I don’t think you’ve ever been entirely honest about Mr. Gherring. Even from the beginning, your interview story was kind of fishy…”