He turned her onto her back, deepened the kiss for a moment, then raised his head to gaze down at her. His eyes held admiration as he brushed the hair from her face.
“Kate.” He whispered the name with reverence, as if savoring the sound. Elation and fear sparked at the depth of affection she saw in his eyes. To her surprise, the elation nudged the scarier emotions aside. For the first time since having her heart shattered, she felt ready to open it again. To let love in.
Joy filled her as he smiled tenderly and brushed her check with his fingertips. “Kate, I—”
The sound came again. She started to ask again what it was.
But then it registered.
His mobile phone was ringing.
A sense of betrayal ripped through her. As her gaze collided with his, guilt widened his eyes.
“You turned your phone on,” she whispered in a deceptively calm voice.
“I can explain!”
“Explain?” She scrambled from beneath him, pulling the sheet over her naked breasts as she pressed into the corner of the berth. “How could you do that? We had an agreement.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” He sat up so fast, his head hit the berth’s low-ceiling. “Shit!” He rubbed his head. “I woke up in the middle of the night and lay here for at least an hour. I couldn’t shut my brain off, okay? All I could do was stare into space with a million worries spinning through my head. Do you know how many things can go wrong in the course of making a movie?”
The words echoed so closely to a hundred excuses she’d heard from Edward, she nearly plugged her ears. Instead, she just stared at him, wanting to cry.
“Kate, I’m sorry.” His eyes pleaded with her. “It’s just, I knew I’d never get back to sleep unless I turned the phone on long enough to see if I had any major fires to put out. That’s all I did. I swear! I didn’t sit up all night reading and answering emails and texts. I swear it.”
“Did you answer any of them?”
“One, okay? I answered one. Because it really was urgent. The animation team in California couldn’t move forward with what they were working on until I sent them some data specific to my end.”
“It couldn’t wait until later today when our sailing trip was over?”
“No!” He plowed his fingers through his hair. “They were dead in the water.”
“It was the middle of the night!”
“You think that matters? Some people do their best work during the night.” When she just gaped at him, he closed his eyes, remorse radiating from him. “You’re right. They could have shifted to something else. I was wrong.” His eyes opened, beseeching. “God, Kate, I’m so sorry. I just… couldn’t sleep.”
Tears blurred her vision. “You think I didn’t wake up a few times in the night and want to do the same thing? The difference is, I didn’t.”
“I said I was wrong, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay.” Drawing her knees up, she wrapped her arms around her legs. “Yesterday, I actually started to believe you when you talked about balance. I thought you meant it.”
“I did mean it.”
“And this is how you show it?”
“Okay, so I forgot to turn it back off.”
“Which would have made it worse! If you’d remembered, I never would have known that you broke your promise. I would have blindly believed you stuck to our deal.”
“I—” The phone, which had stopped ringing, started up again. “Dammit!” He glared toward the main cabin as if wanting to hurl the phone into the lake. “I’ll turn it off, okay? I’ll turn it off.”
As he hurried from the berth into the main cabin, she dropped her forehead to her knees. A ball of emotion threatened to erupt from her in either a sob or a scream. The strength of her hurt stunned her. He wasn’t a husband who’d broken a thousand promises. He’d only broken one. But still.
Maybe if her defenses weren’t down from having just woken—
No. It hurt because she’d opened her heart to him. She’d fallen in love with him, dammit!
The thought jarred her. No, not love! It couldn’t be love. She wouldn’t let it be! But it was. Dear Lord, she’d fallen in love with Michael Cameron, a man who was married to his work. How could she be such an idiot?
“Kate?”
The dead calm in his tone had her head popping up. He looked at her with such dread, her careening thoughts tumbled to a halt.
“Mike, what is it?”
He held the phone out to her. “The call was for you.”
“What?”
“Your friend Linda. She’s left three voice messages asking you to call her back right away. Something about Dylan.”
The bottom fell out of Kate’s world.
Reaching for the phone, she dialed Linda’s number. In her mind, Dylan died a thousand deaths as she waited for her friend to answer, every one violent, painful, and completely her fault. “Linda, thank God,” she breathed when her friend answered. “What’s happened?”
“Kate! I’ve been trying to get you for the past half hour. I finally gave up on your mobile and started calling Mike’s.”
“I sent you a text message to let you know I was turning it off. Never mind. Just tell me what’s wrong?” she demanded.
“Dylan’s grandmother called. He’s having trouble breathing and his inhaler isn’t doing anything to turn it around. She says she doesn’t have his nebulizer to give him anything stronger.”
“What do you mean, she doesn’t have his nebulizer?” Kate asked, fear rising. “And what’s he doing with her anyway?”
“Apparently he spent the night with her.”
Fury exploded in a white flash. “Where is Edward?”
“I don’t know. His mother doesn’t want to bother him so early on a Sunday morning. Get this—she wants you to come into town and deal with Dylan.”
“She wants me to drive into town?” Kate raised a shaking hand to her brow. “If he’s having an asthma attack, he could be dead by the time I get there.”
“Oh God, Kate, are you serious?’
“Yes, I’m serious.” Why didn’t anyone but her own parents take Dylan’s condition to heart? Is this what came from letting others scold her about being overprotective? “Look, I’ve got to call Dylan. I’ll call you back.”
She hit the off button, then fumbled to dial the number of her former in-laws, only she couldn’t figure out how to get the dial tone back. With trembling fingers, she tried again, only to have Mike take the phone from her.
“What are you doing?” She grabbed for it.
“Kate!” he said in a clear voice. Taking her wrist in his hand, he waited for her to look at him. “Take a deep breath.”
“But—”
“Take a breath.” When she did, the world spun for a moment then settled back into place. “Now, tell me the number.”
She rattled off the number from memory. Once he’d dialed it for her, he handed her the phone. She sat, listening to it ring. And ring. Finally Edward’s mother came on the line. “Good morning, Bradshaw residence.”
“Anne, thank heavens. It’s Kate.”
“Oh, hello, Kate,” the woman said as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “I’m so glad you called. Dylan seems to be having a bit of difficulty breathing and claims he needs a treatment on his nebel—nubu-something?”
“Nebulizer,” Kate corrected. “It’s that machine that looks like a bread box. It turns his medicine into a mist. Please tell me Edward left it with you.”
“A machine? I don’t think so. He did bring in a bag of medicine. Perhaps one of those would help.”
In the background, she heard Dylan cough. The weak, raspy sound made her chest constrict in empathy. “Have you checked his air flow on the peak flow meter?”
“You know, they really need to make the numbers on those gadgets larger. How on earth is a person supposed to read such tiny print?”
“Perhaps you could get your reading glasses?” Kate suggested through gritted teeth.
“Yes, of course. Hold on a minute.”
“Anne, wait! Let me talk to Dylan while you’re hunting down your glasses.”
“Certainly.”
“Mom?” Dylan’s voice was so thin, she could barely hear him.
Oh, God. She bit her lip to keep from crying. If only she could reach through the phone and wrap him in her arms. In some corner of her mind, she felt a hand slip over hers and remembered that Mike sat beside her. Her fingers curled instinctively around his. “Hello, Dylan,” she said in as bright a voice as she could manage. “Grandma Anne says you’re not feeling too well.”
“Chest… hurts.” She heard him struggle to take in air past his constricted throat.
“I know, baby.” She closed her eyes, fighting back tears. “When your grandma comes back, I want you to blow as hard as you can into the tube, okay? Can you do that for Mommy?”
She heard Anne come back into the room and sat for an eternity, rocking back and forth with one hand clasping the phone to her ear, the other clinging to Mike. At last, Anne came back on the line and gave her the three readings.
No, please no! Kate wanted to scream. How could any reasoning adult let a child become this weak without seeking help? “Anne,” she said in a deadly calm voice, “I want you to listen to me very carefully. Dylan has got to get to the hospital. I’ll call the ambulance, but I want you to keep Dylan as calm as possible until they get there.”
“An ambulance?” Anne sounded offended at the thought. “Can’t you simply drive into town with whatever it is he needs?”
“Dammit, Anne!” She gripped the phone. “I don’t have time for one of your fits of denial. Dylan has asthma. Maybe you don’t want to face that fact, but right now he needs you. If he gets too agitated, his air passages will close up and he won’t be able to breathe. If he can’t breathe, he’ll die. Do you understand that? Is any of this getting through to you?”
“Well, there’s hardly any need to shout.”
“My son could be dying because of your negligence, and you think there’s no need to shout?”
“Perhaps you should talk to Henry,” Anne said, clearly ready to turn the whole situation over to her husband. But then, that was how Anne dealt with most things in life.
“I don’t need to talk to Henry.” Kate ground the words out. The last thing she needed was to have Henry Bradshaw brush her off as nothing but a hysterical female and say that Dylan was fine, the boy just needed to gut it up like a man. “All I need is for you to keep my son calm until help arrives.”
“Yes, of course, but all those sirens will wake the whole neighborhood.”
“Goodbye, Anne.” Kate ended the call and this time managed to dial the phone by herself. She gave the emergency operator the Bradshaws’ address and a quick rundown of the situation.
Not until she hung up did the full impact of her emotions hit her. She covered her mouth with her hand and fought back a sob. She didn’t have time to cry. She had to get to Dylan, but he seemed a million miles away.
“Kate?” Mike rubbed his hand in small circles over her back. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just take this one step at a time.”
She nodded. “Yes. Of course. I need to call Dylan’s doctor. Tell him to meet the ambulance at the hospital. And my parents. I should call my parents.”
“Do you need me to dial for you?”
“No. I’m fine.” She straightened her back.
“All right.” He rose in a rush to dress. “I’ll be topside getting us under way.”
“Mike?” she called as he started to leave. “How long will it take? To get to my car?”
“About two hours under motor power.” He must have seen her heart fall because he squeezed her hand one more time. “I’ll get you there as fast as I can.”
As he hurried from the berth, a thought suddenly hit her: Dear God, what if he hadn’t turned on his phone?
Chapter 19
*
AN AGONIZING THREE hours later, Kate burst into the emergency room with Mike right behind her. He’d insisted on driving her in his car, deeming her too shaky to be safe on the road. “Mom,” she called, seeing her parents waiting on plastic seats in the hallway.
They rose and hurried toward her, her mother reaching her first. “Katy.” Her mother’s arms enfolded her with gentle strength.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Kate returned the hug.
“And where else would I be, I’d like to know?” Mary Larson laughed lightly in her Irish brogue as her husband stood stoically by, offering his silent support.
Linda came up behind Kate’s parents, her worried expression more eloquent than any words.
“How’s Dylan?” Kate asked.
“The doctor’s in with him now,” her mother answered.
“No news, then?” Kate asked.
“Humph,” Mary snorted. “Only from the nurses, when they have a moment to spare, and they seem to be having precious few of those, if you ask me.”
For the first time, Kate noticed the chaos and noise around her. Sunday mornings in an ER were usually quiet. Yet a group of bikers filled the waiting area: some pacing, some bleeding, all of them angry and cursing. One of them, the leader she supposed, stood at the admittance counter spewing obscenities at the nurse.
“Where’s Anne?” Kate asked.
“She left just a moment ago,” Mary said.
“Figures.” Kate snorted.
“Now, Katy.” Her mother took on a stern look. “Anne did a fine job getting Dylan checked in and waiting until we arrived. Truth be told, she was that upset after talking to the doctor. I suggested she go home and wait for word there with her husband.” Mary’s face softened as she tucked a curl behind Kate’s ear. “The last thing you needed to deal with was Anne Bradshaw’s hysterics on top of worrying over Dylan.”
“Thank you.” Kate managed a smile of gratitude just as Dylan’s pediatrician emerged from one of the treatment rooms.
“Dr. Peterson.” Kate hurried toward him.
“Kate, good, I’m glad you’re here.”
“How’s Dylan?’
“Better now.” He gave her a cool look, as if wanting to voice all the things she already knew: that preventive steps in the early stages could have lessened the attack, and barring that, Dylan should have been admitted hours before he was.
“He was staying with his grandparents,” she offered lamely in her own defense. “Can I see him?”
“This way.” Dr. Peterson turned and led the way back toward the swinging doors. “We’ll be moving him to a private room soon.”
“Then you’ll be keeping him overnight?” The solid footing she’d fought to maintain all morning faltered. She glanced back over her shoulder. “My parents.”
“We’ll let them know the room number as soon as he’s been moved.”
“Yes, of course.” Numbly she followed the doctor down the hall, toward her son.
***
MIKE STOOD FOR a moment, staring after Kate, before he turned awkwardly to her parents. He offered a half-smile to the tall, slender woman with smooth blond hair and soft green eyes. “You must be Kate’s mother.”
“Aye.” The woman arched a brow. She had a quiet manner, neatly pressed clothes, and a sure, steady gaze. “And you would be…?”
“Mike Cameron.” He cleared his throat, wondering if Kate’s parents knew where their daughter had been when she received word about Dylan. “I’m a, uh, friend of Kate’s.”
“Cameron?” A frown flickered across her brow. “Oh, yes. The Scotsman whose grandfather sailed out of Glasgow some years back. Mary Pat mentioned you.”
“That would be me.” Relief washed over him as Kate’s mother offered her hand.
“I’m Mary Larson, and this is Kate’s father, Arthur.” She turned to the man at her side. “Arthur,” she repeated a bit louder.
“Hmm? What?” Kate’s father pulled his attention from the door through which his daughter had disappeared.
&nbs
p; “This is the young man Mary Pat told us about. Mike Cameron. Katy’s new man friend.”
Dr. Larson was a burly man with wild white hair and a steely gray beard. He looked perfectly at home in his slightly baggy pants and navy blue polo shirt, which he’d neglected to tuck in.
“Cameron, you say?” The surprisingly dark eyebrows came together in a frown as he gave Mike a quick once-over. “Yes, I seem to remember some mention of that name.”
Mike straightened instinctively. “Yes, sir. I’m pleased to finally meet you. Though I would have preferred different circumstances.”
“Yes,” the professor agreed before he returned his attention to the doors down the hall.
They waited another thirty minutes in the ER. Mike sat beside Kate’s father, listening absently as Kate’s mother and Linda talked in hushed tones.
Finally, a nurse stopped long enough to tell them Dylan’s room number before she hurried off again. By silent consent, Mike rode up in the elevator with the others. He hung back, though, as they made their way through the maze of corridors, then stopped altogether when they reached Dylan’s door.
He didn’t belong here, he realized. Not yet. He wasn’t family, even if he longed to be the one who sat at Kate’s side, held her hand, and worried along with her over her son.
That right had to be more than earned. It had to be granted. Discouraged, but far from defeated, he took a seat in the hall and began his own vigil.
***
KATE LOOKED UP when her parents and Linda entered. The unbearable tightness in her chest loosened a bit at the sight of them.
“How is he?” her mother asked as she moved quietly toward the bed, her eyes already fixed on Dylan.
“Sleeping now, thank goodness.” Kate turned back to the bed. Her son lay against the white sheets, his breathing fast and shallow. “He was so scared, though, Mom.” The tears rose hot and fast, clogging in her throat.
“I know.” Her mother leaned down to hug her.
“How could Anne do this?” Kate pulled back to swipe the moisture from her cheeks. “How could she let him get this bad? Doesn’t she have eyes and ears?”
Good Guy Heroes Boxed Set Page 19