“You’re a Gates. That’s something. You’ll get your due, I know it. Wes loved you. He’ll take care of you.” Lillian tried to take her by the arm.
“Don’t touch me!” She yanked her arm away, swung around. “He’ll take care of me, all right. He’s taken away from me the only man I really loved. I’m going to Wes. He has some explaining to do. Where did they take him?”
“Cedars.”
Clenching her teeth, she glared at Lillian. “I want you to go back to San Francisco. You have no further business here.”
“This is it?” Lillian asked in the saddest tone she had ever heard come from her mother.
“For giving me birth, thank you. Everything else, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to work through. As for Wes, I don’t know what I’m going to do. You go back to your recliner, your cigarettes, and your booze. Your asylum.” She fell silent, choking back tears.
She looked like a broken doll. Her wrinkles deepened, making her look like her face had cracked. The tears streaked what little eye makeup she wore. Her lower lip trembled. For a brief moment, Della wanted to take her in her arms, say she was sorry, but the anger returned. She stepped back. “You’d better leave, Ma.”
Della grabbed her bag from the bed where she’d thrown it earlier and left without saying another word. Downstairs, she had her car brought to the front. She burned rubber leaving the circular drive of the hotel. The wave of nausea from earlier returned. If Wes wasn’t so ill, she’d be as angry at him as she was her mother. And Steven. He’d been duped, too. She had fallen hopelessly in love with her half-brother. What if she’d gotten pregnant? She shivered. She had lost the first man she truly loved, a man she knew would have been good for her.
The houses and buildings she passed were a blur as her mind replayed every word Lillian had said. What proof was there? Della hadn’t submitted to any tests. Maybe this was all a mistake? A rush of hope coursed through her. That’s it! This was pure fantasy. She would prove it. She’d insist on a DNA.
Poor Carrie had suffered all those years. Now, Della understood why. No wonder Carrie had gained so much weight, was so antagonistic toward her! Carrie’s life must have been hell until Wes finally had the balls to confess.
The more she thought about Wes, the angrier she became over his deceit. And to think he’d paid Lillian ten thousand dollars to have her aborted! What a surprise it must have been for him when he discovered she was alive and well, living in Disneyland. She slammed the steering wheel with her palm, screaming at the top of her lungs, “You son of a bitch!”
What if he died? How would she feel then? She remembered all his kindnesses, his understanding, his guidance, the way he’d nurtured her through some of her toughest times–her marriage and divorce from Rick, how Wes outwitted Jack Davis, helping her get even with him for firing her. The endless wonderful things he’d done for her over the years assuaged some of her anger. She must see him, talk to him, make some sense out of this mess.
She plowed on through traffic, rethinking her career, how she had risen–with Wes’s help, of course. She had no talent. Any success she’d achieved was due to his “fatherly” love. Jack Davis didn’t think she had any talent; he fired her. Wes picked up the pieces. She wasn’t even able to find a job in the travel business back then. Maybe Jack hadn’t blackballed her at all, maybe she just didn’t have the skills she thought she did.
Rush hour traffic swarmed around her. The heat of the day had grounded and sent up a mirage of clear, rippling heat waves in front of her car. She flipped on the radio to see if there was anything on the news about Wes. Sports and weather were all she heard driving to the hospital. She stopped at lights, made her turns as if everything were computerized in her brain.
Cedars towered ahead. The thought of walking up to Wes’s bedside, seeing him hooked up on all those tubes and monitors sickened her. What if Carrie were there, Steven, and Iris? How would they react to her? Being Wes’s daughter didn’t give her a feeling of support, or of belonging; she was still an outsider.
If Wes died, her whole life would change.
Riding a wave of near-hysteria, she pulled into the visitor parking lot, grabbed her purse, locked her car and headed for the main entrance of the hospital at a run.
Inside, the volunteer at the desk directed to critical care. The perspiration left traces on her blouse, her forehead and her palms. In the waiting area outside ICU, she buzzed the nurses’s station. “I’m Della Garland. I’d like to visit Wes Gates, please.”
“One moment.” The speaker cut off, then came back on. “I’m sorry, Miss Garland, your name isn’t on the visitor list.”
“What does that mean?” Of course she knew, but she was so rattled, she asked in spite of herself.
Following a long pause. “I’m sorry, but I can’t admit you.”
“Mr. Gates is my father. I thought all family members are permitted to visit.”
“Not on this unit, ma’am. One moment, please. I’ll check with Mrs. Gates. Please have a seat.”
Della was on the outside. She found a chair two feet away from the speaker. She sat staring at the little button, waited, tears welling up. She held them in check.
The static in the speaker brought her to attention. “Miss Garland?”
She jumped from her seat, hit the button on the speaker. “Yes?” she said, hope in her voice.
“I’m sorry, but Mrs. Gates said there were to be no more visitors at this time. She did ask me to tell you he’s resting comfortably and they won’t know anything about his prognosis for twenty-four hours.” The intercom snapped off.
She had been summarily dismissed. Panic swept through her. She had to see Wes, talk to him, find out if he was really her father. She stumbled to a chair and sat, staring off into space, bereft and alone.
The outer doors to the waiting room swung open and Steven ran in, out of breath and red-faced from running. “Della!” he said, desperation in his voice. He reached out for her, threw his arms around her. “I just heard. Is he okay? I went to the hotel. They told me Dad was brought here. I hurried down as fast as I could.” He stepped back, his hands grasping her shoulders. “Have you seen him?”
“They won’t let me in. Your mom is with him. My name isn’t on the list.”
“I’ll make sure you’re on. Is he doing okay?”
“I don’t know. Lillian said he had a heart attack.”
“Shit!” Tears welled up in his eyes. He pulled her close to him and gently kissed her cheek. “Wait for me. I’ll get your name on the list.” He went to the intercom and asked to be admitted. After he gave his name, the buzzer on the door shattered the silence. He stepped inside, looked back, forced a smile. The doors closed behind him.
By his touch and tender kiss, she realized he didn’t know anything.
Mr. Wonderful was about to be snatched from her heart. Though she’d always wanted a brother or sister, he wasn’t it. She loved him. Until she met him, she thought love was a good-looking, fast-moving guy who made her knees wobble, shook her up in bed, stroked her ego, made her feel needed. Her first thought when she met a guy was, let’s get married pronto, can’t risk losing him. She tacked his last name to her first name to see if they sounded right. If he was away, she wondered if he were being unfaithful. Sometimes she’d even check. With Steven, she felt different. They started out working together, became fast friends; then their friendship caught fire. He taught her understanding, about honesty between two people, that miles didn’t separate them. With him, she felt calm, secure and unthreatened. They had all the time in the world for their love and their future. He taught her about one day at a time, and how to make the most of each day. He told her, “Yesterday was history, tomorrow is a mystery, and today is a present.” Their relationship grew stronger. Her feelings for him lifted her up, made her better than she was before. For the first time in her life, she thought she understood what love was. And it wasn’t brotherly love.
Steven reappeared. He stood motion
less at the double doors, his face as white as snow, his eyes as cold as ice.
Either Wes had died, or he knew the truth about her.
21
“How’s your dad?” She was afraid for Wes, and afraid of what Steven’s reaction would be to the news about her.
“You mean our dad?” he said. He strode to her, an intense expression on his face. “He’s stable. No change.” He took her by the elbow, led her through the quiet waiting room. “Doctor Gold said we could use his conference office to talk. It’s on this floor, down the hall.” Steven’s tone was calm, almost monotone.
Inside the conference room, she trembled, afraid to speak the first words. The office was more like a large closet, with barely enough room for a table and consultation chairs a few feet from the door. Steven sat to the left. Sunlight seeped through half-closed blinds, and minute flecks of dust danced through the streams of light. She sat on the right.
He rocked his chair. It creaked, breaking through the deafening silence between them. If he were her brother, wouldn’t she have sensed something? Relatives had an inexplicable feel about each other, didn’t they? She didn’t feel anything inexplicable for Steven or Wes. They were strangers, riding on the same train. He wasn’t her brother. She knew he wasn’t in her heart. What the hell was family if you couldn’t sense they were family? She had no doubt in her mind about Lillian being her mother.
“When did you find out?”
“This morning. We were supposed to be told at the same time. Lillian put two and two together the day you told her your name.”
“This is a fucking mess.”
“I love you. You can’t be my brother.” She stood, her hands on her hips, trembling. “I won’t have it.”
He leaned back with his hands behind his head, his eyes misted. “I love you, too. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. I’m lost. I wanted to marry you when the time was right. In my mind, I had a family planned for us. Now, we’re family. I was just going to wait you out, since you were so nervous about taking a third plunge. Guess we don’t have to worry about that now, do we?”
“No, I guess not.”
Steven sounded the same, looked the same. She loved him the same, but he wasn’t the same. She sat, reached over, pulled his arm down from behind his head and took his hand in hers, kissed his strong, warm fingers. “I don’t care who you are. I love you, and I don’t know what I’m going to do about all this.” She brightened. “I bet they’re wrong.”
His eyes filled with a heartbreaking sadness. “I don’t think so. I see too much of my dad in you. You don’t look like him, but you act like him. He didn’t raise you, but you have so many of his traits, more than I do. You have cunning business instincts, the kind you’re born with. You even have the same mischievous quirk in your personality. I’ve never met two people who enjoyed putting something over on someone as much as you two do.” The sadness in his eyes cleared and he laughed, then he became serious again. “My mother’s praying along with us there’s a mistake. She’s insisting on a DNA test.
“Doctor Gold said when we’re finished talking, you can go in and see Dad. The nurse’ll draw the blood for your test. Mom’s not going to leave a stone unturned.”
“I won’t, either.” She paused. “What about us? What are we going to do?”
“I’m going to stay with Mom until there’s nothing more I can do for Dad, then I’m going back to New York.” He squeezed her hand, a tear slipping from his lower lid.
True love had eluded her again, like she wasn’t meant to love. The old adage, “like mother, like daughter,” was true. Lillian never married, and Della was beginning to believe it wasn’t because she never wanted to, more because she couldn’t find the right man.
Steven scanned the desk. “Doesn’t this guy have any tissues around this joint? This is a room where they tell people they’re dying, or someone else they love is dying.”
She reached in her purse, pushed stuff around until she found a travel-size package of tissue. She handed him one.
He dabbed his eyes. “I’m making a fool of myself. I can’t believe I’m losing my dad and the only woman I’ve ever loved, all in one fell swoop.” He rose, gathering strength. “Doctor Gold’s the best. If anyone can save Dad, it’s him.”
“Steven, I’m afraid. Wes and I have so much to talk about. I’m afraid he won’t be there for me. He’s been like my father. Without him, I can’t make it. He gave me the security I needed to do my job. I was confident with him always in the background, nudging me on. I was fearless. He’s the reason I’m here.” Her anger with Wes had been replaced by her fear of losing him. She’d have to forgive both her parents if she wanted to get on with her life.
They stood face to face. He placed his hands on her shoulders, gazed into her eyes. “You have nothing to be afraid of. Dad said you did everything on your own. That’s why he was so impressed with you, promoted you. Believe me, he didn’t give you promotions because you’re his daughter. He may have hired you for that reason, but you had to make it on your own. Dad was never a pushover for family. He didn’t even give a damn that I wanted to do something else with my life. Now, that takes a helluva man. Every guy I know thinks his son should follow in his footsteps.”
“Your mother will throw me out of Gates if anything happens to your dad.”
“Our dad.”
“I can’t, Steven. Please. He’s Wes to me.” Wes and Lillian together were unimaginable to Della. Why would he resort to a prostitute when he could have had anyone he wanted? Though Lillian was a beauty back then, Della still couldn’t put them together. This was all going to fall apart, she just knew it.
“What should I do, Steven?”
“About what?”
“Work. Should I back off until we hear something about Wes’s health?”
“Absolutely not. You’re a vice president. And you will be, no matter what happens to Dad, unless the board decides otherwise. I can’t see that happening.” He took both Della’s hands in his. “Get back in there. Kick ass. Go after Phillip Henshaw. You’ve been putting that little number off too long. You won’t have any help, but you can really prove your worth by pinning that creep up against the wall. We both know he’s up to something, and it ain’t anything kosher.”
“What about Carrie? She’s as protective of him as she is of you. That’s why I’ve stayed clear of him.”
“She doesn’t run the business. Maybe the board will choose one of you VP’s to run things on an interim basis.”
“Not me,” she said. “I’m not ready for that.”
“Are you ready to face the next few weeks?” He wrapped his arms around her, kissed her forehead. “I want to kiss your mouth so badly, I burn inside. But I can’t.” He pulled her to his chest.
“I think I need a couple of days to hide,” she said.
“No. You get back to work. There’s nothing we can do for Dad but pray for him, sit by him, and wait. The company must go on. He wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Carrie won’t let me in to see him.”
“The list is set up that whenever she’s not here, you can go in. You’re on the visitor’s list.”
“She really hates me, doesn’t she?”
“She’s afraid and jealous.”
“Same thing.”
“Della?” He took her cheeks in his hands and gazed into her eyes. “Show me how strong you really are. Show me the woman I love and admire so much can win, no matter what happens to Dad. There’s a whole lot of unfinished business ahead of us. You ready?”
She nodded, savoring his strength, his love, his support. How would she survive without him when he returned to New York?
He took her hand and they made their way back to the unit. He buzzed the nurse to see if Carrie had left. The nurse said yes, and let them in.
She felt wobbly making her way down the sterile, quiet unit. Her heart hammered at the thought of seeing the man whose strength she had come to rely on, now weakened and unable to f
end for himself, let alone her.
Then she saw him. He looked exactly as she’d pictured him over and over. He was pale. Except for the steady rising and falling of his massive chest, he looked lifeless. She walked to his side, leaned over, started to kiss his forehead, thought better of it, kissed her fingers and placed them on his forehead. Why she hadn’t kissed him directly, she didn’t know.
If by some stroke of luck she wasn’t Wes’s daughter, Steven would be back in her life again. If Wes woke up, this nightmare would be over and everything would return to normal. Life would go on.
She pulled up the chair next to Wes’s bed, eased herself down, gently laid her hand on his arm. Steven’s hand was on her shoulder.
The only sound in the room was their breathing, the beeping of the monitor, and a slight rattle of the blinds from the air-conditioning. She stared at a stranger. Steven squeezed her shoulder and removed his hand.
“Wes,” she whispered. “I love you. Please wake up. We have to talk. I’m so confused and unhappy. You’re the only one who can answer my questions.” To release the painful lump in her throat, she allowed the backed-up tears to flow. She lowered her head to the bed and wept as her world unraveled. When there were no more tears and the painful lump had subsided, she sat up and turned to Steven for solace.
She was alone.
Steven had slipped out.
She was grateful.
She rang for the nurse, who promptly came in, took Della’s arm, cleaned it with alcohol and deftly inserted the needle, then drew the fluid that would change her life forever.
The nurse left. She leaned down and this time, she kissed Wes’s forehead. His skin felt clammy. She shivered. “You can’t die, Wes. You and I have a lot of things to accomplish. Can you hear me?” He remained still, breathing steadily. “I’ll be back,” she said as if she were leaving his office, talking to him under normal circumstances.
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