[Love in New York 01.0] Lost and Found

by Elle Casey

  “We’re … uhhh … we’re … I’m not sure what we are. I’m her boyfriend maybe.” I wasn’t expecting that question. I’m flustered. I can’t tell him I’m the guy who just fell head over heels with a girl and then almost lost her. “Just hold on while I find a wheelchair.”

  I’m back in less than a minute, my game face on.

  “Took long enough,” says the old coot as he allows me to lower him into the chair, “I almost gave up on you.”

  I ignore his grouchiness and adjust the footplates of the chair so his footless leg can rest straight out in front of him. I’m sure gravity isn’t doing his pain levels any good, so letting it dangle is not an option, especially if I want this guy to open up and tell me what he knows. Now that I’ve seen his face, I realize he is privy to a lot more information concerning Leah than I could have imagined.

  “So, you’re her …. friend?” I ask, sure I’ve got it partly wrong and partly right. I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. Every time I meet a man in Leah’s life I could swear she’s related to him. This guy is no exception. He shares too many of her facial features not to be living in her family tree somewhere.

  “You could say that.” The old man stares straight ahead, his jaw set.

  I move around to the back of the chair and start to push. “If I were a betting man, I’d say you’re more like family.” When I get to the door I leave my duties as chair-pusher to open it. I wait there in the open doorway for his answer.

  He looks up at me scowling. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I point at his face. “It means that I can see the family resemblance.”

  The old guy rolls his eyes and lets out a long hiss of air.

  “Blow me off if you want, but I know bone structure.”

  “What, you some kind of artist or something?” He looks up at me, giving me the impression I’m being tested.

  “Something like that.” I move back around to push him. “She could use some family right now. She’s in a lot of pain.”

  “Her parents are dead,” he says.

  “So I’ve heard. But if she had other relatives, that would be nice for her. To have them here. To support her.”

  He says nothing.

  I wheel him down the hall and nod at the nurse as we go by. She stares at me for a few seconds and then goes back to her computer. Being a doctor easily recognized has its privileges.

  “What happened?” he finally asks. “To Leah.”

  I smile, hoping this means he’s rising to the bait. “I wish I could tell you, but if you’re not family …”

  I wait.

  He says nothing.

  I continue. “You know, HIPAA laws and so on. Privacy. I could let you see her for about a minute but then they’d kick you out. Unless you’re family. Then you could stay longer. Visit more frequently.”

  He grumbles something unintelligible.

  We enter the elevator. I wheel him in and make him face the wall, hoping it will be easier for him to talk to me if I’m not looking at him.

  “If you tell me you’re family, I’ll support you. I can see it in your face anyway, so it’s not like it’s the wrong thing to do.”

  For two floors he says nothing. Then, “Sometimes sleeping dogs should be let to lie.”

  I shrug. “And sometimes sleeping dogs should be woken up so they can go for a walk.”

  He grumbles again, but this time I can hear it clearly enough. “Ain’t no walking going to be happening any time soon for this old dog.”

  “That’s what wheelchairs are for. Walk. Roll. Same difference.”

  I pull him out of the open elevator doors and angle him to go down the hall. Leaning over, I speak quietly in his ear. “So, what’s it gonna be? Relative or not a relative?”

  I’m holding my breath without even realizing it, releasing it only when my chest starts to burn. I push him forward until we’re stopped just outside Leah’s door.

  “Relative,” he says finally. “I’m her uncle.”

  I smile as I push the door in. “That’s what I thought.”

  Chapter Eighty-One

  THE POLICE OFFICER IS TAKING notes on a legal pad from the chair next to me. She’s using my food table for support. I’ve told her my version of events, and now she’s telling me hers. I’m more than a little stunned at what I’m hearing.

  “Apparently, Mr. Goodman, the jeweler you visited, has a nephew with a rap sheet long enough to paper the walls in here with. He heard his uncle talking about a new customer with a big ring and he paid attention. It was him who showed up at the store and took your purse.”

  “Was it him who followed me on the subway?”

  “More than likely.” She frowns at her notes and scribbles something in the margin. “We are guessing he’s the one who attacked you outside the store, but without any eyewitness accounts, it’s hard to say. We’re trying to place him at the scene using video from nearby businesses, but it’s going to take a while to get warrants.”

  “Warrants?”

  “Yes. People don’t just hand video over these days.” She rolls her eyes.

  “That’s just mean,” I say, wondering if I should tell Belinda to put cameras up. I know she’d share her video footage if the police asked.

  The door opens and a leg appears, followed by a body in a wheelchair.

  I can’t stop the grin from appearing. “Mel! You came to see me!”

  He looks like he’s ready to growl. “Of course I came to see you. Let them try to keep me away.” He looks over his shoulder at James, his driver.

  My cheeks go pink as I realize what James has done for me. I feel uncharacteristically shy. I guess I’m not used to people being so considerate.

  “Thank you,” I say, feeling silly the way my body is heating up and I’ve started to perspire. This is completely inappropriate seeing as how we have visitors, but I can’t help it. James is frigging hot.

  “Couldn’t keep your uncle away, could I?” He grins big.

  Mel frowns and turns around. “Couldn’t wait, could ya?”

  James shrugs. “Time for the dogs to wake up, wouldn’t you say?”

  I look from one man to the other. “Dogs?”

  The police officer stands. “If you can think of anything else to add to your narrative here, just give me a call.” She places a business card on the table and then rolls it out of her way. “We’ll keep you posted if we find the perp.”

  I nod, still too confused by the earlier conversation to pay her much attention. As soon as she’s out of the room, I look at Mel. “What’s going on?”

  He reaches down and grabs the wheels of his chair, rolling himself toward me awkwardly. I can tell it causes him pain by the grimacing he’s doing. He’s not very good at navigating the chair yet. He bangs one of the wheels into the side of my bed, causing pain to flare up in my arm. I try to keep it out of my expression.

  “Your boyfriend here came and got me. Told me I needed to discuss some things with you.”

  I look up at James and he’s staring at me with the funniest look on his face.

  “James did that?”

  Mel jabs a thumb over his shoulder. “That guy. He’s your boyfriend, right? Said he was.”

  James lifts an eyebrow. “Actually, what I said was that I wasn’t sure what I am to you.”

  I’m having a hard time breathing.

  “But I’d like to be considered your boyfriend. Maybe even something more.” He steps closer to the bed and reaches into his pocket.

  “What the…” Mel stares at him.

  I suddenly can’t breathe.

  The door opens and Jana walks in with Cassie in her arms.

  “Oh my god,” I say in a whisper. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

  And then I do.

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  WE’RE ALONE WHEN SHE WAKES up.

  “Hi,” she says, a small smile coming to her lips. Her face flushes a beautiful pink.

  “Hi,” I say, brushing
some hair out of her face.

  “You scared me,” she says, whispering.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” I try to keep the sorrow out of my voice. Too fast. I pushed her too far, too fast. I have to learn to take my time with her. Give her the space she needs to adjust. I can’t screw this up; it’s too important.

  “I …” She doesn’t say anything after that.

  I turn around so she can see what’s behind me. I don’t want her to focus on the bad, on the things that I should have probably waited until she was on her feet to bring up. I want her to see the here and now. The easy part. The part where I convince her I’m worth taking a risk on.

  She frowns at it. “What’s that?” she finally asks.

  “It’s a television.”

  She looks up at the ceiling where a small black screen floats, attached to the wall. “What’s wrong with that TV?”

  “You can’t play videos on that one.”

  “Why do we need to play videos?” She seems to be warming up to the idea, no longer appearing panicked.

  “Because. According to a very trusted source, my upbringing has been deficient.” I pick up the remote and turn the television on.

  “What?”

  She’s adorable when she’s confused. I can’t help myself. I lean toward her and kiss her right on the mouth. She smiles, taking the edge off my stress.

  I lower my voice. “I figure if you and I are going to do this thing, I should be able to pick up on your pop culture references a little better.” I press the play button on the DVD remote. The movie Pretty Woman starts to roll.

  Leah begins to cry.

  I turn to her and wipe a tear away. “Why are you crying? I thought you’d be happy.”

  “I am happy, stupid.” She points at her face. “These are happy tears. Sad tears look like this.” She frowns for a second.

  I kiss her again, longer and slower this time. “Are we going to be okay?” I whisper.

  She nods and whispers back. “Yes, I think we are.”

  “Good.” I hold her hand in mine, the first scenes of the movie lost to me as I stare into her beautiful eyes.

  “Were you going to give me a ring?” she asks in the softest of voices. “Earlier? When everyone was here?”

  I smile and shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not.” I won’t tell her that it was a key to my condo wrapped up in a box. I thought it would be really romantic, but I should have known better — that ring boxes are scary shit to people like her and me.

  Her chin juts out. “You’d better tell me.”

  “How about we wait until you get home and then we’ll see.”

  “Home,” she says, sighing.

  I nod. “Home. My place. Our place.”

  “Are you totally and completely serious about this? Are you sure?” She searches my face, maybe trying to detect a lie about to come out.

  I nod. “Yes. I know I seemed reticent before, but that was just … nerves, I guess. This is a big step, but I’m ready. More than ready.”

  “Is it because I got my face smashed in?” she asks.

  I know she means to be funny, but my mouth quivers with the sorrow that wants to explode out of me.

  My voice is rough. “Your accident reminded me of another girl whose life ended way before any of us expected it to. It brought back her advice … she told me I have to listen to my heart when it’s talking to me, and right now, my heart is threatening to go on strike if I don’t get you into my life on a permanent basis.”

  “Permanent?” She pauses. “Sounds scary.”

  “No, not scary. Exciting. Like dressing up as a rapper and sneaking into a doctor’s office.”

  She tries not to smile but fails.

  “Are you going to tell your sister I did that?”

  “Do you want me to?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m going to.”

  She play-punches me. “You’re mean.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m nice.” I lean in and kiss her. Our tongues tangle together and her breath catches.

  I growl as I pull away. “Okay, not here. Not until you feel better.”

  She pouts. “I feel better.”

  I grin and turn toward the television. “Shhh … I’m watching Pretty Woman right now. Look. She’s a hooker.”

  Leah pats me on the arm. “Just wait. You’re going to love this.”

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  LATER, WHEN JAMES IS GONE, Mel rolls into my room. I was just drifting off, but seeing him perks me right up.

  “Hi, Mel!” I say brightly.

  He stops at the edge of my bed, banging into the frame. His navigating skills have only improved marginally.

  “Hi.” He’s frowning at me.

  I lose some of my happy vibe. “Are you mad at me?”

  He puts his hand on the rail of my bed. “Not at you.”

  “At James?”

  “No, at myself.” He looks down at his lap.

  “Why are you mad at yourself?”

  It takes him a long time to answer. “Because I haven’t been entirely honest with you is why.”

  I blink a few times, wondering what big secret he’s about to share. That he’s not homeless? I won’t believe that. No one can smell like he did and own a shower. I mean, some people can walk around with B.O. and not notice it, but the way he used to smell? No way. No way could anyone not notice that about himself. It’s like not realizing you have a dead animal in your pocket. Impossible. Even with a broken nose.

  “See … truth is … I’m your uncle.”

  It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in.

  “What?” I sit up a little straighter. I wish he’d look at me, but he’s staring at the floor now.

  “I’m your mother’s brother.”

  I shake my head. This does not compute. He’s obviously on some very strong painkillers. “No, Mel, my mother didn’t have a brother. She was an only child.” I pat his hand. Poor guy. Delusional. Needs meds for sure.

  He pulls his hand away and rests it in his lap. “Your adoptive mother was an only child. Your biological mother had a brother. Me.”

  I keep shaking my head. I feel a little sick now. Maybe I should press the nurse button and have security take him out of here. I think he belongs in bed. “No. No. You’re wrong.”

  Mel finally looks up at me. “I don’t think I am. I did the research. I tracked you and your brother to Manhattan.”

  Now I’m getting angry. Screw compassion; he’s messing with my family. “I don’t have a brother. You need to go get your meds checked Mel, cuz you’re crazy talking right now.” I’m considering pressing the nurse button again, but Mel distracts me.

  “Sweetie, I guess at this point I wish I were wrong. I can see it’s upsetting you, and that’s the last thing I wanted. I just …” He pauses and then starts backing his wheelchair out of the room.

  He’s halfway out the door he had to wrestle to move when I can’t take it anymore.

  “Mel! Wait.”

  He pauses half in and half out.

  I can’t help but ask. “What research?”

  He rolls forward just enough to let the door shut. “Adoption records. Birth certificates. My sister told me about you and your brother before she passed. I swore to her that I’d find you and give you something.”

  “But it’s not me.” Flashes of James telling me I looked like Ralph slam through my brain.

  It can’t be real. It can’t. I had two parents who are both dead. I had no siblings. They would have told me I was adopted.

  Mel interrupts my brain scramble. “You were born on June twenty-fifth, nineteen eighty-five at four fifteen in the morning. Your twin brother was born at four twenty-eight in the morning. Your parents were teenagers. Prom dates, in fact. I have a picture. You look just like her.” He starts to tear up. “Just like her. Same eyes. Same lips. They were too young. His family wanted it kept secret. She had to give you up, but she never stopped thinking about you. Never.” He fumbl
es with his blanket over his legs. A few seconds later he brings out a piece of paper. His hands are trembling, making it flutter between us. “Look.”

  Part of me wants to grab whatever it is and rip it into tiny shreds. The other is too curious to let that part of me win out. I take the thing in my hand and turn it over. It’s an old photograph of two teenagers standing next to each other in front of an ancient station wagon.

  My heart stops beating when I get the sensation that I’m looking at a photograph of myself taken years before I could have been born. And standing next to me is a man who has the same crazy hair and freckles that I have.

  “I don’t … I can’t …” I’m suddenly too tired to deal with anything, let alone this nonsense. I let the photograph fall to my leg as I close my eyes. “Time to go to sleep,” I say, my voice fading out as I drift away. I have no dreams, and for that I’m deeply grateful. Bye-bye world. Bye-bye.

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  WHEN SHE FINALLY WAKES UP again, I’m sitting by her bedside. As soon as her eyes open and lock on me, a grin comes over my face, unbidden. The clarity to her gaze is back, thank God.

  “Sleeping Beauty is awake.” I kiss her fingers. I can’t keep my hands off her. I just want to get her home and back in my bed where I can keep her safe.

  “Sleeping Beauty is going insane,” she says. She moves her tongue around in her mouth, wincing. “How long have I been here without a toothbrush, anyway?”

  “This is your second day. They tried to kick you out, but I intervened.”

  “Good. But I’m ready to go now. Can you take me home?”

  My heart jumps at the word home. I love that it means my condo. “I can take you anywhere you want to be.”

  “Don’t you have surgeries to do or something?”

  “I performed a couple. Cancelled a few more. They can wait.”

  She gives me a sexy grin. “I’ll bet you’ve never said that before in your life.”

  “You’d win that bet.”

  I smile and she smiles back. Then her face falls and I watch her happiness fade out.