by Dorie Graham
“Okay, but none of that says why you think he can help.”
“Well, when you’re with a guy sexually, you know how that empathic thing happens and you can feel what he’s feeling?”
Irritation grated through Erin. “You’re assuming I experience the gift like you do.”
“I know it’s different for all of us, but you know what I’m saying.”
Yes, with Jack, Erin had felt it. “I guess so.”
“See, I think—and Nikki agrees—that since there seems to be this reciprocal emotional thing happening, then there can also be this reciprocal healing. The healer in some cases, with the right man, becomes the healee, healed in essence by her own gift, intensified through her lover, someone who loves her like no other.”
Erin sighed. “It sounds incredibly romantic, but I don’t know. This is all a lot of conjecture.”
“But what can it hurt? They have a deep and abiding love for each other. One doesn’t breathe without the other knowing about it. They have everything going except for the sex.”
“But maybe there’s a reason for that. Like they aren’t attracted to each other in that way.”
“I’m not so sure. I’ve seen how they look at each other sometimes. I can’t believe that in all these years they haven’t thought about it.”
“So what are you proposing?” Erin asked, knowing she didn’t want to hear the answer.
“That we nudge them into an affair.”
“How?”
“A romantic setting, candlelight, soft music, a bottle of wine. I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I think we should think about the consequences. What if we get them to hook up, your theory’s a bust and then they split up because it’s too weird and we never see Thomas again. Sex can ruin a relationship. Believe me, I know.”
“But I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Tess insisted.
“You have no way of telling. And you’re gambling with Maggie’s happiness.”
“That’s right, it’s a gamble to hopefully save her eyesight and to maybe—just maybe—help her find her one true love. The one who’s been right there in front of her from the beginning. Isn’t it worth a shot?”
A mixture of emotions swirled through Erin: worry that they might be doing the wrong thing, uncertainty about the possible outcome and an unquenchable hope that Tess could be right, not just for Maggie and Thomas but for all of them. If something this wondrous could work for her mother, then could it be that she herself had some chance at happiness?
She turned to Tess. “When do we try it?”
“I don’t know. How about now? Aunt Sophie’s in the kitchen brewing up whatever she brews. I think they’re watching TV. We could go in and mess with the lights and the setting.” She stood. Excitement shone in her eyes. “Come on, we’ll figure it out as we go.”
Erin rose to trail after her. “Seduction on a wing and a prayer. This should be interesting.”
“ERIN, IT’S JACK. PLEASE pick up. I’ve thought about what you said and I don’t know if it’s true or not, but it doesn’t matter.” He pressed his hand to where the vise gripped his chest. “All I know is that I’ve felt like hell since you walked out of here yesterday and all I want is for you to come back. Please, baby, give me a call.”
He hung up and stared at the phone in his hand. A night of rest hadn’t done him much good. Not that he’d been able to sleep. The bed was too big and empty, and Erin’s scent covered the sheets.
Where was she? What was she doing? If she didn’t call soon, he might have to drive over to her apartment to look for her.
His doorbell sounded. His pulse quickened. Could it be Erin? He strode to yank open the door, but Amanda stood on his step.
She pushed inside past him, into the living room. “You look like hell.”
“You know, Amanda, that isn’t the best way to greet a guy.”
“It’s true. You look worse than you did the other day, and that was pretty bad. What’s up? Still sick with that bug?”
“No.”
She moved in front of him, frowning. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get you some juice or something. What do you have?”
“There’s orange juice that should be fairly drinkable.”
“I’ll check the expiration date.” She moved off into the kitchen, where she banged around for a few moments before returning with two glasses. She handed him one. “It’s still good.”
“Thanks.” He sipped the cold drink and it did feel good going down. Had he eaten today?
Pressing his hand to his chest, he eased into one of the living room chairs. “Take a load off.”
“I’m on my way to power walk along South Beach. You up for it?”
“I probably should, but I’ll take a rain check today.”
She frowned. “Your ticker’s acting up again, isn’t it? Do I need to call someone?”
“I’m fine.” He grated the words through clenched teeth. “Just having an off day.”
“Sorry. Sure you shouldn’t take something?”
“I took my meds this morning. I’ll be okay. Just need to take it easy.”
“Okay. So yesterday was D-day, wasn’t it? I forgot, but I had it marked on my calendar.”
D-day was her abbreviation for Death Day. “It’s probably pretty twisted that we get together for a big feast on those days, but Mom gets so melancholy, and when she feels that way she cooks and bakes.”
“So how was it?”
“She ran into a friend of Stace’s who’s married and has a kid. She took it pretty hard. Can’t seem to stop all the what-ifs.”
“I’m sorry, Jack.” She squeezed his arm. “At least she has the rest of you there for her.”
“Yeah, for now.” He patted her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did. You’re really worried about your heart, aren’t you?”
“I may call the doctor tomorrow and talk to him again about the surgery.”
“It’s getting worse?”
He shrugged. “I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Either I get the surgery and put everyone through the hell of worrying I’ll end up like Stacey, or I ignore it like my old man did and wait for it to cut me down one day out of the blue.”
“What about your sexual healer? What’s happening with her?”
“I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “She kind of dumped me yesterday.”
“I’m not so sure that’s a bad thing. She wasn’t what I’d expected.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t seem to have that healing vibe. I pictured her all in control and serene, but she seemed almost distraught. So she dumped you and you’re feeling bad. Let’s look at the other alternatives. What about magnetic therapy? I was reading about that the other day and I think it might be worth a shot.”
“I don’t want to try any more whacked-out alternative therapies. I want Erin. She has the magic touch. Maybe I got a little sick each time, but then I’d feel great—better than great—and I didn’t have a single problem with my heart the whole time we were together.”
“You think she made you sick? I don’t know, Jack. I don’t think she’s so good for you. You haven’t looked that great these past few days. Maybe her healing magic isn’t working with you and your heart doesn’t need the extra strain. Maybe it would be best to cut your losses in this case.”
He didn’t answer, just stared at the phone in his hand. He hadn’t realized he was still holding it. Had she gotten his message yet?
“I’m going to head out, unless you need me to stick around,” Amanda said.
“No, you go ahead. Enjoy the beach. I’ll catch you next time.” He walked her out, then headed back to his bed. The room swam around him and he collapsed in a heap, a dull pain in his chest.
12
ERIN PAUSED OUTSIDE Jack’s door the following afternoon. She felt horrible. Not only had she screwed up everything with Jack by sleeping with him, but also
she’d let Tess talk her into that ridiculous plot to set up Thomas and Maggie.
What a disaster that had been. Maggie had caught on to them before they’d gotten the candles lit. Needless to say, she’d been none too pleased with their meddling.
Now Erin had to face her situation with Jack—or at least figure out how to tie up his project in record time, then get the hell out of Dodge. She’d had good reason to set that policy of not dating clients.
She’d called and he hadn’t answered, so hopefully he wasn’t home. She couldn’t face him right now.
She pulled out the key he’d given her, then opened the door. She’d take some measurements, then she’d be able to finish up the plans she’d started for him.
The house was quiet as she’d hoped. Jack didn’t seem to be around. “Hello? Jack? Anyone here?”
She listened for a minute, then pulled her tape measure from her purse, as well as her pen and notebook, and set her things on the coffee table. Tape measure in hand, she marked the dimensions of the room, then recorded them in her notebook.
As she headed into the next room, words from the message Jack had left on her answering machine drifted over her.
All I know is that I’ve felt like hell since you walked out of here yesterday and all I want is for you to come back.
How many times had she picked up the phone to call him? She’d replayed that message at least a dozen times just to hear his voice. But she hadn’t called and here she was sneaking around while he was gone.
She laid down the tape measure, then walked the length of the formal dining room, doing her best to focus on the job at hand. She had to tie this project up as quickly as possible. She’d found some great artwork for this room, if Jack agreed to the color scheme she’d chosen.
She recorded the dimensions of the dining room, then moved on to the kitchen. She should finish up pretty quickly. Still, thoughts of him crowded her mind.
What had he meant when he’d said he’d felt like hell since she walked out? Did he mean emotionally or physically?
Memories of her last morning with him rolled over her. Waking from that wet dream to find it wasn’t a dream at all. She closed her eyes and pushed the memory away. She couldn’t think about that now. Jack had probably paid dearly for that little bit of heaven.
At least he’d been well enough to go out. Whatever illness may have visited him after they’d made love was hopefully short-lived. As far as any emotional discomfort she may have caused him, surely that would be short-lived, as well. He’d get over her. Just as she’d get over him.
Eventually.
She measured the kitchen, then moved down the hall toward his bedroom. How could she work in there with all those memories of him hanging about? She squinted into the darkened room. He hadn’t made the bed or opened the blinds.
She moved to the window. A little sunlight wouldn’t hurt the place. She’d change these blinds for a nice set of drapes.
With a twist of her fingers she flooded the room with daylight. A movement from the bed startled her. She turned, her hand to her heart. Jack struggled to his side to blink at her, his eyes bleary and filled with pain.
“Oh, my God, Jack.” She rushed to him, her stomach twisting at the sight of him. “What’s happened? What have I done to you?”
He clasped her hand, his grip weak. “It wasn’t you, baby.”
“Then what? What’s wrong?” She smoothed her hand over his cheek, her heart breaking over his obvious pain. “What’s hurting you, Jack?”
“My…heart.”
“Your heart? What’s wrong?” Alarm raced up her spine. She looked around for his phone. “We should call someone. Are you having a heart attack?”
He shook his head. “I have a bad ticker. I was born with it. It’s been acting up a little lately.”
“What do I do? Do you have pills or something?” Her own heart thudded. Panic gripped her.
He grimaced and squeezed her hand. “I’m so glad you came. We need to talk.”
“We will. We’ll talk all you want, but we have to take care of you first. I’m going to call your doctor, okay?”
He nodded.
“Where’s his number?”
“In my wallet, on the dresser. Dr. Carmichael.” He closed his eyes.
Erin frantically scanned the contents of his wallet until she found the card. “Phone, where’s the phone?”
She tossed aside clothes and bed coverings until she unearthed the phone. She tried the number three times before she punched it in correctly. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she waited through four rings.
Finally a recording answered and she bit her lip as she listened to the options. After what seemed an eternity, she got a live person on the line. “Hello, my name is Erin McClellan. I’m a friend of Jack Langston’s, who is a patient of Dr. Carmichael’s.”
“Do you have Mr. Langston’s health-record number?”
“This is a bit of an emergency. Mr. Langston isn’t well.” She pawed through the contents of his wallet she’d left sprawled across his dresser until she found what looked like an insurance card.
“Try this.” She read the number to the woman. “He’s really not at all well—”
“One moment, please, while I pull up his record.”
“Would it be possible to speak with Dr. Carmichael?”
“Dr. Carmichael is with a patient. What are Mr. Langston’s symptoms?”
“He’s in pain. I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s his heart.”
“Is he conscious?”
She glanced at him. “I think so.”
“Miss, if there’s a chance that he’s having a heart attack, you need to hang up and dial nine-one-one for emergency assistance.”
“Oh, God, of course. I’ll do that.” She hung up and dialed nine-one-one.
Stupid. Stupid. Why had she wasted time calling the doctor?
“Nine-one-one.”
She gripped the phone. “Hi, I need help. I think my friend may be having a heart attack.”
“Okay, stay calm. Let me verify the address and we’ll get a unit out to you right away.”
She verified the address, then answered a number of questions, all while the clock ticked away the minutes. Precious minutes that she’d wasted by not calling nine-one-one immediately, by not calling Jack when she’d gotten his message.
“Is he conscious?”
“Yes.”
“Is he having pain anywhere else besides his chest?”
“Jack, does it hurt anywhere else?”
He shook his head.
“No, just his chest.”
“Any other symptoms? Nausea, sweating, shortness of breath?”
“Jack, any nausea, sweating or shortness of breath?”
Again he shook his head.
“No.”
“How long has he been having the pain?”
“I’m not sure. Here, I think he can talk to you.” She held the phone to Jack’s ear.
He scooted to more of a sitting position. “Hello…off and on since…last night, but it’s gotten really bad just in the last ten minutes…or so.”
He nodded and answered a few more short questions, his words halting. Then he thanked the operator and hung up. He met her gaze and gave her hand a squeeze. “Thanks, baby. They’re dispatching a unit. It should be here in the next fifteen minutes. I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this. Thought I’d be okay.”
“You’re sorry?” Her throat burned. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back yesterday. I’m sorry you’re having this pain. What can I do?”
“Hold me.”
It didn’t seem enough, not nearly enough, but she held him. He turned to her. “We…should talk.”
“Later. I promise. You save your strength for now. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be around to talk all you want after this.”
That seemed to satisfy him for the moment. He closed his eyes, and the quiet of the house settled over them. She soothed her hand over
his chest and wished more than ever that she possessed some kind of healing power.
What she wouldn’t do for this man.
At long last the doorbell rang. She eased herself from him, careful not to jostle him. Then she ran to the door, but it wasn’t the paramedics. Jack’s friend Amanda stood on his front step.
“Amanda.”
“Hi. Erin, right? I thought you two split up.”
“This isn’t a good time. Jack isn’t well.”
A siren sounded in the distance.
Amanda frowned. “Where is he?”
The siren grew louder and an ambulance turned onto the street. Erin sighed in relief. “Thank God.”
She left the door open and hurried back to the bedroom, Amanda on her heels. “What happened?” Amanda asked.
“I don’t know. I came here a short while ago and found him like this. He’s having chest pain.”
“Oh, Jack.” Amanda placed her hand on his forehead. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, buddy.”
“The paramedics are here,” Erin said as the siren stopped and doors slammed in the driveway. She hurried out to find two uniformed paramedics carrying in a stretcher. “This way.”
She stepped back as the paramedics took over. Moments later she stood outside the ambulance with Amanda as they loaded Jack into the vehicle. She turned to Amanda. “Do you know how to contact his family?”
“He’s not going to want them to know.”
“Why not? He’s close to his family. I know that much.”
“Right, but what you may not know is that yesterday was D-day at the Langston’s. That’s short for Death Day. They have two of them every year. One to mark the day Jack’s father died of a heart attack and one to mark the day his sister died. That was yesterday’s. Seems they have a bad heart valve that runs in their family. Jack’s grandfather had the same problem and died in his late thirties from it. Stacey, Jack’s younger sister, was just sixteen when she started having problems. They did open-heart, but she didn’t make it.”
Erin stared at her, stunned. “I had no idea.”