by K. C. Wells
“No, he’s there alone. Break down the damned door if you have to, I don’t care. Please, you have to help him.” I swallowed hard, trying to rein in the panic.
“In cases like this, the police will also be sent to the address,” she told me. “Don’t worry, they’ll get in. Can you get there?”
“I’m at work but leaving now. It’s still going to be about forty-five minutes before I can get there.”
“The ambulance will take him to the Royal Infirmary.” I thanked her and disconnected the call. After that everything was a blur. Brian told me to take as much time as I needed. One of the guys took my keys and drove me to the hospital, before taking a taxi back to the office.
Once inside the hospital, I went straight to the reception desk and was directed to A&E. Only, they wouldn’t let me in to see him. I wasn’t a blood relative or listed as his next of kin. I gave them the number for Maggie and then sank down onto what had to be the most uncomfortable plastic chair ever. My mind was awash with questions.
Like I could sit there and do nothing. I got out my phone and scrolled through the contacts.
Will’s voice was full of sleep, and I noted the time. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t think you’d be asleep at this time of the day.”
He yawned. “Did on-call last night for this agency I work for. I didn’t get to bed until five.”
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“Stop apologizing, I’m awake now. What’s going on?” He tried to sound cheerful, but I knew him well enough. He was grumbly when he didn’t get his sleep.
“Jarod’s in the hospital. I think he had a heart attack.” Instantly Will became the alert professional, asking questions in a rapid-fire pace. I didn’t have the answers and told him so. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I was….” My voice trailed off.
“You were afraid,” Will filled in. “Perfectly understandable in the circumstances. If it were my boy, I would be beside myself. Let me see what I can find out. Jarod…. What’s his surname?” I told him. “Okay, I’ll call you back when I know something.”
“Oh, thank you, Will.” My voice sounded tiny. He was right. I was so afraid. I glanced around the waiting room, noting people milling about, and I wanted to scream, “Don’t you know my boy had a heart attack? Don’t any of you fucking realize he could be dying?” But I didn’t. I wrapped my arms around my chest and tried so hard to keep it together. I had to be strong for him.
I don’t know how long I sat there before I detected the smell of menthol and two slender, bony arms wound their way around me.
“Thought I’d find you here.” Maggie sounded tired.
I clutched those arms, desperately wanting someone to ground me. She sat down slowly in the empty chair beside me.
“He’ll be okay,” she promised. “I’m sure they’re doing everything they can.” She pressed her cheek against mine, her skin so soft. “I won’t tell you not to worry, but at least with me here, we can worry together.” We sat there, her holding my hands, and me crying like a baby. I never understood until this moment how Jarod had felt when he lost Phillip. The uncertainty, the pain, the remorse over things you should have said, but always thought there would be time to say. The thought had me sobbing against Maggie’s shoulder. She crooned in my ear, singing a song that sounded like one my mum sang.
“I can’t lose him,” I croaked. “I’m not ready yet.”
I felt her smile against my cheek. “Oh, bless you, sweetheart, you’ll never be ready. When Jarod’s father died, I was devastated. He was too young. We were too much in love. Life doesn’t care what we have planned.”
I stared at her. “How can you be so calm?” I demanded, anger once again rising in my chest.
She straightened and sat very still. “When you called, I died on the inside. A mother should never outlive her child.” She looked off into the distance, her face pale. Then the moment passed, and she regarded me with affection. “But you’re my family too, and I need to be strong for you right now. Later you’ll be strong for me, okay?”
I could have kicked myself. I had only known Jarod a few months, and Maggie was comforting me. It should have been the other way around. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“For what? Dragging Jarod out of his shell? For making him insanely happy? Yes, you should be sorry,” she teased. “Eli, Phillip made Jarod come alive. You give him life. Do you understand the difference?” I shook my head, and she smiled. “Phillip saw something in Jarod. It called to him, and he reacted to it. He nurtured it and gave it the attention it needed. When he died, I thought a part of Jarod did too. Then he met you. The bit of him that was Phillip’s showed itself again, just a little. Then you took him under your wing and encouraged him. You helped him make friends again, to find a purpose. Phillip was his whole life, and when he was gone, Jarod didn’t know what to do. You showed him life again, where he was able to see beyond a person. You took the part of him and added to it, making him whole once more. No one could be prouder of that than me.”
Tears blurred my vision. I pulled her in for a hug, and we sat there, clinging to one another, doing our best to give strength to the other.
“Mrs. Pearce?”
She glanced up, her eyes red. “Yes?”
A doctor in a white coat stood in front of her. “I’m Dr. Marlowe. Can I talk to you?” He eyed me before he added, “In private.”
She glared at him. “This is my son’s boyfriend. Whatever you have to say, you’ll say it to him too.”
He blinked several times but then sat on the chair next to her. “Your son has had a minor myocardial infarction. There was restricted blood flow to his heart.” She gasped and clutched my hand, her thin fingers wound tightly around mine. “Jarod will be okay,” he hurried to assure us. “We’ve started him on thrombolytic medication to dissolve a clot. We’ll be keeping an eye on his condition, but we think we can treat him with medication. When he’s in a stable condition, we’ll move him to Cardiology.” He rose to his feet and addressed Maggie. “He’s asleep right now, but you can see him if you like.”
Maggie stared at him as if he’d grown two heads. “Of course we want to see him.” I helped her to her feet, and we followed Dr. Marlowe along a corridor and into a side ward. There were only two beds in it, and only one was occupied. That first sight of Jarod, surrounded by monitors bleeping away, a drip, and all those wires, was enough to send my heart plummeting. I heard the hitch in Maggie’s breathing, and her fingers gripped mine.
“I don’t know about you,” she said, her voice quavering, “but I need some coffee. Sit down in that chair and stay with him while I go in search of whatever swill passes for caffeine in this place.” She grimaced. “I don’t rate my chances.”
“Let me go,” I suggested.
Maggie shook her head. “I need the exercise. At least, that’s what my GP tells me every time he looks over these old bones. Besides, if Jarod wakes up, I’m sure he’d rather see your face than mine.” She winked and then walked slowly out of the room, her shiny black handbag over her arm.
I sat down in the chair and leaned against the wide back, my gaze fixed on Jarod. He didn’t seem at peace: his forehead was furrowed and slight whimpers escaped his lips now and again. I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the bleeps of the monitors, the steady drip drip drip of the IV line, until I realized that those things were there to make him better. My panic must have worn me out, because the next thing I knew, Maggie was nudging me awake, a polystyrene cup of coffee in her hand.
“Looks like you need this, son.”
I took it gratefully and sipped the brew. I pulled a face. “I see you were spot-on with your predictions about the coffee.”
Maggie gave a tired smile. “You get to my age, you spend a lot of time in hospitals for one reason or another. Some things just don’t change.” She walked over to the bed and gazed down at her sleeping son. “The nurse out there said he might sleep a lot at first. You okay to stay a while? Because
I’m not going anywhere.” She smiled, only this time it was brighter. “That nice young male nurse said he’d find me a bed, bless him.” She winked. “Although he only grinned when I asked him if he’d share it with me for a while.”
It was then that I discovered that snorting hot coffee out of your nose was bloody painful.
THE NEXT day dragged on. Jarod had responded well to the medication and had been moved to a private room in the Cardiology ward. There was already talk of discharging him within a couple of days; the doctors were pleased with his progress.
I wished I felt the same way. Jarod was awake but not talking. I’d stood at the foot of his bed, wondering what the hell was going on. He’d lain there, staring at the ceiling, not once meeting my gaze. When I’d begun to panic, Maggie had pulled me into a meeting with the doctor, who explained to us that what was going on was quite common.
“After a heart attack, it’s common for patients to experience negative feelings: fear, depression, denial, anxiety. Jarod will run through them all at one point or another. I strongly urge you to get him to see a counselor who specializes in aftercare of a heart attack. I can give you some suggestions.”
“So I assume this is something Eli can’t just spank out of him?” Maggie asked, trying to appear innocent. I was so glad not to be drinking coffee at the time.
If the doctor was shocked, he didn’t show it, although I did see the faintest twitch of his lips. “No, I’m afraid not. He will need someone who won’t let him feel sorry for himself, though.” His gaze met mine. “If that’s the type of relationship you have, then you need to keep at it. Make sure he takes his medications, keeps his appointments, and don’t let him wallow. There’s nothing worse than feeling sorry for himself.”
After the doctor had left, Maggie turned to me. “You know he’s already doing that, right? Feeling sorry for himself? That’s why he’s not talking to us. I know my son. He’s got all kinds of stuff going on in his head, and even if he’s willing to kneel before a man, he won’t let go of his feelings of inadequacy so easily.”
So Jarod was being stubborn. Tell me something I don’t know.
Jarod
THE CEILING had a spiderweb crack in it. I’d lost count of how many times I counted its strands, anything to occupy my mind to keep me from imagining the conversation I was going to have with Eli. Because lying there, I’d done nothing but think.
Mother had come and gone at various times. I was always aware of her presence, even though I didn’t acknowledge it. Keeping silent was easier than trying to share what was going on inside my head. Not talking to Eli was harder, though. I told myself it would be best in the long run, that it would hurt him less once he understood.
I think part of me always knew I was talking absolute rubbish. But I had to face facts. This whole episode had been a timely reminder that I would die before Eli, as Phillip had died before me. I had no business getting involved with a man two decades my junior. It had been my desire to be needed again. I should have simply stayed at Phillip’s house and remained the caretaker. No one would have hurt me there, and I wouldn’t have a broken heart either.
“So this is it? You’re not going to speak to your own mother?”
Her voice cut through my thoughts, and I turned my attention to her. “I’m sorry,” I rasped.
Her wrinkled face lit up at my first words in two days, and then I watched her brow furrow even more.
“Can I guess what you’re feeling? Sad? Confused? Alone? You’re not, you know. Your Master is in the waiting room. He hasn’t left since they brought you in. Why won’t you speak to him?”
I couldn’t look at her; the shame was too deep. I stared out the window instead. “I realize now that we’re wrong for each other.” The words were hard to get out. It was as if they refused to leave, clinging to the inside of my mouth.
“Wrong for each other?” she snapped. “That’s the biggest bunch of crap I’ve ever heard. That young man cares deeply for you, and you won’t even see him.” Those blue eyes bore into me.
I sighed. “Fine. I’ll see him.” Not that I hadn’t planned to, but other things would have to take place first.
From the corner of my eye, I could see she remained unconvinced. “What are you planning?”
Damn it, she knew me too well. “I want him to go home. To go out and find someone who’ll suit him better. I can’t be what he needs anymore.”
She stood up and huffed at me. “If you weren’t already laid up, I would make sure you would be. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, because no one else does. You had a heart attack. A mild heart attack. You’re going to be fine. The doctor said with medication and exercise, you’ll probably outlive him, and he was only forty. I can’t stop you from being an ass, but I sure as hell don’t have to watch it.” She turned to leave me.
“Mother.”
She halted, slowly turning back toward me.
“Take Eli for a coffee, please? There’s something I need to do. Then I promise, I’ll talk to him.”
She tilted her head, eyes narrowed. Finally she nodded and left the ward.
I got out my phone from the small cupboard beside the bed and called my lawyer, outlining what I wanted. He sounded surprised, and tried to talk me into taking more time to think, but I’d already spent enough time going over and over the details in my head. He assured me he would have a courier to me within a few hours to sign the paperwork, but once again he asked me to reconsider.
I knew what I was doing.
When I heard voices in the corridor outside the ward, I closed my eyes and feigned sleep. I didn’t want to talk, not yet, not until I had everything as I wanted it. I heard Mother mutter to Eli, then her slow footsteps as she left the ward. I could smell Eli’s scent as he neared the bed, could hear his breathing. I held myself still until he moved away to the chair. I listened to his breathing, the sound almost hypnotic as it pulled me into sleep once more.
When I awoke, Eli was napping in the chair. It was then that I realized what had awoken me. A courier was standing at the door. I placed a finger to my lips and indicated Eli with a flick of my head. He nodded and quietly made his way to the bed.
He handed me the paperwork and waited until I had signed it before he gave me copies and took the originals with him. Now that my affairs were in order, I could finally rest.
Eli
MY GAZE fell on Jarod as soon as my eyes opened. The last few days had been wave upon wave of stress. That cry over the phone had been a heart-stopper, and his ensuing silence was driving me frantic. I’d sat in his room, all the things I had been waiting for the perfect time to say mocking me, reminding me there’s never a perfect time, and if you try to wait, it can be taken away from you. I wasn’t sure if I could take more of this.
“Hello, Sir.” Jarod’s croak broke through my reflections, and I stared at him. He blinked and then focused on me.
I got up from my chair and walked over to the bed, forcing down my elation that he was finally talking. “Good morning, pet. I trust you slept well.” My own voice was raspy as I struggled to contain my emotions.
“Could have been more comfortable,” he answered. “This bed is lumpier than yours.”
Yours? The way he phrased his answer, and the fact that he averted his gaze had me on alert. “What’s going on, pet?”
He reached over to the bedside cabinet for a folder and handed it to me. I opened it, my hands shaking, and read what was written there. As the words sank in, my anger bubbled to the surface. If I hadn’t been in a hospital, I would have exploded.
“What is this?” I demanded through gritted teeth.
He sat up and helped himself to a drink of water before speaking. “If something happens, I need to make sure you’re taken care of. I talked to my lawyer. He’s got a fund set up so Mother will be able to live in comfort. I also set up something for the boys at the club. Each of them will be taken care of if they want to go to school, or if they want to do something else in the future. Th
e bulk of it goes to you.”
I slammed the folder on the cabinet and got close to him. I was shaking. “You’re lucky you’re in a hospital bed right now, pet. I want to pull you into my lap and spank your arse until you’re crying.” I stabbed at the folder with my finger. “This? This is total crap. I told you, I don’t want your money. Take care of your mum, take care of your friends, but you do not take care of me.”
Tears leaked down his face. “Shut up.” His voice quivered. “I don’t care what you do with the money. Save it. Spend it. Donate it. But it’s yours. Please. Let me have this peace of mind.”
Nausea rolled through me. “You’re being foolish, pet. You’re going to be fine. The doctor said it was a mild heart attack. You’ll be home in a couple of days. Then we can talk, okay?” I was praying furiously that he’d see sense.
He shook his head. “I’m not coming back to your house.”
And with those words, everything I’d planned to say shattered like cheap glass. “What? Why the hell not?”
Sucking in a deep breath, he started blurting out the things I knew he’d been thinking. He laid it all out, his reasons for wanting me to go on without him. Proof that we weren’t right for each other. And that I needed someone to take care of me, and it couldn’t be him. I sat down, patiently listening to everything he had to say, even though I wanted to stop him. To tell him I didn’t want to hear it. But he was afraid, and I understood, because I was too.
At last he fell silent.
“Are you done?” I asked. I wasn’t angry or disappointed, just… sad. I didn’t wait for a response. “Okay. Now it’s my turn to speak. Let me tell you something, and you’re only to listen. I don’t want you to interrupt. You met Scott. Did you know that Ben tried to send him away? He thought he couldn’t take care of Scott, and despite all his friends telling him otherwise, Ben figured he knew best.” I paused to take a much-needed breath. “Right now you’re acting much the same way Ben did. You’re trying to send me away, because you think it’s noble. But guess what, pet? It isn’t. You’re every bit as foolish now as he was then. You have a home, and you have someone to take care of that needs you there. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”