by Dianne Drake
“And...”
She laughed. “Do you really want to hear the words?”
“I do,” he said, smiling.
“I do, too.” She drew in a deep breath and shouted as loudly as she could, “I love you, Eric Hart.” It was improbable, maybe even impossible, but at that moment she needed to say it as much as he needed to hear it. Then, like everything else between them, they’d tuck it away and work out the details later.
“And I love you, too,” he said, a little more quietly. Then kissed her as he lowered her to the ground. “Now, go dry yourself off and get to Recovery. Someone there needs you.”
“Someone right here needs you,” she said, sliding her hand from his as she walked away. “And, yes, I know. We’ll sort that along with everything we’ll be sorting. But... I just needed to say it. Something I haven’t been good at doing.”
“And I needed to hear it.” He pointed to the door. “Now go. Before I really do pick you up and carry you.”
She did go, smiling all the way down to the dressing room to find dry scrubs, then all the way to Recovery. For the first time since that night with Eric, she felt like there was something to hold onto. She needed that in her life. She truly needed that, and Eric was the only one who made her feel that way. She hoped, after the craziness of the past several minutes, that it didn’t wash away with the rain.
* * *
It was like the weight of the world had finally caught up to him and crushed him beneath its ugly shell. He was physically tired, emotionally drained, and he had no one to turn to but Michi. Yet as he watched her walk toward the recovery room he was so proud of the strength she was exuding. She’d been through so much more than he had, and for so much longer. But she wasn’t broken. Tired. Worn down. But so strong. And it was from her strength that he was finding his own.
“Your kid’s a fighter,” Henry said, putting his arm around Eric’s shoulder.
“He gets it from his mom,” Eric commented, his eyes still focused on Michi until she disappeared into the recovery room.
“I know it’s none of my business, but what happens now?” Henry asked. “And I’m only concerned because he’s my patient.”
“You’re concerned because you’re nosy, you old buzzard,” Eric said, chuckling.
“Some of that, too.”
“Eventually, when he’s ready to travel, he’ll go home to Sapporo. He has good doctors there so I don’t think his health is a concern. And when the next surgery is up, well...maybe you again.”
“Then you’ll fly me to Japan on that fancy plane of yours?”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“Will you be living there, too, Eric?”
“Michi and I get to a certain point then we don’t go any further. As in making plans for what happens next. So, I don’t know where I’ll be. Probably either going to or coming from Japan.”
“Consider staying, Eric. Be with your family there. Maybe get back to surgery.”
Eric turned to face his mentor. “Sounds simple, doesn’t it?”
“It can be, if that’s what you want. Hell, I never thought I’d leave Texas, but look at me now. All small-town New York because the woman I love was worth the change. Anyway, I’m going to have Riku brought back to the PICU as soon as possible so you and Michi can both sit with him. But it’s probably going to be three hours, according to hospital protocol. So go rest up. You’ve got some pretty important daddying to do. Oh, and you’re welcome in Recovery, too.”
Eric shook his head. “She needs this.”
“Well, whatever suits you. See you in a while, when he’s back in PICU.”
* * *
The minutes with Riku flew by then suddenly she was alone in the hall, walking back to the waiting room to find Eric. Riku was still sleeping, and he looked so tiny and fragile against all the machines surrounding him. But his heart tracing looked good. Better than she’d ever seen it. And the blue tinging around his lips these past few weeks had pinked up nicely, as had his fingernail beds. Meaning his heart was working the way it should and his body was no longer being robbed of oxygen.
It was all good, and she couldn’t wait to find Eric, wondering if their earlier celebration could be continued, or perhaps had it been a one-off? A reaction to the moment, to the joy, to the relief? So much of this was because of him, and there weren’t enough ways in the world to give him the thanks he deserved.
But would he even want to see her now? Especially after the way she’d been so giddy in the garden, saying things she otherwise might not have said, doing things she might otherwise not have done? Well, there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there? Go find Eric and simply ask if there was another step for them to take together. Something that would lead to another step, then another...she hoped.
“Isn’t Eric here?” she asked her mother, who was sitting near the window in the waiting room.
“He stopped by for a couple of minutes, told us more detail about how the surgery had gone. We thought he’d stay with us, of course, but obviously he didn’t. I don’t think he knows where he belongs, Michi.”
Of course he didn’t. She’d never given him the opportunity. Never given him the chance to find out. Or the support he needed as badly as she did. Everyone in Riku’s life had their defined place. Everyone but Eric who, while he wore the title of father, was still unsure of where it got him. Did he think that now the surgery was over, he was no longer needed? How could he feel anything but that, when she’d been the one to do that to him?
“I, um... I’m going to take a walk,” she said. “Riku’s going to be in Recovery for a while longer and I’d really like to get out of here for a bit. They’ll text me when he’s ready to go to PICU, and I’ll be back for that.” And while the cafeteria wasn’t necessarily her destination, she headed in that direction, hoping to find Eric there. Texting him as she walked.
Where are you?
Lobby. Waiting for my driver. Going home for a while.
May I come with you?
She was not sure why she responded that way but being with Eric was the only thing that made sense. So, she waited for his rather prolonged response before she took another step in any direction.
Sure. Waiting in lobby.
She was positive that his hesitancy in responding right away was because he wasn’t sure what to do. And the lack of enthusiasm in his response probably indicated the same. But she was not going to be deterred. They’d put off everything until after Riku’s surgery, and now it was after Riku’s surgery, which meant it was time to see what they had together in all this. It might not be easy, and it might be heartbreaking, but she’d done a bad thing by Eric once before, and she wasn’t going to do that again.
“That white stretch out there is yours?” she asked, stepping up behind him.
“Technically, it belongs to the company, but since I own the company...”
She took hold of his arm. “Care to give me the grand tour? I’ve never been in a car like that before.”
Eric chuckled as he led her out the door. “Let’s see, tires, doors, seats inside. And William. When he retired from the company, he wasn’t ready to call it quits so I took him on as driver, estate handyman, gardener, whatever. He lives in the guesthouse and he’s grateful that even at his age he still has a purpose.”
“We all need a purpose, Eric,” she said, climbing into the back seat and dropping down into the buttery white leather. “But sometimes finding the right purpose is difficult. Sometimes it takes a few misfires to get it right.”
The sky was clear, the rain long gone, and the night was decidedly colder than previous nights. Which meant winter was setting in. And this winter she had plans for Riku. Nothing strenuous, nothing outside except some easy sledding on a very limited basis. Still, for the first time ever she had plans that would happen. Something to look forward to and get excited
about. Something so tangible she could almost feel it right now. Before today, all plans had been subject to change, or had disappeared altogether. But not anymore. This was the first time she felt free enough to think forward. “So, you live in the city?”
“Secluded area. Not central but nice.”
“Let me guess. Passed down from generation to generation.”
“To Riku, when it’s time.” He settled in across from her and sighed. “Oh, and for what it’s worth, white isn’t the color I would have chosen. Neither was a stretch. But...”
“It was passed down to you with everything else.”
“And Riku can have it right now if he wants it. Personally, I prefer my SUV. But sometimes a Hart has to be a Hart.”
“Why tonight?” she asked him.
“Long-range plans involved. And that includes the whole Hart legacy. It only seems proper that it all begins in the Hart stretch.”
They drove several blocks before they cut out of midtown and headed for the mansion. This was really the first time Michi had ever explored Manhattan by night, and it was beautiful. Everything she’d imagined. All the magnificent buildings with all their magnificent light. “Would you believe I’ve never been up the Empire State Building? I think I’d like to go on a clear night, so I could look out on all the lights for miles.”
“Then we’ll do that. And as Hart Properties has a helicopter, maybe you’d like a ride over the city at night as well. Best view in town, in my opinion.”
“Are you a pilot?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
“Then you could take us.”
“Or I could have the company pilot take us so we could snuggle up in the back seat.”
She smiled at the suggestion. “I like that. Bring a blanket, bring a Thermos of hot chocolate.”
He chuckled. “Except the chopper is heated, and it’s equipped with a coffeemaker, which can easily convert to hot chocolate.”
Michi laughed. “You really do know how to spoil the romantic moment, don’t you?”
“Old habits that haven’t died, I suppose.”
“Could we work through them together?” This wasn’t what she’d intended to talk about. At least not now. But she’d declared her intentions without anything back from him. So, she had to know if she was kidding herself, that maybe he was still angry and wouldn’t get over it. Or if he was ready to move on, as he’d hinted.
Unfortunately, before he had time to respond, the car had come to a stop outside a virtual castle, and the driver was already opening the door for her to exit. She stepped out, trying not to gawk too much or, at least, with her mouth hanging open, waited for Eric to come from the other side, then took hold of his arm and let him lead her into the most magnificent foyer she’d ever seen. One that belonged on the pages of an architectural journal.
“This isn’t what I pictured,” she said. Everything was in grand style from the massive pendant lights at the entry to the marble staircase inside the hall. Even the ebony grand piano in the music room off to the side of the entry, the mahogany antique Chippendale chairs sitting across from it, and the heirloom Persian rug upon which everything sat. “It’s so...”
“Ostentatious,” he supplied.
“Maybe. But beautiful. Like in a museum.”
“Or a mausoleum. My dad never let me come in here. I was restricted to my bedroom, my playroom and the kitchen. Occasionally the dining room, when he didn’t want to eat alone. Which was hardly ever.”
“Too bad, because beauty like this should be enjoyed. Not restricted. Who did the decorating?” she asked, as she brushed her fingers lightly over a sofa table behind the massive empire sofa sitting off to the side of the room.
“A couple of great-grandmothers back, so I’m told. The Hart family has always been larger than life, and their lifestyle was part of it.”
“But not your lifestyle?”
“I prefer to keep things simple.”
“Yet look at all this. I can’t even picture you rambling around through all the halls here, let alone living in them.”
He chuckled. “I don’t. Pretty much I live in the same area I always have. My bedroom, changed to fit a man rather than a boy. My playroom changed into an office. And the kitchen, where I usually stand over the sink to eat, when I eat here. Which is hardly ever, since I’m more of a grab-bag-and-go kind of a guy.”
“Fast food?”
He shook his head. “Top restaurants are more than happy to put a decent meal in a bag for me to take away.”
“Well, I’d like to say I’m getting mixed signals on your lifestyle, but I’m not.”
“Because pathetic isn’t a mixed signal,” he said.
“Well, if this was the house I had to come home to, I’d probably live the way you do. All this is good for show, but when it comes to living, I like livable. Someplace where I’m comfortable. A house where, if I break a vase, I can replace it rather than have to claim it on my insurance.” She turned back to Eric. “Are you happy here, Eric? I guess that’s what’s important, isn’t it? Being happy where you are?”
“I’ve never really thought about it. This house exists, and I exist inside it.” He sat down at the piano and opened the lid over the keyboard. Then played a perfect arpeggio with the fingers of a perfected pianist. Or a perfected surgeon.
“That’s beautiful,” she said. “What comes after it?”
“Anything you want. Maybe an old Beatles tune?” With that, he launched into one of the oldest. Then transitioned into Chopin. “A nocturne is always good, too.” Then a show tune, followed by several fragmented jazz chords, ending in part of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” from his ninth symphony. “It’s a matter of mood, I suppose.”
“And what’s your mood?” she asked, taking her place behind him then leaning over and, with one finger, playing a simple melody that sounded Japanese. And haunting. “It’s called ‘Takeda Lullaby.’ My grandmother used to sing it to me. It’s an old cradle song sung by burakumin, a group who were outcasts because of their occupations, like undertakers, butchers or tanners. They were deemed tainted by the old society because of who they were.”
“And you sing this to Riku?”
“It’s one of his favorites. Makes him smile. It talks about rising above adversity to a higher life.”
“I think my mood might be like Riku’s when he hears this. Not because of the song as much as the way you make me happy.”
She changed her tune to the old Shaker hymn “’Tis a Gift to Be Simple” and Eric chuckled.
“Simplicity hasn’t ever been anything I’ve had much to do with in my life,” he said.
“Have you ever wished for it?” she asked, as she sat down next to him and continued playing, but with both hands.
“Most of my life. Closest I ever got was when I was in university, but even then, instead of living in the dorm room the way most students did, my dad bought me an elaborate townhouse off-campus.”
“And you turned it down, of course, in search of the simpler.”
He chuckled. “No, I kept it. But I did turn down the chauffeur and maid that came with it.”
“You accept your wealth quite well,” she said, lifting her hands from the keys. They were sitting much too close together, side pressed to side. But it felt so good, so natural that she didn’t want to move. Not yet. “Have you ever considered donating your house and all its antiques to a museum and going back to your townhouse days?”
“I have, but something always stops me when I get close to going through with it.”
“What?” she asked.
“My sense of family, I suppose. My dad wasn’t that great, but there have been other Harts here who weren’t him. I remember my grandmother sitting in her room, crocheting. Actually, I remember seeing a picture of her there. She was gone long before my time, but in the
photo...she looked so happy. So contented. Getting rid of this house would be getting rid of that. Or maybe the image of another Hart in another photo I’ve yet to find. So I stay. Keep the part of it I want and leave the rest of it to its posterity. Which probably makes no sense whatsoever. But Riku’s now part of that, so the choices will one day be his to make. Or, like me, not make.”
Michi stretched her neck and sighed. “It’s hard to think that my son belongs to all this. My family is of means, but not on this scale.” She stretched her neck again, then laughed. “Too many hard chairs and strange beds lately.”
With that, Eric left the bench then took his place behind her and began to massage. “I know this is part of what you do, and I’m sure I’m not nearly as good at it, so guide me if I go wrong here.”
She let out a contented sigh. “Trust me. What you’re doing is perfect.” So perfect, she leaned her head back against him, took in another deep breath and relaxed. This was a touch she wished could be only for her. But that was merely a dream. The reality was that all too soon she would return to her reality and the ache would return, and everything inside that was relaxed now would only tense up again. But for the moment...
“A little to the right,” she said, almost on a moan. “And harder. I can take more pressure. And your thumbs...pure heaven.”
“I think that’s the first time anybody’s complimented me on my thumbs.”
“Oh, I think you have a whole lot of body parts to compliment. Remember, I saw them.” And behind her shut eyes she was seeing them again.
His massage deepened a bit. “I remember,” he said, sighing. “I do remember.”
“I think we should stop,” she said. Wishing that weren’t the case.
“Afraid we could turn this into our second night?”
If only he knew how much she wanted that. Tonight. Right now. Even on the Persian rug. But she couldn’t. If they were to happen again, and she truly hoped they would, it had to be perfect. And with everything resolved. Not now, though, as nothing was perfect, and nothing was resolved. Because if ever they were to be together again, she could not bear him leaving her yet another time. Still nothing guaranteed that he would stay. “Yes,” she said simply, even though she didn’t pull away from him as she might have at one time. Instead, she let him continue his massage as she continued her daydream. For now, anyway. Then, maybe later on...