***
When Jason returned to Meghan’s room, the lights were dimmed and she was still asleep. He stood at the window, looking out across the parking lot to the park where Darla had told her story. What courage it must’ve taken to share the scandalous details. Her voice had shaken, her hands quivered, but she soldiered on, telling the horrific story that had forever changed her life. She’d gone on to have a successful career, but what about her personal life? Still single at thirty-three and obviously afraid, but for a brief moment, she’d given in to her needs and seemed to forget the past. As soon as he expressed his desire for more, she curled back into her shell.
He got that. Every relationship he’d had since Jenny left had ended as soon as things got serious. Either he wasn’t ready, or she wasn’t the one, or the trust wasn’t there—he had been the one to end it. Something held him back each time. But Darla was different and he didn’t know why. He was falling hard and fast, even though they had only met a week ago. In fact, a week ago, he was dead set against her meeting Meghan, and now she was becoming a part of their little family. For the first time in eighteen years, he was ready to let someone in.
“Dad?”
Jason spun around, finding Meghan struggling to sit up. “Hey, easy now. Let me help you.” He pressed the button, raising the back of her bed.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
“You looked so worried. What did the doctor say?”
“I still haven’t been told the results of your tests.”
“I want to go home.”
“Your wish is my command,” her cardiologist said, breezing into the room at just the right moment. “I’ve got the results of your tests, and I’m here to spring you.”
Meghan’s smile lit up the room. It was hard for such an active kid to lie around for days on end.
“Can I go back to school Monday? What about softball?”
“Well, here’s the thing.” The doctor pulled up a chair beside her bed and rested an ankle across his knee. “Most of the tests were negative. We think what we’re dealing with here is something called dysautonomia, even though you don’t have the classic symptoms. Basically, your autonomic nervous system is out of whack.”
Out of whack? Was that a medical term? Jason pulled up a chair, feeling slightly light-headed from relief that Meghan’s condition wasn’t serious, but confused as the doctor tried to explain it. He handed Jason some pamphlets and the name of a specialist at the Cleveland Clinic.
“I’ve scheduled a consult with Dr. Ansari for next Thursday. He’s an expert in the field and can better design a treatment plan. In the meantime, I’m prescribing some medicine to regulate your blood pressure. You need to drink plenty of fluids and take it easy.”
“So no softball?” A typical teenager, Meghan wasn’t the least bit concerned about the consult next week. She was more worried about missing a softball game. That was good—let him carry the burden of worry while she continued to enjoy her last few weeks of high school.
“Sorry, kid. No softball. And I’d also recommend you stay home this week, do your schoolwork from the comfort of your couch. I wouldn’t want you to risk passing out in the middle of the school hallway. You might get trampled.” The doctor chuckled, squeezed her arm reassuringly, and strolled out the door.
“I’ll be right back, Meg.” Jason followed him into the hallway. “Doctor, how serious is her condition?”
“If it is dysautonomia, most people go on to lead productive lives while managing their condition.”
“So this is something she’ll have the rest of her life.”
“It can be. Dr. Ansari is better equipped to deal with her condition.” The doctor smiled like a game show host, patted Jason on the shoulder, and walked away, whistling a joyful tune. Talk about passing the buck. He got the impression this doctor wasn’t willing or able to handle the tough cases. It was just as well. He hadn’t felt much confidence in him to begin with.
Ellen—a medical professional he did have confidence in—walked up the hall carrying a file and a warm smile. “Good news. Meghan’s going home.”
“The doctor told us.”
“Let’s go in the room. I’ll get her ready to go while you sign some papers.”
Jason slowly walked back into the room, just as worried as he’d been when she first had symptoms. Essentially, he knew nothing more than he did before. What if it was something more serious than a simple blood pressure problem? What if it was something that required surgery or long-term care? He had insurance, but it didn’t cover everything. His budget was stretched as it was, living on an associate professor’s salary. He had to make tenure. He needed the boost in salary and job security.
Looking at Meghan, chatting and laughing at something Ellen said, his financial worries washed away. He couldn’t let money stop him from finding a cure for his daughter. She had to stay happy and healthy. He’d stop at nothing to make sure she got the best care possible.
THIRTEEN
“It’s time you faced the beast.” Clara’s hazy eyes glazed over as she stared across the rain-soaked yard. Darla had returned home late last night and couldn’t wait to talk to the old seer about the two birds that had hit the windows. Each had resulted in a death. She should’ve warned Darla of this.
They sat on Clara’s small porch in faded, blue, plastic chairs, sipping some of her herbal iced tea. A light mist rose from the damp grass as the sun peeked through the hillside forest.
“What beast? I want to talk about the birds.” Darla set her glass on the porch floor and rested her arms on her knees. “Aunt Clara, since I was here last, two birds have hit windows. Each time, someone died. You told me when a bird hits a window, I should open my heart. Which is it? Were the birds omens of death or love? I’m confused.”
“Well now, dear…” Clara wiggled deep into her chair with a toothless chuckle. “A bird hitting a window is a completely different message.”
“Yes, it’s a message of death. My cat died the first time, and a man died at the hospital the second time. Where’s the love in that?”
“You’ve got a point there.” She gripped her chin in her hand and looked off in the distance. “Hmm.” The old lady hummed softly, rocking back and forth as if the plastic chair was a rocker. “If I recall, I didn’t tell you the bird would hit a window.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I said when a bird taps your window.” She turned her cataract gaze on Darla and gripped her hand. “That’s an entirely different message.”
This was a waste of time. Aunt Clara was talking in circles, using symbols that made no sense. But her herbal medicine was amazing—she was sleeping better than ever. Right now, Darla’s sinuses were stuffed from allergies, and she needed the relief of Clara’s concoction. “You’ve seen the hummingbird,” Clara said, returning to her psychic haze.
“The first one was a blue jay, and the second one was just an old, black bird.”
“But you’ve met the hummingbird. She’s sick, very sick.”
A cold shiver coursed through Darla’s body despite the warm, humid morning. Meghan was the hummingbird?
“Her heart is ailing, but full of love.”
“You mean Meghan?”
“She’s finally content. Her nest is complete. But she’s sick, very sick.”
“Aunt Clara, please…” Darla reached out and took her wrinkled hand in hers. “Tell me what you mean. Stop talking in symbols. How sick is Meghan?”
“Before she finds a cure, she must take down the beast.”
“Explain what you mean.”
Clara turned her cloudy gaze on Darla, her voice deep and raspy. “She needs the truth so she can take down the beast. Then, and only then, will she be at rest.” Agitated, she scooted to the edge of her chair and gripped Darla’s knee with her free hand. “And when that day comes, a bird will tap your window, bringing you the love you deserve.”
The old lady had lost her mind. Her eyes
bulged wildly with that eerie glow and her cheeks had flushed. None of this made sense. Darla jumped to her feet, brushing Clara’s hand from her leg.
“Aunt Clara, I’m sorry, but you just sound crazy.” She walked to the edge of the porch as Clara laughed behind her. “You’re talking in circles about beasts and birds, and none of it makes sense. Why can’t you just tell me what you mean?”
Clara swiped the tears from her cheeks as her laughter settled. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, dear.” She patted the chair beside her, inviting Darla to sit. “Occupational hazard, I guess. Your grandmother—my sister—and several other generations back had the gift, and they were called crazy, too. Come sit. I’ll try to explain.”
Darla’s heart was beating wildly, unsure she was ready to hear the translation. She wasn’t stupid. She now knew the hummingbird was Meghan, and she assumed the beast was Clyde Fletcher. Why did Meghan have to know about him to be cured?
Returning to the plastic chair, Clara leaned forward, clutching Darla’s hands in her own and holding them against her soft, calico dress. “Listen to me, Darla. You’ve held a dark secret in your soul for too long. It’s eaten away at you for years. Telling the silver fox was the first step.”
Darla snatched her hands away, knocking the chair over as she jumped up. “Silver fox? Where did you hear that?” My God, Aunt Clara really did have the gift. Darla hadn’t told her about Jason or that Liza had labeled him the silver fox. She was sure Liza hadn’t been out to visit Clara. She stared at the top of the old lady’s gray, wiry head, pressing her hand against her thumping heart.
“It was good you shared the secret with him, but it’s the hummingbird who needs to know. Together, you will face the beast and cure her heart—and yours.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my heart.”
“Oh, but there is.” Clara stood, pointing an arthritic finger at Darla. “Your heart has been sickest of all. Black with hatred, closed to love. But there’s a reason for that.”
“What reason?” Did she really want to hear this? She should just jump in her car and take off. Instead, she clutched the porch railing, fighting to stay on her feet.
“Only one person could open the gates, and it had to be the right time.” Clara wagged her crooked finger like an old school marm. “The time is now. Don’t let this chance get away from you.”
Darla turned her back on Clara and held fast to the porch railing as she looked toward the mountain. Strangely, the old seer was starting to make sense. It was true—Darla had held so much hatred and fear inside, she wouldn’t allow anyone in. She’d buried herself in her work and steered clear of any romantic involvement. But since telling Jason about her past, and his kisses had awakened a part of her she’d thought was frozen forever, she felt free and hopeful. Was Clara telling her to expose Clyde Fletcher so she could finally find happiness?
“If I confront the beast, as you say, I’ll find love?” She turned to find Clara standing behind her, gazing off in the distance.
“No. But you should take on the beast—you and the hummingbird.” She laid her wrinkled hand on Darla’s shoulder. “You’ll find love when the bird taps your window.”
Stomping her foot in frustration, Darla grabbed her purse and glared at Clara. “Forget it. This makes no sense.” She ran down the steps to her car, spinning its wheels in the mud. She slammed the gas pedal and floored it out of the yard. “Aunt Clara has gone off the rails.” She shouted at the windshield as her car bumped over the creek bridge. “Birds tapping windows, fighting the beast—she’s insane. And I’m nuts for listening to her.” Pressing her gas pedal to the floor, gravel flew as she charged up the hill out of the holler. No more listening to crazy old women. From now on, she’d do what she had always done—rely on her own smarts and intuition. She didn’t need psychic, fortune-telling babble to guide her. She was Darla Heartwood, the agent with heart and a big bank account, and from now on, she’d make her own destiny.
***
“I’m going to go lie down.” Meghan smacked a sticky, peanut butter-and-jelly kiss on Jason’s cheek. “Thanks for lunch.”
“My pleasure.” She’d been doing that since she was three years old. After eating her first salty-sweet sandwich, she had grabbed hold of his face and given him a kiss, leaving behind a brown-and-purple mess on his cheek. It was their thing—one of many habits and inside jokes they’d developed over the years. His eyes burned. What if her condition was more serious? What if the doctors at Cleveland Clinic discovered her illness was life-threatening, incurable? He couldn’t handle it alone.
“I’m going to watch a movie.” Jason turned his head as Meghan popped inside the kitchen doorway. “Dad,” she scolded. “You’ve got that look again.”
He sniffled and faced her with a smile. “What look?”
“That look like you’re about to cry. You never cry. I’m going to be fine.”
“I cry. I’m a big baby, remember?” He crossed the room and tapped his finger under her chin.
“Only on sappy commercials and puppy videos.” She slugged him in the arm and perched her hands on her hips. “Toughen up, man. I’m going to be fine. Do I look worried?”
“No. You look beautiful.” He glanced down at her baggy sweatpants and holey Cavaliers’ jersey. “Your outfit isn’t much, but—”
“I’m sick, remember. I can dress anyway I want.” She threw her arms around his shoulder and dragged him toward the living room. “Come on, we’ll watch a superhero movie. Try not to cry when he saves the city.”
“I’ll do my best.”
An hour later, Meghan was sound asleep on the sofa. Her dark hair was scattered across the pillow, and her hands were tucked beneath her chin. She looked like a little girl curled in peaceful slumber. His heart swelled at the sight of her. She was the most precious thing in his life. He couldn’t lose her.
Leaving Batman to fight the villain, Jason covered his daughter with a cotton throw and went upstairs to his office. He settled at his desk with a heavy sigh. The medical bills were mounting. It was amazing how quickly a few tests and time in the hospital could wipe out a savings account. Next week, she’d go through another battery of tests. How much would that cost? His insurance only covered a portion, and he was expected to pay the rest on his meager salary. When he’d started his PhD, he imagined working at a big university, doing research, writing books, and giving lectures using his expertise. Jenny’s leaving had changed the trajectory of his career, and it was more important to have the flexibility to raise Meghan. He had no regrets on that decision, but he sure could use the bigger salary right now.
His cell phone rang, startling him out of his worries. It was Darla—a very welcome distraction.
“Hi.” Her voice, a balm like homemade soup, warmed his soul. “How’s Meghan today?”
“She’s okay. Resting on the sofa downstairs.”
“How about you? You okay?”
“I’m fine. What time did you get back to Highland Springs?”
“Late last night.”
Jason leaned back in the chair and propped his ankles on the edge of his desk. It was so good to hear her voice. His last thought before falling asleep last night was her soft, luscious lips against his. It was strange how quickly his attraction to her had grown. He’d dated plenty of women over the years, but none of them had wormed their way into his heart the way Darla had. There was just something about her—a little quirky, a bit funny, but damn pretty and very smart. She struggled with her past, but that just made her more interesting.
It dawned on him the call had gone silent; neither of them had spoken.
“You still there?” he asked.
“What do you know about fortune telling, mediums, psychics, and such?”
He chuckled at the sudden turn in topic. “I know they’re usually fakes, just trying to take your money. Why?”
“So you don’t think it’s possible for someone to have the gift of seeing the future or reading your mind?”
&n
bsp; “Darla, I’m a mathematician. I’m not a big believer in that stuff. Did you go see one?”
“Well, it’s just…” Her voice faded off, and he could imagine her head tilted to one side as thoughts ran through her head. He’d noticed her doing that several times—a gesture Meghan also did when she was thinking about something. “Remember Clara, the lady who I get herbs from?”
“I remember.”
“Well, she’s my great-aunt. I go to her for my allergies. I think I told you she’s also a seer, a medium. She knows things. I mean…” Darla took a deep breath, her words coming fast and furious. “She told me about the bird and the beast. Said the hummingbird and I need to confront him. Meghan will be cured when we do. She even mentioned you. She said I was smart to tell the silver fox about my past, that my heart was black and closed off. Everything she said was true, and even though I think she might be a little crazy, I think she’s right. I have to confront the beast. It’s the only way.”
“The only way to what?”
“To open up, let everything go, and find—” She stopped suddenly, and her breaths came loud and quick through the phone.
“Find what?” Jason chuckled at her breathless energy. She wasn’t making any sense, but he could listen to her all day.
“Never mind.” She huffed out a sigh. “All I’m saying is, I’m going to take her advice.”
“Which was?”
“I’m going to tell Meghan everything, every gory detail. After that, if I have the nerve, I’m going to go see Clyde Fletcher. It’s time I stood up to the beast.”
“Ah, the beast, okay, I get it.” Weirdly, this story was starting to make sense.
“I’m not sure I’m ready, but it has to be done.”
“I guess I’m the silver fox?”
“Yes. It’s what Liza labeled you the night of my birthday party.”
“Okay, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“But I didn’t tell Aunt Clara. She just knew.”
Whatever It Takes: A Highland Springs Romance (Whatever Series Book 4) Page 11