Heart's Reward (12 page)

She sniffed. “Okay.” Mechanically she hung up the phone. For several seconds she stood there trying to process the information and then suddenly sprung into action. Her brother needed her. Now.

She wiped her face and went back out to the party. She searched for Cynthia and excused her from her guests. Quickly she told her what had happened and that she needed to leave immediately.

Cynthia squeezed her tight. She knew how close Melanie and Alan were and how much Mel adored her brother. “Don't worry about anything here. I'll take care of it.”

“Thank you.” She pressed her lips tightly together to keep from crying. “I have to tell the kids.”

“I'll go with you.”

They found Veronica, Vincent and Jessica in different parts of the house and broke the news as quickly and quietly as possible. Within moments they
had their bags and were at the door when the SUV from the State Department pulled up to the front door.

Just as Melanie was making her exit, Rafe stopped her. “What's wrong? I'd know those suits anywhere,” he said, indicating the government employees.

“Alan is in the hospital. He had a heart attack. It's serious.” She tried to keep it together, but she felt as if she was going to break into a million pieces if she didn't see her brother and know that he was going to be all right.

“Oh, no. I'm sorry. Is there anything that I can do? Anything?”

“Help Cynthia out, give my apologies to the guests…”

“Of course.” He squeezed her shoulder. “He's going to be okay. Alan is a tough guy. He'll come through this.”

“I have to believe that.” She turned and ran toward the waiting car.

H
e didn't want to tell her how bad it really was, the fact that they'd almost lost Alan, not once but twice. The last code blue was barely an hour earlier. Every time he saw a doctor rush by his pulsed raced.

He felt so helpless. He wanted to do something. And if he drank another cup of coffee he was going to leap through the ceiling. He got up from the hard plastic chair and resumed his pacing. He checked his watch. It had been almost two hours since he had made the call. He'd gotten a text message from the agent assigned to get them to the airport that they'd boarded the plane and were en route. The flight was about an hour and a half. Hopefully they should arrive around one in the morning. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

 

The call. The drive. The flight. Melanie's head was pounding. She kept replaying Claude's words in her head, the severity with which they were delivered. And they were about her brother. She couldn't lose him. Not Alan. Each and every person that she'd ever loved she'd lost. Her grandmother, her mother, her husband Steven. Not Alan. She pressed her fist to her mouth so that she wouldn't scream. She didn't even realize how tightly she'd been gripping her nephew's hand until he patted her palm.

“It's going to be okay, Aunt Mel,” he assured her.

She looked into his eyes and saw his father. Her throat clenched. She reached out and stroked his cheek. “I know, sweetheart.” She prayed that they were both right.

 

By the time they reached the hospital and were ushered up to the cardiac critical care unit Melanie was shaking all over.

Claude jumped up from his seat and came to meet them as they came down the corridor.

When they saw each other, whatever may or may not have gone on between them no longer mattered.

Claude opened his arms and she walked right into them. He held her against him and for a moment kept the world and the reason why they were there at bay.
They blocked out the sounds of machines and fears and held each other.

He stepped back and looked down into her eyes. “He's going to be all right. He's strong.”

She nodded, too afraid to speak.

Claude looked into the terrified faces of Alan's family.

“What happened?” Vincent asked.

Claude explained what he knew and brought them up to date on what the doctors told him so far. “The doctor is in there now,” Claude concluded. “He's in the room down the hall.” He put his arm protectively around Melanie's shoulder and led them down the hall, with Vincent holding the hand of his sister and cousin.

They stopped in front of a glass window. On the other side of the glass, Alan was connected to a series of machines and tubes. His chest barely rose and fell beneath the white sheet.

Veronica inhaled a sharp breath that sounded like bad brakes. “Dad,” she whimpered.

A nurse was checking the tubes and writing notes on a chart. She turned to speak to the doctor. The doctor came out and met the family in the corridor.

“Doctor Fleming, this is Mr. Harte's sister, his son and daughter and his niece.”

The doctor nodded to each of them in turn. “Why
don't we talk over here.” He walked them down the hall to a small lounge. “Please sit.”

Dr. Fleming held the chart in front of him as he spoke as if it could somehow protect him from any onslaught of emotion.

“Mr. Harte suffered a severe heart attack. Because it happened while he was driving and time was lost getting him out of the car…the EMS originally thought it was a typical accident and that he'd been knocked out when he ran into the divider…”

Melanie's stomach was swirling. Twisted images of her brother in his car flashed before her. He was on his way to the party, the party that she insisted he attend.

“…the delay in treatment caused a shortage of oxygen. He has had two more minor attacks since he's been here. Right now we're not sure if there has been damage to the brain. We won't know for sure until he wakes up.”

“Wakes up?” Jessica cried.

“He's in a coma.”

“Oh no.”

The doctor held up his hand. “It's a good thing. It's giving his brain a chance to rest and heal,” he said, trying to ease their anxiety.

“So you're saying that my brother is in a coma?” Her voice cracked in disbelief.

Claude tightened his hold on her hand.

“Yes.”

“For how long?” Vincent asked.

“Hopefully no more than one or two days.” He inhaled deeply. “I'll be back in the morning to check on him. You all are welcome to stay for a few minutes. One at a time. But then I'll have to ask that you leave. He needs all the rest he can get and you all do as well if you're going to help him recover.” He nodded goodbye and walked away.

“Why don't you go in and sit with him a while, Melanie?” Claude suggested.

“Yes, go first, Aunt Mel.”

Her throat worked but no words came out. Steeling herself she pushed through the glass door. For a moment she simply stood there, too stunned, too sad to move. The nurse waved her over.

“It's okay. Come and sit. Just be careful of the wires.” The nurse stepped away from the bed.

Melanie stepped closer and gripped the guardrail on the bed. The beeping sound of the machine drowned out the pounding pulse in her ears. He looked like he'd aged five years. Her heart ached. She could never remember her brother being sick or weak or vulnerable. When they lost their dad before they got out of junior high, Alan had become the man of the house, looking after her, their sister and their mother. They were all gone. It was just the two
of them against the world. They had to be there for Vincent, Victoria and Jess.

“We're going to get you through this, Al.” She brushed her hand across his forehead and fought back the overwhelming desire to cry. “I love you, big bro. I'll be back tomorrow.”

While Vincent, Victoria and Jessica took turns going to see Alan, Claude and Melanie stole a few minutes to talk.

“I can't thank you enough for arranging all this,” she said to Claude as they sat side by side in the lounge.

“I knew none of you would be thinking clearly and would want to get here as soon as possible. Arranging things and people is what I do all day,” he said with a soft smile.

Melanie looked into his eyes and for a moment felt safe and protected.

“It's going to be okay,” he said softly. “You keep believing that.”

She nodded.

“I know you didn't have time to think about where you were going to stay. My house in Dupont Circle is big, three floors, five bedrooms, plenty of space and you all are welcome to stay as long as you need to.”

“Claude, no, we couldn't impose on you like that. An entire family descending on you…” She shook
her head. “We'll stay at a hotel. There probably isn't a hotel in D.C. that I haven't stayed in at some point.”

“You can try but there are two conventions going on. Hotels in the area are full. At least stay at my house for the night and you can try in the morning. Get some rest. It's late.”

She was exhausted and she didn't have the energy to haggle with hotel clerks. “Okay, but just for tonight. Thank you.”

“Don't worry about it. Come on.”

 

Everyone was too drained and still in shock to put up too much of a fuss and before long they were settled in their rooms for the night.

But for Melanie, sleep wouldn't come. Her mind wouldn't slow down. She tiptoed out of bed with the intention of fixing some tea. She was glad her room was on the ground floor. She wouldn't have to worry about creeping down the stairs and possibly waking anyone up.

She eased her door open and walked down the hall to the kitchen. After a bit of looking around she found a box of tea and put some water on to boil. She sat at the table to wait. She rested her face in her hands and said a prayer for her brother, for her family.

“I thought I heard someone.”

Her head jerked up. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't. I couldn't sleep.”

“Tea?”

“Sure.” He pulled up a chair. “How are you holding up?”

“I don't even know, to tell you the truth.” She smiled sadly.

He covered her hand with his. “We never talked…me and you.”

The teapot whistled. She got up and went to the stove. “I know,” she said with her back to him.

He came to stand beside her. He opened the cabinet above the sink and took out two mugs and set them on the counter. She took two teabags out of the box and put one in each mug. He poured the hot water.

“Honey or sugar?”

“Honey.”

He took the honey from the cabinet and brought it to the table.

For several moments they sat in silence, sipping tea, thinking, needing to say things but unsure of how to begin or even if the time was right.

Melanie couldn't hold it in any longer. “There's…I've wanted to talk to you. Tell you…”

“Tell me what?” His eyes searched her face.

Then suddenly the words that had lived inside her for weeks she couldn't find. She couldn't say them.

“Then I'll tell you.” He paused a moment. “From the moment I met you, you've been all I can think about, even when I don't want to. When we made love
that night, it was more than some one night stand. I didn't want it to be. I wanted to tell you that, but you were gone. And when I did see you, you acted as if nothing happened.” He shook his head as the vision of her and Rafe ran through his head. “I started thinking all kinds of things.” He told her what really happened on his date with Grace, all about Traci and the loss of Regina. He was confessing his soul, making room for something, something better.

Melanie listened, at moments tickled, heartbroken, elated taking the emotional journey with him. When he finished he looked into her eyes. “No one would be right for me. No one except you. And that reality is so crazy sometimes that it doesn't make sense.”

“Who can make sense of why they feel the way they do in a situation that defies explanation? I should have come to you. But I didn't. I went against everything that our business stood for. I crossed the line. I let my emotions lead me.” She wrapped her hands around the mug. “So I had to stay away from you. And I thought it was the way you wanted it.”

“It was never what I wanted. Never. I know this is not the time to hash out our issues, but I don't want the talking to stop here. The next few days and weeks are going to be hard on you and your family, on all of us. But I want you to be clear that no matter what, I'll be there for you, day or night.”

A single tear fell from her eye and she quickly
wiped it away. Her throat was so tight and achy that her one word, “thanks,” came out cracked and broken.

“Finish your tea. You need your rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

 

The next three days were like living through a nightmare. The family took turns visiting with Alan, talking to him, praying for him. The doctors said that his vital signs were good. He was off the respirator and breathing on his own. All good signs, except that he had not awakened and the longer he stayed in the coma, the more concerned Dr. Fleming became.

Melanie was at his bedside, stroking his hand. The kids had gone to get something to eat and Claude was in a meeting. She talked to Alan about all the funny things she remembered during their childhood, the pranks he used to pull on his teachers and the time he taught her to swim. She told him how much she loved and needed him and she told him about her and Claude from the very beginning.

She slipped her hand into his cool one. “So you have to wake up, Al. I can't think about my own life while yours is connected to tubes and machines. I want you to see that I can be happy again, really happy, just the way you wanted me to be. And I want your blessing.” She sniffed back her tears. She leaned over the rail and kissed his cheek. His long, strong fingers gently moved and squeezed hers.

For an instant she froze. She looked down at their joined hands. His fingers moved again.

“Al, Al, sweetie can you hear me? It's Mel.” She tightened her grasp. “Al.”

His eyelids fluttered. A soft groan passed across his lips.

Melanie reached for the buzzer and frantically pressed it to call for the nurse. Seconds later, the nurse was at the bedside.

“He's waking up. He grabbed my hand. He's waking up.”

“Let me check him.” She listened to his heart and shone a light in his eyes. She looked across at Melanie and smiled. “He's coming around.”

Alan groaned again. His eyes opened then closed. He tried to move but the exertion seemed too much.

“Just relax, Mr. Harte,” the nurse said, placing a gentle hand on his chest. She pressed the intercom above his bed. “Paging Dr. Fleming. Paging Dr. Fleming. Room 817.”

Shortly, Dr. Fleming rushed into the room. He did an overall assessment, checked the monitors and IV lines. He gave the nurse some instructions on the change in medication and noted it in the chart. Then he focused on Melanie, who was trapped between elation and fear. Joy that her brother was coming around and dread about what that would mean for him when he did.

He walked Melanie away from the bed. “It looks like he's waking. It may take a little while longer. It really doesn't happen the way it does on television.” He smiled benignly. “It could be any minute, a few hours or another day. He's trying to wake from a very, very deep sleep and that process happens in degrees. What you saw are the first signs. His pupils respond to light, which is a good indicator. In the meantime we will have to wait and see.”

“Thank you, doctor,” she managed to say.

“I know this is difficult, but try to be patient. Keep talking to him.”

Melanie nodded and the doctor walked out. She turned back toward her brother.

“I'm going to bathe him now. If you could step out for a few minutes.”