Linda Castle (18 page)

“The best, I want the best,” Brooks insisted.

“This is not like hiring a mason or a carpenter. Opinions about physicians and their modes of treatment vary a great deal. Sometimes the doctor in vogue may not be the one with the most efficacious procedures.”

“I trust you, Doc. Who do you personally consider the best in treating spinal injuries?” Brooks leaned forward and peered into Doc’s eyes, as if he could will him to make the right choice.

“If it was my daughter in that room, I’d want Sonia Levy.”

“A woman physician?” Brooks leaned back.

“Is that a problem?” Doc tilted his head and regarded Brooks seriously.

“No, not at all. In fact—” Brooks chewed the inside of his mouth and thought about Marisa’s strong will “—in this case it could be a blessing.” He stared at Doc Malone. “Can you reach her tonight?”

“I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, why don’t you stretch out here and try to get some rest? I will leave instructions for you to be alerted if there is any change.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Fine, then just lie down and close your eyes for a bit.” Doc stood up and waited for Brooks to comply.

After a moment Brooks sighed heavily. He leaned
against the wall. Doc watched the young man’s face slowly relax. Within minutes he was breathing deeply.

Marisa opened her eyes, but felt like she was sloughing through thick sand. Her vision was blurring and she felt weak as a kitten.

“Here, have a sip of this,” a disembodied voice said.

Strong hands helped her raise her head, and she felt cool, clear water touch her lips. It felt good, but swallowing was hard. She felt hot, dried out, as if she had been in the desert too long without water.

Marisa slumped back on something soft. She closed her eyes, while a headache thudded and pounded through her brain.

As if from a great distance she could hear people whispering and the sounds of things being moved, bedding being shifted. She could hear it all, but it was strangely disjointed and removed, as if it were happening to somebody else and not her.

Another spat of hushed voices and then she was alone.

Marisa tried to clear her head, but it seemed to get more fuzzy.

They have given me something.

The sound of a door closing roused Marisa from her laudanum-induced slumber. She fought to open her eyes, to focus, to participate in living. She had disjointed images of visitors; Brooks, Ellen, Patricia and other faces she did not know. Time had no meaning. Each time she woke, she never knew if hours or days had elapsed. Slowly, she began to stay awake longer, and she knew she was going to live.

A wavy form began to take shape beside the bed. As her vision cleared, she could see the person was female, slender and blond. A flash of deep green above and below
told her the woman was wearing a hat that matched her suit.

“Ellen?” Marisa croaked.

A long pause made the pain in her head worse. She closed her eyes and stopped trying to focus.

“No, it is not Ellen. It is Violet Ashland.”

The siren’s voice brought Marisa’s eyes open with a start. This time she willed herself to disregard the pain and focus on the face.

“What are you doing here?” Marisa demanded in a voice that was stronger than she really felt.

“I wanted to see for myself. So it
is
true—you had an injury.” Violet smiled. “The news is all over town.”

She’s happy I’m hurt.

“I didn’t believe the rumors at first—Brooks’s family would tell me nothing—but the domestic help does talk, you know.” She moved closer, and for the first time Marisa realized she was swathed in a white sheet and lying on a hospital bed. The knowledge made her feel doubly vulnerable.

“Just go away,” she ordered.

Violet backed up an inch, but then stopped. “No. I have a few things to say to you. And I have been waiting until I was sure Brooks was gone so we would not be interrupted.” She smiled again, and the expression was full of hate.

“Spit it out and then just
leave.”

Violet’s smile slipped a bit. “All right. I have been waiting days to see you. Actually, it was very lucky I picked today because I went to the chapel for a few minutes and when I came out your doctor—your
new
doctor—was discussing your case with Dr. Malone.”

Marisa frowned. None of the names meant anything to her. She wondered how long she had been in the hospital.

“Will you just get on with it?” She was impatient to get up and find Brooks.

“You took a bad fall, but evidently the horse you were riding stepped on you.” Violet frowned. “You don’t remember any of this, do you?”

Marisa clamped her lips together. What she did or did not remember was her business.

“Suit yourself, Miss O’Bannion. Anyway, it seems you were hurt by the horse’s shod hooves.”

An image of lying in the grass with the gray mare over her flitted through her mind, but it brought pain with it, so Marisa let it go.

“The doctors are very sad. And it is a great pity.” Violet looked sympathetic. “You will never walk again, Miss O’Bannion.”

A
part of Marisa didn’t believe Violet, but in her heart she knew it was true. She willed her feet to move, so she could swing herself from the bed, but they did not respond. Hot stinging tears began to form at the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away.

I will not cry, not in front of her.

“So I decided to have a little chat with you,” Violet continued. She walked close to the bed. “Lovely ring.”

“My engagement ring.”

Violet’s blue eyes turned to ice. “It is time for me to be blunt, Miss O’Bannion. Brooks James has the respectability that I want. My earlier—shall we call it a slip of judgment?—cost me in this city. I want him.”

“You can’t possibly believe he wants you.”

“Of course not, but after his behavior at the party I have even more reason to make our social circle think we are together. I have it all thought out. You see, I told everyone that Brooks and I had to postpone our plans because of a problem with you. Since you are related by marriage, it seems perfectly logical. Nobody except you, me and Brooks knows the real reason, and if you are sensible, nobody will have to know.”

“I won’t help save your reputation.” Marisa turned away, staring at the white wall, willing this creature to leave.

“Really? And how about Brooks? Would you save him from humiliation? Surely you love him enough to do the best for him.”

Marisa turned back. “Of course I want what is best for him.”

“Then we have a common bond, Miss O’Bannion.” Violet smiled again. “Because I am the best for him and I want him.”

Marisa managed a snort of laughter. “You are a silly, spoiled bitch.”

Violet’s lips compressed. “Be that as it may, you cannot seriously believe that a
cripple
is what he wants?”

Cripple.

The word hung in the air like a rotten stench. It wrapped itself around Marisa’s body and choked her, threatened to suffocate her.

“I can see that you are thinking about it. That’s good, Miss O’Bannion. I want to leave you with a few more things to think about. Think about what it will be like for Brooks to push his bride around in an invalid’s chair. Or consider how he will feel when he carries you across the threshold—forever.” Violet
tsked
her tongue. “And I can’t imagine a man like Brooks being happy about having a cripple for a wife in his marriage bed.”

“Get out!” Marisa yelled. If she had been able to get out of the bed she would’ve beaten the hell out of Violet.

“Yes, I am through here.” Violet adjusted her hat and gloves. “I am so glad we had this happy talk. And Miss O’Bannion, I do hope your stay in hospital is a short one. The sooner you return to where you belong the better, for all of us.”

* * *

“Mr. James?”

The voice drifted to Brooks through layers of cotton and veils of fog.

He sat up with a shaking start. Sunlight blazed through the window at the end of the corridor. It had been night when he last talked to Doc.

“How long did I sleep?” Brooks asked the nurse who had hailed him as alarm ripped through him.

“The doctor would like to speak with you.”

He focused on the freckled young woman in the crisp cotton pinafore. “Has there been any change?” Brooks lurched to his feet.

“I can’t say, sir. You will need to speak with the doctor. Just go to that office over there.”

“Thank you.” Brooks ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his rumpled shirt. He was still in his riding clothes. He rubbed his hand over his jaws and felt a thickening beard.

A cold knot formed in his stomach as he walked down the hall toward the closed door. He forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, refusing to give in to the dark cloak of doubt and fear that hovered nearby.

He had to remain strong and confident for Marisa.

Brooks knocked lightly on the door. A woman’s voice bade him enter. He stepped inside.

Sonia Levy was a middle-aged woman with iron gray hair and dark brows. She sat behind a battered desk. When she smiled Brooks noticed she had kind brown eyes.

Brown eyes, like Marisa’s.

“Please, come in.” She gestured to a chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat, Mr. James. Would you care for some coffee?”

“Yes, thanks, Dr. Levy,” Brooks answered thickly. “I
am anxious to hear what you think about my fiancȳe’s condition.” Brooks had no time for idle chatter. “I brought her flowers,” Brooks added awkwardly.

Dr. Levy’s expression altered and she looked away, but not before Brooks recognized pity in her eyes. “As you know, I have already examined the young lady, Mr. James, several times.”

“How is she? Is there improvement?” he asked eagerly.

Dr. Levy opened her mouth to speak, but a knock on the door interrupted her. She stood up and stepped out from behind the desk. Brooks noticed her uncommon height and the athletic slimness of her body. She opened the door and took a tray from the same young nurse who had roused Brooks. The smell of strong, freshly brewed coffee filled the small office.

“You look like you could use about a gallon of this.” Dr. Levy smiled as she placed the tray on the desk.

“Not just now. I would like to discuss Marisa O’Bannion first. When did you last examine her?”

Dr. Levy returned to the chair behind her desk before she met Brooks’s gaze. “Just this morning. She woke while I was in the process of examining her.”

“Oh, thank God.” Brooks ran a hand over his face. “How is she? Is she all right?”

“Yes, well, it does seem as if she has passed one milestone. She is alert, lucid, but that is all I can tell you, Mr. James.”

Brooks’s head snapped up and he frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I know no other way to put this, Mr. James. I have taken your fiancée on as a patient. She and I had a long talk today. Now my primary responsibility is for her health and welfare.”

“As it should be.” Brooks felt his belly twist into knots. That feeling of doom washed over him again.

“I am glad you agree. And I hope you will understand when I tell you that I cannot discuss my patient with you. Without her permission I cannot reveal any details of her health or care.”

“She is my fiancée.”

Dr. Levy managed a thin smile. “So you said. Today I did a more thorough physical examination and work up. I explained her condition in some detail. We discussed her options.” Dr. Levy looked up and smiled. “She is a remarkable young woman.”

“I have always thought so,” Brooks agreed.

“I believe she understands what lies before her.”

“Marisa is a strong woman. Whatever is ahead
we
will come through together.”

“That’s the issue I have been trying to get to, Mr. James. Miss O’Bannion does not wish you to know anything about her condition.” Dr. Levy’s eyes filled with pity again.

“What do you mean?”

“Miss O’Bannion has expressly requested that you
not
see her again while she is in my care or receive any information about her whatsoever.”

Brooks was on his feet, across the room and reaching for the doorknob in a heartbeat. “I want to see her right now.”

“Wait, please, Mr. James. There is more. She has asked me to give you this letter and begs that you will do as she requests.” Dr. Levy opened the middle drawer of the desk and drew out an envelope.

Brooks stared at his name, written in Marisa’s familiar bold hand.

A chill of fear seeped into his bones. “We are going to be married.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. James, really I am.” Dr. Levy reached inside her skirt pocket and brought out the engagement ring. It sparkled just as brilliantly as it had when he’d slipped it on Marisa’s finger.

Before the accident.

“She asked me to return this to you and to tell you that she cannot marry you,” Dr. Levy said softly.

“I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it.” Brooks glowered at the physician. “Where is she? I want to see Marisa right now.”

“I’m sorry, but I must respect the wishes of my patient. She specifically does not wish to see you, Mr. James. I know this must be difficult for you to understand.” Dr. Levy nodded at the letter clutched in his hand. “Perhaps that will answer your questions. For your sake, I hope so.” The doctor rose from the chair and stepped out from behind the desk. “I have rounds to make. Please, feel free to use my office as long as you like.”

Brooks continued to stare at the sealed envelope. His heart contracted painfully in his chest. It was too much to consider that Marisa had changed her mind. She’d said she loved him, and had made love with him.

She’d given him her word, her promise of everlasting love.

There had to be another explanation, but as he stared at the dark ink, he could not imagine any reason strong enough to compel her to break their engagement.

“Unless she has changed her mind and she no longer cares,” he murmured in a choked voice.

Brooks shoved the well-read telegrams into his shirt pocket. Clell had been as succinct in his reply as Marisa
had been in the note she’d sent with Dr. Levy. From Clell’s cable, Brooks knew that Hugh and Shane were trailing a bull and fifty heifers to Montana, Bellami and Trace were still on their honeymoon and Flynn was on some law business in the Arizona Territory near Tombstone. Only Logan and Clell would be arriving on the five-fifteen train today.

Brooks glanced at the huge clock face and to his surprise saw that it was after five o’clock. Within minutes he was engulfed by a crowd of people. Voices mingled in a humming murmur as he was pulled and pushed toward the arriving train. Numb from what he had read in Marisa’s letter, he stood there waiting for Clell and Logan. When most of the people had left and he no longer felt as if he were suffocating in a sea of humanity, he looked up and saw them.

They both were wearing their Stetsons and both had trail-stained leather saddlebags thrown over their shoulders. They sauntered toward him in a loose-jointed gait that marked men who spent more time on horseback than on foot. A lump formed in Brooks’s throat at the sight of them.

“Boy, you look like you been rode hard and put up wet.” Clell slapped a wide palm on Brooks’s shoulder.

“I feel like it, too.” Brooks grimaced. He had not shaved and had barely eaten for the last several days. The reflection he saw in the mirror was of a shattered man. A man who had found love but unexplainably had had it slip away.

“How is Missy?” Logan asked as they made their way through the station.

“Marisa,” Brooks corrected.

“Eh?”

“Marisa. She prefers to be called Marisa now.” Brooks
rubbed his hand down his face, trying to focus, trying to sort his thoughts into some kind of order. He was exhausted both mentally and physically.

“Well, why in tarnation would she want to do a fool thing like that?” Logan asked.

“’Cause it’s her name, you young fool.” Clell’s brows were deeply furrowed. “How bad is she hurt, Brooks?”

They reached the carriage that Brooks had hired, and climbed inside. Logan took the scenery in with wide eyes as the carriage rolled out of the station.

“I don’t know how badly she is injured. They won’t let me in to see her.” Brooks nearly strangled on the words.

“What kind of damn hospital have you got her in? Take me to that consarned place. We’ll take care of that nonsense in short order, by God.” Clell tossed his saddlebags to the floor beside his boots.

Brooks leaned his head against the seat. He allowed his eyes to close against the pain of the bright sunshine. “I wish it was the hospital, Clell.”

“What the devil do you mean?” Clell asked in a quieter voice.

“Marisa refuses to see me,” Brooks admitted wearily.

“Did you two have another donnybrook?” Clell asked with a half grin.

“Not exactly.” Brooks shifted in the seat and forced himself to meet the old cowboy’s eyes.

Clell pressed on. “Why won’t she see you? She’s got to know you’d be worried about her.”

“She should know it,” Brooks said softly.

Clell narrowed his eyes and studied Brooks. “What exactly
did
go on between you two?”

“Oh, nothing much. I realized I was crazy in love with her, asked her to marry me and she said yes. That’s all
that happened.” Brooks sighed deeply. “We were engaged on the day of the accident.”

“Engaged?” Logan repeated.

“Then why in Sam Hill won’t she see you?” Clell dragged off his hat and raked his fingers through his slightly thinning hair.

“I don’t know. She was wearing my ring when she was thrown, but the doctor returned it to me with a note from Marisa that says she doesn’t want to see me again. No explanation, just that she can’t see me.”

“Have the driver of this rig take us to the hospital on the double. I’m gettin’ to the bottom of this right quick.”

Marisa stared out the window and thought about God. She had never really given Him a lot of thought before. Oh, she was religious enough, but her relationship with God was comfortable and second nature. She always pictured Him as an indulgent father, nearby but never requiring a lot of her attention. Now all her attention was focused on God.

She realized that she had been leading a truly blessed life. God had been very good to her. She knew what it felt like to have the sunshine on her face, to feel the wind in her hair. She knew what it felt like to be spoiled and doted on by her brothers and father and Clell. And thanks to Brooks, she knew what it felt like to experience love.

The memory of his searing touch flitted through her mind each night when she was in that place between wakefulness and dreaming. She smiled when she thought of the hot, licking desire they had shared.

It was a memory she would always treasure. But that was all it would be—a memory. She sighed and adjusted the lap robe over her lifeless legs in an automatic gesture.

A knock on the door brought her head around. She felt
a mixture of happiness and dread when Clell strode into her room.

“Hello, lil’ bit.” He bent and hugged her tightly. It was the kind of hug that cut the air off in midbreath but felt too good to squirm out of. She clung to him, trying not to give in to tears.