Loving Laura (The Cantrelle Family Trilogy) (6 page)

Now, though, she wondered. She felt inexplicably drawn to Neil Cantrelle. There was that hint of sadness around his eyes—a longing she recognized, because she felt a similar longing deep within herself.

But there had been more than sadness and emptiness in his eyes tonight. There’d also been a question mark. Neil Cantrelle wanted something from her. Uneasily, she wondered what it could be.

“Your brother’s just regained consciousness.” The same skinny redheaded nurse who’d been on duty the day before beckoned them from the doorway of intensive care.

Denise gave Neil a wide-eyed look. He squeezed her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. He felt the same apprehension he saw in her eyes.

“I’d better call Mama and Papa,” she said.

The nurse waited with Neil. Once Denise had made the call, they headed for Norman’s room. Pushing open the double doors that led into the unit, the nurse gestured them to follow. Inside, it was like being in a different world. The place hummed with activity, but it was a controlled, quiet activity. Neil glanced around, noticing with approval how each person moved with calm, but rapid, efficiency. The area smelled strongly of disinfectant and medication, and it was spotlessly clean.

The nurse led them to the second doorway on their left. “Wait here,” she said. “I’ll get Dr. Dunado.”

She entered the room, and Neil and Denise looked at each other. Denise looked scared. Neil wished he could tell her there wasn’t anything to be frightened of, but if he were honest with himself, he’d have to admit he was scared, too. Inside that room Norman was fighting for his life. Fighting for his life, and only thirty-four years old.

No one should die that young. Reluctantly, he remembered that Jimmy had only been thirty-one when he’d died. He shook off the thought. At the moment, he needed to focus all his energy on willing Norman to live. He couldn’t even worry about the loss of Norman’s leg. If Norman survived, they’d all have to deal with it, but right now, getting him past this crisis was the most important issue.

The nurse slipped through the door. “The doctor’s coming out. He wants to tell you a few things before you go in to see your brother.”

Neil nodded.

Within seconds, Dunado emerged from the room, a grave expression on his face. The thick lenses of his glasses looked almost opaque as he directed his remarks to Neil. “The two of you can go in for five minutes. No longer. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” they both said at the same time.

“Your brother doesn’t know about his leg,” Dunado continued, “and I don’t want you to tell him. I’ll tell him when I think he’s strong enough to withstand the shock.” Neil frowned. Wouldn’t Norman be able to tell that his leg had been amputated?

“He’s groggy and in a lot of pain. He’s also restrained from much movement by the machines and tubes, so he’s not likely to realize what’s happened to him. By morning we’ll probably have to tell him.”

“I’d like to be with him when you do,” Neil said. He’d rather be anywhere else, but he knew Norman would need him.

Denise’s small hand slid into his, and Neil grasped it firmly. He could feel the tremor in her body.

“Okay, then, you two can go in. Whatever you do, don’t upset him. He’s probably aware enough to know he’s been seriously injured—just don’t give him any information he doesn’t need.”

After giving Denise’s hand one more squeeze, Neil pushed open the door, and they entered the room. It was dimly lighted from a low-wattage fluorescent light attached to the wall over the top of the bed. A cardiac monitor bleeped next to the bed, and there was a pole with an intravenous bag and tubes everywhere. It seemed as if every available stretch of Norman’s skin had something attached to it or stuck into it. Norman lay back against the pillows, swathed in bandages. His eyes were closed.

“Norman?” Neil said. He tried to control the shock radiating through his body at how suddenly helpless, even smaller, his brother looked. He’d thought he was prepared for this; he’d certainly seen enough injury and death during his twelve years on the force, but this was different. This was family. This was Norman.

Norman’s eyes opened. “Neil?” he whispered.

The whisper was faint—so faint, Neil had to lean forward to hear him. He smiled. “I’m here, little brother.” He touched Norman’s hand, which was lying on top of the blanket. “Can’t I trust you to stay out of trouble when I’m not around?” He forced himself not to look at the tented spot where Norman’s right leg should have been. A lump formed in his throat, and his eyes burned. He hadn’t cried since he was nine years old and the family dog had been hit by a car. But today, here, now, he wanted to bawl like a baby.

“I’m here too, Norman,” Denise said, walking to the other side of the bed.

Norman slowly moved his head toward her. He made a visible attempt to smile, then closed his eyes wearily. “Denise,” he whispered. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she answered, lower lip trembling. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she knuckled it away. Her dark eyes met Neil’s gaze, and for a moment they stared at one another in silent agony.

Don’t cry. Be strong. I know exactly how you feel, and you can cry when we leave this room, but not now.
Neil concentrated on communicating his message, and Denise blinked. She took a deep breath and nodded slightly. Neil relaxed. She was going to be all right.

“Neil,” Norman said, his voice weak but clear. “There was an accident, wasn’t there?”

“Yes.”

Norman closed his eyes, then opened them, frowning. “I...I think I re-remember.” The frown deepened. “L- Laura.” Now his voice grew agitated, and the monitor bleeped faster. “H-how is Laura? Is she okay?”

Neil covered Norman’s hand with his. “Laura’s fine. Denise and I were just downstairs talking to her.”

“Are you... sure?”

His breathing was still too fast, Neil thought. “I’m sure. Now don’t get excited. It’s not good for you to get excited.”

“Y-you wouldn’t lie to me?”

“Norman,” Denise interjected, “Laura is fine. She just has a few bruises, but otherwise she’s doing great.”

“I... I tried to save her,” Norman said. “I saw that car come into our lane... and...”

“You don’t have to explain,” Neil said.

Ignoring Neil, Norman continued, and as he talked his voice became weaker. “I swerved so they wouldn’t hit us head-on or on Laura’s side”

“Shh,” Denise soothed. “Don’t talk anymore. Just concentrate on getting well.”

“My... my legs... hurt,” Norman said.

Neil’s heart hammered in his chest. Although he hadn’t prayed much over the past years, he sent a silent prayer heavenward.

Denise bent over and kissed Norman on the cheek. “Try to sleep now,” she murmured. “Neil and I were given strict instructions that we could only stay five minutes, so we’d better be going.”

“Don’t go--”

“We’ll be right outside,” Neil said. “In the waiting room, so if you need us, all you have to do is ask the nurse to call us.”

“Wh-where are Mama and Papa?”

“They’re coming. We made them go home last night. Mama was pretty tired,” Denise said. “But they’ll be here soon.”

Five minutes later, as Denise and Neil stood together in the waiting room, Denise said, “Oh, God, Neil. It’s so much worse than I imagined it would be.” Her face crumpled, and Neil folded her into his arms. Her entire body shook as she cried, and he could feel the heat of her tears soaking through his sweater. His insides trembled, and he had to fight against his own despair. It wouldn’t help anyone for him to break down. He’d be much better off— they’d
all
be much better off—if he became angry.

He clenched his teeth as he patted Denise’s back. Her sobs had become quieter now. Damn it all, he
was
angry. He was furious that the fates had pulled such a cruel trick on Norman, who didn’t deserve it. Having had firsthand experience with so many slimeballs in the world, Neil thought it was poor planning on somebody’s part that so many of them seemed to prosper and thrive while people like Norman had gotten such a raw deal. The healthy spurt of anger gave him a needed injection of strength, and he said, “Come on, Denise. Pull yourself together. Crying won’t help Norman. We’ve gotta be strong for him. He’s going to need us.”

Denise sniffed and pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her jeans. She blew her nose. “I... I know you’re right. I’m sorry, Neil. It’s just that—”

“I know. It’s okay. But now you’ve got it off your chest, so let’s forget it.”

She nodded.

“Let’s go sit over there,” Neil said. They walked to the couch at the end of the hall and sat down. “Let’s talk about something else while we’re waiting for the folks. You were going to tell me more about Laura. What do you think of her, and why do you think she’s not in love with Norman?”

Denise drew her legs up under her and settled more comfortably into the corner of the couch. “I really like her. She’s thoughtful and intelligent, and when she lets her guard down, she’s got a wonderful sense of humor. And she’s fantastic with the kids. Jeannine adores her. And Jett likes her, too. He told me she was a very restful sort of person.” Denise grinned, and Neil thought how pretty she was when she smiled. “I guess Jett was subtly trying to tell me that I’m often
not
a very restful sort of person.”

“Did you tell him you’re operating under a handicap?” Neil teased. “After all, you’re a Cantrelle.”

Denise chuckled. Then, suddenly, her face twisted. “Oh, Neil, here we are making jokes, and Norman—”

Neil reached over and grasped her hand. “I know,
chére.
But you can’t be sad all the time. Just because we forget for a minute and laugh about something doesn’t mean we don’t care.”

Her dark eyes slowly brightened, and she leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Neil,” she said softly. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” he said, his heart full. “Now,” he added briskly, “finish what you were saying about Laura.”

“Well, she and I have gotten to be pretty good friends, although—”

“What?”

“Well, she’s very private. She’ll listen to me go on for hours, but she’s told me very little about her own background. I don’t know why, I mean, it’s just a feeling—not based on fact or anything—but I think she comes from a background she’s ashamed of. Or, if not ashamed, a bad situation she wants to forget. There’s... there’s a sadness in her eyes that she sometimes forgets to cover up.” Denise looked up at him, her own eyes earnest. “It almost seems too pat, like armchair psychology or something, but Laura has always struck me as emotionally needy—like a woman who has never had love and comfort and desperately wants it.”

It didn’t seem too pat to Neil. He thought Denise was right. He’d seen something of the same thing in Laura Sebastian’s eyes.

“You should see the way she reacts when Mama and Papa are around,” Denise continued softly. “Her eyes follow than around like . . . well, like she just wants them to be
her
parents.”

Neil couldn’t condemn her for that. His parents were great.

“I also think she’s got some problems, but since she’s never confided in me, I haven’t wanted to ask her.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Well . . . ”

“Come on, tell me,” Neil urged. It wasn’t like Denise to be reticent.

Denise frowned. “Well, I think she’s terrified of the dark. Lights blaze in her part of the house all night long—”

“Her part of the house?”

“Didn’t I tell you? She rents the other half of our house.”

“No, you didn’t .”

“Anyway,” Denise continued after explaining how Laura had come to be their tenant, “I asked Norman about my suspicion, and he just brushed it off. Said, well, yeah, Laura had kind of mentioned she was scared of the dark, but it wasn’t a big deal. She’d get over it.”

That sounded like Norman, Neil thought. He was reminded of the time the family had all gone to Gulf Shores on a vacation. Norman must have been about fifteen, so Nicole would have been eight. They were swimming, and Nicole wouldn’t go into water deeper than her knees. Norman’s solution to her fear was to pick her up, kicking and screaming, and take her into deeper water and throw her in. He hadn’t meant to be mean, but he simply hadn’t understood that her fear was real. He wasn’t afraid. Why should she be? And when their parents berated him, he still hadn’t understood. He was honestly bewildered by their anger.

“Neil,” Denise said, breaking into his reverie, “Whatever happens, promise me something, will you?”

“Anything,” he said with a smile.

“Be kind to Laura. I... I know your first loyalty is to Norman. Mine is, too. But Laura’s hurting, I know she is. And she’s going to need us, too.”

Their eyes met. God, he’d missed her. How could he have stayed away for three years? “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

* * *

When Laura awakened on Monday morning, she immediately knew she was better. For one thing, her head no longer hurt, and when she took a breath, although there was still some pain, it no longer tore through her like a rampaging lion.

“I’d like to go home today,” she told Dr. Dunado when he made his rounds.

“Too soon.” He listened to her chest.

“I really want to go home,” she insisted. “I feel much better.” She hated hospitals. And she missed her cats, her own things around her, and Jeannine. Especially Jeannine.

Dunado made a notation on her chart. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, then pursed his lips as he studied her. “You’re doing quite well. You can probably go home tomorrow.”

“Please let me go today,” Laura persisted. “There’s no one to do the payroll, and the men need their money.”

“I said you can probably leave tomorrow. Now that’s all I’m going to say.” He turned to leave.

“Dr. Dunado! Is there any change in Norman’s condition?”

He turned slowly. “He’s conscious, but he’s still in critical condition.”

“Oh.” Laura bit her lip. Conscious. Did that mean he knew about his leg? She wanted to ask, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. “Would... would you tell him I asked about him?”

He nodded, face softening for a minute, then he swung on his heel and left the room.