Someone to Watch Over Me (45 page)

“Tate!” said Dr. Watkins from behind us.

“Uh oh.”

‘
Nabbed
.’

“We could make a run for it.”

“Tate, she’s pregnant and recovering,” Dr.
Watkins warned. “There’s snow on the ground. The floors will be
wet. You could slip.”

Tate sighed in defeat. Hesitantly, we turned
around. God bless Dr. Watkins, she had a wheelchair. “It’s a dumb
rule,” she admitted, “but it’s enforced for a reason.”

“She made me do it,” Tate lied. “She gave me
the eyes.”

“I’m sure,” Dr. Watkins replied.

“It’s true. The last time she used those
lashes on me, we ended up in Vegas.”

‘
I’m scoffing, just so you know
.’

Steering the wheelchair to a stop, Dr.
Watkins locked the wheels so I could climb in. “Let’s hurry,” she
urged, “I just snatched this from an orderly down the hall.”

‘
I’ll take it
!’ I yielded. ‘
I
don’t care if I have to ride in the janitor’s bucket, just get me
out of here. No offense, Dr. Watkins, but I’ve had enough poking
and prodding to last a lifetime.
’

Ceding, Tate placed me back on my feet. I
hurried and climbed into the chair. I was willing to do whatever
was necessary to make it out the front door in the next ten
minutes, even if I was something as desperate as stealing a
wheelchair from the sick and elderly.

I really shouldn’t have complained. I had it
good. Tate brought me anything I needed, and much that I didn’t.
Food, clothes, entertainment, he had covered all the bases. But I
missed my son. I hadn’t seen him in weeks. If I wasn’t drugged and
sleeping, I was having tests and examinations done for either my
throat or my pregnancy. Plus, Dr. Watkins was worried about Levy
spreading germs and climbing on me. I wasn’t allowed to lift any
weight, and it was kinda hard to tell him no. He was too darn cute
for his own good. Likewise, it would be bad for the healing process
if I were to come down with a cold. None of the associated symptoms
was beneficial to the type of injuries I sustained. I couldn’t
disagree.

“Don’t worry about that,” Tate told his
mother. “She does that all the time.”

‘
What
?’

“Zoning, Coop, you were zoning again.”

I smiled guiltily.

“Maybe she’s divining our futures again,”
Carter said from behind us. We stopped and turned. He was still
loaded up with our bags. “I took a wrong turn, got lost.”

“How could you have gotten lost?” Tate
scoffed. “We practically grew up in this place.”

“It’s been a long fuckin’ time, man!”
Dropping two of our bags at Tate’s feet, he readjusted the third
and smallest on his shoulder. “Take your bags, Twat. They’re damn
heavy.”

Dr. Watkins shook her head, silently
scorning Carter for his language.

“Hey Mrs. Watkins.” Opening his arms wide,
he hugged her, dwarfing her small frame. “How’re you doing?”

“Good, Good. I see they haven’t broken you
of swearing.”

“They’ve tried, ma’am, but nobody came as
close as you have. You flat out put the fear of God into me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Carter, I’ve never
raised a hand to you.”

“Your threats were enough!” he objected.
“One time, you told me you would sew my mouth shut if you heard me
swear again!”

Dr. Watkins flushed. She put her shoulder
into the wheelchair and began to push. “I never thought you took me
seriously.”

“You used to wear the biggest trussing
needle in your sunhat. I always thought it was for people. Thing
scared the bejesus out of me. I used to have nightmares about
it.”

“If I would’ve known,” she threw over her
shoulder, “I would’ve strung it with twine and really frightened
you.”

“You’re an evil, evil woman.”

“And
you
were a wicked child.”

Pausing at the elevators, Tate strode around
us and pressed the button to go down. The doors slid open. He stuck
his foot over the track while Dr. Watkins pushed my wheelchair into
the car. We did a one-eighty and inched back so that Carter and
Tate could fit in with our bags.

“So what’s this I hear about divining?” Dr.
Watkins asked.

Tate exhaled heavily and looked away.

“Cooper’s ‘consciousness expanded
exponentially’ and she was making some crazy predictions about our
futures,” Carter explained. “Only, she says she doesn’t remember
anything and Tate won’t tell us what she said.”

‘
I was on morphine—I don’t
remember
.’

“I told you everything I knew,” Tate argued.
He readjusted one of the bags as it slipped down his shoulder. “She
didn’t say anything specific.”

‘
Seriously, Carter, when would I ever use
the word exponentially? I can barely spell it
.’

Carter scowled and shook his head. “You’re
both lame, guys, totally lame. I can’t believe you won’t tell me
what you saw.”

Behind me, Dr. Watkins laughed softly,
dividing her attention between the three of us. “You don’t really
believe that nonsense, do you?”

“Don’t question it,” Tate warned, in all
seriousness. “You won’t like what happens.”

‘
Fate doesn’t like to be ignored
.’ I
rubbed absently around the dimple where my trach scar was healing
over. Tate noticed and grasped my hand with a remorseful
squeeze.

I didn’t remember a thing about what I
might’ve seen or said, except for the little bit Tate told me.
Apparently, I was adamant that he reconcile with his mother, and
when he scoffed at the notion, I gave him cause to reconsider by
dropping my tablet on my trach tube, which forced a reluctant Tate
into the room with his mother when she responded to the nurse’s
page.

“You sound like your father,” Dr. Watkins
demurred with a slight roll of her eyes. “Superstitious old
fool.”

Tate winced and scrubbed a hand down his
jaw. “Mom,
please
. You know what—I’ll take that.” Brushing
his mother aside, he assumed control of the wheelchair. “I don’t
need the universe using my wife as a tool when it decides to teach
you a lesson for doubting its mastery.”

Dr. Watkins laughed quietly as the elevator
pinged and the doors slid open. Tate pushed the wheelchair into the
corridor. The air drafted through the entrance of the hospital,
carrying the bite of winter’s chill. For a moment, I thought I
could smell the fresh scent of snow. Sure enough, as we made our
way to the main entrance, I found the sky swirling with tiny white
flakes.

“Yuck,” Carter groaned.

“Shit,” Tate added.

“I hate snow,” Dr. Watkins chimed in.

‘
I love snow
,’ my monotone British
voice droned. ‘
It’s so pretty
.’ The three of them turned to
look at me, as if I were off my rocker. ‘
What
?’

“You love snow when you’re ten or twelve,”
Carter explained. “Not when you’re grown up and have to drive in
it.”

“Or walk in it,” Dr. Watkins added. “Or
rather slip and fall in it.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Tate agreed. “Maybe
we can stay one more night.”

‘
Not a chance
.’ I put my foot down.
‘
I don’t care if you have to call in the Army Reserves. I’m
going to see my son today
.’

“Speaking of reserves,” Carter observed,
“there they are now.”

Outside, our Prevost coasted slowly to a
stop. Oh, dear God, he brought the reserves to take me home. A wide
smile spread across my face. I barely made it two inches out of the
chair before Tate’s hand landed on my shoulder. “Don’t even think
about it.”

‘
What
?
What
?’

“The kid’s going to want to be picked
up.”

‘
I know that
.’

“Then sit down so you can hold him.”

The door opened on the bus. Nolan stepped
carefully down the stairs, carrying a kicking and wriggling Levy in
his arms. The older of the two said something to the younger one,
and he promptly fell still. His fingers went into his mouth, his
neck shrinking into his shoulders.

“I never understood how he did that,” Dr.
Watkins voiced. “You boys acted like monsters whenever I took you
anywhere, but when your father was around…”

“He had this old leather belt,” Tate
explained. “When you would fold it in half and pull it taut, the
two straps would smack together and make one helluva scary
noise.”

I must’ve made a face because Tate was quick
to reassure me.

“He never actually hit me with it. The noise
alone was enough threat to get the point across.”

“He hit me with it,” Carter objected. “It
wasn’t all noise.” He rubbed at his backside, still sore over the
punishment he’d received.

Em stepped off the bus next, then Shane and
Jake, diverting my attention. Surprising me, Marshall appeared,
followed by Evan, Taylor and Derek. Behind them, my parents stood
on the stairs of the bus, waving from a safe distance where they
wouldn’t slip on the ice.

My eyes brimming with tears, I waved at my
parents, and turned my attention back to Levy. He sat silently in
Nolan’s arms until he spotted me as they came through the lobby
doors. His face split into a wide smile, his eyes disappearing
behind his plump cheeks.

Boisterously, he returned to bouncing and
wriggling, pointing his finger in my direction. “Momma! Das Momma!
Momma’s getted a boo boo.”

“That’s right, so you’re going to sit still,
right?” Nolan said, coaching his behavior. “You’re going to be
careful so you don’t hurt her?”

“I down!” was all Levy managed to get out in
his excitement. “I down! I down!” He trailed off in a stream of
unintelligible babbling, his mouth moving a mile a minute. Three
weeks of separation burst forth, his excitement turning to
frustration and tears.

Tate’s hand tightened on my shoulder. “He’s
fine. Just let him calm down.”

Everyone paused to watch the scene. Those
who didn’t know us stared in contempt, but I couldn’t spare them
the time or attention. My son’s distress had me otherwise occupied.
Those who did know us were lamenting with me. I caught tears
nestled in Em’s deep, blue eyes.

‘
Let him down
.’

“Coop—”

I cut Tate with a scathing glare that told
him to shut it. I wanted my son. Nothing I could type would make my
point as thoroughly or concisely. Sometimes pictures were better
than words.

“Ok,” Tate caved. “Give him over.” Dropping
the two bags to the floor, he took Levy from his dad and sat him on
my lap, warding off every advance Levy made on my neck.

When Levy finally grew exhausted and settled
on my lap, latched onto me like a baby sloth, Tate finally backed
off and relaxed. “I think I know why you used to chew on those
antacids like you did,” Tate said to his dad. He pressed the heel
of his palm against his chest and rubbed. “Man, you used to eat
those things like tic tacs.”

Nolan grinned and pulled a roll of Tums from
his pocket. He tossed them to Tate. “Haven’t had to carry these in
years.”

“I’m going to buy stock in the company,”
Tate said, unrolling two free and popping them in his mouth. “I
have a feeling I’m going to need a lot of them.”

The rest of the gang converged around my
wheelchair, ruffling my hair while peppering me with well-wishes
and questions I could barely answer. My thumbs didn’t move that
quickly, even if I wasn’t holding Levy. Mostly I shook my head,
nodded or smiled in response.

In short, Derek didn’t want to cut my throat
ever again, even if it was to save my life. He had been the one to
take lifesaving measures when I lost consciousness. He had to get
me breathing again until the paramedics arrived. Everyone else
agreed wholeheartedly. More than a few of them shielded their
throats with unease as they nodded along, recalling the event.

I assured him that it didn’t hurt. I hadn’t
felt a thing. And pointed out with appreciation that he saved three
lives that day. I wasn’t sure how long I could’ve gone without
oxygen before brain damage or threat to the pregnancy were to
occur, but I was glad I hadn’t found out.

“Three lives?” Em inquired, perceptive as
ever. “Why three?”

My mouth flapped, searching for an answer.
We hadn’t told anyone about the twins yet. Tate wanted to tell
everyone together, hence the bus and our close-knit group of
friends.

“Coop, the baby and Amanda Keller,” Tate
answered. “Because I would’ve committed a homicide if things ended
differently.” Taking Levy from my arms, he helped me from the
wheelchair. “Let’s get this show on the road before we don’t have a
choice but to stay. Weather’s getting bad.”

Em stared suspiciously and headed for the
exit. Shane and Jake followed. Marshall and Taylor grabbed our
bags.

“Mom, you coming?” Tate asked. She already
knew, of course. Being my doctor, she had access to all my charts
and records. But he was making an effort to include her.

Dr. Watkins glanced at her pager and dropped
it into the pocket of her lab coat. “Can you give me five minutes?
I need to make a quick call.”

“I’ll wait for her,” Nolan offered. “It’s
getting slippery out there.”

With that settled, we headed out the door.
Ok, so the snow wasn’t ‘pretty’ at all. It wasn’t the light fluffy
type that piled up like goose feathers. It was coming down in icy
little pellets that rolled and slid under your feet like the punch
line of a practical joke.

We only had to walk a few feet from beneath
the awning to the door of the bus. It was slippery going, but we
made it without incident. A moment later, I was in my parents’
embrace.

“We came as soon as we could,” Dad
apologized, his voice gruff. Like the altruistic parent he was, he
felt guilty for not being there to hold my hand. It didn’t matter
that he was still on the road to recovery himself.

“Had to get the doctor’s approval before he
could fly,” Mom explained.