Surrender My Love (4 page)

She’d suffered
a traumatic brain injury that left her with the cognitive reasoning of a child. She needed help with every aspect of daily life and required twenty-four hour supervision. Rose had many good days, days when a smile lit her eyes, and she had the exuberance of a happy child, but there were also many bad days, days when Rose screamed and wailed for a husband and life that had been extinguished almost two decades ago. In her mind, the reality of today swirled sadly with a cloudy, unattainable past and there seemed no way to separate the two. Those days broke Chloe’s heart. She was thankful that today was a good day.

“
Ice cream! Ice cream!” Rose started to chant, and Chloe knew once her mother had her mind fixed on dessert, there was no swaying her otherwise.

“Okay.
” Chloe waggled a finger at her and smiled widely. “But tomorrow, you must promise to eat all your meals.”

“Ice cream
! Ice cream! Want ice cream, Chloe!”

Chloe wasn’t sure her mother had heard her, but found it difficult to remain stern when she saw the light glowing in Rose’s eyes
. Ice cream was her favorite dessert. Chloe leaned over and gently wiped the corner of her lips with a napkin, then packed the dinner dishes onto a tray.

“I’ll be right back.”

Rose nodded excitedly and Chlo
e smiled again, planting a kiss on her forehead. At least she’d be getting some calories. Chloe couldn’t be too upset. She made a mental note to inform the aides who worked with her mother that she could have ice cream whenever she wanted.

Making her way to th
e tiny kitchen, she glanced at the wall clock, expressing a huff of exasperation. Her brother was late again. She had to be at work in three hours and was hoping to go home and get some rest before her shift started. She was exhausted. She’d come here straight from work and hadn’t had a chance to sleep.

She was in the kitchen scooping ice cream when she heard
the door to the apartment open and her brother, Richard, call her name.

“I’m in here!” she responded, trying to cool her
simmering anger.

“Hey, sis
.” Richard’s thin body appeared in the doorway, his face displaying his usual indifference.

“Don’t ‘Hey, s
is’ me!” Chloe glared at her younger brother, taking in his baggy jeans and ripped tee shirt. This week his hair was green. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago!”

“I’m sorry. I got delayed.”

Chloe walked over and handed him the bowl of ice cream. She eyed him quizzically, a niggling fear always at the back of her head. “That’s for Mom. Make sure she eats all of it!” She took a step back, her gaze landing on his bright orange sneakers. “Are those new?”

Her br
other grinned and proffered a foot, dangling his fluorescent shoe.

Chloe’s jaw dropped. “
Richard! How much were those?”

He
sighed with exasperation and regarded her angrily. “One fifty, but I got ten percent off cuz a friend of mine works at the Shoe Depot!”

Chloe shook her head in disbelief and
gaped at her brother, thinking he looked and acted a lot younger than his twenty-one years. “You know we can’t afford them! It’s irresponsible of you to have bought them!” she started to yell, but her gaze slid to the door of her mother’s room and she lowered her voice.

They were barely making ends meet, barely
had enough to afford the care their mother needed. As it was, they had to cut the hours that the aides stayed at the apartment, and she and Richard were covering the shifts. Her brother was clueless when it came to finances. Right now, he was living with a roommate down town in SoHo.

He apparently did chores around the apartment and was allowed to stay there rent-free. When he’d been working, he and Chloe had put money in an account to pay for their mom’s medical bills and living expenses. Now that he wasn’t employed and contributing, that money was quickly dwindling. And despite their dire situation, he continued to spend money like they had it. She worried that he was spending it in other ways, but that was not a subject she was willing to tackle now.

“That’s it! You are not allowed to withdraw money from the account unless you ask me.” Chloe brushed by him, ignoring the look of shock on his face.

“You’re kidding, right? That’s my money too!” He fingered the silver ring protruding from his bottom lip.

Chl
oe grabbed her jacket and purse, and faced him squarely. She didn’t have time to explain to him that he’d already exhausted all the money he’d contributed to the account.

“No, Richard. I’m not kidding. We are in trouble here and you fail to understand that.
You have to be more responsible. Why do you have to act like such a child?”

“Why
do you have to act like such a fucking old woman? Blah, blah, blah!” he snapped.

Chloe pull
ed up short, his words echoing those of her friend. She swallowed the pain. They were a stinging reminder that she’d always been the mature one, the one who had to take care of the family even before her mother’s almost fatal accident. Their father had died when she was eight years old and her mother had all but stopped living, becoming an empty shell of her former self. It had been Chloe who made sure they were up, fed, and ready for school. She’d done the laundry, balanced the check book the best she could, and held him at night when he was afraid of the dark. Richard had only been three years old, too young to remember the devastation.

“
You need to get a job. We won’t be able to make it on my salary alone.” She heard her voice crack and hated the emotion that laced her words.

Richard approached her, his face apologetic as usual.
He must have heard the desperation in her tone. “I’ll start looking again. I promise.”

Chloe sighed heavily and looked into her brother’s dark green eyes. He’d made that same promise a few months ago, right after their mother’s last surgery. She swallowed hard and tried to think of a way to make her irresponsible brother understand their
dire situation, but fatigue was dulling her brain and making her lethargic. She needed to rest before her shift.

Just then her cell phone vibrated and she fished it out of her purse. She was su
rprised to hear her nursing supervisor’s voice. In clipped tones Nurse Wall asked her to come in to work an hour early and report straight to Dr. Markson’s office. She said they needed to speak with her, but offered no details. Chloe numbly agreed then signed off the phone.

Fear pounded
in her brain, drumming along every nerve ending. She stood still, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. This was it. Dr. Markson was lodging a complaint. No doubt encouraged by Nurse Wall. Whenever an official complaint was lodged, the nurse had to be spoken to by the accuser and was required to sign official documentation. The next step would be speaking to Mrs. Pardon, her nursing director, to recommend her discharge.

Seeming to sense her anxiety, Richard sidled up next to her. “
Is everything okay?”

Chloe p
ressed back the rush of tears, determined to be, as usual, the strong and steady rudder in the turbulent storm. She embraced her brother, clinging to his thin shoulders. Eventually she pulled back and offered him a synthetic smile.

“Ice cream! Ice cream!”

“Please start looking for a job, Richard. It’ll be fine.” Her head swerved towards the door to her mother’s room. She turned back to her brother and started to quickly run down her verbal list of reminders. Ignoring the insolent roll of his eyes, she headed to the bedroom to say goodbye to her mother.

Brad stalked in to his
medical suite, his steps muted on the plush burgundy carpet. The suite was traditionally appointed in sleek dark wood, imposing furniture, and expensive reproductions. It conveyed strength and unquestionable confidence—at least that’s what the decorator had told him. The expansive space of reception appeared to be a room in some stately mansion instead of an exclusive wing of a metropolitan hospital.

Upon seeing him, his secretary rose from her des
k and followed quickly, her short steps shuffling to match his long-legged stride.

“You’re done with rounds already?
Your next patient isn’t for an hour,” Bea asked as they entered his private office and approached his large mahogany desk.

“I didn’t make i
t to rounds,” he explained, circling his desk and picking up a stack of mail awaiting his attention.

“What? Why not?”
Irritation threaded through her voice.

“I just didn’t,
” he mumbled, shuffling through envelopes. Peripherally he could see his secretary root a hand on her hip, getting ready to shower him with attitude. He held up one of the envelopes, recognizing the sender.

“What’s this?” h
e asked, looking into his secretary’s smooth, dark-brown face.

“The invitation to the
Omega Pharmaceuticals dinner. I told you it was coming. The dinner is in two weeks.”

“I’m
very selective about the lectures I attend. I’m not going.” With a flick of his wrist, he callously sent the envelope sailing onto his desk.

“
Yes, you are.”

“
It’s not really for cardiologists anyway. It’s a lecture on Alzheimer’s.”

“I know, but I’ve already RSVP’d for you. A lot of your patients are elderly.
Mr. John Fusso will be there. He called personally to ask if you’re attending. I think you have a seat reserved next to him.”

He snorted at the mention of the wealthy investor
, then made a face and continued flipping through the mail.

“John’s just angling for an introduction to my parents. He wants in on their latest project. He’s an opportunist.”

He heard Bea’s cell phone buzz in her pocket.

“How’s Jason?” Bea had left work early the day before because her five year old son had a stomach flu.

“He’s fine now, thanks,
” she said, but her face pinched with annoyance as she stared him down. She pressed some buttons on her phone as she spoke, then tucked it back into her pocket. “Hold up, you’re not getting off that easy. Don’t change the subject. What do you mean you didn’t make rounds?”

“I had
something else to take care of,” he grumbled.

“
Great! Now I’ll have Madame Butterfly calling me every five minutes trying to track your ass down. You know she doesn’t do well without her daily dose of Brad!”

He heard the huff of exasperation leave his secretary’s lungs, but purposely didn’t look up, irritating her further, he was sure.
He could just imagine her scowling at him. If he wasn’t in such a black mood, he’d smile. He secretly enjoyed verbally sparring with her. She was smart and sassy and way too outspoken for her own good. And she was the best secretary he’d ever had. She’d come from a temp agency, and he refused to let her leave, warning he’d give her a bad reference if she did. Three years later, she still insisted she was temping, and even though he paid her twice what he’d paid his last secretary, she threatened to quit at least once a week.

“Tell her I’m in surgery.”

“I’ll tell her you’ve lost your damn mind! I’m already fielding calls from Diane—lord knows what you did to her last night! And that...Jasmine girl from last month! I wasn’t hired to be your bimbo barricade! You don’t see me bringing my personal life into the office! I don’t have time to deal with Madame Butterfly. I have real work to do!”

Brad
tossed the mail on his desk and straightened. “I’ll have you know that Madame Angelique LaFontine is a world renowned aria—”

“Uh-huh…W
ell, she apparently needs you to help her hit all those high notes! I’m not dealing with her today. She’s always so rude when she calls. I’m putting her right through to you.”

“
Don’t you dare put Angelique through!” He shook a finger at his stubborn secretary. “I have—” His gaze landed on a foil square on his desk. “What’s that?” He frowned.

“It’
s called a sandwich.”

He
narrowed his eyes and sent her a piercing look. “I know what it is. What is it doing on my desk?”

“
You’ve had a rough morning. You haven’t eaten all day, and if you want to maintain that sunny disposition of yours, you need to—”

“Fine, fine.” H
e waved a dismissive hand in her direction, needing to get to the matter on his mind. “I have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“What meeting?”

“With a nurse. Her name is Chloe Bennett.”

He watched Bea run a hand over her natural locks and started to grow uncomfortable under her
keenly assessing gaze. There was never a meeting planned, surgery scheduled, or speaking engagement that Bea didn’t know about or orchestrate. She basically ran his professional life and kept him on schedule.

“When you say
meeting,
you mean…”

Now he
couldn’t help the tickle of humor that pulled his lips. He knew Bea was gearing up to give him a tongue lashing about keeping his private life out of the office.