Sweetest Desires (A Sweetest Day Romance) (28 page)

Chapter 38

Cindy had successfully avoided Carson
since his return from Los Angeles. Her plan was perfectly intact. So far, everything had fallen into place.

She burst through the main door of the Weekly, rushing to the security desk as if her business took precedence over anything else.

“Good afternoon,” said the security guard behind the desk, who was monitoring several miniature televisions and simultaneously watching the door. “Sign in, please.”

“Please, I need to see Carson O’Connor right away,” Cindy said in a shaking voice. She blew her nose into a tissue that came away smudged by her bronze-colored lipstick but otherwise unsoiled. She bunched it in her hand.

“Yes, ma’am,” the security guard answered. “Please sign the register.” He lifted a pen attached to the sign-in clipboard by a beaded chain.

Cindy’s hand shook as she scribbled her name on the ruled line.

“Mr. O’Connor’s office is on the nineteenth floor,” the guard informed her, not realizing she knew the way perfectly well. “The elevators to floors ten through nineteen are to your left.”

“Th-thank you,” she stammered, continuing her masquerade.

As she turned to leave, the guard asked, “Ma’am, are you okay? Would you like an escort?”

“No, thank you.” She sniffed to add dramatic effect and began walking. Within seconds, she was around the corner and out of the guard’s sight.

The up-arrow button was already illuminated. When the elevator door opened, three other people got in with her. When the last person got out on the sixteenth floor, Cindy rumpled her collar and her skirt to make it look as if she were involved in a struggle of sort.

She burst from the opening doors of the elevator and rushed over to the front desk. “I need to see Carson O’Connor, right away. It’s an emergency. I’m a friend of his. I’ve just read some dreadful lies about him and his wife. I ran all the way here—four blocks—to tell him. I can’t believe someone would stoop so low—”

The blonde receptionist cut her off. “Mr. O’Connor is away from the office, Ms.—”

“Lomax. Cynthia Lomax.”

“Uh, Mr. O’Connor is out of the office, Ms. Lomax,” the woman repeated. “I’m not sure when he’ll return.”

Cindy gazed at the woman and said in a calmer voice, “Oh, I see. Well, can you tell me the location of his appointment? It’s very important.” She put on a look of grave concern.

“Mr. O’Connor is at Scarsborough General Hospital. His wife is in intensive care.”

Stunned, Cindy gulped the air. “What?” Her brows crinkled. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure.”

Cindy stared at the golden haired busty blonde, wondering if she knew more than she cared to admit. Since it would’ve been useless to drill the woman for more information, she just said, “Thank you.” She hurried out of the building to her car and sped through the busy downtown streets, anxious to get to the ICU. All sorts of ideas were traveling through her thoughts.
Maybe she was in a bad car accident, or she probably caught a severe case of food poisoning.
When the most obvious notion struck her, she choked back a deep breath.
Oh, God,
she screamed within.
The Ledger! Katharine read the article and had a heart attack behind it! The divorce decree, marriage certificate and photos were probably the icing on the cake. Her heart couldn’t take it.

Cindy gripped the steering wheel with one hand and covered her mouth tightly with the other.

* * *

Deanna was eating a salad when her mother called to share the news that Katharine had been hospitalized. Without answering, Deanna dropped her fork, which clattered against her plate.

“What was that?”

“My fork!” Deanna angrily pushed her plate aside. “Why can’t she just die? It would make all our lives easier.” What if Carson deserted her and Cindy and went back to his family because his wife was hurt or ill?

“Deanna!” Cindy snapped. “You should never wish death on anyone. Now take it back and ask God for forgiveness.”

Deanna made a huffing sound but didn’t answer.

“I mean it, Deanna! Take it back, right now!”

Deanna sucked her teeth. “Forgive me, Lord,” she said insincerely, but it seemed to satisfy Cindy.

“That’s better.” Cindy said. “I love you too much to have anything happen to you. I just couldn’t bear losing you like I did Norman.”

Regretting that she’d stirred up such a painful memory, Deanna, now that she’d started her menstrual cycle, decided to remind her mother that they’d planned to discuss sex that evening. She had to turn the disturbing conversation away from her dad.

“Now that I’ve finally gotten my nerve up,” she pretended, “I was looking forward to an open talk with you about dating and birth control—you know—the whole sex scene.”

In fact, Deanna didn’t need the talk. Her grandmother had been candid about the subject, advocating abstinence before marriage and giving Deanna biblical references to support her position. Like her grandmother, Deanna clung to the quaint notion that virtue was a deterrent to premarital sex. But Deanna’s intention to save sex for marriage had nothing to do with the Bible. In truth, she didn’t want to gain her mother’s dating reputation.

Chapter 39

Cindy parked the car and
entered the hospital, making haste along the busy corridors past scurrying nurses and Hispanic cleaning ladies lyrically murmuring to each other in their native language over their buckets. She first sought Carson’s arrival. She wanted to console him, but when she couldn’t find him, she arrived at the Information desk. After acquiring Katharine’s room number, relieved to learn she wasn’t in the ICU after all, she headed directly into her room in the emergency ward. The ER desk staff was reviewing paperwork and too preoccupied to notice her.

She tiptoed to the bed. Katharine’s eyes were closed. A tube had been inserted into her mouth, held in place by a patch of white tape across her lips. Smaller tubes had been placed in her nostrils. Wires and conduits and catheters attached to various machines disappeared beneath the sheet covering her.

Cindy reached out to take Katharine’s hand. It was cold, unresponsive.

The familiar atmosphere sent Cindy back in time so that she seemed to be standing beside Norman’s bed. All his flesh had been eaten away from the inside out, his face emaciated. His hand, all bones, was closed around hers, cold and unyielding as metal.

Months earlier, she learned the prognosis—inoperable cancer had spread through his kidneys, bowels and rapidly moving elsewhere throughout his body. But they’d given him treatments—chemotherapy and radiation to arrest the cancer’s progress.

Her life changed into a nightmare of hospital visits and aborted outings with Deanna.

And what had it all done to Deanna? “You don’t love me anymore, Daddy,” she’d cried, rejecting comfort, refusing explanations, rebuffing embraces. “Why won’t you get well and come home?” And from that time to this, Cindy could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times Deanna had allowed anyone to show her affection. Instead, she’d found comfort in high-calorie food.

At thirty-eight, he’d looked eighty. His hair had fallen out after the chemotherapy. The doctors had discontinued everything but the painkillers. Then he died. Norman was dead.

Cindy broke free from her memory. Her eyes focused on Katharine, who met her gaze and returned it. A shudder passed through her.

“How dare you!” Katharine whispered, hardly able to talk with the plastic tube in her mouth.

Cindy’s heart began to pound. She pulled her hand from Katharine’s and wiped her sweating palms on her skirt. Her stomach felt weightless.

She stared at Katharine but said nothing. A little voice in her head told her to pull the plugs from the wall outlet, but she ignored it. She might be a lot of things, but she wasn’t a murderer.

Katharine began to move convulsively, and the machine showing her heart rate began to beep loudly and rapidly.

Fearing that her mere presence had thrown Katharine into cardiac arrest, Cindy darted from the room. She hadn’t intended on it happening this way. Her intentions were actually to comfort Carson. By her being there, it would’ve proven to him how much she loves him. But now that Katharine saw her, she couldn’t possibly stay. If she’d made her presence known, she would be blamed for Katharine’s declining illness or even her death.

Around the corner, she spotted Carson halfway down the corridor, squatting against the wall, his face in his hands. The medical staff was too busy performing clerical duties at the central desk to notice when she crept from Katharine’s room. She cut out in the opposite direction.

* * *

“Carson,” Natalie cried, dashing through the automatic doors of the emergency ward.

Carson stood, his eyes dark with grief and despair. He draped his arms around Natalie, weeping against her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nat. I’m really sorry.”

“I know, Carson, and so does Kat,” she said, grieving with him. “Has anyone told you anything yet?”

“Nothing. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“No one’s spoken to you, told you anything at all?” she asked, fishing a tissue from her purse and wiping Carson’s eyes.

“Not a thing.”

Natalie tried to stuff the used tissue in his hand but he refused it.

He smiled weakly. “Thank you for coming.”

She lifted the corners of her mouth slightly. “I’m just glad you called,” she said, holding his hand. “How did Kat get here?”

“All I was told is that she was brought in by ambulance.”

“After I talked with you, I called Sadie and asked her to pick up CJ and Bethany from the after-school program.”

Carson appreciated Natalie being there, very much. He touched her shoulder as a way of saying
I’m so glad you’re here
. “Thank you, thank you,” he whispered.

A strikingly handsome stranger came down the hall with the doctor, and Carson freed himself from Natalie’s grasp. “I‘m Katharine O’Connor’s husband,” he said. “How is she? How’s my wife?”

“You’re her—” the doctor said, breaking off and turning to the unknown man. “Well, I thought you—since you’re the one who brought her in—”

“Uh, no, the man admitted glumly. “I’m a friend of Mrs. O’Connor.

“I don’t understand,” Carson said. “Do you work with Kat?”

The other man didn’t respond.

The doctor sighed, taking in the two of them with sharp, intelligent eyes. “They’re moving Mrs. O’Connor now,” he said to Carson. “I suggest you go home, try to get some sleep and come back later this afternoon. Give her a chance to—”

“Moving her where?” Carson interrupted.

“Upstairs,” the doctor said.

Carson studied the other man’s face for a few seconds, his expression puzzled but not antagonistic. Then he turned to the doctor. “I insist on seeing my wife,” he said firmly.

“Carson! Natalie!” Stephen called from down the hall. He was hurrying toward them, almost running.

“I paged Stephen and left a message with his secretary that Kat had been admitted,” Natalie told Carson. Then she rushed to embrace her husband. “Stephen!”

“It’ll be all right,” Stephen said, holding her close for a moment and then pulling away to greet the men. He acknowledged Carson and Dr. Davis. He looked at the man standing close by. “And—”

“Freeman.” He reached out to shake Stephen’s hand. “Walt Freeman.”

“Dr. Stephen Harper,” Stephen returned, just as a nurse rushed into the waiting room. “Mr. O’Connor,” she said, addressing Freeman. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll direct you to Admissions to complete the intake forms.”

“
I’m
Mr. O’Connor,” Carson said angrily.

“Very well,” the nurse returned calmly. “Come with me.”

* * *

Carson followed the nurse’s rapid footsteps down the corridor into a private room. The specialist was waiting inside. He introduced himself as Dr. Lewis, neurologist.

“Please, Mr. O’Connor. Have a seat.”

“Wha-what is it?”

“Please have a seat,” the doctor repeated. “I need to explain something to you.”

Carson sat on the edge of the padded chair, alternating his stare between the doctor and the nurse. “What’s wrong?” his nervous words shook. “Is my wife going to be all right?” Clearly, he wasn’t here to sign forms.

The doctor took in a short breath. “Your wife went into convulsion. Her heart was distressed and she had a stroke.”

His words rang in Carson’s ears like thunder. “Stroke? Is my wife dead?”

“Oh no, no. Nothing like that. She’s been moved to intensive care. We have her stabilized.”

Carson sighed with relief. “Thank Heaven.” He wiped a teardrop from the corner of his eye with his finger. “But the other doctor just said—”

The doctor’s voice was soft and soothing. “The stroke occurred after Dr. Davis left your wife’s room to check on another patient. We’re not sure what caused the seizure, but as soon as the test results come in, we’ll inform you.” Without waiting for a response, he added, “We’re hoping to prevent neurological emergencies and cardiac arrest, so we’re keeping a tight watch on her blood pressure. Just so you’ll know, she’s not out of danger yet. We can’t promise anything, but we’ll do our best.”

After explaining why Katharine had been admitted in the first place, the physician shook Carson’s hand, and Carson returned to the waiting room.

He looked at Natalie and Stephen helplessly. “Dr. Lewis told me to go home and get some sleep, the same thing Dr. Davis said earlier. Why do they think people can simply go to sleep when the worst things happen?”

“Worst?” Natalie stood solid. “What happened?”

“Kat had a stroke.”

“A stroke?” Stephen repeated.

Carson rubbed the back of his neck to relieve the mounting tension. “Yeah. A minor one, thank God. But she’s fine now. They’re running tests, and they’ll let me know the full score as soon as they get them back.”

“I’ll take a look at her chart to see what’s going on,” Stephen offered. “But her primary care physician will probably not be receptive to my interfering.” Stephen squeezed Carson’s shoulder. “Kat’s in good hands, both spiritually and medically,” he said.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Carson returned. “Dr. Lewis said she could go into a coma or cardiac arrest.”

Natalie hugged him tightly. “Everything’s going to be all right. Kat’s going to be just fine. She’s a trooper.” She pulled back to remind him that she would be there for him and Katharine no matter what.

“The doctor said they’re going to have to remove her implants immediately, that it may be the underlying cause of her problem.”

Natalie made a tisking sound and shook her head grievously. “I knew she shouldn’t have gotten those things.” She said it more to herself, but Carson heard her clearly.

Freeman stood silently, looking from Carson to the floor and back again. Several times, he’d opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it again.

Carson looked at him. “What’s your name again?” He was sure he’d seen his face somewhere recently.

“Freeman.”

“W. Freeman?” Carson frowned.

Freeman’s eyes met his in a silent answer.

“That’s what I thought,” Carson sneered.
What’s he doing here?
he thought.
Probably trying to get a scoop for the next edition to tell more lies
.

Carson’s long-dormant temper exploded like the Kilauea Volcano in the Hawaiian Islands. He punched Freeman in the stomach and then caught his jaw with an uppercut. Freeman fell backward, toppling over Natalie and crashing into a row of chairs. His lip was gashed and bleeding.

Clambering to his feet, he charged Carson. Freeman outweighed him by about ten pounds, but Carson had the advantage of outrage. He tackled Freeman, sending him crashing to the floor. The two men rolled over, scattering the people in the waiting room, hitting each other with a ferocity that made the spectators wince and gasp. Natalie watched with wide-eyed excitement and fear.

“Carson!” Stephen’s voice carried all the authority of his rank as the hospital’s assistant chief oncologist and his status as Carson’s good friend.

Straining every muscle, Freeman broke Carson’s hold, pushed him away, and got to his feet, wiping his bloody mouth with his sleeve.

Grabbing Freeman’s shoulder, Carson jerked him around, but not quickly enough to strike a blow. Freeman’s right fist connected with Carson’s chin, hard. Carson fell backward into the arms of a surprised Stephen. Freeman crossed the room to the exit doors as the spectators watched him in silence.

Stephen pulled Carson away from the audience, his arm around Carson’s shoulders.

“Cars, what’s going on, man? You have to get hold of yourself and preserve your Christian character. What hap—”

Carson shoved Stephen away. “Back off, man. You don’t know what’s going on here,” he snapped. He looked around for Freeman, who was no longer in the room. “I’ll be back,” he said backing away. “Keep an eye on Kat. I gotta go find that jerk.” He brushed past Natalie and rushed toward the glass doors leading to the exit.

He heard Stephen yelling, “Carson!” But it was too late. Nothing and nobody could stop him.

* * *

He patched up his face and knuckles. His stomach growled, so he fixed a quick sandwich and ate it without tasting a bite. The fight with Freeman troubled his conscience, so he retreated to their bedroom, got down on his knees on Katharine’s side of the bed, and asked God for forgiveness.

Interceding on behalf of his wife, he also prayed for guidance. If he’d caught up with Freeman, there was no telling what would’ve happened, but thank God the Spirit had intervened and returned him to the stillness of peace.

Stephen was right. He should’ve controlled his temper, but everything had poured down on him all at once like an unexpected hailstorm, hard and painful.

But now that he could put a face with the name, he’d get Freeman to retract the article, no question.