The Heart's Shrapnel (24 page)

Getting dressed I head down to dinner. The table is set to the nines. Food is practically spilling off the sides there’s so much. I wonder if Hugo is expecting some company.

“Ms. Carter. Glad you were able to make it down. I was getting concerned that perhaps you had fallen ill.”

“Oh, no, I’ve just been busy. Plus, I talked to a friend earlier and she can talk your ear off if you give her the chance. I called Shelly as well.” Hugo smiles fondly at the mention of Shelly’s name though he tries to conceal it by turning his face.

Okay, something is up with that.

“Well, glad you could stop her long enough to eat. Please, sit.” Hugo pulls out my chair and I take my seat which is at the head of the table where he had set up my plate and silverware.

“Hugo, this all looks amazing.” I lean in to take a whiff. There are many different kinds of cheeses with crackers and grapes for the appetizers. There’s also what looks to be pot roast and fresh baked bread for the main dish. Dessert is some decadent looking cheesecake. Blueberry with lemon? I hope he doesn’t expect me to eat all of this myself. It’s as if the Queen was expected to visit. Maybe she is. Oh God! I’d die.

“Will others be dining with us tonight?”

He shoots me a strange look.

“Why would anyone be dining with us tonight? Have you invited someone over?”

“Um…” I continue to stare at the smorgasbord in front of me. “No.”

“Then, no, my dear. This is just for you. Your supper.” It’s my turn to look at him oddly. I’ve been here for two weeks and although the food has been exceptional, it hasn’t been quite like this. It’s clear to me he’s up to something; I suspect Hugo might be buttering me up for information. As Shelly instructed, I’ve kept a tight lip on the signs the Duke has been showing.

“Well, it looks delicious. My compliments to the chef.”

“Splendid. Well, if that is all, I can leave you to it,” he says, but he doesn’t make any attempt to leave as he stands there holding a tray.

I take pity on him and decide to tell him what’s been happening. “Will you join me? I wanted to give you an update on the Duke. I’m sure you’ll hear from Shelly soon enough, but I figured you would like to know now.”

“Yes?”

“Well, I don’t want you to get too excited, but I have been witnessing the Duke displaying signs of possibly regaining some consciousness.”

He almost drops the tray he’s holding at the news. “What? So, you’ve seen it too?”

“Yes, but it is too soon to get your hopes up. This could mean something, or it could mean absolutely nothing.”

Hugo sets his tray on the table and beelines it up to where I sit planting his hands on either side of my arms, something I’m sure is out of his normal character.

“Please, Ms. Carter. Tell me that you are not joking.”

Placing both of my hands upon his I try to reassure him. “I’m not joking.”

“Oh, this is wonderful news!” He stands back up and runs his fingers through his hair.

I beam at his enthusiasm. “Should I tell someone though—his cousin, maybe?” I don’t want to give him false hope either, but usually families want to know of any progress.

“Uh, no, that won’t be necessary. I will handle any outside communications. You just deal with the Duke and leave all of that to me.”

“Okay. Well, then.” He smiles as if he’s relieved. “In the meantime, I will keep a closer eye on him than normal. Any changes will be reported to you.”

“Thank you, Ms. Carter. I am most grateful for your devotion. The Duke of Warlington will be so honored when he learns that such a nice dear lady as yourself has been taking care of him. You are so good to him.”

“It’s my job,” I say blushing, looking idly down at my food.

“It was theirs too,” Hugo says pointedly as he leaves the room.

I finish up my meal. By finish, I mean I eat just what I had on my plate plus some cheesecake. The leftovers could be saved to eat off of for days. Usually Hugo is back by the time I finish, but he’s not here. Curious, I go in search for him. Heading to the kitchen, I find him putting on a pot of tea.

“Hugo.”

“Yes, Ms. Carter. Is something the matter?”

“Oh, goodness no. I just wanted to let you know that I was finished eating.”

“Certainly, I will have the table cleared immediately.”

I know it’s a kitchen, but it looks very inviting with its olive-green walls and dark cherry cabinets. And the countertops and island have a black, marble, high-gloss finish that accents it nicely. Not to mention, the equipment is top of the line. It’s heaven for those who love to cook—like me, for instance.

“I’d like to cook in here someday if I may.”

He shoots me another odd look.

“Why would you want to do that, my dear?” His eyes show bewilderment.

“I enjoy it. It makes me feel—content—happy.”

“Well, if that is true, then far be it from me to object. Just let me know so that I can inform the staff that their services won’t be needed. In fact…” He goes to the other side of the kitchen and opens a metal door where all sorts of dishes are stacked neatly. It must be where they keep the extra cookware. “Betty, would you come here a moment?”

Betty?

A woman with short, brown curly hair comes out. She’s portly, with light skin and deep red glasses. Her appearance puts me in mind of a grandmother.

“Yes, Hugo. What is it you need?” Her accent is not British. Russian?

Hugo gestures over to me. “This is the lovely young nurse that is here to take care of the Duke. She’s the one you’ve been cooking for these past two weeks.”

Betty gets a huge smile on her face and her eyes light up like saucer plates. “Oh!” She comes over to hug me catching me off guard. “It is nice to have a lady in the house. Don’t you agree, Hugo?” Hugo turns ten shades of red all in succession. I believe I do too.

He clears his throat. “Yes, it certainly is nice.”

“My name is Bohdana, but like Hugo say, you call me Betty.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” Thank goodness because I will never remember that.

“Oh, it has been so quiet in here these past couple months. No one to cook for.” Betty gestures with her hands which I’m starting to see she does a lot. She’s loud and over the top and I love it. I picture an older Italian woman, but with a Russian accent. That’s Betty.

“Now, now, Betty. You still cook for the staff,” Hugo gently corrects.

“Yes, but it not the same.” The teakettle goes off and Hugo removes it from the burner to steep while he carefully selects a teacup. “You know, one time, I was sick. Hugo made grilled sandwich.” I see Hugo actually roll his eyes and I try to refrain from laughing. “It no good—like eating brick between two shingles.”

“You ate it,” Hugo interjects.

Betty scoffs. “Yes, but it practically give me cancer of stomach.”

“Yes, well I’ve never claimed my forte is cooking. At any rate, Adalind would like to use the kitchen sometime to cook.”

“Yes, moya lyubov’. A woman in kitchen is good woman, indeed.”

“I’m going to read for a little and then retire for the night. Shall I pour you two ladies a cup of tea?” Hugo asks while pouring himself a cup.

We both decline and Hugo starts to leave. Before he does though, he and Betty exchange a knowing look. I wonder what it is about.

Once he is out of sight, she turns to me again, happy just as she was a minute ago.

“The Duke is in such wonderful hands.”

“I hope so. I’m doing all I can for him.”

“I am sure you are, moya lyubov’. I have been nothing less than overjoyed these past few weeks cooking for you. The Duke is a man who relishes his meals—a joy to cook for.”

I can’t help but feel giddy as she is telling me this. She’s the first person to speak of the Duke in present tense, without referencing his current condition. It’s giving me some insight as to who the Duke, rather than my patient, really is and I welcome the information. It’s a delight and refreshing to have someone else to talk to in this big place. I realize if I hadn’t been upstairs twenty-two hours a day, I might have met Betty sooner.

“Can he now?” I laugh.

“Oh yes. I’d cook for him many a time. I’d make him his favorite dish of Veal Orlov. He loved it so much, and would tell me so.” Betty then proceeds to tell me what is in it. Seems simple enough, and it does sound good.

Knowing his favorite dish, and hearing how un-complicated it is, warms me inside. It makes me realize just how human and regular he really is, though he’s not.

“Would you like to know a secret?” she says conspiringly.

“Um, sure?”

“You come over here.” I follow Betty around the kitchen island. Behind it, underneath, are rows of top-shelf liquor, glasses, and some serving dishes. She reaches in on the top right shelf all the way to the back, and pulls out a green Tupperware container. She sits it on top of the counter. “This is secret only the Duke and I know, but I share with you. Da?”

I don’t say anything for fear I’ll spook her away from telling me this. I feel like I know him so much more after these past two minutes with her than I did from the things Hugo has told me over the past two weeks. Yes, they aren’t big things, but they are little ones that make a person who they are. A portrait of a man rather than a patient or a Duke.

“You see, the king of this castle like cake, but not any cake.” She emphasizes her point holding up her index finger. “German chocolate cake. I know him since he was little boy with curly hair, always had sweet tooth. When I take over kitchen, I make him dessert whenever he want. Every night, around midnight, we meet here, I keep big piece of cake for us to share. Our little secret.”

I try to envision him sneaking down here at night, in his own house, to eat his favorite cake with his longtime family chef. Hearing this only makes me want to get to know him more, and I feel a twinge of sadness as I’m not at all certain that will happen.

Betty must sense where my thoughts are going. “He come out of it,” she states with certainty. “He a fighter and decent man. He get through anything.” I see tears form in her eyes and she looks away from me to wipe them off with her apron. “Well, anyway, when he wake up, his cake will be here and so will I.”

I don’t want to burst her bubble, but even if he did awake, he wouldn’t be able to walk down here to eat it. Betty puts the container back where she got it and turns to me.

“So, enough of that. You tell me when you want to use kitchen, and I leave you be.”

I thank her for the lovely meal she had made for me and head up to my room feeling pleasantly tired.

HUGO TAKES ME ON A thorough tour of the grounds today. It is more beautiful than I could have imagined. I haven’t been able to explore all that much beyond the garden out front because I’ve been sticking to Evan like glue.

On the way in, I remember the long, winding driveway meticulously lined with weeping willow trees as that seemed to embrace me in welcome. But, as it was nighttime I couldn’t fully enjoy the beauty of the grounds as I can now, in the full light of day.

Acres upon acres of land stretch over the horizon, and as we keep walking, we come across a huge pond populated by ducks who no doubt call this place home. I make a mental note to stop by and feed them some-day. Maybe this is something the Duke would do when he was out here.

Eventually, we find ourselves at the in-ground pool which looks like it stretches on for miles. A beautiful statue of a naked woman is placed in the center.

The landscaping is another thing to behold. The lavish array of plants and intricate gardens give the grounds an almost exotic look like what you would find at a fancy resort—not that I’ve been to one.

The actual castle, built of old stone, looks like it sprang up from the earth in ancient times. Green moss has taken up residency on the exterior walls. It’s in direct contrast with the modern addition that Hugo tells me that the Duke added on a few years back. Its design is exquisite with pillars and rounded archways. I feel like I’m in my own little fortress. Everything is beautiful.

I’m happy to note that Hugo’s mood has lifted considerably, and I suspect it has a lot to do with the news I gave him last night concerning the Duke in which Shelly wasn’t too thrilled about. It is a joy to witness him like this, though I still worry about him expecting too much; still if this makes him happy, then who am I to take that from him?

We’re becoming fast friends, which is not good. Evan hasn’t shown any additional improvement since yesterday, which was fleeting, and I’m afraid my time here might be running out. I’m a nurse, top in my field, and he could be competently monitored by someone far less qualified. They need me back in New York.

“How did you like Betty?”

I smile to myself, reflecting on our private chat about the Duke’s hearty appetite and passion for dessert.

“I love her, she’s so open. She seems like she’s devoted to the Duke.”

“We all are here. The Duke is a kind man, Ms. Carter. You will find this out soon enough.” He offers a smile and I shrink back a little. I want the Duke to wake up too. I can see how much his life has affected those around him. They miss him and want him back with them. But, I’m still not so sure that is going to happen and it would be unprofessional of me to encourage false hope.

“I can see that.” We walk on. My mood is heavier than before. I don’t want to rain on his parade, but he needs reminding that this arrangement isn’t a permanent one. “Hugo, you know when I arrived that I was only to be here a week if nothing had changed with the Duke.”

“Yes. And so much has changed since you’ve arrived. I can’t thank you enough for staying on. If you just bear with us a little longer, I’m sure everything—”

“I can’t guarantee anything, Hugo. Ultimately, it isn’t my decision to make and I have responsibilities back where I’m from. I’m sorry, but I can’t just stay here and twiddle my thumbs, Hugo, but I can help you locate someone to take over when I leave,” I offer sympathetically. Hugo looks like he wants to object, but doesn’t.

“I understand, Ms. Carter, although we have no wish for you to leave. In your time here, as I said before, there’s been more improvement with the Duke than all this time he’s been in that coma. So, for that, I thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The Duke’s cousin pops into my mind suddenly. “I know you said that William doesn’t have control anymore, but does he ever come to see the Duke?” I’m not sure why that still is bothering me, but it does. I can’t imagine why someone wouldn’t visit their comatose cousin from time to time.

“Oh, yes. He came at least once a week up until I hired you.” Hugo doesn’t continue further and I wonder if they had a disagreement over all of this. He sure doesn’t seem to like when I bring him up. Really, it’s none of my business. “I’m sure he will pop in soon though.”

I nod my head and continue to walk.

***

After checking on the Duke for the night, I head to my room exhausted. I bathe and curl up to read a book that I borrowed from the library. It was stories high, more books that anyone could read in a lifetime, and I plan on reading as much as I can before I have to leave.

I jolt awake from a horrible nightmare. They haven’t happened since I’ve been here, and so I wonder why now. Feeling uneasy, and knowing that I won’t be able to go back to sleep anytime soon, I go to check on the Duke. Grabbing my robe, I throw my hair up in a messy bun, not caring what I look like, and slowly open our adjoining door. Allowing a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light, I prepare to tiptoe into his bedroom but I’m stopped dead in my tracks. It can’t be.

The Duke of Warlington is rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He casts a confused look about the room. Unable to sit up, he lays there not saying anything, or even calling out for help. He doesn’t notice me yet.

Crap! What do I do?

I carefully tread over to his bed, not wanting to startle him.

“Duke?” I whisper. I’m not really sure the proper way to greet a Duke, but as my patient this will do for now.

He turns his head at the sound of my voice; his eyes meet mine in a bewildered state. From the crinkle in his brow, I assume he’s trying to figure out who I am and what I’m doing in his house…in pajamas, nonetheless. Now that I think about it, it’s probably not at all appropriate to walk around like this. I never would have done it in New York. But, I also don’t usually sleep next door to my patients and how was I to know that this would be the night he came out of his coma?

His eyes are a deep sea of blue. They are soft and bright and knowing—the kind of eyes that pierce through your soul. The rest of him suffers in comparison. His cheeks are a tad too hollow for his face. Even his skin has a slight gray hue. He’s all tubes and wires, running in and out of his nose. I want to yank them all out. I’m sure they are confusing the hell out of him.

For a second, I go to push the speaker button to alert Hugo, but decide against it. I want this moment. I want to be the one who eases him into this new reality of his. There are so many questions swirling in my head; I can’t even imagine how disconcerted he feels—and who or what he remembers.

I saunter around the bed. His eyes never leave mine. “Hello, Duke. I’m your nurse. I’ll be taking care of you for a while. I need to ask you some things, but first, let me get this feeding tube out of you. You won’t need this anymore and I think you’ll feel better with-out it.” I’m shaking inside like crazy, but I try to offer him a reassuring smile. Thankfully the nervousness doesn’t spread to my hands.

He closes his eyes as I retrieve the tube. Since I’m in my nightgown, this man is either really trusting, or he simply just wants freed from all of this medical bondage that he’s in.

The feeding tube reaches through his nose all the way down to his stomach, and I’m careful to not pull it out too fast or too slow.

“You are doing great,” I assure him. He gags a few times, and I wince at his discomfort as I successfully pull it out all the way. “Can you talk? Do you know who you are?” I keep my voice low.

The silence is thick before he answers. “Yes, I know who I am.” He struggles to lift his arms to rub his neck. His voice sounds dry and rough, but it’s got to be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard in my life. He’s awake.

There’s an empty glass and pitcher that I keep on his nightstand, although it was usually me that drank it while I read to him. Heading to the bathroom, I refill the pitcher and bring it over to fill up the glass and offer it to him. He doesn’t take it. Instead, he tries to reach over to pick up the newspaper. He is struggling to sit up, and I offer my help before I hand him what he seems to want so badly.

“You read this to me,” he states.

He was aware? He heard me reading to him. I wonder for how long?

I take a seat next to him on the bed. I’m staring, but I can’t help it. I didn’t expect him to really wake up. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“I wasn’t sure if that was a dream or not.” His eyes flit over to mine before he turns to the paper once more, his questioning eyes on one spot. Minutes go by until he finally looks up—uncertainty evident in his stare. “Is this a joke?”

“Is what a joke?”

“This.” He points to the date line.

“No. It’s not a joke. That’s today’s…well, technically, yesterday’s date.”

He drops the paper in his lap and carefully runs his hands over his tired face. He looks around the room, taking in all the details he doesn’t remember or recognize.

“I’ve been lying in this bed for over two months—almost three?”

The uncertainty he’s expressing is heart wrenching. I can’t believe I even considered leaving. I was so set on getting back to my job in New York that I hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate all that I actually was doing for him that was good—that would make him better. Now here he sits, and I thank God that I didn’t give up when I could have, or this might not even be happening right now. Perhaps I was being a little selfish.

“I’m afraid so. But now that you’re awake, we need to get you fully checked out.” I zero in on his other arm. His IV has come out. Getting up, I walk around the bed to his right arm and disinfect the needle for insertion. He peers up at me, studying me like I’m an anomaly. He’s so focused that he doesn’t even wince when I slide the IV back in. It’s unnerving how unscathed he is.

“Everything’s fine. You must have accidentally pulled it out when you were waking up.”

He blinks a few times, still trying to comprehend what is going on. “Must have.”

“Give me a second, please, while I grab the rest of my supplies.”

Once I’ve retrieved my medical bag, I reapply some gauze over the IV site and tape it up so it stays in place. “There, although I bet you can’t wait to eat actual food. I know Hugo will…”

“Hugo? Where is he?” He lightly grips my hand, the warmth of his palm sending shock waves through my body. Startled, I jump. “Sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He removes his hand and studies it.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I’m just not used to you being awake.” I clear my throat and try to smile. “Hugo’s in bed.”

“I must speak with him at once.” Evan tries unsuccessfully to rip the covers off his legs; I move to stop him but I am too late. He leans over and clutches his head with his hands when a wave of pain seemingly plows through him. “Aaaah! Shite!”

“Duke, listen to me. You have just awoken from a coma.” I place my hands on his shoulders to help calm him down. “I haven’t completely evaluated you yet. The last thing you need is to overwork yourself and risk the chance of seizing, which could lead to another coma, or worse. Do you understand? I won’t have it. Not on my watch.”

“Miss…” He grits his teeth. “You don’t understand, and I don’t mean that unkindly.”

“That might be so, but in this case, I’m your home health nurse. And I’m telling you that you need to rest. You have my full assurance that I will notify Hugo first thing in the morning.” Reaching into my bag, I rummage through it for some pain medication. “You need to get your strength back up. Here, take this.”

He hesitates as if unsure he should be taking anything from me. But, it’s only for a brief moment. He opens his mouth and I place the pills on the edge of his tongue and hand him the water that was sitting untouched from earlier.

“Why can I barely move my limbs? What’s wrong with me?”

“You’ve been lying in this bed for quite a while. Without exercise, your muscles atrophy. You’ll need therapy to regain some of your motor skills. You’ve lost a lot of muscle mass. Recovery will take time.”

He looks down at his upper body. His eyes stray to his arms. “Yes, I suppose I have. My head is fuzzy. What manner of spirits is this?” He grabs the pill bottle out of my hands, eyeing it like it’s poisoned wine, his cut-glass English accent sounding more slurred by the minute.

“It’s not alcohol. It’s meds to help calm your nerves. It will make you drowsy so that you can rest. You need to sleep.”

“Sleep? I’ve been asleep for over two months according to that paper that sits in front of you. Now, please, I need to speak with my butler.” I almost give in to his earnest plea. If I were him, I’d want to see a familiar face.

“I’ll call him, but I need to ask you some things before I do that, okay?”

He opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it.

“Some of these questions might seem silly to you, but I need to understand how much the coma has affected your memory and motor skills.”

“Okay,” he relents, his bottom lip sticking out slightly. I turn my face away from him, because I don’t want him to see me laughing at the sight of him sulking like a toddler. It’s comical, but also very adorable.

“Can you wiggle your toes?” I pull up the sheet a bit so we can see. Placing his hand on his leg, he tries to move his toes. There’s some movement which is great news. I focus on his eyes. He’s gazing intently at his uncovered feet as if willing them to action.