A Man She Couldn’t Forget (11 page)

“BP 170 over 96.” The female attendant looked up at Brady because his mother was semiconscious. “Has it always been this high?”

“I don’t think so. C-could it be a stroke?”

“I don’t know, sir.” Her voice was kind. “You said you found her clutching her chest, so the attack could be heart-related.”

He groaned and felt Clare’s hand on his back. “There’s help here,” she said. “She’s getting good care.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he thought briefly of how he’d been taking care of this woman for a month. Now she was the strong one, more like her old self before the amnesia.

The attendant added, “It’s good that you called the ambulance within minutes of the attack.”

That, too, had been Clare’s doing. When they’d burst into the living room and found his mother collapsed on the floor in front of the bookshelf full of photo albums, Brady had frozen. Clare had called 9-1-1, drawn him back when the ambulance came and badgered their way into riding with his mother.

It seemed an eternity before they arrived at Memorial Hospital where, ironically, his mother worked. At the emergency entrance, the sirens stopped abruptly, and Brady and Clare bounded out of the ambulance. The crew got his mother out and wheeled her inside.

“Go on over to the desk, Mr. Langston,” the attendant said kindly. “You’ll need to fill out forms.”

Immobilized, Brady stared at the doors to the E.R. treatment area as they closed.

Clare linked her arm with his. “Come on, Brade, let’s do what the attendant said.”

She escorted him to the desk. A nurse turned around. “Hey, Brady, hi.”

Brady frowned. “I’m sorry I…”

“Janice Carson. I’ve worked with your mom for years.” She reached over and squeezed his arm. “I promise she’ll receive the best attention. We all adore her. And I’ll get word to you as quickly as I can.”

Feeling as if he were in a dream, Brady just stood there.

Janice held up a clipboard. “Can you fill these out now?”

When Brady didn’t take the forms, Clare did. “Yes, we’ll be over there.” She led him to the sitting area where cushioned double-seaters faced each other.

Brady dropped down beside her on one. “I…I’ll do that.”

“No, I will. I’ll just ask you questions.”

“I don’t know stuff. Her insurance…”

Clare held up a black bag he recognized as his mother’s purse. “It was in the foyer on a table. I grabbed it as we left.”

Dazed, Brady stared at his mother’s bag and felt moisture well in his eyes. “When I was little and jealous of the most recent addition to our family, Mom would send me to get something in her purse and I’d find candy or gum or some other surprise there.” He swallowed hard. “She put them there just for me so I’d know how special I was to her.”

“That sounds like Lillian.”

“Clare, I…I’m not sure I can do this.” He gestured to the hospital. “All of this. What if something happens to her? Like my dad?”

“It’s hard waiting. But let’s not borrow trouble.”

She began filling out the forms, and answering the questions distracted him. There was still no word when they finished. Clare tried to reassure him. “It’s only been twenty minutes.”

“Should I call my sisters and brothers?”

“It might be best to wait until we have some news.”

“You’re probably right.” He rose and walked to the window. He was staring out at the busy city street when he felt her come up behind him. She slid her arms around him from the back but said nothing. Her embrace felt good, made him stronger. Then she came to his side, linked their arms and stared outdoors with him. Rockford motorists and pedestrians were following their normal routines while Brady’s life was falling apart.

“She’s always been so strong. So
there
for all of us. When Dad died, she was everybody’s rock. Mine especially, because I fell apart.”

“It’s all right to fall apart. You love your mother. Showing fear is okay.” She laid her head against his shoulder. “I think you told me that once.”

They continued the vigil for twenty more minutes and then the desk nurse, Janice, approached them. “Brady, Dr. Nichols is coming out…here he is now.”

A tall, dark-haired man in blue scrubs came up to them. Brady had met him once. “Brady.” The doctor’s face was lined with concern.

Brady grabbed for Clare’s hand.

“We’re pretty sure Lillian has had a heart attack. We’re going to prep her for an angiogram now.”

“Don’t you need to do tests? Check the blood enzymes?” Max’s father had had a heart attack and Brady knew the procedure.

“We ran one, but we’re not waiting for the results of a second. She’s got the classic symptoms. And I don’t want to waste any time.”

“Oh my God.”

Dr. Nichols’s gaze was sympathetic. “We’ve got the best cardio team in the city. And we all care about your mother. Everyone’s dropping everything to do this.”

“Thank you,” Clare said when Brady didn’t speak.

“You’ll need to sign consent forms, since you’re listed as power of attorney.”

“I—I will. Dr. Nichols, tell me the truth. It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s serious, hence the way we’re proceeding. I’ll be back out once we do the angiogram.”

Brady turned to Clare after he left. “I can’t believe it.”

“Heart surgery is so advanced today. A guy at the station had quintuple bypass and is playing golf, doing everything he did before.”

“It’s my
mother.
”

“I know.” She fished in her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “I think you need to call your brothers and sisters.”

“I do? I
do?
”

“Yes, Brady, you do.”

The tears slipped down his cheeks. The next thing he knew, he was in Clare’s arms, crying like a baby.

T
HE NEWS OF THE NEED
for double bypass surgery for Lillian Langston came after Juliana, Samantha and Sloan—who had driven from two hours away—had all arrived at the hospital. Once again, Brady took the verdict the worst. And once again, he turned to Clare, and not his sisters or brothers, to console him.

They were in a smaller, more private waiting area, and Brady sat staring at the floor, gripping Clare’s hand so hard it hurt. The surgery had begun at 8:00 p.m. and it was nine now.

“Hey,” Sloan said, coming over to his brother. The boys looked alike with the same dark hair, blue eyes and even the same square-cut jaw. “You okay, buddy?”

Brady looked up at his younger brother and the expression in his eyes was so bleak it broke Clare’s heart. “No. Sorry I’m such a wimp.”

“You were always the worst,” Juliana, Samantha’s twin, commented. She was sitting on the other side of Brady and slid her arm around his shoulders. She and Sam were identical, though they’d cut their dark hair differently, and Juliana was a bit more slender. “Remember when Mom had her appendix out? Dad had to let you sleep with him.”

“I never lived that down,” Brady said, trying to joke. He drew in a breath. “I don’t…” He turned to Clare and rested his forehead on her shoulder.

Clare clasped his neck. From over his shoulders, she saw the siblings exchange glances. So what? Maybe she hadn’t been here for Brady before, but she was here now.

Her phone vibrated. She’d been trying to reach Max, who was off on another trip, and Delia, who’d gone to join Donny at his grandparents’ house. She drew her phone out and, against hospital rules, answered it.

“Clare, I’ve been calling you all day.” Jonathan’s tone was impatient, irritated. But Clare recognized the fear in his voice, too.

“Is it Max or Delia?” Brady asked.

Into the phone, she said, “Just a sec.” To Brady, “No. I’m going to step out in the hall and take this.”

Panic filled Brady’s face. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t. I promise. I’ll be in the hall, away from the nurses.”

Sam took her place and Clare went into a private alcove where she wouldn’t be seen by the phone police. “Jonathan, I’m back.”

“Honey, where are you? You’ve been out of reach all day. Didn’t you get my messages?”

“I did. I’m sorry. I’ve been at the hospital since this morning.”

“Oh, Lord. Did something happen to you? Why didn’t you call me?”

“No, it’s not me. It’s Brady’s mother.” She explained the situation.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” A very long pause. “So you’ve been there all day? And rode in the ambulance?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t I come and get you? You must be exhausted. You’re not fully recovered, you know.”

A spurt of anger shot through her. How could he possibly suggest she abandon Brady at a time like this? “I can’t leave, Jonathan.”

There was another long pause on his end, then he asked, “Are the Langston sisters and brothers there?”

“All but Peter. He’s flying in from the west coast.”

“Well, there you go.”

“Jonathan, I have no intention of leaving the hospital. Lillian’s still in surgery. And Max and Delia aren’t in town.”

Another pause. “I’m sorry if I sound insensitive. But I’ve got great news. The Cooking Channel has agreed to see us tomorrow at four. They’ve had a cancellation, and we got the time slot. I want you rested for that.”

She struggled to control her temper. She hadn’t agreed to pursue the syndication of the show, had told Jonathan how wary she was of starting something new with huge gaps in her memory. He said she just didn’t remember how important this was to her, but hell, even taping her show was foreign to her. She wasn’t ready to pursue her career even further. And she resented him for pushing her too hard.

“You’ll have to reschedule. I can’t go.”

“Lillian will be out of surgery in a few hours. They’ll know her prognosis then. Stay if you must, but we have to catch a plane tomorrow at noon.”

A nurse walked by her. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Cell phones aren’t allowed. I suspect you know…Oh, you’re with the Langstons?” Clare nodded. “Go ahead then, dear.” She continued walking.

“Jonathan, the nurse just came by and told me to get off my cell. I’ll call you when I know more.”

Before he could respond, she clicked off.

When she turned, she saw Brady behind her in the hallway. His face was completely devoid of color, and his whole body was as tense as a tree limb about to snap. A swell of sympathy, and something else very big and very powerful, filled her.

“Who was it?” he asked.

“Jonathan. He said to give you his best.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Do you want to go get coffee or something?”

“Should I?”

“I think that would be good.” She checked her watch. “It’ll be hours yet before the surgery is over.”

“A nurse came in while you were out here and said it’s going well. Mom’s stable and they haven’t found anything they weren’t expecting.”

“That’s wonderful. Come on, let’s go get coffee and maybe some food in your stomach. You need that, Brady.”

He grasped her hand. “I need you. Here. Promise me you’ll stay.”

Once again, so much emotion for this man filled her. “I’ll stay. I promise.”

Hand in hand, they found the elevator and took it to the cafeteria. She might not have her memory back, but one thing Clare knew for sure: she meant what she said. She was going to stay with Brady as long as he needed her.

A
T TEN THE NEXT MORNING
, carrying a suit Clarissa had left at his house, Jonathan entered Memorial Hospital and took the elevator to the cardiac waiting area. He’d spoken briefly to her earlier. She’d stayed all night with the Langstons, but thankfully, Lillian had come through the surgery and was in recovery, and her children had visited her in CCU. Now that all was well, Clarissa could go with him.

What he found in the waiting area made his throat tight. All of them were there—the Langston girls were asleep on couches, and the men were awake. Two were leafing through magazines, but Brady was staring down at Clarissa, who was sound asleep, with her head cradled on a pillow in his lap. His hand was absently stroking her hair. The small gesture made Jonathan angry and resurrected a jealousy buried deep inside him, but he tried not to let either emotion show because of the gravity of the situation.

“Hello,” one of the Langston brothers said when he spotted Jonathan. “Are you looking for someone?”

“Clarissa.”

Brady glanced up. His face was lined with fatigue and remnants of worry, and Jonathan felt bad for the guy. Though his own parents were still alive, he did remember how his grandfather had gone through heart bypass and how difficult the aftermath had been.

“Hi, Brady. I’m sorry to hear about your mother and glad she’s come through the surgery.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to get Clarissa. She’s got to change—” he held up the garment bag “—for our trip to New York.”

“Clare’s not going anywhere.”

“She said she’d stay until your mother was out of danger.” He tried to keep his tone gentle. On some level, he knew he was being selfish, but the prize was too big to let go of. “No new developments, right?”

“My mother’s doing okay. What’s in New York?”

“The Cooking Channel. They want to see Clarissa about picking up our show. You know how much she wants this.”

“I know how much
you
want it.”

Again, he curtailed his temper out of respect. Just then, Clarissa stirred. Jonathan watched as she came awake. She yawned, then looked up at Brady. A smile claimed her lips. Then a frown. “What? Brady, you look terrible. Did something happen while I was asleep?”

“
He
happened.”

Clarissa looked over at Jonathan, then sat up, raked back her hair and stood. She was a mess—her clothes, her hair, her makeup. “Jonathan, what are you doing here?”

“I came to get you. We can still make our plane to New York.” Again he held up the bag. “You said you’d come if everything went well.”

“You did?” Brady asked.

Clarissa looked at Jonathan. Then at Brady. She was deathly still, and Jonathan knew the choice she was about to make would tell him how everything else was going to go down.

B
RADY STARED OPENMOUTHED
as Clare exited the room with Harris. He couldn’t believe she’d leave him now. Dropping down on the chair, he buried his face in his hands, feeling even more bereft than before.