Authors: Lisa Jackson
Beach Season (40 page)
“Come on, Jake,” she whispered to herself, watching the clock as the second hand swept around the face, the minutes ticking by so slowly the waiting had become excruciating. She eavesdropped, listening to the conversations buzzing around her, dreading to overhear that Parker was dead, hoping to hear that his injuries were only superficial. But nothing was said.
Please, let him be all right! Please.
Somehow she finished her coffee and was shredding her cup when Jake pushed open the door and headed straight for her. Another young man was with him—tall and lean, with bushy salt and pepper hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a sober expression. “Dr. McGuire?” he asked.
Bracing herself for the worst, Shawna met the young man’s eyes.
“This is Tom Handleman, Shawna. He was just in ER with Parker,” Jake explained.
“And?” she asked softly, her hands balling into fists.
“And he’ll live,” Tom said. “He was pinned in the car a long time, but his injuries weren’t as bad as we’d expected.”
“Thank God,” she breathed, her voice breaking as relief drove aside her fears.
“He has several cracked ribs, a ruptured spleen, a concussion and a fractured patella, including torn cartilage and ripped ligaments. Besides which, there are facial lacerations and contusions—”
“And you don’t think that’s serious!” she cut in, the blood draining from her face.
Jake met her worried eyes. “Shawna, please, listen to him.”
“I didn’t say his condition wasn’t serious,” Tom replied. “But Mr. Harrison’s injuries are no longer life-threatening.”
“Concussion,” she repeated, “ruptured spleen—”
“Right, but we’ve controlled the hemorrhaging and his condition has stabilized. As I said, his concussion wasn’t as bad as Lowery and I had originally thought.”
“No brain damage?” she asked.
“Not that we can tell. But he’ll have to have knee surgery as soon as his body’s well enough for the additional trauma.”
She ran a shaking hand over her forehead.
Parker was going to be all right!
She felt weak with relief. “Can I see him?”
Parker was going to be all right!
She felt weak with relief. “Can I see him?”
“Not yet. He’s still in recovery,” Tom said quietly. “But in a few hours, once he’s conscious again—then you can see him.”
“Was he conscious when he was brought in?”
“No.” Dr. Handleman shook his head. “But we expect him to wake up as soon as the anesthetic wears off.”
Jake placed his hand on Shawna’s shoulder. “There’s something else,” he said quietly.
His grim expression and the fingers gripping her shoulder warned her. For the first time, she thought about the other man in Parker’s car. “Brad?” she whispered, knowing for certain that Parker’s star pupil and friend was dead.
“Brad Lomax was DOA,” Tom said softly.
“Dead on arrival?” she repeated, the joy she’d felt so fleetingly stripped away.
“He was thrown from the car and his neck was broken.”
“No!” she cried.
Jake’s fingers tightened over her shoulders as she tried to stand and deny everything Tom was saying. She could see heads swing in her direction, eyes widen in interest as doctors at nearby tables heard her protest.
“I’m sorry,” Tom said. “There was nothing we could do.”
“But he was only twenty-two!”
“Shawna—” Jake’s fingers relaxed.
Tears flooded her eyes. “I don’t believe it!”
“You’re a doctor, Miss McGuire,” Tom pointed out, his eyes softening with sympathy. “You know as well as I do that these things happen. Not fair, I know, but just the way it is.”
Sniffing back her tears, Shawna pushed Jake’s restraining hands from her shoulders. Still grieving deep in her heart, she forced her professionalism to surface. “Thank you, Doctor,” she murmured, extending her hand though part of her wanted to crumple into a miserable heap. As a doctor, she was used to dealing with death, but it was never easy, especially at a time like this, when the person who had lost his life was someone she’d known, someone Parker had loved.
Tom shook her hand. “I’ll let you know when Mr. Harrison is awake and in his room. Why don’t you go and rest for a couple of hours?”
“No—I, uh, I couldn’t,” she said.
“Your choice. Whatever I can do to help,” he replied before turning and leaving the room.
“Oh, Jake,” she said, feeling the security of her brother’s arm wrap around her as he led her from the lounge. “I just can’t believe that Brad’s gone—”
“It’s hard, I know, but you’ve got to listen to me,” he urged, handing her the nylon suitcase he’d picked up and helping her to the elevator. “What you’ll have to do now is be strong, for Parker. When he wakes up and finds out that Brad is dead, he’s going to feel guilty as hell—”
“But it wasn’t his fault. It couldn’t have been.”
“I know,” he whispered. “But Parker won’t see the accident that way—not at first. The trauma of the accident combined with an overwhelming sense of guilt over Brad’s death might be devastating for Parker. It would be for anyone.” He squeezed her and offered a tight smile. “You’ll have to be his rock, someone he can hold on to, and it won’t be easy.”
She met his gaze and determination shone in her eyes. “I’ll do everything I can for him,” she promised.
One side of Jake’s mouth lifted upward. “I know it, sis.”
“The only thing that matters is that Parker gets well.”
“And the two of you get married.”
Her fingers clenched around the handle of her suitcase and she shook a wayward strand of hair from her eyes. “That’s not even important right now,” she said, steadfastly pushing all thoughts of her future with Parker aside. “I just have to see that he gets through this. And I will. No matter what!”
The next four hours were torture. She walked the halls of the hospital, trying to get rid of the nervous tension that twisted her stomach and made her glance at the clock every five minutes.
Jake had gone back to the church to explain what had happened to the guests and her parents, but she’d refused to give up her vigil.
“Dr. McGuire?”
Turning, she saw Dr. Handleman walking briskly to her.
“What’s happened?” she asked. “I thought Parker was supposed to be put in a private room two hours ago.”
“I know,” he agreed, his face drawn, “but things changed. Unfortunately, Mr. Harrison hasn’t regained consciousness. We’ve done tests, the anesthesia has worn off, but he’s still asleep.”
Dread climbed up her spine. “Meaning?”
“Probably that he’ll come to in the next twenty-four hours.”
“And if he doesn’t?” she asked, already knowing the answer, panic sending her heart slamming against her rib cage.
“Then we’ll just have to wait.”
“You’re saying he’s in a coma.”
Tom pushed his glasses up his nose and frowned. “It looks that way.”
“How long?”
“We can’t guess.”
“How long?” she repeated, jaw clenched, fear taking hold of her.
“Come on,
Dr.
McGuire, you understand what I’m talking about,” he reminded her as gently as possible. “There’s no way of knowing. Maybe just a few hours—”
Dr.
McGuire, you understand what I’m talking about,” he reminded her as gently as possible. “There’s no way of knowing. Maybe just a few hours—”
“But maybe indefinitely,” she finished, biting back the urge to scream.
“That’s unlikely.”
“But not out of the question.”
He forced a tired smile. “Prolonged coma, especially after a particularly traumatic experience, is always a possibility.”
“What about his knee?”
“It’ll wait, but not too long. We can’t let the bones start to knit improperly, otherwise we might have more problems than we already do.”
“He’s a tennis pro,” she whispered.
“We’ll take care of him,” he said. “Now, if you want, you can see him. He’s in room four-twelve.”
“Thank you.” Without a backward glance, she hurried to the elevator, hoping to stamp down the panic that tore at her. On the fourth floor, she strode briskly down the corridor, past rattling gurneys, clattering food trays, and the soft conversation of the nurses at their station as she made her way to Parker’s room.
“Excuse me, miss,” one nurse said as Shawna reached the door to room four-twelve. “But Mr. Harrison isn’t allowed any visitors.”
Shawna faced the younger woman and squared her shoulders, hoping to sound more authoritative than she felt. “I’m Dr. McGuire. I work at Columbia Memorial Hospital. Mr. Harrison is my patient and Dr. Handleman said I could wait for the patient to regain consciousness.”
“It’s all right,” another nurse said. “I took the call from Dr. Handleman. Dr. McGuire has all privileges of a visiting physician.”
“Thank you,” Shawna said, entering the darkened room and seeing Parker’s inert form on the bed. Draped in crisp, white sheets, lying flat on his back, with an IV tube running from his arm and a swath of bandages over his head, he was barely recognizable. “Oh, Parker,” she whispered, throat clogged, eyes suddenly burning.
She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, saw the washed-out color of his skin, the small cuts over his face, noticed the bandages surrounding his chest and kneecap, and she wondered if he’d ever be the same, wonderful man she’d known. “I love you,” she vowed, twining her fingers in his.
Thinking of the day before, the hot sultry air, the brass ring, and the Gypsy woman’s grim fortune, she closed her eyes.
You love him too much—you will lose him,
the fortune-teller had predicted.
the fortune-teller had predicted.
“Never,” Shawna declared. Shivering, she took a chair near the bed, whispering words of endearment and telling herself that she would do everything in her power as a doctor and a woman to make him well.
C
HAPTER
3
HAPTER
3
A breakfast cart rattled past the doorway and Shawna started, her eyelids flying open. She’d spent all day and night at Parker’s bedside, watching, waiting, and praying.
Now, as she rubbed the kinks from her neck and stretched her aching shoulder muscles, she looked down at Parker’s motionless form, hardly believing that their life together had changed so drastically.
“Come on, Parker,” she whispered, running gentle fingers across his forehead, silently hoping that his eyelids would flutter open. “You can do it.”
A quiet cough caught her attention and she looked up to the doorway, where her brother lounged against the door frame. “How’s it going?” Jake asked.
She lifted a shoulder. “About the same.”
He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “How about if I buy you a cup of coffee?”
Shaking her head, Shawna glanced back at Parker. “I don’t think I could—”
“Have you eaten anything since you’ve been here?”
“No, but—”
“That’s right, no buts about it. I’m buying you breakfast. You’re not doing Parker any good by starving yourself, are you, Doctor?”
“All right.” Climbing reluctantly to her feet, she stretched again as she twisted open the blinds. The morning rays of late summer sun glimmered on the puddles outside. Deep in her heart, Shawna hoped the sunlight would wake Parker. She glanced back at him, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, noticed the bandage partially covering his head. But he didn’t move.
“Come on,” Jake said softly.
Without protest, she left the room. As she walked with Jake to the cafeteria, she was oblivious to the hospital routine: the nurses and orderlies carrying medication, the incessant pages from the intercom echoing down the corridors, the charts and files, and the ringing phones that normally sounded so familiar.
Jake pushed open the double doors to the dining room. Trays and silverware were clattering, and the smell of frying bacon, sizzling sausages, maple syrup, and coffee filled the air. Despite her despondency, Shawna’s stomach grumbled and she let Jake buy her a platter of eggs, bacon, and toast.
Taking a seat at a scarred Formica table, she sat across from her brother and tried to eat. But she couldn’t help overhearing the gossip filtering her way. Two nurses at a nearby table were speaking in a loud whisper and Shawna could barely concentrate on her breakfast.
“It’s a shame, really,” a heavyset nurse was saying, clucking her tongue. “Parker Harrison of all people! You know, I used to watch his matches on TV.”
“You and the rest of the country,” her companion agreed.
Shawna’s hands began to shake.
“And on his wedding day!” the first woman said. “And think about that boy and his family!”
“The boy?”
“Brad Lomax. DOA. There was nothing Lowery could do.”
Shawna felt every muscle in her body tense. She was chewing a piece of toast, but it stuck in her throat.
“That explains the reporters crowded around the front door,” the smaller woman replied.
“For sure. And that’s not all of it. His fiancée is here, too. From what I hear she’s a doctor over at Columbia Memorial. Been with him ever since the accident. She came charging over here in her wedding dress, demanding to see him.”
“Poor thing.”
Shawna dropped her fork and her fists curled in anger.
How dare they gossip about Parker!
How dare they gossip about Parker!
“Right. And now he’s comatose. No telling when he’ll wake up.”
“Or if.”
Shawna’s shoulders stiffened and she was about to say something, but Jake held up his hand and shook his head. “Don’t bother,” he suggested. “It’s just small talk.”
“About Parker and me!”
“He’s a famous guy. So was Brad Lomax. Loosen up, Shawna, you’ve heard hospital gossip before.”
“Not about Parker,” she muttered, her appetite waning again as she managed to control her temper. The two nurses carried their trays back to the counter and Shawna tried to relax. Of course Parker’s accident had created a stir and people were only people. Jake was right. She had to expect curiosity and rumors.
“I know this is hard. But it’s not going to get much better, at least for a while.” He finished his stack of pancakes and pushed his plate to one side. “You may as well know that the reporters have already started calling. There were several recordings on your phone machine this morning.”
“You were at my apartment?”
“I took back your bag and I gave the wedding dress to Mom. She’s going to have it cleaned, but isn’t sure that it will look the same.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Shawna said. She wondered if she’d ever wear the gown again. “How’re Mom and Dad?”
“They’re worried about you and Parker.”
“I’ll bet,” she whispered, grateful for her parents and their strength. Whereas Parker was strong because he’d grown up alone, never knowing his parents, Shawna had gotten her strength from the support and security of her family.
“Mom’s decided to keep a low profile.”
“And Dad?”
“He wants to tear down the walls of this hospital.”
“It figures.”
“But Mom has convinced him that if you need them, you’ll call.”
“Or you’ll tell them, if I don’t,” Shawna guessed.
Smiling slightly, he said. “They’re just trying to give you some space—but you might want to call them.”
“I will. Later. After Parker wakes up.”
Jake raised one brow skeptically, but if he had any doubts, he kept them to himself. “Okay, I’ll give them the message.”
She quit pretending interest in her food and picked up her tray. She’d been away from Parker for nearly half an hour and she had to get back.
“There’s something you should remember,” Jake said as they made their way through the tightly packed Formica tables, setting their trays on the counter.
“And what’s that?”
“When you leave the hospital, you might want to go out a back entrance, unless you’re up to answering a lot of personal questions from reporters.”
“I understand. Thanks for the warning.”
She turned toward the elevator, but Jake caught her elbow.
“There is one other thing. Brad Lomax’s funeral is the day after tomorrow. Mom already arranged to send a spray of flowers from you and Parker.”
Shawna winced at the mention of Brad’s name. His death was still difficult to accept. And then there was the matter of Parker and how he would feel when he found out what had happened to his protégé. “Mom’s an angel,” Shawna decided, “but I think I’d better put in an appearance.”
“The funeral’s for family only,” Jake told her. “Don’t think about it.”
Relieved, Shawna said, “I’ll try not to. I’ll see you later.” Waving, she dashed to the stairwell, unable to wait for the elevator. She had to get back to Parker and make sure she was the one who broke the news.
Parker felt as if his head would explode. Slowly he opened an eye, ignoring the pain that shot through his brain. He tried to lift a hand to his head, but his cramped muscles wouldn’t move and his struggling fingers felt nothing save cold metal bars.
Where am I?
he wondered, trying to focus. There was a bad taste in his mouth and pain ripped up one side of his body and down the other. His throat worked, but no sound escaped.
he wondered, trying to focus. There was a bad taste in his mouth and pain ripped up one side of his body and down the other. His throat worked, but no sound escaped.
“He’s waking up!” a woman whispered, her voice heavy with relief. The voice was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “Call Dr. Handleman or Dr. Lowery! Tell them Parker Harrison is waking up!”
What the hell for? And who are Lowery and Handleman? Doctors? Is that what she said?
“Parker? Can you hear me? Parker, love?”
He blinked rapidly, focusing on the face pressed close to his. It was a beautiful face, with even features, pink-tinged cheeks, and worried green eyes. Long, slightly wavy honey-colored hair fell over her shoulders to brush against his neck.
“Oh, God, I’m so glad you’re awake,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. Tears starred her lashes and for the first time he noticed the small lines of strain near her mouth and the hollows of her cheeks.
She’s crying!
This beautiful young woman was actually shedding tears. He was amazed as he watched her tears drizzle down her cheeks and one by one drop onto the bedsheets. She was crying for him! But why?
This beautiful young woman was actually shedding tears. He was amazed as he watched her tears drizzle down her cheeks and one by one drop onto the bedsheets. She was crying for him! But why?
Her hands were on his shoulders and she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Her tenderness seemed right, somehow, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. “I’ve been so worried! It’s been three days! Thank God, you’re back!”
His gaze darted around the small room, to the television, the rails on the bed, the dripping IV hanging over his head, and the baskets and baskets of flowers sitting on every available space in the room. It slowly dawned on him that he was in a hospital. The pain in his head wasn’t imagined, this wasn’t all a bad dream. Somehow he’d landed in a hospital bed, completely immobilized!
“Good morning, Mr. Harrison!” a gruff male voice called.
The woman straightened and quickly brushed aside her tears.
Shifting his gaze, Parker saw a man he didn’t recognize walk up to the bed and smile down at him. A doctor. Dressed in a white lab coat, with an identification tag that Parker couldn’t make out, the man stared down at Parker from behind thick, wire-framed glasses. Taking Parker’s wrist in one hand, he glanced at his watch. “I’m Dr. Handleman. You’re a patient here in Mercy Hospital and have been for the past three days.”
Three days? What in God’s name was this man talking about?
Partial images, horrible and vague, teased his mind, though he couldn’t remember what they meant.
Partial images, horrible and vague, teased his mind, though he couldn’t remember what they meant.
Drawing his brows together in concentration, Parker tried to think, strained to remember, but his entire life was a blur of disjointed pieces that were colorless and dreamlike. He had absolutely no idea who these people were or why he was here.
“You’re a very lucky man,” the doctor continued, releasing his wrist. “Not many people could have survived that accident.”
Parker blinked, trying to find his voice. “Accident?” he rasped, the sound of his own voice unfamiliar and raw.
“You don’t remember?” The doctor’s expression clouded.
“Wh-what am I doing here?” Parker whispered hoarsely. His eyes traveled past the doctor to the woman. She was leaning against the wall, as if for support. Wearing a white lab coat and a stethoscope, she had to be a member of the staff.
So why the tears?
“Who are you?” he asked, his bruised face clouding as he tried to concentrate. He heard her muted protest and saw the slump of her shoulders. “Do I know you?”
So why the tears?
“Who are you?” he asked, his bruised face clouding as he tried to concentrate. He heard her muted protest and saw the slump of her shoulders. “Do I know you?”
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