Whisper Privileges (35 page)

The static announcement intervened overhead.
“Events will resume in fifteen minutes.”

“C’mon.” Sam took her by the arm and pulled
her away from the pool. “I’ll drive you.”

“I can’t,” she stammered in protest, her
brain suffused with confusion. Work responsibilities slammed down
like a steel cage, trapping her in place. “I have to be here for
the events.”

Sam looked at her queerly.

“I’m working...” Slightly woozy, pressure
seeped from her skull.

“They won’t miss you, Syd. Trust me.”

She couldn’t get Q’s lifeless image out of
her mind. Was he alive? Was he—

“Charlie,” Sam called out.

He hurried over, Trish right behind him.

“Cover for Sydney while I drive her to the
hospital.”

He glanced at Trish, as though checking with
her first, but quickly turned back to Sam. He nodded. “Yeah, sure.
I’ll cover things around here.”

Trish looked at Sydney and for a moment, a
sliver of understanding passed between the two, as if she only now
did she realize Sydney was an important part of the equation. The
Rutledge equation.

Sam tossed a “thanks” to Charlie and then
said, “Let’s get out of here.” She pushed against Sydney’s back,
directing her toward the exit. Grateful for the strong arm and
clear-minded thinking, Sydney allowed herself to be commandeered
through the pool building and out the front door. She needed to be
with Clay and Q. Even if she didn’t know what she would do, she had
to be close to them.

Outside the emergency room the sun was hot,
the weathered wooden bench hard and uncomfortable beneath her. Sam
was here, but other than the occasional visitor exiting the ER
lobby, they were alone. Sitting outside the hospital, Sydney was
relegated to worry and wonder, speculate as to what happened, what
was going on. They were waiting for word from Sam’s friend, Dr.
Jennifer Hamilton. She was a local cardiologist and could access
information about Q that neither Sam nor Sydney were privy to.
Sydney expelled a sigh. But she had yet to tell them anything new.
As it stood, she only knew that Q had a seizure. At present he was
stable, but critical. “I wish I knew what was going on.”

“Jen will keep us posted.”

Sydney looked at Sam, the glare of sunlight
harsh against her eyes. Not yet noon, the humidity was bearable but
the heat was building from the black pavement. Soon it would be too
hot to sit outside. And then where would she go? Inside the waiting
room, taking up space for people who needed it?

No. She’d bide her time outside, heat or no
heat. “Thanks again for calling her. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know a
thing.”

Sam shrugged it off with a smile. “Helps to
know the right people.”

Because Sydney wasn’t the “right people.” Not
a member of the family, she wasn’t allowed to be anywhere near the
emergency room let alone in it, bedside, where she wanted to be.
She wasn’t allowed to demand information. She wasn’t allowed to sit
by and hold Clay’s hand. But as someone growing close to him, she
had every need to do that and more.

“Hungry?”

Sydney shook her head. She had no appetite.
She had no desire for anything other than information, to be on the
inside. It was horrible—frustrating—to watch Trish stroll in an
hour earlier. It made the waiting a thousand times worse knowing
she could waltz in there after she waltzed out of his life.

“How about a walk?”

She shook her head again. She needed to be
near. Even if they didn’t know that she was here, she did. She
didn’t want to be out of sight when information was delivered. She
wanted to be ready and waiting.

“Okay,” Sam said. “I’m good with
sitting.”

Sydney looked at her. Wanting to shield her
eyes but not caring enough to lift her hand, she merely squinted.
“What about your kids?”

“Vic can handle them.”

“Are you sure?” She hated to think that she’d
ruined their day.

“Of course. I think Gabby prefers Vic to me,
anyway,” she added with a wink.

“She’s eight, Sam.”

“And very bright for her age.” Sam beamed.
“She has Vic eating out of her hand.”

“She does?”

“Oh yes. He spoils her rotten and she soaks
it up.”

This caused Sydney to smile. “He’ll make a
great dad, someday.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “So I hear.”

It seemed Sam was still not budging on the
kid thing. She refused to become engaged to Vic, refused to have
children. But Sydney believed it was only a matter of time.
Eventually she thought Sam would cave in and marry Vic—though she
was running out of said time. In another year she’d be forty,
limiting her chances for pregnancy.

Sydney hugged her arms to her body. If she
had a man like Vic, she’d marry him in a minute—maybe even break
down and have kids. Why not? He was as devoted and caring as they
came, gave Sam the space to be who she wanted to be, professionally
and personally. From what Sam said, he was all about hands on
parenting. Seemed like the perfect match. Her gaze drifted toward
the glass doors labeled in block white letters, “EMERGENCY” and her
heart sank. The man inside those doors seemed pretty perfect
himself.

Sydney watched in silence as an ambulance
pulled up. No sirens, only lights, the paramedics moved without
hurry. They opened the back doors, slid out a stretcher. Another
routine delivery. Or a patient too late for medical care.

“And how about you?” Sam asked. “This Clay
fellow seems to be quite the dad himself. Is he still
interested?”

Sydney twisted the morbid line of thought
closed and replied, “Wouldn’t know.”

“Do you want to know?” Sam pressed.

Sydney spanked her with a heated gaze. “We’re
not back to this, are we?”

“Back to what?”

“Your matchmaking tendencies.”

Sam swept her hands around through the air,
taking note of nothing in particular and said, “We’re sitting
outside an emergency department waiting for word on his son’s
condition. If that doesn’t speak to your feelings, I don’t know
what does.”

“I’m concerned about the boy, okay?”

“So are a lot of other people but they’re not
here.” Sam quieted. “We are.”

About to rebuke the statement, Sydney
realized there was no point in arguing with Sam. She was right.
They were the ones hanging around waiting. Everyone else continued
with the games.

“Why is it such a problem for you to like
this guy?”

“Did you know that blonde at the pool is his
ex-wife?”

Sam peered at her with a quizzical look.
“
How would I know that
? And what does it matter? She’s the
boy’s mother, right? Makes sense she’d show up for his big
games.”

“But why now?”

“What do you mean, why now? Because now is
when the games are...?”

Sydney felt every bit as ridiculous as Sam
made her sound. And she didn’t like it. Not one bit. “She doesn’t
care about Q.”

“What?” Her mouth fell open.

“Oh never mind.” Sydney tried to brush it
off, hating the condemnation building in Sam’s reaction. “You don’t
understand.”

“Help me out. I’m a quick learner.”

“She left Q when he was a baby. She hardly
ever sees him. Suddenly she shows up for his events?”

“Maybe she regrets the error of her
ways.”

“Or maybe she wants to reconcile with Clay.”
Jealousy sliced clean through her. And it hurt. A lot.

“Where did that come from?”

Sydney angled away, momentarily unable to
meet the face of Sam’s logic. “You should have seen her the other
day. She was hanging all over him.” And in her private heart of
hearts, Sydney felt she was no match. If this Trish woman wanted to
dig her claws back into Clay, she’d fly off with him like a hawk
with its prey in her talons. She had the looks. She had the
biological connection. She had the advantage. “Her intentions were
clear.”

She’d win. And Sydney would lose.

“Sheath the daggers, darling. You’re going to
hurt someone.”

“I—” Sydney bit back her reply and grumbled
under her breath. “This is useless.”

“What’s going on, Syd?” Sam struck a hand to
the back of the bench as she slapped her arm down behind Sydney.
“What’s got you so riled?”

“Nothing.”

“Save it and spill. I’m sitting out in the
hot sun with you, ruining my pristine ivory complexion. You might
as well make it worth my while.”

“How can I compete with a woman like
that?”

“She’s T and A. You’re brains and brawn. You
win, hands down.” Sam leaned back and Sydney felt the boards groan
beneath her. “Next item up for resolution?”

“She’s gorgeous. Flawless.”

“So. You’re gorgeous, too.”

“I am not.”

“You are, too.” She pursed her lips in smug
disagreement. “Obviously Clay thinks so or he wouldn’t be chasing
you.”

“Another notch on the belt has nothing to do
with attractiveness.”

“Sydney—you’re a beautiful woman. You’re
smart, tough, ambitious, yet you’re kind and sensitive. You don’t
step on other people to get what you want. You care about doing
your best. You care about doing what’s right. Where’s the problem?
In my book, it doesn’t get any better than that.”

Sydney turned away and folded her arms over
her midsection. Her stomach growled, which she ignored. She was in
no mood to eat. “You’re only saying that because you’re my
friend.”

“True. But everyone else is thinking it too,
only they’re too afraid to say it aloud. Afraid you’ll clobber them
one.”

Sydney glared.

“I mean, seriously,” she slid out with a
grin. “You are kind of intimidating-looking. Built like a Mack
truck and cut like the Grand Canyon, you’re kind of frightening...”
Sam paused and waggled her brow. “In a sexy sort of way.”

Laughter burst from Sydney before she could
stop it. The eruption an unexpected relief. She smacked Sam’s knee
and chastised her, “Will you stop—you’re not helping here. This
isn’t fun for me.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not catching knives
anymore.” She relaxed and eased toward Sydney. “I’d say I’m doing
alright. You just need to lighten up on yourself. Bridge the way
you play volleyball to the way you live your life. No holds barred,
full focus, with confidence, grace and aplomb.”

“There’s no grace in volleyball.”

Sam winked. “You’ve never watched yourself
play. You’re like a gull sweeping down for its prize, swooping off
with the win. And you’re good with people—when you want to be.
You’re fun-loving and crazy—when you allow yourself to be. Why not
allow it with Clay?”

“Sam—” Sydney expelled a sigh and dropped her
head forward.

“What?”

“What am I going to do? Clay is leaving in a
few days. What am I supposed to do with my feelings for him?”

“You act on them, that’s what you do. You let
him know how you feel and let nature take it from there.”

She ground out and rose to face her head on.
“Acting on nature is nothing but trouble.”

Sam raised a brow. “Oh? Is there something
you haven’t told me?”

Sydney sank elbows to knees and rubbed her
face with her hands. “We kissed.”

“Ah, now we’re talking. My favorite subject!
Go on, give me the juicy details.”

Sydney turned to Sam. “He kisses like no
one’s business and...well...let’s just say I reacted.”

“Oh, slay the dragon with fire—I like
it!”

Sydney smiled, warmed by talk of better
moments with Clay. “Great. It’s not like I can repeat it when he’s
hundreds of miles away.”

“No, silly. You jump on an airplane and do it
there and back. Mile high club, anyone?”

She narrowed her gaze. “That’s
disgusting.”

“Well, I have to agree with you there.” She
wrinkled her nose. “Too stinky for my tastes. But it doesn’t mean
you can’t connect on the ground. Miami, South Carolina—not a bad
round trip sex hop, if you ask me.”

“Great. I’m going to go broke over sex
hopping. Yipee!” she squealed sarcastically.

Sam laughed. “Could be worth it!”

Sydney brushed Sam with an I-don’t-think-so
glance and grew somber. “How often would we be able to see each
other? My schedule isn’t exactly conducive to travel, you know.”
Not at the moment, anyway. And if she changed jobs? God only knows
where she’d end up, not to mention she’d have to start at the
bottom again.

“You make it what you want. Then, if things
prove serious, one of you makes a move.”

“Just like that.” Sydney snapped her fingers.
“
Poof
. You live in South Carolina now!”

“No one says he can’t be the one to
move.”

“He has a son and a family in South
Carolina,” she said, her gaze drifting back toward the ER doors.
“And a job he couldn’t get anywhere else. There’s no way he can
move. It would have to be me.” It would be she who was forced to
uproot her life, pull out the stops and hurl herself into a world
unknown. A life with family. A child. An ex-wife.

A sense of impending disaster swirled through
her veins as she imagined it coming to fruition. Moist heat
gathered beneath her shirt, flushed at her ears. Beads of
perspiration formed along her neck. Clay would have everything he
wanted, right where he wanted it. And when they realized it wasn’t
going to work? It would be she who would have to pick up the pieces
and move on.
How was that appealing
?

“You’re being negative.”

“I’m being a realist.” And it was the second
time in one day she was defending her realistic viewpoint. Why was
that? Was she the only grownup around here, living amongst a bunch
of fairies flitting about in fantasyland? “I don’t want to set
myself up for failure. It’s a waste of time.”

“My God, Syd. Would you give yourself a
fighting chance?”

“And end up disappointed? What’s the point?
Marriage doesn’t always work out the way it’s supposed to, you
know.”