Whisper Privileges (38 page)

Because she was insecure, handcuffed to doubt
and a past that Clay would never understand. He would never
understand what it felt like to have hot blades of jealousy cut
through her every time she stepped near that woman, sliced her
heart in two every time she imagined him thinking about her. It was
an awful feeling, a feeling ingrained in her since childhood. Her
mother’s insane drive toward perfection was a poor example for any
woman to set for her daughter, and her father’s behavior only
perpetuated the cycle. It laid a foundation of mistrust, instilled
a lack of confidence regarding how others saw her, what they
thought of her. Did they think she was good enough? Smart enough?
Did they think she was attractive?

Then her father left and it was as if he
confirmed it.
You’re not pretty enough, thin enough, young
enough. Your skin is dropping into folds and creases and you’re no
longer worthy of my affection. Nor is my daughter worth staying.
You both lack what I need, what it takes to keep me here
.

It’s the reason Sydney swore off family.
Marriage and kids weren’t her thing. That’s what other people did
and from her experience, didn’t do it well. They divorced. They
fought. They put their child smack in the middle of their
problems.

But not her. She was going to work, and
achieve, and find value in her career. She was going to travel and
experience life. She was going places and she wouldn’t depend on
some man and his attention to get her there. Hadn’t she learned her
lesson with Javier? How ugly a man could turn and how quickly, she
thought bitterly. She once looked up to him, respected him. She
once made him the center of her world and what did he do?

Gawked at other women. He stared and lusted
and made her feel small. It was a position she would never put
herself in again. She would never be made to feel second-best—not
to Morgan and not to Trish. Not to anyone. Clay had been a weak
moment on her part. Alone since her break up with Javier, he’d made
her feel beautiful, desirable. Images of Trish spit and popped in
her mind’s eye. No thank you, she fumed, feeling stronger with
every step she took. Clay and his ex represented the downside of
love—divorce—and it was a chapter in her life she’d rather not
repeat.

Rounding the building corner, she spotted Sam
standing beneath the
porte-cochére
. Good. She expelled a
crisp sigh of relief. It was time to get this scene behind her. She
waved and Sam waved back. First she’d call Charlie and check on
things, then she’d swing by the office and begin to wrap things up.
Venues had to be cleared, vendors had to be called... There were a
ton of things to do and wasting her time with Clay was not
helpful.

“How’s Q?” Sam asked as she joined her under
the awning.

“He’s fine—or seems to be,” she clarified,
grateful for the instant reprieve from the heat. “Clay thinks he’ll
be fine.”

“Good. Glad to hear it.” Sam gave her the
once over as if to ask, why so brief? But seemed to think better of
it. “My car is over there.” She pointed beyond a cluster of
banyans, vines dripping down from the canopy, partially blocking
the sight of her red sports car.

Sam took off and Sydney followed. “Listen,
please tell Jennifer I’m sorry for calling her to the hospital on
her day off.” Though she found it odd for a doctor to take off on a
Tuesday.

“Oh, you didn’t.” Sam smiled and pulled the
car keys from her purse.

“What are you talking about? She wasn’t
dressed for work.”

“Didn’t I tell you? She turned over a new
leaf when she met Jax.”

Sydney vaguely recalled the story of how the
two met, something about he was her gardener, or lawn guy. At the
time she was engaged to be married—to someone else. But it seemed
the two hooked up and out went the wedding. With the original
fiancé, anyway. Apparently a lot of people seek “greener” pastures,
even after professing their love and commitment. “So what is she
doing now?”

“She and Jax do missionary work throughout
the Caribbean. They sail around on his boat, stopping to help sick
people island by island. A real couple of beach angels, those two.”
Sam grinned, pleased by her metaphor.

The comparison invoked thoughts of Clay. He
was a sailor. Had he ever been to the Caribbean? Did he like the
islands, the crystalline blue waters offering up miles of freedom
and time? Or was racing all he cared to do, hell bent on getting
from one place to the next before anyone else. There was so much
about Clay she didn’t know. Two weeks had not been nearly enough
time.

“Anyway, when they’re stateside, she runs a
clinic that provides free care to the poor and they don’t care how
she dresses. Though personally, I think Jax is the reason she’s
mellowed. Really loosened her right up, if you know what I mean.”
Sam grinned again, this time with a lascivious gleam in her eye.
She pressed the auto unlock for her Mercedes.

Which could only mean she was talking sex.
Sydney mused, flipping her gaze up into the trees.
How
unusual
. It explained the tan, anyway. Probably an allover tan,
if what Sam was alluding to was true. “How can they afford to do
that? I mean, medicine costs money. It doesn’t grow on trees.”

“Independently wealthy,” she replied.

Sydney blew a wisp of hair from her eyes.
“Must be nice.”

“Not really.” Sam opened her door. “It’s due
to an inheritance from her parents’ estate. Her mom died a couple
of years ago leaving Jen with a boatload of money. Add what she
gleaned from the sale of her home in the Gables and she’s doing
quite well. Besides, Jax earns money doing landscape work while
they’re in the islands.”

“Really?”

Sam laughed and grabbed hold of her car door
rim. “Oh, you should see some of the landscapes he does. While
she’s busy healing the poor, he’s out designing gorgeous lawns for
million dollar homes!” She shook her head. “What a life.”

Yes, what a life, she thought and clasped the
passenger door handle. Smooth steel filled her palm as she imagined
a life of travel, luxury, doing the work you love with the person
you love by your side. Definitely a life she could get used to. And
should. She opened the door and eased down to the leather bucket
seat. She was still young. She could still change course, alter her
direction.
What would you do if you knew you would not fail
?
It sure as heck wouldn’t be gluing herself to a dead-end job like
she had with JL Conventions, a boss who didn’t appreciate her and a
coworker out to get her fired.

# # #

Five o’clock came much too soon. Sydney had
done nothing but pick up her car, drive by her office then back to
the hospital. Charlie had done his good deed for the day and
checked out her venues reporting to her that all was well. She
thanked him, though it still stuck in her craw that it took a
child’s near death experience for him to turn decent. A decency
that was short-lived. The second he asked about Trish was the
second she ceased doling out the credit.

As she entered through the front doors, a
flutter of nerves scrambled within her chest. Nothing she wasn’t
used to by now, but it still bothered her. She didn’t like the
sensation of constantly being on edge, on guard. But that’s what a
life with Clay and Trish would mean. Only more intense, because
then her heart would be invested. Not a winning return, if you
asked her. Sydney aimed straight for the information desk. At
present she had no idea where Clay and Q were, but for the last
hour her mind had been humming with anticipation at seeing them
again, nerves stretched tight and brittle. Pluck,
pling
.
Like they could break at the merest hint of pressure.

“Hello.”

The white-haired woman dressed in pink looked
up and smiled. A pleasant welcome twinkled in her aging, brown
eyes. “Good afternoon. How may I help you?”

“I was wondering if you could tell me where Q
Rutledge is.”

“Is he a patient here?”

“Yes.”

“Certainly.” She slid her computer mouse
across the desk, clicked several times and read from her computer
screen. “He’s in room 402, bed one.”

“Thank you.”

“Take the elevators to your right, dear.”

“Yes, thanks,” Sydney replied and headed in
that direction. Tucked away in a side enclave, recessed lighting
illuminated the gleaming doors of stainless steel. She hoped Q
would be awake and able to talk. She didn’t want to come all this
way and miss him again. Seeing as how it would be the last
time...

Doors slid open and she entered, pressing the
button for his floor. As the doors closed, her angst began to
build. Would Trish still be here? Would Clay’s parents? She’d like
a little time with Clay before...before...

Before she said goodbye
? Is that what
she planned to do today? Bid him farewell? Adrenaline screamed
through her back, her arms. Her legs withered from a hefty stream
of the same. Of course that’s what she was doing. It was the
natural progression, the natural end. The elevator doors opened to
a wide hall. Right? Numbers were posted on the wall ahead of her.
Room 402 would be to her left.

Pulling the strap of her purse tight on her
shoulder, the leather bag tucked securely beneath her arm, she
walked to the left and looked for Q’s room. The nursing station was
located front and center, with halls leading in three directions.
Doctors and nurses crisscrossed paths, orderlies pushed metal food
carts loaded with covered plastic trays giving the impression of a
well-orchestrated maze, everyone intent on getting to their
destination. She could almost see the “do not disturb” signs
hanging from their necks. Good thing the numbers were marked
prominently on walls and doors. She’d be able to find her way
without assistance.

Continuing until she reached room 402, she
craned her head around the edge of the door. Propped up in his bed,
Q was awake. He waved. “Hi Sydney!”

Clay turned his head in her direction and
smiled. “Hi. C’mon in.”

She ambled in, pulse bumping between her
ears. She checked the bathroom. Door open, light off. Looked like
they were alone. She exhaled a sigh of relief. That would make this
easier. She wandered in and stopped near the end of his bed.
“Hello, Q.” She summoned forth her best smile. “How are you
feeling?”

“Good.”

“Doctor said the MRI came back clear,” Clay
told her. “EEG looks good.” Clay touched briefly upon Q and added,
“Now we wait and watch how he does.”

She approached the foot of his bed. “That’s
great,” she said, recalling the information she received from
Jennifer. No additional seizures in the first twenty-four hours and
Q should be fine. And he looked good. His color was pink, his eyes
were bright. He seemed perfectly normal, like nothing ever
happened.

“I’m hungry.”

“You are?” she asked, then looked to Clay.
Was he allowed to eat
?

“Q doesn’t like the food they’re
serving.”

“It’s gross.”

Sydney chuckled, relieved. Typical kid
response. “Well, hospitals aren’t known for their food, Q. But they
do know how to help kids when they’re not feeling well.” A sadness
entered his eyes and she immediately thought of his lost gold. “I’m
sorry about the race.”

His gaze darted to his dad. “I was
winning.”

“I told him he was way out front. He had the
gold.”

If he finished the race
. Left
unspoken, the statement stood loud and clear between them. Hanging
like a pendulum sweeping to the rhythm of bleeping monitors, they
all heard the same thing. If he hadn’t seized, if he’d finished the
raced, he could have won.

The loss wedged deep. She hated losing,
remembered the pain very well. While others’ questioned the tears
in the eyes of brawny NFL football players, she never did. Losing
hurt. Bad. She inhaled and quick breath and said, “You were
amazing. I was so proud of how you swam that race.” Tears pushed
behind her eyes but she fought them off. She would not cry in front
of him. Could not. “It was awesome.”

He smiled and nodded. “I counted my
strokes.”

“It worked.”

“Q’s already talking about the world games,”
Clay informed her.

“Really?” She’d heard the next ones were to
be held in Brazil. Did Clay and Q plan on attending? Purse clutched
tightly to her side, the strap fell from her shoulder.

“They’re going to be in Rio de Janeiro next
summer. Q and I are already plotting out his practice schedule.
It’s going to be tough competition, but he’ll do well.” Clay
visually confirmed with his son. “Right, Q?”

“Right on!”

Clay laughed. “That’s his new mantra.”

Sydney felt a swell of admiration for the
boy. Mere hours past his seizure yet here he was, planning his next
competition. Talk about bounce back—after what he’d gone through?
“Did the doctors say he could swim again?”

Clay hesitated, but only for a second. “He
will. We’ll watch him closely, monitor his progress. If need be, he
can take anti-seizure medication.”

“I won’t need it,” Q spoke up between
them.

“If doc says you do, then you do.”

Q quieted, but the resolve in his eyes spoke
volumes. Affection for him burst inside her. The boy was an
athlete; a bull of perseverance and determination. Suddenly, she
had no doubt. Q would do it, medication or not.

“Q has a favor to ask.”

Startled, she looked at Clay. “Of me?” Sydney
pulled the fallen strap back into place.

“Yes.” Then to Q he directed, “Go on. Tell
Sydney what you told me.”

He looked at her, but his previous exuberance
was gone. In its place, the most earnest yearning had assumed
residence. Pure, naked, and unashamed. She nearly crumbled under
its weight. Whatever he wanted, she’d give it to him. It was that
simple.