9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
E mma
I watch my grandpa's pale face as the monitors beep at his bedside. His chest slowly rises and falls but all I can see are the tubes going in and through him, the consistent reading on the monitor, and the red light that comes on every once in a while.
He’s breathing properly now with the help of the machines and God.
But he might not be able to do so for long.
I blow out a breath and rest my forehead in my hands wondering what the fuck I’m going to do now. Grandpa needs surgery. Surgery costs money which we don’t have. Heck, we probably don’t even have any money for this current emergency room visit. Insurance should cover some of it but what if it doesn’t?
I feel my heartbeat slipping out of my control again and remind myself to breathe. I’m no use to Grandpa right now if I keep panicking. He needs me to be strong and figure out a way to help him.
But I can’t figure it out. A part of me feels like a kid standing alone in the hospital waiting room as Grandpa goes in to identify what was left of my parents. Even though I was young at the time, I remember how scared and alone I felt for those few seconds standing there.
And then Grandpa returned. I saw the pure grief in his eyes, the tears tracks on his cheeks, but he hid it for my sake, swallowing it all back and giving me a tremulous smile instead.
"Grandpa, where are mom and dad?" I asked as he drew me into his arms.
"They’re fine," he told me. "But they had to go somewhere far away."
My eyes widened. "Without me? When will they come back?"
I saw something crack in his eyes. "They're not coming back. It's just me and you now, kid."
And that was when I cried my heart out into his chest, enfolded in his slender arms. I cried so hard that I fell asleep, and he carried me home. I cried for the entire funeral and weeks after.
But eventually, the crying dwindled and life began again. One thing that helped me with my grief was Grandpa. Taking me fishing and telling me stories about his time working in the hotel.
He would tell me stories about my parents too, even when he cried while doing it. He refused to let the past become taboo or bitter, instead, sharing stories of laughter and love, allowing my memories of them to be colored by only the good.
He would even share stories of the hotel.
It was odd that the thing that killed them became an object of fascination to me. At first, I had conflicting emotions regarding the Pink Hotel.
I made my Grandpa take me there nearly every day after the fire, and when we went, I would either cry my eyes out or laugh hysterically listening to the stories he would tell.
Stories about the supposed ghosts haunting the Pink Hotel made me think that just maybe my parents were still hanging around watching me and so were especially fascinating.
Maybe they were ghosts too, and if I could unlock the secret behind the hotel, then I could talk to them.
It was bittersweet, but it was something that got me through a particularly dark time of my life.
And now I can only look at the hotel with fondness and respect, as my parent’s final resting place, a home where their souls may still remain.
My obsession with the Pink Hotel was why I spent days poring over Madam Thornley’s diary And though I eventually grew out of it, I will always remember those weeks spent with Grandpa after my parent's death with a bittersweet fondness.
And now as I’m watching him in bed it occurs to me that I could be losing Grandpa too.
I reach out to grasp his hand, gently pressing my forehead against it.
Please , I beg silently. Please don’t leave me too.
I stay there praying for a miracle, as tears roll down my cheeks once more, staining the white sheets underneath me. I pray and cry until I eventually slip into a dreamless sleep.
It's near dusk outside when I awaken. I must have slept the afternoon away.
I rise and to head for the front desk. Might as well see how much damage we’ve caused and how much the surgery is going to cost too.
I trudge out feeling drained. I smack my lips. Not a pleasant sensation. My mouth feels like I was sucking on mothballs the entire night. I stop for a second by the dispenser at the end of the hall fetching some water with a paper cup and drinking it. I gargle the first sip before spitting it in the trash and then swallow the second gulp.
Hopefully, my breath doesn’t stink.
I head to the nurse's desk, where the four nurses alternate between communicating with each other and typing on their computers. I wait, not wanting to interrupt. Finally, I catch the eye of a middle-aged woman with a mop of strawberry blonde curls.
"Um, excuse me," I start, and she gives me a sympathetic look.
"Hey sweetie, how are you holding up? How’s your grandfather?"
"He’s doing better thanks," I say, clearing my rough voice.
"We’re sorry about what he’s going through," another younger dark-haired nurse declares. "I see him sometimes when he comes to bridge with my grandma. We're all devastated to hear the news."
I nod. I’m not surprised. Grandpa is known and loved by a bunch of people in town.
"Hopefully, he'll be fine," I offer her a weak smile and then get to what I came here for. "I wanted to know, um, about the bill?"
"Oh don’t worry about it," the blonde nurse says. "Your boyfriend already settled it."
"My...boyfriend?"
"Yeah. The tall, handsome fella who walked up looking like a movie star.
I gotta tell you honey you really scored a home run with that one. He looks delicious with all that dark hair and eyes and that body...yum."
It takes me a second to make sense of what they’re saying. "Wait, you mean he covered my Grandpa's bill?"
"Yeah. Paid for the whole thing. Told me to put his card on file too in case you need something else."
"But that’s..." I’m too stunned to speak or even think of an adjective to describe what he just did.
"Yeah." The nurse grins as though she can hear my thoughts, then turns to the younger woman. "And of course, he’s not her boyfriend. Ain’t nothing boy about him. That is a man."
I shake my head slowly, still in shock. "He's not my man."
"You sure about that? 'Cause not to be nosy but we saw you guys hugging earlier."
"Yeah, but that was...he's just a friend," I finally land on.
The nurse doesn't look like she believes me. "Whatever he is hon, I hope you keep him around."
"Yeah. Anyway, thanks for letting me know." I walk away conflicted.
Declan paid the hospital bill.
He's trying to pay for the surgery, too.
I stop in the middle of the hallway, rendered still by my amazement.
On one hand, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
On the other hand, I feel burdened with a weight of another kind. One big question runs through my mind.
Why?
I know Declan is wealthy but that still isn’t a reason. I've seen a bunch of rich stingy people.
And the last thing I said to him before this all happened was that he was a control freak.
I blush just thinking about it.
I’ve not been very nice to him since we met. But he held me and comforted me when I cried. He even brought Grandpa to the hospital. I would have been too much of a wreck if he hadn’t done that, if he hadn’t been there.
Nevertheless, the suspicious part of me has to wonder if this is all part of some sick plan. I mean he kissed me at my doorway with little prompting. And then there’s the heated way he looks at me sometimes, when he’s not being dismissive that is. It’s clear that he’s attracted to me even though he doesn’t want to be.
Is that why he’s paying the hospital bill? So that I’ll sleep with him?
That’s what a lot of the wealthy, older men back in California would do. In college, if you were pretty enough, they would spend obscene amounts on you in hopes of tethering you to them.
Some of them had an almost disturbing penchant for barely-legal girls , I remember with a shudder of disgust.
But I’m not barely legal, and Declan, despite everything, doesn’t seem like the type to pay for it. Plus, even though he’s rude and lacks charm, he’s handsome enough to get women without having to resort to those schemes.
Either way, I can’t just accept this money from him. I have to find a way to pay him back.
I stay with Grandpa for a few more minutes, then I head out.
It’s not hard to find out where Declan is. Hal Rojas mentioned yesterday that Declan set up his office in the guest house at the Pink Hotel. Getting there is the problem. The town bus doesn't go that far. Grandpa's truck isn't great for distances farther than the grocery store.
As I step on the bus outside the hospital parking lot, I mentally run through a list of people who I can ask for help.
I get off at the town center but instead of going to the Tiki Bar, I head right opposite to My Fair Lady Steakhouse.
Lou, the owner, is wiping down tables and moping at the same time when I walk in. The large, Rubenesque beauty glances up, strands of hair escaping from the short, ponytail at the nape of her neck.
"Hi, Lou," I say and get straight to the point because Lou hates faffing around. "I need to borrow your car for a bit. Can I?"
She must have heard about what happened to Grandpa because she cuts me slack and doesn’t even hesitate to gesture to the bar. "Keys are in my purse."
"Thank you," I say and head over. Mrs. Peach is at the bar, the sole other person in the restaurant.
"How is everything?" she asks, sympathy gleaming in her eyes. "I’m sorry, hon, but I heard about what happened to your Grandpa. My friend works at the hospital and they saw you bring him in."
I'm pretty sure sharing that information violates some kind of law but it’s a small town. It’s to be expected and no matter how invasive it feels, I know they mean well.
I just wish I had time to settle with the news before it started spreading around.
"He’s doing okay," I say. I try to smile but I don’t quite manage. "They got him stabilized now and he should be waking up soon."
"Oh, that’s good." She claps her hands together and smiles. I turn and head back to the entrance.
"Remember the brakes need oiling, so don't go too fast," Lou says in her usual straightforward manner. "And don't use up all my gas. Nothing past ten miles."
"I won’t," I say. Ten miles? She’s definitely feeling generous today.
My next stop is the Tiki Bar.
Rick is in today standing by the bar bare-chested in khaki pants and putting away his hunting rifle
"Hey kiddo," he says. "Where have you been? You were supposed to be in this afternoon."
Shoot, I forgot to call Carly. "Grandpa had an emergency."
Rick freezes, his expression instantly switching from scolding to shocked. "What do you mean?"
"He had a heart attack." I barely get the words out. Even though Grandpa is stable now, the memory of him falling still has my heart racing with fear. So much could have gone wrong. Heck if not for Declan's quick thinking, I may have just been there frozen in fear. And God only knows what would have happened to my Grandpa then.
I shiver in fear and snap back to realize Rick is still staring at me in concern
"He’s fine now," I say. "Well, fine-ish. He’s hanging in there. But right now I need to go somewhere so I won't be able to help you close."
"Sure." Rick runs his hand through his hair, drops of water falling on me. Well, I don't know if it's water or sweat. Rick has pretty bad hyperhidrosis. "Jeez, that old man. I’ve told him to take it easy about a million times, but he never listens to me."
"He doesn’t listen to anyone," I sigh. It's ironic because Rick is nearly the same as Grandpa and also hates getting checkups. "Anyway, I gotta go."
"Alright, be careful. I'll go see him after I'm done here. You’re not riding your grandpa's piece of junk are you?"
"No. I'm going in Lou's Mazda."
"Oh. You're taking the witch's sedan."
I shake my head at him. Whatever rivalry my Grandpa has with Poppy Moon, Rick has a similar one with Lou. "Don't call her that. And I would take your truck, but I don't drive stick."
"Yeah, yeah. Just be careful. For all you know, she's cast a hex on it or something."
The drive to the Pink Hotel is an orange, pink, and blue blur. The leaves are turning, and it's my favorite time of the year. But I can't focus on the beautiful scenery. I'm thinking about what I'm going to say to Declan when I see him.
Strangely I’m nervous about this meeting. Mostly because I don’t know what mood I’m going to find him in.
Is he going to be in a foul mood after the fight with his daughter?
Or is he going to be the gentleman who held me in the hospital waiting room?
I can still remember the feeling of his arms enfolding me making me feel so safe amidst the chaos of my mind, like an elixir to soothe my worries
It was…nice.
Prior to that, I thought he hated me.
So why did he cover the bill?
There’s only one way to find out.
When I pull into the parking lot, there's another truck parked next to Declan's jeep. It has the Atlas Construction logo stamped on it. Hal must be here.
I get out of the car, breathing in the wild scent of the forest.
It’s been a while since I’ve been here.
The hotel sits silently at the end of the road like an abandoned castle of a fairy tale.
In some way, the Pink Hotel reminds me of sleeping beauty, but in the sense that the castle itself is asleep just waiting for a prince to bring it back to life
I used to hope that someone would come around and polish it till it returned to its former prestige as the historical landmark of our town.
I suppose that for me, maybe it’s twisted, but it would be a means of honoring my parents too, making their final home shine, physically preserving their memory in a sense.
Perhaps Declan is that man and his arrival is good news after all. Maybe we were short-sighted in rejecting him too quickly.
I hear the voices echoing out as I approach the guest house.
"How much is it going to cost?" Declan's deep voice asks.
"Man," Hal responds. "I really don’t think that–"
"Forget what you think. How much?"
The door is open and I watch Hal wring his baseball cap in his hand. He runs his hand through spiky dark hair, looking little like he just got electrocuted.
Then he finally catches my eyes in the doorway.
"Emm." He looks surprised to see me. "Nice to see you here."
Declan turns too. But his expression is harder to bear so I focus on Hal.
"Hi, Hal. Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to talk to him for a bit. But I’ll leave you two–"
"No need." Declan suddenly stands out of his seat. "Hal, organize your quote and send it to me. That's all."
"...sure." Hal reluctantly shuffles out past me, his large shoulders sagging. I grow curious. I’ve never known Hal to be sad about work.
"So does everyone in this town know you?" Declan asks, distracting me from my musings.
"Pretty much," I say. "It’s a small town."
"Mmm." He shifts closer, concern sparking in his eyes. "How's your grandfather?"
"He's alright." Nerves bounce around my stomach, growing with his nearness. "Speaking of which, I wanted to thank you for what you did."
He shrugs. "No big deal. Driving you to the hospital is a civic duty."
"No not that. I mean the other thing." I sigh. "You know, covering the hospital visit."
His expression doesn't change.
"Thank you but you didn't have to do that. And...maybe I wish you hadn't." But also, selfishly, I'm glad he did.
"Why not?"
"It's hard for me to accept charity."
"Who says it's charity?"
I raise an eyebrow. "Why else would you pay the hospital bills for a girl and man you barely know?"
He sighs. "Maybe I'm just a nice guy. So what? That's supposed to be a good thing. Consider it thanks for putting up with my daughter."
"That was no chore, and you know it."
Declan reaches out and picks up a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. I lose track of what I'm saying. With his hand trailing down my cheek it’s impossible to think much less speak.
"I'm the selfish one," he says. "I did it because I wanted to. Because I couldn't stand to see you cry."
The last word leaves his mouth in a whisper, and my mouth drops to lips that get closer and closer until they press softly against mine.
All the pressure sitting inside me explodes. I let it all out in the kiss, the passion, the fear, the relief.
My heart stops in my chest when he hoists me up against his desk.
Suddenly, I'm soaring somewhere in the clouds. Declan's kiss transports me there, the slow exploration of my mouth something I’ve never experienced.
I’ve kissed men before but never with that gradual intensity as they ate at my lips. I’ve never felt like someone was breathing me in before, inhaling me like the oxygen they needed to live.
Until now.
His hand is at the back of my neck, holding me in place as he dominates my mouth. His tongue masterly moves against mine, coaxing it into a dance. I try to keep up, meeting his tongue, tasting his masculine essence. I try to ignore my racing heartbeat and the heat gathering between my legs as I groan into my mouth.
"Not enough." He tears back and suddenly whispers against my lips, as he steps in between my legs.
I get the brush of hardness against my thigh.
It drives everything up a notch.
It occurs to me that this is happening so fast, and everything is spiraling out of control.
The thought comes to me again, that perhaps this is the goal of it all. Maybe Declan did pay my grandpa’s hospital bill just to fuck me as a result.
He thinks I owe him this. I should push him away, put a stop to this. I need to show him that I have more self-respect than that, that I can’t be bought.
But then his tongue curls around mine and he moans in my mouth. I stop thinking entirely.