Chapter 35
Mom
An ambulance is taking Mr. King to the hospital.
Mom
I thought you might want to know.
Is Julien okay? My heart is beating out the tattoo of those words on repeat.
The concern should be about Mr. King, but my brain isn’t going there.
All I can think about is Julien. Is he all right?
My blood rushes through my veins on rafts of adrenaline, but instead of my heart pumping overtime for the man in danger, it’s pounding in worry for his son.
Julien has been terrified that something like this was going to happen. He’d told me just the other day that he was afraid he would walk into his dad’s office and find him slumped over at his desk.
Dear Lord, please don’t let that be what happened.
But of course that’s all I can picture now.
Sweet, unsuspecting Julien opening the door to Mr. King’s office to find him crumpled on the floor.
Or Julien, talking with his dad, only for Mr. King to go deathly white, clutch his chest, and have a heart attack on the spot.
There are too many scenarios, none of them good, and all of them rocking Julien’s world at its foundation.
I hope with everything in me that he isn’t blaming himself, but I’m afraid he might be.
He already feels guilty that he hadn’t been able to convince his dad to retire years ago, not to mention the frustration and responsibility he’s put on his shoulders that the man still refuses to stay away from the office even after officially stepping down.
It’s not Julien’s fault, and I hope he sees that.
He doesn’t need any self-reproach on top of the worry and fear that must already be overwhelming him.
My thumb hovers over Julien’s contact information on my phone. I need to hear his voice. I need to hear if it’s steady and strong or spinning out of control. Maybe then I can stop my own concern from hijacking my body like it’s attempting to do.
But this isn’t about me. It’s not the time to focus on my needs. What does Julien need?
Probably not the distraction of a phone call. Not if he’s in the ambulance with his father or at the hospital with him. All of his focus should be on his dad, not in worrying about me worrying about him.
He needs support. To know someone’s got him and he’s not alone.
His mom is likely either at the hospital or on her way, so he won’t be alone. But as for support? Julien will be that more for his mom than the other way around.
He needs me.
The thought claws its way past all the other frantic ones running around in my brain and settles with clarity and rightness. I don’t second-guess. I grab my keys and sprint to my car.
The distance to the city has never been more loathsome than it is right now.
Even if I disregard speed limits, it’s still going to take me a little over an hour to get to the hospital.
I spend the time praying while gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white.
Finally, the hospital comes into view, and I follow the signs to the side of the building where red letters spell out Emergency like a beacon.
The automatic doors swish open when I get close, but my feet slow once I’m in the building.
Should I call Julien now to let him know I’m here or go ahead and tell the receptionist the situation?
She won’t let me back without Mr. King’s consent, I don’t think, especially since I’m not family, but I don’t want anyone to bother him if he’s having tests done or if they’re doing some sort of emergency procedure to save his life.
“Martha.”
Someone calling my name has me looking around. My dad sits in one of the chairs on the other side of the waiting room. What’s he doing here? I walk over to him and ask.
“Tabitha and I were in the garden when Julien called to tell her John was on the way to the hospital. She was understandably shaken up, so I offered to drive her.”
“And you decided to stick around?”
He pats the chair beside him. “I knew you’d come. Plus, I wanted to be here in case anyone needed anything. A food run or someone to go back to the house to gather toiletries and a change of clothes if they’re going to keep John overnight.”
“You’re a good man.” I twist around to look at the doors that lead past the waiting room and into the emergency department, as if I can see through them and ascertain how things are going. “Have you heard anything?”
“Just that Julien’s worried his father might have had a stroke.”
I whip back around, my eyes wide. “That’s not good.”
My phone starts ringing in my purse, so I dig it out. Heart leaping to see it’s Julien calling, I punch the green accept circle harder than necessary. “Julien, are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He sounds exhausted, his voice tight and ragged. “Yeah, I’m all right.”
“And your dad?” I hold my breath.
“They think he had a transient ischemic attack, which I guess is like a ministroke. He’s back getting an MRI right now. We’ll know more after that, but he seems to be doing a lot better.”
“Okay,” I say, processing the information. “Okay, that’s good.”
“I was so scared, Martha. I’m here sitting alone in this tiny room in the emergency department waiting for them to wheel him back in, and I can’t stop reliving the moment he got dizzy and fell. I can’t stop thinking about how I could have lost my father today.”
My heart twists. “You aren’t alone, Julien. I’m here.”
“I know. You’re here for me, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. Just hearing your voice is already helping. I can’t imagine going through this without you. I’m beginning to wonder how I ever went through anything in my life without you.”
I grip the phone tighter, emotions swelling inside me. “No, I mean I’m here. I’m in the waiting room.”
“You are?” Relief echoes in every syllable. “Will you come back if I get someone to buzz you in?”
“If you want me to.”
“I do,” he assures me. “I want you so much.”
I stand up and lock eyes with Dad. Go, he mouths and shoos me away, settling back in his chair with a magazine.
I walk to the doors and wait for the buzzing sound signaling they’re unlocked.
Instead, they swing open and Julien stands on the other side.
He pulls me into a tight hug and buries his face into the crook of my neck.
I squeeze him back, rubbing comforting circles between his shoulder blades.
After a moment, he pulls away and takes my hand. “Come on. His room is right down here.”
There’s only one chair in the small room, which makes sense because I doubt the doctors and nurses want to crowd the area with overly concerned family members while they’re trying to do their jobs. Besides, I have no problem standing beside Julien, both figuratively and literally.
Julien walks to the chair and sits, but instead of letting me take up sentinel beside him, he tugs on my hand and pulls me down onto his lap, immediately wrapping me in his arms and nuzzling into me.
He takes in a deep, slow breath, then takes just as long exhaling, as if that’s the first full breath he’s been able to experience all day.
“Thank you for coming.”
I pull my arm out from between our bodies and settle it around his shoulders, my fingers dipping into his hair to scratch his scalp.
His body relaxes further as I offer what comfort I can through physical touch, rhythmically raking my fingers through his hair from root to tip and back again.
His hand is warm and firm on my hip, anchoring me to him as if he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he lets go.
He has nothing to worry about on that front. I don’t plan on going anywhere.
“Whenever you need me, I’ll be there.” I tilt my head to rest it on top of his. “I promise.”
The door opens and Mrs. King walks in, followed by a man in scrubs, pushing Mr. King in a wheelchair. I slide off Julien’s lap and stand. He stands as well, his body going tight.
“They said they’d come by with the results in about an hour,” Mrs. King explains at Julien’s expectant expression. She turns to me. “Hello, Martha dear. It’s so good of you to come and check up on us all.”
“Is there anything you need, Mrs. King? Anything I can get for you?”
Her smile is small and strained but nonetheless sincere. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m fine. Although maybe it’s time you start calling me Tabitha?” She flicks a mischievous look at her son. “Unless you want to wait until you can call me Mom?”
I freeze, not really sure how to react to her teasing. On the one hand, it’s nice to have a moment of levity when the last couple of hours have been so heavy. On the other hand, I’m still processing this mental shift that Julien’s parents are fine with me dating their son.
Unbidden, my gaze moves to the hospital bed where Mr. King has settled. His eyes are on me as well.
“May I have a minute with Martha, please?” He asks the room, but his gaze never leaves mine.
A lead weight sinks in my chest. I can’t help but think back to the last time Mr. King and I talked in private. Will this be when he tells me that I not only don’t have what it takes to be an author, but I also don’t have what it takes to fit the role of Julien’s significant other?
Julien presses a kiss to my temple before trailing his mom out of the room. The nurse follows a second later after he finishes hooking Mr. King back up to the machines and jotting down his vitals.
Mr. King lifts his hand off the hospital bed and beckons me closer.
I gulp down my trepidation but do as bidden.
It’s not until I’m standing beside his prone body that I notice how much frailer and weaker he appears than in my memory.
I always think of him as a powerhouse. Immovable and commanding. Untouchable.
Lying in the hospital bed, he looks . . .
well, he looks like an ordinary man. Tired and worn down.
Clothed with all the years that he’s experienced.
His thinning hair is disheveled, and there are age spots along his arms that have been hidden beneath his suit jackets.
My intimidation of him slowly dissipates.