26. Harry
26
HARRY
I hardly sleep a wink worrying about Ruby.
Celia told me to call back in the morning, that she got Ruby some medication from the pharmacy and was hopeful she’d be on the mend after a good night’s sleep. But now, she isn’t answering my calls.
I shower and dress and go into the office early when the night is still stretching its arms and yawning in the face of the day. The city is sleepy, hushed, but a strange sense of foreboding is sneaking around inside my gut and yelling at me to do something. I’ve never really thought about sixth sense and premonition, but all I do know is that this doesn’t feel right.
I call Ruby’s house again from the office. Still no answer.
I call my dad’s house and the phone rings until the sound is imprinted in my brain. He doesn’t pick up. I speak to the night security guard in the lobby, and he tells me he has no record of my dad entering the building over the last twenty-four hours.
I know it’s a long shot, but I call the airline and ask them to check if my dad caught his flight back to New York. By this point, I’m not even surprised to hear that he didn’t. So, he either stayed in Chicago, or he caught a flight elsewhere; one thing is for certain: he didn’t come home.
After making myself a coffee, I sit at my desk and study the investment risks and profit forecasts of the joint venture with Russo Corporation, but the figures bounce about in front of my eyes like fleas on a dog. I usually enjoy the peace of the early morning office before the building fills with people and telephone calls and the hum of electrical equipment, but today, I just feel alone. Like I’ve somehow been stranded in a parallel universe where no one else exists and, any moment now, I’ll realize that I’m the last man standing.
I don’t understand how lost I feel until there’s a knock on the door, and Lizzie bounds into the room, her smile fading when she sees me with my head in my hands, the desk strewn with paper. “You look like you could do with a coffee.”
I peer at her, lack of sleep slowly catching up with me. “The first two didn’t touch the sides.”
“That bad, huh?” She shakes her head. “Lucky I came in when I did then.”
She disappears and returns a couple minutes later with a cup of steaming coffee and some pastries.
“When’s the lovely Ruby going to come and take care of you then?” She stands back, arms folded across her chest.
“We’ve set the date for the wedding. It’s six weeks away…”
“But?” She narrows her eyes; Lizzie misses nothing.
“But she isn’t well, and her mom isn’t picking up the phone this morning.”
Saying it out loud seems to ram it home to me. I don’t know what’s wrong with Ruby, I’m relying on her mom—who hates me—to keep me updated, and I’m eight hundred miles away, staring at a bunch of numbers that will mean nothing to me if I don’t have Ruby in my life.
“Not well as in…?” This is Lizzie’s organizational skills breaking down the information and sorting it into bite-sized manageable pieces.
“That’s just it.” I shrug. “I don’t know. Ruby said it was nothing, and when I spoke to her mom last night, she told me not to worry—” Lizzie rolls her eyes at this bit “—and she would probably be feeling better this morning.”
“But you want to hear it for yourself.” It’s a statement rather than a question. She studies me carefully, weighing up her options, then says, “Look, if you’re really worried, why not call the hospital, and before you start panicking, if she has been admitted, you’ll know she’s in the best place. Then you’ll know what to do instead of sitting here wasting your time on an upside-down spreadsheet.”
I follow her gaze and realize that one of the spreadsheets I opened earlier is facing Lizzie. “Damn! You caught me out.”
“Harry Weiss, your face has always been an open book … unlike your father.” She mutters the last bit under her breath.
At the doorway between my office and her desk, Lizzie hesitates. “Call the hospitals now and let me know if I need to book a flight.”
She winks at me and disappears, but before I can pick up the handset, she buzzes back through. “Carlos Russo to see you. I’ll send him through.”
The big man appears shortly after, filling the space the way he always does. His gaze skims the graphs, spreadsheets, and documents on my desk, but he doesn’t sit down.
“My contact flew in from Saudi last night. He has asked me to schedule a meeting for midday, so I’ll ask Lizzie to add it to your diary.”
“Today?” I haven’t even looked at the five-year forecast yet.
“What can I say?” Carlos shrugs and spreads his hands wide. “He’s a busy man, and when he wants to hold a meeting, everyone else jumps.” He pauses, studying me carefully. “This is not the face of a man who is preparing to close on the deal of a lifetime. What’s up, my friend?”
I sigh. “Nothing.”
I force a smile. For all I know, Ruby had some kind of twenty-four-hour bug and is visiting her dad in the hospital right now, oblivious to my churning gut and overactive imagination. If I back out of this venture now, there won’t be a second chance.
“Midday. I’ll be there.”
I wait for Carlos to leave before calling the hospital in Chicago where Graham is currently being treated. I get transferred to his ward and speak to the duty nurse.
“He’s responding well to treatment.” It’s the standard response to an inquiry by someone other than a close relative.
“Is his daughter with him right now?” My heart flutters, eager to settle down as soon as I hear that Ruby is fine.
“No, he’s alone right now, sir.”
My stomach twists sickeningly. No one is with him. Celia and Ruby are not there, but they’re not answering the house phone, so where the hell are they?
My fingers hover over the buttons on the telephone. Call the hospital again and find out that Ruby’s condition is worse than Celia let on, or sit here and worry about her until one of them calls me back? Celia’s comment replays inside my head. “ I’m taking care of her .”
I hit redial before I can talk myself out of it.
When I get through to the switchboard, I ask if Ruby Jackson has been admitted during the last twenty-four hours.
“Can you please tell me her date-of-birth, sir?”
Shit! My brain scrabbles around trying to figure out Ruby’s year of birth on the spot. “Twenty-fourth December 1965.” Praying that’s correct.
The seconds tick by.
“Yes, Ms. Jackson was admitted via ER last night.”
My heart is pounding so violently I think I’m going to be sick. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have access to medical information, sir.”
“Can you put me through to the ward?”
“Transferring you now.”
I tap the desk with my thumb, my body a bundle of nervous energy. Why didn’t Celia let me know? Why did she play it down when Ruby’s condition had obviously deteriorated after I left Chicago?
The ward takes an eternity to pick up the phone. When they do, I introduce myself as Ruby’s fiancé. “How is she?”
“Ruby’s condition is stable at the moment.”
“Can you tell me what’s wrong with her?” Her condition is stable means nothing to me if I don’t know what’s going on.
“The doctors are still carrying out tests, sir.”
“Tests? What kind of tests? What does this mean?”
“I’m sorry I can’t give you any more information until we have the results, but she’s responding well to pain relief.”
Is this supposed to make me feel better? I feel so helpless. I shouldn’t have left Chicago yesterday morning. I should’ve taken care of her myself. We’re not even married yet, and I’ve already let her down.
“Can you please tell her I called. Harry Weiss. My name is Harry Weiss.”
The meeting takes place in a private suite of the Plaza Hotel. Carlos’s contact is tall, dark-skinned, with the classic looks of a Hollywood movie star. A young Omar Sharif. He gets straight down to business, talking us through his vision for the project, and shaking our hands warmly when we agree to proceed in just under an hour.
Then, we’re invited to dine with him. Four gourmet courses that we eat in his dining area, each course accompanied by the appropriate wine. Carlos already warned me that it would be offensive to refuse the meal, but I’m trying hard not to keep checking the time on my wristwatch.
When our client leaves the room briefly, Carlos’s eyes narrow in my direction. “Something is wrong. You’ve been like a deer in the headlights all afternoon. Is it the contract?”
“No.” Lizzie booked me a seat on the 4 p.m. flight to Chicago. It’s 3 p.m., and we’re still waiting for dessert to be served. “Ruby is sick. I’m supposed to be flying to Chicago to be with her, but I’m going to miss my flight.”
Carlos grins. “Today is your lucky day, Harry. My private jet is at your disposal. Once we’ve signed on the dotted line, I suggest you invest in one too.” His booming laughter fills the room.
I force myself to follow the conversation, to express interest in the guy’s new purebred stallion, and the home he is having built for his wife, but when we finally shake hands and say our goodbyes, I almost sprint out of the Plaza and into a waiting taxi.
Back in my apartment, I chuck clothes into my carry-on, and hurriedly listen to my messages.
“This is Talia Pagan. Nothing to report on your fiancée Ruby since she was admitted to the hospital last night, but I thought you might be interested in her mother’s movements. Seems Mrs. Jackson might be suffering from a touch of insomnia. Either that, or she was enjoying a secret rendezvous with her lover. And before you remind me that I don’t do cheating partners, this one is different. I’ll keep you posted.”
I stare at the phone. Celia Jackson has a lover?
No. I shake my head. Jumping to conclusions will achieve nothing, and I have more pressing concerns right now, like catching the Russo private jet and making sure for myself that Ruby is okay.
The second message is brief. “Mr. Weiss, I can accommodate you on Saturday morning at 10 a.m.”
I park this one for now. It’s important, but it can be rescheduled if I’m not back.
I head straight to the hospital when I reach Chicago. The receptionist points me in the direction of Ruby’s ward, and I take the stairs, wishing that I’d picked up some flowers en route. Too late now though.
Walking along the sterile white corridors, I’m reminded of my time spent in the same hospital. First me, then Graham, and now Ruby. It’s almost as if the building is playing its own role in our relationship, and while those few surreal days when we were snowed in will always hold a special place in my heart, I’ll be glad to move on from it.
My heart is thumping when I approach Ruby’s room. I don’t know what to expect. My mom had severe abdominal pains when she first got sick, and I don’t like that my brain is making me feel the way I did then, like a scared boy watching my mom deteriorate with every visit, getting sicker, frailer, weaker.
Stop it, I tell myself. Ruby is going to get better.
My fingers almost close around the handle when the door opens, and Celia steps out. She blinks, her gaze hardening when she sees me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to see Ruby.”
She blocks the door with her petite frame. “She’s sleeping. They’ve sedated her.”
“It’s okay. I’m happy to sit with her if you’re leaving.”
Whatever game she’s still playing, I’m catching onto the rules. She clearly doesn’t want to let me in, and I’m not leaving until I’ve seen Ruby.
“Visiting time is over.” She glances in the direction of the nurse’s station as if she might find a sign to back her up.
I smile. “I’ve cleared it with the staff.”
I reach around her for the handle, and she moves in front of it, showing her intention. “She’s been restless with all the tests. She needs to be left alone. I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted journey.”
“Oh, but I haven’t. I’ll stay in Chicago until Ruby is discharged, and then I’m taking her home with me.”
I don’t want to sink to Celia’s level, sniping at each other. But I’m not a child, and I will not let her stand in my way. She might have controlled her daughter’s life in the past, but I’m here now, and it has to end.
“We’ll see what Ruby has to say about that when she wakes up.” She stands her ground, her voice rising a notch.
“Will you step aside and let me in, or do I have to involve the staff?”
“What is going on here?” A nurse approaches us on silent, efficient footsteps and is watching us both, arms folded across her ample chest, as if she caught us squabbling on the school playground. “The patients are trying to sleep.”
“I just got in from New York,” I say before Celia can respond. “I’m here to see my fiancée, Ruby Jackson.”
The nurse’s eyes slide from me to Celia.
“I’m her mom. I tried telling him that she’s asleep.” Celia arches an eyebrow like she was trying to do the staff a favor by keeping me out.
“You just got in?” The nurse has kind eyes, huge and brown, and smooth dark skin. “Does she know you’re coming?”
“I left a message when I called earlier.”
Celia’s eyes widen momentarily, her chest rising and falling with the effort of trying to control her temper.
The nurse inclines her head towards Ruby’s door. “Five minutes. I’ll be back to throw you out myself if you’re still here.” She waits for Celia to move before heading back to the nurse’s station.
I enter Ruby’s room.
Her hair is fanned across the pillow, her eyes are closed, her skin pale and still clammy. I approach the bed, holding my breath so as not to wake her and incur the wrath of the nurse who was kind enough to let me in. Ruby’s hands are resting on top of the covers, and I smother them with mine, flinching when I feel how cold they are.
She looks peaceful—must be the sedatives they’ve given her. Still my Ruby despite the pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes.
“It’s okay, I’m here now,” I whisper. “I’m not going anywhere without you, I promise.”
I kiss her forehead, rest my head beside her on the pillow for five minutes and then let myself out without making a sound, telling myself that she’ll know I was here.