Chapter 50
Dirk
I’m awkward with the yellow roses. There weren’t enough at the first florist, so I visited a couple more and bought them out. The bunch is huge and it’s a mess. The final florist offered to rewrap them all for me, but I was in a rush.
On the passenger seat, I untie the first yellow ribbon and retie it around the lot.
Their stems are different lengths. The thorns prick my fingers.
Is this a suitable gift for someone in intensive care?
Too late, I remember the hospital won’t have a vase big enough.
This bunch will take up the whole bed tray.
It’s late; way past visiting hours, but Enrico on night reception recognizes me and lets me in.
“Doc O’Connell,” he says and salutes me.
“Enrico. How’s your family?”
“Three more grandkids, Doc.”
“Congratulations.”
“Know where you’re going?”
“Unless the wards have all changed.”
“No big changes, Doc.”
I sprint up the fire stairs, the ones I used when I needed to get through rounds in a hurry, or on the odd occasion when I had famous patients, and the media tried to grab me for comments.
I’m puffing by the time I reach the seventh floor. Lucy was right. We should walk together in the evenings. So what if I cry at the scent of orange blossom. So what if she sees my tears? More than anything, I want to share my memories with Lucy, and make more – many more – together.
The light’s still on in her room; just the lamp behind the bed. She leans back against the pillows in a hospital gown. Her eyes are closed as I reach the door, but they flutter open, their lenses dark, then brighter as she recognizes me.
I try to hide the blooms behind my back, suddenly shy, wondering if I’ve made a mistake. She was furious just before she had the attack. Will I be welcome?
“Dirk?” Her voice is croaky. She clears her throat and speaks again. “Doc O’Connell? You’re the last person I expected to see.”
“I need to apologize to you, Lucy.”
She has the grace to stay silent. I wouldn’t blame her for lashing out.
Is it wrong for me to be here? I don’t want to trigger another heart attack, but I’ve spoken to my colleagues.
As I suspected – Myocardial Infarction, the gradual narrowing of her arteries, and a heart attack brought on by intense stress.
She mentioned her mother died early, perhaps of this.
These days, patients are stabilized and given stents. Lucy’s likely to be fine now.
“May I come in?”
She nods.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, Lucy.”
Her silence punishes me. Where is her easy smile? But I deserve this. I lapped up her attention for weeks, for months. I batted her away, repelled her advances, used her when it suited me, then gave her a hard time about her job.
The chair is full of spare pillows and an extra blanket. I don’t want to lord it over her, so I drop to my knees beside the bed. An old injury sparks pain up my thigh and I close my eyes for a moment.
When I open them, her eyes are on mine, and I close mine again in relief. She hasn’t forced me out, not yet.
I hold up the roses.
“This is a ridiculous amount of roses, Dirk. What is this? Are you going into floristry?”
“I wanted to say sorry about the apartment – that you missed out – and to ask for a second chance.”
“A second chance?”
“What if we were on the same team, Lucy?”
Lucy shakes her head and closes her eyes. Her voice is faint. There’s no smile.
“You knew I wanted to buy that apartment, and you went ahead and bought it anyway,” she says.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me, Dirk. Donna told me you did. She has inside knowledge and she never lies to me.”
“Nor do I.”
“But ...”
“O’Connell is a very common name, Lucy. Oh. Wait a minute.” My phone vibrates. “I’ll take this. Back soon.”
“Dad?” It’s Jamison, his voice thick with excitement, with enthusiasm, with something I haven’t detected in him for far too long – with hope.
“Yes, son?”
“Where are you? I’ve got news. I did what you said, Dad. I made a decision about the Franklin house money, a sensible one. I did it straight up, before property prices rose again.”
“You did?”
“It was a no brainer. I’d already done the research – for you, when Dee and I recommended Brighton Court to you.
It’s a solid building in an up and coming area.
It’s all about urban renewal. For people wanting proximity to downtown or the buzz of theatre and restaurants, you can’t beat your location.
It’s already rented out, or I can live there myself for a while. Can’t go wrong.”
“Wait. You bought in Brighton Court?”
“Yeah. That place below yours. Made the winning offer this morning. All the paperwork’s come through now. It’s mine.”
“Ah.”
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me? I followed your advice, Dad.”
“Yes. In general, it’s good, son. Specifically ... Jamison. Can I call you back?”
“Sure, Dad.”
Lucy has sat up more in the hospital bed. She’s managed to comb her hair, and I breathe again, grateful she might still think I’m worth impressing.
Lucy Beston has always demanded my attention. My hand abandons my raspy chin and drifts through space to alight on her arm, smooth as alabaster, warm as the sun on my windowsill. I run my thumb back and forth against her creamy skin.
“You’re uncomfortable, Dirk. Pull up a chair. Or can’t you stay? Is this a passing effort, to appease your conscience?”
I’m not accustomed to Lucy being so still. Lucy’s a darter, a dodger – quick of mind and quick on her feet, always two steps ahead of everyone else. Lucy’s the element of surprise, the plotter and planner I never saw coming, the striker.
Even prostrate, Lucy’s striking. All five feet three of her. She wouldn’t take up much space but oh, how much color she has brought into my world.
Lucy’s earlobes are bare. No glitter today.
Even without makeup, she’s eye-catching – those high cheekbones, and a strength behind the set of her head, even as it is, on a hospital pillow – a kind of pride.
Lucy Beston is a survivor, a warrior. If I met her on the soccer field, I’d be wary, on my guard.
And something settles. I walked all afternoon. I haven’t been home. A new realization dawned that my visit has only confirmed. Lucy is awesome. She fills me with awe. With deep certainty, I know. If Lucy’s a player – and she is – I want her on my team. Always.
I go back down on my knee, but she blinks. For the first time, I fear she will turn her head away, dismiss me without a backward glance.
Lucy inhales and I am sucked forwards a quarter of an inch in the space between us. Her eyes are mesmerizing, liquid intelligence, full of soul. I can’t look away. It’s a standoff, even though she’s pretty much lying down. Her hair is fragrant – lime and coconut, a Hawaiian holiday.
I want more of that, more holiday, more Lucy, more Hawaii. We could go there, away from Dee and Jamison and Jill, and be on our own – together.
I see us on that cruise she mentioned, the one she bought at the auction at the ball, or at a beach or bar, beside the sea, relaxed, and Lucy laughing – not like this, serious and so still I wonder what’s wrong with her, besides her medical condition, which has stabilized.
I checked her chart on the way in. Is this an ultimatum?
My heart ticks up a notch or two, though neither of us has moved. She’s right. It’s like 1993; US versus Brazil, with one minute to the end of the game, and only Dirk the Doc O’Connell between national shame and victory. The save. My head. The goalpost.
“Lucy, I have to explain about the apartment. I’m sorry I haven’t been more available to you, as your apartment went up for sale.”
“You knew I wanted it, Dirk. I gave it everything. But you went ahead and trumped me. You are so competitive ... I just want somewhere to live; my own place to call home. For people like you, it’s just an investment. You already have a place to live. Two, in fact. As if you need more investments.”
“What? No. You still think I bought it? Why would I do that?”
“To punish me? For cleaning your place and not telling you? I don’t know. Not nice, Dirk. I’m in no position to stand up for myself. I don’t even know exactly what happened. What am I even doing here? Apparently you were there. Do you want to tell me?”
“You were furious with me – well, now I can understand why – but then you blacked out and fell. I tried to cushion your fall, but worse, your heart stopped. I gave you CPR and the kiss of life until the ambulance crew got you going again.”
“In the street?”
I nod, and she shakes her head, closes her eyes and opens them again, pinning me with her stare. Her laugh rings out.
“What is it?”
“Hard to be mad at you if you saved my life.”
“I’m a doctor, Lucy. It’s what doctors do.”
“I know. You’d ‘do it for anyone’ same as you’d bring up their groceries.” She turns her head away.
“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t glad to save you.”
“Oh. So you were ‘glad to save me?’”
“Yes.” If she’s fishing for compliments, I’m ready to oblige. “Brighton Court is far too quiet without you.”
“I’ll be gone for good as soon as I recover.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“Oh? You’ll take pity on me? Let me stay with you, or pay you rent? If I move in with you, I’ll only be able to stay until you tire of me and throw me out for a younger version; like Bart did.” She closes her eyes again, as if she’s disgusted with me.
“I’m not Bart. Hear me out, Lucy. I bungled things. I was wrong to attack you about the Mrs West thing, but I didn’t buy the apartment.”
“You didn’t?”
“Jamison did.”