Chapter 7 July - Magdalene & Sam & Neve （Again, Not That Way）
JULY: MAGDALENE & SAM & NEVE (AGAIN, NOT THAT WAY)
“What do you mean hospitalized?”
Magdalene felt the pen slip from her suddenly numb fingers, even as the other hand gripped the cell phone harder. The quiet voice on the other end of the line was calm, deceptively steady, because she knew of all the people, Vivian had a different kind of stake in this relationship.
Not that Magdalene envied it. Vivian was simply better at weathering this particular hurricane.
Still, she cared for Neve Blackthorne in ways she could not entirely explain.
The woman just had that effect on everyone blessed to have gotten her attention.
She sucked them into her orbit, shared her light, her power, her chaos, and then suddenly you were saddled with a group of people who were loyal and true and who would come to your bedside in the middle of the night.
Magdalene guessed it was her turn for the middle of the night bedside thing. Even as she got up from her desk, her home office bathed in the cozy low light of the long string Sam kept insisting on adding bulbs to, her wife opened the door with an expression that probably mirrored her own.
Sam took her in, those ever-seeing eyes, the eyes Magdalene had loved for over a decade now, the eyes she had cherished.
The eyes she turned to in every hard crushing moment, watched her closely, and she knew exactly the second Sam read her mood and pinpointed it with precision born out of love, and out of knowing.
Knowing Magdalene like no one ever. There was something to that kind of knowing, something profoundly comforting, yet also disconcerting.
Simply because Sam could then go on to say things like:
“Vivian called you.”
Yes, that pinpoint precision. Still, Magdalene loved and knew her wife just as well.
“And Jamie called you.”
Sam smiled, the corners of her full mouth tilting up mirthlessly.
“Yes, she has the plane idling at National for us. It’s back from Paris after picking up Juliette and Katarina. Dr. Moore is on her way from LA.”
Magdalene gave in and rolled her eyes. This seemed a little much.
“Vivian said it was routine, Sam.”
Sam nodded, then enveloped her in one of those all-encompassing hugs, hugs that went on for eternity, hugs that Magdalene never wanted to leave.
“I imagine Neve thinks the same and will give everyone grief for even bothering to come to New York, but you know, if this were you, she’d be the first to stalk the hallways of Presbyterian, demanding you get the best care possible.”
The image made Magdalene laugh. Yes, her Jimmy Choos would be taking quite a beating along those hospital floors.
Yes, those poor folks at Presbyterian hospital would not forget Neve Blackthorne soon.
She may be a pain in the ass, and Magdalene had to contend with quite a lot from the Wicked Witch of Tinseltown as Secretary of Education, but Neve was her pain in the ass, and that made it all okay.
Neve lobbied hard, often and efficiently, so while Magdalene didn’t always appreciate the means, the goals were admirable.
And above all, they were friends. And friends boarded planes at ungodly hours and got into cars that took them to hospitals that knew no peace, and then stood in front of a small crowd of other concerned people, equally sleepy and tired and listened carefully to what Audrey had to say.
While Neve might’ve been who this was all about, the one hurting the most was the willowy woman with wild mahogany hair and red eyes, swaying a little on her exhausted feet, all the while maintaining a stoic face.
“We just don’t know. It was only a cholecystectomy and then…”
Audrey trailed off, and Vivian, already holding her arm, hugged her closer, preempting the additional swaying.
“And the doctors are saying what exactly?” Magdalene heard her own voice and marveled at how something so shrill could’ve come out of her mouth.
It was Chiara, the soothing notes of her tone suddenly grating more than calming, who stepped closer, laying a cool hand on her forearm.
“Two of them came out about an hour and a half into the procedure, which had already been about thirty minutes longer than expected, to tell us she had developed complications with anesthesia and there also might be some bleeding—”
Magdalene lifted a finger, and Chiara raised an eyebrow at the interruption. Magdalene winced at her own rudeness.
“Apologies,” even as she spoke, Chiara was regaling her with a beatific smile and waving her concerns away.
Still, Magdalene had questions. “She went in for a gallbladder removal and has been in there now… How long exactly? Because mine was out in 45 minutes, and I forgot I ever had a damn gallbladder to begin with.”
Another hand landed on her forearm, Sam’s skin warm on hers, and Magdalene realized her voice was raised a bit louder than necessary. In fact, she should just sit down. And be quiet. Audrey didn’t need any of these outbursts. Audrey needed information.
Magdalene lifted her eyes, catching about six different pairs watching her closely and then, unable to follow her own advice and rest, turned around and left the room, throwing a careful, “I’ll get us some answers,” before closing the door behind herself.
Sam’s cheerful—too cheerful to be anything but fake and desperately trying to smooth the situation—“If anyone will come back with news, it would surely be a Cabinet member” trailed off as the conversation picked up on the other side of the door.
She walked briskly towards the reception, an already harried looking nurse giving her the stink eye.
It was perhaps that wary look that made Magdalene slow down her steps and stop scowling.
Then she stopped in her tracks altogether.
The damn surgery was ongoing. They’d tell them when they’d tell them.
Every fucking person in this hospital was probably well aware who they were operating on.
Magdalene nodded to the nurse who was still eyeing her carefully and headed towards the coffee machine, programming two.
Paying for coffee after scaring this woman was the least she could do.
As the mechanics behind the faintly smelling coffee beans coughed and hiccuped, she looked around, only to catch another sharply dressed woman, her facial expression similar to Magdalene’s, beelining for the now even more concerned nurse.
Magdalene set the hot coffee cups gingerly on the nurses’ station, smiled apologetically and then took two steps, purposefully colliding with the newcomer.
“Out of my way— Oh, Madam Secretary. My apologies.”
The voice had a touch of abruptness to it, but the second recognition dawned in the eyes of the most ridiculous—and Magdalene could think of no other way to describe the color—blue, it melted into something reminiscent of molten steel. Deceptively soft. Even more deceptively warm.
“Livia—” The silvery blonde hair was flicked back, but Magdalene had already placed both the eyes, the panty-dropping voice and the woman herself.
“Sabran-McMillan.” Magdalene finished the introductions herself, and since Livia seemed fully apprised of who she was, added nothing else.
To her credit, Livia did not shrivel under the Headmistress’s stare.
Magdalene still used it despite no longer being on Dragons.
It served her just as well in Washington.
Livia was unfazed. Which was interesting.
Neither did Livia back away. She didn’t seem at all embarrassed at having been bodily prevented from advancing.
The silver coif was once again flicked back, the azure gaze narrowed speculatively, and a hip was cocked.
Magdalene held back the urge to roll her eyes again.
The way this night was going, she’d sprain them.
“It’s been a while since I was ogled quite so blatantly, Ms. Sabran-McMillan.”
Magdalene sighed and moved to the side, letting people around them do their jobs without giving them a wide berth.
“If this were any other occasion, or if the circumstances had been just a tiny bit different, I’d say that there is something wrong with everyone who lays eyes on you. But since the circumstances are what they are, I think I’ll keep all of that to myself.”
Magdalene bit her lip to hide her smile, but the joke, the flirting, the blatant way Livia was looking at her, the sheer exuberance on display, the power of those eyes… Some poor woman somewhere would one day lose her very soul to this one.
And therein was the truth. Magdalene, despite trouble brewing, the lateness of the hour, and the absolute gall and cheek of this person, did not feel insulted. She felt flattered and complimented. The genuineness in Livia Sabran-McMillan was something to behold.
Neve had mentioned her many times. As the Chairwoman of Gannon, Livia held both power and money and considerable sway in certain echelons.
What was more important was that Neve, despite her prickliness, her aloofness, her introversion and her stubborn decision to not let anyone in, liked this woman.
“I assume you’re here for her?”
Livia’s face transformed in an instant, all flirtation gone, concern washing away every trace of lightheartedness.
“How is she? I flew out as soon as I was informed.” Livia let a doctor and nurse pass before moving closer to Magdalene.
Something deceptively floral and light wafted from her, and Magdalene thought how clever of a maneuver even the perfume was.
Livia was all playfulness, but there was a sharp dagger underneath the silk sheath.
“I had no chance to inquire yet. I admit I was headed towards the nurses’ station, head full of steam when I realized what the hell I was doing. And then I had to stop you from doing the same.”
Livia’s laughter was soft, melodic, and again reminded Magdalene of a panther playing with its food.