Chapter 30 Connor
CONNOR
I’m not sure how much time passes with me sitting by Cateline’s side when a nurse enters to check her vitals.
Her eyes flutter open and immediately land on me. “Hi.” Her voice is scratchy. “You showered and shaved.”
I nod because I don’t know what to say—the welling of emotion inside of me is still so strong I fear I might break apart if I open my mouth.
“Earlier, the doctor asked if I was in love with a caveman.” She smiles faintly.
The nurse in attendance laughs softly.
“I’m an idiot for taking you out there. I’m sorry, Cat.”
“You saved my life, Connor. Thank you.”
There were moments when I thought I had lost her. My world felt like it was ending. I can’t forgive myself.
“Everything looks good,” the nurse says. “The doctor will be in soon.”
The same surgeon I met earlier sweeps the curtains aside. “I’m Dr. Bradshaw. Our ballerina here is a very lucky lady. I’m going to explain the diagnosis and what transpired, but first, I have a few questions. You up for it?”
Cateline nods, her eyes widening with attention.
Dr. Bradshaw glances over at me as though noticing me for the first time. “Are you the same guy I met earlier?” He points in the direction of the waiting area.
“Yes, sir. I’m Connor Wolfe.” I extend my hand to shake. “Thank you for everything, sir.” Even though I speak with feeling, the words aren’t sufficient for the doctor’s service.
“You took my recommendation for a shower very seriously. Nice to see you again in your improved state.” He doesn’t come off as insulting but rather relieved that he’s not dealing with an actual beast, or leaving someone as perfect as Cateline in its care.
Color rises on her cheeks as if she appreciates it too.
“Miss Berghier, I understand you grew up in France. When you were a child, did you have frequent sore throats or cases of strep? In rare instances, these can lead to heart murmurs, which can cause different issues within the organ.”
“I did have sore throats, yes. I’m not sure the word for strep, though.”
I do a quick search on my phone and show her the translation. I’d tease her all day for not knowing the expression guinea pigs, but there is nothing funny about this.
“Yes. I do recall having that.”
“Does rheumatic fever mean anything to you?” The doctor explains, while I look up that translation as well.
For the next few minutes, the doctor explains that she experienced a problem with an artery, preventing adequate blood flow.
“Your records indicate, and your account of what happened maintains, that you had no knowledge of a preexisting condition. You are otherwise in excellent shape health-wise, so, understandably, you’d not be aware.
To that end, you’re lucky because the procedure we performed was minimally invasive. ”
I exhale a long breath.
“I have to ask, have you been experiencing irregular heartbeats or shortness of breath? Anything like that?” the doctor asks.
“Yes. I thought it was stress and maybe my heart trying to tell me something.” Her gaze lands on me. It’s soft and full of feeling.
“Further testing will confirm my suspicions, but I think what we’re dealing with developed over a long period of time, perhaps starting with a case of strep.
It’s rare, especially here in the United States, but since you didn’t grow up here, I can’t speak for all communities’ prevention and treatment protocols. ”
“Will I be able to dance again?” Cateline asks.
My eyebrows lift with surprise.
The doctor pats her leg. “Absolutely. Your heart is going to be as strong as ever. Another day recovering here and then you’ll gradually work your way back up with increased movement and exercise.
You’re young and otherwise healthy, so I imagine you should be feeling relatively back to normal in another couple of weeks. ”
“Thank you, Dr. Bradshaw,” Cateline says.
I get to my feet and shake the doctor’s hand before stepping outside the curtain.
“You want to know if she’ll be okay?” Dr. Bradshaw asks.
Scrubbing my hand through my hair, I nod.
“It’s understandable that you’re shaken up. What happened would’ve occurred no matter where you were—camping or on vacation elsewhere. Getting her in the helicopter rather than an ambulance might have made all the difference. But yes, she’ll be fine.”
“I owe you.” I want to give the man who’d truly saved Cateline’s life more than a selfie or season tickets.
“Just doing my job.” He pats me on the back. “And you make sure you do yours and win the next Super Bowl. I have a bet with a buddy with your name riding on it.”
I crack a smile. “Will do, sir.”
The next few days consist of rest and recovery as Cateline’s energy slowly returns. We spend hours talking and I learn about her past—she’s whip-smart and was born into a relatively poor family.
“My mother thought dancing would give me more opportunities in life. She sacrificed everything and sent me to the premier dance academy in the country. They wanted me to marry a dancer named Gaston and for us to go on to be ballet greats. But that wasn’t what I wanted—I was hungry for something else, knowledge.
Eventually, I had to choose. Dance or education.
I’d have done what my parents wanted me to do, but I’d ruin my body.
I’d be forced to retire young. Quick money, prestige, fame. But a flash. No longevity.”
I recall her asking about my future prospects. “I guess that’s sort of like football.”
“But you can go on to do other things in the sports world. It’s different in ballet.
I had to choose. I worked three jobs, paid my way through school.
..and haven’t really danced or spoken to my parents at all in ten years.
” Her voice cracks. “I was a small-town girl, raised the old-fashioned way, and sheltered. I left. I broke all the rules.”
“Do you miss dancing?” I know the answer since it was one of the first things Cateline asked the doctor when she woke up.
“Terribly.”
“Your parents?”
“Every day.”
“We’re not much different. But I suppose we made different choices. I picked football. Broken body, young retirement. Then what?” I hope whatever it is includes Cateline.
In the meantime, I know exactly where I’ll take her once she is well enough to travel.