Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
“Maeve!” Brodie jumped out of his plastic hospital chair when he saw her. He looked dreadful. Tired, stressed, hair all over the place, eyes dark. “What’s going on? What’s happening.”
“I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know, Brodie,” she said, as she came out of the ER.
It had been a shock when Emmett Carter was brought in with a heart attack. He wasn’t Maeve’s patient, but she’d kept an eye on what was happening, making extra special sure that he was given the best care.
The first opportunity she had, she went out to see the Carters, uncertain who would be there waiting.
Surprised when the first person she saw was Brodie.
It meant he must have been nearby when it happened, back in Autumn Falls.
The thought occurred to her, but she filed it away for later, not appropriate right then to be thinking about what—if anything—was going on between them.
Her message had been read but remained unanswered.
If it wasn’t for the current circumstances, she might feel foolish in front of him for sending it.
Logan was there, too, and Noah. Martha was in her Silver Pantry apron, clutching a Kleenex in her hands, trembling lips pressed together.
Maeve hated it, seeing them all like this, not being able to say anything to make it better. “The next twenty-four hours are critical.”
Brodie nodded, eyes alert like they were absorbing every little detail, every scrap of knowledge. She found herself wanting to touch him, put her hand on his arm, maybe round his neck, hold him close.
It was Logan who said, “Is he going to be okay, Maeve?”
“I can’t tell you that, Logan, I’m sorry.”
Martha let out a small sob and Noah put his arm around her.
“All I can say is that they’re doing everything they can. He’s in the best hands.” Maeve could picture Emmett, ghostly pale. Suddenly a shadow of a man.
“Thanks, Maeve,” Brodie said, looking at her gratefully. “We really appreciate it.”
“I’m sorry that I can’t give you any more news than that.”
Brodie shook his head. “Just you being here is a relief.”
Maeve smiled. He looked so pained and tired. “I’m sorry, Brodie.”
He put his hand on her arm and steered her away from the others. “It’s me that’s sorry,” he said, when they were out of earshot. “I’m sorry I left. I got spooked. I panicked. I’m sorry—”
Maeve cut him off. “Don’t, Brodie, you don’t have to say any of this now.
” She tilted her head as she looked at him, ashen-faced and distracted.
She had been mad with him for disappearing, but all she could see was his fear for his father.
The futility of life right there in front of them made it almost impossible to look at him with anything other than tenderness.
“Just concentrate on your dad. Don’t worry about me or Zoey, we’re okay. ”
He took in a shaky breath, then he smiled appreciatively and she saw a little of the old Brodie. “Thanks.”
She smiled softly back. “Stay with your family,” she said, before returning to the ER.
* * *
The next time Maeve saw Brodie, she was on a break. Emmett was in surgery.
All the family were sitting in the waiting room, with various expressions of concern. Ren was there now, sitting with Noah, wearing her paint-splattered dungarees.
When Maeve appeared, all their heads shot up when she came out like she could give them some golden-ticket answer when all she could say was, “The surgeon doing the operation, he’s one of the best there is at what he does. Emmett couldn’t be in better care, I promise.”
It wasn’t much, but even just those words seemed to give them a little of the reassurance they craved.
She was about to go back, but instead, a little apprehensive, she went and took a seat next to Brodie. “You okay?”
It was weird not seeing him all smiles. “I would like to talk to him, you know? I don’t want what we had to be it,” he said.
She nodded. “I know.”
They sat side by side for a moment, then Maeve plucked up all her courage and reached across and took hold of his hand. Threaded her fingers through his, palms touching, skin against skin.
She saw him glance at her and then look down at their entwined fingers. For a second, she feared he would pull away, that it was the wrong move; too close, too intimate. Then she felt him grip tighter, holding on like it meant everything.
Time ticked by. She sat beside him for as long as her break would allow. His brothers kept getting up, Logan pacing, Noah going outside for fresh air. Martha sat with her hands clasped, resting her forehead against them.
Suddenly, the door flew open and their little sister, Willow, rushed in. A cloud of wild chestnut curls, wearing leggings, cropped T-shirt, and an oversize green cardigan, she’d obviously been crying, her face was all red, eyes puffy. “Is he alive?”
Logan stalked over to greet her. “He’s in surgery, Willow.”
She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Logan wrapped his arms protectively around her.
“I came as soon as I heard.” Willow gasped for breath as she spoke, moving away from Logan when she saw her mom, going over to sit by her side, hold her close. “Are you okay, Mom?”
“I’m okay. I knew he was working too hard. I knew I should have made him slow down. I knew something wasn’t right.”
“Mom,” Willow said, “no one can tell Dad what to do.”
That made Martha laugh sadly. “I know, I know. Why does he have to be so stubborn?” She wiped a tear away.
“Maybe he’ll slow down after this,” Willow comforted.
Martha patted her hand. “Maybe.” But they all seemed to know how precarious after this was.
Brodie covered his eyes with his hand.
Maeve gave his other hand a squeeze. He glanced her way and smiled. “Thanks for being here.”
“It’s kinda my job,” she joked.
He smiled again. “You know what I mean.”
She nodded, looking into those beautiful, sad eyes and felt like she was one step on the dangerous tightrope between them, desperately hoping she wasn’t about to fall.