Chapter 6

Rachel found herself staring out the window at the immaculate hospital grounds from her second floor vantage point. It was quite a bit overcast outside, however, and the palm trees were bending somewhat in the breeze. The weather definitely matched her mood, she reflected. The argument with her agent about having to back out of the calendar shoot because of her injuries and the need to take care of Hailey had really set her off, but then there were these.

Glancing down, she looked again at the photos in her hands. They were from Nigel. He had actually been in the lobby of the hospital when she came in. She'd already run the gauntlet of vultures outside and was focused on getting to the elevators when he called her name. She turned toward him, burning with fury and a deep desire to beat him to death with her purse. His apologetic demeanor and lack of a camera, not to mention the fact that one of his arms was in a sling, however, tempered that rage.

What he did have in his good hand, though, was a file folder. It contained several glossy 8x10s, he told her, along with a lot more photos stored on a memory card. All pictures he'd taken recently but didn't feel right selling now. Without another word, the man simply handed the plain manila folder to her and walked away. As surprising as that was, the real shock came when Rachel opened it. It was then she realized that the infamous Nigel Fletcher had just walked away from what was likely a small fortune, given the recent circumstances.

He was a man of tremendous talent, she conceded. Masterfully framed, crystal clear, and amazingly close up, the first photo captured the three of them in a moment of sheer joy and laughter on board the catamaran. Another was of her and Hailey alone, in a clearly intimate conversation, while a third was again of the three of them, this time standing at the rail holding hands. Flipping through the others, she could see they were all similar, except for the last few that were obviously somehow taken inside the pizza place.

She looked back at Terrance, lying there in the hospital bed. How frail he seemed – so different from the strong, vibrant man in the pictures ... and her dreams. Instead, he was here, still unconscious with numerous IVs dripping away, his left leg all bound up and suspended from a metal pole over the bed, his right with a light air cast on it, while a machine breathed for him. For Rachel, the photos seemed to intensify her sense of loss – of what could have been and might never be – but she appreciated Nigel's gesture. They were snapshots of a time she would treasure always.

Shaking her head in an effort to snap out of her melancholy, Rachel stepped back from the window and returned to the chair by his bed.

"Did I mention I talked to your mother again today?" she asked aloud as she sat down, knowing full well the only reply would be the rhythmic whir of the ventilator.

"She wanted me to tell you that she and your dad love you and that they'll get here as soon as they can. Unfortunately, they're caught in a major winter storm that's got St. Louis totally shut down."

Leaning forward, she smoothed out the sheet and untangled the call button, placing it where it was easier to reach. Not that he needed it at the moment.

"I've got Nina trying to set up the reservations, but evidently hundreds of people are stranded at the airport right now, so it might be a bit – probably not until Monday or Tuesday. Your folks can't even get out of the driveway. They still have power but your dad's not sure how much longer they'll even have that."

She paused and then laughed a bit. "Your dad told me about that ice storm when you were a kid," she explained with a chuckle. "I can just see you in your little snowsuit, sliding down those fallen trees coated in ice like they were slides. Your mom said you were so cute the way you kept rescuing your little dog every time he fell through the icy crust on the snow and disappeared."

Rachel reached out for his right hand and cradled it in her own, careful not to disturb the IV. It felt warm but not overly so. Turning it over, she ran her fingers in circular motions around his palm. His fingers seemed to twitch a bit in response, like they'd done earlier, but nothing more. The surgical resident had said to expect things like that, now that they'd backed off on his sedation.

"Hailey's been such a trooper, Rance. You would be so proud of her!" She smiled with her own pride and patted his hand with affection. "Personally, I think she's singlehandedly kept both her grandmothers from stroking out over this." Rachel paused again and the smile faded. "I'm worried about her, though. I think not being able to see you is wearing her down, slowly breaking her spirit. So, you'd better get to healing up so they can shift you to a regular room, buster!" she added with sudden fierceness.

About that time the ICU nurse responsible for Terrance came in with what appeared to be replacements for a couple of the IV bags suspended behind him. A thin, taller woman with graying hair, she set about making the exchanges with quiet efficiency.

"It's better his little girl hasn't been up to see him yet."

"What was that, Tracy?" The older nurse's voice had been very quiet, and while she had heard it clearly, Rachel was not all that clear as to what she meant.

"I was saying," she replied, still busy with the second IV pole, "it's probably for the best that his daughter hasn't been in to see him all hooked up like this, that's all."

"You think so?"

Tracy nodded. "I remember when my husband was in with pancreatitis and had to have emergency surgery. About scared me silly when I saw him afterwards, looking like death warmed over – especially with that ventilator stuck down his throat, breathing for him. I can only imagine what a sight like this would be for a little girl."

"Hmm, I hadn't thought of that," Rachel admitted but then fixed the other woman with a curious stare. "I have to say, though, I'm surprised. I would have expected you, being a nurse and all, would be used to seeing things like that."

Finished with her task, the nurse turned toward Rachel. "I wasn't a nurse then, but with Cal bouncing in and out of the ICU for almost two months, I got quite the education. After that, nursing school didn't seem too big a leap any more," she admitted with a shrug before walking toward the door. "But trust me – it'll be better for his little girl to wait and see him when he's awake and off that ventilator. Better for you too, because you'll actually be able to have a conversation."

With a look back, she offered her parting shot with a grin. "Though, I have to say, there is something to be said for a captive audience."

There was no way Rachel could refrain from giggling after that one. Nurses, particularly the ones she'd come to know in the ER and the ICU over the past few days, were an interesting breed. For the most part calm and collected, they were definitely the backbone of the hospital. But something she also discovered was that they frequently possessed a sharp sense of humor that popped up at the most unexpected times.

Thinking about Tracy and the other nurses she'd met, got Rachel thinking about her own career choices. The comparison, unfortunately, merely brought her own personal disenchantment into even greater contrast. Aside from the occasional USO trip or donation of time and money to a charity, her past work seemed rather vapid and meaningless at this point. From there, she found her mind wandering farther and farther into similarly introspective topics.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," she eventually told a still comatose Rance, her voice solemn and quiet. "If this were a chick flick, the three of us would be spending our days wandering around the islands, having the time of our lives. While our nights, I would hope, would be reserved for just you and me." She paused at the thought, but then went on.

"Oh sure, you'd be worrying about my public life getting in the way, and I would be worrying about ... well, I'm not really sure what I would be worrying about. Maybe about you leaving at the end of your vacation and treating me as a fond memory. But the story wouldn't end there because ... because we'd ... we'd be..." Her voice trailed off momentarily.

Suddenly Rachel's eyes narrowed and a tightness constricted her chest. "There's no hospital scene in that story, Terrance – no orthopedic surgeon, no ICU, and no damned ventilator either," she fumed. "So you need to wake up and fix this. Your little girl needs you... Te necesito."

The last admission, spoken in Spanish and that in a whisper, hung in the air. Rachel abruptly stood up and returned to the window. Nothing had changed, except for maybe a few more clouds.

How long she stood there, pouring out her heart in its own language, she didn't know. What she did know, after glancing at her watch, was that she was due to meet Chloe down in the lobby shortly. Chloe would spend the next few hours with Terrance while she and Hailey would go out and get some dinner together, just the two of them. Walking to the bedside, Rachel fussed a bit as she said goodbye, straightening his pillow and the like. Taking his right hand lightly in her own, she leaned over and kissed him softly on his forehead.

The squeeze of her hand by his as she turned to go, however, completely startled her. Her head jerked back, only to see his eyes blinking in panic, as his arms began to flail in discomfort. In a matter of seconds, the ventilator alarm went off as Terrance began to cough.