“This is my fault.” Julia chewed at her bottom lip again. “God is punishing me, I just know it.”
“Julia.” Claire’s voice, though heavy with fatigue, was sharp. “I won’t even allow you to go there. God doesn’t hand out heart attacks or anything else as punitive measures. That’s your father talking in your head, bullying you and your mother. Stop it right now. In no way are you responsible for this.” She shook her head. “I was surprised to discover Charles has a heart at all.”
“Claire! My God!”
“I know, I know. Don’t speak ill and all that garbage. But I will not permit you to take this on yourself. Charles is a big boy. He knows enough to take care of his health. Whatever happened is on him. And you deserve to have a good life without him.”
“But not this way.” An image of Luke flashed in her brain, his warm smile, his dark eyes. She’d been so excited at the possibility of a future with him. Apparently, Fate had decided to punish her for looking to a new future. Her emotions were a mixture of anger and depression. Why me? she wanted to cry out. Hadn’t she done enough penance for making such a poor choice the first time?
The weight of guilt pressed heavily on her. She’d gone from one man’s loving, virile arms to another’s critical condition in a few short hours. She couldn’t separate her stolen happiness from the unfolding disaster.
“What’s going on now?” She looked around for someone to ask. “I need to find out what his situation is. Can I see him?”
“Come. I’ll take you to the CICU. Then we’ll get them to page Rombauer.”
But before they could enter the CICU, they were confronted by Rod McGuire, looking like a thundercloud come to life. He planted himself in front of Julia, rage burning in his eyes. She had a feeling if he could get away with it he’d kill her on the spot.
“It’s about damn time,” he ground out. “I stayed until you finally got here. I’m just thankful Charles was with someone when this happened.”
Just what she needed, the devil himself. Julia clenched her fists, digging for some semblance of control.
“Thank you for taking care of things, Rod. I appreciate it.”
He glared at her. “Maybe if you’d been here with him instead of who the hell knows where, none of this would have happened.” His eyes were like twin flames. “They won’t let me in because I’m not family, but I told the cardiologist I’ll be calling regularly for updates. Someone has to make sure Charles is being cared for properly. And you’d better not shirk your damn responsibilities.”
“Rod, I—”
“Stop it, Rod.” Claire took Julia’s arm and dragged her away. “She doesn’t need this right now. We’ll keep you informed.”
“Oh, God.” Julia was glad for Claire’s physical support. The force of Rod’s verbal attack nearly fractured her.
“Forget him,” Claire told her in a furious whisper. “And pay no attention to anything he said. He’s a jackass, just like I always thought. Come on, let’s find out what’s going on.”
The CICU was a row of cubicle-like rooms. Each one glass-fronted, to give the nurses at the central station an unimpeded view of the patients. Nurses in scrubs of various colors either sat at the long central console or moved about in the patients’ rooms performing required tasks. Unconsciously, Julia wrinkled her nose against the acrid, medicinal smell—common to hospitals—permeating the area.
“May I help you?” One of the nurses approached quietly, and without seeming to, effectively blocked their path.
“This is Julia Patterson, Charles Patterson’s wife.” Claire waved sketchily in the general area of Charles’s bed. “She’s just arrived from the airport and would like to see her husband.”
“Of course.” The nurse turned to Julia. “We’ve been expecting you. Dr. Rombauer left a message to page him as soon as you arrived. Let me take you in to your husband, then I’ll make the call.”
“Thank you.” Julia bit her lip. “Will… Will he know I’m here?”
“He might.” She smiled. “Even if they’re heavily medicated it helps for them to have human contact. Touch his hand. He’ll sense it. Come on. I’ll take you to him.”
Claire squeezed Julia’s arm. “I’ll wait outside. I don’t want to see him, anyway. I might be tempted to finish him off myself.”
“Claire!” Julia protested.
“Go on, sweetie. Do your thing. I’ll wait for you over there.” Claire indicated some chairs against a far wall.
“Okay. And…thanks.”
Charles was in the cubicle at the absolute center of the area. The nurse led Julia to a place beside his bed and slid a chair over for her to sit in.
“He looks so still.”
The nurse nodded. “He’s been given a lot of medication to keep him sedated. Right now it’s best for him. I’m sorry, the most we allow for visiting is five minutes at a time. The doctor should be here by then, however.”
Julia stared at him, lying there silent and pale, surrounded by a variety of machines that beeped, dinged, or fed fluids into his system. His blond hair was uncharacteristically rumpled, his face drawn and darkened by an emerging stubble of beard. He looked almost shrunken in the ubiquitous hospital gown, as still as if life had already left him behind. She might not love him any longer but seeing him in this condition she could at least have empathy for what happened.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyelids. Fatigue, she told herself. And despair at the downturn her life had taken once again. She’d stopped crying over Charles years ago.
His chest rose and fell evenly, and if not for the lines of pain etched deeply on his face and the vast array of technology keeping him alive, she might have thought him
