“The results of the most recent CAT scan don’t indicate any permanent damage.”
How many times had he heard that? The words no longer had the power to pacify him. His frustration, built up over a period of days, finally boiled over. “Then why the hell is she still unconscious?” he demanded angrily. “That can’t be a good sign. Surely she should be responding to treatment by now. Maybe the bottom line here is that you don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”
The doctor faced him calmly, with only the merest hint of irritation in his dark eyes. “Sometimes unconsciousness is just nature’s way of giving a person more time to heal before getting back to the real world. The subconscious has a way of giving the body what it needs to cope. Obviously Miss Dennison needs this rest.”
He gave Riley an especially pointed look and suggested, “Perhaps she was under some strain before she was attacked.” Then he added blandly, “Is that possible, Mr. Walker?”
“Yes.” Riley bit out the word through gritted teeth. “She was very angry with me.”
“Ah,” the doctor murmured. “I see.”
“I doubt it,” Riley said dryly. The doctor could not possibly guess from examining this placid, unconscious woman exactly how rebellious Abby truly was or how furious she had been with him. “If I’m the problem, maybe I should take off. Get her mother down here or something.”
Even as he spoke the words, Riley saw them as the excuse to flee that he’d subconsciously been searching for. Sitting here hour after hour, day after day, he was in danger of going back on all of the rules he’d set for himself. He was in danger not of falling in love—he’d done that years ago—but of acting on his feelings. Leaving now, before it was too late, would definitely be the smart thing to do. All he needed was an honorable excuse for doing it.
“Look,” he said. “I don’t want to upset her. I can have someone else here with her by the end of the day.”
Apparently unaware of Riley’s need for an escape, the doctor shook his head. “Unnecessary, I think. Whatever your differences, she seems to respond to you. She just needs more time, Mr. Walker. Time and rest. Healing cannot be put on such a rigid timetable.”
Riley didn’t buy that. Those sounded like the words of a man who didn’t have a clue what the real explanation for Abby’s unconsciousness was. “Can’t you do something to hurry things along?” he asked, no longer worried about insulting the doctor. “Maybe it’s time we transferred her back to the States to another specialist.”
Even as he said it, he realized it was the perfect solution to his problem. With Abby back in Phoenix, there would be all sorts of people around to maintain this bedside vigil. He could take off, running as he always had from commitment. He could go without feeling as if he were abandoning her. Already he was ready to renege on his promise to be there for her always, he thought with a certain amount of self-disgust. That was just further proof that he was a lousy bet. Always for him rarely lasted more than a few hours.
“What about Phoenix?” he suggested to the doctor. “We could find a neurologist there, get her the best care. Maybe it’s time for a second opinion.”
The doctor appeared to take no offense. “That can be arranged if you wish,” he said.
He spoke in that unruffled manner that usually soothed Riley just as it was intended to do. Today, however, it only proved damnably irritating. He was about to tell him to make the arrangements, when the doctor held up a cautioning hand.
“I assure you it isn’t necessary, Mr. Walker. She will recover in her own time here as well as there. You cannot rush such things.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime?” Riley snapped.
The doctor met his gaze evenly. “Do you have some place more important you must be?”
There were a dozen answers Riley could have given, jobs that were waiting, but more important than Abby’s recovery? No, none of them were more important than that. He sighed.
“No,” he said at last.
“Then wait, Mr. Walker,” the doctor told him quietly. “We can wait. And you can keep talking to her.”
“How do I know she can even hear me?”
“Maybe she can, maybe she can’t,” he said bluntly, an edge of impatience in his voice that possibly came from having had to give the same answer so often. “But we’re monitoring her vital signs and she seems calmer when she hears your voice. It is clearly important that she knows you are still here by her side. She seems reassured by that.”
For the first time in the past ten terrible days, Riley felt a vague stirring of hope. When he had dared, he had thought as much himself. If he had the power to soothe her, perhaps she was no longer quite so furious about his high-handed plans to send her back to Arizona. Perhaps she was even ready and willing to go, now that she’d had a little firsthand experience with danger.
They would talk about it, he vowed. He wouldn’t be quite so high-handed. Abby would be reasonable. He almost chuckled at the unlikelihood of that. Still, they could try to work out a satisfactory compromise. At the moment he had no idea what that might be.
The doctor leaned over the bed again, lifted her eyelids and shone his tiny flashlight into Abigail’s blue eyes, then nodded in satisfaction.
“Talk, Mr. Riley,” he advised one last time and left.
* * *
Abigail awoke to a blinding light shining in her eyes. The sun! Such a brilliant light could only be the sun, she thought with delight.
It was hot as blazes...and dry, she determined with some delight. No salty air. No draining humidity. No rolling deck beneath her.
