Season Of Strangers. Kat MartinЧитать онлайн книгу.
There was so much ahead of him. So much to learn, so much to explore. Of chief concern was the Ferris female. In the next few hours, he would search Patrick Donovan’s memory banks for every thought, every recollection of the woman the man had ever had. Soon he would begin, but not yet.
Instead Val closed his eyes and willed his turbulent thoughts to rest. He would start with something else, something that would help his host’s battered body regain the strength it needed. Something he could do right here in this quiet, barren room. He would begin by experiencing the phenomena humans called sleeping. He closed his eyes and allowed the sensation to begin.
Alexander Donovan gripped the sides of his wheelchair as it rolled down the busy corridors of Cedar Sinai Hospital pushed by Nathan Jefferson Jones, the big ex-football tackle who served as his male nurse. The pair made an odd combination, Alex thin and frail with a leonine mane of snowy hair; Nathan, brawny, bulging with muscle, his head completely shaved and as shiny and black as a bowling ball.
While Alex was left-brained and fixated on work even after the stroke his stressful life had caused, Nathan lived for the moment, always smiling, cheery in the face of nearly any adversity. Keeping Alex going when he sometimes so badly wanted to just give up and let the good Lord take him away.
“There’s Julie, Mr. D.” Nathan pointed down the corridor. “I figured she’d be waiting right there, in front of Patrick’s door.”
Alex shifted in his wheelchair, relaxed a little when he saw the small, red-haired figure beside the door to his son’s hospital room. Things were always better when Julie was around.
“Alex! I’m so glad you’re here.” She hurried toward him, walked over and hugged him hard. He could only hug her back with one arm, but it felt good to absorb her warmth and reassuring strength.
“How is he? Have you seen him yet?” The words came out a little slurred, since one side of his mouth didn’t move, but Julie had grown used to his affliction and easily understood.
“I peeked in on him as soon as they would let me, but Patrick was sleeping. Babs was here with me until just a few minutes ago. She had to leave for an appointment but she stayed until the doctor came. He says the news is all very good.”
“Thank God,” Alex said, his bent frame sagging with relief. Standing next to his chair, Julie absently rubbed her temple. Alex frowned, worried she might be getting another of her recent migraine headaches.
She smiled, but it looked a little forced. “How about you? Are you okay?”
“By the time you called, Patrick was already out of danger. I suppose I should be angry that you didn’t call me sooner, but I know why you did it, and my doctor would probably argue you did the right thing.”
“I didn’t want to upset you any more than I had to. I did what Patrick would have wanted me to do.”
Just then Dr. Manley, the cardiologist who had been caring for Patrick, walked up, a slight, dark-haired man wearing spectacles and a long white lab coat. “You’re Alex Donovan, Patrick’s father?”
“That’s correct. And this is Ms. Ferris, a close family friend.”
“Ms. Ferris and I have already met,” the doctor said.
“What can you tell us, Dr. Manley? What has happened to my son?”
“First let me say that your son can look forward to a full recovery. I want you to know that right from the beginning so that as we speak, you won’t be unduly upset.”
“I understand your concern for my health, Doctor, but Julie has already spared me the worst of it. Now if you will, I’d like you to tell me exactly what you know.”
The doctor glanced down at the papers on the clipboard he held in a pair of elegant, long-figured hands. “At exactly 11:45 a.m. this morning your son suffered a massive myocardial infarction. We believe it was drug-induced, a toxic reaction that usually occurs from an overdose, but in this case was caused by an accumulation of drugs taken over a number of years in smaller, but still harmful doses.”
He glanced down at the chart. “The drugs produced hemorrhage and cardiac arrhythmias. Cardiac dysfunction occurred, causing damage to the ventricle and the adjacent portion of the inter ventricular septum, which at first we believed might be too extensive to repair, or that by the time we were ready to operate, it would be too late.”
The doctor studied a note on the paper, then looked up. “Fortunately, once your son reached the hospital and we began our series of tests, we discovered the damage to the wall of the heart was minimal. The electrocardiogram showed surgery wasn’t necessary after all.”
Alex said nothing for the longest time, but his insides felt knotted up inside him. He had known about Patrick’s drug use for years, but his son had never been an addict. Alex had tried to convince himself Patrick would eventually mature, assume more responsibility, and outgrow his fascination with alcohol and drugs. Obviously, that hadn’t happened.
Alex felt defeated in a way even his stroke had not accomplished.
“How long will he have to stay in the hospital?” he asked.
“A couple of days. He’ll need to take it easy after that for several weeks—and he’ll have to stay off drugs.”
“Of course,” Alex replied automatically. But in his heart, he knew his wayward son never would.
“Perhaps he’ll slow down a little now,” Julie said gently. “People can change, you know, even people like Patrick.” But the look in her pretty green eyes said she didn’t really believe it any more than he did.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to excuse myself,” the doctor said. “There’s another patient I have to see before I leave. If you have any questions, I’ll be in my office tomorrow.”
Alex watched him walk away, took a steadying breath and turned toward Julie. “Shall we go in and see him?” he asked with tender affection.
He had known Julie Ferris for the past eight years, had been her mentor in the real estate business and come to love her like the daughter he never had. He knew she cared a great deal for his son. But not enough to overlook his many failings. Even Alex couldn’t hope for that.
Julie took hold of his thin, veined hand, lacing her fingers through his. As Nathan shoved his wheelchair through the door, he noticed how tired she looked, the tight, strained lines around her mouth. It appeared as if she had slept in the wrinkled pink linen suit she wore. Perhaps for a time she had.
Julie held the door so Nathan could push him into the room. Surprisingly Patrick’s eyes were open when they walked in.
Julie left Alex’s side and moved toward him, clasped one of his dark hands in her own. “We’ve been so worried. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” He smiled at her, but it looked strained and unsteady. “I’m glad you’re here. I should have known you…would be.” The words sounded rough, husky, as if he had trouble forcing them out.
“Your father’s here, too.” Julie stepped back as Nathan wheeled Alex closer to the bed.
“I got here as soon as I heard,” he said. “Julie was playing protector. She didn’t call me until she knew for sure you’d be all right.”
Patrick smiled again, a little less stiffly this time. “She spends more time watching out for other people than she does watching out for herself.”
“Are you kidding?” Julie squeezed his hand. “If I didn’t have someone to look after, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”
“You can look after me any time you like,” Patrick said, and for an instant, he seemed surprised he’d said the words, then he relaxed and looked up at her. “The doctor says I’ll be out of here in a couple of days. You can look after me back at the office.”
“He