Читать книгу The Wedding Plan - Abby Gaines - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

“WHEN WILL THEY TELL ME what’s going on?” Merry gripped the edge of her plastic chair in the ICU waiting room that the hospital had assigned to “Family of John Wyatt.”

“As soon as they know something.” Lucas was doing a good job of acting as if she hadn’t asked that question twenty times already. She wondered if the U.S. Naval Academy ran classes in Maintaining a Rocklike Calm in a Crisis. Lucas would have aced it.

“I called my dad,” he said. “He and Stephanie are waiting for a sitter for Mia, then they’ll be right here.”

“They don’t need to come.” Her father and Lucas’s had been there for each other at all the most important events of their lives. She wanted this to be a little glitch, not a defining moment.

She and Lucas lapsed into silence again. When a nurse stuck her head around the door, they both jumped.

“A doctor will be out to see you in about ten minutes, Ms. Wyatt.” Her gaze drifted sideways to Lucas. Her eyes widened and she smiled. “Thank you for your patience.” She left the room with a lingering glance over her shoulder. Not at Merry.

“If you’re looking for a date, you could be in luck,” Merry said.

“Not interested.” Lucas stretched back in his chair.

“I didn’t ask,” she said. “Are you seeing anyone at the moment? Other than me?”

It wasn’t much of a joke. Still, he smiled. “Currently single. There was someone last year, before I was shot down—a nurse on my aircraft carrier. She married another guy. Lucky for you, I wasn’t invited to the wedding, so I didn’t need a date.”

Merry forced herself to keep talking so she wouldn’t fall into a panic about her father. “That seems to be a recurring theme. Girlfriend breaks up with you, then marries someone else six months later. Do you think the adrenaline rush of getting away from you makes them crazy?”

“She proposed to me, and I turned her down. She found a man who wanted the fairy-tale wedding. End of story.”

Lucas stood and crossed to a poster of CPR instructions on the wall. He began reading, though Merry suspected he knew the details inside out from his military training. Her dad had still had a pulse when they’d found him, so CPR hadn’t been necessary. Maybe she should take a refresher course, so that next time…

She shied away from the thought. Yeah, Dad was sick, but the dialysis was working. Whatever this episode was, he’d get past it. They’d get past it. “Why didn’t you want to marry her? What was wrong with her?” Easier to analyze Lucas’s patchy dating history than her father’s health.

Lucas leaned against the wall, obscuring useful advice about clearing the airway before commencing CPR. “Nothing. She checked all the boxes.”

“Loves the navy, built like a Victoria’s Secret model…” Merry counted points off on her fingers.

He grinned. “Pretty much.”

So Merry’s small breasts had turned him off. The only kind of Victoria’s Secret model she could be was for one of those bras that transformed nonexistent boobs into almost-cleavage. “She sounds perfect.”

“She was turning thirty,” Lucas said.

Merry gasped. “An old hag!”

His mouth quirked. “Her biological clock was ticking. When I said I wasn’t ready for marriage, she asked me to be a sperm donor.”

“And you didn’t want to?”

“If I was going to procreate, I’d want to raise the kid myself.” He sat down again, this time several seats away from Merry.

Of course he’d want to do it himself. He would never shirk a responsibility. But there was more to parenting than that, or there should be.

“Being a dad is a big deal,” she limited herself to saying. John Wyatt was the only parent she knew. He’d not only been a wonderful father, he’d kept alive the mother she didn’t remember. If she lost him…

“Snap out of it, Merry,” Lucas said. “Don’t assume the worst.”

“Quit ordering me around.” Her reflexive reaction.

“You never could do as you were told.” He shook his head with mock disappointment.

“You never could explain why I had to be the petty officer third class, while you always got to be the captain.”

He blinked at the reference to that childhood resentment. But she felt suddenly like a child. Vulnerable to loss.

“It was for your own good,” he said. “I couldn’t promote you until you learned not to be insubordinate. You were even worse when you were the enemy—you could never accept that prisoner of war meant you were the loser.”

“You could never understand that I might have cooperated if you didn’t insist on being in command,” she retorted.

Though today had proved that a tendency to take charge wasn’t always a bad thing. While Merry had been paralyzed with shock, Lucas had found a blanket in the office, put it over her father, continued monitoring his pulse. He’d stayed so calm as they’d waited for the ambulance.

“You were great today,” she blurted.

“I didn’t do anything.” He folded his arms across his chest.

The door to the waiting room opened. A woman wearing scrubs came in. “Ms. Wyatt?”

Merry stood on legs that were suddenly leaden. “That’s me.”

“I’m Dr. Randall. Your father is stable in ICU.”

“Stable.” Merry clutched the word.

“I’m afraid that’s a temporary state,” the doctor said. “We’re still running tests, but we believe your father has dialysis-associated peritonitis.”

He’d had that before, though not so badly that he’d collapsed. Infection was a constant risk for peritoneal dialysis patients, usually resulting from a lapse in hygiene during the process. Merry made sure everything occurred in a sterile fashion during his lunchtime session, but she could imagine her dad “not bothering” in the evening.

“I’ll supervise him every time from now on,” she vowed. “I’ll move in with him—I’ll hold a gun to his head until he scrubs every last speck of sawdust from under his fingernails.”

Dr. Randall looked startled. Lucas grinned.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” the doctor said. “If the infection’s as severe as we believe, Mr. Wyatt can’t continue on peritoneal dialysis…and the reason he switched to PD two years ago was because hemodialysis was no longer a possibility for him.”

Lucas’s smile vanished. “How long does he have?”

What did he mean, how long? That was the kind of question you asked about people who…

“We expect his kidney failure to become fatal in the next ten days,” Dr. Randall said.

“Dad’s going to die?” Merry’s knees sagged. Before she could keel over, Lucas’s arm came around her shoulders, held her up. Impersonal, but strong. “In ten days?”

“Given his current condition, I’d say more likely in the next four or five days. I’m sorry, Ms. Wyatt, not to have better news.” The doctor fingered the stethoscope protruding from her trouser pocket. “I know this won’t make you feel better right now, but kidney failure is considered one of the gentler forms of death. Very peaceful. Many medical personnel say it’s the way they’d like to go.”

Merry started to laugh. She knew she was becoming hysterical, but couldn’t stop it.

The doctor took a step backward.

Lucas tightened his hold on Merry’s shoulder. “There must be something we can do.”

“There’s still the possibility of a donor kidney becoming available,” the doctor said. “I know you’re not a match, Ms. Wyatt, but are there any other relatives or friends who might agree to being tested?”

“I will,” Lucas said.

Merry caught her breath. “You’d do that? For Dad?”

“Your dad saved my dad’s life. Time the Calders returned the favor.”

The doctor looked confused. “So…this isn’t your husband?”

“No!” They spoke almost in unison, with Merry just a tad faster.

“What blood type are you?” Dr. Randall asked Lucas. “That’s the first thing to consider before we move ahead to any tests.”

“I’m A positive. What do you need?” As if he could change his blood type to suit.

“I’m sorry.” The doctor told him what Merry already knew. “Mr. Wyatt is type O, so we need an O donor.”

“Maybe my father’s a match.” Lucas offered up one of Dwight’s kidneys without hesitation.

“Your dad already got tested back when Dad had to move off hemodialysis,” Merry said. “And Dwight made such a fuss about Stephanie doing it, she backed down. I think we’ve exhausted our pool of related donors,” she told the doctor. “Has Dad moved up the general transplant list?”

“It’s not a list, as such,” the doctor said. “Patients are assigned points based on several criteria. But, yes, your father has more points than he did yesterday.” She scrubbed at her eyes with her hands, looking exhausted. Merry almost forgave her the comment about a “gentle” death.

After the physician left, Merry realized Lucas’s arm was still around her. She moved away. “Lucas, thank you for offering to get tested. That was—” Her throat clogged.

“A safe bet,” he said with a shrug. “What were the odds I’d end up a match?”

But she knew he’d meant it. Merry found herself scrubbing her eyes the same way the doctor had. “Where am I going to get a kidney?” she said. “Could I buy one on eBay?” She was joking, but only just.

“Too Third World,” he said. “Better to stake out the blood donor clinic, figure out who’s a match, then run them over in the parking lot.”

She managed a watery smile. “Great idea.”

“The challenge is not to kill them,” he mused, “but to get them into the hospital close enough to death for the kidney to be available stat.”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”

The nurse stuck her head around the door again. “Ms. Wyatt, you can see your father now. Ten minutes, just one of you.” She spoke to Merry, but looked at Lucas.

Merry jumped to her feet. “At last. Thank you.”

Lucas put a hand on her arm, stalling her. “Merry…if the doctor’s right, and your father doesn’t have much time, you probably need to tell some people. Folks who want to say goodbye. I could leave now, go make some calls.”

The room swam for a moment and she grasped the back of the chair she’d just vacated. “His friends,” she murmured. “Old navy buddies. If we ask your father and a couple of others to pass the word along… Dad will tell me who to speak to. I’ll text you.”

“Family?”

She shook her head. “He has cousins in England, but it’s only the younger generation left. We’re not in touch.”

It sounded so lonely. So sad. Yet it hadn’t been, not when there’d been the two of them.

But in a few days, it would be only Merry.

* * *

MERRY’S FATHER’S ROOM was a hive of monitors, wires, tubes. He took up most of the length of the bed, but little of the width. His eyes were open, unblinking, and for a horrified moment she thought he—

“Merry-Berry,” he rasped.

She rushed forward, looking for some part of him she could hold on to without ripping out a tube, or hurting him. There was nothing, no part of him untouched, except for the callused fingers of his right hand.

She sandwiched them between her palms. “Dad, you…” Slow down, don’t upset him. “You gave me a scare.”

His chuckle sounded like air leaking out of a balloon…but at least it was there. Maybe the doctor was wrong.

“When you get out of here, I’m going to monitor every dialysis session, whether you like it or not,” she vowed.

“Yes, dear,” he said with a faint smile. But his eyes said he knew he wouldn’t be getting out of here.

To her horror, a tear leaked out of the corner of his right eye and ran onto the pillow. “Dad, please…”

His fingers twitched between hers. “Merry…the lawyer has a copy of my will.”

“The doctor says you’ve moved up in the transplant points,” Merry said. “You could get a new kidney any minute.”

“It’s pretty straightforward. Everything to you, except for a small bequest to the VVA.” Her dad was a longtime supporter of the Vietnam Veterans of America.

“We’ll get you through this,” she said. “I’m not letting you go, Dad.”

“I’m not worried about you financially,” he persisted. “You’ll do nicely by selling the business. But…Merry-Berry, I think I made a mistake.”

She blinked away tears. “Dad, it’s so hard to avoid infection when you’re on dialysis, anyone could—”

“Not that,” he said. “After your mother died, I should have— Maybe I should have married again.”

Merry straightened, shocked. “No, Dad. You always said you could never love anyone else.”

“Maybe I should have tried. Then I wouldn’t be leaving you alone.” John tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “I wish I had met someone else, like Dwight did. But I didn’t even try.”

“I never wanted a stepmother,” Merry said. She thought about Lucas’s brother, Garrett, who until recently had considered Stephanie his enemy. A stepmother she hated would have been far worse than no one at all. “I’ve loved it being just you and me. And I love your stories about Mom, and about how you two met and fell in love.”

Her father’s chin quivered. Barely noticeable, but it was there. Amazing that the memory of her mother still had the power to affect him like that.

“I hate the thought of you being alone,” he said. His fingers fluttered in her grip. “Merry, this has been on my mind for a while.”

If he’d been thinking about it, he’d obviously sensed he was sicker than he’d let on. Was his worry about her future the cause of those “trances” she occasionally found him in? The reason for the stress that had sent his high blood pressure over the edge?

“I’ll be just fine.” Her attempt at reassurance came out thin and unconvincing. Her dad was everything, everyone, to her. She had friends, boyfriends…but no one who put her first in their life. “I—I love you, Dad. So much.” She dug in her pocket for a tissue, blew her nose. “Please, don’t worry about me, just concentrate on getting better.”

A stupid thing to say.

He nodded. But another tear leaked onto his pillow, and then another. And now her tissue was all snotty.

“You’ve been wonderful, the way you’ve looked after me,” he said. “Never interfering or pushy, but making sure I was doing my dialysis, getting regular checkups.”

“I haven’t done anything,” she said. “You wouldn’t let me.”

He smiled, and it felt like a gift. “I was mad when you wouldn’t go away to college, but I’ve been so grateful to have you here with me. A lot of parents, their kids go away to school, they meet some guy or girl on the other side of the country, and that’s it. Gone.”

“I couldn’t leave you, Dad.”

“Instead, I’m leaving you,” he said. “Who’ll look after you, Merry, if you get sick? Who’ll fix your car when that starter motor plays up again?”

“My doctor and my mechanic,” she said, and this time she managed the necessary lightness.

“Who’s going to comfort you when I’m gone?” he asked. “Be at your side, through good times and bad? Not just next week, but for the rest of your life.”

It struck her that during all that time in the waiting room, she hadn’t once thought of calling Patrick.

“There’ll be someone.” She tried to sound confident. “Dad, I don’t want you worrying about me. Think of something that makes you happy.”

“I’ll tell you what would make me happy,” he said with a surge of energy that sent her hopes soaring. “It’d stop me worrying, too.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll make it happen,” she said instantly. “Uh, I don’t have to ‘hang, draw and quarter those idiots who made Fisher Street one-way,’ do I?”

Her father gave a raspy chuckle at one of his favorite threats. “Nothing so drastic, Merry-Berry.” He patted her hand. “I’d like you to get married.”

She laughed, louder than the joke deserved, but if he felt well enough to kid around…

Wait a minute.

He wasn’t smiling.

He was giving her the same look he had when he’d said, “I’d like you to promise me you’ll never get in a car with a boy who’s been drinking.” And, “I’d like you to never smoke marijuana.” No problem with the second, but she couldn’t say she’d obeyed the first a hundred percent. As for this one…

“Dad, no! I can’t just get married out of the blue.”

“What happened to ‘whatever it is, I’ll make it happen’?” He lifted his tubed-and-wired left hand a few inches off the blanket, agitated.

“I can’t work miracles,” she said. “Patrick and I have only been dating for—”

“Patrick!” John’s face turned red. “I don’t want my daughter ending up with that lemon. You need to marry Lucas.”

Merry’s chair scraped harshly against the linoleum as she jerked backward. “Dad, that’s crazy.”

“Think about it,” he said. “You’ve dated on and off for years, so there’s obviously something strong between you.”

A strong desire to shut their fathers up. “More off than on,” she said. “Dad, we’re not—”

“You both know that Dwight and I always hoped you two… But that’s not a good reason,” he said. “What is a good reason is that you suit each other. It’s obvious to everyone.”

“Dad, Lucas and I aren’t that close.” Damn those stupid exaggerations she’d fed their fathers. “Let alone soul mates, which is what you’ve always said I should look for.”

“How do you know you’re not soul mates?” John said. “You’ve never given each other a serious chance.”

“You and Mom knew instantly,” she reminded him.

“We met when we were in our twenties. Chances are, if I’d known her since I was three years old, like you’ve known Lucas, it might have taken me a little longer to see the treasure right before my eyes.”

“Dad, I’m not Lucas’s treasure, and he’s not mine.”

“I think you are,” he said obstinately. “Lucas told me when he was ten years old that he planned to marry you.”

Her jaw dropped. “No way.”

John managed a grin. “Where do you think Dwight and I got the idea?”

“You can hardly hold Lucas to a ten-year-old’s crush.” She wondered if he remembered. Reminding him could be fun....

An alarm beeped on one of her father’s monitors, and she jumped. “What’s that? Dad, are you okay?”

A nurse, older than the one from the waiting room, bustled in, just in time to stop Merry hitting the panic button. “Time for a top-up, Mr. Wyatt.” With deft movements she removed an empty IV bag from its hanger and replaced it with a full one.

Merry didn’t speak until the monitor was chugging along in what she assumed was a normal fashion. Then she said, “Dad, it’s sweet that you’re worried about me....”

“It’s not sweet,” he growled. “It’s hell.”

That silenced her. Momentarily. “Even if I was willing, Lucas doesn’t want to marry me.”

“Have you even asked him?” her dad demanded.

“Of course not.”

“Merry…” Her father briefly closed his eyes. “We both know I’m not going to make it. It would mean more than I can say to know you’re married to Lucas. A man who’ll look after you.”

“He wants to go back to active duty,” she reminded her father.

“That’s his job. The navy will take care of him. And of you, when he’s away.”

Men like her dad and Dwight—and Lucas—considered arguments about the mortality rates in the services irrelevant.

“I know Lucas cares for you,” John said. “If it’s at all possible, please, could you ask him if—if he cares enough to marry you?”

Not in a million years.

Another monitor started beeping. This time, Merry didn’t panic. But this time it was serious. Two nurses ran in, followed by a doctor. Merry found herself out in the hallway, the door closed in her face.

She leaned her forehead against it and prayed for her father’s survival. For a miracle cure.

What if there is no miracle? Would she let her father die worrying about her, deprived of the peace a man should have in his final moments? When just maybe, she had the power to give him that peace?