Читать книгу Butterfly Summer - Arlene James - Страница 10

Heather stuck her nose into the elaborate bouquet and inhaled deeply, but not even the beauty of the flowers or their heady aroma could dispel the anesthetic odor of a hospital, however well-appointed the room. Decorated in jewel tones with dark cherry furnishings, the spacious suite where her father had taken up residence and endured test after test had become a place of tension and worry for her and the remainder of the Hamilton family.

She closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer heavenward. Gracious Lord God, please don’t let it be serious.

She had uttered or thought the words so often over these past few difficult days that they had become a private litany, and still she could not quite fathom the idea that Wallace Hamilton might actually be seriously ill.

Tall and urbanely handsome, with his thick silver hair, dark eyes and long, patrician face, he had always seemed larger than life. At fifty-nine, Wallace was still a force to be reckoned with, not only within the Hamilton family but also within the publishing world, at least that part of it centered here in Tennessee.

Now his expensive, expertly tailored suits had given way to silk pajamas and his lean, fit frame had begun to appear gaunt. Yet Heather could not believe that he wouldn’t soon rise, button on one of his famously pristine white shirts, knot his silk tie and stride off to once again control Hamilton Media, the family company that he’d built into a small empire from the weekly newspaper established by his grandfather.

Her mother, Nora, entered the sitting room from the bedchamber beyond, pulling the heavy door closed behind her. Petite and elegant, Nora looked more like Heather’s sister than her mother, despite the silver threading the shoulder-length gold of her hair and the new shadows around her enormous hazel eyes.

While Heather herself looked older than her twenty-seven years, her mother could easily pass for forty rather than fifty-five. Heather accepted without question the fact that she had not inherited her mother’s pale beauty. It was more important to her that she take after her mother in other ways, because there was no one in the world whom she admired more than Nora Hamilton.

Her mother might appear tiny and elfin, but she possessed a backbone of steel and a fiercely protective nature, which any mother of six required. She routinely placed herself between the world and her family, shielding them all with prayer, showering them with love and guiding them with pragmatic wisdom. She could not, however, protect them from illness. Only God, in His infinite mercy, could do that.

Today they would learn whether Wallace had been spared the worst or if God would allow the specter of death to hover over him.

Nora folded her arms and looked around the room at her grown children, hugging herself tight. “The doctors are with your father now. He wanted to hear the news alone. They’ll be out to speak to us next.”

“It’s going to be all right, Mom,” Amy, Heather’s older sister, said from the sofa.

Melissa, the youngest, promptly rose from her seat on the arm of the sofa and shoved her hand into the pocket of her frayed jeans, asking, “Anyone want a cola?”

“You just finished a cola,” Timothy, the second-oldest brother, pointed out, pushing away from the wall and bringing his hands to his hips.

Tim was the Hamilton most like Wallace. As vice president of Hamilton Media, he had little time or patience for anything that took him away from the business except family. Unfortunately, he seemed to resent that their oldest brother, Jeremy, who had a more mellow disposition, had been handed the reins of the business when Wallace had entered the hospital. It didn’t help that they’d recently uncovered an embezzlement scheme by one of their most trusted employees, who also happened to be a good friend of Jeremy’s.

“Yeah, well, I’m having another,” Melissa retorted, striding rapidly from the room, ostensibly headed for the vending machine down the hall.

Heather suspected that she just couldn’t bear the pressure any longer. Melissa resembled Amy in looks, both having inherited their blond hair and enormous, doelike eyes from their mother. But unlike Amy, who at thirty was senior managing editor of the family-owned Nashville Living magazine, twenty-three-year-old Melissa was something of a wild child.

Christopher, Heather’s twin brother, rose to his full six-foot height and crossed the room to their mother, whom he enfolded in his muscular embrace. With his dark, wavy hair and burly build, he couldn’t have looked less like Heather if he’d tried, especially when wearing his policeman’s uniform. Something about that dark-blue suit of clothes, with its gun belt and tools, added consequence to his already impressive stature, especially when he was standing next to their petite mother.

“Amy’s right,” Chris told Nora. “No matter what the doctors have to say, everything’s going to work out for the best.”

Nora nodded. “God takes care of His own.”

“No doubt about it.”

The door opened at Nora’s back. She and Christopher stepped aside to allow the doctors into the room. One of them, an older man with thinning steel gray hair, Heather had never seen before. He had to be the specialist Luke Strickland had called in from Nashville. Dr. Strickland himself was well-known to them. In his midthirties, with dark hair and eyes, the tall, handsome, charismatic physician had quickly won the respect and trust of the entire family.

It was Dr. Strickland who swept his gaze over the family. “I’ve just spoken with Wallace, explained our diagnosis and outlined our treatment options.”

Heather glanced at Amy, a knot of dread coiling tight in her stomach.

“How bad is it?” Tim demanded, but Jeremy stepped forward, forestalling any reply.

“Hold on a minute, Luke.” At a lean six feet and two inches, Jeremy was the tallest of the three Hamilton brothers. He had the same dark, wavy hair as the other two, but instead of brown eyes, his were a vibrant, piercing blue. The eldest at thirty-five, his calm, confident manner and quiet, evenhanded leadership had made him a favorite at Hamilton Media. Yet he and Tim seemed eternally at odds. “Melissa needs to hear this, too. Give me a minute to get her in here.”

Tim rolled his eyes, obviously impatient with the delay. Fortunately, Melissa walked into the room just then. She took in the heavy atmosphere and threw out one hip, a soft-drink bottle clutched in one hand.

“Are we having a wake or what?”

“Melissa!” Tim scolded.

Melissa immediately colored. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jeremy tossed Tim a look and laid a hand on Melissa’s forearm, effectively quelling both before nodding at Dr. Strickland.

The younger doctor folded his hands and spread his feet slightly, balancing his weight. “I want you all to understand that the treatment options for your father’s condition have greatly improved in the last few years.”

Nora closed her eyes at that foreboding announcement. Jeremy immediately crossed the room to stand beside her and Christopher. Amy rose from the sofa, the fitted jacket of her stylish suit pulling taut across her slender shoulders as she folded her arms protectively. Heather tucked her hair behind her ears and hid her trembling hands in the voluminous folds of her full skirt.

Please, God, she prayed. Please. Oh, please.

“How bad is it?” Jeremy asked softly.

Luke Strickland swept the room with his dark, compassionate gaze before nodding to the other doctor. The specialist took one small step forward, lifted his chin and changed all their lives.

“Your father has leukemia.”