Читать книгу Butterfly Summer - Arlene James, Arlene James - Страница 10

The door into the corridor opened and Dr. Luke Strickland strode through it, bristling with purpose. In the weeks since Wallace’s diagnosis, Heather had come to greatly appreciate the good doctor’s utter devotion to his profession and his deft bedside manner. She couldn’t help thinking that the Hamiltons and the Davis Landing Community General Medical Center were blessed to have him, despite the fact that he again wore that carefully blank expression which she had come to dread.

“Is everyone here?” he asked without preamble.

Timothy stopped his pacing long enough to frown. “All but one—as usual.” Tossing out his hands, he demanded of no one in particular, “Where is Melissa?”

“You didn’t seriously expect her to show up, did you?” Jeremy asked mildly.

Tim fixed his brother with his intense brown gaze and lifted an eyebrow imperiously. “Today, considering what’s at stake, yes.”

The pair were often at odds, but these days they just couldn’t seem to keep from butting heads, whether over Hamilton Media or the family itself, and Heather quickly moved to intervene in her own mild-mannered fashion.

“I called her cell before I came up in the elevator. No answer. I don’t think she’s coming.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Tim grumbled, folding his arms.

“It’s probably for the best, actually,” Heather offered quietly. She glanced at her twin, Chris, expecting and receiving his silent support. “You know Melissa doesn’t do hospitals well.”

In truth, Melissa had been edgy and distant ever since their father’s diagnosis. More often than not, she seemed to try to escape her problems rather than face them head on, and that appeared to be the case today. That was an issue that would have to be addressed at another time, though. Heather decided that she would have a private talk with her baby sister as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

“I suggest we just get on with it,” Amy said pragmatically.

Her senior by three years, Amy was also Heather’s boss at the magazine. Unlike Tim, though, Heather didn’t mind yielding authority to an older sibling. Amy was everything that Heather herself was not, a high achiever, self-assured, even forceful, not to mention well-groomed, stylish, graceful. In many ways, she was Timothy’s female equivalent, except that she had been blessed with their mother’s beauty and was blond and blue-eyed, whereas Tim was dark like their father.

Heather, on the other hand, was just…Heather. Mousy, meek and quiet, stuck in the middle, always living too much inside her own head and content to be there.

It had always been that way. Even in high school, Heather had been the sister who’d disappeared into the woodwork, while Amy had been elected homecoming queen and most popular. Heather had persecuted herself with envy back in those days. Eventually, however, she’d come to accept that God had a different role for her.

As a result she’d managed to avoid jealous feelings for their beautiful blond, but troubled, baby sister. The others considered Melissa overly dramatic and rebellious, which she could be, but Heather sensed a deep well of pain in her, especially lately. Then again, their father’s illness had shaken them all.

Dr. Strickland led the way from the sitting area into the bedroom of the hospital suite, with Jeremy, Tim and Amy following in that order. Heather and Chris crowded in behind them. Their mother stood at their ailing father’s bedside, looking decades younger than her husband of thirty-five years, which just pointed out how very ill he was. Heather went straight to Nora’s side and squeezed her hand.

During the weeks of her father’s hospitalization, Heather had grown even closer to her mother. She supposed it was natural since she and Nora were often the only ones rattling around the house these days, especially after Vera Mae, their housekeeper and cook of many years, went home for the evening. The longer Wallace was ill, the more Melissa seemed to stay away. The other four Hamilton siblings had moved out years ago, keeping apartments and penthouses around town.

Nora momentarily laid her head on Heather’s shoulder in a gesture of affection, then lifted her cheeks to receive supportive kisses from her other children. She slid a look around the room.

“Melissa?”

Heather gave her head a slight shake, feeling her long brown hair ruffle against her shoulders.

“Did you call the house?” Nora asked.

“She wasn’t there when I left, so I called her cell instead,” Heather said. “No answer.”

Nora sighed and smiled wanly at Dr. Strickland, gripping her husband’s hand. “Go ahead, Luke. What do the latest tests say?”

“Have we beaten it?” Wallace demanded, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

His silver hair had thinned over the past weeks and would soon begin to come out in clumps if they had to continue the chemotherapy.

To Heather’s dismay, Luke Strickland shook his head.

“I’m sorry. The leukemia has not responded to treatment.”

Nora gasped, and Heather closed her eyes. Standing behind them, Chris lifted protective hands, resting one upon her shoulder and the other upon their mother’s.

As a police officer, Chris alone had not gone into the family business, finding nothing at either Nashville Living magazine or its sister publication, the Davis Landing Dispatch newspaper, to spark his interest. Tall and dark like his brothers and just as intelligent, Chris was somehow more physical than either of them. He was also devout in his faith, though his work schedule made regular church attendance more difficult for him than for Jeremy, whom Heather could always count upon to join her and their mother for services.

It was Amy who asked the pertinent question, “What can we do, doctor?”

“The next step is the bone marrow transplant, isn’t it?” Jeremy said.

The doctor nodded. “Yes. In fact, it’s our only other option at this point.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Tim demanded impatiently. “I assume that the sooner it’s done the better.”

“That’s true,” Dr. Strickland agreed, his gaze moving purposefully around the room before coming to rest on Wallace himself. “Unfortunately, none of you is a perfect match.”

Heather covered her mouth with a trembling hand as Nora swayed before abruptly stiffening her spine.

“What does that mean?” Amy asked quietly.

“That we have to go to the national database for a suitable donor,” the doctor explained.

“How long will that take?” Tim wanted to know.

Dr. Strickland shook his head. “That’s impossible to say. We’ll match him as quickly as possible, though.”

“People wait years for transplants,” Amy murmured, frowning.

“That’s true,” the doctor informed her, “but your father’s condition is sufficiently grave to put him at the top of the list. I have to warn you, though, that if we don’t find that perfect match soon, we may have to go with our second choice and hope for the best. Time is our enemy here.”

“But we do have some time, don’t we?” Nora asked with obvious desperation.

“Some. We’re not beat yet, and while we’re looking for that perfect donor we’ll keep him comfortable and support him with appropriate treatments.”

“Meaning more needles, I suppose,” Wallace groused.

Unruffled, the doctor smiled compassionately. “As if a little thing like a needle ever intimidated you.”

Wallace humphed. “Entirely beside the point. No pun intended.”

“We’re going to beat this,” Nora declared insistently, ignoring her husband’s weak attempt to inject some normalcy into a nightmarish situation.

“Goes without saying,” Wallace retorted, waving his free hand dismissively, but Heather noted that his knuckles were white where they gripped her mother’s fingers.

“Mom’s right,” Heather said softly. “We’ll just keep praying and trusting God. He knows how much we need you, Daddy.”

“Thank you, dear. Now, if that’s all, doctor, there are more important matters to consider at the moment.”

Heather bit back a groan, knowing what was coming, just as did everyone else in the room, including Nora. Well or ill, Wallace would always be about Hamilton Media. Heather took comfort in knowing that nothing had changed in that regard. Nora, whose primary concern would always be the well-being of her family, obviously did not.

“Wallace, I forbid you to worry about business at a time like this.”

He sent her an affectionate, amused glance. “Might as well forbid me to die, sugar, which, by the way, is something else I have no intention of doing anytime soon.”

Tammy Franklin entered the room just then through a second door that opened onto the corridor. Busily efficient, the petite, pretty nurse checked the bedside monitors and the IV line at the patient’s wrist, her blue eyes flicking intently from equipment to patient. Wallace ignored her, fastening his dark gaze on his eldest child.

“Jeremy, I want to know why you haven’t signed that contract with the new accounting firm.”

Jeremy squared his shoulders and calmly replied, “Because I don’t believe it’s in the best interest of the company. Why pay to have done what we already do so well ourselves?”

“Well?” Tim echoed disbelievingly. “How can you say that?”

The whole family knew that Curtis Resnick, a trusted employee, had betrayed both the company and the family—and Jeremy, in particular—by embezzling thousands of dollars.

“We have adequate oversights in place now,” Jeremy insisted.

“Nevertheless, doing our own accounting is what allowed the problem to develop in the first place,” Wallace stated sharply.

“What makes you think an outside accounting firm will be any more honest than our own employees?” Jeremy countered. “The people left in that department are faithful and loyal. They had no part in what happened. They deserve to keep their jobs.”

“Jeremy’s right,” Chris put in. “It’s not fair to punish a whole department for one person’s malfeasance.”

“You have no say in this matter!” Wallace snapped. “Since you opt to put yourself in danger every day rather than take your place in the company—worrying your mother sick in the process, I might add—you have no right to comment.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Dad,” Chris said carefully. “Nevertheless, I agree with Jeremy.”

“You would,” Tim muttered.

“Meaning what exactly, Timothy?” Jeremy asked, sounding genuinely perplexed. “That he takes his faith too seriously for your comfort?”

“Please, boys, that’s enough,” Nora pleaded. “Now is not the time. Your father is too ill for this.”

“I am not too ill to look after the welfare of the company!” Wallace insisted. “My father and grandfather devoted their lives to Hamilton Media, and I simply will not allow a momentary physical weakness to harm it in any way!”

“Please, Daddy,” Heather interjected softly. “If you can trust God with your health, surely you can trust Him and your sons to take care of the company for a while.”

Wallace grimaced shamefacedly. “You’re right, you’re right. It’s just that…” He passed a hand across his forehead, and Nora followed it with one of her own. “I feel so helpless, stuck here in this bed.”

“All the more reason you should rest and let us take care of things,” Tim said.

“Good advice,” the doctor agreed.

“Have a little faith, Dad,” Jeremy put in. “We won’t let you down.”

“Not that faith is an adequate substitute for hard work and dedication,” Tim muttered, and Heather inwardly winced.

Jeremy immediately bristled. “Are you implying that I’m not dedicated, that I don’t work hard enough?”

Tim had the grace to look abashed. “I didn’t say that.”

“You might as well have, so let me remind you, little brother, that I hold the reins at Hamilton Media now.”

“Then do what you should,” Tim demanded. “Bite the bullet and sign that accounting contract!”

“It’s my decision, Tim, and I’m not bound by your opinions.”

“I have a right to my opinions!”

“Please!” Nora interjected sternly. “Now is not the time.”

“We’re all too upset at the moment for this discussion,” Amy interjected reasonably.

“Confound it, this is important!” Wallace bellowed, turning red in the face.

“That’s it,” Dr. Strickland interrupted, placing a quelling hand on Wallace’s chest. “Take it outside, if you please. And you…” He wagged an admonishing finger at the patient. “Calm down. You need to rest.”

Amy stepped up to the bed and bent to press a kiss to Wallace’s forehead.

“At least try to follow the doctor’s orders,” she urged, a wry smile curling her pretty mouth.

“And don’t worry,” Jeremy said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Wallace nodded curtly, his jaw working.

“I’ll walk you out,” Nurse Franklin said politely but firmly, herding them all toward the door.

Chris was the first to move toward it, saying, “I’m picking up a little overtime tonight, so I’ll see you tomorrow, Dad.”

“Call if you need anything, Mom,” Amy said, following on Christopher’s heels.

“Yes, of course, sweetheart,” Nora murmured. Then she abruptly lifted a hand, stopping everyone in their tracks. “If you talk to your sister,” she dictated firmly, “go easy on her. Melissa is still very young, you know.”

Tim huffed but didn’t argue. Chris traded looks with Heather and went out. Amy nodded, smiled and, with a final wistful glance at their father, followed Christopher.

Jeremy hugged Nora, whispering, “I know you’ll take care of him. Just be sure to take care of yourself, too.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she returned, cupping his cheek with one hand.

Heather squeezed her mother’s delicate shoulder and kissed her father, while Tim stood glowering at the foot of their father’s bed.

“It may be his right to make the decision,” Tim said to Wallace, “but we both know that signing that contract is best for the business, and I don’t intend to let him forget it.”

Wallace slowly blinked his eyes in acknowledgment but said nothing until Timothy had left the room. Heather moved to follow him, hearing her father murmur what sounded like, “Maybe Jeremy shouldn’t have the right.”

Nora gasped, and Heather immediately halted. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Wallace shook his head, but then he blurted, “It’s still my company! Jeremy’s only in charge temporarily, Nora.” Frowning, he muttered, “And maybe I made a mistake with that.”

Obviously shaken, Nora whispered, “Wallace, what are you saying? Jeremy’s the eldest, and just because he does things differently than you, doesn’t mean he isn’t capable.”

“I know, I know,” he mumbled, his great energy and strength of will abruptly waning. “It’s just that knocking on death’s door makes you rethink some things.” His head fell back against the pillow, and Dr. Strickland reached for his pulse.

“I really must insist that you rest now. Nora, that goes for you, too.”

With a last tender kiss, Nora turned from the bedside and ushered her middle daughter into the sitting room, pulling the door closed behind her.

“Oh, Heather,” she whispered. “He’s so weak.”

“In body, perhaps, but not in spirit.”

Nora smiled wryly. “True.”

“Dad isn’t really having second thoughts about Jeremy taking over the company, is he?”

Evading her gaze, Nora turned away. “Your father knows that Jeremy deserves to be president, but in Wallace’s mind I suppose he’ll always be the CEO of Hamilton Media.”

Even had it been characteristic of Heather to press, concern for her mother would not have allowed it just then. Yet something about the way her father had looked and sounded had disturbed her as much as it obviously had Nora.

“I’m sure you’re right,” she murmured, trying to believe that it wasn’t more than that.

“Your father’s so very ill,” Nora whispered. “I’m afraid he’s not thinking clearly.”

Heather reached out and gathered her delicate mother into a warm hug. “It’s going to be all right, Mom. One way or another, it’s going to be all right.”

“It has to be,” she said fervently, her eyes closed tight. “I’m trying so hard to trust God to heal him.” She pulled back far enough to give Heather a reassuring smile. “We have to keep holding on. Now is not the time to relinquish our faith.”

“We’ll keep praying,” Heather promised, “and we’ll keep trusting God, no matter what happens. Now, let me take you home.”

Nora stepped away then. “No, no. I want to stay close by.” She gestured toward the sofa. “I’ll lie down here for a while. Besides, you need to get back to work, and my car’s in the parking lot.”

Heather knew that her mother was right. The office couldn’t seem to get along without her for more than an hour or two. Still, after such devastating news, it was difficult to leave her parents here on their own. It just seemed to be one thing after another lately.

“If you’re sure.”

“Absolutely,” Nora said, stiffening her spine. “I’ll see you at home later.” She kissed Heather’s cheek. “I’m so glad that you and Melissa are there. I couldn’t bear coming home to that big old house all alone.”

Heather smiled. She knew that few twenty-seven-year-olds still lived at home with Mom and Dad, but there was plenty of room and the time had never felt right to leave. She’d almost done it after college when her boyfriend of two years had proposed marriage, but that would have meant not just leaving her parents’ home but moving away from Davis Landing and Tennessee for Florida, where he’d had a job waiting in the aerospace industry. She’d known that wasn’t right for her.

Now, six years later, she seemed stuck, but as much as she prayed about it, she couldn’t convince herself that it was time to strike out on her own. This, obviously, was the life that God meant for her. If the very worst happened and her father died, her mother would need her more than ever. No, now was not the time to be thinking about moving out.

Nora smiled indulgently. “You go on, darling. Don’t worry about me. Or anything else.”

“That goes for you, too,” Heather said, moving away. “Get some rest.”

“I’ll try. Tell Vera Mae not to hold dinner for me, will you?”

Heather stopped. “Mom.”

“Please don’t say it. I’ll eat here, with your father, and be home later. Besides, the pastor is coming this evening, and I don’t want to miss him.”

Heather sighed. She understood Nora’s need to spend as many waking moments at Wallace’s side as possible, but these past weeks had taken a toll on her, too. She had started to look brittle and fragile. Still, convincing Nora Hamilton not to give her utmost to her family was easier said than done. In the end, Heather left her mother just as Nora wished.

She knew that staying busy would help keep her own mind off her father’s health. Nevertheless, once she was alone in her car in the hospital parking lot, with the air conditioner humming against the mid-June heat, Heather took the time to formulate a cogent and purposeful prayer, one that included family unity during this difficult time.

Her family truly loved one another, but Wallace’s illness had upset everyone and exacerbated their differences, especially those between Jeremy and Tim. It didn’t help that this crisis had come just after Curtis Resnick’s embezzlement had been uncovered.

Heather agreed with Jeremy’s decision not to prosecute Curtis and to demand restitution instead. Tim, however, did not. Amy claimed not to care so long as the money was recouped. Chris had taken no position, and only spelled out the likely consequences of prosecuting Resnick when asked to do so by Jeremy. Thankfully, Wallace had left the decision to his eldest son, who seemed determined to be generous as well as fair. After all, he and Curtis had been very good friends at one time.

Whatever opinion any of them held, however, no one wanted to be dealing with the aftermath of embezzlement while Wallace was fighting for his life. It was added stress that none of them needed just now. Yet, they’d get through it.

They were Hamiltons, and Hamiltons might bend, but they didn’t break. If Heather hadn’t learned anything else from her father, she’d learned that much. It was one more reason why going on without him was almost unthinkable at this point.

“Oh, Lord,” she prayed aloud, “I don’t know what Your purpose is in all this, but I do know that You have one. I just hope that when all is said and done, it includes healing my father and bringing our family closer together. I won’t ask for things to be the way they were before. We’ll never be the same after this, but we can be better. Isn’t that what You always want for us, Lord, to be more like You? Use this, then, toward that end.”

She went on with her prayer, fervently seeking God’s will and claiming His mercy. Afterward, as always, she felt better, strong enough to face whatever awaited her at the office.

As features editor of the magazine, she was always dealing with some crisis, stepping in to settle differences and adjust priorities, choosing projects, making sure all the i’s were dotted and the t’s crossed—whatever it took to get each feature and column brought in under deadline. She just never dreamed that today of all days she would become the feature.