Читать книгу The Accidental Bride - Christina Skye - Страница 10

Scottsdale, Arizona

JILLY WATCHED THE PARKING LOT fill with silver Hummers and black Range Rovers. Only sports figures, celebrities and the very rich came to this private clinic in the high desert above the sprawl of Phoenix. Jilly had only gotten in thanks to one of her restaurant regulars. When Jilly hadn’t been at her usual spot, buzzing between the tables and the kitchen, he had learned about her collapse and arranged to have her transported. But she had received the same cold diagnosis here that she had received in the small emergency room near her restaurant.

Jilly closed her eyes.

Her heart.

Why now, when she was on the verge of a huge career leap? Her restaurant was booked out for weeks. She had plans for a cookbook, and she had just received two offers to buy her signature line of organic salsa, Jilly’s Naturals. Then, in the space of a heartbeat, everything had fallen apart on her.

No more sixteen-hour workdays, the cardiologist had warned.

Not even three-hour workdays until her tests were done.

She would need at least half a dozen procedures plus a battery of lab tests before the total picture was clear. Something was wrong with her heart, starting with an arrhythmia that triggered a counter beat when she was under stress.

But when wasn’t she under stress? Maybe during the first few minutes of waking, when her big white Samoyed puppy was curled up at her feet and she had the whole day ahead of her, with all its possibilities. Reality always swept in too soon, carrying in a flood of calls, emails and text messages.

Produce deliveries to inspect.

Employees to placate.

The magic of food had called to Jilly ever since she was twelve. Cooking was the only thing she had ever wanted to do, her first and only dream.

Her fingers opened, massaging her chest above the spot where her problematic heart waited to stammer and skip, sending her back into oblivion.

Did she have a family history of heart disease? Had any relative suffered a heart attack very young? The thoughtful cardiologist had quizzed her for twenty minutes. Were there parents or siblings with heart defects? Any relevant family incidents that she could remember?

Jilly’s fingers closed to a fist above her heart. What parents? What siblings? Her genetic profile was a total blank. She had been found red-faced and howling beneath a cheap blue flannel blanket in a packing box on the steps of the local fire station. Less than three months old, the Summer Island doctor had estimated. Healthy. No problems beyond a little dehydration. Just wrapped up and left behind, discarded like an old newspaper.

Jilly closed her eyes. So what if she was alone? In the end you were always alone. You couldn’t take anything or anyone with you when you died, and you couldn’t trust anyone with your deepest hopes and secrets while you lived.

You did it by yourself or it didn’t get done.

Now the future was in her hands. She had to change, and she would work on that. Yet how could she possibly replace the job she loved? Cooking had given her an anchor when nothing else could.

She didn’t hear the light tap at her door. She was too busy searching the bright corridor of dreams that had been her compass since she was old enough to understand what orphan, foundling and abandoned on the firehouse steps meant.

“You idiot.”

She jumped when she heard the familiar voice, rough with concern. Then her oldest friend’s strong hands slid around her and gripped tight.

“Why do you always have to do everything alone, stubborn as a rabid mule?”

It was a timeworn joke between the four friends. When I need help I’ll ask for it. It was Jilly’s oldest answer to any question. And of course she never asked.

She whispered the familiar words now, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“You should have called us! I could strangle you.” But Grace’s hoarse words were full of love and support, despite their anger. “What happened? Were you burned?”

Jilly took a raw breath. No way to lie. Not to your oldest friend. Not to Grace, whose face held worry and irritation and complete, unqualified love.

“It happened at dinner. It was right after the tortilla soup and the wood-grilled salmon. I had a beef tartare entrée coming up. The Wagyu beef was perfect, with little marblings that—”

“Forget the food. What happened, Jilly?”

“It was—like a fist at my chest. Nausea. Straining to breathe and dizziness. I lost it. Just plain lost it. The doctors say that … it’s my heart. There’s some kind of atrial valve malformation. And when you factor in the stress of my work, plus the physical demands and the long hours …”

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“They think—well, that it was a heart attack,” Jilly whispered.

“No way.” Grace sank down on the bed. “You’re too young for that.”

“Apparently I’m not.” Jilly took a deep breath. “No more busy Saturday nights at my restaurant. No more Jilly’s Naturals. No more mango tomatillo tamales with espresso chipotle sauce. What am I going to do now, Grace?”

“We’ll be here. All of us. Caro and Olivia and I. It’s going to be fine.”

“How can it be fine? All I’m good at is cooking.”

“Be quiet and listen to me.” Grace gripped Jilly’s shoulders. “You’ve got us and you’ve got the Harbor House. Just remember that. If there’s a way to make this work for you, we’ll think of it together. And if not … then we’ll find a new dream for you to catch and hold. It will be even better than the old ones.”

“But how will I—”

“Just trust someone for once, will you? I learned how to trust again, and so can you. Now tell me everything. Start with what happened in the restaurant and all your symptoms. I’m going to do some research. Then you can get another opinion.”

“Don’t waste your time,” Jilly said softly. Her shoulders slumped as she leaned against Grace. “I saw the X-ray with the shadow. I saw the first lab results. There’s no point in hoping—”

“There’s always a reason to hope. If you say that again, I’m going to deck you, Jilly O’Hara.”

Jilly forced a smile. “If you pull out my EKG monitor, I could expire right here. ‘Death by best friend!’ I can see the headlines in the Summer Island Herald now.” Jilly gave a shaky laugh as Grace handed her a tissue and an expensive chocolate bar. “I’m only supposed to eat what they bring me. Nothing else. Tomorrow there are more tests.”

“I checked with the nurse. One piece is okay. Now dry your eyes and eat. Then we’re going to make a plan of attack.”

“SHE LOOKED SO SAD, almost as if she was broken. I’ve never seen our Jilly look like that.” Grace sat stiffly in the hospital’s big lounge. Outside, purple clouds swept across the distant foothills. Lightning flashed and shimmered, as restless as Grace’s mood.

“I’ve never seen Jilly give up. She’s totally single-minded. Nothing stops her,” Caro said worriedly. Her voice came closer to the phone.

“This thing has. Her doctor says that she’s going to have to change her life 180 degrees or else. No more stress. No more crazy work schedule. Good food, rest and exercise along with medication. Maybe surgery.”

“Jilly doesn’t know how to relax.” Caro sighed, sounding tired. “She never has. This is all so terrible, Grace. I just wish I could be there with you. When can she leave?”

“Probably a week. But I’m staying here, so don’t worry. Meanwhile, we’re making a plan. Tomorrow I’ll talk to her cardiologist and then I’m going to get another opinion. But you need to rest, too, Caro. You sound exhausted.” Since Grace’s departure, all the Harbor House repair work had fallen on Caro. Grace hated leaving her friend in the lurch this way. “I’m fine. Things have been intense here, that’s all.”

“It’s that new contractor, isn’t it? Fire him, will you? You’re too kindhearted by a mile.”

“But he has three kids and a new baby on the way. And his mother used to work at the animal shelter. I can’t just—”

“You can and you damned well better, Caro. If you don’t, then I will. Now go get some sleep. The Harbor House will survive. I’ll text you as soon as I know more about Jilly. We’ll make this work out right. We always do, remember?”

“I remember.” Caro gave a sleepy yawn. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Count on it.” Grace frowned. As soon as she broke the connection, her optimism faded.

She wanted to be positive for Jilly. She wanted to believe in a sunny world full of possibilities. But how did you argue with X-rays and heart enzyme tests?

“STOP FIDGETING. READ one of those magazines.”

Jilly punched at her pillow. “I tried. They’re boring.”

“Then read that thriller I left you.”

“It’s stupid. Nobody does ridiculous things like that.” Jilly scowled. “I was rooting for the villain by page ten.”

“Jilly, I give up. You have to rest. The doctor told you that, remember?”

“I’m trying. It’s just not easy.” Jilly shifted restlessly. “Can’t you find me a good magazine? Cook’s Illustrated would be perfect. Or maybe Gourmet—”

“The doctor said no cooking. No more work obsession. You are supposed to relax.”

Jilly blew out an irritated breath. “How can I relax? My salsa line will be dead if I don’t get back to work. And my wholesale produce contact said—”

“Talk to the hand.” Glaring, Grace waved her hand in front of Jilly.

“But—”

“Rest. Otherwise I’ll bang you with that meat mallet I found in your purse.”

“Don’t knock the mallet, pal. I lock up really late at night and the parking lot is empty. That thing makes a great defensive weapon.”

Grace jumped as her cell phone chimed, forgotten in her pocket. It took her a moment to clear her tangled thoughts. “I’ll take this outside.”

“Sure. Go right ahead. I’ll just sit here and let my brain rot slowly.”

Grace shook her head as she walked outside. But when she glanced at her phone, she felt the instant wave of joy … and then the crushing worry.

It was Noah.

She scanned his text quickly.

Called Caro. Got an update. How’s the Salsa Diva doing?

Grace cradled the phone. Noah still caused a flutter at her chest, even after all these months. She hoped that would never go away.

Not so good. Waiting for more tests. It looks like her heart. She’s upset and so am I. I only wish that …

Grace left the sentence hanging and hit the send button. What was there to add? There were still too many questions to predict what would happen next.

Noah would understand. He had read her feelings almost from the first moment they had met. He was smart and decent and also the sexiest man she knew.

But sexy and decent didn’t help when his job kept him tied up 24/7. Lately Grace woke up at night in a cold sweat, seeing dark images of explosive death and shattered limbs. Though few people could be told, Noah was a bomb disposal expert and he was the very best. Because of his experience and thoroughness he had cheated death again and again.

Given how important his job was, Noah couldn’t turn and walk away. No matter the risk.

And because Grace knew how much the job meant to him, she wouldn’t ask him to. While they were perfect together, perfect equals and amazing lovers, a distance had begun to creep between them.

Grace had a suspicion that one day she’d wake up and find the distance too great to cross, and she’d lose the only man she could ever love.

Her phone chimed, and Grace answered breathlessly.

“Hey, gorgeous. How are you holding up?”

“I’ve been better.”

“I’m really sorry. Any updates? Have you seen her medical reports yet?”

“A few. There are more to be done.” Grace watched more lightning play over the mountains beyond the hospital window. “It looks like heart problems.”

“She’s awfully young for that, isn’t she?”

“They found a malformed valve. They told Jilly it was just a matter of time.”

“So they caught it early. That’s something.” Noah took a deep breath. “Tell me how you are doing.”

“I’m … managing. But Jilly’s not exactly in her best mood right now. She lives to work but her doctor says all that has to change. And seriously, Noah, I don’t know if she can.”

“Everyone can change. All it takes is motivation and commitment.”

“You really believe that?” If so, where did that leave them? Nothing had changed Noah. His job was still a jealous lover, and any day he could walk out of his apartment and not come back.

“I do believe people can change. Grace, about my transfer … I’m working it out. In fact—”

Grace heard muffled voices and then the angry cry of a siren. “Noah, are you okay? Is anything wrong?”

“Everything’s fine, honey. I’m just finishing up some loose ends.”

“Truly? You … wouldn’t lie to me? Never lie,” Grace whispered fiercely. “I can handle anything but that.”

“No, all the heavy lifting is done. We’re just waiting for the folks from Homeland to arrive so we can sign off.” His voice was calm and reassuring. “I wish I had more time to talk.” There was no hint of nerves or impatience.

But Grace wasn’t reassured. “Be careful. And if you manage to change your schedule, I guarantee you some amazing Chinese dumplings and a cable car with a view of the bay.” Grace refused to give way to desperation. They needed to meet halfway as equals—or not at all. If he was locked to his job, what kind of future did they have anyway?

“Working on it, honey. Give me another week. Then let’s book that hotel on the hill with a view of the Golden Gate. I want to order room service and wake up every morning with your head on my pillow. I promise I’ll make it happen this time.”

This was the third time they’d tried, but Grace didn’t bring that up. Third time was the charm, right? “Clear the date and I’ll arrange everything, just as long as Jilly is doing okay,” she finished.

“She’s damned tough. Your only problem will be keeping her out of the kitchen long enough to get a diagnosis.”

Both of them knew it was no joke. Cooking was the one dream that had kept Jilly afloat during a troubled girlhood and a lonely adulthood.

“We’ll think of something. Maybe Caro, Olivia and I should stage a kitchen intervention,” Grace mused.

“Hey—that’s not a bad idea. Is Olivia finally back from Europe?”

“She got back two days ago.”

“Jilly’s luckier than she knows. Not many people have friends like you three. And I vote for the intervention,” he said gravely. “Life’s too short.” His voice turned hard. “I know how short, honey. So pin her down and make her do the right thing. Meanwhile, we’ll work this out with my job. Just give me a little more time—”

Sirens split the quiet air and Grace heard the swell of urgent voices. “Noah, what did you say?”

“Sorry, honey. Gotta go. The Homeland team just arrived.”

“Okay.” Grace’s heart twisted in her chest, but she kept her voice level. “Be safe.”

She heard shouts and more sirens. She bit down all her questions. “I love you, Noah,” she said hoarsely. “Remember that. Call me when you can.”

But it was too late. He had already gone.

Life was too short, Grace thought. She wasn’t going to let Jilly ruin hers. Suddenly an intervention made perfect sense.