Читать книгу The Bracelet - Karen Smith Rose - Страница 6

When Laura opened the glass door into Brady’s CICU cubicle a few minutes later, she drew in a huge, bolstering breath. She felt so responsible for what was happening now…the condition he was in. The last thing she ever wanted was to hurt him.

Brady was hooked up to monitors, IVs, oxygen and a blood pressure cuff. The leads on his chest were producing the green lines—the hills and peaks on the largest monitor. He was so white, so lifeless, that she feared she’d lost him already. She was paralyzed for a moment, afraid to go forward. She’d been afraid so many times with Brady. But she’d covered it, and in acting strong she’d discovered strength—when he’d returned home from the army, when she’d tried to get pregnant, after they’d adopted Sean. Although when their baby had died of SIDS, Brady had been the strong one.

She only had ten minutes with him, so she dragged the orange vinyl chair to the bed. Nurses bustled in and out constantly. To have a few seconds alone with her husband, she’d have to talk to him now. Who knew what could happen next?

She covered his hand, the one without the IV line, with hers. He was cool to the touch, not at all like the man who always emanated heat. He could be hot in the dead of winter, when her hands and nose were usually cold.

“Brady,” she whispered.

When there was no response, she cleared her throat and said his name again, louder.

His eyes fluttered but didn’t open.

“Brady, it’s Laura. I’m so sorry. I never should have pushed you—” Her voice broke. Regaining her composure, she said, “I love you. You have to fight. You can’t let anything happen now. I want to be married to you for another thirty-three years.”

She kept talking. “Soon the doctors will determine exactly what’s wrong. You have to cooperate with them. You have to fight to get well. Kat and Sean and I need you.”

“Sean,” Brady mumbled, then drifted off again.

“Brady?”

He appeared oblivious to her presence. She understood his body needed rest, but she needed all the time with him she could get. With a lump in her throat, she stroked back her husband’s hair. Although it had silvered at the temples over the years, it hadn’t gotten any thinner. She loved running her fingers through it. She’d loved him from the moment she’d met him. Definitely from that first night when they’d gone to dinner and talked.

After Brady had rescued her from the protest demonstration, they’d walked to the public lot where his car had been parked. The blue Camaro was shiny and new.

“Wow!” she’d said, impressed. “Nice car.”

“I just got it last week. The old one broke down when I was driving home from school.”

He was dressed in bell-bottom jeans and a knit shirt, but from the way Brady Malone spoke and acted, she’d expected he’d come from a middle-class home. Now she knew he was probably upper middle class. “Did you buy the car yourself?”

“I work summers on my dad’s construction sites. But I have to admit, he helped with this. Bottom line is, he and Mom don’t want to drive me back and forth to school. And I’ll need a car eventually. It’ll sit in the garage when I’m away, but I think my dad wanted something tangible of mine that he could take care of. Sort of like he’s doing something for me.”

She hated the fact that this man was leaving the U.S. to risk his life in a war everyone was confused about, a war that took up so much of the news and caused controversy. “You might not go. More troops could be pulled out. You could get a medical deferment.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” he told her over the hood of the car.

She saw the truth of it in his eyes. Her heart pounded every time she looked at him. How could that be when she’d known him such a short time?

“Where do you live?” he asked.

Now she went on alert. “Why do you need to know?”

“We could get something to eat near wherever you live, then I could drop you off at home.” Studying her face, his gaze lingering on the daisy over her temple, he suggested almost casually, “On the other hand, if you’re afraid to ride in the car with me, if you think I’m going to take advantage of you, I can walk you to the bus stop.”

He seemed annoyed that she would even consider he wasn’t a man with a fine reputation. That bit of arrogance wasn’t unattractive. “Where do you live?” she asked.

“So you can seek vengeance if I don’t behave?” Now he grinned and the annoyance was gone.

That smile. With it, he could become president of the United States. Or join a rock band. “I’m keeping my options open.”

He laughed. “I live behind the hospital.”

Those were nice homes, and reinforced her feeling that this man might be out of her league. “I live in Elmwood—Third Avenue. Half a house.” She wanted to make it clear she didn’t come from one of the large homes on the boulevard or even in the nicer single-family dwellings on Fourth Avenue.

“We can go to the Sportsman Diner.”

The restaurant was close to Third Avenue. “They have more than burgers and fries.”

He gave her another one of those long appraisals. “I think you could use more than burgers and fries.”

“Hey, if you don’t like the way I look—”

“I didn’t say that.” His voice had a sensual I’m interested quality to it.

She was skinny and her legs were long. That was why she preferred skirts that fell below her calves. Her tummy tumbled as her gaze met his again. What was she doing?

Suddenly he came around to her side of the car and opened the door. The gesture was his personal invitation. She couldn’t resist it. She couldn’t resist him. She slid into the low, blue vinyl bucket seat, and when he closed her door, a happy feeling warmed her.

Over the next hour, they’d eaten and gotten to know each other. They’d stayed away from discussing the demonstration and the war, sensing they were on opposite sides, if not by belief then by circumstance. She loved listening to Brady’s deep voice. She liked studying his interesting face with the slight bump on his nose, the scar along the right side of his mouth, the beard line growing darker on his jaw.

It distracted her so. She yearned to touch it. Instead she tried to focus her mind on the conversation.

“So your parents were killed when you were twelve?” he asked, finishing a slice of coconut cake.

When she nodded, an old weight filled her heart. The deep cavern of missing would never have a bottom no matter how many years passed. “Yes, and my aunt Marcia took me in. It wasn’t a free choice. She was my only relative. She let me live with her because she knew I wouldn’t give her any trouble.”

“That’s not a reason to take in a child who’s lost her parents.”

“It’s been okay. I’m hoping by next year to be promoted to department manager. When I get that jump in salary, I can rent my own apartment.”

He reached across the table, and she thought he was going to take her hand. But he backed off. “You’ve been through some tough times. I can’t imagine only having an aunt for family. I have two younger brothers and a younger sister. I always have family around. Holidays at our house are wild.”

“Holidays at my aunt’s are quiet. In fact, she went away over Christmas and I spent it with a friend.” Laura mentioned it as if it was no big deal. The truth was, she’d had a great time with her best high-school friend and her mother, better than she would have had with her aunt. But she longed for a family of her own. More than anything, she wanted to be a mother. But she couldn’t tell Brady that. Not yet. Maybe someday.

They talked until the restaurant emptied, asking for refills on coffee to occupy the waitress. They had so much to say. All the while Brady had gazed at her with a focus she’d never felt from a man. They listened to much of the same music, and after dinner when “Aquarius” played on the car radio as he drove through Elmwood, they sang along—“Let the sunshine in.”

Laura loved the unselfconscious way she felt around Brady. It was as if she’d known him for years instead of hours. Her sixth sense told her he wasn’t leading her on.

After he drove down her street and she pointed out her house, he parked at the curb, then came around to the passenger side and opened the door for her. She was terrifically aware of him as they walked up the path to the three concrete steps.

“Is your aunt strict?” he asked. “I mean, does she expect you home at a certain time?”

Laura checked her watch. “My aunt spends Saturday nights with friends. She won’t be home for a while.”

A corner of his lips quirked up. “Does that mean you’re going to invite me in?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You shouldn’t have been involved in an antiwar demonstration that could have landed you in jail,” he muttered, obviously disappointed with her answer.

“I stand up for what I believe in,” she replied quietly. He’d better understand that about her.

The porch light her aunt had left on backlit him. After a thoughtful pause and a frown, he stared into her eyes. “Do you believe we should get to know each other better?”

She was feeling too much already and realized she should be smart. “If you’re going into the service, is there any point?”

Moving closer to her then—just a step, yet it seemed to cover a mile—he enveloped her hands with his. “It would be nice to have someone to write to, someone who mattered.”

“You don’t have anyone who matters?”

“I have my parents, sister and brothers. But family is one thing—a pretty girl with a flower in her hair another.”

Laura had nosy neighbors. An older couple sat on a porch a few doors down, and who knew how many other neighbors had noticed them.

Pulling one hand from Brady’s, she took a key from her pocket. Still holding his hand, she tugged him up the steps onto the porch and to the door. Then she unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The living room was unremarkable, and Brady would probably consider it plain. The low-pile carpet and flowered upholstered furniture were ordinary.

But Brady didn’t seem to care. He put his arms around her and drew her toward him. “Do you believe in free love?”

The heat and hunger in his eyes sparked a like response in her. But she wasn’t going to be foolish. “Love isn’t free.”

Her conclusion made his brows raise. “You’ve learned that already?”

She nodded. “I have a friend who sleeps with every guy who asks her out. She’s not happy. I have another friend who’s saving herself for marriage. And she’s not happy, either. Neither is her boyfriend.”

A slow smile slipped across Brady’s lips. “So what’s your philosophy?”

“I don’t have one. I just know I have to be careful, I have to be cautious and I have to be sure that whatever I do is right for me.”

“Of all the girls I could have found at the demonstration, I had to choose one with common sense.”

Although she smiled, she asked, “Is that why you were there? To find a date?”

His expression sobered. “No. I’m not sure why I was there. I guess I had to get a feel for both sides. I wanted to know that going to fight over there was the right thing for me to do.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. My dad said he has a friend who could pull strings so I don’t get sent to Nam. That’s what my mother wants. But I can’t let him do that. I have a classmate who came back without his leg. I have to help finish what the guys before us started.” His sober expression changed. “But in the meantime—”

He was waiting for some sign from her that they should take whatever was happening between them further, that she wouldn’t back away.

She pictured him in uniform, imagined him leaving, thought about him fighting in a war he felt he had a duty to fight. In spite of the warning voice in her head, she let her fingers follow her heart. She lifted her hand and traced a line down the side of Brady’s face. She felt his jaw tense and his body go taut.

Her caress was obviously the sign he’d wanted. He kissed her until she was dizzy.

Eventually he murmured, “I’d better go. When can I see you again? I’m going back to school tomorrow night, but I can pick you up after church and you can meet my family.”

“Won’t they mind if I barge in?”

“They won’t mind. You can stay for dinner. Mom cooks enough for an army.”

“Oh, Brady, I don’t know. You’re just going to take me home—?”

“Yeah, I am, unless you’d rather not meet everyone.”

All day this man had projected confidence and self-assurance, but now he seemed uncertain. “Unless you’d rather I just go back to college and forget today ever happened.”

“No! I want to see you again. And I’d like to meet your family. But I don’t want to feel like an intruder.”

“You won’t.” He removed the daisy from her hair. “I think you might need to replace this tomorrow. This one looks as though it’s had a long day.”

She laughed and it felt so good.

He laughed, too, hugged her and then kissed her again.

With effort, Brady opened his eyes and became aware of his surroundings in CICU. Laura was stroking his hair. She loved to touch. She’d always loved to touch.

Laura.

She’d stood by him through everything. And now she’d probably saved his life. More that he owed her.

An oxygen tube was at his nose. He moistened his dry lips. “What happens next?”

“Brady. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you—”

Pushed him to tell the kids. To tell Kat, whom he’d never had a problem loving. But most of all to explain to Sean. Laura had loved their son from the moment he’d been settled in her arms by the caseworker. His own lack of response to his adopted son had made her especially protective of the child she’d loved instantly.

“It’s okay,” he managed to say hoarsely. His mouth was so dry. “Did you do CPR? I thought I heard a medic say you did.”

“Sean and I did.”

“I guess I might not make that Orioles game,” he said, trying to joke. She’d gotten him tickets for the Orioles third home game for their anniversary.

“Maybe not that game. But another one soon.”

Laura’s forced optimism wasn’t going to do either of them much good if he didn’t pull through this. “You were right,” he murmured.

“About what?”

Right about driving himself too hard, working too much, caring little about his health as long as he’d gotten everything done in a day that he’d planned. “I should have signed up for that gym membership you suggested.” He attempted to give her a smile but didn’t quite pull it off.

She looked surprised, as if that wasn’t what she’d expected.

Keep it on the surface, he warned himself. Don’t make matters worse. “What happens next?” he asked again.

“You have a catheterization in the morning. Till then, you need to rest. Don’t think about anything you shouldn’t.”

Like reporters in their front yard? Like the condemnation he’d surely see in Sean’s eyes after his son read the article?

Don’t think about it. Bury it. Like the past.

As Brady floated in a fuzzy haze, he knew he wasn’t going to dig everything up again. It didn’t matter what anybody thought, including his son. As he’d told Laura, Sean would prefer to believe the worst. If they just let everything die down—

Today’s news was tomorrow’s garbage. Vietnam was old news. He was not going to unearth memories better off left buried, unearth feelings so claustrophobic they choked him.

His heart was beating harder. Laura wasn’t quite in focus….

The sliding glass door opened and a nurse hurried in. “Ten minutes are up,” she said kindly. “But you can return in an hour.”

“Our son or daughter will be visiting then.”

Brady squeezed her hand. “You come back.”

“It’s important the kids see you.”

“Kat,” he agreed.

“Sean, too. It’ll be okay, Brady. I promise.”

Okay? He didn’t believe that for a minute.

Laura leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips.

He was almost relieved when she left. Closing his eyes, he willed his heart not to hurt any more than it already did.