Radclyffe - The_Color_of_Love_-_Radclyffe

Derian smiled, some of her tension easing away. “No problem.”

The ICU was a long narrow room with a wide central aisle. Beds occupied one wall, separated from one another by heavy white curtains. Opposite them, a bustling nurses’ station with a high counter that held beeping monitors, stacks of charts, and racks of test tubes bearing blood samples was staffed by a handful of men and women. Emily averted her gaze. Cold sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades, but she was steady again. Over a decade since she’d been in a place like this, but the memories were as fresh as yesterday. Her father and Pam in adjacent beds. Her mother gone. She released Derian’s hand completely, afraid she would transmit too much in that touch, afraid to lean too much on the strength Derian so casually offered.

Burns pulled back the curtain at the end of a hospital bed situated in the middle of the long line of beds. A tall, narrow table stood at the end of it covered with printouts and more tubes of blood. Henrietta lay beneath white sheets folded down to midchest, her exposed arms punctured at intervals with intravenous catheters. Red blood flowed out of the snaking tubes, tinted yellow fluids flowed in. Her eyes were closed, her breathing almost imperceptible beneath the covers, her body dwarfed by the IV stands and monitors bolted to the walls on either side of the bed. Tracings revealed the steady blips of the EKG, the smooth rhythmic peaks and valleys of blood pressure, the steady line of oxygen levels. All so familiar and so foreign at the same time.

Emily forced herself to take it all in. She owed it to Henrietta to lessen the horror by sharing it. After she focused and let herself see, she whispered, “She’s breathing on her own.”

“Yes. We took the breathing tube out a couple hours ago. She’s too alert to tolerate it,” Burns said softly.

“That’s so encouraging.” Emily glanced at Derian, whose dark gaze was fixed on Henrietta’s face. Of course the racing enthusiast, world-traveling adventurer would not be afraid to face down death, if that was at hand.

Derian must have felt her staring and smiled at her. “She’d probably pull it out if they left it in.”

“Go ahead,” Burns said. “You can talk to her. She’ll know you’re here.”

Emily hesitated while Derian slipped along the right side of the bed in the narrow space between the rails and the curtain, leaned over, and gripped Henrietta’s fingers below the tape and catheters. Emily eased up opposite her and grasped the rail.

“Hey, HW,” Derian murmured. “I’m here. The doctors said you’re too tough to die, and I told them I already knew that.”

Emily really wasn’t surprised at the words, not when she recognized the love in Derian’s tone. Derian’s tenderness shouldn’t have been unexpected, and she chided herself inwardly for listening to too much office gossip and believing what she read in the tabloids. A reminder that others were rarely as they appeared on the surface.

“So I’m missing the first leg of the race for nothing,” Derian continued, her thumb brushing back and forth over Henrietta’s hand. “And who knows what kind of other action is going on over there without me.”

Emily watched the rhythmic sweep of Derian’s thumb, remembering the way Derian had stroked her cheek. Emily could still feel it, a strong warm wave moving through her, a gentle, nearly possessive caress that shouldn’t have had the impact it did. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t used to being touched. She wasn’t exactly virginal. Not exactly. She just hadn’t found physical intimacy so earthshaking that she was pressed to repeat it, not when she had so many other things to be concerned about. And caresses and other unimportant things were foolish thoughts to be thinking about right now. Somehow, Derian had stirred feelings she rarely paid any attention to.

Derian glanced across Henrietta’s still form and met her eyes. “I’ve got Emily here with me. I snuck her in. I told them she was my sister.” Derian laughed, her gaze still on Emily. “So not true.”

Emily flushed at the languorous drop in Derian’s voice. Why did everything Derian Winfield said sound as if she was being touched by the words? She glanced down at Henrietta and finally reached over to touch her arm beneath the edge of the white and blue striped gown. Relief flooded through her, rinsing the taste of fear from her mouth. Henrietta’s skin was supple and warm, alive. “Hi, Henrietta. You’re going to be all right—no exaggeration. The doctors are on top of everything. All you need to do is rest and…”

Henrietta’s lids fluttered and Emily caught her breath. She glanced at Derian, who was staring at Henrietta with such intensity Emily almost believed Derian was willing Henrietta to wake up.

“Nothing wrong…with my brain,” Henrietta whispered, lids fluttering open. Her pupils were pinpoint, her gaze unfocused. Furrows creased her brow. “Fuzzy.”

“That’s because they doped you up.” Derian brushed a strand of loose hair away from Henrietta’s eyes. Her fingers trembled. “They probably didn’t want you bossing everyone around.”

“Ha,” Henrietta muttered feebly. “What…happened?”

“You had a bit of a spell,” Derian said, “but it’s all fixable. Nothing to worry about just now.”

“Don’t…snow me.”

Derian grinned. “Heart. Not too bad, but you’re gonna need some engine work.”

Henrietta’s lids fluttered close. “You…decide…”

“You got it.”

Emily started. She hadn’t thought about Henrietta’s next of kin. She suddenly hoped with all her being that it wasn’t Martin Winfield.

“All out,” Henrietta said with surprising strength.

“No problem.” Derian’s voice was gentle but her expression was fierce. “I know all about mechanics. I’ll make sure you’ve got another hundred thousand miles under the chassis.”

Henrietta’s mouth twitched into a smile. After a long moment, she whispered, “Take care of…the rest…two of you.”

Derian’s eyebrows rose, and she glanced at Emily. “Don’t worry. We’ll have it all covered.”

Emily wasn’t sure what Henrietta intended by that, but nothing mattered now except Henrietta getting well. She wasn’t sure she could bear too many more days or nights in the hospital. She’d do anything for Henrietta, except stand vigil while she slipped away. She squeezed Henrietta’s arm. “It’s going to be all right. Derian will see to it. I love you.” She backed up, avoiding Derian’s gaze. “I’ll…be outside.”

Silently, Derian watched her go, wondering at what old wounds put such pain in her eyes.

Burns appeared at the end of the bed. “I have to chase you out now or the nurses will skin me.”

“Okay.” Derian leaned down and kissed Henrietta’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry. I’ve got this. I love you.”

Henrietta didn’t respond, and Derian forced herself to step away. Henrietta would be okay, she had to be. Derian said quietly to Burns, “What now?”

“I don’t expect we’ll know much more until the CT guys have had a chance to review all the tests. I’ll call you, or whoever takes over from me will, when we have a plan.”

“I’m her legal next of kin,” Derian said. “I want to be sure I get the call.”

“I don’t actually know anything about that. That would be in her records.”

Derian nodded. “Who should I check with?”

“The nurses at the desk can pull up her admission forms.”

“Okay, thanks.” Derian held out her hand. “For everything.”

“She’s doing fine,” Burns said as he shook her hand. “Someone will call.”

Derian waited at the counter until an older woman with curly gray hair, in a pink scrub suit covered by a smock that looked like the kind of apron Derian’s grandmother used to wear, turned and noticed her. “Can I help you, honey?”