Make believe proposal, p.15
Make-Believe Proposal, page 15
He frowned. They hadn't encountered any storms on the flight from New York. Still, perhaps he'd get home before it began to rain. It wasn't far to his estate in Dunwoody. He should be able to beat the storm.
He accelerated out of the car lot, waving to the security guard as he passed. Then he pulled onto the expressway. His thoughts hovered around one subject—June and what he'd say to her. He knew how he felt, but putting it into words was another matter entirely. Presentations to hundreds of staff, speeches in front of thousands, interviews by overly eager media personalities, he could do them all without breaking a sweat. But the idea of sharing his feelings with June had his shirt soaked through. His back stuck to the leather seat and a trickle of sweat ran down his chest.
Using one hand, he loosened his tie, then two of the buttons. He should just tell her the truth; he loved her. That was something people loved to hear. Wasn't it? But what if she didn't feel the same way? Maybe he'd scare her off. After all, they'd never dated. Not really. They'd spent a lot of time together, but perhaps he should take things more slowly. Give her time to come around to his way of thinking.
He glanced over his shoulder, then flicked on his indicator. Traffic was getting heavy on I-285, and he needed to get over for his exit. A flatbed truck carrying a load of something beneath badly tied down tarpaulins blocked his view. The rising wind whipped the tarps, and they flapped loudly. He grunted in frustration, leaning sideways to look for his exit. The trees lining the freeway bent with the force of the wind. Then, a drop of rain landed on his face. Fat and wet, it dripped down his cheek.
He groaned. Just great. He'd have to get off the expressway, so he could put the top back up on the Jag. Another drop fell, then suddenly a deluge poured from the sky.
Soon, he could barely see. His windshield wipers whirred to action, flapping back and forth, but barely gave him visibility for more than a split-second at a time.
Something fell from the bed of the truck in front of him and he swerved. What was it? He couldn't see. Then, a loud bang echoed around him, and the Jag’s steering wheel veered suddenly to the left.
A tire had blown.
His heart somersaulted in his chest, as he fought to gain control of the vehicle. The last thing he remembered was a set of large, bright lights bearing down on him through a veil of raindrops.
June chewed her fingernail, then set her feet on the ottoman in front of her. All day long she'd been thinking about Roland, and what he might be doing up in New York. Had Barbara gone on the trip with them? She'd wanted to ask him before he left if his new girlfriend would be accompanying him but hadn't been able to get the words out.
Of course, maybe she was wrong. Maybe Barbara wasn't his girlfriend. At least not yet. They had only had one date as far as she knew. It might have been more. Still, it was driving her to distraction not knowing. They might be on a date right at that very moment. He was due back tomorrow, and as much as she wanted to, she knew she couldn't ask him about it. He was her boss, and what he did and who he saw was none of her business.
She sighed and flipped through channels looking for something to watch. The girls had gone to sleep an hour earlier, she'd cleaned up the house, all the while fighting her thoughts. She should think about something else, find a movie to watch to distract herself from the pitiful mess of her love life. Her non-existent love life now. The crash of thunder made her jump. She glanced around the media room. It was dark, with no windows, but she could hear the rain pounding the roof overhead. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, it waned.
On the side table next to her, her cell buzzed. She picked it up and glanced at the screen. The number was blocked. She frowned as she swiped the screen.
"Hello?"
"Is this a Miss June Green?" asked an official-sounding voice. The woman paused, waiting for her response.
"Yes, this is June."
"Miss Green, I'm calling to let you know that Mr. Roland Kirk has been in an accident."
Her heart leaped into her throat, and she straightened in her chair, eyes widening. Roland in an accident? What if he was dead? She'd never gotten to tell him how she felt. Why had she waited?
"What kind of accident?"
"It was a vehicular accident, ma'am. He's on his way to Piedmont Hospital as we speak."
"Is he okay?"
Another pause. "I can't say, ma'am. He has you listed as his next of kin. That's all the information I have for now."
As she hung up the phone, June's throat tightened. Tears filled her eyes. What should she do? Caitlin and Emma were asleep. She stood slowly.
Roland.
She had to get to the hospital. What if he was already…? The thought hung in her mind, unfinished, unanswered.
Suddenly, she sprang into action. As she ran up the stairs to rouse the girls, she called the car service to send a car. Then, she hurried to wake first Caitlin then Emma. Telling them as little as possible, she urged them gently to get dressed, then ushered them down the stairs and outside to where the car was already parked in wait, its engine humming quietly as the remnants of a thunderstorm drip-dropped from the eaves overhead.
Should she have let them sleep? She studied their sleepy faces as she helped fasten their seatbelts. No, if the worst had happened, they should be there…a lump formed in her throat.
God, please let him be okay. They can't lose another parent. I can't lose him. Please!
"Where are we going?" asked Emma, her eyes already sliding shut. Her head rested on June's shoulder, she sat between the two of them in the back seat of the long, black limousine.
"Shhh." She stroked Emma's hair. There would be time to explain everything at the hospital. Until then, they could rest.
19
The chairs in the waiting room were hard plastic. June fidgeted in her seat, leaning first one way, then slouching, and finally, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.
Emma and Caitlin sat on either side of her. Emma had stopped crying. Caitlin's lips were pressed into a tight line.
"How much longer?" asked Caitlin, finding June's face, her own pale and drawn.
"I don't know, honey. We just have to wait. The doctors are operating on him, and the nurse said they'd come and tell us when they're done."
"I want to see Daddy," keened Emma, her face screwing up as new tears filled her eyes.
June laced an arm around Emma, pulling her close. Then did the same for Caitlin until all three of them were hunched together. "We all want to see him."
"I've been praying for him," whispered Caitlin.
"That's good, honey. You keep that up, and we will too, won't we Emma?"
Emma nodded wordlessly.
The hum of a coffee machine against the wall broke through the whispered conversations around the waiting room. A baby's wail, then the slap of shoes on the hard, slick floor. June squeezed her eyes shut and sighed, praying again for Roland's safety.
How could this be happening? Why was he back in Atlanta so soon? She'd called Helen, his assistant, and Thad, but since it was now the middle of the night, she hadn't heard back yet from either of them.
No one seemed to know anything.
Her phone rang. She pulled it from her jeans pocket so quickly, it fell to the floor, skidding across the linoleum as it spun in circles. She grimaced, extricated herself from the tangle of girls' limbs, and hurried to retrieve it.
"Helen?"
"Hi June, what's going on?"
"It's Roland, he's had an accident."
Helen's quick intake of breath confirmed she hadn't heard the news. "Where is he? Is he okay?"
"He's at Piedmont Hospital. The surgeons are working on him now. I think he has some broken bones, and possibly internal injuries. I'm not sure. They're going to update me as soon as he's out of surgery."
"I'll be right down." Helen's voice was that of someone accustomed to taking charge.
"What was he doing in Atlanta, Helen?" asked June, her brow furrowed.
“He called me from the plane. He came home early. He wanted to…"
"Wanted to what?"
Helen sighed. "He wanted to see you. To tell you something."
June frowned. "Me?"
"Yes. It's not for me to say, June. Just hold on, I'm coming to the hospital now. He's going to be okay."
June's throat closed over and tears flooded her eyes again. "You don't know that," she whispered.
"He will. He'll be fine. He'll get through this. He's strong."
"I know he is." June rubbed her eyes with her fingertips, cleared away the tears, and drew a slow breath.
"Are the girls with you?"
June nodded silently, then sighed. "Yes. They're here."
"Okay, I'll see if I can bring ya'll some food and something to drink."
"Thank you."
"See you soon."
June pushed the phone into her jeans pocket and wandered back to where the girls sat. Caitlin had her arms wrapped tightly around her knees and was staring into the distance. Emma's eyes were glued to a television screen overhead that was playing cartoons with the volume on mute.
"Helen's coming soon. She's going to bring food," said June, squeezing herself between the two of them again. Emma immediately lay her head on June's shoulder.
"Okay." Caitlin barely moved.
"Mrs. Kirk?" asked a woman dressed in green scrubs.
June darted to her feet, her heart pounding. She didn't want to know, and yet she did, all at the same time. What would she do if it was bad news? She'd have to be strong for Caitlin and Emma. But later…later she'd fall apart.
"Yes?" No time to correct the woman's assumption. The mistaken name barely registered in June's tired mind.
"Mr. Kirk is out of surgery. He's doing fine in recovery. We had to repair a broken thigh, several broken ribs, and he had a collapsed lung. There was some internal bleeding as well, but we managed to stop it. Overall, I'd say he was pretty lucky."
The woman smiled, playing with the face mask that dangled around her neck on a white string.
June's lips curved into a wide smile. "He's okay?"
"He's recovering. So far, it looks promising. You can see him soon, one of the nurses will come and get you."
"Thank you!"
The woman nodded, then turned on her heel, and left through two swinging doors.
June faced the girls with a grin. "He's okay!"
Emma and Caitlin leaped into her arms, shouting and squealing with delight. They each buried their faces in her shirt, and she held onto them, her heart pounding, tears flowing down her cheeks.
Roland's eyes flickered open, then shut again. He groaned as pain assaulted his body—his left leg, his chest, his head. Everything hurt. And his tongue was so dry it felt as though it was attached to the roof of his mouth.
His stomach turned over and he thought he might vomit, then the feeling subsided. What was in his mouth, and down his throat? It was choking him. He coughed, and reached for it, finding a tube taped in place. He tugged at it and soon two firm hands took hold of it, removed the tape, and pulled, freeing him from the tube and making him hack and cough until he thought his lungs might be expelled with it.
"Good to see you awake, Mr. Kirk," said a warm, feminine voice.
His eyes flickered open again. The light above him cast a glare that made it difficult to see. He blinked a few times, then waited for his eyes to focus. A woman dressed in a pair of blue scrubs smiled at him, her dark eyes full of compassion and determination.
"How are you feeling?"
He grunted. "Sore."
"That's to be expected. You were in a car accident."
He frowned. Suddenly the memory of those approaching lights leaped across his mind's eye and he squirmed in place. "Uh?"
"You're at Piedmont Hospital."
She raised a small pen-sized light and pointed it into his eyes, holding his eyelids open one at a time. "Do you know what day it is?"
He answered her question, as well as a few more and she seemed satisfied with his responses. She offered him some water, and he drank from a straw, finally satiating the thirst that burned deep in his gut. He sighed, and lay back on his pillow, exhausted.
When she left, he let his eyes drift shut again, then heard a noise in his room. When his eyelids lifted, he found himself staring into June's reddened face.
"June?" he whispered.
She smiled through a veil of tears. "I'm here. The girls are too, they just fell asleep about a half hour ago. They waited so patiently for you to wake up, but they're really tired."
He smiled, wishing he could look at them, but moving was hard, and sitting up seemed an impossibility. "I'll see them soon."
She nodded. "You gave us a scare."
He tried to laugh, then winced. "Sorry."
She looked like she was choking back the words she wanted to say. She swallowed around them, resting a hand on his arm.
He smiled. "I'm fine. It's going to be okay."
"What if…" A sob escaped her lips.
"It didn't happen." He reached for her face, cupping her cheek with one hand. A drip line was pushed beneath his skin, and she kissed the tape that covered the place it punctured his hand, her eyes squeezed shut.
She bent over him and caressed his cheek, her eyes brimming with moisture. Her lips invited him in, the look in her eyes made his heart thud.
He winced with the pain that emanated throughout his body. His meds must be wearing off. If only he could stand and take her in his arms.
He could barely stand to be so close to her and not hold her, not kiss her full lips, not feel her arms wrapped around his neck.
"I'm sorry…" he began, his eyes dark and intense. Her heart jittered at the sound of his voice.
"Daddy!" cried Emma, flinging herself at the bed.
June caught her just in time and held her close, kissing her hair. "Careful sweetie, Daddy's pretty sore. We have to be gentle."
Emma pulled back cautiously and studied her father with big, round eyes.
"It's okay. Come here," he said, reaching for her.
She leaned gently against the side of the bed, and he held her head between his hands, then kissed the top of her hair. "I'm glad you're here. I've missed you."
Emma stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.
She smiled. "I missed you too, Daddy. What are all these machines doing?"
June laughed. "Okay, come on let's go and get a gift for Daddy from the gift shop."
Caitlin stood a foot away from his bed, eying him. Her hands were linked together in front of her dress, her face taut.
"Come here, sweetheart."
She walked slowly toward him, and rested her hand on top of his, clutching at his fingers. "Does it hurt?"
He nodded and winced at the same time. "Yes, it does. But I think the nurse might bring me some medicine for that."
She nodded slowly. "I'm glad you're okay. I prayed for you."
He smiled. "Thank you."
"I don't like hospitals."
He nodded. "I know. I don't like them much either, but I'm sure thankful for them right now."
His eyes drifted shut.
"Come on, Caitlin. Daddy needs his rest." June beckoned her away from the bed.
With a backward glance, Caitlin followed her out of the room. June's heart swelled—he was awake, and he was recovering. She didn't know what the future held, how long his recovery would be, or if he cared for her the way she did him, but it was enough. For now, it was enough.
20
The walk from the entryway up the stairs to the master suite had Roland puffing hard from exertion. The nurse Helen had hired for him wanted him to sleep downstairs, but he'd insisted on making his own way up to his room.
"I'm not an invalid!" he'd almost shouted. Then realized that was exactly what he was. An invalid.
He smiled to himself at the absurdity of it all as he leaned on the stair railing. Then, raised his cast-covered leg up the final step and onto the carpet. As he padded down the hall, crutches pressed firmly beneath his armpits, he wondered how long it would be before he'd be able to run again. He missed it already.
He sighed and swung the bedroom door shut behind him, then hobbled over to the bed and fell on top of it with a grunt.
It was good to be alone.
He hadn't had any privacy in weeks. It had felt as though every ten minutes someone was either looking in on him, asking him a series of questions, prodding him, poking him, jabbing him, or making him get up and exercise. He'd had no time to himself, no chance to think. No quiet.
The silence of the house enveloped him and soothed like a warm blanket. He smiled and linked his hands behind his head. It was good to be home.
The hospital and the rehabilitation facility had both been wonderful, the best money could buy. But there was nothing quite like being at home. He could be himself and relax, spend time with his family, and not think about physical therapy for at least another twenty hours.
He ran a hand over his face, then sat up. The cast was weighing heavy on his leg. They told him he'd be able to get it taken off in another month, and already he couldn't wait. There was always an itch just down near his knee he couldn't reach to scratch, even with a long stick or scratcher. His entire leg was covered in plaster, all the way up to the top of his thigh.
A knock at the door pushed the door open slightly. "Yes?"
"It's just me, June."
June's face appeared in the gap, and he smiled. "Come on in."
"I'm sorry, I know you just got home and probably want some time to yourself, but I thought I'd see if you need anything before you get settled."
His lips pursed. "Uh…I'd love some water actually. I was just about to see how I could manage it."
She smiled. "No problem, I'll get that for you. Although it sure would've been fun to see you try and manage it with your crutches."
He laughed. "That's cruel. Now you're teasing an invalid."
She stepped closer, her cheeks flushing pink.
