For Love of Charley (19 page)

“I guess there’s a bright side to
everything. Now I can throw out the garlic.”

Frannie sobered. “Seriously, how are you
doing?”

“I’ve been better, but I’ll make it.” Her
chin quivered again in spite of her efforts to stop it. “I just wish I could
say the same about Uncle Victor.”

“What are the doctors saying?”

“Not much. They’re trying to get him
stabilized enough for surgery.”

“Charley, he’s going to make it. You have
to believe that.” Frannie picked her hand up and squeezed it. “Victor is a
tough old coot. He’ll outlive all of us just to prove he can.”

“I hope you’re right, Frannie. I don’t know
what I’ll do if he doesn’t make it. He’s the only father I’ve ever had.”

“I know, sweetie. And he loves you, too. He
wouldn’t want you to be this upset.”

They both looked up as the nurse came back
in. “Miss Hart? They’re going to be taking your uncle to surgery in a few
minutes. He’s conscious and asking for you. Do you feel up to talking with
him?”

Charley sat up abruptly, then reeled
dizzily.

“Oh, no you don’t.” The nurse eased her
back down. “You stay right there until I get a wheelchair.”

By the time she returned Charley had talked
Frannie into lowering the railing, and she was sitting on the side of the bed
waiting. With Frannie on one side and the nurse on the other, they helped her
into the chair. The room tilted crazily around her as the nurse began to push,
and she closed her eyes against the wave of nausea that hit her.

“Where is he?”

“He’s right in the next room.”

Frannie held the door open for them, then
stepped back. “I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

For Charley, her cousin’s words barely
registered. Her gaze was fixed on her uncle and fear ran rampant through her
entire body. There were tubes and wires everywhere, machines that clicked,
beeped, and hissed. A male nurse sat to one side, chart in hand as he monitored
the equipment.

Victor lay in the center of the bed,
unmoving, and Charley had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could
speak. Her uncle looked so small and frail. His skin was more gray than white,
blood vessels clearly visible below the surface.

Gently, she touched his cheek. “Uncle Vic?
I’m here.”

His lids fluttered then opened, his gaze
searching for her. “Charley,” he whispered.

She leaned closer, the tears she’d been
fighting spilling unnoticed down her face. “Don’t try to talk, Uncle Vic. You
need to save your strength. They’re going to take you down to surgery in a few
minutes and then everything will fine. I’ve been thinking about it, and when
you get out, I’m going to move back home with you. You’ll need someone to take
care of you.”

“No.” He wet his lips. “No, Charley. I was
wrong. Jordan…” Victor took a shaky breath. “I should never have separated the
two of you. He loves you.”

“Uncle Victor, please.”

“Listen to me, Charley. He loves you, and
you love him. No matter what happens to me, the two of you belong together.”

Two orderlies entered the room. “We need to
take him to surgery now, Miss Hart.”

Victor’s hand reached weakly for hers.
“Promise me, darlin’.” His voice was fading with every second. “Promise…give
Jordan…a chance.”

Charley nodded. “I will, Uncle Vic. I
promise.” The lump in her throat was strangling her. She watched helplessly as
the bed bearing her uncle was wheeled from the room.

“Here. It looks like decaf mud, but at
least it’s hot.”

Charley took the cup from Frannie and
looked around the empty waiting room. “Thanks. What time is it?”

“A few minutes after one.”

“Why don’t you go home and get some sleep,
Frannie? You don’t have to stay just to keep me company.”

Frannie plopped onto the plastic-covered
chair next to her. “If it were me waiting, would you leave?”

Charley sipped the coffee, her smile wry.
“No, I guess not.”

“Then don’t expect me to leave you.”

“Doesn’t it seem to be taking too much
time? It’s been hours and hours.”

Her cousin surveyed the receptionist
barricaded behind a glass window on the far side of the room. “I’m sure the
doctors are just being thorough. Besides, knowing Victor, he’s sitting up
arguing with them over every move they make.”

“Miss Hart?”

The receptionist was standing, leaning
toward the hole in the glass. Charley handed Frannie her cup, stood and walked
across the room. “Have you heard anything about my uncle?”

“Not yet. I’m sorry. I just need you to
sign these release papers.”

Charley took the pen and scrawled her name
at the bottom.

“This is your copy, and these are
instructions in case you have problems.” She handed Charley a stack of papers
and a brown manila envelope. “Your belongings are in there.”

Charley gathered them up and turned. Ben,
still wearing his uniform, had come in and was standing next to Frannie, one
arm around her shoulders.

“Victor?”

She shook her head. “We haven’t heard
anything yet. He’s still in surgery.”

“How are you?” His gaze searched her face
intently.

“I’m okay, Ben. They released me about
thirty minutes ago.”

She deposited the papers on an empty chair
and sat down. Ben took the chair next to Frannie.

“Has Cole been by?”

Charley’s heart twisted in her chest, but
she kept her eyes on the floor and forced her voice to stay calm. “No, I haven’t
seen him.”

“I thought for sure he’d stop by and let
them fix his arm.”

“What’s wrong with his arm?” Her eyes
snapped to Ben’s face.

“The cast. He pretty well destroyed it when
he jumped Ashton.”

“When he…” Charley squeezed her eyes shut.

Ben leaned forward, elbows propped on his
knees. “You don’t remember?”

“No.” Her voice was faint. “I remember
Uncle Victor moving in front of me. I remember hearing the gunshot. Then
nothing but blood.”

“If it hadn’t been for Cole, all three of
you would probably be dead now. He knocked the gun out of Douglas’ hand. It
gave me time to get inside.”

Ben hesitated then continued. “You were
pretty hard on him, Charley. I know you weren’t aware of what you were doing,
but Cole thinks you blame him for Victor getting shot. I guess that’s why he
hasn’t come to the hospital. He believes you never want to see him again.”

Charley slumped farther down in her seat
and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Oh, God, Ben. How did everything get to be
such a mess? He probably hates me now.”

Frannie put an arm around her. “He doesn’t
hate you. I don’t think he could. But he is hurting, Charley. I called Kristy
when they took Victor into surgery, and she said Cole came in and went straight
upstairs. You need to talk to him.”

“I can’t leave Uncle Victor yet. Not until
I know for sure how he’s doing.” The need to find Cole and explain, combined
with the need to be there for Victor, was tearing her apart.

Her uncle’s words kept running through her
head.
Promise me you’ll give Jordan another chance.
But what if he
wouldn’t give her one?

“Miss Hart?”

She had been so deep in thought, she hadn’t
even seen the doctor come in. Now, she lurched to her feet. “My uncle?”

He smiled. “Your uncle is in the recovery
room. The damage was pretty extensive, and it’s going to take some time before
he’s back to normal, but I’m pleased to tell you he’s going to make it.”

Charley threw herself into the surprised
man’s arms and hugged him fiercely. “Thank you. Oh, thank you so much.” She
stepped back a little. “Can I see him?”

Grinning like an idiot, the doctor shook
his head. “He’ll be in recovery for at least four more hours, and he wouldn’t
even know you were there. Why don’t you go home and get some rest? You’ve had a
rough night. One of the nurses will call you when he starts to wake up. Just
make sure they have your number.”

Frannie touched her arm. “I’ll go give them
your cell phone number. Why don’t you get your things together?”

“Not much to get.” Charley turned back to
the row of chairs as Frannie went to talk to the receptionist. Her blouse,
covered with Victor’s blood, had been unsalvageable, but one of the nurses had
provided her with a scrub top.

The manila envelope contained only the
jewelry she had been wearing. She dumped the contents onto the chair seat and picked
up the sterling silver ring. It was made from the handle of her mother’s baby
spoon, and Charley never let it out of sight. It was one of the few things she
had left from her mother.

She slipped it onto her right hand and then
reached for the gold ID bracelet Cole had given her. “Ben, can you fasten this
for me?” She held out her arm.

“Sure.” He took the bracelet and draped it
over her wrist. Suddenly he stopped. “What’s this on the clasp? Feels like
scratches.”

“What?” Charley took the bracelet and held
the clasp so the light would fall on it. The words jumped out at her.
For
love of Charley, wife of my heart.
Her knees went weak and she sank slowly
into the chair. “Oh, God.”

Frannie and Ben were both looking at her
with concern. “Charley?” Her cousin moved closer. “What’s wrong?”

Charley leaped to her feet. “Frannie, I
need to borrow your car.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“It’s a wonderful idea. The best I’ve ever
had. I’m going to find Cole.”

Frannie dug the keys out her purse and
handed them over.

* * * * *

The patio door moved silently along its
track as Cole pushed it back and stepped outside. The cool night air ruffled
his hair, but he knew that soon the sun would rise and heat would slam down
like an iron fist. A new day would dawn. One without Charley in it.

In spite of his exhaustion, he had finally
given up on sleep. How could he sleep when every time he closed his eyes he saw
Charley flinching away from him, heard her voice blaming him for not believing
her?

A glimmer of moonlight on water caught his
attention and he turned to look toward the lake. They had never made it to the
glade, and now they probably never would. Not together. But he couldn’t leave
without going back at least once.

Even as he started through the trees, Cole
realized he’d made a decision. He had told Charley he would never leave her
again, but how could he stay knowing he’d see her every day? Canyon Bend was
too small. It would drive him crazy wondering when he’d turn a corner and she
would be there. Seeing her, but never touching her. Loving her, but never able
to call her his.

Kristy liked it here. She could stay and
run the business for him. First thing in the morning he would pack his clothes
and head back to California. And maybe someday he’d learn to live without
Charley. Someday when he was old and gray.

He pushed the thoughts away and
concentrated on keeping his footing. The path he followed was steep, and the
trees blocked what little moonlight was left. At one point, he stumbled,
catching himself on a tree, wincing when his left arm caught his weight.

The glade was exactly as he remembered it,
and that surprised him. After ten years, he’d expected more undergrowth, more
trees to have sprung up. But they hadn’t. It was almost as if time had stood
still.

In the daylight, the glade had always
seemed cathedral-like. Huge trees arched overhead, their leaves filtering the
sunshine into soft green-gold beams. Wildflowers carpeted the floor and
butterflies set the air to shimmering with color. The tiny spring at one edge
of the clearing was a constant, lulling tinkle of sound.

But as beautiful as it was in the day, the
glade at night became an enchanted wonderland. A place where fairies lived and
played in the silken, silver light. And it was here that he’d first loved
Charley, on a blanket spread near the spring. Here that she’d agreed to marry
him. Here that he’d bound his soul and his life to hers, forever.

Reverently, he stepped away from the trees
and walked to the spring, for a moment just gazing down into its clear depths.
With a sigh, he sank down onto a log and buried his face in his hands, the new
plaster cast scratchy against his skin. “Charley,” he whispered. “I need you so
much.”

* * * * *

Charley cursed under her breath as the
yellow Volkswagen puttered down the highway. She was so used to driving a truck
that Frannie’s car felt more like a wind-up toy than a real means of
transportation. It wouldn’t have surprised her in the least to see clowns
piling out of it in large numbers. But she was moving, and that was all that
counted right now.

Excitement tinged with worry flashed
through her as she turned into the driveway of the Carstairs house. Not a
single light showed from any window as she pulled to a stop behind the white
Taurus. But of course, there wouldn’t be. The first touch of day was just now
edging over the hills. Everyone would be asleep.

An image of Cole, alone in that big bed,
eyes shut, hair falling onto his forehead, ran across her mind and she
shivered. Would he be happy to see her? She gazed up at the third level,
wondering if his patio door was unlocked. It seemed a shame to wake Kristy and
Mrs. Paulson.

The thought of Mrs. Paulson caused her to
immediately abandon any plan to sneak around the house. She really hoped Cole
hadn’t bought the woman a gun, but she wasn’t going to chance being mistaken
for a bear just in case. She’d just have to ring the bell.

She leaned on the button and heard the
chimes echo inside the house. A minute later, she did it again. Light suddenly
spilled down the inside stairs and she saw a shadowed figure moving toward the
door. There was a moment of hesitation and then it was pulled open.

“Charley!”

“I’m sorry to wake you, Kristy, but I need
to see Cole.”

“Of course. Come in. How is your uncle?”

“He’s going to make it.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news.” Kristy glanced
over her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mrs. Paulson. You can go back to bed.”

Charley looked up as the housekeeper’s
raspy voice mumbled a complaint, then watched the tiny woman vanish back into
her bedroom.

“She’ll probably never forgive me for
waking her this early.”

Kristy smiled. “Are you kidding? She won’t
even remember it when she wakes up again.” She tightened the belt on her robe.
“I’m glad you’re here, Charley. Cole was pretty upset.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Only that you hated him and never wanted
to see him again.” She shrugged.

Charley’s stomach sank. “Then it’s even
worse than I thought. Do you think he’ll forgive me?”

“You’ll have to ask him that. Shall I get
him?”

“Would it be all right if I just went up?”

Kristy pondered for moment. “I don’t see
why not. Actually, I’m a little surprised he didn’t hear the doorbell. That’s
not like him.”

“He’s probably exhausted.”

“You might be right.” She gestured. “After
you. If you need me I’ll be in my room.”

“Thanks again, Kristy.”

“Anytime.” The blonde yawned.

Charley paused on the landing until she
heard Kristy’s door close and her soft movements cease, then continued up the
third flight of stairs to the master suite. Cole’s bedroom door was shut, and
she eased it open quietly. Inside was pitch black.

“Cole?” She took a tentative step toward
the bed. As her eyes began to adjust, she could just see the vague outlines of
furniture. From somewhere, a cool breeze touched her cheek.

Hand outstretched to avoid obstacles, she reached
the bed and stopped. “Cole? It’s me. I need to talk to you.”

When there was still no answer, she leaned
down and touched the bed, running her fingers across the sheets. Sheets that
were cool. He wasn’t there.

Charley fumbled for the bedside lamp and
finally flipped it on. The bed, as was the rest of the room, was empty.
Surprised, her gaze drifted to the open patio doors. Would he have left again,
without telling Kristy? No, she decided. There was no sign of packing, nothing
to indicate he’d left in a hurry. All the personal items that had been there on
her last visit were still scattered around the room.

It took only one look in the misty gray
morning light to see he wasn’t on the patio. Charley stood in half-light, her
shoulders slumped. Where could he be?

Slowly, she turned to look at the lake, and
she knew with a feeling that was beyond comprehension. The glade. He was at the
glade. She started off the patio. By the time she reached the trees, she was
running.

* * * * *

Cole lifted his head and stared at the
vision in front of him. She couldn’t be real, had to be a figment his
subconscious had conjured. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but was afraid
she’d vanish.

Strange, the tricks your mind can play, he
thought. His vision of Charley had her hands crammed in the pockets of her
jeans. Instead of her usual blouse, she was wearing a dull green, cotton top,
the kind doctors wore. Her chestnut hair was loose, curling around her
shoulders in the damp morning air. And this particular vision looked extremely
nervous.

“Hi.”

Her voice was soft, but Cole blinked,
startled. Visions didn’t talk, did they? He continued to stare at her, his
breath suspended.