A Bridge to Love (20 page)

Kate
ducked low under the gently-turning rotors and waved her thanks to Janine in
the cockpit. Janine gave her a thumbs-up and waved to Clay. Then she looked
past Kate and saluted. The rotors picked up momentum and the helicopter lifted
off as efficiently as it had landed.

Kate
turned to see Randall Johnson, his suit jacket whipping in the wind, his hand
lifted in farewell to Janine. A wave of relief and gratitude surged through
her. He looked so familiar and solid, Kate had to quell the impulse to fly into
his arms. Instead she smiled at him with her heart in her eyes.

Randall's
arm seemed to freeze halfway down and an odd expression flitted across his
face.

Kate
raised her voice over the receding noise of the helicopter. “Thank you so much
for everything, but especially for coming here. I dreaded facing the
illustrious Dr. Lane alone.”

Randall
lowered his arm to his side and walked over to her. He looked at her a moment
before speaking. “How did Clay do on the trip?”

“Clay
did fine; the fascination of the ride took his mind off the pain.”

“How
did you do?”

“Janine
made it very smooth.”

Randall
caught up with Clay's wheelchair as they entered the elevator. “Well, young
man, you went to a lot of trouble to get a helicopter ride. You and I are going
to catch heck from your mother about this later.”

“Hi,
Mr. Johnson.” Clay smiled at him shyly. “Thanks for the trip. Mom was cool; she
told Ms. Tanner to burn rubber, or whatever you call going fast in a chopper.”

Randall
smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “How's that hand feeling?”

Clay
made a face. “Sore.”

“They'll
take care of you here.”

The
elevator doors opened and the group proceeded down the hall to an examining
room.

Dr.
Lane strode in with his attendants. A compact man with iron gray hair and
rimless glasses, the hand surgeon wore his white coat with authority. After
several quick questions to Kate and Clay, he suggested that she and Randall
leave while he examined Clay's hand. “It won't be a pretty sight, so why don't
you wait outside?”

Kate
was about to object when Randall put a hand firmly in the small of her back and
escorted her out the door. “Dr. Lane will report to us as soon as he's done,”
Randall said loudly enough for the doctor to hear and understand. “Let him do his
job.”

They
walked down the hall to the lounge area. Kate sank down into one of the pale
green vinyl chairs and stared straight ahead. Randall walked restlessly around
the room until he saw the coffeemaker. He poured two foam cups full, and asked
Kate what she took in hers.

“Cream
and sugar, please,” she said absently.

When
he put the cup in her hand, she smiled briefly and said, “Thank you.”

He
went back to his pacing. When he looked at Kate again, she was sitting ramrod
straight with the untouched coffee still in her hand. He went over and sat in
the chair across from her, his elbows on his knees.

“After
Dr. Lane spoke with Dr. Mattern at the ER, he told me that he's very optimistic
about being able to restore full function to Clay's hand.”

“Really?”
Kate's expression lightened slightly. “That's good news. Dr. Mattern thinks
he's the best hand surgeon in the country. I just hate to think of Clay being
limited in any way when using his hands.”

“I
know. Those sculptures of his require a lot of manual dexterity. But he's a
smart kid, and even if there should be a problem, he'll learn to compensate for
it.”

“Yes,
but I don't want him to have to compensate for it. He's too young to have to
deal with limitations.”

Randall
stared down at the coffee cup he was fidgeting with. Kate was struck by how his
hands enveloped the cup. She shook her head slightly to clear it. She kept
fixating on odd details: Randall's huge hands, the splash of blue in the
abstract print hanging on the wall, the hum of the coffeemaker. Around it all
swirled worry and, of course, guilt that her son was injured when she was away.

“Stop
beating yourself up, Kate.”

Randall's
clairvoyance startled her into looking at his face.

“I
can't help it. I wasn't there when my child needed me. He had to depend on a
friend to take him to the hospital. If I hadn't decided to go back to work...”

Randall
looked down and turned his coffee cup in his hands several times before he
responded. “Guilt is not a useful emotion. You can't protect your children from
every bad thing the world throws at them. You've done something better: you've
given them the tools and the confidence to deal with adversity.” He raised his
head. “Clay and Patrick are two lucky kids.”

Kate
could barely trust her voice. “Thanks,” she whispered. She managed a shaky
smile through the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Not only do you get stuck in
a hospital waiting room, but you have to comfort a guilt-ridden mother.”

Randall's
smile was solid. “It's not a role I have much experience with.”

“You're
doing an excellent job.” Kate suddenly looked away and put her coffee cup down
on the table by her chair. “You've done a wonderful job of everything. I don't
know how I will ever be able to repay…”

“You
don't owe me anything,” Randall interrupted as his smile vanished.

“Then
why...” Kate started to ask in genuine puzzlement when Dr. Lane's voice stopped
her. Kate stood up.

“Mrs.
Chilton, it looks promising. All the pieces are still there and still in good
shape, and there doesn't seem to be any nerve damage. We can reattach the
ligaments and sew up the muscles; and with physical therapy, Clay's hand should
be as good as new.”

“Thank
goodness,” Kate breathed.

“If
you have no objection, I'd like to call in a plastic surgeon to work on the
skin. I can handle the mechanics but Alice Reiffel is terrific on the
aesthetics. When she finishes a job, there's barely a scar.”

Kate
quailed inwardly at the thought of the expense; she was sure her health
insurance didn't run to plastic surgery. But she wasn't about to turn down
anything that would aid in Clay's full recovery.

“Of
course. I appreciate your concern with the outside, too.” She hesitated a
moment. “Dr. Lane, my son wants to be a sculptor, so he needs strength and
mobility even in his left hand. I just wanted to tell you how much your help
means to us.”

The
surgeon actually smiled. “So I gather. I told him that after all the physical
therapy, his hand may actually be stronger than before.”

“Thank
you. When will you operate?”

Dr.
Lane looked surprised. “Right now. The sooner the better.”

“Oh,”
Kate said. “I didn't realize that you could arrange it so quickly.”

The
doctor glanced at Randall Johnson, standing just behind Kate. His expression
took on a slightly sardonic cast. “We're always happy to accommodate a friend
of Mr. Johnson.”

Kate
looked back to see Randall's lips tighten in irritation but all he said was,
“Take good care of the boy.”

Dr.
Lane raised an eyebrow. “I always take care of my patients. By the way, Mrs.
Chilton, you have a very brave son. He didn't even groan during the
examination. I wanted to make sure to tell you that.”

“Do
you have children, Doctor Lane?”

“Five,”
he said with a proud grin.

“I'll
tell Clay what you said.” Kate smiled back. “May I see him before you operate?”

“Go
on in. We're prepping the operating room, so you have about ten minutes. After
that, I'd recommend that you give the reception nurse your cell phone number
and then go out and eat. It will be several hours before you can see Clay
again.”

Kate
turned to Randall. He said, “You go see him and then meet me back here. I'll
find a place for us to eat.”

She
didn't waste time telling him that she would probably throw up if she put
anything in her stomach. She started down the hall to see Clay, then stopped
and turned. “Why don't you join me in five minutes? I know Clay would like to
see you.”

Randall
looked surprised, but he nodded.

As
she raced down the hall, Kate thought that, no matter how powerful and
self-assured he seemed, Randall Johnson was not without his own vulnerabilities.

Seventeen

“Hello, sweetheart. How are you
doing?” Kate asked as she kissed Clay's pale forehead. She sat down very gently
on the edge of the examining table.

“The
exam wasn't fun,” Clay said with macho understatement.

Kate
brushed damp hair away from his face. “Dr. Lane was very impressed with how
well you handled the pain. And I don't think he impresses easily.”

“He's
cool. He says my hand might actually be stronger when he's finished. Do you
think that's true?” Suddenly Clay looked heartbreakingly young and scared.

“I
don't think Dr. Lane makes promises that he doesn't expect to keep. He's one of
the best hand surgeons in the country, so he's had lots of experience. I
wouldn't worry at all.”

Clay's
expression relaxed so completely that Kate almost sobbed. Her son's trust in
her was gut-wrenching.

“Dr.
Lane says he's a sculptor, too, only with living tissues,” he said, and smiled
shyly. “He asked me what I enjoyed doing, and I told him about my sculptures.”

Kate
liked Dr. Lewis Lane more and more.

Clay's
face tightened again. “He said the operation will take several hours. Will you
be here when I wake up?”

“Of
course I will.”

“Don't
you have to go home for Patrick?”

“He's
fine with the Costanzas. Don't you worry about anything but getting your hand fixed.
We have lots of good friends who will help us, and I'll be here until you're
ready to go home.”

“Hello,
tough guy,” Randall Johnson's voice came from behind Kate, and she jumped
slightly.

“Mr.
Johnson!” Clay's face lit up. Kate smiled ruefully and wondered if she should
be jealous that her entrance hadn't evoked the same enthusiasm.

“The
doctor says you'll have a hand like the Terminator when he's done with you. He
might even build in an acetylene torch while he's in there,” Randall said.

Clay
chuckled. “I'd rather have a stainless steel clamp.”

“That
can be arranged.” Randall dropped one hand gently onto Kate's shoulder.
“Speaking of which, I've made arrangements for your mother to sleep here, but
you'll have to share a room with her.”

Kate
looked up in surprise. “Th-that's great,” she managed to stammer.

The
door opened and a nurse bustled in, carrying a hospital gown.

“It's
time to suit up the patient. You can pick up a beeper at the reception desk.
We'll beep you when you can see this young man again.”

Kate
leaned forward and hugged Clay gently. “Everything will be fine. I love you.”
She kissed him again.

“He's
in good hands with Dr. Lane, pun intended,” the nurse said as she ushered them
out the door.

Kate
wondered how she would get through the next hours.

“The
nurse is right,” Randall said. “Dr. Lane will do the job.”

“I
know. I just wish that he were operating on me, not my child.”

Randall
put his arm around her shoulders and turned her gently toward the reception
desk. “Let's pick up that beeper and leave the cell phone number.”

“I
can't leave,” Kate said, taking guilty pleasure in being close to Randall as he
steered her down the hall.

“There's
a cafeteria here in the hospital.”

“I
can't eat, either.”

“I
understand your doubts about hospital food, but Ms. Morgan here assures me that
the cafeteria serves a good meal,” Randall said, as he handed the nurse his
business card and accepted a beeper from her.

Kate
caught the smile on the nurse's face and remembered she wasn't the only woman
susceptible to Randall's charm. The pile of papers on the nurse's desk suddenly
reminded her that she hadn't filled out or signed a single piece of paperwork.
She frowned.

“Don't
I need to fill out some forms for my son? You don't even have a copy of his
insurance card.”

Nurse
Morgan shook her head. “Mr. Johnson has taken care of everything. You just
worry about helping that boy of yours get better.”

“Thank
you,” Kate said with a strained smile. She turned to Randall. “We need to
discuss a few things.”

“When
we get to the cafeteria,” he said, taking her by the elbow and moving her
firmly toward the elevator.

The
doors opened and Randall guided her out of the elevator with his hand at the
small of her back. Once again, she savored his touch while feeling she
shouldn't. Especially now that she was furious with him. And grateful. But
furious, too. The warmth of his hand seemed to spread deep into her body. She
felt chilled when he moved it away to pick up a tray and hand it to her.

Kate
slid her tray along the metal shelf, randomly picking up plates of food. She
decided not to argue when Randall paid for everything. She had a bigger battle
to fight.

“I
truly appreciate everything you've done,” she began after they had settled at a
table in a quiet corner.

“If
you thank me one more time, I'm going to sit at another table,” Randall said,
cutting into a slice of meat loaf.

“Don't
tempt me,” Kate said before she could stop herself.

Randall's
smile flashed. “I know you've been dying to read me the riot act for being an
arrogant, high-handed pain in the ass. Go right ahead. I prefer that to being
smothered in gratitude.”

“Then
stop being arrogant and high-handed and rearranging my life,” Kate exploded.

The
smile disappeared. “That's an overreaction to filling out a few forms.”

“Oh,
I'll deal with the forms in a minute.” She had just remembered something else
that Clay's accident had pushed right out of her mind.

“I
met Lidden Hartley today, and I understand that he's a good friend of yours.
It's funny that you mentioned me to him, but didn't mention him to me.” With
great satisfaction, Kate watched a tiny shadow of discomfort flit across
Randall's face. It was gone almost instantly.

“All
I did was speed up the inevitable. Yours was the only design that they were
seriously considering. Lidden just needed to be comfortable with a newcomer to
the business. That's the way the world works.” He jabbed his fork into a tomato
so hard that it squirted seeds halfway across the table.

“So
everyone keeps telling me. I'm just naive enough to want to get a job on my own
merits.”

“It's
not naiveté, it's pride. One of the seven deadly sins, sweetheart.”

“And
one with which you are intimately acquainted.”

“Oh,
I'm pretty well acquainted with most of the deadly seven. It makes life
interesting.” Randall's drawl was suddenly in evidence.

“Is
that why you're doing all this? For lust?” Kate snapped. Randall's fork stopped
in midair. She braced herself as he slowly set down his fork and sat back in
his chair.

“Don't
flatter yourself, darlin'. I don't need to pull strings to get lucky.”

“No,
you don't.” Kate's anger had turned to guilt. He had actually looked hurt when
she accused him of base motives. But she was still confused. “So why? Why did
you talk to Lidden Hartley?”

Randall
looked away. “It came up in conversation.” He picked up his roll and began
systematically tearing it to pieces.

Kate
watched him for a moment. “Did the helicopter just come up in conversation? And
how about all the paperwork?”

He
tossed the roll back onto the plate. “That's what I do. I solve problems. I
handle crises. Isn't that why you called me?”

Kate
derived an ignoble pleasure from knowing that she was making Randall squirm.
She just wished that she knew why he was squirming. “You've arranged everything
perfectly, yet you're still here, eating hospital food and waiting.”

He
looked toward the cafeteria door. “I'm beginning to wonder about that myself,”
he said sardonically.

They
both started as a beeper went off. Randall shook his head. “It's not ours.” He
leaned forward. “I'm making allowances for you because I know you're worried
about Clay. But my patience is limited. Go back to the gratitude.”

He
picked up his fork and impaled a piece of meat loaf.

“Okay,
but we still have to discuss the paperwork. I assume that you put everything on
your bill. I need to have it on my bill.”

“Do
you have any idea how much this surgery will cost?”

“No,
but that's what health insurance is for.”

“Does
yours cover plastic surgery?”

“I'm
sure it does.” She knew she didn't sound convincing.

Randall
slammed his hand down on the table. “God damn it, Kate, do you know how much
money I have?”

Kate
was taken aback. “Not exactly, but I can guess the order of magnitude.”

“I
doubt it. I have a whole foundation set up just so I can give it away faster.
Paying for this operation won't mean anything to me, and I know you can't
afford it.”

“And
how do you know that?” Kate asked in icy tones.

He
ran both hands through his hair in exasperation. “Because you're back at
work
. You wouldn't be there if you
didn't need to be.”

“After
what David did to me, I need to restore my self-esteem.”

“Don't
give me that touchy-feely crap. Your husband left you without enough money, and
you had to go back to work.”

“So
you view me as a charity case for your foundation to take care of.”

“You
have an offensive tendency to find the worst interpretation for everything I
do.”

“I'm
sorry.” Kate bit her lip. “I don't mean to sound that way.” She drew in a long
breath. “I know that you mean to be helpful. But after everything that's
happened, I really do need to stand on my own. I can't let you just sweep down
from your mountaintop and solve my problems whenever the mood strikes you.”

“We're
back to that, are we? I'm supposed to do exactly what you ask me to do and no
more.”

“Yes,”
Kate said as tears filled her eyes. “I have nothing to offer you that can make
up for all you've done.”

“I
think that if we found a nice empty hospital bed, I could demonstrate a few of
the things that you have to offer.”

The
tears spilled over, but she ignored them. “You always do that.”

“Do
what?” Randall asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“Stop
the conversation with some crude comment.”

He
smiled unpleasantly. “I believe you brought the topic up first.”

“I'm
going back to the waiting room,” Kate said, standing up and walking away before
his coffee cup could hit the table.

Randall
watched her go. He needed to think. When a cafeteria worker asked him if he was
finished with his dinner, he gave a single nod of assent and continued to
brood.

The
distinctive double ring of his private cell phone number roused him. Gail was
screening all his calls so this was either an emergency or a friend.

“Randall,
Tom here. Are you still at the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“How's
the patient?”

“Lane
is confident that he can repair the damage. The boy will need some physical
therapy, but he should be fine.”

“That's
good news. How's his mother holding up?”

“As
well as can be expected. She's worried, she's guilty. She's pissed off at me.”

“What?”

“She
doesn't want the easy stuff, Tom.”

“The
easy stuff
?” Tom's confusion came
clearly through the line.

“Things
like helicopter rides and hand surgeons standing by. Money. Influence. The easy
stuff.”

“I
see,” Tom said with both understanding and amusement in his voice. “What
does
she want?”

“That's
the million dollar question, isn't it?”

Tom
was silent. Then he said seriously, “What do
you
want, Randall?”

Randall
was silent for a long minute. “That's the
two
million dollar question.”

Kate
quickly swiped tear marks away as she hurried back to the waiting room feeling
like an over-wound spring. She was worried about Clay. She was hungry and had a
headache. She had just antagonized the man whom she should be down on her knees
thanking.

Randall
Johnson. When she fought with him, she was really battling with her own weaknesses.
She could admit that to herself. Her new world was still being rebuilt. If she
tried to make him a part of it...well, he would become a wrecking ball. She
couldn't control him and even worse, she couldn't control her own response to
him. Yet she kept inviting him in. Again and again.

What
should she do? She sighed. An apology was certainly in order. Then she needed
to somehow discharge her debt to him without becoming further involved. She
grimaced at the impossibility of that.