Divided Hearts

DIVIDED HEARTS

Susan R. Hughes

© 2011 Susan R. Hughes. All rights reserved.

Chapter One

“Night, night, Hannah,” Faye whispered into the bedroom as she eased the door closed. “Sweet dreams.”

The little girl’s head swiveled to the side, her mop of brown hair fanning across the mattress. A band of light from the hallway captured a pair of azure eyes gazing out through the bars of the crib, half concealed under heavily drooping lids.

Faye pulled the door quietly closed, waiting a moment for sounds of protest. Silence. Thank goodness Hannah was so easy to put to bed. It was the child’s mother that Faye was beginning to worry about.

She checked her watch, frowning. It wasn’t like Jenna to be late. She was supposed to be home from her teaching job an hour ago, as usual, in time to put Hannah to bed. On the rare occasions that she was held up at work, she’d always call and let Faye know.

Wandering into the living room, Faye bent to gather an armful of stuffed animals and squeaky plastic fruits, tossing them into the toy box in the corner, before stacking the battered board books scattered across the coffee table. The apartment, once a pristine reflection of Faye’s formerly ordered life, had become an obstacle course of baby paraphernalia. Not that she minded all that much; she had two roommates now, and as one of them happened to be sixteen months old, clutter and chaos were inevitable.

The phone rang, and relief washed through her as she grabbed the receiver.
Jenna, finally.
But instead of Jenna, the caller was Jenna’s mother, her voice fretful. “Faye, it’s Carole. I’m at the hospital—Vancouver General. There’s been an accident.”

Faye sank onto the sofa, alarm knifing through her. “What happened?”

“Jenna was hit by a car while she was crossing the street, just outside the school.”

Faye drew a sharp breath, her hand rising to her mouth. The possibility of an accident had crossed her mind, but she’d brushed off the notion as excessive worrying. “How is she?”

“She’s unconscious. Please come down here right away, if you can get someone to watch Hannah.”

“Of course.” Her heart thumping rapidly, Faye fought for composure as her mind raced. “I’ll get Katia next door. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

* * *

Pacing across the waiting room floor, Faye twisted her hands together until her fingers ached. She forced herself to unclasp them, splaying her fingers at her sides as she strode back again. What was taking so long? She couldn’t stand another minute of not knowing the extent of her best friend’s injury.

Finally Carole appeared through a set of doors, her face a weary mask of anxiety. Her thin brows were drawn together, the fine lines in her face creased more deeply with tension. She wrapped her arms around Faye, clutching her fiercely for a long moment before releasing her.

“How is she?” Faye ventured, fearing the answer as much as she craved it.

“She has a fairly serious head injury.” Carole’s voice was thick but strangely flat, conveying little emotion, as though she could cope only by keeping her feelings tightly controlled. “They have her in an induced coma, until the swelling goes down. They say it’s the best thing for her, to help her brain heal.”

“She will come out of it, won’t she?” Faye had hoped her friend’s injuries weren’t that bad, even expecting she might be conscious by now.

Carole’s shoulders lifted. “We have to wait and see. Oh, Faye, I can’t believe this is happening. My little girl. If she never wakes up—”

Faye clasped the older woman’s hand, doing her best to summon a reassuring tone. “She will. We have to believe that.”

“Will you be able to look after Hannah, for the time being?”

“Of course. Don’t worry about that. You stay here with Jenna as much as you need to.”

Carole nodded, pulling in a long, shaky breath. “I’d better get back to her. I’m the only one allowed to see her right now, but if you want to stick around, I’ll come back and let you know of any changes to her condition.”

“Sure,” Faye agreed. “Our neighbour Katia came to our apartment to sleep over, so I can stay for a while.”

“Good. Thank you for being here.” Giving Faye’s hand a final squeeze, Carole offered a weak smile before she headed back through the double doors.

Left alone, Faye sank into one of the waiting-room chairs. She pressed her hands together on her lap, wondering how she could fill the time without losing her mind with worry. There were magazines on the tables, but she couldn’t fathom being able to focus on reading.

The whole situation seemed surreal, like a nightmare thrust abruptly into reality. Faye and Jenna had been like sisters growing up. The idea of her best friend dying, leaving little Hannah to grow up without her mother, was something Faye couldn’t allow herself to consider. Strangely, though, the impulse to cry hadn’t struck her yet. She wasn’t quite convinced she wouldn’t wake up in a moment and find herself in her bed at home, with everyone safe and sound.

Glancing over at the reception desk, Faye noticed a man talking to the nurse. He was uncommonly tall and lean, his shoulders broad and square in a brown leather jacket. After a moment the nurse pointed to Faye, and the man turned to look at her, then moved away from the desk to head in her direction.

At once Faye felt her breath catch in her throat, her skin prickling with an unbidden pull of attraction. The man was drop-dead gorgeous, his well-cut features capped with dark-blond hair, brushed back neatly from his forehead. But it was his eyes, blue as a clear summer sky, that caused a wild spike in her pulse. Steady and alluring, they held her gaze as he approached, and she blinked a couple of times to free herself of their mesmerizing effect.

“The nurse said you’re a friend of Jenna Maclean,” the man said once he reached her. He spoke in an elegant British accent that flowed over her like silk, and Faye couldn’t help the small smile that curved the corners of her mouth.

She simply nodded, straightening in her chair, the air escaping her lungs in a languid sigh as she admired the wide, sensuous mouth and strong jaw that accompanied those incredible eyes.

The next moment she admonished herself silently.
Shame on you, Faye Harper, for ogling a complete stranger while your best friend is fighting for her life.

“How is she?” he asked, lowering himself into the chair next to hers. “I’m told only family can see her.”

“She’s unconscious.” Faye wondered briefly whether he was someone Jenna knew from the language school where she taught. “Do you know her?”

He dipped his chin in a short nod. “I’m Simon Blake. She worked for me a couple of years ago.”

“Oh.” Faye felt her smile curl downward, mention of his name knocking her heart into her stomach. So this was Simon. She couldn’t blame Jenna for having fallen under his spell; the man was dazzling to look at. But knowing the way he had treated her friend abruptly dispelled his allure for Faye. She knew little about him, other than the fact that he was the author of a popular series of spy novels who lived a few hours north of Vancouver, up the Sunshine Coast. She had told herself many times that if she ever met Simon Blake she’d give him a piece of her mind. But now that he was sitting right beside her, it hardly seemed like the right time.

“I stopped by the school,” he explained, apparently oblivious to the shift in Faye’s expression. “I was hoping to catch her there, but they told me there’d been an accident, and she’d been brought here. I hope she’ll be all right.”

“I didn’t think you were still in touch with Jenna.” Faye eyed him warily. He’d dismissed her friend over two years ago, leaving her to look after their child with no support, financial or otherwise. What could he want with her now?

“We haven’t spoken in some time,” he confirmed. “But I realized just recently that I still owed her a bit of money from the work she did for me. Since I was coming here to Vancouver for a couple of days anyhow, I thought I’d drop off a cheque in person.”

Darn right you owe her money, and more than a bit
.

“When Jenna wakes up, I’ll tell her you were here,” she offered mildly.
If
she wakes up—but Faye refused to entertain the thought, keeping it to herself. Jenna had to recover; there was no other outcome Faye could accept.

“I guess I’ll just head back to my hotel.” Simon rose to his feet. “Could I call you tomorrow to see how she’s doing?”

“I suppose.” Fishing one of her business cards out of her purse, she handed it to him. He looked at it briefly before sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans. Faye glowered at him, waiting for an inquiry into the wellbeing of the child he’d never seen, or any sort of indication that he’d given a single thought to her. His silence on the subject fuelled Faye’s irritation.

“And Hannah’s fine, in case you’re interested,” she muttered as he turned away, unable to stop herself.

Pivoting on his heel, he spun back to face her, one eyebrow lifting. “Hannah?”

Faye’s frown deepened. So he didn’t even know his own child’s name. “Your daughter,” she informed him testily.

“My daughter?” he snorted. “I don’t have any children.”

Faye glared at him, her anger rising. Appropriate or not, she was going to speak her mind. “Refusing to acknowledge her doesn’t make her any less yours.”

“What in God’s name are you talking about?” Simon barked.

“You mean you really don’t know?”

He took a step closer, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his brows drawn down in irritation. “Would you care to explain?”

“You don’t
know
about Jenna’s baby?” she asked breathlessly, as it dawned on her that the man really had no idea. Could it be that Jenna hadn’t told him she was pregnant?

Simon’s expression changed, shock and disbelief overlaying the aggravation. “She has a
child
?”

Faye nodded. “She told me you knew. She said you didn’t want anything to do with Hannah.”

“How old is she?”

“Sixteen months next week.”

Sinking back into the chair, he scrubbed a hand over his face, releasing a long breath. “I swear to you, Jenna never told me a thing. After she left, I didn’t hear from her again.”

Faye sat motionless, her mind running through the details she knew about Jenna’s relationship with Simon. Jenna had taken a job doing research for one of his novels, spending a good deal of time at his home in the small community of Halfmoon Bay, and a romance had soon developed between them. After they broke up, and Jenna later discovered she was pregnant, she told Faye that Simon wanted no part of the baby’s life. Obviously the last part of the story had been a fabrication.
But why?

“I’m sorry,” Faye said finally, her discomfort a mingling of bewilderment and regret for her harsh judgment of him. “I don’t know what to say.” She couldn’t fathom why Jenna had lied to both of them. It made no sense.

Simon turned to Faye, his eyes meeting hers directly. “I want to see my daughter.”

“Naturally. Once Jenna regains consciousness, you can talk to her about it.” Faye felt a surge of sympathy for the man. He’d come here concerned about an old girlfriend, and wound up ambushed with life-altering news. As his gaze held hers, she saw no uncertainty there, the eyes hard and bright like polished gems, both unnerving her and sending a warm quiver scooting down her spine.

“I’ll be in touch,” he said simply, tilting his head in a curt nod as he rose from the chair.

Faye watched him walk away, still stunned by all that had happened but unable to imagine what was going through his mind.

Chapter Two

Faye was elbow-deep in dishwater suds when the phone rang. Shaking the soap off her hands, she hurried out to the living room, where Hannah sat playing quietly on the floor, fitting measuring cups onto the heads of her teddy bears as makeshift hats.

Faye scooped up the phone, offering a hasty “Hello?”

“Miss Harper? It’s Simon Blake.”

“Oh, hello,” she said, the rich tone of his voice triggering an abrupt surge in her pulse.

“How is Jenna doing?”

“She’s stable,” Faye reported brightly. After two sleepless nights, she’d learned this morning from Carole that Jenna’s condition was still serious but no longer life-threatening. “They’re keeping her in an induced coma for now, so her brain can continue to heal, but the doctors are optimistic she’ll gradually get better. We just have to be patient.” Faye chose not to voice her fear that Jenna might not wake up to be the same person she had been, or that her injuries might result in permanent disabilities—it was best, she found, to focus on the positive and deal with the outcome once it arrived.