Exposed to You (25 page)

Everett’s throat tightened. He shut his eyes. It wasn’t fair. How could such a unique, lovely woman like Joy be forced to struggle and suffer so much?

“Joy doesn’t believe that you can’t handle things, Everett,” Seth said quietly. “She doesn’t want you to
have
to handle it. In her own words, she wouldn’t wish what she endured on her worst enemy, let alone you.”

Everett cursed softly.

“She feels she never had a choice in the matter. She was a child, a dependent, while Alice was sick for all those years. She’s afraid that if the choice had ever been given to her as an adult, like it was her father, she’d choose as he did. She wouldn’t, of course. Not in a million years. Joy loves very deeply. There were plenty of times I had to pull her away from her mother’s bedside because she was half dead with exhaustion. It’s her self-doubt, her fears, that are at the heart of things.”

“And so she keeps people away. She’s taking away the necessity for people like me or you to choose to be with her, in health or in suffering,” Everett said starkly, understanding bringing a heavy wave of sadness along with it.

Seth nodded. “I think it’s both—she feels guilty for subjecting others to her condition. She also, in her own way, is protecting the people she cares about from having to make the choice of being with her or not.”

Everett closed his eyes and felt the burn. “Part of her hates herself for understanding Jake’s need to escape.”

“Yes,” Seth said heavily.

“Why are you telling me all this, Seth?” Everett asked after a long pause.

“Because Joy only opened up to me, she only told me what’s been in her heart all these years, when I suggested that she speak to you about her cancer. I saw how passionate she was—how desperate—for you not to know. She wanted to protect you at all costs.”

“How will I convince her that I would choose to be with her, no matter what happens?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if it’s possible.”

Everett looked at him incredulously.

“The only thing I know is that I haven’t been able to get through to her so far. Perhaps it takes the type of feelings she has for you, versus those for an uncle, to truly break through to her.”

His heart started to thud loudly in his ears. “You think she really cares about me?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here talking to you right now.”

Everett inhaled slowly. “I should go,” he said, gazing toward the path.

“I’ll stay here for a while, but here,” Seth said, stepping toward him. Everett gave him a dubious glance when he handed him the keys to his rental car.

“I already have a car,” Everett said.

“No. There’s something in the trunk for you. From Joy.”

Everett glanced up in surprise.

“She gave me some money and a note for you last night, and made a request that I purchase something while I was in St. Louis this morning. It’s in the trunk of the car.”

“Thanks,” Everett said, accepting the keys.

“Everett?” Seth called.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning only his chin, impatient to be gone.

“Good luck.”

Everett nodded once and strode toward the path with a hasty determination.

*   *   *

When he reached the circular turnabout in front of Rill and Katie’s house, he immediately approached Seth’s rental car. He popped the trunk. It was empty save for a square box. He drew off the lid and immediately saw a folded note with his name on it in Joy’s handwriting. He picked it up. The notepaper had the insignia and address for Prairie Lakes Hospital on it. Beneath it, he read:

Everett,

I have never met another person who lived life with so much passion and grace. I count myself lucky to have known you. Please, please . . . take good care of yourself?

Always,

Joy

He flipped back the paper and saw a brand-new pair of men’s high-end running shoes.

He stared, thinking of how he’d said he’d be the one to buy her all the shoes she wanted. Here, she’d done it for him, and the gesture meant so much more than his hollow offer because Joy didn’t have the financial means to go around buying expensive running shoes.

Bitterness rose in him when he thought of how she must have considered his condescending, cavalier attitude toward his health and good fortune, how he never questioned it, like he was some kind of fucking self-righteous prince of the realm.

He slammed the trunk so hard, it rocked the car.

“Everett?” Katie called a few seconds later. He glanced up to where she stood on the front porch, the box clutched against his chest. “Where have you been?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said as he strode toward the guesthouse. He’d get in the shower, pack a few things and be on the road in three minutes flat.

“Then what
does
matter?” Rill called.

Everett paused. Rill had walked out onto the porch after Katie and stood next to her. He tossed Seth’s car keys to his friend. Rill caught them without ever taking his gaze off Everett.

“Joy. I’m going after her,” Everett said.

The last thing he saw was Rill raise his eyebrows at his adamancy, and then nod as if Everett had just uttered the most reasonable thing on earth.

Nineteen

Joy paused in the action of flipping the channel with her remote control in her hospital room when she saw Everett’s face on the screen. She tried desperately to find the volume control on the device while not removing her gaze from his image. He was talking soberly to a famous daytime talk show diva. His goatee was in place, so Joy knew it couldn’t have been a live interview. It must have been recorded last week when he’d been doing all those rounds of publicity appearances.

“Do you think you’ll ever settle down and get married?” the talk show host asked in the friendly, confidential tone for which she was known.

“Oh yeah. Family is very important to me.”

“So what’s holding you back?”

“Finding the right woman.”

“You have a studio full of women right here who would be happy to audition for the part,” the host joked. The camera panned to the small arena filled almost exclusively with cheering, whistling women before it cut back to Everett. Now that Joy had grown to know him, she noticed that his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s not a
part
. But thanks, I’m flattered,” he said, softening the edge in his tone and smiling at the audience. “Actually, I think I’m doing okay with my own search.”

The host’s eyebrows shot up with interest. “I’m sensing there’s a story here.”

“No, no story,” Everett said, shaking his head. “Just someone special.”

“Can you tell us something about her?” the host coaxed.

“Sure. She’s very private,” Everett replied unblinkingly.

For a split second, the host looked taken aback at his subtle remonstrance for her prying. Then Everett grinned—full out and brilliant—and of course he was forgiven. Both the audience and the host broke into laughter.

“Joy?” A voice penetrated her intense focus on the television screen and the sound of her pumping heart in her ears. She blinked and turned her head, seeing Dr. Chen standing next to her bed.

“Dr. Chen,” she said breathlessly, fumbling with the remote control. She turned the TV off. “I’m sorry, I was just—”

“Everett Hughes. I saw,” he said, grinning knowingly.

She gave a hollow laugh.

Had Everett been talking about
her
on that talk show?

She felt a little sick all of a sudden. Disoriented.

Heartsore.

“Can we do the procedure now?” she asked Dr. Chen, forcing her mind into the world of the mundane versus the flash of Everett’s smile.

Unfortunately, after she’d been admitted, the surgery had been delayed due to the fact that her temperature had gone up again and was over one hundred. Dr. Chen didn’t want her to undergo general anesthesia until it at least dipped below ninety-nine degrees. Joy had been forced to wait for three hours now, willing her fever to go down the whole time.

“The nurse is about to come and do your vitals. If your fever has gone down, we’ll take you to the OR right away. I just heard from the anesthesiologist that she’s got an opening.”

Joy held her breath in anticipation as the nurse took her temperature. She hated the fact that she’d already been in there longer than she’d expected.

“Ninety-eight point eight,” the nurse said.

Joy glanced triumphantly at Dr. Chen, and he gave her a thumbs-up.

“I’ll send over some transporters to transfer you,” Dr. Chen said before he left.

Joy set aside the remote control and lay back on the flat, uncomfortable hospital pillows. Why had she been so eager to get the procedure underway? she wondered as her familiar dread for the general anesthesia rose like an encroaching shadow ready to pounce. She started to panic.

What if she never woke up? Why hadn’t she asked Seth to be here with her?

Had she done the stupidest thing she’d ever done in her life by telling Everett good-bye? She had an overwhelming desire to call him. She sprang up and fumbled with the phone on the bedside table. A young man dressed in white knocked on her door and rolled a gurney into the room.

Slowly, Joy set down the receiver.

*   *   *

Everett saw a meter maid writing out parking tickets a half a block away. Crap. He couldn’t believe they gave out tickets at night. He glanced at the sign posted at the side of Joy’s street. Apparently, vehicles were supposed to have a neighborhood sticker to park here legally.

For the two hundredth time since he’d arrived in Chicago that evening, he looked at the brownstone where Joy lived. Her apartment remained dark. She wasn’t answering when he buzzed her intercom. She wouldn’t pick up her cell phone.

Where the hell was she? What if she was up there in her apartment, sick and fevered? His thoughts about picking the locks to get into her place fractured when he heard a tap on the windshield of his rental car. He glanced up and saw the meter maid—a short, light brown–skinned woman of about fifty—squinting at him. She waved her hand toward the street as if to say
Get going and I won’t ticket
you.

Everett shrugged and gave her a sheepish glance, wishing she’d just give him the ticket and leave him alone. Joy’s street was lined on both sides with bumper-to-bumper cars. He wasn’t going to give up his prized spot. Instead of ignoring him, however, the meter maid shone a flashlight in his eyes and indicated she wanted him to roll down his window. He pulled down the bill on his cap and followed her instructions with a resigned sigh.

“What’re you doing?” she asked bluntly.

“I was waiting for a friend,” he said, tilting his chin toward Joy’s brownstone. A thought occurred to him. “Hey, have you passed this street earlier today? You haven’t seen her coming in or out, have you? The woman who lives in that brownstone? Real pretty, short brown hair, great legs—”

“Joy,” the meter maid stated rather than asked.

“Yeah,” Everett said, leaning forward eagerly. “Have you seen her by chance?” He squinted when she shone the flashlight full in his face. He ducked his head.

“You could pass as a double for that guy—Everett Hughes,” the woman said, peering at him.

He slunk back into the shadows. “That’s what I’ve been told a time or two. Hear it more when I have a goatee,” he mumbled, wondering belatedly why he hadn’t thought to do a foreign accent to further disguise himself. “Have you seen Joy or not?”

“Are you going to move this car, or do you want a ticket?”

“I’ll take the ticket,” Everett said. He started to roll up his window, but the meter maid tapped on it lightly with her flashlight, glaring at him. He waited resignedly while she filled out the ticket and handed it to him.

“Gee, thanks,” he said with tired sarcasm.

“My pleasure. And I did see Joy today when I was ticketing early this morning. She caught a cab up at the corner. She had a bag on her shoulder, like she was going somewhere,” the woman said, giving him a significant glance.

“Thanks,” he said, meaning it this time.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Hughes,” the woman said.

Everett watched her while she moved on to leave her cheerful little greeting on the windshield of the next car. He’d already called Seth a half hour ago to clarify what he’d told him earlier: Joy wasn’t supposed to go in for her procedure until tomorrow morning. Why wasn’t she at home? He replayed his conversation earlier by the lake with Seth.

I don’t have complete faith that she’s telling the truth about this procedure she’s having done in Chicago. I think things could be worse than she’s letting
on.

The meter maid glanced up, watching him as he backed up the car a foot, swung it into a tight U-turn and accelerated down the dark street.

*   *   *

A half hour later, he leaned against the circular information desk at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. The security guard behind the desk was elderly, his snowy white hair a bright contrast to his dark brown skin. Everett had learned that his name was Nathan.

“We got some of the spillover from the traffic from that premiere of yours over here by the hospital the other night,” Nathan said, giving Everett a condemning glance.

“That’s terrible,” Everett said. “They should control traffic flow better around a hospital.”

“Especially when we’ve got the busiest ER in the city,” Nathan added pointedly. “Imagine how bad you’d feel if all those crowds got in the way of your sister—what’s her name? Joy Hightower?—getting treatment as quick as she needed it.”

“Yeah. All because of a stupid movie.”

“It wasn’t stupid, though,” Nathan said, his sudden amiability suggesting he’d admonished Everett sufficiently for being inconsiderate enough to plan his premiere near a hospital. “The missus and I saw it the other night. She wants to see it again.”

“I’ll send some tickets here to the hospital. Which theater would you like to see it at?” he asked, resisting a strong impulse to check his watch out of impatience.

“That’d be mighty nice of you! Margaret will be over the moon when I tell her about meeting you.”

Everett jotted down the name of the theater along with the security guard’s name.

“It’s a real shame about your plane getting in late and your missing out on visitors’ hours,” Nathan said offhandedly as he plucked at his computer keyboard.

“Yeah. Rotten luck,” Everett said, gazing longingly at the bank of elevators behind the security desk.

“I saw you in the spy movie—
Killer Instinct
. You reckon you learned anything about being sneaky in that movie?”

Everett blinked. “Tons. I may look clueless, but that’s just an act.”

Nathan hid a grin. “You’d have to be slick to avoid the night nurse on the eighth floor. Name’s Edna Shanoy, and she’d scare the daylights out of a
real
CIA agent if she ever caught him on her floor past visiting hours.”

“Thanks, Nathan,” Everett said earnestly.

“For what?” Nathan asked mildly, turning his attention to his monitors.

*   *   *

Everett took the stairs instead of the elevators, not having ever learned enough skills while playing a spy to know how to muffle the sound of an elevator door opening. He was glad he had, because the hall he stepped into on the eighth floor was amazingly hushed, dim and inactive at midnight. He saw no one as he hurried down the hall, peering into several doors and realizing he wasn’t on the medical unit proper. These weren’t patient rooms. He stayed in the shadows of a door recess and stuck his head out. Ahead, he saw a bright light and a young nurse with a sweet, round face and short auburn hair rise from her seat at the nursing station and walk into a room behind it. This close, Everett could see the patient rooms were straight ahead of the nursing station.

Ideal location for a nurse to see her patients’ rooms; less than perfect for an interloper.

He plunged down the hallway before the young nurse returned, dipping into the first patient room on the right. Four times, he struck out miserably, his only saving grace that all of the patients were sleeping when he snuck up to look at them. He checked the nursing station before he reentered the hallway again and held a curse. The nurse had returned. He waited until her back was to him as she returned a chart to the cart and darted into the room directly to the right of him.

The bed closer to the door was empty, the bed neatly made. The privacy curtain had been partially pulled, making it impossible for him to see the identity of who was in the other bed. He pushed the door closer to the “shut” position, but still left it open enough not to raise suspicion. How was it that hospital patients were granted no privacy whatsoever? he wondered irritably.

He knew he’d found Joy. He had no idea how. Maybe her singular scent somehow lingered in the air. Maybe he knew because of the way his already pounding heart started to do a battle-like drumbeat in his ears.

He stood by the side of her bed, looking down at her. They’d left on the light just above her head. The fierce beating against his eardrums seemed to wane and almost stop. She lay fast asleep, her face very pale, an IV inserted into her arm. He realized he was holding his breath, waiting to see her chest rise and fall. He couldn’t see the subtle movement in the loose-fitting hospital gown, and so, desperate, he moved closer to her and placed his hand over the top swell of her left breast.

He felt her warmth and the precious beat of her heart next to his palm. His pulse began to throb again at his throat.

There was a white bandage at the side of her neck. Was that from the biopsy? Had there been some complication with the procedure? Is that why she’d had to stay overnight and required an IV?

He looked around anxiously for a medical chart, but recalled they were kept behind the nursing station. Joy’s hospital room seemed barren. Only a plastic glass and pitcher of water, some Chapstick, a napkin and a book lay on the bedside table. In some of the other patient rooms he’d sneaked into, he’d seen flowers around the beds, cards from family members, he realized, a pain going through him.

He picked up the book and saw it was a worn copy of
Razor Pass
. He set it down and almost turned away before he halted. He picked up the napkin that had been partially covered by the book. His face looked back at him. Once again, he marveled at how Joy had managed to capture so perfectly in his gaze what he felt as he looked at her in that classroom—the essence of what he was only beginning to comprehend.

He set the sketch on the table.

He walked over to the far side of Joy’s bed and carefully lowered the metal rail, wincing at the squeaky metallic sound the hinges made. Hadn’t this thing ever been lowered? She stirred almost imperceptibly at the noise.

“Joy?” he said quietly, sitting on the edge of her bed.

She didn’t budge, but he thought he saw her eyelids flicker.

“You didn’t want anyone here, but I’m here anyway,” he said gruffly.

He touched her cheek, and then came down in the bed next to her. He curled on his side, trying to make his large body as innocuous as possible on the narrow bed. With his arm just above her waist and his hand opened along the side of her rib cage, he could feel her slow, even breathing more easily. Through the sanitized, slightly chemical odor that clung in hospitals, he inhaled her floral scent.