Faking It (11 page)

“Thanks.” He sipped the cold drink and it did feel good going down. Had he eaten today?

Pressing his hand to his chest, he eased into one of the living room chairs. “Take a load off.”

“I’m on my way to power walk along South Beach. You up for it?”

“I probably should, but I’ll take a rain check today.”

She frowned. “Your ticker’s acting up again, isn’t it? Do I need to call someone?”

“I’m fine.” He grated the words through clenched teeth. “Just having an off day.”

“Sorry. Sure you shouldn’t take something?”

“I took my meds this morning. I’ll be okay. Just need to take it easy.”

“Okay. So yesterday was D-day, wasn’t it? I forgot, but I had it marked on my calendar.”

D-day
was her abbreviation for Death Day. “It’s probably pretty twisted that we get together for a big
feast on those days, but Mom gets so melancholy, and when she feels that way she cooks and bakes.”

“So how was it?”

“She ran into a friend of Stace’s who’s married and has a kid. She took it pretty hard. Can’t seem to stop all the what-ifs.”

“I’m sorry, Jack.” She squeezed his arm. “At least she has the rest of you there for her.”

“Yeah, for now.” He patted her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did. You’re really worried about your heart, aren’t you?”

“I may call the doctor tomorrow and talk to him again about the surgery.”

“It’s getting worse?”

He shrugged. “I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Either I get the surgery and put everyone through the hell of worrying I’ll end up like Stacey, or I ignore it like my old man did and wait for it to cut me down one day out of the blue.”

“What about your sexual healer? What’s happening with her?”

“I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “She kind of dumped me yesterday.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a bad thing. She wasn’t what I’d expected.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t seem to have that healing vibe. I pictured her all in control and serene, but she seemed almost distraught. So she dumped you and you’re feeling bad. Let’s look at the other alternatives. What about magnetic therapy? I was reading about that the other day and I think it might be worth a shot.”

“I don’t want to try any more whacked-out alternative therapies. I want Erin. She has the magic touch. Maybe I got a little sick each time, but then I’d feel great—better than great—and I didn’t have a single problem with my heart the whole time we were together.”

“You think she made you sick? I don’t know, Jack. I don’t think she’s so good for you. You haven’t looked that great these past few days. Maybe her healing magic isn’t working with you and your heart doesn’t need the extra strain. Maybe it would be best to cut your losses in this case.”

He didn’t answer, just stared at the phone in his hand. He hadn’t realized he was still holding it. Had she gotten his message yet?

“I’m going to head out, unless you need me to stick around,” Amanda said.

“No, you go ahead. Enjoy the beach. I’ll catch you next time.” He walked her out, then headed back to his bed. The room swam around him and he collapsed in a heap, a dull pain in his chest.

E
RIN PAUSED OUTSIDE
Jack’s door the following afternoon. She felt horrible. Not only had she screwed up everything with Jack by sleeping with him, but also she’d let Tess talk her into that ridiculous plot to set up Thomas and Maggie.

What a disaster that had been. Maggie had caught on to them before they’d gotten the candles lit. Needless to say, she’d been none too pleased with their meddling.

Now Erin had to face her situation with Jack—or at least figure out how to tie up his project in record time, then get the hell out of Dodge. She’d had good reason to set that policy of not dating clients.

She’d called and he hadn’t answered, so hopefully he wasn’t home. She couldn’t face him right now.

She pulled out the key he’d given her, then opened the door. She’d take some measurements, then she’d be able to finish up the plans she’d started for him.

The house was quiet as she’d hoped. Jack didn’t seem to be around. “Hello? Jack? Anyone here?”

She listened for a minute, then pulled her tape measure from her purse, as well as her pen and notebook, and set her things on the coffee table. Tape measure in hand, she marked the dimensions of the room, then recorded them in her notebook.

As she headed into the next room, words from the message Jack had left on her answering machine drifted over her.

All I know is that I’ve felt like hell since you walked out of here yesterday and all I want is for you to come back.

How many times had she picked up the phone to call him? She’d replayed that message at least a dozen times just to hear his voice. But she hadn’t called and here she was sneaking around while he was gone.

She laid down the tape measure, then walked the length of the formal dining room, doing her best to focus on the job at hand. She had to tie this project up as quickly as possible. She’d found some great artwork for this room, if Jack agreed to the color scheme she’d chosen.

She recorded the dimensions of the dining room, then moved on to the kitchen. She should finish up pretty quickly. Still, thoughts of him crowded her mind.

What had he meant when he’d said he’d felt like hell since she walked out? Did he mean emotionally or physically?

Memories of her last morning with him rolled over her. Waking from that wet dream to find it wasn’t a dream at all. She closed her eyes and pushed the memory away. She couldn’t think about that now. Jack had probably paid dearly for that little bit of heaven.

At least he’d been well enough to go out. Whatever illness may have visited him after they’d made love was hopefully short-lived. As far as any emotional discomfort she may have caused him, surely that would be short-lived, as well. He’d get over her. Just as she’d get over him.

Eventually.

She measured the kitchen, then moved down the hall toward his bedroom. How could she work in there with all those memories of him hanging about? She squinted into the darkened room. He hadn’t made the bed or opened the blinds.

She moved to the window. A little sunlight wouldn’t hurt the place. She’d change these blinds for a nice set of drapes.

With a twist of her fingers she flooded the room with daylight. A movement from the bed startled her. She turned, her hand to her heart. Jack struggled to
his side to blink at her, his eyes bleary and filled with pain.

“Oh, my God, Jack.” She rushed to him, her stomach twisting at the sight of him. “What’s happened? What have I done to you?”

He clasped her hand, his grip weak. “It wasn’t you, baby.”

“Then what? What’s wrong?” She smoothed her hand over his cheek, her heart breaking over his obvious pain. “What’s hurting you, Jack?”

“My…heart.”

“Your heart? What’s wrong?” Alarm raced up her spine. She looked around for his phone. “We should call someone. Are you having a heart attack?”

He shook his head. “I have a bad ticker. I was born with it. It’s been acting up a little lately.”

“What do I do? Do you have pills or something?” Her own heart thudded. Panic gripped her.

He grimaced and squeezed her hand. “I’m so glad you came. We need to talk.”

“We will. We’ll talk all you want, but we have to take care of you first. I’m going to call your doctor, okay?”

He nodded.

“Where’s his number?”

“In my wallet, on the dresser. Dr. Carmichael.” He closed his eyes.

Erin frantically scanned the contents of his wal
let until she found the card. “Phone, where’s the phone?”

She tossed aside clothes and bed coverings until she unearthed the phone. She tried the number three times before she punched it in correctly. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she waited through four rings.

Finally a recording answered and she bit her lip as she listened to the options. After what seemed an eternity, she got a live person on the line. “Hello, my name is Erin McClellan. I’m a friend of Jack Langston’s, who is a patient of Dr. Carmichael’s.”

“Do you have Mr. Langston’s health-record number?”

“This is a bit of an emergency. Mr. Langston isn’t well.” She pawed through the contents of his wallet she’d left sprawled across his dresser until she found what looked like an insurance card.

“Try this.” She read the number to the woman. “He’s really not at all well—”

“One moment, please, while I pull up his record.”

“Would it be possible to speak with Dr. Carmichael?”

“Dr. Carmichael is with a patient. What are Mr. Langston’s symptoms?”

“He’s in pain. I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s his heart.”

“Is he conscious?”

She glanced at him. “I think so.”

“Miss, if there’s a chance that he’s having a heart attack, you need to hang up and dial nine-one-one for emergency assistance.”

“Oh, God, of course. I’ll do that.” She hung up and dialed nine-one-one.

Stupid. Stupid. Why had she wasted time calling the doctor?

“Nine-one-one.”

She gripped the phone. “Hi, I need help. I think my friend may be having a heart attack.”

“Okay, stay calm. Let me verify the address and we’ll get a unit out to you right away.”

She verified the address, then answered a number of questions, all while the clock ticked away the minutes. Precious minutes that she’d wasted by not calling nine-one-one immediately, by not calling Jack when she’d gotten his message.

“Is he conscious?”

“Yes.”

“Is he having pain anywhere else besides his chest?”

“Jack, does it hurt anywhere else?”

He shook his head.

“No, just his chest.”

“Any other symptoms? Nausea, sweating, shortness of breath?”

“Jack, any nausea, sweating or shortness of breath?”

Again he shook his head.

“No.”

“How long has he been having the pain?”

“I’m not sure. Here, I think he can talk to you.” She held the phone to Jack’s ear.

He scooted to more of a sitting position. “Hello…off and on since…last night, but it’s gotten really bad just in the last ten minutes…or so.”

He nodded and answered a few more short questions, his words halting. Then he thanked the operator and hung up. He met her gaze and gave her hand a squeeze. “Thanks, baby. They’re dispatching a unit. It should be here in the next fifteen minutes. I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this. Thought I’d be okay.”

“
You’re
sorry?” Her throat burned. “
I’m
sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back yesterday. I’m sorry you’re having this pain. What can I do?”

“Hold me.”

It didn’t seem enough, not nearly enough, but she held him. He turned to her. “We…should talk.”

“Later. I promise. You save your strength for now. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be around to talk all you want after this.”

That seemed to satisfy him for the moment. He closed his eyes, and the quiet of the house settled over
them. She soothed her hand over his chest and wished more than ever that she possessed some kind of healing power.

What she wouldn’t do for this man.

At long last the doorbell rang. She eased herself from him, careful not to jostle him. Then she ran to the door, but it wasn’t the paramedics. Jack’s friend Amanda stood on his front step.

“Amanda.”

“Hi. Erin, right? I thought you two split up.”

“This isn’t a good time. Jack isn’t well.”

A siren sounded in the distance.

Amanda frowned. “Where is he?”

The siren grew louder and an ambulance turned onto the street. Erin sighed in relief. “Thank God.”

She left the door open and hurried back to the bedroom, Amanda on her heels. “What happened?” Amanda asked.

“I don’t know. I came here a short while ago and found him like this. He’s having chest pain.”

“Oh, Jack.” Amanda placed her hand on his forehead. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, buddy.”

“The paramedics are here,” Erin said as the siren stopped and doors slammed in the driveway. She hurried out to find two uniformed paramedics carrying in a stretcher. “This way.”

She stepped back as the paramedics took over.
Moments later she stood outside the ambulance with Amanda as they loaded Jack into the vehicle. She turned to Amanda. “Do you know how to contact his family?”

“He’s not going to want them to know.”

“Why not? He’s close to his family. I know that much.”

“Right, but what you may not know is that yesterday was D-day at the Langston’s. That’s short for Death Day. They have two of them every year. One to mark the day Jack’s father died of a heart attack and one to mark the day his sister died. That was yesterday’s. Seems they have a bad heart valve that runs in their family. Jack’s grandfather had the same problem and died in his late thirties from it. Stacey, Jack’s younger sister, was just sixteen when she started having problems. They did open-heart, but she didn’t make it.”

Erin stared at her, stunned. “I had no idea.”

“Oh, yeah. And he’s been having difficulties for the past six months or so, but he hasn’t breathed a word to the rest of his family. He figures they’ve had enough grief.”

“Oh, my God. This is going to devastate them.”

“No shit. He’s not going to have much choice now.”

“About what?”

“About whether or not to have the same surgery that killed his sister.”

Fear welled up inside Erin. “We don’t know that’ll happen. There’s no use in panicking until we know what’s happening. This might not even be a heart attack.”

“Well, I’m going to call his mother. I’ve met her a few times. Better the news come from me than a stranger.”

A stranger.
Erin stood rooted to the driveway as Amanda headed back into Jack’s condo. That’s what she was. She’d hardly known Jack for a week and so much had happened in that time. It had been one hot, intense, out-of-control week, and now this. He had a whole life history that she knew nothing about. He’d been sick way before he met her.

What if sleeping with her had worsened his condition—had brought on a heart attack?

With a heavy heart she dragged herself inside to retrieve her things. Amanda spoke soothingly into the phone. Erin turned from her, her gut clenched.

Where were her keys? She had to get to the hospital. She might be a stranger to his family, but she was no stranger to Jack. And she had to be there for him, no matter what.

A
LL HOSPITALS HAD THAT
sterile, cold feeling. No amount of bright colors or homey curtains could change that. Erin hugged her arms to her chest and
waited patiently while a man and woman spoke to the attendant behind the counter at the emergency check-in.

Fiberglass chairs hugged the walls and sat in joined rows inside the waiting area surrounded by mauve-colored walls. Half a dozen people or more sat in small groupings, murmuring in soft conversations. One young boy cried and a dark-haired woman comforted him.

The couple moved off, clipboard in hand, and Erin stepped up to the window. “Hi. A friend of mine was just brought in by ambulance. Would it be possible for me to see him?”

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“Jack Langston.”

The woman flipped through some pages on a clipboard. “I don’t have him. Let me see if he’s been entered into the system yet.”

“Thank you.”

Amanda arrived, moving beside her at the counter. “How is he?”

“She’s checking to see if he’s in the system.”

The woman turned from her computer screen. “I’m sorry. He hasn’t been entered yet. Let me call over and make sure he’s here.”

“Thank you.” Erin turned to Amanda. “You spoke with his mother?”

“They’re on the way.”

Erin nodded, feeling bereft. She didn’t even know who “they” were.

The attendant hung up the phone and turned to them. “Jack Langston has just been admitted. The doctor is looking at him now. It’s going to be a little while. You might as well have a seat.”

“Okay, should we just check back here?” Erin asked. “He has family on the way.”

“After the doctor looks at him, he’ll tell the family members what his condition is, but he can’t release any specific information.”

Amanda smirked. “HIPPA regulations.”

“Exactly. We can’t tell you anything unless Mr. Langston signs a paper saying we can. You ladies can wait if you’d like.”

“Thank you.”

They moved off to two chairs in a corner of the waiting area. Amanda held her purse in her lap. “I was afraid something like this was going to happen. I just hoped it wouldn’t.”

“How long have you known Jack?”

“About five years. We met on the beach.” She shook her head. “You don’t have to worry. We’ve never been anything but friends.”

“So what else don’t I know about him?” Erin asked.

“Let’s see…. He’s a great cook. Did you know that?”

“Yes. He made meat loaf.” She cleared her throat. “I guess we never actually ate it, though. But it smelled heavenly.”

“He was pretty young when his father died. He became man of the house then. He took over pretty much everything, not just the cooking. I don’t know how his family would have made it without him. They still struggle to manage. He’s been trying to wean them, but I’m not sure how that’s going. Jack has a hard time letting people down, even if it’s in his best interest.”