Friday's Child (29 page)

****

Tears blurred Elle’s eyes. Two theaters containing the two most important people in her life and there was nothing she could do to help either of them. Except pray.

“Elle?”

She turned towards Mr. Page. “I’m OK.”

He put a gentle hand on her arm. “No, you’re not. Let’s get you back to our place. It’ll be a long while before we hear anything.”

“I should wait here.”

“It’ll be at least seven hours before Patrick comes out and at least ten for Abbie. They’ve got my number and yours. They’ll ring as soon as there is any news.”

“I don’t want to impose…” She broke off. She had nowhere else to go. As far as she knew, she couldn’t go home and she didn’t have a key to Patrick’s place. “I’ll find a chair or something here and just wait.”

“Sure you can impose. You’re family now.” A smile just like Patrick’s creased his father’s eyes and lips. “Your wedding might have been unorthodox, but it makes you our daughter. So let’s go home and wait for news.”

“OK, Mr. Page.”

“It’s Dad. You’re Patrick’s wife, so it’s Dad. Or Sean, if you’d find that easier for the time being.”

Elle smiled. For the first time in a long time she felt accepted for who she was, faults and all, by someone other than God. “Dad sounds good.”

****

Elle jerked awake as the phone rang. It was dark. Her heart pounded as she sat bolt upright. Where was she? How long had she been asleep? Then everything came crashing back down as Liam answered the phone.

“Page residence.” He paused. “Which Mrs. Page? There are two. Sure. I’ll get her for you.” He held the phone out. “It’s for you, Elle. It’s the hospital.”

Her hand trembled as she took the handset. Nausea rose in her throat. “H-hello.”

“Hello, Mrs. Page. This is Sister Melrose from ITU. Just to let you know that Patrick is back with us.”

Elle collapsed back into the sofa. “How…how is he?”

“He’s critical. He’ll be sedated for several hours yet. He’s on a ventilator and several IV’s. If you want to come in and see him, that’s fine.”

“What about Abbie?”

“There’s no news yet. Probably won’t be for another four or five hours.”

“OK. Thanks.” Elle hung up. She let the phone drop into her lap, her whole body shaking.

Liam’s hand covered hers. “Elle? What did they say?”

Glancing up, she saw everyone gathered around her. “Patrick’s back in ITU. He’s critical.” The dam of emotion within her broke and she dissolved into floods of tears.

Over the next few hours, Liam, and Patrick’s parents, or Mum and Dad as she was tentatively calling them, took it in turns to sit with her by Patrick’s bed. His sister, Niamh, had left instructions to call as soon as he woke. She wanted to be there, but she was finding balancing her heavy work load and pregnancy hard and everyone agreed she’d be better off sitting at home, rather than in a hospital waiting room.

Elle held her husband’s hand, talked to him, while the machines beeped and hissed and kept him alive.

It was almost midnight before they brought Abbie in and put her bed next to Patrick’s. Elle watched, biting her nails, as the staff fussed around her daughter. “How is she?”

“It’s too early to tell,” the surgeon said. “We’ll keep her sedated for at least twenty-four hours. Maybe more, depending how she responds. But she’ll be in here for at least three days. Perhaps longer.”

“All right, thank you.”

Liam touched her arm. “Why don’t we go home and get some sleep.”

“I can’t leave them.”

“Sure you can, honey,” Stacey, Patrick’s nurse said. “I’m here, all night. And so is Patty. She’ll be taking care of Abbie. If we need you, we’ll call. Or if you want to call us at any time, you can do that.”

Elle nodded slowly. She stood and leaned over Patrick’s bed. She kissed him gently. “Sleep well, my love. See you tomorrow.”

Then she leant over Abbie’s bed. “You too, squirt. We have a lot to talk about when you wake.” She glanced down at the ring on her finger. “And most of it good.”

****

Over breakfast, Elle looked up as Shay and the tall American came into the kitchen. “Morning.”

Shay smiled. “Hey. Mind if we have a word?”

Her stomach twisted and she pushed the plate of food away. She knew what was coming and part of her wanted to run. She nodded slowly. “Have a seat.”

Dad got up. “I’ll be in the other room. Yell if you need anything.”

“Don’t go.” Elle shook her head, her heart in her mouth as the two officers sat down. She didn’t want to be alone. She couldn’t take any more bad news. And if she was going to be arrested for her part in this mess, she wanted someone there.

Dad sat down again. “OK.”

“What’s happened?” Elle whispered. “Did he get away?”

Shay shook her head. “No. He’s locked up. He isn’t going anywhere this time. No plea bargain, no parole, no nothing.”

“That’s good,” she whispered. Although no doubt he’d have told them how many packages she delivered, what was in them, and how involved she was.

Luke looked at her. “I’m DI Luke Nemec, originally from LA but now from Scotland. Agent Page, Agent Williams, and I were working this case together. I’ve dealt with both RJ and PJ Foster in the past.”

Elle frowned. “PJ said I was his sister. The letter Mum left me said the same thing.”

Luke slid a file over the table to her. It contained official documents, and newspaper cuttings. “You’re his half-sister.”

She shuddered. “I’d rather not be.”

“I can understand that.” Luke nodded. “My wife, Sara, used to be married to Jamie or RJ—PJ’s twin. Jamie faked his own death. Then he and PJ kidnapped her, trying to bring
her
into their drug business.”

Elle shivered. “Like me…”

“Just like you.” Luke smiled. “Sara was pregnant with Jamie’s twins during all this.”

She slowly looked up. “The niece and nephew…”

“Jennifer and Joshua. It’s entirely up to you, but Sara and I are both in agreement here. If you want to stay in touch, see them, you can.”

“Oh…” Tears filled her eyes.

“We don’t need an answer yet. Just think about it.”

She nodded and then studied her hands. “What about the drug trafficking? Aren’t you going to arrest me? I honestly didn’t know what the packages were. I mean, I had my suspicions, but he didn’t give me any choice.”

Even to her, that sounded like a feeble excuse.

“We’ve had instructions to arrest you, yes. Right now, we’re going to treat it as helping with our inquiries. We’ll interview you and you co-operate and it’ll make things easier in the long run. You skip town, however, and you’ll be hauled in faster than you can count to three and remanded in custody.”

Her head shot up to look at him.

“But given the situation, we’ll hold off on arresting you until Abbie is out of intensive care. But no longer.”

She swallowed hard. Knowing it was coming didn’t make it any easier. She felt sick, her hands shaking. There would never be an end to this.

28

Patrick ran around the track, endless circles with no end in sight. Wind and rain fought against him as he tried to reach the finish line. The old adage
just when I can make ends meet, someone moves the ends
ran through his mind as the finish line seemed ever further and further away. His feet pounded the track, squelching in the puddles, rain seeping into his clothes.

A scream echoed and he tripped over a root. He lay there, unable to get up. Water began to rise around him. He struggled to stay afloat. It hurt to breathe and he sank, drowning.

Voices echoed far above him. Hands reached out, but try as he might they were just out of range.

“He’s fighting the vent. Let’s take him off it.”

“It’s OK, Patrick. Just relax.”

He sank below the water, then suddenly he was above it, gasping for breath. Bright lights on the ceiling blinded him, machines surrounded him, beeping and hissing, and pain such as he’d never imagined stapled him, through his stomach, to the bed.

He tried to sit up. Alarms blared, pain sliced, and hands pushed him back down.

“Don’t try to move just yet.”

“Abbie…” he gasped.

“Abbie’s doing fine. You just need to lie still for me.” A mask settled over his face. “We’ll give you something for the pain.”

“Elle…” His voice sounded like it was coming from a long way off. His throat hurt.

“I’ll give her a call, just as soon as you’ve settled.”

Cold ran up his arm, making him gasp and shiver uncontrollably.

The darkness rose and rushed full pelt to meet him, wrapping him in its shadowy embrace. He fell headlong into it.

The next time he fought to open his eyes, bright sunlight filled the room.

“Hey, you’re awake.” The voice sounded tired, but washed over him like a breath of fresh air.

“Elle…” He reached for her hand, gasping in pain.

Her hand took his. “Don’t move. How are you doing?”

“Sore.” He didn’t want to worry her. “How’s Abbie?”

“Still critical. They’re not going to wake her for a while yet.”

“What day is it?”

She smiled. “Sunday morning. I’m about ready to leave for church. I have something for you.” She slid the scrunchie from her wrist onto his. “Your wedding scrunchie. They wouldn’t let you wear it until you came around and said something sensible.”

He struggled to focus on her face. There were two or three of her. Which one was really her? “I’m sorry…really tired again.”

“It’s OK, love. Sleep. I’ll be here again later.” Her lips pressed against his head, smoothing his way back into the darkness.

****

Three days later, Patrick gripped Elle’s arm tightly and shuffled the short distance from his bed on one side of the ward, to Abbie’s bed on the other. He hated this. He hadn’t had a day off sick in his career. He hadn’t even taken leave in years and here he was, unable to even perform the simplest of tasks unaided. Unable to protect those he loved. Forced to stay in bed or shuffle like an old man.

“Slow down,” he gasped, pressing an arm over his abdomen.

“Are you all right?”

“First time out of bed.” Pain threatened to slice him in half and stars danced before his eyes. “At least we’re on the same ward for now.”

“Yeah. When do they move you?”

He sank gratefully into the chair by Abbie’s bed. “I was hoping they wouldn’t. But probably later today as I don’t need an intensive care bed any longer. Or a nurse solely dedicated to my care.” He closed his eyes.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Abbie’s voice carried more than the normal amount of sarcasm. “You finally get your lazy butt out of bed to come visit and you fall asleep.”

Patrick fought to open his eyes. “You can talk. You snore.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

She giggled. “It’s you that snores.”

Elle looked confused. “Did I miss something?”

“Only him snoring,” Abbie told her. “He keeps me awake.”

“Nope, it’s the bloke in the bed next to you.”

“No, it’s you.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Elle, is she always like this? Or did she hit her head when she fell and change into a monster?”

“Pretty much.”

“Which one?”

Abbie laughed, then cried out in pain. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

The nurse winked from where she sat at the end of Patrick’s bed. “Don’t make me come over there and send him back to bed.”

“I’ve only just got up,” Patrick protested. “Give me at least five minutes.”

Abbie scrunched her nose at him. “Before you go back to bed and snore?”

“Something like that.”

Abbie took a deep breath. “I need to talk to you.”

Elle looked at her. “We all need to talk,” she said quietly. “But is here the place to do it?”

“I want to,” Abbie said. “He said I should.”

“Patrick?”

“No. The man with the sword and shiny shirt that spent the past few nights standing at the bottom of my bed…well alternating between mine and Patrick’s beds. He said I needed to let you explain properly without getting cross.”

“That’s our guardian angel.” Patrick reached over and touched her hand. “I saw him. So did Elle, but he didn’t say anything to me like he did to you two.”

“I was angry you kept something from me.”

Elle took her other hand. “I couldn’t tell you. Even though I wanted to. I made a promise and promises matter.”

“Is that why you never had a boyfriend?”

“Yeah, because I gave my heart to your father and didn’t want to lose what we had.” Elle inclined her head slightly. “I have something to show you. Something you would have needed to see eventually anyway.” She picked up her bag and pulled out an envelope. “Here, take a look.”

“What is it?”

“Your birth certificate. Patrick hasn’t seen it either.”

Abbie read it, then gave it to Patrick. “You listed him as my father.”

Patrick read the certificate, tears filling his eyes as he saw his name, place of birth and occupation on the document. A lump filled his throat and he swallowed hard, trying to shift it. He’d never told her where he was born, she must have found out somehow, because she was right. Belfast, Ireland.

“Why did you put him on it, too?” Abbie asked.

“Because it’s a legal document and because it’s the truth. Because I love him, and because I wanted you to have the choice as to whether you contacted him or not, once you learned the truth.”

“Why?”

Elle reached across and slipped Abbie’s mask back on. “Because, squirt, I love you. And I want you to have freedom to make your own choices.”

“What’s that?” Abbie caught Elle’s left hand, pointing to the ring.

Elle turned to Patrick, a flustered look on her face, that he decided was downright cute.

He squeezed Abbie’s hand. “Things happened really quickly on Thursday, the day you fell off the swing. The fall did more damage to your liver and they had to operate sooner than they planned. I asked Elle to marry me. I wanted her to know I loved her, and I needed to know she’d be looked after should anything go wrong. That you’d both be looked after if anything happened to me.”