Kiss Me Awake (30 page)

She turned her eyes on Spencer.
God’s will
. It was in her desperation that she had prayed for God’s will, not considering what that might mean. What if it was His will to take Spencer from the earth? What would she do then? 

She didn’t want to think about that. She reached for his hand and cupped it in her own, dreading the confession she was about to make. There were no reparations, nothing to right her wrongs, only repentance and a hope for grace. She’d received forgiveness from God, but would Spencer be equally merciful?

She pressed the back of his hand to her cheek. “You promised me something the day you brought me home. Do you remember? You told me that you would always take care of me.” Jaida paused and watched his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, making sure…

“I was fifteen when you shared that secret with me.” She didn’t understand the weight of his promise, the burden he carried. Not at the time. “You’re a man of your word, Spencer. You always have been. But you were only a child when you made that promise. You didn’t have to follow through on it.”
You didn’t have to marry me.

“I knew you would never leave me. Not physically, anyway, but it was only a matter of time before you realized your mistake.” Just like her father and her mother. “So I left you first.”

“The truth is, I’ve always loved you.” Until last night, she
thought she’d eluded that love, outwitted it. But it lived. It was a force, a being that possessed a will of its own. She couldn’t run from it any more than she could run from God.

Hot tears slid down her cheeks. “I’ve done so many unforgivable things, and I am so sorry. I want…I need you to forgive me.”
Please forgive me.

She glanced up at the monitor, at the digits that blinked erratically. The numbers stumbled, falling, falling like a spiraling stock market crash, the steady ping of the monitor replaced with one long uninterrupted tone. 

Jaida leapt to her feet. “Somebody, help!” she cried. But they were already there, a trained faction preassembled before they tore into the room and pushed her out into the hall, the medical team crowding around Spencer. 

No, God, no!

J
aida
folded at the ache in her middle and sank to her knees on the tile floor as though it was quicksand. She startled at the high-pitched cry then sobbed when she realized it came from her.

Inside
the room directives were shouted, and questions asked. The amalgamation of commands and inquiries bounced back and forth like a tennis ball alive in a match, one colliding with the other. And from the sound of it, they were losing him.
She
was losing him.

It didn’t happen the way she thought, but her fears had not been unfounded. Predictive or just an unlucky guess, she’d been right all along. Spencer would leave her. 

Hard rubber soles slapped against the tile. A pair of white lace-up shoes stopped in front of her, coffee stains speckling the finish. Or was it blood?

“Excuse me, but you can’t stay here.” It was a woman’s
voice. A thick hand with nails clipped short swung down in front of her face. “Let me help you up.”

Jaida slapped it away. “Leave me alone.” 

“Honey, we have the best in the field in there doing everything they can.”

Jaida processed the woman’s words then lifted her gaze from the stained shoes to the round face. It was a nurse. “Are you saying he’ll live?” she asked.

Her lips flattened. “I’m saying he’s getting the best of care.”

God’s will.
Just like she’d prayed, Spencer’s healing—his destiny—was in God’s hands. Not the surgeon’s.

The hand swung down again in a second attempt to remove her from the hallway. This time she could sense the demand. Jaida gripped it then rose to her feet.

The woman’s hand went instantly to the small of her back. “We need to keep this hallway clear.” She ushered her past the nurse’s station and out to the main hall.

“We have staff available, specially trained to help you through the grieving process.”

“Grief counseling?”

“I know this is a difficult time.” Her cold, efficient manner turned motherly, the woman patted her arm. “If you’ll just wait right here, I’ll call someone for you.”

“No thanks, I’ll pass,” she said.

The nurse appeared agitated, unsure what to do with her. “The cafeteria should still be open. Why don’t you go downstairs and get a cup of coffee?”

Coffee? Her husband was dying, and she was sending her for coffee? Was she that desperate to be rid of her, to make her someone else’s problem? Jaida turned and walked away. She found the elevator at the end of the hall and rode it down to the first floor.

The double doors of the chapel were arched, fashioned in maple, and propped open at the far side of the lobby. She hurried inside, desperate for an infusion of hope.

Pillar candles on either side of the altar were centered on tapered silver holders, silent white flames licking up the wicks. The light drew her in, and the cross that hung above the altar—it was a beacon for the lost and hurting.

“Come to me all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
The invitation was almost audible, and Jaida responded, moving toward the rough-hewn beams joined by crudely twined rope. She knelt, surrendering to the grief.

God would answer her, she knew He would, but would it be an answer she could live with? She plucked a tissue from the box tucked under the pew and blew her nose. It was time she went back upstairs and faced whatever awaited her, but she didn’t want to do it.

“Jaida.”

She turned. Auggie was standing in the doorway still as a stone, his features flat and unsmiling. He was the messenger, the bearer of bad news. It was written all over his face. She stood and discarded the wadded tissue in the trashcan stowed in the corner then looked up at him, steeling herself.

He took a step inside and pulled both doors closed behind him. Was he afraid she would make a scene?

“Is he…?” Unable to finish, she swallowed, warding off a fresh wave of tears.

His eyes darted around the room, looking at everything but her. “Next to a confessional, I guess this is about the best place to do this,” he said.

He wasn’t making any sense. She reached for the back of the pew, her fingers digging into the wood. Waiting.

“I don’t know how to tell you this. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but…”

She was a coward, she kept her eyes on the floor, her fists clutching tighter around the pew back. 

“You need to hear this from me. Not from Baseel, or the news if it comes down to that. And I know this is the worst possible time to drop this on you, but I have no choice.”

She looked up at him then. “What are you talking about?”

He slid his hands into his pockets and raised his chin. “I took Gale’s money,” he said. “I was the one who emptied the accounts.”

What was he saying? Was Spencer dying? She didn’t understand. Wasn’t Spencer the reason he was here?

His eyes never left hers. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Sorry for what? Did Spencer die? Her mind couldn’t make the leap, but slowly his words sank in.
The money. He was talking about the money.

“It was you?” she asked. How could he have done this? She trusted him.

“Please, don’t look at me like that.”

“You betrayed me.”  

He rubbed a hand over his head and then looked away again. “I’m taking care of it, making it right the best I can. I’ve already talked to the head of the agency. He knows.”

“All this time…you had the money all this time, and you said nothing?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

She railed, unleashing her rage. “Spencer is dying because of you.” She closed the gap between them and shoved at his chest. “How could you do this?”

“I know. I didn’t think anyone would get hurt or that Gale would go after you. I’m sorry.”

A humorless laugh jerked from her chest. “I thought you came here to tell me that Spencer didn’t make it. That he was dead.”

“Why would you think that? The doctor said he was fine. I was right there with you.”  

Her gaze fell to the floor. “Not anymore. His heart stopped.”

“Chica, I had no idea.” He reached out to comfort her, but she held up a hand to warn him off.

Together they headed back to CCU in silence. Dr. Bowman stood in the hall. He had his head bent over an open chart spread out on the counter at the nurse’s station. One of the nurses saw her approach, whispered something to the doctor and pointed her out.

He looked up from his paperwork, his eyes meeting hers. “Mrs. Gordon, we’ve been looking all over for you.” He clicked the pen in his hand closed and tucked it into his shirt pocket.

“How is he?” she asked. Was he alive, dead, or still teetering somewhere in between? The uncertainty was tearing her apart one piece at a time.

“Your husband had been doing so well that we couldn’t understand what went wrong. But there was just too much blood loss, and with the trauma to his chest…”

He never answered. Not in words, but she filled in the blanks. He started down the hall. So this was it? This was how it ended? He turned suddenly and waved at her to follow. Was he taking her to the body?

When she caught up to him he said, “As I was saying, we’re baffled as to why his heart stopped, and equally so as to how he pulled out of it. It’s a miracle, really. Not that I put much stock in them, but there’s no other explanation.”

She grabbed his arm. “You mean he’s alive?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” He waved a hand in the direction of the room she’d been pushed out of. Spencer still occupied the bed, his head propped up and a sheet covering him to the waist.

She went inside and drew the curtain closed, acutely aware of how closely Spencer watched her. Heavy lidded, his eyes followed every move she made. Did he not want her here after all?

Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat. She didn’t deserve to be here, to be taking her place at his side as his wife. She’d burned that bridge a long time ago.

His intense gaze made her uncomfort
able. She busied her hands. Reaching for his box of apple juice, she tore off the straw and plunged it through the top.

“Did you mean it?” he asked. His words were soft, a mere whisper.

She stilled. Mean what? And then she remembered what she had said to him in the canyon when she thought he was going to die.
I love you.
The declaration came back to haunt her.

Jaida wrestled with the denial that was on her lips, the fear that crept in, but this time she won. She pushed the tray away from the bed, slipped off her sandals, and carefully stretched out beside him, molding her body to his. It was only a matter of time before they tossed her out
, but for now…

She lightly brushed her lips against his cheek, the soft skin bristly with a day’s growth of whiskers, then laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, reveling in the moment. “Yes, Spencer. I meant it.”  

S
hell pink and antique white, it was the color scheme chosen for Laurel’s party. The Victorian touch was elegant but slightly out of sync with the modern dayroom decorated in shades of blue and brown.

“I’m here,” Jaida said. “It took awhile to get this wrapped.” She held up the p
int-sized square box dressed in yellow and white paper and topped with a frilly white bow.

She dropped her purse on a chair then set the gift next to the bouquet of English roses. The blooms were freshly cut and arranged in a blown Bohemian glass vase, the cranberry shade complementing the pink and white roses perfectly.

“Everything looks perfect.” She tipped her head back and looked up at the crepe streamers, twisted and draped in a delicate arc overhead.

“Yes it does,” Spencer said, sliding his arms around her waist. Jaida sank back against his chest, absorbing every wonderful beat of his heart.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. His soft breath tickled her ear, and she found herself tearing up.

She turned in his arms then and kissed him lightly on the mouth, too choked up to say what was in her heart. He brushed his thumbs under her eyes and gave the sides of her chin a quick squeeze until she smiled back.

He knew her too well. Knew that she was fretting. She’d missed out on so much and failed those she loved most. He kept telling her not to look back, but forward since that was the direction she was going, but some days were harder than others, and days like today were when the regrets came out to haunt her.

He held her away from him and clasped her hands. “You look nice,” he said. “
Really
nice.” Grinning, he took in the azure dress she wore. The way he looked at her warmed her insides and brought a blush to her cheeks.