Morgan's Rescue (34 page)

     
Culver nodded gratefully. First he'd talk with the surgeon,
then
he'd get a hot shower, shave and put on some clean clothes. After that he'd sit with Pilar. She wouldn't know he was there, but that didn't matter.

     
Culver awoke instantly when Pilar regained consciousness for the first time. He'd been sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to her bed, his head tipped back against the wall. Major Houston had a lot of power in
Tarapoto
Hospital
, Culver had discovered very quickly. Ordinarily, visitors weren't allowed to stay in intensive care, but
Houston
had seen to it that he was allowed to sit with Pilar. The beeps and sighs of machines surrounded him as he tried to shake off the grogginess.

     
Culver had completely lost track of time. He'd nodded off while stroking Pilar's cool, limp hand. The clock on the wall read 6:00 p.m., so he must have slept a long time. Blinking away the drowsiness, he focused on Pilar.

     
She lay with IVs in both arms, her shoulder heavily bandaged beneath a light blue gown. Her hair, once muddy and tangled, had been washed. Though it hadn't been combed very well, the strands lay like shining raven's wings about her pale face. Her once-beautiful lips were badly cracked. Culver had been told that more than anything else, Pilar had been dehydrated. At once he'd realized she must have been denied water since her capture. He wanted to kill Ramirez for his inhumanity. But now the IVs fed her life-giving fluids to help her body fight off the massive infection.

     
Culver turned to call for a nurse, but she was already there. His attention riveted on Pilar, who had begun to move her head slightly. She closed and opened her mouth, whispering something. Leaning closer until his ear nearly touched her lips, Culver strained to hear her words.

     
"Rane…Culver…"

     
Holding her fingers in his, Culver swallowed with difficulty. The nurse, after checking the monitors, seemed satisfied.

     
"Is she doing okay?" Culver asked.

     
"
Si, señor.
She is becoming conscious. I will get the doctor."

     
Relief swept through him. He leaned down and placed a kiss on Pilar's frowning forehead. "Hush,
mi querida,
" he told her. "Everything is fine. You're going to make it. You hear me? You're going to live. Rane is safe, and so am I.
Just rest."
He watched the wrinkles on her brow ease. Somehow, Pilar had heard him and responded. The knowledge shook him to his soul. Her thick, dark eyelashes stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin.

     
Lifting his hand, he began to caress her hair with gentle strokes designed to soothe her. Pilar wasn't moving much, but he could feel a shift in energy around her. And then he laughed harshly at himself; he was so deprived of sleep he wasn't sure whether he was dreaming or if this was real. Still, her small, slender fingers in his hand provided a definite connection to reality. As Culver looked down at her, he felt his heart open like a flower. Without thinking, just following his instincts, he leaned forward and gently laid his mouth on hers in a kiss designed to breathe life and strength back into her.

     
"Eh, Señor Lachlan?" the nurse inquired.

     
Culver broke the kiss and looked up. The doctor and nurse stood expectantly in the doorway. "Oh…yeah, come and take a look at her, Doc." He flushed a little as he stood up and stepped aside. "I think she's going to make it. What do you think?"

     
It didn't take the doctor long to make his assessment. He briefly studied the raw, swollen wound briefly and had the nurse apply a new dressing. He nodded his gray head when he took her blood pressure. As he lifted each eyelid to check her pupils with a small light, he even had the ghost of a smile on his mouth.

     
"You are right, Señor Lachlan," Dr. José murmured as he straightened and looked across the bed at him. "Señora Martinez will live."

     
Joy swept through Culver, strong and overwhelming. He stared at the tall doctor. "She's going to live?"

     
He smiled slowly.
"
Sí.
You are a tough
hombre,
eh? Maybe it was you being here that made the difference.
Your love for her.
Your prayers, perhaps?
Or—" he pointed to the small medicine bag that Pilar still clutched in one hand "—maybe the power of her jaguar medicine."

     
Culver struggled to find words as emotions overwhelmed him. Pilar was going to live. Live! Gulping, he rasped, "Or maybe all the above, Doctor?"

     
Tapping his chest, the doctor smiled wider. "Many times I have seen people hover in the arms of death in this room. I see the families of these patients sitting in the lobby, praying for them. Prayer is very powerful, eh?
Especially prayers of a loved one.
No, I think your love brought her back to us. I do not take the medicine of the jaguar lightly, for I've seen it work, too. But there is nothing like the heart, eh?" He gestured to the chair. "
Señor,
you still need sleep. She has decided to come back and live with you on this earth. The nurse will show you to a room with a bed. If Señora Martinez awakens, I will have someone come and get you."

     
Culver studied Pilar, who had sunk into a healing sleep. The bed sounded damned inviting. "Yeah, I'd like that, Doctor. Thanks…"

     
Culver awoke
on his own
. Glancing sleepily at his watch, he realized it was six in the morning. Hoisting his feet over the side of the narrow bed, he sat up. A small knock sounded on the door and he looked up.

     
"Come in."

     
A nurse poked her head in the door. "Señora Martinez is awake and asking for you,
señor.
"

     
Instantly, Culver was on his feet. He still hadn't shaved, but at least he'd showered and had clean clothes. The nurse couldn't walk fast enough to keep up with him as he hurried down the hallway toward ICU. Dr. José was standing just outside Pilar's glass-enclosed room, and he smiled as Culver approached.

     
"She is asking for you,
señor.
"

     
His heart soared. Yet it pounded with dread, too. As Culver reached the glass enclosure, his gaze swept immediately to Pilar, who was sitting up in bed, propped by many pillows. Her dark eyes looked almost black in her ghostly face. Yet when their eyes met, Culver felt his heart mushroom with joy, leaving him breathless. Entering the room, he closed the door quietly behind him. Someone had brushed Pilar's hair, and it shone like an ebony frame around her oval face. The look she gave him was shy and uncertain. Why?

     
Reaching her bedside, he took her delicate face between his hands. His eyes filled with tears as he croaked, "Welcome back,
mi querida…
" Culver leaned down and brushed his mouth against Pilar's lips, feeling her soft response to his tender foray. It was all he could ask for. Sensing her weakness, he eased his mouth from hers and allowed her to lean back against the pillows.

     
Pilar's eyes were luminous with tears as she stared up at him. He saw that she had the medicine bag gripped in her right hand, resting on her blanketed stomach. Retrieving a chair, Culver brought it over and sat down close to her. He laid his hand on her arm and discovered she felt full of life now, not death.

     
"How are you feeling?" he asked thickly.

     
Pilar sighed softly and studied him. "Very weak," she
said,
her voice rough from disuse. "I—I didn't think I would live."

     
"I know." His fingers tightened briefly on her arm. "A lot of people were praying for you."

     
Her throat constricted. "You stayed…"

     
He frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

     
Pilar felt a panic cut through the calming effect of the painkilling drugs. "I thought I dreamed it—or maybe I did not. . . ." She gazed at him. Culver's face was shadowed by several days' growth of beard, giving him a dangerous look. His eyes were bloodshot, his features haggard with exhaustion. His hair, too, was uncombed, and she longed for the simple strength to lift her fingers and tame some of those dark strands back into place.

     
"What are the tears for?" he inquired gently, taking his thumbs and wiping the moisture from her cheeks. "Pilar?"

     
Closing her eyes, she absorbed his grazing touch. Oh, how strong Culver was. "Did I dream saying it?" she asked brokenly. She felt his fingers drift away from her face and his hand move slowly up and down her arm, as if to soothe her. Pilar had no strength to protect herself from whatever answer he might give her. She thought she'd told him Rane was his child. But had she? Or had it been a fevered hallucination? Wearily, she forced open her lashes and looked up at him. The tenderness burning in his eyes would dissolve when she told him.

     
Gathering what little courage remained to her, she murmured, "Rane…is your daughter…our child. . . ." She could barely hold his gaze. Trying to steel herself against the coming explosion, Pilar realized she was completely defenseless, with no way left to shield her raw emotions. Had she been brought back from the upper world by the jaguar goddess to tell him the truth? Was that why she had been sent back through the tunnel of light into her body?

     
Culver's lips parted, and he felt hot tears well into his eyes. He reached over and covered the hand that gripped the medicine bag. "I
know,
mi querida.
You told me out in the jungle when you were dying. Don't you remember?"

     
His voice was rough with emotion and to Pilar's shock, she could detect no recrimination in Culver's eyes—only the tears that had begun to wind down his cheeks, disappearing into the bristles of his dark beard. Short-circuited, her senses spun. She
had
told him! "But…you are still here. . . ." she whispered weakly.

     
Culver slowly stood, then leaned over and framed her face with his hands. Pilar looked so frightened, so unsure. He understood why. "Listen to me," he said rawly, his voice gruff with emotion, "I love you, Pilar. I love Rane. Nothing matters to me but the two of you. Do you understand?" He blinked and looked up. "I didn't want to lose you. When I got you to that chopper, all I could think was that Rane was ours, and that I didn't want you to die."

     
Gazing at her, not caring that he was crying, Culver leaned down to caress Pilar's mouth. Her lower lip trembled, and he felt a sob catch in her throat as his lips gently took hers. In that golden moment, all he was aware of was her warmth, her softness and her incredible courage. Easing his mouth from hers, he stared deeply into her tear-filled eyes. "Nothing matters except you and Rane. Do you understand me, Pilar? The rest of our collective worlds can go to hell. All I want—all I'll ever need—is you. Rane is ours—created out of our love." He took a deep, ragged breath. "And God knows
,
I loved you all those years. I never stopped loving you."

     
Culver didn't approach any other serious topics with Pilar for several days. She had lost consciousness shortly after his admission, and Dr. José was concerned that too much stressful emotion would cost her dearly in terms of surmounting the infection that had nearly taken her life. Culver agreed. Pilar was transferred to a private room, and Culver had a bed brought in for him. He slept nearby, and whenever she awoke, he did, too, as if an invisible cord connected them.

     
Pilar had a number of nightmares, and Culver was grateful that Dr. José allowed him to stay with her twenty-four hours a day. Culver brought her books and read to her. She hated television, preferring instead to talk with him about many things—but never again did she broach the subject of Rane being his daughter. Sometimes Culver wondered what was going on inside Pilar's head. Had she heard his admission? That he was willing to take responsibility and become Rane's father? Perhaps she'd been too drugged from the surgery to remember his words.