No Regrets (19 page)

“Pitcher for the baseball team,” Joe broke in dryly, knowing the type. He'd always been too busy working after school, saving for college and later cracking the books to keep his grades up in med school to go out for the sports that seemed to attract all the prettiest girls.

“First baseman,” Molly corrected with a faint smile. “Needless to say I had a major crush on him. His name was—” she paused, stunned when she drew a blank. “I can't remember.”

“It doesn't matter. He's obviously bald with a beer gut and spends his weekends lying on the couch watching ESPN, bossing the little woman around while reliving his old high school glory days in his mind.”

“You paint such an attractive picture. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous of an eighteen-year-old from my past.”

“You bet I am. I'm jealous of any guy you ever looked at twice,” Joe said without rancor. “So, did the jock return your interest?”

“I didn't think so, at first. But apparently he'd noticed me mooning over him, which wasn't all that surprising, considering the fact that I wasn't at all subtle about my girlish crush. Anyway, one night, after I'd been living in the house about three months, he slipped into my room after everyone had gone to sleep. I was dreaming of him, as I did every night…” Her voice drifted off as she recalled Joe's prediction of sexual dreams.

“Don't stop now,” he drawled. “Not when it's just getting interesting.”

Once again she felt the color rise in her cheeks. “I was dreaming that he was kissing me. Holding me. Then, when his hand touched my breasts, I realized that I wasn't dreaming at all.” She sighed. “Before I could kiss him back, the door suddenly opened and the light came on and his parents were yelling about the slut of a seductress who was trying to ruin their perfect son's life.

“Since I already had a reputation for being difficult, the next day I was shipped off to the Good Shepherd Home for Girls. Wayward girls.”

“That little nighttime petting session doesn't sound very wayward. In fact, it sounds downright normal.”

“I realize that now. However, at the time, I was convinced I was headed straight to hell.” Molly thought of all the days she'd spent kneeling in the school chapel doing penance for her carnal sin. “Naturally, that was enough to turn me off romantic relationships.”

“You mean you gave up boys? Entirely?”

The idea was preposterous. Like so many other teenagers, Joe had experienced a similar situation himself. While parked in a car on a Long Island beach late one night, he'd been discovering the delights to be found in the pillowy softness of Teresa Magionne's lushly feminine body when they were caught by a patrolling cop. As humiliating as it was to have been literally caught with his pants down, Joe had never considered joining an order of Trappist monks.

“That was my only sexual encounter,” she admitted. “Until that night—”

“That doesn't count.” His tone was rough and firm. His expression could have been carved from the red rocks that made Arizona so scenic. Then, as Molly watched, it softened.

“Has it ever occurred to you, Molly,” he said gently, “that your only two sexual experiences have had either a forbidden or painful aspect about them?”

“I've never thought about it that way,” she admitted. But, of course, once again, he was right. Even her feelings for Reece…

Before Joe could respond, the cellular phone in the motor home rang. A frisson of fear skimmed up Molly's spine. Not many people knew this number. Only Sister Benvenuto, the coordinator of the mobile health services program and her family.

Her mind immediately flashed to her daughter. If anything had happened to Grace…
Please,
she prayed,
let it be work.

“Hello?”

“Molly?” Theo's voice sounded strange. Almost as if she'd been crying. “Thank God I got you.”

Later, when Molly tried to reconstruct the conversation she realized that only bits and pieces of it had sunk in. She'd been too stunned. And terrified.

“I'll be there as soon as I can,” she heard herself saying, her voice flat with shock. She hung up the receiver, but continued to stare down at it, wondering if the call had been real.

Perhaps she was merely suffering another nightmare. As she had so often in the past.

“Molly?” The sharp male voice filtered through the shock reverberating through her mind, proving that it was no nightmare. “What the hell is wrong?”

She turned toward him slowly. Her eyes were vague and unseeing. “I have to go.” She glanced around, as if having no idea how to accomplish that feat.

“Go where? Back to Los Angeles?”

“Yes.” Her skin had turned to ice. Joe began rubbing her arms to stimulate circulation. Molly didn't seem to notice. “There's been an accident… Oh, God.”

As her uncharacteristically frail voice drifted off, Joe realized she'd be leaving him again. “Don't worry.” In an attempt to comfort, rather than arouse, he drew her to him. “I'll take care of everything.”

 

The team finally got Lena stable enough to survive a CT scan. They wheeled her out of the trauma room,
leaving behind a floor strewn with needle caps, IV bag wrappers, gauze pads and pools of blood. The room, which had been enveloped in the controlled chaos of a Code was suddenly, eerily silent.

“Shit,” Yolanda said as she stripped off her bloody gloves and dropped them uncaringly onto the floor with the rest of the mess. “Did anyone think to ask those paramedics if she was alone in the car?”

 

Joe proved to be as good as his word. A mere two hours after Molly received the phone call from Theo, she was waiting in the gate to board a commuter plane headed for Flagstaff. From there she'd fly to Phoenix, and catch a connecting flight to Los Angeles.

Although Molly had been holding his hand since their arrival at the small remote air terminal, Joe suspected she was unaware of his presence. He guessed that what slender part of her mind was still managing to function, was focused solely on her sister.

She was so deep in thought, Molly failed to hear the boarding announcement come over the loudspeaker.

He touched his fingers to her cheek. “It's time.”

She blinked, then took a deep breath. Then hugged him. “I don't know how to thank you.” She knew there was no way she would have been able to take care of the details of her travel plans herself.

“You don't have to thank me, Molly. That's what friends are for.”

Thinking again how much this kind, caring man reminded her of Reece, Molly threw her arms around him. “I'll call you as soon as I know anything.”

He hugged her back and felt guilty when his body
responded as it always seemed to do when Molly was in the vicinity. His reaction might be inappropriate, but he could no more prevent himself from becoming aroused than he could stop the sun from rising over the vast red earth each morning.

Unaware of his thoughts, Molly kissed him on the cheek, then boarded the small jet, where she tried to pray. Unfortunately, the words wouldn't come.

Instead, images of her sister lying in the tangled mass of steel that had been Lena's beloved new minivan, flashed in Molly's dazed mind like scenes from some late-night horror movie.

B
y the time Molly arrived at Mercy Sam, Lena had been moved to the neurological intensive-care unit. Yolanda was waiting for her, and although Molly was desperate to see her sister, the nurse insisted she first talk with the neurosurgeon.

“The CT scan shows no brain activity,” Dr. James Parker told Molly, speaking to her more like to a nurse than to a concerned relative. “Which confirmed our worst suspicions. But Reece refused to accept that diagnosis and insisted she'd be all right if we relieved the pressure on her brain. So we did.”

Molly closed her eyes, knowing that the procedure meant inserting a tube into the ventricle of her sister's brain.

“And?” she asked weakly, reaching out to grasp the arm of a nearby chair when her legs began to feel a bit
wobbly. Yolanda, who never missed a thing, pushed the chair over so Molly could lower herself into it.

“Instead of a clear cerebrospinal fluid, we got chunks of brain,” he said flatly. Brutally. “If I may be frank, given the fact that you've been an ER nurse yourself, at this point diagnosing death is only a formality.”

His words hit home. Hard. Stars began to dance in front of Molly's eyes like fireflies.

Then everything went black.

 

Reece sat beside his wife, holding her hand. “Hey, sweetheart,” he coaxed, “don't you think it's time you woke up? We've got a surprise party to go to.”

He smoothed his hand over the bandage on her head, wishing they hadn't had to cut her hair. Lena had never liked short hair, and although he knew it was horribly chauvinistic, Reece had always been glad that she'd never wanted to cut those long waves that felt so good draped across his chest. Had it been only this morning they'd driven each other crazy making love? It seemed a lifetime ago.

“You're going to be madder than hell when you find out what we did.” He traced his fingers over her lips. “But don't worry, honey, it'll grow back. Just think of it as a really bad hair day.”

He kept his voice upbeat and reassuring. Despite the negative diagnosis from James Parker, Reece knew Lena could hear him, and he didn't want her to be afraid or depressed. She had to realize that she was going to make it. That they would have years and years of love and laughter yet together.

“You don't have to worry about Grace. Theo's tak
ing great care of her.” He thanked God that Theo had shown up at the house just as Lena had been leaving, saving Grace from being in the minivan. “She's coloring me another birthday card and is impatient for her mommy to get home so we can get on with the festivities.”

He leaned down and touched his mouth to her cool dry lips in a brief kiss meant to reassure them both.

Standing in the doorway, observing the intimate kiss, Molly felt as if her heart would shatter into a million pieces. Her initial relief at learning Grace had escaped the tragic accident had been offset by her sister's critical injuries.

Outside the room, the stark fluorescent lights in the hallway created the illusion of day. Inside, Reece had obviously turned them down to spare his wife the harsh, shadowless glare. Not that Lena would notice, Molly thought miserably.

Although her sister's head was wrapped in a bandage, the doctor had assured Molly that her sister's body, and all her internal organs, had remained undamaged.

Looking at her lying on the narrow criblike bed reminded Molly of an ancient sarcophagus she'd once seen in a cathedral crypt in Rome. On the lid of the marble coffin had been carved the likeness of the young princess who lay within. Her pale skin was unmarred, her features unscarred by pain or worry. Which was exactly how Lena looked.

“Oh, Reece.”

He turned. “You came.” His grim parody of a welcoming smile did not reach his unnervingly blank eyes.

“Of course.” Molly crossed the room, knelt down in front of Reece and gathered him in her arms. “How could I not?”

He didn't hug her back. His arms hung limply at his sides. “She's going to be all right.” Reece turned back to his wife. In her presence, they kept their voices soft, respectful. He reached out and laced his fingers with Lena's pale slender ones. “We've seen this a thousand times before, a patient in a coma who suddenly makes a miraculous recovery.”

“It does happen.” It was true she'd witnessed such events. But certainly not as frequently as he was suggesting.

“And you're in the miracle business.” He flashed her another of those strange horror-movie smiles. “You can pray for her. God's bound to listen to Saint Molly.”

Molly decided there was nothing to be gained in pointing out, as she always used to, that she was far from being a saint. “I've been praying since Theo first called with the news.”

“See.” He lifted Lena's hand to his lips. “Did you hear that, darling? Molly's been praying for you. We've got it made in the shade.”

Dr. Parker had been right. After she'd revived from her embarrassing faint, he had warned her that Reece had removed himself from any realm of medical reality. After a consultation with Alan Bernstein, they'd come to the conclusion that it wouldn't hurt to allow him his little fantasy, for a time, if it helped ease the pain.

“But,” the neurosurgeon had warned Molly, “we can't wait forever. The harvest coordinator's already
been notified. Your sister's driver's license stated she was an organ donor,” he'd added somewhat defensively when Molly had given him a sharp look.

She'd sighed at the time, reminding herself not to take Lena's tragedy out on him. After all, hadn't she been forced to ask grieving families for transplant permission more times than she could count? Now as she sat beside her silent sister she thought about how careful Lena had been about details like signing the human tissue consent section on her license, about how she'd long ago planned her own funeral in detail because she'd been so afraid of dying young….

Molly felt the sting of salty tears at the back of her lids but willed them away. “Why don't you go get something to eat?” she suggested in that same hushed tone they'd been using. Except when Reece spoke to Lena. Then, his false enthusiasm reminded her of a television weatherman. “I'll stay with her.” Expecting resistance, Molly was surprised when Reece didn't argue.

“All right,” he said. “If you don't mind.”

“Not at all.”

He paused, looking down at Lena. An expression of grim determination moved across his face like a sudden storm cloud. “I won't be long.”

“Take your time.” She forced a smile she feared was as horribly fake as his had been. “We'll be fine.”

 

Reece left the room, taking the elevator down to the first floor. But instead of going to the cafeteria, he walked out the front door to where his car was parked in the staff parking lot.

He was on his way to Cedars-Sinai Hospital, where
he'd learned they'd taken the drunk driver who'd hit Lena's minivan head-on.

Reece had a desperate need to see this evil man who had, in that single horrible moment, tried to destroy his family.

He was going to look him right in the face. He was going to make certain the bastard knew exactly what he'd done.

And then he was going to kill him.

 

“When's Mommy going to be home?”

Theo exchanged a quick look with her husband. “We don't know, darling.”

“We told you,” Alex reminded Grace gently, “your mommy had an accident. She's in the hospital.”

“I know that. But Daddy's taking care of her, right?”

“Right,” the two adults confirmed in unison.

The little girl took another crayon from the box and began filling in a picture of Monument Valley in the coloring book her aunt Molly had brought her from Arizona. “Then Mommy will get better.” She concentrated on filling in the towering red rocks. Sometimes it was very hard to stay inside the lines. “Because Daddy's the best doctor ever.”

Alex and Theo exchanged another worried look. Then Theo turned away and began picking the dead leaves off a pothos plant hanging in front of the picture window; she was trying to keep Lena's daughter from seeing the sheen of tears in her eyes.

From the reports they'd received from Yolanda, despite Reece's unwavering optimism, she knew all they could do now was wait for the inevitable.

As heartsick as she was over Lena, Theo couldn't help worrying about Molly's reaction to all this. She'd received some unnerving vibes when Grace's birth mother had visited for the wedding. If Molly were to try to claim her daughter…

No, Theo decided, she was creating problems where none existed. There was no way Molly could consider raising Grace in that motor home out in the middle of an Indian reservation.

Somehow, this horrible time would pass. Somehow, Reece and Grace would find the strength to get on with their lives. But in the meantime, Theo dreaded the moment when the adults who loved her to distraction would have to shatter a little girl's safe, comfortable existence.

 

As Alex watched Grace laboring intently over her drawing, he was reminded of another little dark-haired girl, not so much older, who had struggled with the same fierce determination to protect her little sisters. First from their brutal, alcoholic father, then from the system.

He knew, from their many discussions over the years, that deep down inside, Molly believed she'd failed Lena and Tessa. She was, of course, mistaken, but Alex had never been able to convince her that her unwavering support may have been the one thing that had kept Lena from going completely over the edge during those early rocky years. Molly had been the single fixed star in Lena's firmament. These past years that role had been taken over by Reece, but he knew, without a doubt, that Lena gave full credit to her older sister for having saved her life innumerable times.

Alex thought about the vibrant young wife and mother lying in that hospital bed, now kept alive only by the intrusion of medical machinery, and he realized that it would inevitably fall to Molly to break the news of her mother's death to Grace.

It wasn't fair. Molly had already overcome so damn much. It wasn't right that she'd have to take responsibility yet again. But he knew she'd have it no other way. He also knew, from all the years on the force, that life wasn't always fair.

 

As he'd expected, Reece encountered no difficulty discovering the whereabouts of the drunk driver. As soon as he flashed his Mercy Sam ID card at the clerk on duty, she began tapping away on her computer keyboard, and presto, the name of the patient and room number flashed on the screen. He didn't even have to use his cover story about being called in for a consult by the patient's personal physician.

He exited the elevator and was prepared to show his ID again. But it didn't prove necessary. The nurses at the desk were too busy charting to pay any attention to him. Obviously, in these lofty environs, security issues weren't as vital as they were in Mercy Sam's neighborhood.

Cedars-Sinai was the hospital of choice for the Los Angeles elite—caretaker to the stars. Reece was not surprised to discover that the man—who he'd learned from one of the paramedics, was a hotshot criminal defense attorney with penthouse law offices at Century City—had a private room.

His eyes were closed, but his rough, uneven snores
revealed that he was not unconscious, but merely sleeping off the effects of too-much alcohol. A system of pulleys had been erected over the bed; the man's left leg was suspended in traction. From what Reece could see without looking at the chart, the broken leg was the only sign of injury.

He took the vial from his jacket pocket. He'd stolen the procaine, a local anesthetic, from the ER drug cabinet while Lena had been undergoing her CT scan. The plan, when he'd first come up with it, had seemed so simple. But now, as he looked down at this snoring drunk, Reece no longer felt rage. What he felt was empty.

Reece told himself that it didn't matter. The man deserved to die. An eye for an eye. A life for a life. His fingers tightened around the vial as he realized this was the first time he'd allowed himself to think that Lena might not survive.

Determined to keep this criminal from ever driving drunk again, Reece pulled the syringe and twenty-five gauge needle from his pocket. He removed the cap from the needle and drew the clear liquid into the syringe, then walked over to the bed, his fingers holding on to the deadly dose with a vise grip.

He took hold of the man's limp wrist and turned the arm to expose the vein. At the same time, he heard the soft footfalls of rubber-soled shoes pause in the doorway.

“Can I help you, Doctor?” the female voice asked.

He turned and forced an everything's-just-fine-and-dandy expression onto his face. “I didn't want to bother you, Nurse. I was asked for a consult, and—”

“It figures he'd get top-notch care.”

Something in her voice alerted him. “Isn't that what Cedars is acclaimed for?”

“Of course. It's just sometimes I wish our mortality rate was a bit higher.” She glared down at the man who was snoring away. “In this case, a lot higher.” She glanced over at Reece as if expecting a reprimand. “I realize that doesn't exactly sound like Florence Nightingale, but I lost a daughter to a drunk driver five years ago.”

“I'm sorry.” Reece thought how, if Theo hadn't shown up when she had, Grace would have been in the van with Lena.

“It was prom night. She and her boyfriend were driving home. The woman never stopped, but fortunately there were witnesses. When the police showed up at her house to arrest her hours later, her alcohol level was still above the legal limit.

“Losing a child is the worst thing that can happen to a parent,” she said. “My husband couldn't take it. He kept wanting to kill the woman. He even bought a gun and kept it loaded, but fortunately, I suppose, he never had the nerve to use it. But our marriage disintegrated under the stress. He lives in Ohio now. With a new wife. She's pregnant.”