Pictures of Emily (7 page)

“There isn’t much time,” Sonny reminded him.

John Christian’s eyes flew open and he looked at Sonny with anguish. “When a man meets the girl he wants to marry, he thinks his heart can be no fuller. But then he has children.”

He walked over to the bed and Sonny stepped back.

“It’s hard to know what’s best,” John Christian said, looking down at Emily.

“She has little chance here,” Sonny said quietly, kindly.

The man nodded in uneasy defeat, then bent and lifted his daughter from the bed as if she were a small child. “Come on, Emily lass. We’re takin’ you to a doctor.”

On the way to the village, Tilly and Babbie were left in the efficient hands of Annie McIntyre.

In the harbor, the ferryboat was still waiting, and Sonny silently thanked Doreen and her intimidating nature. As they stepped onto the gangplank, he caught a glimpse of a purple unicorn fluttering against blue sky.

Once Emily was at the hospital and on intravenous antibiotics, she began to improve almost immediately. By the third day she was well on her way to total recovery. She had even talked her father into returning to St. Genevieve by himself.

Now, on the fifth day, Sonny was sitting in Dr. Martin Berlin’s office. Even though Martin had told him to quit hanging around the hospital disrupting things, Sonny hadn’t listened. He couldn’t seem to stay away. In fact, he’d just come from seeing Emily.

The doorknob turned and the office door flew open. “This is crazy!” Martin Berlin announced. Lab coat flapping about his knees, he slammed the door shut and strode across the small room to the window, tossing a stack of folders on his desk as he passed.

Sonny was used to Martin’s theatrics. Martin sometimes participated in Little Theater productions, and some of the sweeping stage gestures and voice projection had carried over into his real life.

“The entire hospital is crawling with Sonny Maxwell groupies,” Martin said, gesturing wildly.

Sonny locked his fingers over his stomach and stretched his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. “I’ve tried to keep a low profile.”

Martin was on a roll. “And my nursing staff! They’re walking around like a bunch of lovesick zombies. Just this morning, one of the nurses got the medicine orders mixed up. A patient almost ended up swallowing a suppository instead of a vitamin!”

Sonny had known Martin going on six years—ever since Sonny had donated enough money to add a children’s research wing on to the hospital. Most doctors looked older than they really were. Martin was fifty, but looked forty. He was divorced, content, but one of the most highly-strung characters Sonny had ever come across.

“What the hell do you do to them?” Martin asked. “There are at least thirty women out there right now—women just begging to be your love slave.” He pointed toward the parking lot below. “From here, I can see a girl who can’t be more than fifteen. She’s holding up a sign that says I want a piece of your action. Now what is a girl of fifteen doing with a sign like that?”

Sonny shrugged and laughed. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“It isn’t funny. This is real life. “Not one of your movies or ads. I’m scheduled for surgery this afternoon, and I don’t know if there are any assistants left around here who don’t have little hearts floating in front of their eyes. And that’s not all. I can’t leave this place without a dozen reporters shoving microphones in my face, demanding to know the scoop on you and Emily. I know you’re trying to keep her name out of the tabloids, but I think you’re going about it wrong. Why don’t you just go out there and talk to them? If you don’t tell them what’s going on, they’ll make something up.”

“Since there’s nothing tawdry to tell them, they’ll make something up anyway.”

“Well, this chaos can’t go on any longer. This is a hospital, not your fan club headquarters.”

“So what you’re saying is you want me to leave and take Emily with me, right?”

“You make it sound as if I’m kicking her out.” Martin came away from the window and perched himself on the edge of the desk, hands clasped in front of him, all doctor now. “Four or five days is the average stay for a pneumonia case. But Emily had some pretty badly damaged lung tissue. I’d like to keep her nearby for another week, then get a fresh set of X-rays before she goes home. But with this mess outside, and my nurses…” He shook his head. “Something has to be done.”

“Maybe she could stay in a hotel,” Sonny suggested.

“You couldn’t keep it a secret. The press would be hounding her within an hour. I have a better idea.” Martin—normally an eye-to-eye man—rubbed the back of his neck and focused on something near the door. “What about taking her to your place?”

“That won’t work. My address is no secret—and then they
would
have something to talk about. I don’t want Emily’s name splashed all over the tabloids.” “I’m not talking about your decoy apartment. I’m talking about your cabin.”

Sonny didn’t take anybody to his cabin. Martin knew that. That’s why he’d called his apartment a decoy. It was to satisfy all those people who thought they needed to know where he lived.

Sonny had deliberately bought his place in the woods because there was no other house in sight. Shortly after that, Martin began begging Sonny to let him fish in the stream near his cabin. Sonny had finally relented and Martin had liked the area so much he’d ended up buying the adjoining lot. Then he built a house on it. Now, on a clear night, when there weren’t any leaves on the trees, Sonny could see the lights of Martin’s property.

No, Martin couldn’t be trusted.

And that wasn’t the only thing that bugged Sonny about Martin. The man’s specialty was cardiology and pulmonary care, but on the side he liked to dabble in psychology. Sometimes Sonny would catch him watching him, observing him as if he were some curious specimen. One time he’d even asked Sonny what he was afraid of.

“What do you say?” Martin asked. “Pretty decent idea, isn’t it? Emily’s off IVs. I could come and check on her every evening on my way home.”

Sonny had always hated the thought of having his refuge invaded. He knew a time would come when the press would discover its whereabouts. When that happened, he didn’t know where he’d go, didn’t know where he’d run.

But for some reason the thought of Emily being at his place didn’t seem so bad. And the more Sonny thought about it, the closer he came to actually liking the idea.

“I’m sure Emily won’t mind,” Martin said. “She’s been stewing about the hospital bill. Yesterday, she asked me how much I made an hour.”

“I hope you didn’t tell her,” Sonny said. “I’m taking care of the bill. I don’t want her to even see it.”

Martin’s dark eyebrows lifted. “Oh yeah? Think again. You don’t know her very well if you think Emily’s the type to take a dime from anybody.”

Martin was right. But it irritated Sonny to discover that Martin knew Emily so well.

Martin rubbed his hands together, then slapped his legs, a sure sign he was ready to wrap up the conversation. “So what do you think? Master plan, right?” “How do we get her out of the hospital without being seen?”

“At night. By helicopter.”

“Helicopter?”

Had Emily ever been in a helicopter? Sonny wondered. She might not go for it. He wouldn’t want to force her into something she didn’t want to do. After all, it was his fault the hospital was overrun with groupies, not hers.

“I don’t know about the helicopter,” Sonny said.

“With a helicopter there’d be no chance of your being tailed.”

“I’ll talk to Emily and let you know what we decide.”

“There’s no need.” Martin smiled. “I’m heading that way right now.”

* * *

Emily sat on the edge of the hospital bed. She was wearing the white sweatshirt and sweatpants Tilly had stuffed into her suitcase—bless her heart. Folded over one arm was the wool coat Doreen had loaned her when she’d dropped in for a visit. The rest of her things were packed. Dr. Berlin had been to see her, leaving medicine and a list of instructions.

Emily felt as if she’d encroached upon Sonny’s goodwill far too long already. But Dr. Berlin had explained that her presence in the hospital was creating chaos. She had suggested returning home, but the doctor refused to release her unless she remained nearby, under his care.

He’d told her that Sonny owned a secluded cabin, a hideaway. It would be an ideal place for her since it was near his own property.

She’d phoned her father and he’d said it seemed the only solution so she’d agreed to go. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t scared. She was. She was scared of going someplace strange, scared of going to that someplace with Sonny Maxwell, and scared of flying in a helicopter. Why, she’d never even been in an airplane.

At five minutes past midnight, Sonny stuck his head inside the door. “Your coach awaits.”

The only concession he’d made to a disguise was a pair of sunglasses and an L.A. Laker’s cap. He was dressed nondescript. If anything Sonny wore could be called nondescript. He was wearing a navy blue sweatshirt, stretched at the collar and hem, faded jeans and sneakers.

While she’d never been one to ogle a man, Emily had to admit that Sonny made even the most everyday clothes special, almost as if by lying next to his skin they took on some of his persona. It was no wonder every company wanted him to model their clothes. At that very moment, without even trying, he was cover material.

They moved quietly down the hallway, past the nurses’ station to the elevators. After stepping inside, Sonny punched an unlabeled button, and the elevator took them to the roof of the six-floor building. Before stepping out, Sonny pushed Hold and helped Emily into her coat, making sure it was zipped up all the way. Then they stepped onto a lighted walkway that led to the landing pad and the waiting helicopter.

She and Sonny took the seat behind the pilot.

“Ever flown before?” Sonny asked.

She shook her head.

“Piece of cake. This helicopter is one of the best made,” he said, helping her into her seatbelt. “It works on the same lift principle as one of your kites.”

She smiled, endeared by the fact that he was trying to calm her fears.

The pilot flicked a switch on the instrument panel and the blades began to rotate, picking up speed until Emily could no longer see them.

The craft seemed to bounce a little, then they were lifting away from the landing pad. The floor beneath Emily’s feet shuddered. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped Sonny’s arm.

Of course it was ridiculous. If they crashed, he could do nothing, but she felt safer touching him, just knowing he was beside her.

When she finally got brave enough to open her eyes, the lights of the city were swirling away beneath them.

It was beautiful. Unreal.

Emily forgot her fear and leaned closer to the window.

As they went, Sonny pointed out various buildings until the lights became more scattered and they finally left the city behind.

A half hour later they were landing in the middle of an open area surrounded by trees. Sonny helped Emily from the helicopter, then grabbed her suitcase and guided her to the edge of the clearing.

“Close your eyes!” he shouted above the noise, pulling her head against his chest.

The helicopter lifted away, the giant blades whipping grass and leaves through the air.

Then they were enveloped in quiet and darkness. But Sonny’s arm was around her and she felt safe.

He released his hold and flicked on a flashlight, directing the beam so it cut a path through the trees.

His warm fingers sought hers. “Come on.”

She held on tightly as he led her through the dark woods.

In just a couple minutes they came to another cleared area. Nestled in the middle was a tiny A-frame house with gingerbread molding and shuttered windows. It looked like something from Hansel and Gretel.

“It’s beautiful. I’d expected a cabin.”

As if to explain why a man would have such a quaint house, Sonny shrugged and said, “It came with the property.”

The inside turned out to be bigger than it appeared from the porch. But it was still small by most standards. The ground floor held a living room, a tiny kitchen, and bathroom. One wall was covered with photographs.

Emily draped her coat over the couch and moved closer.

Most were black-and-whites, matted, but unframed. There were pictures of gnarled trees and vast skies. Pictures of old churches, old houses, broken-down fences.

“Did Doreen take these?” she asked, continuing to study the pictures before her. They were wonderful.

Sonny didn’t answer.

She turned.

He’d tossed his cap and glasses on a nearby table. He was standing with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, his expression a little uncomfortable, a little self-conscious maybe. She instantly understood. The pictures—they were his.

Her gaze was drawn back to the cluttered wall. Yes, she could see it now. She could see Sonny Maxwell there. The pictures had a remote, lonely quality.

“You took them, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

The tone of his voice was strange… a little defensive. She could almost think he was a child being accused of some misdeed…or one who feared rejection.

“They’re wonderful.” What was she saying? They were better than wonderful. They were moving, touching. Painful. Beautiful.

He relaxed. He moved nearer, his arm brushing her shoulder. “I took that one—” he pointed “—in Massachusetts. Near Old Salem.”

It was a picture of a stone church. It had been shot from ground level, looking skyward, the steeple piercing a cloudless sky.

“Beautiful. So… moody…” So sad.

She wondered if he’d ever had a showing. Thinking of a showing turned her thoughts to Doreen. “Doreen must love your pictures.”

“She’s never seen them.”

Why was he hiding these beautiful, haunting pictures? Pictures were to share, for other people to see.

“I can’t believe you’ve never shown them to Doreen. She’d love them. They shouldn’t be kept hidden here. Has anyone else seen them? Your family?”

A strange expression flitted across his features, and then was gone. “No.”