Stardust (The Starlight Trilogy #3) (18 page)

“This is your stop, ladies.” The driver turned toward the back seat. “That’ll be three-fifty.”

Olivia opened her purse, but Beth had already handed over the fare and tip.

The driver opened the back door and they emerged from the cab. Beth secured her sunglasses as their luggage was retrieved from the trunk. The driver didn’t seem to recognize her, but it was unlikely her anonymity would last much longer.

A brisk wind blasted down the street. She fastened the buttons on her coat and picked up her suitcase. Tears stung her eyes, breaking through her numbness. In Clarkson, she didn’t think she’d be able to face the truth of Aidan’s condition, but she had surprised herself. She had collected her remaining strength against the most disturbing circumstances, and now here she was, about to see him in person. Yes, it would be difficult, but quitting was not an option.

With a nod to Olivia, she began her trek to the hospital. The reporters recognized her immediately.

“Miss Sutton, is it true Aidan Evans is on his death bed after wrapping his Porsche around a tree?”

“Since
Golden Gloves
has been terminated, why was Mr. Evans in Chicago in the first place?”

“Are you here as a concerned costar or something more?”

“Can you confirm that a priest has been called in to administer the last rites to Mr. Evans?”

Beth kept her head down as security escorted her and Olivia into the hospital amongst camera flashes. Although she had been taught to always cooperate with the press, this time, she would not give them the courtesy of a response. Imagine trying to profit from someone else’s misfortune. It was sickening.

Inside, Beth and Olivia were greeted by additional security, fronted by an older man wearing a dark suit and a tight frown. There was a kindness in his eyes that didn’t seem forced.

“Miss Sutton, my name is Alfred Motts. I’m the head of security here at Chicago Memorial Hospital. Mr. Taggart informed me you’d be arriving this morning.”

A sob escaped Olivia. She brought a tissue to her mouth and bowed her head to weep. Beth placed a hand on her shoulder. Hopefully, she’d have the opportunity to thank Nathan for making all of her arrangements. She truly missed him and couldn’t conceive how Olivia felt in his absence. A deep connection existed between Nathan and Olivia that could never be severed; the engagement ring on her left hand was proof she still loved him in spite of his betrayal.

Mr. Motts motioned across the lobby. “Please follow me. I’ll take you to Mr. Evans’ ward.”

Beth removed her sunglasses and placed them in her coat pocket as they walked toward the elevators. Saint Raphael, immortalized in stained glass, filtered in the sun, bestowing the lobby with a warm and peaceful glow.

It had been ages since Beth sought divine intervention. However, as she passed the archangel, she grasped her diamond pendant and whispered words of mercy and forgiveness. Perhaps she was unworthy of acknowledgement, having turned to prayer only in times of need, but Aidan—her dear, dear Aidan—deserved salvation.

O great prince of the heavenly court, I beg you…

On the eighth floor, they exited onto a ward modest in furnishings and void of the comforting atmosphere from downstairs.

“Please wait here. I’ll fetch the doctor.” Mr. Motts walked down the corridor, leaving Beth and Olivia standing amongst the probing stares of nurses and orderlies. When he returned, a man with salt and pepper hair, black-rimmed glasses, and a long white coat accompanied him.

“Good morning, Miss Sutton. My name is Doctor Patrick Billings.” He shook her hand. “I received Aidan Evans in the emergency room following his accident. I’m his primary care physician.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Beth offered a meek smile and gestured to her friend. “This is Olivia Weston.”

“Good morning, Ms. Weston.” Dr. Billings provided her with a handshake, too.

Mr. Motts stepped forward. “I will leave you to speak with Dr. Billings privately, Miss Sutton. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to summon me.”

Beth nodded. “Thank you.”

Mr. Motts disappeared into the nearest stairwell.

Dr. Billings’ expression looked grim. “Our conversation would be better suited in my office.” He turned to Olivia. “Ms. Weston, if you’d like to have a seat in the waiting room, I can send for you when we’re finished.”

Tears filled Beth’s eyes. “Please let her stay. I cannot bear to be separated from her.”

Sympathy flooded the physician’s gaze. “As you wish, Miss Sutton.”

Beth and Olivia followed Dr. Billings past the nurses’ station, earning them more inquisitive glances and even some whispers. Since Beth’s first and last visit to a hospital was when she sustained her superficial head injury in December, she was unfamiliar with them except from what she’d seen in motion pictures. The reality was quite different from how they were portrayed onscreen. Chicago Memorial was meant to be a place of healing, but the white walls, acrid smell of bleach, and eerie quiet on the ward reminded her of suffering and loss.

Dr. Billings motioned for them to enter his office first and then shut the door upon his entry. A diploma from the University of Chicago Medical School presided over an oak desk covered with file folders, a table lamp, and a telephone. The blinds decorating the only window in the room were closed.

Dr. Billings took a seat behind his desk after Beth and Olivia placed their suitcases on the floor and claimed the two chairs on the other side. He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat. Stalling, perhaps.

“First of all, I must say I don’t know how the press found out about Mr. Evans’ admittance. I assure you they did not hear anything from my staff. We pride ourselves on discretion here at Chicago Memorial. Hence, we have increased our security presence on the premises to fend off further unwanted intrusions.”

Beth wrung her hands. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but Mr. Evans’ father, Graham Evans, is a prominent member of Chicago Memorial’s medical team.”

Beth’s eyes widened. “He is?”

Dr. Billings nodded. “Dr. Evans has been on personal leave for the past month. Since Mr. Evans’ admission, I’ve tried to reach him over the telephone, but all of my attempts have failed. I stopped by his house yesterday, but no one was home, so I left a note on the door, requesting that he call me right away. Thankfully, we were able to contact Mr. Taggart, which is why you’re here today. Nathan is a good man. He cares about Mr. Evans a lot.”

Olivia removed another tissue from her purse and patted her moist eyes.

Beth clenched her jaw, steeling herself. “Aidan…how is he?”

Dr. Billings folded his hands on the desktop. “Normally, Miss Sutton, I wouldn’t disclose personal information to anyone other than family, but Mr. Taggart says you and Mr. Evans are …close.”

All Beth could manage was a nod.

“I will be frank with you. Mr. Evans is in a coma. In a situation like this, however, a comatose state is actually best. It limits neurological activity, giving the brain a chance to rest and heal. Until he regains consciousness—that is,
if
he regains consciousness—it is impossible to predict how his injuries have affected his cognitive and motor abilities.”

“So you won’t know until he wakes up?” Beth chose to focus on when, not if.

“That is correct. Fortunately, Mr. Evans was wearing his seatbelt, which very well saved his life, so there is a chance he may make a full recovery. How much of a chance, though, I cannot say.”

“That’s fair, Doctor. Thank you.”

“As for Mr. Evans’ current condition, he is critical but stable. He’s breathing on his own. Therefore, no mechanical ventilation is required. We inserted an intravenous line to deliver maintenance fluids and medication directly into his bloodstream instead of relying on intramuscular or subcutaneous injections. We are also monitoring him with a cardioscope. It’s quite something, actually. It’s a new medical device, which records a patient’s heart rate and emits an alarm if it falls outside normal limits. We typically only use this machine in the operating room. However, we’ve found it helpful in Mr. Evans’ case, given the extent of his injuries.

“Aside from the swelling in his brain, Mr. Evans broke his nose and two ribs. He also has multiple lacerations and contusions—cuts and bruises—on his face and torso, which took the brunt of the impact when he skidded off the road and crashed into the tree. We cannot rule out bruising of his liver and spleen, either, although his lab work indicates no internal bleeding.”

Beth placed her hand over her heart. It all sounded so complicated, so serious. “It’s bad, isn’t it? His condition…”

Dr. Billings frowned. “This is a Catholic hospital. I’m not sure if you’re a religious woman, but considering how this could have turned out, I’d say someone is watching out for him. To have survived a motor vehicle accident this severe…well, in my opinion, he is very lucky. Please do not repeat this to anyone, though. From a medical perspective,
lucky
is not a term I like to use when discussing my patients.”

Beth could no longer hold back her tears. Olivia hugged her while the doctor expressed his deepest condolences, never breaking his professional poise. Her crying did not last long. She made sure of it. This was not the time for weakness. Aidan needed her. She would not sit around, playing the victim, while her beau fought for his life.

She wiped her face with a tissue Olivia gave her. “May I see Aidan, Dr. Billings?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t think that’s wise right now, Miss Sutton.”

“Please. I’ve come all this way.”

“But—”

“Look, Doctor. I’m not leaving this hospital until Aidan can accompany me, alive and well.” Beth served the physician a polite but pointed look. “So you might as well let me stay at his bedside.”

Olivia squared her shoulders. “Me, too.”

Dr. Billings stood. “As you wish, Miss Sutton.”

Beth and Olivia left the office with their belongings and followed Dr. Billings to Aidan’s room. He stopped in front of a closed door at the end of a quiet corridor.

“This is Mr. Evans’ private accommodation. I must warn you, Miss Sutton, he has a significant amount of facial swelling, so you may be startled by his appearance. Rest assured, though, we are controlling his pain with medication. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Beth tightened her grip on her suitcase. She wasn’t ready—she’d never be ready to face Aidan in any state of unwell. But this wasn’t about her. “Let’s go.”

Dr. Billings opened the door. Olivia’s hand flew to her mouth, and Beth gasped and dropped her luggage. Bandages, dried blood, bruises, a pale, unmoving form…

“Oh, Aidan!”

Lightheadedness struck her hard, inciting a wave of dizziness that left her struggling for breath. The room shifted off-kilter, swaying her toward the doorframe. Yellow splotches fragmented her vision—they wouldn’t disappear no matter how many times she blinked, no matter how desperate she was to remain strong for her beau. She felt herself drifting, sinking…

Dr. Billings grasped her arm and steadied her. “I’ll have Mr. Motts arrange a taxicab for you and Ms. Weston. You can see Mr. Evans another day.”

Beth screwed her eyes shut, breathing deeply to fight the threat of unconsciousness. “No, I’m not leaving. I can’t.”

“Miss Sutton, you’ve had quite a shock. You mustn’t aggravate your condition.”

The floor beneath her seemed to stop moving. She cracked open her eyelids, testing her surroundings, assessing her situation. Yes, the vertigo was gone. Her mind was clearer, set to purpose.

She stood up straight and brushed the hair from her face. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.”

Dr. Billings released her slowly, watching over her as if she was the patient. “You cannot care for Mr. Evans properly if you neglect your own health.”

“Being separated from my beau is what will hurt me the most, Doctor. This is where I belong.”

Beth walked to Aidan’s bed. Dressed in a hospital gown, he lay on his back with a blanket pulled up to his mid-torso and his hands folded at his waist. Bandages covered his forehead and nose. His face was puffy and battered. The subtle rise and fall of his chest was the only indication of life.

A rectangular device—the cardioscope, most likely—sat on a stand next to his bed. Its monochrome display revealed a green trace that looked like a bouncing ball with a comet’s tail. The intravenous line Dr. Billings spoke of was inserted into Aidan’s left hand. Below that, on his middle finger, he wore the ring she had given him for Christmas.

“Oh, Aidan.” Her purse slipped off her shoulder as she fell to her knees. Tentatively, she touched his forearm. A shudder tore through her. Goodness, he felt so cold.

“Come on. Let’s get settled.” Olivia helped her to her feet and stowed her jacket and purse in the closet. They claimed the two chairs at Aidan’s bedside.

“Can I do anything to help him?” Beth regarded the physician with broad, desperate eyes.

Dr. Billings approached the bed. “Although there is no medical evidence to support it, I believe talking to him might do some good.”

Beth leaned toward her beau. “Aidan, it’s Beth. I love you very much. Please come back to me. Please.”

“I’ll leave you now. Call me if you need anything.” Dr. Billings patted her shoulder and left the room.

Beth tossed Olivia a teary glance. “He looks so helpless.”

Olivia straightened Aidan’s blanket. “He’ll get well, especially now that you’re here.”

A knock announced visitors. Olivia opened the door and greeted Connie and Matthew, much to Beth’s surprise and delight.

“We came as soon as we heard.” Connie embraced Olivia.

“Beth and I just arrived. How did you know Aidan was here?”

Matthew exchanged hesitant looks with Connie. “Nathan called us. He told us about Aidan’s condition and arranged clearance with hospital security so we could visit.”

Olivia’s lower lip trembled. “That was…nice of him.”

Connie crossed the threshold. Her eyes widened when they landed on Aidan.

“Dear God.” Releasing a sob, she threw herself at her fiancé and buried her face in his chest.