Windstar (15 page)

It wasn’t clear to authorities if he lost control of his Jaguar because of the rain or if he deliberately aimed for the tree around which he wrapped the silver sports car but since there were no skid marks on the highway and the actor had a blood-alcohol content of .30, they were inclined to believe he had passed out at the wheel.

* * * *

Angela shifted in the uncomfortable chair and flexed her shoulders. The steady beep-beep-beep of the machines had kept her awake and she had a miserable headache as light seeped in from the cracks in the vertical blinds. She had spent much of the night sitting there watching the steady drip-drip-drip of the IV. Exhausted, she got up and went to the sink, turned on the cold water then bent over to splash water onto her face. Straightening, she looked into the mirror and hardly recognized the woman she saw there. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, her face looked tight and drawn. She frowned and turned away to pull some rough paper towels from the dispenser. Blotting her face dry, she went back to the chair but just couldn’t force herself to sit down. Instead, she bent over to retrieve her purse and quietly left the room.

“Good morning,” the nurse at the desk greeted her.

“Good morning,” Angela said. “I’m going down to the cafeteria to get some breakfast. Will you page me if there’s any change?”

“I sure will,” the nurse agreed.

The elevator took forever to come up and when Angela walked inside the cage, she hung her head.

“We believe he might have been trying to kill himself,” Bobby had told her when he’d reached her the night it had happened. “He’s in pretty bad shape.”

Angela sagged against the elevator wall, remembering her first look at Rory when she’d arrived at the Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. She’d had to grab for Bobby to keep her knees from buckling.

“It looks worse than it really is,” Bobby had assured her. “He was lucky he was drunk when it happened.”

“Let’s list the relatively minor stuff first,” Rory’s doctor said. “He has a concussion, four broken ribs, a broken left arm, and his right leg is broken. A ruptured spleen and a punctured lung resulted in emergency surgery from which he has yet to awaken. Ironically enough, there isn’t a scratch on that handsome face of his. How he managed that is beyond us considering the windshield buckled inward when he struck the tree.”

Since the afternoon before Angela had sat at Rory’s bedside--willing him to open those beautiful green eyes--but he had remained in a coma, as still as death though now and again she saw his eyes moving back and forth behind the closed lids.

“That may be REM sleep,” a nurse had informed her. “The doctors aren’t sure if there is such a thing for patients in a coma but since his eyes are tracking like that, it would seem that’s what’s happening.” She’d patted Angela’s hand. “That might also mean he’s struggling to wake up. Talk to him, dear. I really believe he can hear you.”

Angela had not done that. Other than bending over him to tell him she was there when she’d first arrived, she’d said nothing else to her husband.

The cafeteria in the South Tower was livelier at 6:45 a.m. than Angela would have thought it would be. She ordered a large breakfast from the grill since she hadn’t eaten the evening before and was so hungry she reasoned her headache was based on her lack of nourishment. She had just sat down to eat when she looked up to see Rory’s mother and father hurrying toward her. She pushed her chair back and stood.

“They told us you were here,” Ewan Keith said, bending down to kiss Angela on the cheek. “We just arrived.”

“Have you been in to see him?” Angela asked. She hugged Rory’s mother then told them to take a seat.

“We did,” Johanna Keith replied. “My poor baby boy looks so helpless laying there.”

“Do you want some breakfast?” Angela queried and when they shook their heads and told her to continue eating, she picked up her fork. “Where are you staying?”

“Bobby got us a hotel room but we haven’t been there yet. He’s parking the car,” Ewan said. “We wanted to see R.J. right off.”

“The doctor says he’ll have a full recovery,” she told them.

“Maybe his body will, dear, but will his heart?” Johanna asked. “He’s been so worried about you. He’s had men searching for you all over ….”

“I know,” Angela said. “Bobby told me.”

“How did you learn of his accident?” Rory’s father asked.

“On the news like most everyone else,” Angela replied. “I called Bobby right away and I took the next plane out.”

“From where?” Johanna inquired but Angela didn’t answer her. She exchanged a look with her husband who shook his head as though to caution his wife not to push. But Rory’s mother ignored him. “Angie, he’s sorry for what he did,”

“Men make mistakes,” Ewan said. “He’s paying for his.”

“Not all men cheat on their wives, Ewan,” Angela said softly as she pushed her plate aside. “I’ve just been lucky enough to find two who do.”

Johanna winced and looked to her husband for support.

“Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive him, dear?” Ewan asked. “He’s been so miserable without you.”

Angela started to answer but then saw Bobby coming toward them. She smiled at him as he took a seat and sat forward. Her smile faded when she saw the look in Bobby’s eyes. “What’s happened now?” she asked.

“Velvet MacCarrick held a press conference this morning in Edinburgh,” Bobby said. “It seems she wanted the world to know she’s pregnant with Rory’s baby and that she’s flying to his side.”

“Oh, not again!” Johanna said with disgust. “And now of all times for that little tart to make such a statement! She’d better not show her lying face here!”

“It could be true this time, Jo,” Angela told her mother-in-law. “He certainly can’t deny he slept with the woman when the entire world knows he did.”

“Those damned indecent pictures from Greece!” Ewan snarled. “They made me sick to my stomach!”

“I wasn’t thrilled to see them myself,” Angela quipped, the image of the telephoto shots of her husband’s naked body covering Velvet’s like a red hot poker in her mind.

“The hospital isn’t going to allow her to bring her dog and pony show here, but they can’t keep her from talking to reporters outside,” Bobby reminded everyone. He looked at Angela. “If you don’t want her visiting your husband, you’d better tell the administration that right now. You can keep her from seeing him and turning this into a spectacle.” He gave her a steady look. “I know for a fact he wouldn’t want her in his room.”

Angela nodded. “I’ll take care of it, Bobby. I’d like you to hire a couple of guards to make sure she doesn’t slip past.”

“Will do.”

“You need to take care of your husband,” Johanna said. “Running away from your problems never solved anything, Angie.”

“I know that,” she said. Once more she got to her feet. “Bobby, take Rory’s parents up to his room. I’ll go see about getting the Velvet Touch kept away.”

Rory’s mom would have spoken again but her husband reached over to place a restraining hand on his wife’s arm. Johanna Keith clamped her lips together but her stormy hazel eyes promised the two of them would talk about it later.

“Oh, Mrs. Keith,” the nurse said as she came toward Angela outside the cafeteria. “I was just coming to get you. He’s waking up.”

Angela’s heart did a funny little squeeze. “I’ve just heard that the MacCarrick woman is on her way to visit my husband. Could you make sure she isn’t allowed in?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the nurse stated. “Gladly.”

When Angela arrived back at Rory’s room, his doctors were in with him, the room crowded with people. She was waiting outside when his parents joined her. “I heard him talking,” she told his mother. “He sounds groggy but at least he’s out of the coma.”

“Bobby is calling an agency to get guards sent over,” Ewan said.

“You two should go in to see him when the doctors come out,” Angela said.

“Absolutely not!” Johanna said. “Yours should have been the first face the lad saw when he opened his eyes.”

Angela didn’t want to argue with her mother-in-law, so she just nodded her agreement at the woman’s words. She was pacing in front of the door when the medical team came out. Dr. Jonas Leverton, Rory’s physician, came over to put a hand on her shoulder.

“He’s gonna be just fine, Mrs. Keith. He’s not clear on what happened to him just yet though.”

“Does he know I’m here?”

The doctor smiled. “He asked if anyone had gotten in touch with you and I told him we had and that you were here. He asked me to fetch you for him. He is quite anxious to see you.”

“Thank you, doctor,” she said and took a deep breath before pushing open the door to Rory’s room. She saw him turn his head toward her and the look on his face cut her to the quick.

“I didn’t know if you’d come,” he said.

“I’m here, Boss Man,” she said and went to the bed.

His gaze was moving over her face as though he wasn’t sure it was her. “Where’ve you been, wench?” he asked, moisture gathering in his wounded eyes.

“Where you would never have looked,” she said and snaked her hand over the bed’s safety railing to touch the arm into which the IV was trailing. His other arm was encased in a thick cast. “I don’t guess you had anything better to do with your time than see if that ugly car of yours could mow down a century old tree.”

“You know me,” he said. “Always trying to see what I can do.”

“You’re very trying,” she agreed and slid her fingers through his. “But you’re lovable when you fuck up.”

He flinched. “There’s something I have to tell you, Angie,” he said.

“If it’s about your supposed impending fatherhood, I’ve already heard,” she said. “As has the rest of the world by now.”

He closed his eyes, squeezing the lids together tightly, giving her the impression he was in a lot of pain. “The bitch.”

“You might not dodge this bullet, Harper,” she said, using the name of his character in The Wayward Wind. “She very well could be carrying your child.”

“Angie, I ….”

“Your mom and dad are here so I’m not going to stay long. I know they want to look in on you.” She tried to ease her fingers from his but he tightened his grip, weak though it was.

“Don’t leave me,” he said and she thought he would start to cry, something the man seemed capable of doing at the drop of a hat. “Please, Angie. Please, don’t leave me again.”

“I’m just going down the hall to the waiting room, Keith. I’m tired and I’ve got the headache from hell but I’m not leaving the hospital.”

“Angie ….” His voice broke.

“Suck it up, Boss Man,” she said and managed to wrestle her hand from his grip. “I’m not going anywhere I told you. You’re stuck with me because you can’t seem to do
anything
right whenever I’m not dogging your ass. I leave Greece and you put your pecker in the first available slick cunt. Then you get roaring drunk and plow your car into a poor, defenseless tree that never hurt anyone in its life until you decided to wrap yourself around it. How could you do that, Rory? The poor thing had to be cut down!”

“I’m sorry, wench,” he said. “I ….”

“It’s probably firewood for some idiot producer’s bungalow by now.”

“I am so sorry, Angie. I ….”

“Don’t you say another word,” she warned, her eyes flashing dangerous fire. “Not another goddamned word about it. You understand? I mean it. We won’t discuss it ever again. The death of that poor tree will be on your conscience!”

“Will you forgive me?” he asked, knowing she knew it wasn’t about the tree for which he was begging forgiveness.

“I forgave you when you did it, you moron. That’s because I love your sorry ass, warts, and all,” she said as she walked to the door. She turned and looked back at him. “I just won’t ever forget it, Keith. You’re gonna buy a tree to replace the one you killed!”

With that said she opened the door and walked past his parents, telling them their son needed them.

Epilogue

“Don’t you think fifty thousand dollars was a bit much for a single tree?” Rory asked as he and his wife lay in the double hammock on the deck and looked up at the stars sparkling above Malibu.

“It was sap money, you idjit,” she pronounced. “Sort of like blood money only stickier. A lot of little trees will be born because of your generosity.”

Rory sighed. His arm and leg ached although the casts were off at last. His entire body ached but he didn’t want Angela to know. If she even suspected he was in pain of any kind, she’d get up out of his arms and leave him alone in the stillness of the ocean-misted night.

“Still, fifty-thousand. That’s what I’m saying,” he complained.

They were quiet for awhile and then Angela gasped. “Did you see that?” she asked, lifting a hand to point to the sky.

He’d seen the shooting star and closed his eyes, making an automatic wish. “Aye, I saw it,” he whispered.

Angela thought about the woman who was carrying her husband’s child and wondered if she’d seen the star as it fell from the heavens. Despite hating Velvet MacCarrick with every fiber of her being, she’d made her wish on the star for the little one the starlet carried that it be healthy and strong.

“You know,” Rory said as he lightly stroked her arm. “It’s been nearly two months since the accident and I’m hail and hearty now, wench.”

“Hot and horny is more like it,” she said as his hand moved to her breast to lightly squeeze.

“Aye, well, there is that, too,” he said and as it always did, his accent became more pronounced when he was aroused.

“The doctor says I can have wild monkey sex now if I take it easy.”

Angela smiled in the darkness. “Which means no hanging from the chandelier, I suppose.”

He bent his head to nuzzle her neck. “I need you, wench.”

A part of her wanted to say something mean, to remind him any woman might do, but she stomped down that jealous reaction. Though they had gotten back together again while he’d still been confined to the hospital, they had yet to sleep together in the biblical sense and her body was hungry for his.

“It won’t happen again,” he said as if he knew precisely what she was thinking. “I swear to you, it won’t.”