Chapter Twenty-Six
THINGS BECAME CRYSTAL clear to Treat as he sat by his father’s bedside in the hospital. It was time for him to come home and put down roots, and he wanted to do that with Max. He had built his empire based on his keen negotiating skills and his belief in personally being involved with every transaction. He’d entrenched himself so deeply that when it came to acquisitions, partnered with his legal and financial advisers, there was never a need to look outside of his own abilities. Now he was seeing another side to what he’d always done. He’d been hiding—from the guilt of leaving his family, from commitment, and from love. For the first time in his life, he cared about someone enough to want to stop hiding.
He took his father’s hand in his own, hoping it wasn’t too late for him to make up for all the years they’d missed.
“Do you want to go to Dad’s and put your stuff away? Relax for a little while?” Savannah asked.
“I’m not leaving,” Treat insisted. “But you can. I’ll be here when he wakes up.”
“I’m not ready to leave. Rex is coming back after he takes care of the evening chores. I’m sure it’ll be fine if you want to take shifts.”
“Savannah, I’m not going anywhere.” He didn’t mean to sound gruff, but seeing his father in the hospital bed brought painful memories of his mother’s last months. She’d been in and out of the hospital too many times to count, and though his father was much bigger, the hospital had the same effect on both of them, making them look diminished and weak beneath the sterile sheets.
“Okay. Dane finally got my messages. He’s in Australia and he’s taking the next flight home.”
“Did you reach Hugh?”
“He’s on his way, and before you can ask, Josh is on his way, too. He had to move his schedule around before he could leave,” she said. She moved to the seat closer to Treat. “Do you want to talk?”
“No. I want the doctors to finish the frigging tests and tell us what’s wrong with him.”
Their father stirred.
“Dad?” Treat rose to his feet as Hal blinked the sleep from his eyes.
“Treat? What are you doing here?” He looked around the room, confused. “What the…?” He looked down at his gown. “Aw, come on.” He frowned at Savannah.
Treat breathed a sigh of relief to see their father hadn’t lost his spunk. That had to be a good sign.
“You weren’t able to breathe, Dad. What did you want me to do, let you die right there in front of me?” Savannah asked.
“Wait.” It suddenly struck Treat that Savannah was supposed to have been back home in New York when this happened. “Why were you at Dad’s? I thought you went back to the city.”
His father’s low, rumbly voice answered him. “Turns out Connor Dean’s more than a client, and your sister here seems to have had a falling out with the man who isn’t good enough for her family to meet but is apparently good enough for her to jet all over the world with.”
Treat lifted his brows in Savannah’s direction.
Savannah half shrugged, then turned away—her familiar I can’t talk about it right now mannerism.
As much as Treat wanted to find out what was going on with his sister, he couldn’t focus on her love life right then. Not while Max was across the country preparing to face down her nemesis and his father was lying in a hospital bed. “Dad, you should probably settle down. They’re running all sorts of tests to see what happened, but they think it might have been your heart.”
“Pfft.” Hal waved a hand as if that were absurd. “I saw your mother again, that’s all. Your sister overreacted.”
Savannah and Treat exchanged a worried look. Treat thought back to when he’d first arrived at the bungalow. He’d sworn his mother was nearby, and even now he wondered if she had been.
Their father pushed the button on his bed, raising it so he could sit up properly. “Don’t think I didn’t see that look, you two.”
“Dad,” Savannah began. “We’re just worried about you.”
“Well, how about you worry about yourself. And you.” He pointed at Treat. “Your mother is worried sick about you. What the hell are you doing about that sweet girl, Max? I met her, you know. We all did. Reminds me of your mother. She’s a darlin’ thing, and I bet she’s got a stubborn side, too.”
Treat smiled to himself, thinking about their morning. “Yes, she does.”
Luckily, before they went any further down the your mother road, the doctor came into the room. Dr. Mason Carpenter had been their father’s physician for as long as Treat could remember. When he retired two years earlier, his son and partner in the medical practice, Ben, had taken over. Ben and Treat had grown up together, and Treat not only trusted his medical judgment, but he had always found Ben to be a loyal friend. He shook Ben’s hand.
“Treat, good to see you,” Ben said, his eyes shifting to Savannah.
Ben had harbored a crush on Savannah when they were younger. Treat remembered the summer after Savannah had completed ninth grade and he and Ben had been home from college. Savannah had realized that her body was no longer that of a young girl and had flaunted it as such, much to Treat’s dismay. Ben hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her then, and from the looks of him now, those feelings hadn’t changed.
“Savannah, you’re still here,” Ben said with surprise. “Nice to see you heeded my suggestion to go home and relax for a while.”
“Yes, and I’m not leaving anytime soon.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him.
“Benjamin, when am I getting out of this place?” their father asked.
Ben smiled and said, “Well, Mr. Braden, I have to ask you a few questions. What were you doing when your symptoms began? Savannah wasn’t sure. Were you doing anything strenuous?”
“I told you. He was in the barn when I found him—”
“The last time I looked, honey, I was Mr. Braden,” their father said. “Now, he might have been talking to Treat, I suppose, but Ben here has been to medical school, and I can’t imagine by the way he looks at you that he would mistake you for a mister.”
Ben blushed.
Treat laughed under his breath. Yup, Dad. You’re just fine.
“To answer your question, I was in the barn with Hope,” their father answered. “And, Ben, call me Hal, please. How many years have I been telling you that?”
“And were you brushing her? Mucking out the stall?” Ben asked. “What exactly were you doing?”
Treat had to smile at the way Ben ignored his father’s request. Ben had told his father at least a dozen times that he had too much respect for him to call him by his first name, and his father still hadn’t stopped grumbling about it.
Hal set his mouth in a serious line and crossed his arms. Treat watched his father’s biceps bounce to the same rhythm of his clenching jaw, reminding him so much of Rex, it was uncanny. Sitting up straighter, with annoyance stewing just under his skin, his father no longer looked small or sickly in the hospital gown. He looked like he was ready to haul his butt out of bed and get back to work.
There’s the dad I know and love. Treat looked up at the ceiling and mouthed, Thank you.
“Mr. Braden?” Ben urged.
Hal grumbled under his breath, then said, “Oh, all right. But I don’t want to hear any crap about this, you hear me, Benjamin?”
“Yes, sir. No crap,” Ben said with a nod.
Ben had seen Hal through every mood on the spectrum. He and his parents had enjoyed many barbecues at the ranch with his family.
“I was talking to Adriana.” Hal scanned his children’s faces first, then his doctor’s.
Treat knew his father saw exactly what he did on Savannah and Ben’s faces—pity. He used to have to work hard to keep that same look from his own, but after the Cape, he was no longer certain of anything where his mother was concerned.
“Don’t look at me like that. It doesn’t matter what you think of it. Adriana was there, and she was watching over Hope the same way I was.” He shifted his eyes to Treat and pointed a finger. “She’s worried that you’re going to get so lost in your own little world of resorts and whatever else eats up your time, you’ll forget about the thing that matters most.” He patted his heart.
Ben drew his eyebrows together, and Treat held his hands palms up, as if to say, That’s Dad for you. But Treat couldn’t lie to himself. His father’s words spoke directly to his thoughts where Max was concerned.
“Mr. Braden, I don’t doubt that you believe you saw your wife,” Ben said carefully, “or that you have ongoing conversations with her.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Ben,” Savannah said with a sigh.
Treat touched her arm and shook his head. She sat down and crossed her legs, bouncing her foot up and down.
“Hear me out, please, Savannah.” Ben continued. “Your father had all the symptoms of a heart attack, but I believe he actually suffered from broken heart syndrome.”
“Okay, you know what?” Savannah rose to her feet and headed for the door. “I can’t listen to this nonsense anymore. Treat, get me when…just get me after, okay?”
“I’m sorry, Ben,” Treat said. “She’s apparently had a rough time lately. Please continue.”
“Broken heart syndrome can mirror all the symptoms of a heart attack, from difficulty breathing and chest pain to low blood pressure and even weakening of the heart muscle.”
“That sounds like a heart attack. What’s the difference?” Treat placed his hand over his father’s.
“Well, BHS is also called stress cardiomyopathy, because it’s caused by severe stress, usually emotional—intense fear, anger, surprise. There are two major differences between a heart attack and BHS. The first is that most heart attacks occur due to blockages and blood clots forming in the coronary arteries. If those clots cut off the blood supply to the heart for a long enough time, the heart muscle cells can die, leaving the patient with permanent and irreversible damage. But with BHS, patients have fairly normal coronary arteries, like your father does, without the presence of severe blockage or clots.”
No blockage. No clots. Good arteries. Treat squeezed his father’s hand.
“The second difference,” Ben explained, “is that with stress cardiomyopathy, the heart cells are stunned by the adrenaline and other stress hormones, but not killed as they are with a heart attack. And as I’m certain we’ll find with your father, that stunned effect gets better very quickly, often within just a few short days. So even if a patient suffers heart muscle weakness at the time of the event, the heart completely recovers within just a few weeks, and in most cases, there’s no permanent damage.”
“And that’s what you expect with Dad?” That’s it. I’m definitely spending more time at home.
“Yes, exactly. From what we’ve seen with BHS, there’s no pattern of recurrence. It can happen, but we’ve never observed it.”
“So, you’re saying I was too emotional and had a fake heart attack that weakened the heart muscle, but it’ll repair itself and I’ll be fine?” Hal asked.
“Yes, sir. The damage to your heart muscles was minimal, so you should make a full recovery.”
“Well, then, I can go home and run my ranch.” Hal started to get out of bed.
Ben put a hand on Hal’s arm. “Not so fast. We gave you some medication to lighten the load on your heart while you recover. I want to monitor you for the next few hours, but then you should be good to go. I’ll go over the protocol with you before you’re released.”
“So he should be okay?” Treat asked.
“Yes.” Ben looked at Hal and said, “But, Mr. Braden, you cannot go back to working the ranch right away, as I know you’d like to. You should recover in a few weeks. But during that time, I don’t want you to do any strenuous work. Treat, can I count on you to ensure that he complies?” Ben ignored Hal’s groan and his harsh stare.
“Of course,” Treat answered.
“He’s got his own life to lead, Benjamin. What kind of garbage is that?” Hal lowered his voice and mumbled, “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Of course you don’t. I’m sure you’ll go home and do exactly what I advise, because you were always so compliant with my father.” Ben coughed and said, “Broken arm,” at the same time.
Treat cracked a smile at his friend’s levity and his father’s simmering anger. Years earlier, his father had suffered a fractured arm, and instead of listening to Ben’s father’s medical advice, he was back on his favorite horse later that afternoon—and in the doctor’s office two hours later, after the fracture had morphed into a full break and he’d needed a cast.
“Ben, thank you. I appreciate you taking such good care of him.” Treat shook Ben’s hand.
“Do you want me to send Savannah in if I see her?” Ben asked.
“No need,” Savannah said as she walked in with her cell phone in her hand and suspicious red rings around the edges of her eyes. “I heard all of it.”
Treat knew she’d been crying, though if that was due to their father or Connor, he couldn’t be sure. He put his hand protectively on the small of her back.
“I’m sorry if I upset you, Savannah,” Ben said.
She nodded, then took her father’s hand. “So, basically, Dad needs to stop talking to Mom and stop worrying about us?”
Ben smiled. “Well, given that I don’t think your father will ever stop doing either one of those things, no. For now we’ll go with something a little easier, like maybe talking out some of his frustrations instead of holding them in.”
“I’m not talking to a therapist, if that’s what you’re saying, Benjamin. Your father would never ask me to do that,” Hal said.
“Dad, you’ll do whatever he tells you to do,” Savannah said.
“Don’t worry. I would never think of advising such a thing. My father schooled me well in the way of the Bradens. What I recommend is that when you are worried—or your wife is worried”—he ignored Savannah’s eye roll—“about something like your children, talk to them about it. Don’t keep it inside. And if there are troubles with the ranch, talk it through with Rex.”
“Or me,” Treat added.
“Did I hear my name?” Rex came through the door. His eyes locked on his father’s, then slowly met Treat’s. “Talk what through with me?”
“I was telling your father that he needed to stop holding things in, and if he has issues with the ranch, to talk them through with you…or Treat, I suppose,” Ben said.
“Treat’s never here,” Savannah argued.
“Of course.” Rex kept his eyes locked on his father. “You can count on me, and Savannah’s right. Treat’s never here.”
Treat met Rex’s cold gaze and said, “I will be from now on.”