Chapter 11

 

Max waited for her outside the door to the hospital. He let the wind cool his heated face and hoped the chill would diminish his worry. He saw her car pull into the emergency parking lot, then she got out. He wished she wouldn’t hurry. He was afraid she’d slip on the ice. But God, he was glad she was here.

When she reached him, she hugged him tightly, didn’t let go. The solid weight of Whitney against him was a balm. How had he thought he could live without this woman?

When they drew apart, he took her hand and led her inside and up to the cardiac waiting area. She sat next to him on the padded couch. Absently, he reached over and unzipped her gray coat, unwound her scarf.

“What do you know?” she asked.

“He did have a heart attack. Certain enzymes slowly leak into your bloodstream after one. They found some. He’s having the coronary catheterization now.” He explained the procedure, which was basically injecting dye into the arteries to detect blockage.

“This is normal procedure after a heart attack, right?” They’d had EMT training, of course, with regular refresher courses.

“Yes. The test will determine if he needs surgery. When that will happen depends on the amount of blockage.”

She’d been holding his hands and she squeezed them. “Your dad is in good health. He exercises every day. If he needs a bypass, he’ll survive.”

“I hope so.” He stood. “Let’s go back to his room. We can wait there for the results of the tests.”

Once they were situated again, he asked, “Are you all right? You look peaked.”

Her hands went to her cheeks. “I love your father.”

“I know. But you were wiped out when you arrived.”

He knew her so well.

“I’ve had an interesting afternoon.”

He hesitated. Then, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

She watched him. “I do. Last night, when you were asleep, I couldn’t think of anything but the mess we’re in, so I did some research on the computer.”

“You should have woken me. Research on what?”

“My fears. My condition, I guess.”

“Being pregnant?”

“No. Max, I figured out I have PTSD.”

His lifted his hand and dropped it. “Why didn’t we think of that before?”

“I don’t know. I was so private about my counseling, my fears. But last night, when I typed in my symptoms, my history, that diagnosis came up.”

“Is this good or bad?”

“That depends.” She explained how she’d called a friend of hers in the FBI and was able to set up an appointment for her this afternoon.

“That’s the reason you took today off. Why didn’t you tell me all this? I would have gone with you. Driven you.”

“I had to do it alone. Besides, maybe God was looking out for your dad. You were with him when he had the attack.”

He thought that a God would have done much, much more, until he remembered that night at church. She could be right. “Maybe. So what happened?”

“I spent two hours with a Dr. Eve Evans. She’s an expert on PTSD, written lots of papers and was planning to work on her book this morning, but my friend convinced her to see me. She was terrific.”

“And you made it through retelling the accident?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to throw up after I told her everything. I didn’t, though. She thinks that she can help me.”

“Manage the fear. I have some friends who are veterans and they lead normal lives.”

“Exactly.”

His heart hammered so hard in his chest he thought she might be able to hear it. “What does that mean for…?” He gestured to her stomach.

“I think it’s good. Eve is squeezing in two more appointments for me this week.”

“I—”

“Agent Blackwell?”

Dr. Flagg stood in the doorway.

o0o

“He needs double-bypass surgery.” Dr. Flagg was matter-of-fact but kind in his delivery of information.

Whitney saw Max’s jaw tighten nonetheless. She stood, went behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Two of your father’s arteries are blocked. One ninety percent, one completely.”

“Oh, God.”

“People live with the condition for a long time without knowing they have it. His finally caught up to him.”

“He didn’t have any symptoms.”

“Yes, he did. He told me he’d had chest pains all week.”

“And he didn’t tell me.” Because Max had been such a wreck. He shook off the guilt. “In any case, bypass is necessary?”

“Yes. He told me you two are Secret Service agents, so you must know something about these procedures.”

They did. And Max had researched this. John would have grafts of arteries in his leg, and the doctors would replace the non-functioning vessels in his heart with the good ones. “There’s risk involved.”

“We’re assembling a team right now. They should be here within the hour. They’re some of the best doctors in the area. But yes, there’s always risks to surgery.”

Whitney asked the obvious. “Not operating would be a greater risk, though. Right?”

“Absolutely. And he’s a healthy seventy-year-old man otherwise. He was alert enough to give his consent.”

Max nodded. “Can we see him?”

“He’s had some sedation, but you can.” He looked to Whitney. “He asked for both of you.”

That made Whitney feel better.

They stood. Dr. Flagg led the way into the ER and down the long corridor.

His father was half-sitting up in bed, in his own cubicle in the cardiac unit. “Hey, son.”

They crossed to the bed, and Max took his hand. “Hey, Dad.”

Whitney leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Hi, John.”

“I knew you’d be here.”

“I am and I’m staying.”

“He needs you. In more ways than one.”

“Don’t worry about us,” she said softly. “Let’s concentrate on you.”

“All right. But I have one thing to say. Please, try to work out your problems. Max loves you, dear, very much.”

“And I love him as much. We’ll be fine.”

His dad closed his eyes.

They stayed for the hour it took to get the team assembled. The head surgeon came in and talked to John, explained the surgery and told him he’d done hundreds of these operations. Max and Whitney hung on his every word. After a while, the nurses came to take him to surgery.

Dr. Flagg stayed back. “You can stay here, or you can go back to the cardiac waiting room. I think you’ll be more comfortable there. Especially if others close to your father come.”

“What do you think?” Max asked her.

“Let’s go to the waiting room. You can use some coffee and I have some calls to make.”

When Flagg left, Max took her into his arms. “I can’t lose him, Whitney. Not when I might lose you, too. I can’t.”

“Don’t think that way. He’s going to be fine. And I’m right here.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

o0o

Connor, Nick and Gabe walked into the deserted waiting area an hour later. It was eerily silent. Connor went to Max and hugged him. “We got here as soon as we could.”

Max sighed. “I didn’t expect you to come.”

“Of course we came.”

Gabe was next, grabbing him up like Connor. “You’re family Max, and we’ll always be here for you.”

Max bit the inside of his jaw.

“Jesus, Blackwell,” Nick groused as he pulled him into a hug, too. “Now I feel like shit for hitting you.”

Their walk yesterday had cleared the air. But he was glad for Nick’s attempt to lighten the mood.

After they embraced Whitney, their gazes went to Connor.

“Tell us the details,” Max said. “I know the broad strokes, but I want to know step-by-step what they’re doing.”

“All right. Let’s sit.” The guys removed their coats and dropped down at the round table where he’d been waiting with Whit. “They’ll do surgery to remove the blood vessels from his leg. Then he’ll be hooked up to a heart-lung machine. It will keep the oxygenated blood circulating through his body while the surgeons operate.”

Max shivered.

“That sounds gruesome.”

“It’s better than using donated blood. And it’s not as complicated as it might seem, Max.” He squeezed Max’s arm for comfort. “Then the surgeons will remove the damaged arteries from his chest. They’ll implant the healthy ones. When all is in place, he’ll be taken off the heart-lung machine and bypass function will be checked. If everything is working right, they’ll stitch him up, put on bandages and take him to intensive care.”

“How long will he be out?” Max asked. “Will I be able to see him afterward?”

“It depends. Some patients take longer to come back to consciousness.”

“I hope he doesn’t take too long.”

Connor frowned. He seemed older, wiser and very well versed. “Even if he does, don’t jump the gun and worry too much. Everybody’s different.”

Gabe fished out a deck of cards from his coat pocket.

Max frowned at them. “I can’t play.”

“Of course you can.” Gabe’s tone was gentle. “It’s a long surgery. This will pass the time.”

He looked to Whitney. “I agree, babe. Let’s try.”

Nick added, “We’ll play Oh Hell.”

In Oh, Hell, all fifty-two cards were dealt in the first hand. Trump was declared by the last card dealt. The object of the game was to bid on how many tricks a player would take. Over or under bidding resulted in a loss. The hand was executed, then a second hand was dealt with four less cards. Thirteen hands, going from fifty-two cards to one, created the game. They’d played five of those when Dr. Flagg came into the waiting area.

Before they could even stand up, he said, “I’m here for an update. They’ve completed the removal of the blood vessels. The next step is replacing the ones in his heart. All is going as planned, Agent Blackwell.”

Max felt a modicum of relief. His dad would get through this. He would! Max had to have faith. He just wished it wasn’t in such short supply lately.

They went back to the cards. When they finished the game, Whitney stood. “I need to use the restroom.”

Connor rose, too. “I’m gonna stretch my legs.”

He and Whitney walked out of the waiting area together.

“They used to do this when they were little,” Gabe said, looking after them.

Max asked, “What?”

“Make excuses to be alone so they could talk to each other. God knows what they have to say that they can’t tell us.”

Maybe God knew, maybe He didn’t. But Max knew what it was. He’d almost forgotten about the host of things he and Whitney were dealing with. Best to keep it in the back of his mind for now. He had to concentrate on his dad.

o0o

Whitney found Connor outside the ladies’ room when she exited. He leaned up against the wall, arms folded over his chest.

“Do you want to talk?” He studied her. “You seem better, or are you putting a front up for Max?”

“I always pull through in a crisis. It’s the aftermath that levels me.”

“I hope you don’t get sick.”

“I’ll be strong for Max, no matter what it takes.”

He took her hand, squeezed her fingers. His comfort, his presence felt good. “This surgery has become common, Whit. I have a lot of confidence in this medical treatment.”

“Then I will, too.”

They walked to a little alcove with a phone and some chairs and settled there. “How are you today?” he asked.

“I have a lot to tell you.”

“I’m listening.”

“I went to see a psychologist this afternoon.”

“Oh, honey, that’s great. So you’ve decided to get help?”

“I needed to do something to alleviate this awful limbo. I love Max to pieces. If confronting my fears is what it will take to keep him, then I’ll go for it.”

“Was the counseling as awful as it was before?”

“At first. But there’s more.” She explained about the PTSD.

“Geez, two doctors in the family and nobody figured that out?”

“It doesn’t matter. We have now.”

“Where’s your head at?”

“Maybe approaching this from a different angle will bring about a breakthrough.” She frowned. “I should have been dealing with this before. I’m so sick of being…broken.”

“You’re not broken. And if you have PTSD, which makes sense, there are coping mechanisms you might not have tried.”

“I hope so. I’ve been running from the fear forever, and I want to be…normal.” Emotion bubbled up inside her, but she didn’t give into it.

He grasped her hand. “This is so good. Knowing what you’re dealing with, having a specialist help you analyze your fears. Help you manage them. It’s a huge step.”

“I’ve been so selfish,” she said, sitting back, watching him. “What’s going on with Calla?”

He sighed deeply. “Nothing. Nothing’s going on with her. I’m going to pretend these three days never happened. And I don’t want to talk about her now.”

She protested, but he wouldn’t budge. Finally, they went back to the waiting room and once again Whitney tried to concentrate on the matter at hand.

o0o

Whitney lay with her head on Max’s lap, a blanket over her. She’d tried to stay awake with him, but she’d fallen asleep sitting up, so he’d nudged her over. He was glad she slept. The worry was too much, even after they found out his father had come through the surgery. But his dad hadn’t woken up for three hours, and that could be a bad sign. They’d let Max sit with him once every hour but only for a few minutes.

At one point, Max had insisted the brothers go home to their families, and Nick and Gabe left. Connor was still with them, but he was asleep in a chair.

Max brushed his hand down Whitney’s hair. It was long and soft and silky. Of all her physical assets, and there were many, he loved her hair best. And what the fuck was he doing thinking about her appearance?

Trying to avoid reality. If his father didn’t wake up… He thought back to his childhood and images of his dad swam before his eyes:

When his mother had died and his father, who had to be devastated, held him in his lap. It’s okay to be sad, but I’ll always be there for you, son. And he had been.

His first day of kindergarten. Max was dressed in spiffy tan pants and a navy blue shirt of the private school his dad had sent him to. Education is important, son, but being with people your own age, making friends are what life’s about. Max had had no idea what his father was saying, but he’d made friends and hadn’t forgotten the advice. John Maxwell’s job had never been everything to him.

On his graduation from high school, his dad had said, Go with your girlfriend, son. You should be with your friends. At the time, he wondered why his dad’s eyes were sad. He had no inkling his father wanted to share the night with him.

Cornell, and his dad’s visits.

His graduation from the Secret Service training center.

The first time he’d gotten shot, before he worked with Whitney. His injury had been serious and his father stayed by his side 24/7. He’d regained consciousness and hadn’t even opened his eyes when he heard his dad talking to him. He didn’t know until later he’d done that for the whole twenty-four hours Max had lingered between life and death. I love you son. Please, please get better. I don’t want to live without you.

Now, he sat vigil. Now, he said the same prayer. And wondered how he’d ever make it through the rest of his life if his dad didn’t pull through.

o0o

“Whitney, take him home. He looks like hell.”

She said, “I think that’s a good idea.”

Max had spent a brutal night, waiting to see if the man he loved most in the world was going to live. At dawn, the doctor had come out and told him his father had regained consciousness. He was on a ventilator, but Max was allowed to see him periodically. When the machine had been removed and he was breathing on his own later in the day, he’d remained in CICU but could have visitors.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.” Max’s voice was stronger now.

The curtain opened and a nurse said, “There’s someone else to see you. She said a doctor called her.”

“I’ll go out.” This from Whitney.

A woman in a chic mauve coat and a sweep of graying hair came to the unit. Ignoring Max, she rushed to his side, sat on the mattress and grasped his hand. “John, darling, why didn’t you call me sooner?”

John darling?

“Lorelei. I’m glad you’re here.” John’s voice was raw.

“The doctor said you asked him to call me but would tell me only that you were here and had gone through bypass surgery. I’m angry with you that you didn’t have someone notify me sooner.”

“I know, love. I didn’t want you to worry. After losing Tim as you did…”

Max jammed his hands in his pockets. “Um, hello.”

Lorelei turned. “You must be Max.” The woman’s clear blue eyes widened. “Oh, you don’t know about me, do you?”

“Nope.”

“Son, this is Lorelei Denning.” John kissed her hand. “We’ve been seeing each other for quite some time now.”

Max practically sputtered. “Why didn’t you tell me, Dad?”

“Because I wanted to keep her all to myself.”

“My children don’t know, either,” Lorelei added, flushing prettily.

“Hmm. I’ll take this up with you, Dad, after you’re stronger. I’ll give you two time alone, and I’ll text you after I’ve had some sleep. Lorelei, nice meeting you, I guess.”

“Goodbye, Max.”

When he reached the waiting room, Whitney was standing by the door.

“Well, never a dull moment in my life.”

“No, I guess not. You can tell me on the way home. I want to get you in bed.”

“Ah, I like the sound of that.”

“I meant so you could sleep.”

He linked their hands. “I know, love.”

o0o

Max awoke to see darkness had fallen. He’d been so tired when they’d gotten back to his condo from the hospital that he’d barely shed his clothes before he fell into bed and passed out. Turning to his side, he saw Whitney next to him, her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. She’d put on light blue pajamas at some point. “Hi.”

She faced him. “Hi.”

“How long did I sleep?”

“Four hours. It about nine at night. I was out for a while, too. When I went to the bathroom, I called the CICU. John’s fine. Lorelei is staying at the hospital tonight.” She looked at the clock. “I didn’t sleep long, after zonking on top of you all those hours.”

He guessed now that his dad was on his way to recovery, Max had the stamina to deal with their situation. He switched on the night-table lamp. Then he faced her, ran his knuckles down her cheek. “What were you thinking about all this time?”

She crooked her elbow and rested her head in her hand. Her eyes shone with something he couldn’t decipher. She said simply, “I’ve made a decision about the baby.”