Lightning Only Strikes Twice (29 page)

The knock sounded again, louder this time. She frowned at the visitor’s impatience and crossed the room to peek through the curtains.

It wasn’t Luke. Disappointment warred with relief when she didn’t recognize the older gentleman on her doorstep.

Moving the curtains drew the man’s attention and she quickly let them drop and stepped away from the window.

“Miss Crawford.” A booming voice penetrated through the door. “Annie Crawford, I know you’re in there. My name is Arnold Maxwell. Open the door so I can talk to you.”

She hesitated. Maxwell? Was this man related to Luke?

She turned the lock and peeked out. “Yes?”

“I’m Luke Maxwell’s father.” Without the door between them, he lowered his voice a little but it still seemed to rise from the soles of his polished shoes. “Please let me in.”

Annie stood aside and allowed Luke’s father into her modest home.

His brown eyes, so like Luke’s, swept the room missing nothing. The inspection took only seconds before returning to pin her with an assessing gaze that took even less time.

Heat rushed to her cheeks at his brusque appraisal. Admittedly, neither she nor her home offered more than a plain, unpretentious image. However, her house was neat, clean, and more than many others had. She didn’t appreciate his quick dismissal. Consequently, her tone was less than welcoming. “Was there something you wanted, Mr. Maxwell?”

“You’re moving?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I’m moving.” She scowled at him. “I’m sure that’s not why you’re here.”

He grunted. “Straight to the point. I can appreciate that.” He puffed his chest out slightly. “I came to tell you to stay away from Luke.”

Annie blinked. “Excuse me?” That was the last thing she expected to hear.

The elder Maxwell stepped farther into her living room, his large frame shrinking the space. He glanced at the baseball game on the television, then looked curiously at her. “You watch major-league baseball?”

Of course she did. Grandpa rarely missed a Mets game, but when his team wasn’t playing, any team would do. As a child, she’d learned to either like the game or spend Saturday afternoons entertaining herself. “Habit, I suppose. My grandfather loved the game.”

She crossed to the TV and turned it off. In the awkward silence that followed, she waited for Mr. Maxwell to say more.

Instead of explaining why he wanted her to stop seeing Luke, he made another strange observation. “I see you haven’t changed the place much since Rick died.”

A sudden chill climbed up her back. She thought her grandfather had only negotiated with Maxwell on the property—as a business acquaintance.

“Exactly how well did you know my grandfather?”

“Better than you think. I’ll bet you’re as prickly as he was, too. But that’s not why I’m here.” Mr. Maxwell’s gaze landed on her once again. “Like I said, stay away from my son.”

“I’m not seeing Luke,” she said. It wasn’t a lie. She’d walked away three nights ago and he hadn’t tried to contact her since.

Mr. Maxwell frowned. “I don’t believe you. Ever since the accident, he’s been acting strange. He’s even altered the plans for the property’s development.” Mr. Maxwell stepped closer. “I’m sure it’s because of you.”

Annie gripped the back of the overstuffed chair for support. Luke changed the development plans? “I don’t know anything about his project.” Her voice was so quiet Mr. Maxwell leaned closer to hear her.

“Is that so?”

Annie nodded.

“And you’re not seeing him?”

She looked him square in the eyes. “No. I’m not. I have no reason to lie to you.”

“Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but I can’t figure out why he broke up with Emmaline.” Maxwell frowned. “You must be the reason.”

She was still wondering about Luke changing the property plans when Maxwell’s remark finally sunk in. “He told me they weren’t engaged.” She spoke almost to herself. “I’m sure their breakup wasn’t because of me.

“Ha! So you
are
seeing him.”

She shook her head. “No. We met by chance at the library a couple of days ago, and went for coffee after, then I left.” A heaviness invaded her chest. “We have nothing in common.” Admitting it out loud made it all the more real. “I told him it wouldn’t work.”

“Damn straight it won’t. I didn’t want him to settle down with that society witch, but I absolutely refuse to let him get involved with the granddaughter of a cheat!”

Annie face flashed hot, then cold.

Maxwell’s comment was not only rude, it was a lie.

She squared her shoulders. “What did you say?”

“You heard me!” A harsh cough followed his words.

“My grandfather wasn’t a cheat. You have no right to say that.”

He cleared his throat while rubbing his jaw. “I have more right than you know.”

Annie took a deep breath, unable to believe Maxwell’s audacity. “I think you’d better leave.”

Maxwell coughed again, and ran a finger under his collar. “Well, I’ve said what I came to say.” Color infused his already ruddy cheeks as he pivoted and stomped toward the door. He jerked it open, but instead of rushing out, he turned to glare at her. “Stay away from my son.”

“You should have this conversation with him,” she said. “Not me.”

Maxwell’s lips thinned to grim line. He grunted and started out. As he stepped over the threshold, he groaned and leaned against the frame, clutching his arm.

The ruddy shade in his cheeks turned ashen.

Alarmed, Annie rushed to his side. “What wrong?” She touched his shoulder. “Mr. Maxwell, are you ill?”

He looked at her. His eyes were wide, a mix of pain and fear. His mouth opened. A strangled gasp escaped. Then he collapsed.

She caught him, but he was too heavy to hold up. As carefully as she could, she lowered him to the floor. She knelt beside him. The first-aid training she’d had when her grandfather became ill, took over.

Her fingers automatically felt his neck for a pulse. When she couldn’t find it, her stomach clenched.

“No!” She patted his cheek. “Mr. Maxwell. Arnold. Can you hear me?”

No response.

She jumped to her feet and ran to the desk, snatched the cordless phone and punched 9-1-1. With the receiver to her ear, she rushed back to his side. Placing her hands on his chest, she started CPR.

Somehow, she managed to keep the phone cradled on her shoulder between chest compressions. A calm voice on the other end of the line answered and she swallowed some of her fear.

“Nine-one-one. What is the nature of your emergency?”

“I think he had a heart attack,” she told the operator. “I’m giving CPR now.”

“Is the victim conscious, breathing, or alert?”

“No.” Annie shook her head, her body reacting to the question even though no one could see her. “He’s not alert,” she added.

“Is he breathing?”

Annie stopped the compressions and placed her cheek near his mouth and nose. “No,” she said into receiver.

“What is your address?”

Annie spouted off her address between the compressions.

“Do you know how to give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?” the operator asked.

“Yes. I’ll have to put the phone down.” Without waiting for a reply, she dropped the phone and began mouth-to-mouth. Between breaths, she returned to her compressions.

Long minutes passed before sirens sounded in the distance.

Thank goodness! Her arms were ready to give out.

Moments later, the emergency team rushed through the open doorway, followed immediately by fire department personnel.

The two teams laid out their equipment. One tech stripped Maxwell from the waist up and attached monitoring leads to his chest.

“He’s flatlined.”

Annie had been in this situation with her grandfather. She realized Mr. Maxwell was fighting for his life and there was nothing more she could do.

She stepped aside to let the men work. A fireman found the phone on the floor and spoke to the 9-1-1 operator. After he disconnected the call, he handed it back to her. She clutched it to her chest, desperate for something to hold.

The tech pulled out the paddles and placed them on Mr. Maxwell’s chest. “Clear!”

Mr. Maxwell jerked. The monitor beeped and the steadied into a rhythm.

“Got him,” the tech said.

How different this situation was from when Elizabeth died. If only this kind of immediate care had been available. She shook her head. That was another time and place.

Thank goodness Mr. Maxwell was in the here and now.

“Please don’t let him die,” Annie whispered. Arnold Maxwell might have been an ass for the things he’d said to her, but he didn’t deserve to die.

“They’re doing everything they can to save your father, ma’am,” the fireman assured her.

“He’s not my father,” Annie replied automatically.

“You’re not the victim’s daughter?” the fireman asked for confirmation.

“No. He’s the father of a friend.” If she dared call Luke a friend. “He knew my grandfather.”

“Is there a medical history we should be aware of?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Hey, Carlson,” the fireman called to one of the emergency techs. “No med history.”

The tech nodded and returned to prepping the IV.

The emergency crew worked quickly. Within minutes of arriving, they had Mr. Maxwell ready to move out.

“Where are you taking him?” Annie asked.

“We’re transporting to St. Luke’s. Do you know who his physician is?”

She remembered Dr. Michaels’s card. She hoped he was also Arnold Maxwell’s doctor. “Yes. I’ll call him and let him know what’s happened.”

“You can follow us in your car, if you’d like.”

Annie reached for her purse on the stand next to the phone. “I’ll be there right after I’ve made the call.”

She was surprised to see her hands trembling as she fished out Dr. Michaels’s card. She took a few deep breaths before dialing. When the receptionist picked up, she learned the doctor wasn’t in, so she passed along the information, stressing the nature of the emergency. As she hung up, she realized she’d have to call Luke.

From memory, she dialed the number to his office. He wasn’t there either, so she left a message for him to come to the hospital as soon as possible.

Already loaded on the gurney, Mr. Maxwell was still unconscious, but Annie knew he was in the best care available.

Seeing the oxygen mask covering his face brought back memories of the last time she’d done this very thing for her grandfather. Except her grandfather had been too old and his heart too weak to recover. She hoped Luke’s father would fare better.

Mr. Maxwell had come to her home specifically to tell her to stay away from his son. Their stressful argument likely triggered a heart attack.

That responsibility lay heavily in her heart. Regardless of whether the man liked her or not, she couldn’t let him arrive at the hospital alone.

After locking her house, she climbed into her car and followed the ambulance down the street. She prayed Luke would make it to the hospital quickly.

Chapter Seventeen

Luke ran through the parking lot toward the emergency room, cursing the rain and inconvenient parking so far from the entrance. The pungent scent of antiseptic greeted him as the automatic doors opened. He hurried to the nurse’s desk.

“My father.” He caught his breath. “Arnold Maxwell. Which room is he in?”

Before the nurse could answer, a voice behind him called out. “Luke.”

He turned and saw Annie.

In an instant, she was in his arms. He held her against his chest. “My God, Annie. What are you doing here? Are you hurt?” He touched her cheek, then cupped her face and stared into her eyes, bright with tears.

“I’m fine.” She brushed the tears away. “I’m glad you got here so quickly. I was afraid that if…your father…”

“Mr. Maxwell is in treatment room B,” the nurse interrupted.

Luke glanced from Annie back to the nurse. “Can I see him?”

“Not yet. I’ll tell the doctor the next of kin is here.” She picked up the phone.

Luke’s head spun. Why was Annie here? If the nurse had to notify the doctor about next of kin…did that mean…?

The nurse put down the phone and spoke to Luke. “You can go on back now.”

“Go,” Annie said. “He needs you.”

Luke took Annie’s hand. “Come with me.”

She pulled free. “I can’t,” she said backing away.

Seeing the anguish on her face loosened something around his heart. “Annie…”

“Sir, if you’ll come with me.” The nurse beckoned.

He hesitated and then turned to follow. With a quick glance in Annie’s direction, he said, “Wait for me.”

Indecision filled her eyes.

“Please,” he said.

She nodded. “Okay. Just go to him.”

Assured, he followed the nurse down the hall.

A few treatment rooms were separated by curtains. The nurse stopped in front of a room walled off by glass windows. Inside, on a hospital bed, lay his father.

A tube stuck out of his mouth. Another ran into his arm. There was an alarming pallor under his tan. If the heart monitor hadn’t bleeped a steady rhythm, Luke would have assumed the worst.

What had happened? Why was his father here? Why was Annie at the hospital with him?

A doctor stepped out of the exam room, leaving a nurse to attend the patient. He spotted Luke. “Luke Maxwell?”

“Yes.” His voice choked.

“I’m Dr. Reynolds.” He offered his hand.

Luke automatically shook the doctor’s hand, yet his eyes never left his father.

“Let’s step in here,” the doctor said and gestured down the hall.

Luke reluctantly looked away and followed Dr. Reynolds into another room. He took a chair next to the desk. “What happened to my father?”

The doctor walked around the desk and sat. “He had an acute myocardial infarction.” He opened a folder he’d carried in. “He was fortunate to be resuscitated immediately or he wouldn’t be with us.”

“Myo…what?”

“Heart attack,” the doctor replied.

“My father’s never been sick a day in his life,” Luke said.