Living Violet (20 page)
Coarse thickness clung to the back of my throat. My stomach tightened, my lungs heaved to get it out, the words, the sob, the scream. Nothing came but hot air.
A violent jerk snapped my head back, my body shook. Someone was screaming at me. Irritated, I looked up at those crazy purple-blue eyes. It looked like something was moving inside them, swirling in a whirlpool around the cornea.
“SAMARA!”
I jumped. “What?”
“What is going on? What did your dad say?”
After a long blink and shake of the head, my hearing returned along with the dizziness. I leaned my head against his chest. “My mom just had a heart attack.”
His hands slid across my back and pulled me closer. “I'm so sorry. How is she?”
“I don't know. She's in the ER now.”
“You need me to drive you?”
“It's fine. This is a family thing. I need to go alone.”
“You can't drive in your condition; you're shaking. I don't want you to be alone. I'll drive you.” Opening the door, he asked, “Do you need me to carry you to the car?”
I shook my head and passed through the doorway. Words took up more energy than I had available, and something told me that every bit of it was crucial tonight.
22
S
itting in the waiting room, I anticipated the doctor or my father appearing around the corner.
itting in the waiting room, I anticipated the doctor or my father appearing around the corner.
I had never felt so helpless in my life, and the nurse at the front desk just made things worse. I practically had to pass a lie-detector test to prove I was family, and she kept going on about insurance cards. Thank goodness Caleb was there; otherwise, I would've ripped that woman bald.
On that rare occasion when a doctor crossed my path, he explained the extent of the damage. Though a rare malady, a similar case a few weeks back allowed the doctor to diagnose Mom quickly. Mom endured something called stress cardiomyopathy, or “broken-heart syndrome,” a type of shock caused by psychological or emotional trauma. The overwhelming stress released a heavy amount of adrenaline and other chemicals into her bloodstream. The toxic overdose weakened her heart muscles, creating symptoms similar to a heart attack.
The doctor said that they were able to regulate her heartbeat and raise her blood pressure, along with a great deal of technical terms I had difficulty translating. But the word “observation” caught my attention. That meant she wasn't out of the woods.
Caleb was a gem, not leaving my side for a second, always touching in case I forgot he was there. I needed the constant reminder, if anything, to redirect my thoughts from every worst-case scenario.
Dad finally showed up, looking like a warm place to rest. I reluctantly left Caleb in the waiting area to talk to Dad in private. Away from prying nurses and comatose patients, Dad pulled me into his arms so tight I thought my limbs would break.
He kissed my head and whispered words of support. “Your mother's gonna be all right.”
“I hope so.”
He looked down at me. “Where's your faith, baby girl?”
“I think I left it in the car.”
“You can borrow some of mine.” We walked back toward the waiting room when Dad spied Caleb standing against the wall. “Why is that boy looking at you?”
I turned to where he pointed and smiled. “That's my boyfriend, Caleb.”
“Boyfriend?” Dad looked at me as though I sprouted an extra head. “When did this happen?”
“We've been talking for a while. It's only been made official recently.”
Dad let out a low groan. “Samara, you know how I feel about boys.”
“I know, but Mom's cool with it.”
Dad blinked. “She is?”
I nodded.
“No criminal background check, no blood test?”
“No. He just talked to her, and she likes him.” I smiled weakly.
Dad shot Caleb the death glare before saying, “Well, now's not the time for interrogations, so I'll hold off. You want anything from the cafeteria?”
“No, go on. I'll call you if something happens.”
After another bear hug, Dad retreated to the elevators.
Caleb met me halfway, and I allowed him to lead me back to my seat.
While I waited for the doctor to walk in with updates, several questions replayed in my head like a broken record. What was Mom doing to cause a heart attack? Where was the guy she was seeing? Why was everyone having heart issues, physical and emotional?
I lifted my head and looked to Caleb. “I need you to be honest with me.”
He waited.
“Are there any more like you in Williamsburg? I mean besides Nadine?”
“Not that I know of.”
Running down the Cambion roll call, I asked, “Is your brother around?”
“No. As far as I know he flew back to Dublin the night he came to see me.”
Satisfied, if only marginally, I returned to my stupor.
“I thought the same thing too. Your mom is pretty young to have a heart attack. She doesn't have any weird medical history, does she?”
“No. There might be something on her parents' side, but nothing I'm aware of.”
He rubbed my back. “I think she'll be fine. The doctor says she's stable.”
“What do doctors know?”
His hands caressed the back of my neck. “A lot more than you do right now, so just relax until we hear more.”
My head whipped up. “It's easy for you to say. That's not your mother in there fighting for her life.” The words left my mouth before I could catch myself.
If he was offended, he gave no evidence of it.
“I've been where you are,” he began, his voice even and calm. “Every memory you have is flashing in your headâbirthdays, holidays, little things about themâtheir laugh, the way they smelled. Every skinned knee, every case of the flu, every loose tooth you tucked under your bed. It all rushes in front of your eyes.
“What makes it worse is when it collides with the self-deprecating sense of regret. You replay the last conversation in your head. Everything you wish you could've said, or done; a few more âI love yous' here and there might've made the loss easier. âIf I were a better kid, I would have saved them grief.'
“Every thought causes a new ache, a pain that is so distinct, it's physical and inclusive. Then it reaches a point where you feel nothing else. You lose sight on whether you're really alive, and whether you even care. I think that narrows it down. If anyone knows what you're going through, it's me.”
Scum of the earth
was not an adequate description of how I felt. My body shrank into the chair as I covered my eyes with a trembling hand. I couldn't look at him; I didn't have the right. “I'm so sorry, Caleb. I didn't meanâ”
was not an adequate description of how I felt. My body shrank into the chair as I covered my eyes with a trembling hand. I couldn't look at him; I didn't have the right. “I'm so sorry, Caleb. I didn't meanâ”
He gently pulled my hand from my face, kissed my wrist, then climbed to his feet. “I'm going to the vending machine. Do you need anything?”
“No.”
“You sure? You need something in your stomach. I can swing by the cafeteria.”
“No thanks. I'll probably throw it up anyway.”
“All right, I'll be back in a minute.” He squeezed my shoulder, then made his way down the hall.
I let Caleb's words sink in. He had nailed it right on the head. Memories, good and bad, drifted in a sea of “what ifs” with no sight of land.
The voice of a man talking to the nurse at the desk came in and out of my audible range. When he said my mom's name, I leapt up from my seat. Nearing the desk, I looked him up and down, trying to figure out how he knew Mom.
His age played up mature sophistication, and his casual, expensive suit was as cosmopolitan as he was. His large hands raked through his short, salt-and-pepper hair. When I reached the desk, he looked in my direction. The second he locked eyes on me, his expression changed. Deep blue eyes peered behind tinted specs and assessed the lines and bends of my features. Donning a confident smile, he approached me. “You must be Samara.”
The sound of my name on his lips made my insides tingle. The feeling only got worse when he took my hand. “My name is Nathan Ross. Julie told me so much about you.”
I hesitated a moment, willing the fluttering in my stomach to stop. “How do you know my mother?”
“Your mother and I have been corresponding for about a week now. We went out for drinks tonight when she collapsed. I was the one who brought her here. I left a while ago to get some air, but I had to come back and check on her.”
“You're my mom's date?” I gave him another once-over. Mom had good taste. The guy looked as though he had stepped out of
Gentleman's Quarterly
. And that voice. It was an R & B slow jam waiting to happen.
Gentleman's Quarterly
. And that voice. It was an R & B slow jam waiting to happen.
“This kind lady informed me that your mother had an issue with her heart, and she's currently stabilized.” He gave the blushing nurse a smile.
I glared at the woman behind the desk. I'd had to go through a retina scan and full cavity search to get my mother's room number, and this dude had details on the medical procedure. But then again, he could steal Pentagon secrets with that smile alone.
His warm hand rested on my shoulder. “I can't tell you how sorry I am.”
“Thanks. I appreciate you sticking around.”
“No problemâ” was all he could say before Caleb's voice rang behind me.
I heard his footsteps approach as he called my name, but it took me a moment to understand why he'd asked Mr. Ross why he was there.
And why on earth Caleb called him “Dad.”
23
“I
asked you a question. What are you doing here?”
asked you a question. What are you doing here?”
Caleb stepped between us and pushed me behind him. “Did you have something to do with this?”
Mr. Ross shoved his hands in his pockets. “Good to see you too, son.”
“Did you hurt Ms. Marshall?”
Mr. Ross blinked in surprise. “Why would you think that?”
“I don't know, you tell me.” His tone, brusque and uneven, ground out each syllable as though speaking with proper inflection would invoke an unholy curse. Every muscle in Caleb's body tightened against me.
“I'm simply checking on a friend,” Mr. Ross explained in complete innocence.
“A friend, huh? How exactly do you know Samara's mom? Did you draw her to you?”
“You know how women are around me. I couldn't help it even if I tried, and Julie and I happened to be at the right place at the right time. I'm sure you know how these things work. Speaking of which ...” Mr. Ross looked around Caleb's blockade to face me. “Samara, how do you know my son? Has he bewitched you with his charm?”
When I tried to step around Caleb, he trapped me behind the solid wall of his back. The tense undertone of the exchange revealed that Mr. Ross's looks had deceived more than just me. There was some serious evil afoot, which proved reason enough to keep my distance.
“You stay away from her,” Caleb ordered. “And stay away from her mother.”
“Am I bothering you, Samara?” Mr. Ross asked, ignoring his son's warning.
Finding my voice, I managed to choke out, “No, but your demon is.”
My words, driven by hate, hit their mark, leaving Mr. Ross stunned. He removed his tinted glasses and revealed that familiar shade of purple that I knew too well. His stare moved from my face to Caleb's in an attitude of defiance. “You two are closer than I thought. No wonder you've been preoccupied.”
“Why are you really in Virginia? How did you find me?” Caleb demanded.
“You make it seem like a crime to keep tabs on my youngest child. It wasn't easy to track you, I'll give you that. You really know how to shut yourself down. Not very healthy, son. You can't deny who you are. You are a part of a whole, and you must return to the source at some point. I told you if you didn't come to me, I would come to you. I'm sure Haden told you that when he came here.”
Caleb stiffened. “What did you do to him?”
“Well, what do you know? You still care about your family. Haden's someplace safe, taking a nice long nap.” When Caleb prepared to lunge, he added, “Oh, don't worry, he's fine, but I couldn't let him tell you I was here. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
Caleb closed in on his father, their faces barely an inch apart. “I'm only gonna say this one more time. Leave, and keep away from Sam and her mother.”
“If you insist, I won't go near them, but I can't guarantee
they
will stay away from
me
.”
they
will stay away from
me
.”
Backing away, Mr. Ross gave me a wink, doling out that same devilish grin that was Caleb's trademark. He owned the same expressions, the same penetrating stare. It was like a peek into Caleb's future.
The stiffness in his right leg gave him a slight limp, but had little effect on his determined stride. In fact, it made it more dangerous. I turned to Caleb, who leaned against the wall, taking long, therapeutic breaths. “What the hell just happened?”
“The shit hit the fan,” he replied with eyes closed.
“What is your dad doing here?”
“I didn't expect him either. I wasn't ready for this.” He lifted his head to the ceiling. “I need to find Haden. If he's still in town, I need to see if he's all right.”
“Would your father really kill his own son?” I asked.
“Kill, no. Hurt, yes. We're all connected, an extension of dad's spirit, and it won't destroy itself. We can sense each other's presence.”
“Then why didn't you know he was in town? Couldn't you feel him nearby?”
“No. I've severed the ties and kept my distance for too long.”
I took a step back, quickly losing my balance and what was left of my patience. The traffic in my head stood in gridlock and my nerve endings crackled with the need to inflict harm. Pushing out a long-suffering breath, I said, “I think you should go.”
Blazing light shot from his eyes as they met mine. “You know I can't leave you alone now.”
“I'm fine. I have my family here.”
He didn't seem convinced. “Is that what you want?”
“No. What I
want
is the truth from youâall of it. No riddles, no subtle innuendos, no ominous pauses. I've respected your privacy and given you time to open up, but this shit is leaking into my world, and I'll be damned if my mom gets killed over what you're
not
telling me.” Lowering my voice, I continued. “I know you weren't directly involved, but I'll only take it out on you. So please, just go.”
want
is the truth from youâall of it. No riddles, no subtle innuendos, no ominous pauses. I've respected your privacy and given you time to open up, but this shit is leaking into my world, and I'll be damned if my mom gets killed over what you're
not
telling me.” Lowering my voice, I continued. “I know you weren't directly involved, but I'll only take it out on you. So please, just go.”
He sucked in air through his teeth. It made a hissing sound in reaction to some invisible sting. Whether it was my words, the sight of his estranged father, or the totality of the evening, I wasn't sure, but he seemed to age before my eyes. When the worst of it was over, he pushed off the wall. “All right, I need to call my brothers and Nadine.”
I tilted my head. “Nadine?”
“Yeah. I'm gonna need all the help I can get now.” Holding my shoulders, he stared into my eyes. “Do me a huge favor. Stay with your dad. Go home with him, keep him nearby, and don't go to your house alone, okay? Tell one of the nurses what's going on and that they're not to allow any unauthorized visitors near your mother's room.”
Was he serious? “They won't even let
me
in.”
me
in.”
His brows furrowed in thought. “If they put security on the floor, it should scare him off. I'll call the police, not that they can do anything.”
My chest throbbed from my heart trying to punch its way free. “You're scaring me.”
“Good. Then you'll do what I say. Please?” His face was a mask of determination, refusing to take no for an answer.
“Will you call me if anything happens?”
He nodded and tucked his hand under my chin. “Be careful.” He walked away and whipped out his cell phone, rushing by Dad before he could stop him.
When Dad reached my side, he asked, “Where's the fire?”
“Family emergency. He couldn't help it.”
He harrumphed. “You sure he wasn't ducking out on me?”
“No. Something came up.” Moving back to the sitting area, I sat next to Dad and tucked my head in his chest. My whole body trembled as the tears stained my cheeks, each drop bleeding the life from me. Strong arms wrapped around me and rocked me back and forth.
“It's all right, baby girl. Everything will be all right,” he assured, rubbing my back in slow circles.
Dad was a great lawyer. He had a way with people and could talk his way out of anything. Such conviction and gentle persuasion almost made me believe his words.
Almost.
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