One Wish In Manhattan (A Christmas Story) (36 page)

O
liver watched Hayley sleeping
. Flat on her back, mouth open, gentle noises coming from her nose, her now shorter brown hair a shaggy, yet attractive, mess on the pillow. He couldn’t believe she was still here, still with him. Knowing everything now. She was right. He’d ignored the test for far too long. If, in his heart, he already knew the outcome, there was nothing to lose. And Hayley needed this. Until she saw it for herself, on a report, she’d still be holding out for that Christmas miracle. If they were going to be together then she needed definite clarification about what she’d signed up for. He’d arranged the hospital appointment. Today.

He reached out to her, weaving his fingers into her hair, then softly moving strands from her face. Whatever the outcome he wasn’t going to run from his future anymore. Living every moment didn’t mean only embracing frivolity. It was focussing on what mattered.
Who
mattered.

Hayley smiled, her eyes remaining closed. ‘What’s for breakfast?’

‘Anything you want,’ he whispered.

‘Anything?’

‘But don’t you have a meeting with my mom at the Crystalline?’

Hayley’s eyes sprung open then. ‘What time is it?’ She sat up, looking for the bedside clock.

‘It’s a little before eight.’

Hayley threw off the duvet. ‘I have to get up. I have to go. Dean has work and I need to get Angel and I wanted to call the woman about the flowers and …’ She made to spring from the bed but he held her down.

‘I hear Dean has a very understanding boss.’

‘Who now knows the name of every member of staff thanks to flash cards.’

‘It’s all about the team.’

‘I know. And that’s why I have to get up.’

‘Stop,’ he ordered, moving over her. ‘Take a breath.’

‘I don’t have time to take a breath. If I waste time taking a breath there won’t be time for coffee.’ She batted her eyelids. ‘Make me coffee?’

‘When you’ve said a proper good morning.’

He looked down at her, waiting for the flicker of understanding to reach her expression. He held himself over her, pausing for her reaction.

‘I thought I spent quite a lot of time last night saying goodnight,’ she responded, grinning.

‘It was the best goodnight I’ve ever had.’

‘I don’t know if I have the energy for good morning too.’ She stretched her body upwards, leaning forward and clasping her arms around his neck, pulling him into her.

‘You could skip coffee,’ he suggested, kissing her lips.

‘Hydration is important,’ she said, dropping the lightest kiss on his mouth.

‘It’s minus five out there not a thirty degree heat wave.’

‘I’ll be late for your mum.’

‘Blame me.’

He kissed her hard, pushing her back against the sheets until she gave in, matching his passion with her own, her hands reaching over his shoulders, her fingers tracing the contours of his back.

She pulled away and looked at him with suspicion in her eyes. ‘What’s going on?’

‘What?’ he asked.

‘How come you have all this time on your hands? Don’t you need to be sorting out the Regis Software mess and dealing with the firing-the-traitor debacle and protecting the Globe like you have been the rest of the week?’

‘Not this morning.’ He swallowed.

‘You have the morning off?’

‘Not exactly.’ He sighed and shifted his weight from her, turning back to the other side of the bed. He was going to tell her. Of course he was going to tell her. He just knew as soon as he did it would be the only thing she was focussing on.

‘Well? You have to tell me.’

He settled himself back on the pillows, dragging the duvet up his body a little self-consciously. He let out a sigh as the seriousness of what he was going to do today hit him hard. ‘I’m going to the hospital.’

The air thickened and the seconds seemed to pass by so slowly. Finally she spoke.

‘Don’t you mean
we
are going to the hospital? Because I’m taking a guess you’re not going for a tetanus shot.’

‘No,’ he said, nodding.

‘Then I’m coming with you.’ She moved in the bed, shifting onto her knees so she was facing him.

‘You don’t have to do that. I said I was going to take the test and I am.’

Hayley laughed then. ‘You think the only reason I want to come is to make sure you go through with it?’ She thumped his arm with her knuckles. ‘I want to support you. I want to find out. I want to be there when you get the results.’

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘That’s kind of the reason I wanted to go alone.’

‘Well, that makes no sense unless you’re going to run for the hills and say we’re over.’ She frowned at him. ‘Is that what you were going to do?’

He shook his head. ‘No, of course not.’

‘Then I’m coming with you.’ She slipped out of bed, grabbed Oliver’s Knicks T-shirt and pulled it over her head. ‘What time is the appointment?’

‘Eleven thirty.’

‘Good. I’ll grab Angel, I’ll meet with your mum and I’ll meet you at the hospital.’ She padded towards the kitchen on bare feet. ‘Same hospital where you were mean and cruel and I swore I was never going to forgive you?’

‘Yeah, St Patrick’s. What are you doing?’ he called, watching her.

She turned back to face him. ‘Making sure we’re both hydrated. Do you have any bacon?’

He smiled, pulling the duvet up around him. Just what had he done to deserve this woman?

‘Is that eggs I can smell? Because I haven’t had eggs this morning and …’ Hayley burst through into the kitchen but stopped talking at the sight of Michel by the hob, Angel at his side. ‘Oh, hello. Where’s Dean?’

‘Hi, Mum. We’re making eggy bread.’

Michel turned to face her. ‘He had to go to work early.’

‘Oh, well he didn’t ring me.’

‘He said he did call but you didn’t answer. Angel, you hold this very carefully, it is very hot,’ Michel instructed, passing the fish slice to her.

Hayley delved into her rucksack for her iPhone. There were five missed calls. She checked the side. It was switched to silent.

‘So, Dean called you?’ Hayley asked.

Michel shook his head. ‘I came here to speak to you. I wanted to take Angel to another gallery. Dean said you were not here, he needed to go for work, I offered to come to be with Angel until you got here.’

Hayley let out a sigh and put her bag down on the breakfast bar. She needed to stop being so suspicious of everyone’s motives with Angel. Michel was her father and for the past few days he had been a walking, talking vision of what a good dad should be. He hadn’t pushed or raised expectations or made any promises he hadn’t kept. It was going well. He was a good man doing his very best with this new situation and perhaps she ought to give him more credit for that.

‘Everything is OK?’ Michel asked, coming over to her.

‘Yes … sorry.’ She swallowed. ‘It’s just all this is very new and very different and so much is going on at the moment.’

‘I understand. I feel the same way.’

‘The edges are going brown,’ Angel called.

‘That is OK,’ Michel said. ‘Just move the bread gently with the spatula.’

‘I hope there’s enough for me,’ Hayley called. ‘But I’ll have to eat it on the run.’

‘You are busy today?’ Michel asked.

‘Yes, the McArthur Foundation fundraiser is tomorrow night and I have a tonne of things to do for that and I also … need to be somewhere at eleven thirty.’

‘I will have Angel,’ Michel said.

‘Oh no, Michel, you don’t have to do that. I can take Angel with me and …’

‘This is stupid. I want to take her to the gallery. I wish to show her some of my work. I can do this. I can take her for lunch. We can visit the Museum of Modern Art maybe?’

Hayley nodded. She needed to let go. She knew that. And Michel had this. But it was harder than she had ever thought. Being solely in charge for so long it was still so difficult to pass over some of the responsibility.

‘I love to spend time with her, Hayley,’ Michel said quietly, his attention turning to Angel. ‘I have missed out on all these years before.’

‘I know,’ she whispered, feeling a pang of guilt take hold.

‘And when you go home, I want to make arrangements to visit. I can come to England or you could come here.’ He let out a sigh. ‘I do not want to lose this connection now.’

‘Going darker brown now!’ Angel shouted.

‘I will come,’ Michel called back. He gave his attention back to Hayley. ‘You are her mother. You are the one calling the shots, of course. I just wish to have some more time with her in the future. If you are happy with that.’

‘Michel!’ Angel screamed. ‘There are black bits!’

Hayley looked at him. ‘We will work something out.’

He smiled. ‘Good. Now, you will take this eggy bread and you will go to your meetings. Angel and I will be fine.’

‘Dad!’ Angel yelled. ‘It’s burning!’

A lump shot up into Hayley’s throat at the way Angel had addressed him. She looked to Michel and saw an expression nothing short of pure elation. She reached out, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it in hers. ‘We will work something out.’

‘
P
latinum
and gold not silver
! Yes, there really is a difference and it’s one I explained to you when we met, Mr Viceroy.’ Hayley paced the ballroom floor as she spoke into the phone. ‘Can you get me one hundred and fifty
platinum
balloons and one hundred and fifty gold-coloured balloons by tomorrow afternoon? No? Well, that’s great. Thank you so much for that excellent service.’ She ended the call and let out a scream that had everyone working in the room reaching for their ears.

She dragged her hands through her hair and bent over, her hands on her knees, her breathing jagged.

‘A problem?’ Cynthia asked, appearing at her side.

Hayley pulled herself up and fixed a smile on her face. ‘No, no of course not. No problem at all.’ She had to get this right, especially now. She didn’t want Cynthia to think she was incapable in a professional or personal capacity.

‘Hayley, I’m here to help.’

‘Yes, I know, but this is my project and you’re paying me very well to manage it, so manage it I will.’ She let out a breath that could have filled three hundred balloons then looked at her watch.

‘Is everything all right?’ Cynthia said, still observing her.

Did Cynthia know about the test? Maybe Oliver had called her or, more likely, he hadn’t wanted to worry her. She swallowed, not wanting to bear the weight of a secret. ‘Oliver’s having the test today.’ She blurted it out before there was any going back.

Cynthia remained virtually impassive but Hayley could see her bottom lip was quivering and there were the beginnings of tears in her eyes as the words took effect.

‘He wanted to go on his own but I wouldn’t let him,’ Hayley continued. ‘It’s at eleven thirty.’

Cynthia nodded. ‘And there’s no way either of us are going to stay away.’

Hayley smiled at the woman. ‘Good. Well, I’ll fix us up with some alternative balloons and then we’ll go.’

‘We’ll stop for coffee on the way. That cardiac unit stuff is like engine oil,’ Cynthia said, patting Hayley’s arm. She smiled. ‘Thank you, Hayley.’

‘I’m sure he would have told you. I just …’

Cynthia shook her head. ‘No. Thank you for getting him to do this.’ She paused. ‘You’re the reason he’s doing it and I’m so glad.’

The atmosphere was thick with emotion and Hayley could feel the tears pricking at her eyes. She cleared her throat and quickly moved back to the middle of the ballroom, looking at the stage. The logo she’d designed for the event was being displayed on the big screen and the turquoise-coloured globes containing warm yellow lights hung from wires right across the length of it. The theme she’d gone for was classic with a homely twist. The room was going to be full of understated exuberance but also stuffed with touches relating to supporters of the foundation who had lost a member of their family or were living with life-altering issues.

‘It looks wonderful,’ Cynthia told her. ‘And it’s going to be very special.’

‘You like it?’

‘Like it? I love it!’ She clapped her hands together. ‘This is exactly how you changed my home that day. That’s why I knew I had to have you for this project.’

Hayley looked at her handiwork, delighting in the way she and the team of people helping her had pulled this together. ‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’

‘Would you like to do it again?’

‘You have another event?’ Hayley asked. Excitement was already bubbling through her core at the very thought of it.

‘Not me. Not yet anyway. But when I drop your name into every conversation I have tomorrow night, you’re going to be a woman in high demand,’ Cynthia told her.

What was Cynthia saying? That she could have an employment future here? In New York? There was no doubt this project had given her her spark back. She may have abandoned the Guggenheim dress in her ideas book but now the pages were packed full of sketches and templates, table settings, swatches of colours. The thought of doing that all over again for something else, another blank canvas to fill with plans and ideas, was more than she could imagine. She swallowed. The reality was she didn’t live here and the date on the ticket home was drawing ever closer.

‘I don’t know about that. And … I leave next week.’

‘Do you?’

Hayley turned at the questioning tone, catching Cynthia’s gaze. ‘Yes. I mean I live in England.’

Cynthia nodded then let out a light breath. ‘I guess I was hoping you might stay. Because of Oliver.’

At the mention of his name Hayley’s cheeks gave away every feeling she had. She didn’t want to leave him.

‘I have Angel to think about. There’s her school and her friends and … my mother.’

She swallowed. Another text had arrived earlier.
I never realised how you felt.
A band of guilt began to tighten in her stomach. She hadn’t replied because she didn’t know how to. That sentence contained more emotion than she’d felt from her mother for years.

‘I shouldn’t have said anything. Forgive me.’ Cynthia said, patting her shoulder. ‘I just see how happy you’re making my son and how much he’s like the old Oliver right now. I don’t want that to disappear if you go.’ She smiled. ‘And I’ll miss you too. And that dear girl of yours.’

‘I’ll miss you too.’ Her voice cracked slightly as the nearness of her departure became all too apparent. She couldn’t dwell on it yet. She had to concentrate on the fundraiser. Even if she didn’t manage to source the balloons, everything else was coming together. It was going to be a night to remember. She just had to persuade Oliver to be the speaker. Then it would be perfect.

A phone began to ring and Cynthia slipped a hand into her pocket to answer it. ‘Cynthia Drummond … oh my God! Have they said anything? Do they know anything?’

Hayley turned back to Cynthia, the woman’s anxiety prevalent.

‘We’ll be there.’ Cynthia ended the call, tears forming in her eyes.

‘What is it?’ Hayley asked. ‘What’s happened?’

‘It’s Oliver. He’s collapsed. He’s at the hospital,’ Cynthia informed.

Hayley didn’t need to hear anything else. She grabbed hold of Cynthia’s hand and ran for the ballroom doors.

The traffic had almost been on lockdown because of the rising snow on the streets and it had taken them twenty-five minutes to get across the city. When they arrived in the emergency room, Clara was sat in a chair in the waiting area just in front a row of cubicles all with their curtains closed. The woman looked pale and concerned and was toying with the diamantes on her necklace.

‘Clara,’ Cynthia greeted, as they rushed up. ‘Where is he? Have they said anything?’

‘Hello! Is there a doctor around here! We need a doctor! Where is Oliver Drummond?’ Hayley called, starting to part curtains and walk into cubicles.

‘It all happened so fast,’ Clara started. ‘One moment we were talking about Andrew … well, Regis Software and the next he just went down on the floor.’ Clara wiped at her eyes with a tissue. ‘But it wasn’t like the last time. This time he looked so pale, he was sweating, his breathing was shallow …’

‘The last time?’ Cynthia asked.

‘Hello! Please, can someone tell us something? You!’ Hayley said, grabbing the arm of a nurse.

‘What seems to be the problem, ma’am?’

‘It was a couple of weeks ago,’ Clara said. ‘We came here and the doctor diagnosed stress causing hyperventilation.’

‘He collapsed on me too,’ Hayley added before turning to the nurse. ‘Listen, we’re the family of Oliver Drummond. He was brought in less than an hour ago by ambulance …’ She looked to Clara for confirmation. ‘We want to know what’s going on.’

‘Just give me a second and I will try to find out for you,’ the nurse said.

‘Sit down, Hayley,’ Cynthia ordered.

‘I can’t. We don’t know what’s happening. If I knew what was happening I might feel a bit better, but he could be … he could be …’ She stopped talking when the enormity of what she’d been thinking got the better of her. This was her fault. This was because of the test. She had pushed it and he was worried about it and now … there might not even get to be a test. The tears were dripping from her eyes already.

‘Take it from someone who’s spent a lot of time in these places.’ Cynthia dropped to the chair beside Clara. ‘They need to be looking after him not us.’

Hayley began pacing. ‘I need to do something. Shall I get coffee?’

Both women looked at her like she was crazy.

‘Yeah, I know it’s meant to be bad but …’

A female doctor approached them, a clipboard in her hand. ‘You are here for Oliver Drummond?’

‘Yes. Yes we are,’ Hayley stated.

‘I’m Doctor Khan.’

‘How is he?’ Cynthia asked as she got to her feet.

‘He’s resting,’ Dr Khan answered.

‘What does that mean exactly?’ Hayley blurted out. ‘Asleep? Unconscious?’

‘Was it a heart attack?’ Cynthia added.

‘He isn’t unconscious,’ the doctor reassured. ‘And he hasn’t had a heart attack.’

Hayley couldn’t help herself. She grabbed Cynthia’s arm and squeezed. ‘He’s going to be OK. I knew it.’

‘What happened to him?’ Cynthia asked, putting her hand over Hayley’s.

Clara got to her feet. ‘It was another panic attack, wasn’t it? Hyperventilation,’ she stated. ‘Like the last time.’

Doctor Khan smiled. ‘You can see him now, but one at a time. He’s a little dehydrated.’

‘I told him about that this morning,’ Hayley said, shaking her head.

H
e felt like an idiot
. All this fuss again for nothing more than … He didn’t even want to think the words
panic attack
. It still made him feel like he was a teenager, afraid to speak in public, worrying about exams or asking a girl to the prom. It wasn’t supposed to be in the make-up of a head of industry.

‘Knock, knock.’ Hayley’s head appeared around the curtain. ‘My turn now. How’s the patient?’

‘Not patient at all. I hate hospitals.’

‘Me too. Full of ill people like you.’ She sat on the side of his bed. ‘You dressed under there?’

‘If I’m not?’ he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

‘You are too sick to be making lewd suggestions.’

‘You’ve not spoken to Doctor Khan yet then?’

‘She may have mentioned the words “stress” and “panic”. You don’t have to worry, if it affects your libido we can deal with it together.’ Hayley patted his hand.

‘Is that supposed to be funny? I’m in here, perspiring and struggling to breathe. Kick a man while he’s down why don’t you?’

She slipped her fingers in between his then. ‘You know I didn’t mean it.’

‘I know you did.’ He smiled but let a sigh pass from his lips. ‘I don’t want to keep doing this. Because every time it happens I think …’

‘You’re going to die,’ Hayley finished.

‘You got it.’

‘You work too hard. And you’ve coiled things up inside for so long you’re tighter than … I don’t know … tighter than a Botoxed actress.’

‘I’m not sure how I feel about that.’

‘You need to do this test and then you need a break, whatever the outcome.’ Hayley smiled. ‘I can think of a few things to occupy your time, Clark.’ She walked her fingers up his bare chest.

‘I bet you can.’

Someone cleared their throat and Hayley yanked her hand away and turned her head to greet Cynthia.

‘Sorry,’ Hayley said, slipping off the bed.

‘Oliver, the doctor from the cardiac unit is going to come here to see you. For the tests,’ Cynthia spoke. ‘But, he said you don’t have to do this today if you’re not feeling up to it.’

Oliver shook his head. ‘No. I want to do it, Mom. Whatever happens, I can’t be in limbo anymore. Tell them I’m ready, Mom.’