Prima Donna (24 page)

“Okay.” Tina nodded. “Cal and Wes will stay in the room, just in case, and no matter how this goes, Regan, I’m limiting it to fifteen minutes.”

“But—”

“No. We both know it might be over before you even get in the room, but if she stays as level as she’s been for the last several weeks, we don’t want to overdo it. Baby steps, okay?”

Regan nodded slowly.

“And because we don’t know how you’re going to be feeling when this is over, there are a couple things I need to go over with you before you go in.”

When Tina cast an uncertain glance at Carter, Regan just nodded.

“He pretty much knows everything, Tina, it’s fine.”

“Okay. I’m afraid it’s bad news on both counts.” Tina folded her hands on her desk and sighed. “The funding you applied for at the beginning of the year was denied.”

Regan snorted softly. “No shock there.”

“No,” Tina agreed. “But it’s going to make this next thing worse. The government, in all its wisdom, has decided that starting July first, they will only cover the cost of generic medications, and as you know, your mother’s system doesn’t tolerate the generic brand of her antipsychotic.”

Regan closed her eyes, exhaled slowly, then forced herself to look at Tina while she went on.

“So we have to decide what we want to do. We can either go through the process of finding her a different medication, something that—”

“No,” Regan said flatly. “Not after the last time.”

“I thought that’s what you’d say, and Dr. Kwan agrees, but our only other option is to keep her on the same medication, which means she would be responsible for the cost, and this particular one isn’t cheap.”

“I know. It’s fine.” Regan knew exactly how much each and every one of her mother’s prescriptions cost, and she also knew with the annual increases coming up at Hillcrest, her options were limited.

No, her options were nil. She couldn’t let her mother go through the torment of her doctors trying different cocktails on her again until they found another one that worked, and the only way to prevent that was to pay for her medication herself.

And the only way to do that would be to go work for Griffin Carr.

She could feel Carter watching her, but she knew if she so much as glanced his way, she’d turn into a weepy emotional mess and she didn’t have time for that.

Tina’s careful gaze slid to Carter then back to Regan before she nodded. “Okay, then let’s do this, shall we?”

Regan pushed to her feet and headed out of the office, but before she cleared the door frame, Carter’s fingers wound through hers, and with a gentle unassuming squeeze, gave her the strength she needed to keep walking.

They stopped outside the visitor’s room to let Tina go in first.

“Marlene? Regan’s here.”

“Regan who?”

Regan closed her eyes and inhaled slowly as Carter’s thumb moved over hers slowly, steadily.

“Your daughter,” Tina answered. “Remember I told you she was coming for a visit today?”

“Why? Why’s she here?”

“To see you.”

Marlene was in mid-grunt when Tina motioned for them to come in. Regan cleared her throat quietly and forced a smile as she stepped into the small room. Her mom’s hair, once as dark as night, was now almost completely gray and cut in a chin-length bob. She wore a pink-and-yellow
-striped housedress with a yellow cardigan and a pair of knitted slippers—the kind with the pompom on the heel—the kind that slipped on the linoleum as she tried to scramble back, as far away from Regan as she could get.

“She lets all the men fuck her.”

“Mom…” Regan took a step toward her, but Tina stayed her with a raised hand.

“We talked about this, Marlene, remember?” Tina’s smooth voice never wavered, never once let on that there was anything to be stressed about.

“She’s a whore! Dirty filthy slut.” Marlene continued to back up until she bumped into the far wall, where she cowered in the corner, shaking her finger straight back at Regan. “Full of their infected seed! Don’t touch me! Don’t—”

“It’s okay, Marlene,” Tina said calmly. “Why don’t we all sit down so Regan can visit with you for a minute?”

Regan lifted her foot to step forward, but the second she moved, her mother fell to the floor, her hands fisted over her ears, and screamed so loud, Regan stumbled back a step and crashed right into Carter, who hadn’t moved.

Cal and Wes, who’d been standing near the door the whole time, moved slowly into the room, each holding a hand out toward Marlene, whose screams continued to echo down the hall after Regan turned and walked straight back to the car.

Carter stayed right behind her the whole way, but before she could pull the door open, he pushed it shut again, wrapped his arms around her and just held on, his chest pressed tight against her back, his arms like a vice around her shoulders. She fought against it for a second, but he just tightened his hold until she finally gave in, twisted around, and buried her face against his chest.

She didn’t know how long they stood there with the rain drizzling down on them, but the only time he loosened his hold on her was when he pulled the sides of his coat open and wrapped them around her shaking body. Then he folded his arms around her again, holding her tight, safe against him, while she cried quietly.

He waited until she finally managed to control her breathing again before he spoke.

“I’m so sorry.” His low deep voice was like a caress against her soul. “I shouldn’t have gone in there. I—”

“It wasn’t you.” She stepped back, rubbed her hands over her face and shrugged. “That’s what always happens. I just sort of…when Tina said it was time to try again…I should have known better.”

“D’you want to go back in and talk to Tina?”

“No,” she said slowly. “She’ll be a while with Mom, and besides, there’s nothing she can say; it is what it is. Let’s just go.”

Carter didn’t look even a little bit convinced as he opened her door and helped her in.

“Want to go get a drink?” he asked.

“It’s not even lunchtime yet, Carter.”

“Not here maybe.” He started up the car, adjusted the heat, and then did the one thing she needed most right then; he shot her one of his cocky little half grins and winked. “But it’s five o’clock somewhere.”

Without even thinking, she leaned over the console and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

His face pinked a little, but he just shrugged off her thanks. “Is that a yes to the drink?”

“No,” she laughed, then blew out her breath in a long rush. “Just get me away from here so I can think about something else. Let’s go meet this barber of yours; I have visions of him looking a little like Christopher Walken and working out of the back of a strip joint.”

“Regan.”

“Don’t.” Swallowing hard, she managed to find what she hoped was a smile. “It’s better if we don’t talk about it yet, okay? Give me a couple minutes and I’ll be fine. Truly.”

She wasn’t fooling him one bit, but he didn’t push, and after a while, he sighed and chuckled quietly.

“My barber’s not a him, and trust me, it’s no strip joint.”

“So it’s a
her,
” Regan snorted. “Shocking.”

Traffic clogged every street they turned down, but Regan didn’t care; she was still trying to come to grips with the fact she’d not only let Carter go in with her, but he hadn’t batted an eye about doing it. Not only that, but he hadn’t flinched when her mother started screaming, and hadn’t even come close to giving her that freaked-out look she’d come to know so well.

While they waited at the next light, nervous laughter bubbled out of her before she could stop it.

“So I guess next time I go visit Mom, you’ll make sure your receptionist has you double-booked all day.”

She half expected him to grin back at her, or to make some smart-ass remark, but he didn’t. He just stared back at her with those dark eyes, so serious, so unwavering.

“I’ll fire her ass if she even tries,” he said quietly. “I’m in, Red. Every time.”

The light changed and he drove on, leaving Regan fighting to keep her tight smile in place. He took a right, then another, and pulled into an underground lot and parked in a spot marked “Reserved.”

“Is this it?” Regan frowned. “Where are we?”

Carter locked the car and used his keys to point to the small rectangular sign hanging from the ceiling.

st. mark’s hospital staff parking only

“I thought you were getting your hair cut.”

“I am.”

“But this is—” The rest of the words died on Regan’s tongue. “Oh my God, Carter. Seriously?”

She didn’t realize she’d stopped walking until he gripped her hand so tight her bones clicked, and pulled her toward the entrance.

The lobby was a wide-open space painted a neutral tan color with a bold green stripe across the width of each wall. Tidy, compact furniture, the same type you saw in every hospital and shopping mall across the country, circled a large round wooden table, which was covered in ripped magazines and crumpled sections of a newspaper. Off to the side was the child-friendly area, complete with bright plastic furniture, coloring books, and a wide flat-screen television that was presently keeping two little ones amused with an episode of
SpongeBob
.

They walked straight to the elevators, where a tall wooden thermometer hung on the wall, a red line measuring the twenty thousand dollars in donations they’d received. Apparently they were hoping to buy a new MRI machine, and while Regan had no idea how much one cost, she was pretty sure they had a ways to go.

On the third floor, Carter greeted all the nurses by name, but didn’t slow down until they got to room 308. It was then he finally released her hand and indicated with a simple gesture for her to wait near the door.

A twenty-something man sat in the recliner near the window, rubbing his thumb over a long-eared threadbare bunny in his hand. He pushed to his feet as they entered, his face pale, his smile weak, and shook Carter’s hand.

“It’s good of you to come,” he said. “She just went down to the Games Room to get set up.”

“Okay.” Carter’s voice was low and quiet as he crossed his arms over his chest. “How’re you doing?”

The man shrugged slowly. “She’s doing better every day.”

“Good, but that’s not what I asked.”

Another shrug. “I’m okay. Be better when we get her home.”

“Yeah.” Carter sighed and nodded slowly. “I know. Soon, right?”

“Couple days.” His face brightened a little. “She’s been fidgeting all morning waiting for you. Hope you haven’t grown too attached to your hair.”

“Nah. It always grows back, right?”

A knowing look passed between the men; an unspoken connection that seemed to go deeper than just a doctor-patient bond.

There were only two children in the Games Room when they arrived. A boy who looked to be about sixteen or so barely glanced away from the game controller, but he grinned broadly and tipped his chin up the way guys did.

“What’s up, Doc? Looking to get your ass kicked again?”

“Watch the language,” Carter warned. “And not today. I’ve got a date with Hazel.”

Decked out in a pale pink leotard with matching tutu and sparkling purple fairy wings, the little girl couldn’t have been more than four or five, with huge blue eyes and sparse white-blond wisps of hair that sprouted from her head like soft down feathers.

Carter’s words slammed into Regan’s heart like a freight train.
It always grows back.

“Hey, Haze.” He’d barely crouched down when the little sprite threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.

“I thought maybe you weren’t gonna come.”

“Are you kidding? And miss out on a date with my best girl?” Still crouched, he thumbed toward Regan and lowered his voice. “This is my friend Miss Burke. She’s the one who cut my hair before and I was hoping you could show her how it should be done.”

“Hi, Hazel. It’s very nice to meet you.” Regan crouched down, too, and smiled as the little girl walked around her, slowly dragging the tip of her finger over Regan’s hair, hanging loose down her back.

“You got pretty hair.”

“Thank you.”

“Daddy says I’m gonna have pretty hair again soon, too. See, it’s already comin’ back just like Doc Scott said it would.”

“It’s…” Regan fought to get the words past the lump in her throat. “It’s the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen.”

Channeling the most diva-esque of supermodels, Hazel flipped one of the gossamer strands behind her ear and flounced toward a small plastic green chair in the middle of the room.

“Come on, Doc Scott,” she said. “I got your chair ready.”

Carter lowered himself to the pint-sized chair and wrapped his arms around his legs to pull them in tight, leaving his knees jutting up almost to his chin. Hazel wound a giant paint-stained bath towel around his neck and pointed Regan to another chair, just as small, but several feet away.

“You can sit there, Miss Burt.”

“Oh, right. Thank you.” The lump in her throat could have been a knot of tears or a bubble of nervous hysterical laughter, she wasn’t sure which, and honestly, it could have just as easily gone either way.

Hazel twirled over to the craft cupboard and returned with a pair of snub-nosed children’s safety scissors. Dried chunks of clear glue clumped on the side of the blades and the handle, but that didn’t seem to matter. She just reached up, twisted a clump of Carter’s hair in her fingers and hacked it off.