Scandal With a Prince (36 page)

The nurse directed Megan to a seat in the waiting area.
 
“When a child presents with a fever as high as your daughter’s we admit them as a matter of policy.
 
We’ll get her situated, then you can join her.”

Minutes felt like hours as Megan answered the necessary questions and inked her signature on a slew of forms, hoping against hope that a doctor would come out from the emergency wing to let her know that Anna had nothing more than a high fever and that they would soon get it under control.
 
That the admission was nothing more than a precaution and Anna would be back to her normal, bouncy self soon.

No one came.
 

Megan clutched the clipboard in her lap and stared at the doors leading to the patient evaluation area.
 
At long last, the same nurse who’d given her the paperwork came to collect it and waved Megan into a side room.
 
As the older woman flipped through the pages on the clipboard, Megan asked, “Will I be able to see my daughter soon?
 
It’s been quite a while.”
 

“The doctor will come in to speak with you in just a moment,” the nurse said before ducking into the hallway and shutting the door behind her.
 

Megan sucked in air through her nostrils, willing herself to keep her composure despite the fact the nurse hadn’t met her gaze, and despite the fact the woman moved her into a private room to speak with the doctor rather than ushering her into the area where Anna was being seen.
 
In her experience, medical professionals were far more likely to be honest and give you the full picture when they knew you could handle the information.
 
And now, more than ever, she needed information.
 
For Anna’s sake, she had to appear calm.

“Ms. Hallberg?
 
I am Dr. Serrano.”

She looked up to see a middle-aged, olive-skinned man with a serious, though thankfully not grim, demeanor.
 
Forcing herself to keep an even tone, she said, “Yes. Please, call me Megan.
 
You’ve seen Anna?”
 

“Yes.”
 
He closed the door before pulling a rolling stool from one corner so he could sit facing her.
 
“I am afraid my accent is difficult for some to understand, so if my English does not make sense to you, please tell me.
 
I can call the nurse back in to translate.”

She forced a smile.
 
Thank goodness she was used to Catalan accents.
 
“Your English sounds fine to me.
 
Please, go ahead.”

He opened a file across his lap.
 
“Your daughter has a very high fever, which can be dangerous in anyone but especially in a child her age.
 
So” —he paused, as if searching his mind for the proper words— “I have given her medicine to help lower her fever and I asked for a test of her blood.
 
The nursing staff is doing this now and I asked for a quick processing from our lab.”

“All right.”
 
Though Megan had to concentrate to understand his words, there was a kindness and intelligence in his eyes that engendered trust.
 
“Is she awake?”

“No, but for now, she is stable.
 
Her fever is no worse than when she arrived.
 
However, I am very concerned about her neck stiffness, her headache and her” —again, he struggled for the word— “her confusion.
 
She was awake for a short time while I examined her, but she did not seem certain about where she is.
 
She had difficulty answering basic questions.
 
How long has she been this way?”

“Since about five, so a couple of hours now.
 
I heard her moaning in her bedroom and went to check on her.
 
I brought her here as soon as I took her temperature.”
 
She thought through everything Anna said since returning from the beach the previous afternoon.
 
“She was tired last night and didn’t want much dinner, but I assumed it was because we spent the morning walking through the marketplace, then she had a big lunch and spent the afternoon running around the beach with friends.
 
She told me she was pretty worn out.”

Dr. Serrano scribbled a note in Anna’s file.
 
“There was no confusion or fever when she returned from the beach?”

“She was a little warm and she did say she had a slight headache.
 
It wasn’t enough to worry me, and I didn’t bother to take her temperature.
 
Other than being more tired than usual, she seemed perfectly normal.
 
Definitely no confusion.”

“All right.
 
It is very good that you brought her in.”
 

Megan tried to remain patient as the doctor added more notes to Anna’s file.
 
Finally, he met her gaze.
 
“Unfortunately, I suspect that Anna has meningitis, which is an inflammation of the” —he pointed to the back of his neck— “membrane around the brain and spinal cord.
 
We must do a lumbar puncture to confirm the diagnosis and should have results shortly, but you will need to read and sign some forms first.
 
Are you familiar with meningitis?”

No, no, no,
her mind screamed, but she said, “Yes, I am.”
 

Children died from meningitis.
 
Anna could die.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Megan clenched her teeth against the thought and tried to focus on the doctor’s words.

“Do you know of anyone with meningitis?
 
Or with symptoms like Anna’s?
 
For instance, any of the friends she was with at the beach or any children from her school?
 
Maybe from a camp, if she is in summer camp?”

When Megan shook her head, he exhaled.
 
“Meningitis is very serious, yes?
 
But fast treatment can prevent complications.
 
This is why it is good you brought her here quickly.
 
I wish for you to let me know right away if you learn of others with symptoms.
 
They must get medical treatment immediately.”

“Of course.”

“I have a sheet with questions for you to answer.
 
It will help us find the cause of Anna’s illness and speed our treatment.”

He handed her the permission form for the lumbar puncture and the questionnaire, then went on to explain the course of antibiotics he was starting for Anna.
 
Thankfully, his English was solid whenever he spoke in medical terms.
 
“We are moving her into a room upstairs.
 
She will need more tests, including X-rays and a CAT scan, but I wish for her to be as comfortable as possible.
 
Do you live near the hospital?”

When Megan nodded, he urged her to go home and pack a bag once she’d completed the questionnaire.
 
He handed her another slip of paper.
 
“This will be her room.
 
It is on a pediatric floor.
 
Until we determine the cause of her illness, she will need to be in isolation.
 
However, there is a room beside hers that you can use.
 
It has a window so you can see all that is happening with her.
 
When she is awake and alert, she will be happy to see you there.”

“Thank you.”
 
Her eyes filled with tears, but she willed them back.
 
As frightened and upset as she was, it wouldn’t do Anna a bit of good to cry.
 
Not now.

Dr. Serrano’s voice lost its businesslike tone as he said, “I do not wish to be…to intrude…but I know this is very hard.
 
You may wish to call the father?
 
Or someone else?”

“Maybe.”
 
Should she call Stefano?
 
Her parents?
 
Or wait for more information?
 
“I don’t know.
 
Not yet.
 
It’s still very early in the morning.”

He nodded in understanding.
 
“Cell phones are not permitted inside the hospital, but you may use the phone at the nurse’s desk on the pediatric floor anytime you wish.
 
For now, Anna cannot have any visitors.
 
Only parents in the next room until we know more.”

Megan swallowed as the doctor stood.
 
She looked up at him and asked, “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Not at the moment.
 
The antibiotics must have time to work.”
 
Dr. Serrano put a hand on her arm for reassurance.
 
“This will be a matter of days or weeks, not hours.
 
Take care of yourself now so that you can be there for her when she is awake.
 
In the meantime, we will do everything we can for her.
 
I will let you know when results come from the lab.
 
I want you to ask questions if you have them, whenever you have them.”

“Thank you.
 
I will.”
 
She liked this man.
 
He seemed knowledgeable, caring, and—what she needed most right now—competent.
 
“I’m sure I’ll have plenty, I just…I need some time to absorb this.”
 

“Anna is a strong girl.
 
I am” —again, he seemed to struggle for the proper word— “optimistic.
 
So we will hope for good news.”

Once Dr. Serrano left, Megan bit her lip and forced herself to concentrate on the questionnaire.
 
It was extensive, covering where Anna had been, what she’d eaten, what immunizations she’d had.
 
After finishing, Megan handed it to the nurse and walked to the parking lot in a daze, realizing when she climbed into her car that her shoes didn’t match.
 
Not that it mattered.

The drive back to the hotel felt like an out-of-body experience, as if she were watching the rush hour traffic from afar rather than sitting in it, waiting for lights to change and cars to move.

Once in her suite, she packed a bag for herself in two minutes flat.
 

It wasn’t until she entered Anna’s empty bedroom and pulled her daughter’s backpack from the closet that Megan allowed a tear to roll down her cheek without attempting to blink it back.
 
She sat on the edge of Anna’s bed and looked around the room as she tried to think through what to bring to the hospital.
 
The bedsheets were askew and the room held the lingering scent of Anna’s favorite strawberry lotion.
 
A jeweled hairbrush rested on the room’s small desk beside a pile of ponytail holders and a shell Anna had found on the beach.
 

Set off by itself, carefully displayed beside her alarm clock, was the small leather bracelet Stefano bought Anna from the street kiosk during their first Saturday outing.
 

Another tear followed the first.
 
Then Megan couldn’t stop.

* * *

Stefano woke with a start to unfamiliar surroundings.
 
He blinked in the semi-darkness, attempting to separate the last vestiges of his dream from the reality around him.
 

Frequent business trips out of Sarcaccia meant he’d been in this situation before, lying on his back and taking few moments to figure out which city and hotel he was in and what was on his schedule for the day, but it’d never happened while wrapped in his own sheets, with the gray digital light of his own alarm clock beside the bed.
 

To his left, moonlight streamed in through wide, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Mediterranean.
 
City lights sparkled on hillsides that rose on either side of a softly lit marina, reminding him where he was.
 
He pushed to a sitting position and took in the familiar panorama of Cateri’s waterfront.
 
Though he’d been asleep less than an hour, he smiled to himself in the dark.
 

New apartment
.
 
A new start.
 
He’d brought only the essentials from the palace, limiting himself to toiletries, linens, a few days’ worth of clothes, and his computer.
 
He’d ordered a few basic pieces of furniture rather than peruse the selection in the palace’s storage rooms, craving modernity over the centuries-old antiques with which he’d been raised.
 

Beautiful though it was, the spacious apartment wasn’t his ideal.
 
He’d much rather wake to find Megan beside him.
 
But if he couldn’t have her, at least he could have the gift she had given him—normalcy—and embrace it.
 
It might take awhile for the people of Sarcaccia to accept that he lived outside the palace, perhaps longer for the paparazzi to get bored as they watched him come and go each day and decide they were better off covering other stories, but he knew in his gut this was where he wanted to be.
 
In the new section of the city, rather than the medieval section his ancestors had settled, in an apartment any of his friends might own—all right, larger than most of his friends might own, since he’d purchased the entire top floor of the building—within walking distance of shops, cafes, art galleries, and the waterfront, rather than the age-old palace.
 
He could even walk to the new convention center and the transportation hub currently under construction alongside it.