When Hearts Collide (6 page)

“Gracie, finish eating. You need to get dressed.”

“Then we’ll go get Daddy,” Gracie announced.

“Well.” Molly’s jaw tightened. What should she tell the child?

“Yes. We have to get Daddy.” The child stamped her foot. “We have to get him now!”

Where was the child’s grandmother? Not that she looked like the most empathetic person to be looking after a child, but she was the girl’s grandmother.
And as soon as she gets here, I can be on my way.

Gracie tugged her T-shirt. “Molly Mommy.” The child cocked her head. “I want to see my daddy.”

The phone’s ringing startled Molly, and she raced to answer it. Finally, the grandmother was calling. About time.

“Mrs. Taylor?” a voice that wasn’t Mrs. Nesbitt asked.

Molly paused, hoping the lie wouldn’t be detected. “Yes.”

“This is Rita. I’m Mr. Taylor’s nurse.”

“Is he okay?” Molly’s breath caught in her throat and she felt liked she’d stepped into a frigid lake. Worst-case scenarios raced through her brain. Had Pearce died? Was he in a coma?

“He’s awake. The doctor has taken the breathing tube out.”

Molly sighed audibly.

“He’s demanding to see his daughter. He wants to know that she’s okay.” The line was silent for several seconds. “We told him you would bring her to the hospital. It was the only way we could get him to settle down.”

“Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Well, usually.” The voice paused. “But he’s threatening to leave. He can’t do that. The doctors want you to come. They want you to bring your daughter.”

“Did a woman come to see him?”

“Yeah, an older woman. Said she was his mother-in-law.” Molly heard the chill in the nurse’s voice. “For a few minutes. She upset him.” Her voice rose an octave. “Can you come now?”

Molly hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Is she still there?”

“I don’t think so. I was outside the room, watching through the glass. She spoke to him, then left.”

Molly heard the tremble in the nurse’s voice. Did she feel she’d let her patient down by leaving him alone and allowing a visitor to upset him? “The doctor had to come and order more sedation. It won’t last long.” Her voice became insistent, demanding an answer. “Can you come, now?”

What choice did she have? There was no way Pearce could leave the hospital yet. He’d had major surgery just last night, and a head injury, not to mention his broken leg. She was surprised he was awake, let alone alert enough to think about going home.

“Yes. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Molly laid the phone back on the cradle. Her mind galloped with unanswered questions. What would she find when she got to the hospital? What happened to the child’s grandmother? What did she say to Pearce? Was she on her way here to take Gracie? What if Molly went to the hospital and missed her?

She needed to rein in her thoughts and concentrate on getting to the hospital. The nurse was adamant she get there as soon as possible. Molly thought of patients she’d looked after, who, after wakening from surgery, had been irrational and violent. She knew she had to go. Now that he was awake, Pearce must be crazy with worry about his daughter.

“Molly Mommy.” Gracie tugged her shirt again, her lips curled in a pout. “I want to see my daddy.”

“Okay, Gracie. Let’s get you dressed, then we’ll go see your daddy.”

Her stomach felt as knotted as a ball of wool tangled in a kitten’s claws. She knew she needed to get Gracie to the hospital, yet waves of apprehension gnawed at her brain. Now, in the light of day, and with the passage of the initial trauma of the accident, how could she keep up the pretense? Would Pearce even remember his request?

Ten minutes later, Molly had Gracie dressed and in her car. She set the vehicle in motion, forcing herself to concentrate on the road, rather than her increasingly anxious thoughts. This was no time for a second accident.

The drive back to the hospital was easier in daylight, and less than half an hour later, they were approaching the doors of the intensive care unit, Gracie skipping at her side. Molly held the child’s hand, her heart doing its own skipping as she wondered what kind of reception she would get. Would Pearce remember he had asked her to pose as his wife and care for his child? What had happened to upset the nurse when the child’s grandmother visited?

A low buzz came from the visitor’s television set in the waiting room for the intensive care unit. Molly half expected Mrs. Nesbitt to be sitting primly on one of the rigid vinyl chairs, waiting impatiently to collect her granddaughter. She felt the muscles in her face tense at the thought of handing this sweet child to the cold woman in the picture. Holding her breath, Molly glanced inside.

With its generic furniture, muted moss green walls, scarred coffee tables topped with full boxes of Kleenex, the room was stark and institutionalized. Devoid of humans, it looked sad and forlorn. Molly let out her breath and kept walking.

She was just a few feet from the intensive care unit when a stately, white-haired woman stopped her. She recognized her from the photo on Pearce Taylor’s desk. “Mrs. Nesbitt?”

“Yes.”

The woman looked as austere as her picture. Molly felt as if she’d just walked under an air-conditioning vent. Was it only an illusion, or had the woman’s aquiline nose really lifted an inch when she addressed her.

“You are Molly Tanner?”

“Yes.” She stretched out her hand, but the woman didn’t seem to notice. Molly retracted her hand and put it behind her back where Gracie was hiding. “I was at the accident scene and called the ambulance. I stayed with Gracie last night.”

Molly tried to pull the child out from behind her legs. “Gracie, say hello to your grandmother.” The child looked at the woman, but refused to speak. “Sorry, she’s upset about her father. Will you be staying at the house with her, or taking her to your home?”

“Excuse me?”

Molly wondered if the woman was hard of hearing. “Will you be taking Gracie with you?”

“Oh, no. I can’t look after the child.”

“But she’s your granddaughter,” Molly blurted out.

This time it was no illusion that the woman’s nose tipped upward.

“Pearce will pay you to look after her,” said Mrs. Nesbitt.

“No, I can’t stay.”

“Why? You’re not working now.”

Molly’s head jerked up, and she stared at the woman. “How do you know that?”

Mrs. Nesbitt shrugged her thin shoulders. “Money has its benefits. My lawyer checked you out, Miss Tanner.”

Molly gasped. “Your lawyer?”

“Oh, yes, dear. One can never be too careful. Now, I know about that little bit of trouble at the hospital.” Her multi-ringed fingers fluttered like butterfly wings. “But I’ve spoken to Doctor Braithwaite.”

“Doctor Braithwaite?” Molly started at hearing the name of Saint Christopher’s director. Did he even know about her suspension from the hospital?

“Why would you do that?”

“He’s an old family friend. He doesn’t believe a word of it. Says you are totally trustworthy. Says it must be a mistake. It just needs to be straightened out.” Her hand fluttered again. “Pearce will pay you well.”

“But I can’t stay.”

“You don’t have another job, do you?”

Molly sighed. “No. Not yet.”

“You could use the money, right?” Her eyebrows arched in a peak that almost reached the line of her professionally coifed white hair.

Molly thought of her condo and the payments she would have to keep up until she was back to work. She had some savings, but it wouldn’t take long before they were eaten up. And she had no idea what type of job she could get, and when. If she stayed here until Pearce Taylor came home, she wouldn’t have to pay for lodging and could add to her savings.

“You want me to stay, someone you don’t even know, to look after your granddaughter?”

“Well, I can’t do it. I’m leaving on an extended cruise tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry,” Molly said. “I can’t do it.”

“Mrs. Taylor?” A nurse opened the door of the Intensive Care Unit. “Mr. Taylor is waiting for you and Gracie.”

“I have to take Gracie to see her father.” Molly lifted the child into her arms and hurried after the nurse.

The familiar scent of hospital antiseptics, sanitizers, and germicides was somehow comforting—her territory, her home court advantage. It gave her the courage she needed to face the unknown.

He thought he was dreaming again. There were times when his mind was so fuzzy he didn’t know whether he was awake or not. He had two recurring dreams. One a nightmare where his car was careening off the road. In the other, a red-haired vision was pulling him out of his car, hovering over him, stroking his head, whispering in his ear. Now, he didn’t know if he was still in the dream. He thought his eyes were open, but here was the apparition standing over him. Was she a vision, or a real flesh-and-blood woman?

He peered around the oxygen mask. She smiled shyly down at him. He blinked his eyes, yet the image remained.

There standing at the end of his bed was the angel he’d been dreaming about. But this was no gossamer vision; this was a flesh and blood human with all the attributes of a real woman—fashionable clothes, make up, a whiff of perfume that sent his senses reeling. He blinked his eyes, yet when he opened them again, she was still there. Her image wasn’t fading away. She stood like a sculpture, except for the nervous twitch playing at her lips, and the way she white-knuckled the end of the bed.

He yanked the oxygen mask away from his face. The metal band bit into the bridge of his nose, and he couldn’t see through the transparent plastic. His throat felt raw and swollen, and he swallowed the lump that had formed there. Tipping his head, he tried to make eye contact with the woman. She seemed to be avoiding his direct gaze.

Then he heard a voice that revolved his world 360 degrees.

“Daddy.”

The voice was small and tremulous, yet one he would recognize anywhere, the voice that made his world worth living. Her luminous blue eyes peeked around the corner of the hospital bed.

“Oh, Gracie,” he moaned. “You’re okay.” His eyes brimmed with tears. He closed them for half a second, as if thanking some unknown deity that she was alive and well. “Come here, baby.”

Gracie needed no second invitation. She ran to the bed and laid her head beside her father’s chest. His arms wrapped around her slight shoulders. Tears slid down his tanned cheeks, and he made no effort to wipe them away.

“Daddy crying?”

“It’s okay, Gracie. I’m just so happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you, too,” she announced. “Molly Mommy, come and see, Daddy’s awake now.”

Molly’s legs felt like frozen popsicles; popsicles that were melting away in the heat of the small hospital room—heat that escalated as she awaited Pearce’s response. She’d suppressed a shiver when she heard him speak for the first time since the accident. At that time, all she’d heard were pain-tortured words. Now she expected some initial raspiness after the irritation of the breathing tube and was surprised how wonderful his voice sounded. It was rich and deep and gentle as he spoke to his daughter.

Yet she was afraid of hearing his first words to her. Would he denounce her for pretending to be his wife? Perspiration trickled down her back, and she had trouble taking a breath. Would it infuriate him to hear his daughter call her Mommy? Then he was stretching out his hand. Molly let out an audible sigh.

“Come here, Molly.”

She approached the bed, stood beside him, and let him take her hand. Today it was warm, not like the cool hand she’d held last night while he clung to life. Then he was speaking—his voice soft, quiet, firm.

“Thank you, Molly. You saved my life.” He sighed deeply. “I don’t know what would have happened to Gracie, or to me, if you weren’t there.” He glanced at his daughter, then back at her. The intensity of his blue eyes held her.

“Anyone would have stopped.”

Pearce shook his head. “Not everyone would have been able to do what you did for me, and then take care of Gracie, too. That takes someone very special.”

His thumb stroked her hand, and with each stroke, a little tingle scurried up her arm. She knew she should pull her hand away, knew it was just too comfortable in his. She knew it, yet her hand remained enclosed in his.

“You can give him a kiss, you know,” Rita said from the doorway.

Her voice and words startled Molly, and her head snapped back so fast she thought she’d given herself whiplash. When she looked back at Pearce, her pupils felt as if they were the size of saucers. Had she imagined a mischievous wink in his twinkling blue eyes?

Molly shook her head. Could a simple wink from this man launch her heart into a series of flip-flops? She studied the man lying in the bed. With his unruly dark hair, his pale aristocratic face, his accident traumatized body, he was no one’s image of a Prince Galahad. But there was something, something she couldn’t describe or explain. She’d only known him for a matter of hours, and those hours restricted by his injured state, hospital visiting hours, and a hospital bed, yet already he felt so familiar to her.

“Yes, Molly, give your poor husband a kiss,” Pearce said.

Stunned, she stood, unable to move. The magnitude of his request melted the last trace of ice from her frozen legs and they became brittle matchsticks ready to burst into flame. She’d expected disorientation, denial, displeasure—definitely not a request for an intimate show of affection. What should she have expected? She was pretending to be his wife.

Her eyes locked with his. This time his mischievous wink was no trick of her imagination. Obviously, he wanted to keep the game in play. Molly tried to think. She should turn around right now. She should run out of the room. She should run out of his life as fast as her legs would carry her. But her legs weren’t listening. Instead, like magnets, they propelled her toward his outstretched hand.

The hand slid around her waist. Like a hot poker, it branded every spot it touched. Sliding up her back, it scorched the skin in its path. Then the hand pulled her downward. Molly felt like a giant silk moth, mesmerized by the flame, her antennae shouting, ‘the fire’s too hot, fly away,’ but the fluttering in her heart drew her close. She saw the smoldering emotion in his eyes, felt the heat of his breath, felt the blaze of his lips. Molly was powerless to resist.

The sound of a giggling child brought her to her senses and she pulled away. She was glad the nurse had put a chair beside the bed. Her knees turned to rubber, no longer supporting her, and she collapsed into the chair. What was happening? Had he cast a spell on her? Never had a man she barely knew kissed her, and never had she wanted a kiss not to end.

“Such a nice, wifely kiss, Molly.” Pearce grinned wickedly. “I can see you missed me.”

Her mouth was suddenly parched, her tongue swollen, and she choked on her words. “I was,” Molly stammered, sensing Rita’s presence in the room, “so worried about you.”