A Christmas Peril (The Teacup Novellas - Book Five) Read online

Chad patted my knee again then stood up. “I’ll go see if I can find some fresh coffee. If Bradley comes back, ring my cell, okay?”

  I nodded then watched him head down the hall.

  Shelly leaned back on the gray sofa. “I’m so glad he’s been here for you.”

  “Me too. I can’t imagine going through this all alone. The UPS folks were here until midnight. Mark’s friend Gordo just left an hour ago. They’ve all been great, but I was glad when they left. I’ve written about scenes like this in my books, but living it?” I shook my head. “I realized there comes a time in situations like this when you just want to be left alone. Except for family, of course.”

  “I know. You feel like you have to stay strong and communicative when everyone’s gathered around, when all you really want to do is crawl in a hole and be left alone.”

  “Exactly.” I took a deep cleansing breath. “Were you able to reach your parents? Mark told me last week they were on a Mediterranean cruise, right?”

  “Yes, and I honestly debated about calling them. They’ve been looking forward to this trip for over a year, and I didn’t want to spoil it for them. But I realized, if something . . .” Shelly looked up at me, her eyes wide. “I mean, if something were to‍—‍”

  “I know,” I whispered, trying to sound braver than I felt. “You had no choice.”

  “I didn’t. I haven’t been able to reach them yet. I’m guessing the cell service onboard those cruisers is next to none. In the taxi on the way here from the airport, I finally tracked down their cruise line. I told them we need to reach them for a family emergency, but who knows when we’ll hear from them.”

  I pushed what was left of my updo out of my face. “Good thinking.”

  “Knowing Mom, the minute she hears them say ‘emergency’ she’ll get both of them packed and demand a helicopter to get off that boat.”

  “I can’t blame her. I’d do the same.”

  Shelly got up as Chad approached with a cardboard carrier holding three cups of coffee. “Let me help you.”

  I stood too, though I’m not sure why. She handed me a cup, and I wrapped my hands around it, welcoming its warmth.

  “Oh, Lucy‌—‌what a beautiful dress.”

  I looked down, almost surprised to find I still had on my sparkly dress. “Oh. Yeah, it’s . . . we were going to the symphony tonight‌—‌I mean, last night. That’s when I first knew something was wrong. Mark was late.”

  “And Mr. UPS is never, ever late. Gotcha.”

  “Never.” I straightened, willing the knots out of my back. “I guess I’m a bit overdressed for a hospital waiting room.”

  “Which reminds me,” Chad said, still wincing from a sip of the hot coffee. “I thought I’d make a run to your house in a little while. Gertie’s probably worried sick about you.”

  “Oh, Gertie,” I dropped into the nearest chair. “How could I have forgotten her?”

  “Hey, she’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it. But I can pick up a change of clothes for you‌—‌unless you’d rather go home and get some sleep or grab a shower?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m not leaving.”

  “I figured. Will you trust me to bring something from your closet?”

  “Miss Alexander?”

  We stood as a doctor in scrubs made his way toward us.

  “Yes, I’m Miss Alexander. Lucy. Um, Lucy Alexander.”

  “I’m Chris Felton. I’m covering for Dr. Bradley this morning, and he asked me to stop by and update you on Mark’s status.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Felton,” Chad said. He introduced himself, then Shelly. “What can you tell us?”

  “Mark’s resting. He’s still comatose, but his vitals look good. Dr. Bradley was concerned he might need to surgically implant a ventriculostomy drain inside Mark’s brain to relieve some of the pressure. But at this point, the swelling seems to have slowed considerably, so he’s hoping that might not be necessary. He had to set Mark’s shoulder with a couple dozen screws. He’ll be in a sling for quite a while. We’ve also put him in a temporary neck brace just as a precaution. He looks pretty beat up, but as Dr. Bradley probably told you, time will tell us the full extent of Mark’s injuries.”

  “When can we see him?” I asked, already weary of the jargon.

  “That’s actually why I’m here. I’ll take you back‌—‌well, two of you, anyway. There’s a two person limit in ICU.”

  I shoved my coffee cup at Chad. “Shelly? Is it okay if I come with you?”

  “I was about to ask you the same question,” she said, setting her cup on the coffee table. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 2

  I couldn’t breathe. My fists were clenched so tight, my nails were digging into the palms of my hands. I blinked away the tears, trying to find one single thread of composure.

  Before me, Mark lay stretched out like a zombie, almost too long for the narrow bed. His head was wrapped in gauze, much of his face horribly bruised. The neck brace looked uncomfortable, but didn’t seem to be bothering him, under the circumstances. His right arm was in a sling against his body. Wires and tubes crisscrossed here and there connecting him to monitors that beeped a steady rhythm. I reached out to place my hand on his before noticing an IV taped to it. Instead, I curled my fingers tightly around his thumb.

  “Oh, Mark,” Shelly whispered beside me.

  I was trying so hard to hold it together. He looked so lifeless, and the mere thought of that possibility crept down my spine. A half-sob slipped from somewhere inside me.

  Shelly wound her arm around my waist and pulled me close. “Lucy, he’s going to be okay. You know Mark. He’s tough as nails. He’s not going to let something like a silly hostage situation get him down.”

  We both laughed. Well, the closest thing to it, anyway. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Shelly reached out and placed her hand on his blanket-covered knee. “So Mark, here’s the thing,” she began in her business-as-usual voice. “You just need to take it easy for a few days. Give that big ol’ knucklehead of yours a good rest. Don’t you worry about a thing. Lucy and I will keep an eye on you whenever these nice folks allow us in here, and before you know it, you’ll be back in the saddle again. Whatever that means.”

  I took another deep breath and tried to think what to say. “Hey, buddy. You listen to your sister, okay?” I croaked, which oddly enough, made me smile. Mark always teased me whenever I’d get choked up or croaky. What’s the matter, got a throat in your frog? Oh, if only I could hear his silly jokes right now. I carefully wound my fingers with his, willing him to hear me.

  We stood in silence for a few minutes, Shelly’s arm still snug around my waist. It’s funny, the things you think of at a time like that. Like Mark’s awkward approach before he tosses a bowling ball down the lane. Gangly and impossible, yet he rarely throws anything but strikes or spares. Or the way he always takes a bite off my plate. When we were kids, if Chad did that, I’d swat his hand away. But when Mark snagged a fry or a piece of fried okra off my plate, I found it endearing and sweet.

  I stared at the creases of his dimples. I’d never seen dimples that deep until Mark smiled at me that first time he made a delivery. I caught myself staring at them, thinking they’d be perfect for the handsome hero in the book I was writing. They were so adorable, the one on the right always tugging up the side of his face more than the other, making his whole head appear to lean to one side; like puppies tilting their heads to one side when they’re curious.

  A nurse quietly appeared on the other side of Mark’s bed. “I’m sorry, but it’s that time,” she said.

  I knew our allotted fifteen minutes would go fast, but I would have sworn we’d just walked in.

  “No problem,” Shelly said. She patted his leg once more and motioned for me to follow her.

  I nodded, lifting my hand toward her. Just one more moment. She nodded with a smile, raising her index finger‌—‌one minute‌—‌before stepping out of the room. I leaned over and
traced my finger down the side of Mark’s purpled face. “I love you, Mark. I need you to get better, okay? I’ll see you again in a little while.”

  My throat closed again, so I pressed my lips against his cheek. As I drew back, something glistened on the side of his face. For a microsecond I thought he was crying. That’s a good sign, right? But as I brushed away the dampness on his cheek, I realized the tear was one of mine.

  Time meant nothing to me as I kept vigil in that ICU waiting room. I despised the clock on the wall, silently, and oh-so-slowly ticking away the yawning four-hour chasms between brief visits back to see Mark. At some point, Chad brought me a change of clothes. I knew I needed to take a shower, but for now the familiarity of my jeans and t-shirt felt heavenly. Thank goodness he remembered to bring my navy hoodie. I have no idea why they keep hospitals so cold. I kept expecting to find a side of beef or two hanging in the corner of the waiting room.

  So I was surprised that an entire day and night had passed when Chad showed up again. He handed me a chai latte from Starbucks, and I almost cried at its heavenly aroma.

  I stood up, crawling into his outstretched arm. “Oh, Chad, thank you.” My voice got all tinny and my eyes watered. Again.

  “It’s a cup of chai, Lucy. Hardly worth crying over.” He hugged me then motioned for me to sit back down. “You, little sister, need to go home and get some sleep.”

  I knuckled away the renegade tears before taking a sip of my chai. “I can’t leave. I won’t. Not until he comes around. Please stop asking me to, okay?”

  “Okay, okay. By the way, Gertie sends her love.”

  “I wish you could bring her to see me. I miss her.”

  “I see people with pets on almost every flight I take these days. Supposedly, they ‘comfort’ travelers who have anxiety issues.”

  “Well, I’d definitely qualify for anxiety issues, so go get her.”

  He reached over and squeezed my hand. “Nah, you’ve got me here to do that, right? Let Gertie enjoy her stay at Uncle Chad’s. I bought her a whole new bag of chew sticks.”

  “You spoil her rotten. Hey, what’s in the bag?"

  Chad reached into a reusable grocery bag from Publix. “I found this on your front porch when I stopped by this morning.”

  He handed me a large UPS bubble-pack envelope. I turned it over and spotted my cousin Stephen’s return address label. “Oh my gosh‌—‌this must be Aunt Lucille’s diary.” I tried to rip it open but didn’t have the strength. My Eagle Scout brother always carried a pocketknife, so he reached over and slit the envelope for me.

  I pulled out the tissue-wrapped book and anxiously starting unwrapping it. My eyes filled again, making me blow out an angry huff. “Honestly, what is wrong with me? I can hardly breathe without losing it.”

  “Easy, Sis. Cut yourself some slack, okay? So why did Stephen send you his mother’s diary?”

  “It’s for my next novella. I’m loosely basing the story on her love story with Uncle Gary.”

  “Really?”

  I finally freed the diary, letting the tissue paper fall to the floor. Turning the precious book over in my hands, I stopped and closed my eyes. Oh, Aunt Lucille. How desperately I need to feel your presence here with me now. I prayed silently‌—‌wishing, hoping, longing. Then I pressed the book against my nose and took a deep breath. The faintest trace of her Chanel No. 5 perfume wisped its way into my lungs, filling me with such a visceral sense of my namesake, my Aunt Lucille. Or maybe I just imagined it so.

  “Lucy?”

  I opened my eyes to find my brother gazing at me with concern. I shook my head, not even attempting to explain the memories swirling through my mind. I clutched the book against my heart and breathed another silent prayer of thanks. Who but God could have orchestrated something like this? A few days ago, while doing research for my new book, I called Stephen to ask him some questions about his parents. He tells me he’d recently discovered his mother’s diary. He sends it to me, and it shows up in this hospital waiting room where I’m filled with so much angst about Mark’s injuries. Who but God would have slipped this heirloom into my hands, right here, right now?

  For such a time as this.

  Exactly.

  “Miss Alexander?”

  Chad and I stood up, turning in sync at the familiar voice of the seven-to-three shift nurse.

  “Hello, Kirsten. Any news?” Chad asked.

  “Good, and about to get even better. Dr. Bradley has released Mark to a private room up on the eighth floor.”

  I looked at Chad then back at Mark’s nurse. “Are you sure? Isn’t this too early? Doesn’t he need constant monitoring? What if something happens and‍—‍”

  “If Dr. Bradley thinks he’s ready to move, I guarantee it’s because Mark’s condition has improved enough to warrant a move. Bradley’s a stickler and always errs on the side of caution, so relax. Besides, now you can stay with Mark as long as you like. No pesky limits on visiting hours.”

  Suddenly my arms were wrapped around her. Believe it or not, I’m not the kind of person who hugs people all the time. But I couldn’t help it. Kirsten had just given me the best possible news. Well, almost the best.

  “I told you it was good news,” she said, laughing with Chad as he extricated me.

  “So is Mark, uh, is he‍—‍”

  “Conscious? No, not yet. But Dr. Bradley said the swelling has gone down substantially, and he feels confident that Mark will do better in his own room. He sends his apologies for not telling you himself, but he got called away for emergency surgery. He’ll be in to talk to you once Mark is settled.”

  “And I can stay with Mark as much as I like?”

  “Absolutely. If you want to stay 24/7, that’s perfectly all right.”

  “Okay if we go up to his room now?” Chad asked.

  “Not yet. You know how things go around here. It could be an hour or so, but I’ll let you know just as soon as he’s settled, okay?”

  The next thing I knew, Chad was prying me out of another Kirsten hug. I didn’t care. Mark would be in his own room soon, and I would stay by his side until he was ready to go home. A few days, a couple of weeks‌—‌I didn’t care about that either. As long as I could be there for him.

  As we sat back down, Chad rubbed his hands together. “Well, then. Good news at last. You go ahead and finish your chai. I’ll give Shelly a call to tell her.”

  “Good idea. Thanks, bro.”

  I took a sip of my chai and started making a mental list of things I wanted Chad to pick up for me at the house. As he placed the call to Shelly, it dawned on me he must have her number already logged into his cell.

  Interesting.

  Chapter 3

  As hospitals go, it took much longer than expected for Mark to get moved. Shelly returned around one that afternoon and convinced me to have a late lunch with her in St. Michael’s cafeteria. The place was hopping, but we finally made our way through the salad bar and found a table near the back of the room. I was surprised how good a fresh salad tasted after nibbling on packaged crackers and peanut butter the past few days.

  “Lucy, I love that you’re wanting to stay by Mark’s side, and I totally understand. But I can stay with him too so you can go home and get some rest. We can take shifts or whatever.”

  I took a sip of iced tea and set the glass down. “Thanks, Shelly. I really appreciate the offer. Maybe after a day or two. I just want to be with him when he wakes up, y’know?”

  She nodded, munching on a crouton. “I know. Hopefully that will be soon.”

  “But you’re welcome to stay too. I’d love the company, so please don’t think I’m trying to push you out. Because I’m not.”

  Shelly pinned me with a look. “As if you would? Please. But thanks. You’ll probably get sick of me before this is all over.”

  “No way. I’d love the company.”

  She stabbed a cherry tomato. “Is there anything else I can do for you? Chad said he’s taking care of Gert
ie and running errands for you, but anything else?”

  “Not really. He’s bringing my laptop this afternoon, and that’ll help. I can catch up on my email and maybe get some work done. At some point I need to call my editor. Last count, she’d left twelve voice mails and threatened to call out the National Guard if I didn’t call her.”

  “Does she know what happened?”

  “Yes, I made the mistake of texting her a brief message. You have to know Sam. She loves to be all up in your business, then tell you what she would do under the same circumstances. She means well, but she’s crusty too. Not a lot of TLC in her skill set, if you know what I mean.”

  “I had a roommate like that back in college. Her own life was a train wreck, but she always had advice for me on how to run mine.”

  “That’s Sam. I’ve never missed a deadline, but you’d never know it by her. She starts the pressure before I have a single word on the page.”

  “Which reminds me. Chad tells me your new book is based on your aunt and uncle’s love story back in the forties. I can’t wait to read it.”

  “I’ve barely started working on it, so don’t hold your breath.”

  “Maybe you can make some headway while you’re sitting with Mark.”

  My cell rang. Kirsten called to tell us Mark was in his room.

  “Thank you so much! We’re on our way.”

  An hour later, Shelly took off to run some errands, and I settled in, making myself at home in Mark’s room. A constant stream of aides and nurses came and went, but in spite of the numerous interruptions, I was so thankful to be close to Mark. I couldn’t stop touching him. Cupping his cheek in my hand, stroking his forearm, brushing the few locks of hair that were exposed beneath his gauze-wrapped head. My eyes always tracked back to his, wondering when I’d find them open again.

  A nurse dressed in those comfy scrubs favored by medical professionals joined me by Mark’s bed. “Research tells us that coma patients often hear the voices of those around them, so feel free to talk to him.”

  “Okay.”