Dom of Ages (30 page)

“I believe I said you were to stay in bed today.”

I chuckled. “Again? You can’t keep giving me days off, just because you can’t keep your hands off me. Besides, I’m better.” Even as I said the words, there was another twinge in my chest.

“You’re getting awfully cheeky,” he said, running his hand down my back, before he swatted me on the arse. “Bed. Rest. Now. I’ve made you some lunch for later. It won’t be much, but I’ve left it in the refrigerator. Now off with you.” He kissed my cheek.

I turned around, put my arms around him and kissed him properly, taking my time. Eli relaxed into the kiss, molding his body to mine. “So it seems I’m not the only one who has difficulty keeping his hands to himself,” he murmured against my lips.

I smiled. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, remember?” I gave him one last big kiss and then released him.

“I’ll call to check in on you later, okay?” Eli grabbed his lunch bag, planted one more swift kiss on my forehead, and then he was out the door, running. I was about to follow him to wave him off when another pain ran down my left arm.
Not thirty anymore, I guess
. For the first time since I’d come to live with Eli, I considered going back to bed. Yes, there were things that needed doing, the laundry, the ironing, but I really didn’t feel up to them at that moment. I went back to bed and pulled the covers up around me, quickly falling asleep.

When I awoke it was noon. I stared at the clock in shock. I’d never slept like that before. It struck me that the antacids weren’t doing their job: it still felt as though an elephant was sitting on my chest. Then it occurred to me how long ago I’d taken them. I obviously needed more. I got up and trudged down to the kitchen, ready to do the dishes, when a note on the sink caught my attention:

Touch these and you won’t be touching anything of mine for a week.

I grinned.
Talk about hitting me where it hurts.
I opened the fridge to see what he’d made. I wasn’t hungry at all, but figured if I didn’t eat he’d be upset. There was a sandwich on a plate with some kind of pasta. I reached in to pick it up when pain shot through my chest and arm, so sharp it took my breath away. I dropped the plate, which shattered on the floor, its contents landing everywhere. I stumbled back and collapsed in the chair, my heart racing, unable to catch my breath. Sweat popped out on my forehead. I fumbled for my phone and tried to focus on the numbers, but I was frightened when the pain hit me once more. Oh God, this time it felt
huge
. My fingers didn’t seem to work, and there was a numbness to my arm, and as I fumbled with the phone, it rang. I slid a finger across the screen and tried to speak, but couldn’t make my mouth work properly.

“Jarod?” Eli said cheerily. “Feeling better, pet?”

“Eli,” I croaked. “Help me. My… chest… it’s—” Then another sharp pain hit, and everything went dark.

Eli

“PET? PET!
Jarod? Answer me!”

I couldn’t hear anything. I hung up and dialed 999, telling the operator that he’d been feeling sick and had called me, begging for help. As soon as I mentioned his chest, she assured me they’d send someone right away.

“Is there anyone home who could let in the ambulance crew?” she asked.

“No, he’s there alone. Break down the damned door if you have to, I don’t care. Please, you have to help him.” I swallowed hard, trying to rein in the panic.

“In cases like this, the police will also be sent to the address,” she told me. “Don’t worry, they’ll get in. Can you get there?”

“I’m at work but leaving now. It’s still going to be about forty-five minutes before I can get there.”

“The ambulance will take him to the Royal Infirmary.” I thanked her and disconnected the call. After that everything was a blur. Brian told me to take as much time as I needed. One of the guys took my keys and drove me to the hospital, before taking a taxi back to the office.

Once inside the hospital, I went straight to the reception desk and was directed to A&E. Only, they wouldn’t let me in to see him. I wasn’t a blood relative or listed as his next of kin. I gave them the number for Maggie and then sank down onto what had to be the most uncomfortable plastic chair ever. My mind was awash with questions.

Like I could sit there and do nothing. I got out my phone and scrolled through the contacts.

Will’s voice was full of sleep, and I noted the time. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t think you’d be asleep at this time of the day.”

He yawned. “Did on-call last night for this agency I work for. I didn’t get to bed until five.”

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Stop apologizing, I’m awake now. What’s going on?” He tried to sound cheerful, but I knew him well enough. He was grumbly when he didn’t get his sleep.

“Jarod’s in the hospital. I think he had a heart attack.” Instantly Will became the alert professional, asking questions in a rapid-fire pace. I didn’t have the answers and told him so. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I was….” My voice trailed off.

“You were afraid,” Will filled in. “Perfectly understandable in the circumstances. If it were my boy, I would be beside myself. Let me see what I can find out. Jarod…. What’s his surname?” I told him. “Okay, I’ll call you back when I know something.”

“Oh, thank you, Will.” My voice sounded tiny. He was right. I was so afraid. I glanced around the waiting room, noting people milling about, and I wanted to scream, “Don’t you know my boy had a heart attack? Don’t any of you fucking realize he could be dying?” But I didn’t. I wrapped my arms around my chest and tried so hard to keep it together. I had to be strong for him.

I don’t know how long I sat there before I detected the smell of menthol and two slender, bony arms wound their way around me.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Maggie sounded tired.

I clutched those arms, desperately wanting someone to ground me. She sat down slowly in the empty chair beside me.

“He’ll be okay,” she promised. “I’m sure they’re doing everything they can.” She pressed her cheek against mine, her skin so soft. “I won’t tell you not to worry, but at least with me here, we can worry together.” We sat there, her holding my hands, and me crying like a baby. I never understood until this moment how Jarod had felt when he lost Phillip. The uncertainty, the pain, the remorse over things you should have said, but always thought there would be time to say. The thought had me sobbing against Maggie’s shoulder. She crooned in my ear, singing a song that sounded like one my mum sang.

“I can’t lose him,” I croaked. “I’m not ready yet.”

I felt her smile against my cheek. “Oh, bless you, sweetheart, you’ll never be ready. When Jarod’s father died, I was devastated. He was too young. We were too much in love. Life doesn’t care what we have planned.”

I stared at her. “How can you be so calm?” I demanded, anger once again rising in my chest.

She straightened and sat very still. “When you called, I died on the inside. A mother should never outlive her child.” She looked off into the distance, her face pale. Then the moment passed, and she regarded me with affection. “But you’re my family too, and I need to be strong for you right now. Later you’ll be strong for me, okay?”

I could have kicked myself. I had only known Jarod a few months, and Maggie was comforting me. It should have been the other way around. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“For what? Dragging Jarod out of his shell? For making him insanely happy? Yes, you should be sorry,” she teased. “Eli, Phillip made Jarod come alive. You give him life. Do you understand the difference?” I shook my head, and she smiled. “Phillip saw something in Jarod. It called to him, and he reacted to it. He nurtured it and gave it the attention it needed. When he died, I thought a part of Jarod did too. Then he met you. The bit of him that was Phillip’s showed itself again, just a little. Then you took him under your wing and encouraged him. You helped him make friends again, to find a purpose. Phillip was his whole life, and when he was gone, Jarod didn’t know what to do. You showed him life again, where he was able to see beyond a person. You took the part of him and added to it, making him whole once more. No one could be prouder of that than me.”

Tears blurred my vision. I pulled her in for a hug, and we sat there, clinging to one another, doing our best to give strength to the other.

“Mrs. Pearce?”

She glanced up, her eyes red. “Yes?”

A doctor in a white coat stood in front of her. “I’m Dr. Marlowe. Can I talk to you?” He eyed me before he added, “In private.”

She glared at him. “This is my son’s boyfriend. Whatever you have to say, you’ll say it to him too.”

He blinked several times but then sat on the chair next to her. “Your son has had a minor myocardial infarction. There was restricted blood flow to his heart.” She gasped and clutched my hand, her thin fingers wound tightly around mine. “Jarod will be okay,” he hurried to assure us. “We’ve started him on thrombolytic medication to dissolve a clot. We’ll be keeping an eye on his condition, but we think we can treat him with medication. When he’s in a stable condition, we’ll move him to Cardiology.” He rose to his feet and addressed Maggie. “He’s asleep right now, but you can see him if you like.”

Maggie stared at him as if he’d grown two heads. “Of course we want to see him.” I helped her to her feet, and we followed Dr. Marlowe along a corridor and into a side ward. There were only two beds in it, and only one was occupied. That first sight of Jarod, surrounded by monitors bleeping away, a drip, and all those wires, was enough to send my heart plummeting. I heard the hitch in Maggie’s breathing, and her fingers gripped mine.

“I don’t know about you,” she said, her voice quavering, “but I need some coffee. Sit down in that chair and stay with him while I go in search of whatever swill passes for caffeine in this place.” She grimaced. “I don’t rate my chances.”

“Let me go,” I suggested.

Maggie shook her head. “I need the exercise. At least, that’s what my GP tells me every time he looks over these old bones. Besides, if Jarod wakes up, I’m sure he’d rather see your face than mine.” She winked and then walked slowly out of the room, her shiny black handbag over her arm.

I sat down in the chair and leaned against the wide back, my gaze fixed on Jarod. He didn’t seem at peace: his forehead was furrowed and slight whimpers escaped his lips now and again. I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the bleeps of the monitors, the steady
drip drip drip
of the IV line, until I realized that those things were there to make him better. My panic must have worn me out, because the next thing I knew, Maggie was nudging me awake, a polystyrene cup of coffee in her hand.

“Looks like you need this, son.”

I took it gratefully and sipped the brew. I pulled a face. “I see you were spot-on with your predictions about the coffee.”

Maggie gave a tired smile. “You get to my age, you spend a lot of time in hospitals for one reason or another. Some things just don’t change.” She walked over to the bed and gazed down at her sleeping son. “The nurse out there said he might sleep a lot at first. You okay to stay a while? Because I’m not going anywhere.” She smiled, only this time it was brighter. “That nice young male nurse said he’d find me a bed, bless him.” She winked. “Although he only grinned when I asked him if he’d share it with me for a while.”

It was then that I discovered that snorting hot coffee out of your nose was bloody painful.

THE NEXT
day dragged on. Jarod had responded well to the medication and had been moved to a private room in the Cardiology ward. There was already talk of discharging him within a couple of days; the doctors were pleased with his progress.

I wished I felt the same way. Jarod was awake but not talking. I’d stood at the foot of his bed, wondering what the hell was going on. He’d lain there, staring at the ceiling, not once meeting my gaze. When I’d begun to panic, Maggie had pulled me into a meeting with the doctor, who explained to us that what was going on was quite common.

“After a heart attack, it’s common for patients to experience negative feelings: fear, depression, denial, anxiety. Jarod will run through them all at one point or another. I strongly urge you to get him to see a counselor who specializes in aftercare of a heart attack. I can give you some suggestions.”

“So I assume this is something Eli can’t just spank out of him?” Maggie asked, trying to appear innocent. I was so glad not to be drinking coffee at the time.

If the doctor was shocked, he didn’t show it, although I did see the faintest twitch of his lips. “No, I’m afraid not. He will need someone who won’t let him feel sorry for himself, though.” His gaze met mine. “If that’s the type of relationship you have, then you need to keep at it. Make sure he takes his medications, keeps his appointments, and don’t let him wallow. There’s nothing worse than feeling sorry for himself.”

After the doctor had left, Maggie turned to me. “You know he’s already doing that, right? Feeling sorry for himself? That’s why he’s not talking to us. I know my son. He’s got all kinds of stuff going on in his head, and even if he’s willing to kneel before a man, he won’t let go of his feelings of inadequacy so easily.”

So Jarod was being stubborn.
Tell me something I don’t know.

Jarod

THE CEILING
had a spiderweb crack in it. I’d lost count of how many times I counted its strands, anything to occupy my mind to keep me from imagining the conversation I was going to have with Eli. Because lying there, I’d done nothing but think.

Mother had come and gone at various times. I was always aware of her presence, even though I didn’t acknowledge it. Keeping silent was easier than trying to share what was going on inside my head. Not talking to Eli was harder, though. I told myself it would be best in the long run, that it would hurt him less once he understood.

I think part of me always knew I was talking absolute rubbish. But I had to face facts. This whole episode had been a timely reminder that I would die before Eli, as Phillip had died before me. I had no business getting involved with a man two decades my junior. It had been my desire to be needed again. I should have simply stayed at Phillip’s house and remained the caretaker. No one would have hurt me there, and I wouldn’t have a broken heart either.