Fairy Tale Weddings (20 page)

Judy grinned. “So we meet again.”

“I have some medical training,” he explained. “Mr. McFarland asked that I check you over before the doctor gets here.”

Judy nodded and slumped onto the end of her bed.

McFarland was pacing in the hallway outside her room when Wilson returned. “Well?” he asked anxiously.

“My guess is that she's cracked a couple of ribs.”

“She's in considerable pain, isn't she?” Although Judy tried to hide it from him, McFarland could tell that she wanted to scream and once again he felt her agony.

“She's pretending it doesn't hurt, but I know better,” Wilson said wryly.

“Give her something for the pain,” McFarland demanded gruffly.

The other man looked uncertain. “I don't know if I should, Mr. McFarland. The doctor might want to—”

“It could be hours before he shows up. Give her something and do it now. That's an order.”

Wilson nodded, swallowing any argument. “Right away.”

He returned a few minutes later with two capsules, instructing Judy to take both. Within minutes she drifted into a troubled sleep. She lay tightly curled up, taking shallow breaths, trying to minimize the pain.

When she woke, she discovered John sitting at her bedside, staring at his hands, his face bleak.

“John?”

He straightened and turned toward her. “Yes, Beauty?”

“The island needs…something. A medical facility. What if one of the children gets hurt? Then…what? There's nowhere…” She felt so sluggish, so miserable. The pills hadn't taken the away pain; only her mind was numb.

“The doctor will be here soon,” he assured her.

She nodded and moistened her lips with her tongue. “I'm thirsty.”

“Here.” He lifted her head and held a glass of cool water to her lips. She managed to take several sips. When she'd finished, he kissed her forehead.

“John?” Her voice was a slurred whisper. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but gave up the effort.

The catch in her voice stabbed at his heart. “Yes?”

“I'm sorry I've been such a nuisance.”

The words burned him like a red-hot iron. “You were never a nuisance.”

“But you said—”

He gripped her hand in his own and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “I was wrong.” McFarland couldn't remember ever admitting that to anyone.

He stayed at her bedside until the medical team arrived. Then he lingered outside her room until the physician had completed his examination, which seemed to take hours. McFarland paced the area in front of her room for so long that he grew dizzy.

His thoughts mingled with each other until they dashed through his mind in a muddled sequence. Judy running away from him, Judy falling, Judy in pain. It was all his fault.

When the physician finally did appear, McFarland found himself studying the other man, fearing what he might learn. “Will she be all right?” His eyes pleaded with the white-haired man for assurance.

“I believe so. We brought along a portable X-ray machine. She's cracked two ribs and has a slight concussion.”

“Any internal damage?” That was McFarland's greatest fear.

“Not that we can detect.”

He jerked his fingers through his hair. “Should she be hospitalized?”

The physician shook his head. “I don't see how that would do any good. What she needs now more than
anything
is rest. For the time being she isn't going to feel like getting out of bed. However, that's for the best. Let her sleep.”

“How long?”

“A couple of days. After that, she should gradually increase her activity.”

“What about the pain? I don't want her to suffer.” He couldn't bear to see her face twisted in agony.

“I've left some medication with my nurse, Ms. Reinholt. Ms. Lovin is sleeping comfortably now.”

McFarland let out his breath in a long, slow sigh. “Good. Thank you, doctor.” He offered the physician his hand and had Wilson escort the medical team to the waiting helicopter. Except for the nurse, who'd be staying as long as necessary.

McFarland checked on Judy one last time before going to his office. He was stalled in the foyer by several of the staff members. They raised questioning eyes to him, their concern evident.

“How is Judy—Ms. Lovin—sir?” the chef asked as he bravely stepped forward.

Only hours earlier McFarland would've bitten off the man's head for daring to approach him on a subject that was none of his business. Now he patiently explained the extent of Judy's injuries and answered a legion of questions.

From there McFarland went to his offices. Avery stood when he entered the room.

Before his assistant could ask, he rattled off his now-rehearsed report. “Cracked ribs, bruises and a mild concussion. She'll be confined to her bed for a few days and good as new in a couple of months. Or so the doctor says.”

Avery nodded. “How about you?”

“Me?”

“It doesn't appear to me that
you're
going to recover in a couple of months,” he said boldly.

McFarland glared at his assistant before walking into his office and soundly closing the door. Avery was right; McFarland doubted he'd ever be the same. He'd been shaken to the very core of his existence. He buried his face in his hands and sat, unmoving, for what felt like hours.

Somehow he made it through the day, dictating memos, making decisions, charting the course of numerous companies, but for all the emotion he put into it, he could've been playing Monopoly. Nothing seemed real; nothing seemed right.

The mere thought of food nauseated him. He couldn't eat, couldn't work. And when night came, he discovered that he couldn't sleep, either. He'd tried to stay away, to let her rest, and realized it was impossible.

The nurse in the stiff white uniform answered his knock at Judy's door.

“She's sleeping.”

McFarland nodded, feeling foolish. “Go ahead and take a break. I'll stay with her.”

The woman looked grateful and left soon afterward.

McFarland was thankful to spend the time alone with Judy. Her face was relaxed and revealed no signs of pain, which eased the guilt that had burdened him from the moment he'd watched Judy fall helplessly to the ground.

He couldn't tolerate the thought of her in pain. He wasn't squeamish, never had been, but Judy's accident had terrified him. He'd gone weak. With others, McFarland often battled feelings of rage; with Judy he could only blame himself. He felt sick with guilt.

“John.” His name was a faint whisper.

“I'm here.” Anxiously, he brought the chair closer to her bedside.

The clock on the nightstand said it was near midnight. Or was it noon? Judy didn't know anymore. Everything was so unclear. “Have you been here all this time?”

“No.” He shook his head. “The nurse needed a break.”

“The nurse?”

“Yes, the doctor felt you needed round-the-clock attention for a little while.”

“That's ridiculous.” She tried to laugh and sucked in a breath, her ribs protesting.

“Shh, you're supposed to keep quiet.”

She ignored that and pushed herself up on one elbow. “Help me sit up, would you?”

“No.”

“John, please, I need to talk to you.”

“No, you don't.”

“I'm on my deathbed, remember? Humor me.”

He grudgingly helped her into a sitting position. Next he fluffed up her pillow and tucked the sheets securely around her waist.

A smile lit up her eyes and for the life of him, McFarland couldn't tear his gaze away. “There,” he said, proudly, brushing his palms against each other as though he'd accomplished some impressive feat.

“What's that?” Judy pointed at a small crate on the floor next to the dresser.

“A gift.”

“From whom?”

“Me.”

Although it required some effort, she managed a smile. “Well, for heaven's sake, bring it to me.”

He took it from the crate after breaking off the strips of wood. It was cradled in a thick blanket. “I meant to have it wrapped, but…”

“Oh, John, it doesn't matter. As it is, I don't really know why you'd want to buy me anything.”

The room went quiet as McFarland reclaimed his chair. “Go ahead and open it.”

The object was heavy and awkward in her lap. With infinite care, Judy unrolled the blanket, her excitement growing. As the bronze figure was gradually revealed, she raised her eyes to his. “John? Oh, John, could this be what I think it is?”

He arched both eyebrows playfully. “I don't know.”

Tears filled her eyes and Judy bit her lip, too overcome to speak.

“Judy?”

She pressed her fingers to her mouth as she blinked back the tears. “It's the Riordan sculpture Mother gave Father. He was forced to sell it…recently.”

“Yes.”

“You knew?” Her hand lovingly traced the bronze, stroking it as though she hadn't believed she'd ever hold it in her hands again.

Reverently, she set the sculpture aside and lifted her arms to John. Tears shone in her eyes. “Come here,” she whispered brokenly. “I want to thank you.”

M
cFarland made excuses to visit Judy. Ten times a day he found reasons that demanded he go to her. He discovered it was necessary to confer with her nurse at least twice a day. He delivered Judy's lunch along with his own so they could share their meals. In the evening, he felt Ms. Reinholt, the nurse, should have some time off, so McFarland took it upon himself to stay with the patient. Seldom did he come empty-handed. Judy's injury was the perfect excuse to give her the things he felt she deserved.

Judy's eyes would light up with such happiness at his arrival that his excuses became flimsier with every day. The Riordan sculpture rested on the nightstand and more than once McFarland had caught Judy gazing at it longingly. He knew the piece reminded her of her life in New York, but she never mentioned leaving the island. Neither did he.

“John,” Judy whispered the third day of her convalescence. “You have to send that woman home.” She bobbed
her head in the direction of the stiff-backed nurse who sat knitting in the opposite corner of the room.

“Why?” He lowered his voice conspiratorially, his eyes twinkling.

“I'm not joking, so quit laughing at me! Ms. Reinholt is driving me crazy. Every time I turn around she's flashing a light in my eyes or sticking a thermometer under my tongue. When I complained, she suggested there were other places she could stick the blasted thing.”

Despite himself, McFarland burst into laughter.

Judy's eyes narrowed and she whispered, “I'm glad you consider this so amusing.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, but he didn't feel at all contrite.

In a huff, Judy crossed her arms over her chest and tried to be angry with him. She couldn't. He'd been so wonderful, so attentive, that it wasn't possible to find fault with him. It was as though he yearned to make up to her for his harshness since her arrival on the island.

“I'm tired of sitting in bed.” She tried to appear stern, but the edges of her mouth quivered with suppressed laughter.

He grinned.

“You'd think I was the only woman who'd ever survived two cracked ribs, the way everyone's acting. Well, I've got news for you. I am not a medical marvel.”

“I realize that.”

“No, you don't,” she said. “Otherwise you'd let me get up.”

“You are allowed to get up.”

“Sure, for five minutes every hour. Big deal.” She thrust out her arm. “I'm losing my tan! I'll have you know I worked hard for this.”

He chuckled, and Judy resisted the urge to poke her elbow into his ribs.

“You aren't taking me seriously, John!”

“All right, all right. I'll tell Ms. Reinholt you can get up more often.”

“I want to sit in the sun,” she pleaded.

“Perhaps tomorrow.”

There was no point in arguing. “Promise?”

He nodded. His eyes held hers and were so warm and caressing that Judy wondered why she longed for sunshine when she had John.

“And…”

“Hmm?”

“No more gifts.” Her room was filled to overflowing with everything he'd given her. There was hardly space for all the flowers—roses, orchids, daisies. In addition, he'd given her bottle upon bottle of expensive perfume, and box after box of jewelry until she swore she could open her own store. Her slightest wish had been fulfilled ten times over.

“I like giving you things.”

Her hand reached for his. Intuitively Judy recognized that John was soothing his conscience. She frowned; it was important that he know she didn't blame him. “The accident wasn't your fault.”

His fingers tightened on hers. “I caused you to fall…”

“John, no.” Her free hand stroked his clenched jaw. “I was the one who ran from you. It was an accident.” In her opinion, the pain of cracked ribs was a small price to pay for an end to the hostility between them.

Ms. Reinholt set her knitting aside and checked her watch. “It's time to take Ms. Lovin's temperature,” she said crisply.

“See what I mean?” Judy muttered.

“I'd better get back to the office.” John leaned over and lightly brushed his lips over hers, then stood and left the room.

Obediently, Judy opened her mouth as the nurse approached. She lay back and closed her eyes, savoring the memory of those moments with John. Although he came often, he seldom stayed more than ten or fifteen minutes. Judy was so pleased to see him for any amount of time that she didn't complain.

John wasn't her only visitor. Avery Anderson arrived shortly after noon, pulled up a chair and talked for an hour. He was a fussy man, not much taller than she was and couldn't seem to finish a sentence without stuttering. She found him oddly charming, though, and toward the end of their conversation, he seemed to relax.

Ten minutes after Avery's visit, John reappeared, looking perplexed. He ran his fingers through his hair and studied her. “What did you say to Avery?”

“When?”

“Just now. He was here, wasn't he?”

Judy nodded. “I didn't say anything special. He came to see how I was doing. You don't mind, do you? I mean, if he should've been doing something else, I apologize.”

John shook his head absently. “We'd finished for the day.”

“What's wrong, then?”

“Nothing.” John smiled then, a rich, rare smile. “He's decided to stay.”

“Avery? I didn't know he was leaving.”

“He isn't,” John said. “At least, not anymore.”

“I'm glad.”

He stared at her. “You're sure you didn't say anything?”

“I said a lot of things.”

His gaze returned to her. “Like what?”

“John, honestly. I don't know…I mentioned the weather and we talked about the stock market—he was far more knowledgeable about it than I'll ever be. We talked about you, but only a little. Now that you mention it, he did seem nervous at first.”

“Avery's always nervous.”

“Then there was nothing out of the ordinary.”

McFarland sat on the edge of the bed and braced his hands on either side of her head. “It appears I'm in your debt again.”

“Good, I like it that way.”

He looked as though he wanted to kiss her. He even bent his head closer to hers, his gaze on her lips. Judy wished he would and tried to beckon him with her eyes, but he didn't and left soon afterward, leaving her frustrated and disappointed. He'd kissed her several times since the accident, light kisses that teased her with the memory of other more potent ones. He treated her like…like an indulgent older brother. But she was powerless to change his attitude until she could get out of bed.

Judy crossed her arms and sighed dejectedly. She couldn't blame John for not being tempted by her; she must look a sight in her plain nightgowns. What she wouldn't give for a skimpy piece of silk!

Feeling tired, Judy slept for the next hour and woke to distant hammering, or at least that was what it sounded like.

“What's that noise?” She sat upright, looking at the nurse.

“Is it bothering you? Mr. McFarland instructed me to let him know if the construction disturbed your rest.”

“Construction?”

“Yes, Mr. McFarland is having a medical clinic built. I'll be staying on the island full-time following your recovery.”

“He's building a clinic?”

“Yes, I've already seen several of the children for physical exams. Arrangements are being made to fly in a doctor twice a week from now on.”

Judy was too astonished to make a sound. Grimacing at the pain, she tossed aside the sheets and climbed out of bed. She reached for her robe.

“Ms. Lovin, what are you doing?”

She tried to speak, but couldn't. Instead, she shook her head and walked out of the room.

“Just where do you think you're going?” Virginia Reinholt demanded, hands on her hips.

It was all Judy could do to point down the stairs.

“Ms. Lovin, I must insist that you return to your room immediately. Mr. McFarland will be displeased.”

Judy ignored her and carefully moved down the stairs, taking one step at a time. It hurt to walk, but she discovered that pressing her arm against her sides lessened the pain.

The middle-aged nurse ran ahead of Judy and was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. “Please—go back to your room this instant.”

“No,” Judy said with as much resolve as she could muster.

“Then you leave me no option but to inform my employer.” The nurse marched toward McFarland's suite of offices.

The flustered woman was standing in front of Avery's desk, visibly distressed, when Judy appeared. Avery wiped
his forehead with his handkerchief, straightened his bow tie and nodded now and then.

Judy sidestepped them both, knocked politely on John's door and let herself into his office.

“Judy?” He rose to his feet. “What are you trying to do? Kill yourself?” He noted her tears and lowered his voice sufficiently. “My Beauty, what is it?” He walked around his desk and pulled her into his arms.

Judy tried to tell him, but her voice refused to cooperate. Whimpering softly, she framed his face with her hands and spread kisses over his jaw and cheeks. Quick, random kisses. She found his eyes, his nose, his ear. She kissed him again and again, ignoring his faint protests.

“Judy,” he said thickly, his hands on her upper arms.

He continued to speak, but Judy cut him off by placing her mouth over his, thanking him silently for his thoughtfulness.

The intensity of the kiss rocked them both and, feeling weak, he backed into a chair and sat with her nestled in his lap.

He drew her closer and teased her with feathery strokes of his tongue. Judy moaned, lost in the sensations.

McFarland had restrained himself from holding or touching her like this. Her innocence humbled him, and he was afraid he'd frighten her with the fierce passion she aroused in him.

Since the accident, he'd kissed her a handful of times, but each gentle kiss had only created more need than it satisfied. Now his desire for her mounted with such intensity that it sapped the strength from him. Emotions that had been hiding just below the surface gushed forth, nearly overpowering him with their intensity.

Groaning, McFarland tore his mouth away and nuzzled
his face in her neck, holding her as close as he dared, afraid of causing her further pain. Her tenderness enveloped him, and with it a desire so overwhelming that he couldn't hold her much longer and remain sane.

“John,” she pleaded, “don't stop.”

He kissed her again because refusing her anything was beyond him. His mouth claimed hers, and when he'd finished, their breathing was labored.

He held her face and wiped the tears from her cheek with the side of his thumb, still aghast at the power she held over him. “What happened?”

She shook her head. “I heard pounding…or what I thought was…pounding.”

McFarland nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“You're building a medical clinic?”

“Yes.”

She drew her hands over his face, stroking, loving every inch of his features while she gathered her composure. “Thank you,” she said in a small voice.

McFarland studied her, more perplexed than ever. He'd given her a host of gifts, but nothing had evoked this response. Not even the sculpture. A simple medical clinic had reduced her to tears.

A loud knock forced them apart.

“I apologize for this rude interruption, Mr. McFarland,” the nurse said, standing just inside the door. “There was no stopping her—I did try.”

“I flew the coop,” Judy whispered and was rewarded with a quick smile from John.

“I really have to insist that she return to bed immediately.”

“Oh, do I have to?” Judy asked with a ragged sigh.

McFarland stood, bringing Judy with him. “Yes, you do.”

“Another day of this, and you might as well bury me in my nightgown.” Playfully, she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and rolled her eyes.

“Another kiss like that,” McFarland said, low enough for only Judy to hear, “and you can bury me, too.”

John scooped her into his arms, carrying her up the stairs. Virginia Reinholt led the way back to Judy's room, clucking as she went, listing Judy's myriad transgressions with every step.

McFarland followed Ms. Reinholt into the room and lowered Judy to the bed. She didn't release her arms from around his neck, but held him a moment longer while she whispered, “Just wait until you get sick!”

 

“Are you sure you're up to this?” McFarland asked for the fifth time in as many minutes. The thought of her on another horse made him wince.