Loving Laura (The Cantrelle Family Trilogy) (3 page)

Neil’s curiosity was piqued by Denise’s revelation, but the doctor had turned to leave, and there were still questions Neil wanted to ask him, so he abandoned the subject of Laura Sebastian. He walked after Dunado. “Can I talk to you for a few minutes?”

Dunado nodded, and Neil followed him to the other end of the hall, out of earshot of his family. “Tell me the truth,” he said. “Is Norman going to make it?”

Dunado shrugged, his dark eyes like two bright pieces of glass behind the thick glasses. “I don’t know. These first few days are critical. If he pulls through them, well—”

“What’re his chances of pulling through?”

Dunado stared at him for a few seconds as if weighing how much truth Neil could handle, then said, “Look, he’s young and strong. He was in good physical condition. That helps. But still... I’d say fifty-fifty.”

“I see.” Deep down in his gut, Neil had known the chances weren’t great, a sixth sense born of years of dealing with crisis situations. “If there’s anything else we can do, anybody else we can call in—”

“We’re doing everything that can be done,” Dunado said. “All we can do now is wait.”

Neil stared at him. Bright images flashed through his mind: teaching Norman how to catch a football, chasing Norman through the woods behind his parents’ home, wading barefoot through the creek that meandered across their grandparents’ farm, the two of them dancing at the local Mardi Gras celebration. Neil was even the one Norman had come to when he’d had questions about sex. “How much of Norman’s right leg will be taken?”

“We’ll amputate just above the knee.”

Neil’s heart beat with slow, heavy thuds. The harsh reality of the situation was difficult to accept, but he knew he must. He couldn’t afford to indulge in anger or pity or useless railing against the fates. His parents were going to need strength from him—strength and support and all the optimism he could muster.

“Well, if there’s nothing else...” Dunado said, breaking into Neil’s thoughts.

“Wait. There is one more thing. The woman who was with my brother, where is she?”

“Down on 2E.”

“Can we see her?”

“Sure. And why don’t you try to persuade your parents to go home? They look exhausted, and they’ve received a terrible shock. Right now there’s nothing they can do here. Your brother will be in surgery and then in recovery for hours. Even after that, you won’t be permitted to see him until he’s conscious and able to handle visitors. As long as one of you stays here, you can call your parents if his condition changes.”

Neil glanced down at the other end of the hall where his parents and sisters were huddled together. “I’ll try.”

Just then the singsong paging system hissed into life.
Dr. Dunado, call Extension 556. Dr. Dunado, call Extension 556.

Emotions in turmoil, Neil walked back toward his family. Denise intercepted him before he reached his parents. “What did the doctor tell you?” she asked softly.

“Only that he thinks Mama and Papa should go home and try to get some rest,” Neil hedged. Then, to distract her, he said, “Norman never mentioned this Laura.”

Denise shrugged. “You know Norman.”

Yes, he did know Norman. Not much of a letter writer, his brother tended toward an occasional brief letter about his latest hunting trip or how many fish he’d caught the previous weekend, with an occasional golf score thrown in. Neil grimaced. No, Norman wasn’t the type to talk about his feelings. He was active, physical, and relentlessly cheerful. He didn’t take life seriously and never thought too deeply. He was the exact opposite of Neil. Neil had often wished he could be more like Norman.

“How’d he meet her? Is she from Patinville?”

“No. She moved here from California shortly after you left for Florida, as a matter of fact.”

“Are they serious about each other?”

“Well, it’s supposed to be a secret, but Norman told me a couple of days ago that he’d asked Laura to marry him.”

“And?”

“I couldn’t pin Norman down. Oh, you know how he is. When I asked him point-blank what she’d said, he just brushed me off. He said Laura hadn’t given him a definite answer yet, but he knew what it would be. He wasn’t worried.” She frowned. “But I am.”

Neil remembered how hard it had always been to hide anything from his older sister—how intuitive she was. Even when they were both kids she’d had an uncanny knack for knowing what he was thinking or feeling. She was the first person to guess when he’d fallen in love with Erica. She was also the first person to suspect that his marriage was falling apart. “Tell me,” he urged. He trusted her instincts.

Denise’s thoughtful eyes met his. “Now, remember, this is just a hunch. I have nothing concrete to base it on.”

“I know.”

“Well, I don’t think Laura feels the same way about Norman as he feels about her.”

Neil wanted to question her further, but Nicole was motioning to them. “We’ll talk later,” he said, and Denise nodded. They rejoined the rest of the family. Twenty minutes later he and Denise finally persuaded his mother to go home with Nicole. Nicole hugged Neil tightly before they left.

“Neil, I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered, and Neil’s chest tightened with a rush of love for his twenty- five-year-old sister. “We all need you.” Her expressive brown eyes—Cantrelle eyes, his mother always called them—swam with tears.

His father refused to leave, and Denise insisted on staying, too.

“Jett’s at home with the kids. There’s no reason for me to go,” she said, a stubborn tilt to her chin. “Besides, I want to see Laura.”

After his mother left the hospital, the image of her swollen, haunted eyes preyed on Neil’s mind. If only there was something he could do. Well, maybe there
was
something. He touched Denise’s shoulder. “I know you’re anxious to go down and see this Laura, but would you mind if I go first?”

She studied his face for a few moments, then said, “No, I don’t mind.”

He knew that Denise understood his desire to see for himself what the woman was like. “Will you stay with Papa?”

“Yes.” They both looked at their father, who suddenly seemed much older than his sixty-eight years. His face was gray with exhaustion, and he twisted his hands helplessly as he stared out the window.

Neil squeezed Denise’s hand, then walked toward the elevator. He was disturbed by what Denise had told him, and he hoped she was wrong. He hoped Laura Sebastian loved Norman the way Norman loved her. He hoped she was planning to marry Norman, and that the news about Norman’s leg wouldn’t make any difference to her. He hoped she was a very strong woman and would be able to face the hard days ahead of them.

All I want is miracles, he thought wryly.

As he stepped off the elevator on the second floor, his concern for Norman was almost overridden by curiosity about the woman. A transplanted Californian. He’d bet money she was a bouncy blonde.

When he reached 2E, the duty nurse stopped him. “Are you one of the family?”

Neil shook his head. “No, but Miss Sebastian was with my brother when the accident happened.”

“Well . . .”

“I won’t stay long,” Neil said quickly. “I just want to let her know we’re here.”

The plump nurse studied him for a few minutes, then lifted her shoulders. “I guess it’ll be okay.” She stood up. Her rubber-soled shoes squished as she walked rapidly down the hallway with Neil following closely behind. She stopped abruptly in front of a partially opened door at the end of the hall. “She’s upset, so be careful what you say,” she admonished. “And don’t stay too long.”

Neil nodded and pushed the door all the way open. The blinds had been partially closed against the bright afternoon sun, and the room was bathed in soft golden light. He walked to the bed.

The woman in the bed was asleep. Her chest rose and fell regularly. There was an angry-looking gash on her forehead, and her upper lip looked swollen. Neil studied her quietly.

For a minute he wondered if maybe they’d sent him to the wrong room. The woman in the bed didn’t seem like Norman’s type at all. Her face was pale and thin, with high cheekbones and a long, straight nose. Her body seemed thin, too. Norman had always liked women with some meat on their bones—curvy, feminine women—as Neil himself did. This woman was more angular than curvy.

Medium-length blondish brown hair framed her face. Her eyebrows were dark and well-defined, and long, curly eyelashes fanned her cheeks. Even though her upper lip was distorted, Neil could see that her mouth was wide with a generous lower lip.

She wasn’t beautiful, but he could see that in other circumstances, she would be considered attractive. She had nice skin with a smattering of freckles across her nose and upper cheeks. He looked at her hands—long and slender with tapering fingers and short, unpainted nails. There was a simplicity about her that was appealing, although she certainly wasn’t his type.

As Neil studied her, she whimpered in her sleep, the sound lonely and sad. Impatiently, he dismissed the thought. But she did look oddly defenseless lying there. She was nothing like Neil had pictured her. He grimaced. He’d jumped to conclusions. When Denise had described Laura Sebastian as an ex-Californian, Neil had immediately assumed she was one of the energetic beach bunny types with a toothpaste-ad smile and Farrah Fawcett hair. This woman looked more like . . . what? He didn’t know. She was just an ordinary woman.

Idly, he wondered what color her eyes were.

* * *

Laura opened her eyes. There was a stranger staring down at her, but after a brief flutter of fear, she wasn’t afraid.

His face was tough and darkly chiseled. A stubble of beard shadowed his narrow chin, and his black hair, thick but too long and wild-looking to be fashionable, fell forward over his forehead as if it resisted any kind of taming. His eyes were ebony, thoughtful, and still. His body looked sleekly muscled and taut under a close-fitting gray T-shirt.

Although Laura knew she’d never seen him before, he seemed oddly familiar and oddly disturbing.

“You’re awake,” he said. “Good. I was hoping we could talk.”

He spoke in a low, clipped voice, with only the barest trace of a Southern accent. His words were pleasant enough, but the expression in his dark eyes was guarded.

She wet her lips and winced. Her top lip hurt. “Who are you?” she whispered.

Something flickered in the depths of his eyes. “Neil Cantrelle.”

Laura stared. So this was Neil, the brother Norman talked about so often. The brother who had left Patinville because of some kind of trouble. The brother Norman practically worshipped.

Yes, now that she looked very closely, she could see the resemblance—an eerie similarity in the shape of their eyes and head, even in the shape of their mouths, but there the resemblance ended. Where Norman exuded an open friendliness, his brother’s face was closed and watchful as if he were weighing you and finding you wanting.

“H-hello,” she finally said. “Norman’s talked about you so much.” The effort to speak cost her, but she tried not to show it, strangely reluctant to let him see any weakness.

“Has he?” Now he smiled, a disarming smile that changed his entire face, making him look younger than the thirty-six years she knew him to be. The smile also dispelled some of the air of tension about him. “Knowing Norman, he probably described me as a cross between Bruce Willis and Tom Cruise.” Then his face fell into serious lines once more. “How are you feeling? Everyone’s worried about you.”

Tears filled her eyes, tears she immediately blinked away, furious with herself.

“What’s wrong?” Neil Cantrelle frowned over her, concern roughening his voice.

“Nothing, really. I just...well, it’s so like your family to be concerned about me when Norman... how
is
Norman?” Her head was throbbing again, and she wished she could escape into sleep. The effort to talk had exhausted her.

Neil’s jaw tightened, and a muscle jumped in his neck. “He’s holding his own right now.”

There was something he wasn’t telling her. Laura didn’t know how she knew it, but she did. “Please tell me the truth,” she said. “I have to know the truth.”

His dark eyes met hers. The sounds of the hospital surrounded them: the singsong voice of the paging system, the clink of metal, the muffled laughter of someone in the next room, the muted murmur of a television program.

“Please,” she whispered. She had to know. Whatever it was, she had to know.

“They told me not to upset you.”

“Please.”

His face twisted, and he reached out to cover her hand with his own. “Are you sure you can take it?”

She nodded wordlessly.

“Norman’s legs were pinned in the wreckage. He’s in surgery right now.” He hesitated, then said softly. “They’re amputating his right leg.”

Shock held Laura rigid for what seemed like eternity. Part of her was screaming inside; the other part of her was dispassionate, studying the hand that held hers—a hard, strong hand covered by a mat of crisp black hair, with a sturdy wrist wearing a no-nonsense stainless steel-banded wristwatch.

“Are you all right?” he said gruffly.

“Yes.” But even as she said it, the tears came in a hot tide—down her cheeks—sliding into her ears. “No.” She couldn’t seem to stop the tears, and her hands clenched convulsively. His hand tightened over hers.

“I shouldn’t have told you,” he said.

Laura squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe she could squeeze out the pain, too.

“Miss Sebastian? You wanted something?”

Laura recognized the voice of Mrs. Peres.

“I called you,” Neil said.

“What’s going on here?” the nurse asked.

“I’m sorry. She wanted to know, and I—”

“You’ve upset her!”

At the nurse’s reprimand, he moved his hand from Laura’s, and she felt suddenly bereft. Mrs. Peres’s face held undisguised fury as she glared at Neil. She extracted a tissue from the box on the side table and dabbed at Laura’s eyes and cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Well, you should be!”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Laura said weakly.

“Whose fault was it then?” Mrs. Peres demanded. “He’s the only one I see in here. I think you’d better leave.”