The Ninth Floor (12 page)

“Get your mind
out of the gutter, Bee. I have no idea where he is. Vivian and I had breakfast
this morning, and Jack went home early
last night
.”

“
Jack?
”
A pleased expression covered her face. “He’s handsome.”

“He is.”

“Nice too.”

“So was
Briggs.”

Bee took my
hand. “They’re different.”

I nodded. “I
know.” And I did know, but it was hard not to think about the same thing
happening again. The thought of opening myself up for that sort of pain and
helplessness made my stomach twist and knot. “How’d you sleep last night?”

“Okay.” She
looked away.

“Really? You
look tired. Are you uncomfortable?”

“A little.”

“Bee?”

“I feel
something hovering over me, but when I open my eyes, I can’t see anything. Is
something there, Ryan, or is it in my head?” She looked at the closet, her eyes
fearful—then she shook her head as if dismissing the thought and looked back at
me. “So what’s my surprise?”

“What?”

“You said you
had a surprise.”

I had
completely forgotten. I pulled out a red photo album and held it up. “I found a
bunch of these when I was cleaning out the apartment. I thought you might want
to look through them with me.”

“Well, I’ll
be. I haven’t seen this in years.” She traced the lettering on the front.

“How old are
they?

“I was younger
than you when I made them.” Bee shifted her pale, thin frame to one side of the
bed. “Here. Scoot in so we can look.”

I lay next to
her and opened the album to the first page. “Was my mom more like your parents
or are you?”

“What do you
mean?”

“The two of
you are nothing alike now. Just curious.”

“Blythe was
always so much like our mother. I was a bit more rough and tumble. But both of
our parents loved us dearly—just as both of your parents love you.”

“Jury’s still
out on that.”

“How are my
two favorite girls today?” Jack asked as he came in with a happy smile,
carrying two cups of coffee. He handed me one and stole a quick kiss before
giving Bee a conspiring glance. “Don’t tell the nurses.”

Bee mimicked
zipping her mouth shut. I shook my head at both of them and got out of the bed
so Jack could examine Bee.

After Jack
visited with Bee for about twenty minutes, he had me walk him to the door. “So
what are you doing tonight?” he asked.

“Working on
the apartment. What else do I do? I have to get Vivian’s room ready so she can
move in.”

“Vivian’s
moving in?”

“Yep.
Apparently she’s lonely.”

“Want help?”

“Sure, but you
don’t have to. I’m sure you have other things to do. I can manage.”

“I like
spending time with you.” His lips met mine and his hands ran down my arms. “I’ll
see you around eight?”

“Perfect,” I
said, trying not to sigh—and ignoring the voice in my head telling me all of
this was too quick.

*

When Bee drifted off to sleep, I
pulled out the scrapbook that she and I hadn’t gotten to yet, skimming through
the beginning articles that supported the stories Jack told me the night
before. When I was about to stop reading, another article caught my eye. “Prominent
Local Family Makes Large Donation to St. Michael’s Hospital.” I opened the page
back up. It was about my parents.

Local Family
Makes Large Donation to St. Michael’s Hospital

The Sterling family stands out amongst their peers

September 20th,
1986

Goodson Hollow – In light of
the recent rash of troubles at St. Michael’s Hospital, Cornelius S. Sterling V,
CEO and majority shareholder in Sterling Oil, and wife, Blythe, made a generous
contribution of five million dollars towards the construction of a new
state-of-the-art maternity wing. The couple said, “Our hearts go out to our
friends and neighbors who have lost their little ones. We hope our contribution
may save future families from a similar loss.”

In the past
five years, the maternity ward at St. Michael’s hospital has lost over sixty
percent of their deliveries to SIDS or other complications. The ward was
officially closed on September 17, 1986 and will not reopen until the
construction of the new wing is completed.

The
prominent couple recently welcomed a baby daughter, Ryan Sterling, into their
family. Cornelius Sterling says, “Ryan is a beautiful, happy, healthy child,
and we are blessed to have her.”

Philanthropy
is part of the Sterling’s creed. They give to several international and
national charities and fund many local areas of need. Mayor Darwin Boyd said, “The
town of Goodson Hollow is deeply indebted to the generosity of the Sterling family. Their support has been nothing short of spectacular. I am honored to know
them.”

But anyone
familiar with the history of St. Michael’s knows the maternity ward’s troubles
are not the first time tragedy has struck the hospital.

The article cut off. I flipped it
over but only obituaries were on the other side. It was written four days after
my birthday. The way the page was cut made it look like there would have been a
picture, but it wasn’t included in the scrapbook. I had no idea my parents had
donated to St. Michael’s, but it was true that they were always giving to some
cause or another. I always figured my mother just liked the attention it
brought her. I was, however, curious about what the journalist had to say about
the history of the hospital. Was it the same story Jack told me last night? I
pulled a notebook out of my purse and wrote down the date and page number so I
could research it later. I flipped to the next page and there was an older
article about a spree killing at the hospital, but before I could read it, Bee
stirred.

“What are you
looking at now?” she asked in a dry, raspy voice. I set the scrapbook aside and
poured her some water.

“Just a
scrapbook.”

Bee looked at
the book and shook her head. “That isn’t mine.”

“I know.”

“Where did you
get that?” The expression on her face was foreign to me; she looked angry.

“I found it—”

“Damn it,
Ryan. Put it back where you got it. Why are you digging into something that isn’t
your business?”

I looked at
her with wide eyes. Bee never snapped at me, let alone
yelled
. I nodded
slowly and put the book back in my bag while she rubbed her head. “Are you
okay?”

“Just a
headache,” she mumbled.

“I’ll get a
nurse.” I walked to the nurses’ station and waited for someone to notice me
while I recovered from my strange run-in with Bee.

“Do you need
something, Ryan?” Jack’s voice came from behind me, and the two chatting nurses
looked back at me with guilty expressions.

“Oh, um, Bee
says she has a headache. I was just going to see if she could have something
for it.”

He nodded. “I’ll
be there in a moment.”

I went back to
Bee’s room, feeling awkward. I didn’t know what the rules were about a doctor
dating a patient’s niece, and I didn’t want to make the nurses uncomfortable by
running to Jack anytime Bee needed something.

Bee’s eyes
were closed again. I watched her chest rise and fall and wondered what about
the scrapbook had upset her so much. The door opened, and Jack entered, a
little paper cup in hand. Bee drew in a rattling breath and her eyes blinked
open.

“I hear you
have a headache, Bee.”

She shook her
head. “No, I feel fine—was just resting my eyes.”

“You didn’t
tell Ryan your head hurt?”

“No …” She
glanced at me. “I just woke up.”

My mouth fell
open. I had no idea what to say. She had woken up, had snapped at me …Why would
she lie about it? “Bee, you did too.”

“I don’t think
so, sweetie.” She gave me a concerned smile.

Jack set the
paper cup on her table and picked up her chart. Then he looked at the monitors
around her bed. He scrawled a few notes on the chart before putting it back. “You
rest. I’ll take Ryan to lunch. Then you can try to get up and move around some
today.” He patted Bee’s arm, retrieved the paper cup, and put his hand on my
lower back as we left the room.

I moved away
from him as we entered the hall. “She did say she had a headache.”

“I’m sure she
did. Would you mind eating in the cafeteria?”

I shook my
head, feeling like I needed to defend myself. “Why wouldn’t she admit it? She’s
acting strange today.”

Jack held the
door to the stairwell open for me. “It isn’t that she won’t admit it. She might
not remember. A lot of people with cirrhosis exhibit personality changes and
confusion. We’ve been lucky with Bee so far. She’s pretty much stayed her old
self. A little memory hiccup isn’t as bad as it could be.”

“That explains
her yelling at me too.”

“She yelled at
you?”

“Yeah, right
before she said she had a headache.” I chewed on my lip and mulled things over.
“It’s just going to get worse, isn’t it?”

“Acute liver
failure is very serious. There’s reason to be hopeful, but she has a long road
ahead of her and a lot of changes will have to be made in her life. She needs a
good support system. Transplants aren’t easy for patients or their families.”

My vision swam
for a moment, and I blinked tears away. “So her score is twenty-one—”

“Meld.”

“Whatever.
What exactly does that mean?”

“It determines
her place on the transplant list. Meld scores go up to forty, but a twenty-one
is very serious.”

“How long do
you think it will take?”

“I don’t know.
Hopefully, she’ll have a new liver within a few weeks.”

“But then she
has a 72% survival rate for five years?”

He nodded and
I shook my head. I spent most of my time here trying not to think about what
was really happening, so this recent spat with the reality of our situation
drained the life from me and replaced it with fear. My eyelids started pulsing
as we walked into the cafeteria. Jack put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “I
know this is hard, but you’re doing great.”

“I don’t know
about that.” I grabbed a side salad and piece of fruit, not having much of an
appetite.

We sat in a
relatively empty part of the cafeteria, and I spotted Aiden take a seat a few
tables away. How did he always know when I left? I poked at my food.

“You are doing
wonderfully, but it’s a lot for one person to handle—which is why you should
try to mend your relationship with the rest of your family. Bee will need a lot
of support, but so will you as her primary caregiver. Having a family network
will help a lot.”

I shook my
head. “Not my family. You’ve met them.”

“People
change, Ryan. Give them another chance. You have to get used to each other
again. Besides, would it really hurt to be friends with the mayor?” He winked.

That reminded me
about my lunch with Ashley. I felt there was more he wasn’t telling me. Maybe
getting closer to my family was the only way to see all the skeletons in our
closets. “You really want me to have dinner with them?”

“Yes, and
without me this time. I think I add another layer of discomfort.”

“I’ll consider
it once my living situation is in order. I can only manage one hurdle at a
time.” I looked around the room at the various groups of doctors sitting
together. “Is it okay for you to be fraternizing with me?”

A sly smile
slid across his face. “Is that what I’m doing?” I rolled my eyes, and he
continued. “You aren’t my patient. I don’t see problem.”

A woman in a
suit and efficient heels approached our table, carrying a clipboard. “Excuse
me,” she said to me and looked at Jack. “May I talk to you for a moment, Dr.
Sadler?”

Jack nodded as
he stood up. “Ryan, this is our hospital administrator, Melinda Schaffer.
Melinda, this is Ryan Sterling.”

Melinda looked
back at me, suddenly brimming with interest. She extended her bony hand with
blood red fingernails in my direction. “What brings you to the hospital, Ms.
Sterling? I hope things are well. If there’s anything I can do for you, please
let me know.” She handed me a business card she seemed to produce out of thin air.

“My aunt is
Dr. Sadler’s patient,” I told her begrudgingly, hoping this didn’t mean she’d
be in to check on us all the time now.

“I’ll be right
back,” Jack said as he stepped over to the side with Melinda. She asked him
something about what was on the clipboard. Then she glanced back at me and
smiled before she left. He sat back down. “Sorry about that. Now where were we?
Oh yes,
fraternizing
, I believe.” He waggled his eyebrows, which made me
laugh. His eyes drifted to Melinda’s business card on the table. “This is the
first time she’s given her business card to a member of one of my patient’s
family.”

I shrugged. “Apparently
my parents gave five million dollars to the hospital back in ‘86 to build a
maternity ward.”

Jack raised
his eyebrow and nodded. “That makes more sense.”

I leaned
toward him and beckoned him with my finger. He leaned in too, smiling. “So how
much money would I have to give to see the ninth floor?” I asked in my sexiest,
throaty voice.

Jack leaned
back and cleared his throat. “So when does Vivian move in?” He gave me a
pointed look, obviously not willing to talk about the ghosts now. “You don’t
seem like the roommate type.”

I shrugged. “She’s
lonely and I understand that. I’ve never lived alone, and we get along …Besides
I owe her.”

“How?”

“For all the
help she’s given me. She even suckered Blair into moving the rest of the boxes
out of the apartment for us, but I didn’t get the impression that she likes
dogs, so it may be short lived.”