Leaping Hearts(73)

They shared a moment of understanding.

“After my accident, after Mercy was put down, Ches understood that I needed to be alone. He always said he’d be back. I never believed him. That’s one of the reasons you’re so special to me,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand. “You came into my life and opened everything up. And you’re the only one other than Chester that I’ve felt I could trust.”

She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. It was a bare whisper of contact, a soft sliding of their mouths, a vow full of love.

A.J. felt him squeeze her hand and then watched as he leaned his head back and shut his eyes as if he were exhausted. She stared at him for a long time, rerunning parts of the conversation back in her head. She was deeply affected by what he’d said and had the sense that a lot of it had never been revealed to anyone before.

Eventually, she glanced up at the TV and noted the soap opera was still droning on. She tried to remember the name of the series. Wings of Faith?

No, that wasn’t it.

She watched the characters parade around in glamorous clothes, gesticulate wildly, occasionally kiss or slap one another, and found she was able to keep up with the stories even without the sound. Every now and again, she’d come back to reality as someone in a doctor’s coat or nurse’s uniform would cut through the room. Most of the time, the medical staff just walked over to the vending machine. The sound of metal clinks as change was dropped in the slot and the whirling noise as food was kicked off the reserve bench became all too familiar.

She turned back to the soap. Damned if she could recall the name.

Wings of Fortune?

After a time, Devlin stretched, got up and went to the nurses’ station like a man on an expedition into the wilderness. He returned minutes later, empty-handed. A.J. looked away so he wouldn’t see her disappointment.

Up above, the soap came to a finale, with some woman putting white powder into a man’s cocktail. The closing credits read, Wings of Fate.

Over the next several hours, she and Devlin were joined and deserted by the families of other patients. People came and went, the cast of characters in the room changing and yet remaining the same. Everyone was going through a similar loss of control, desperately waiting for an answer, some news, some kind of hope. And none of them knew who was going to get their life back and who was never going to be the same again.

Finally, after she’d decided her butt was so numb it would never regain feeling, one of the white coats called out Chester’s name. She and Devlin leapt to their feet, the room dissolving away as they searched the doctor’s face for clues.

He was too young to be making life-and-death decisions, A.J. thought at first. Then she saw that his eyes were very old behind delicate, gold-wire glasses.

“Are you the family?” the physician asked with a heavy Southern accent.

“Is he all right? What’s going on?” Devlin demanded.

“You’re Devlin and A.J.?”

They nodded.

“We think we know what the problem is. Come with me.

Following their white coat redeemer from the hell of the waiting room, they went through Star Trek doors into the real hustle and bustle of the emergency department. Rushing around, everyone seemed to know where they were going and, compared with the stillness of where Devlin and A.J. had been, the urgency was overwhelming but reassuring.

The physician led them over to one of the treatment bays, which was sectioned off by thick white curtains to provide privacy. They braced themselves for what was on the other side.

When the drapery was pushed aside, they stopped dead.

Chester was sitting up and smiling, as chipper and alert as a daisy.

“For chrissake,” he said, “don’t just stand there. One a’ them nurses might see me in this getup an’ be overcome by m’ physical attractions.”

As they went to his bedside, A.J. didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In spite of the tubes coming out of his body and all the machines whirling around him, the man looked fine. His color was back and his eyes were free of the terrifying opaqueness of pain. She promptly burst into tears, having prepared herself for everything but the man’s being all right.

Chester and the doctor looked at her awkwardly. Devlin put an arm around her, holding her tight.

“What the hell happened?” he asked.

The doctor began to explain, using medical terms that didn’t register.

“Cajun gumbo got me a good one,” Chester interrupted, grinning.

“What?” Devlin pegged the doctor with a stare.

“In plain English, gastric distress.”

“Indigestion? As in the plop, plop, fizz, fizz variety?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. He suffers from acid reflux that—”

“M’ crawfish backed up on me.” Chester shot them all a cheeky grin as Devlin laughed out loud with relief.

“Actually, it is a real concern,” the doctor said. “He’s got to change his eating habits or this will happen again. His cholesterol is too high and he’s not as young as he thinks he is. He needs to cut back on his physical labor and eat better.”

“I told you this was going to happen.” Devlin was shaking his head. “All that hot, spicy food finally caught up with you. Just because you stick with the bland stuff for breakfast doesn’t mean you can go hog wild in the afternoon.”