Summer on Blossom Street (Blossom Street #6)(63)

Her words had a sobering effect on him. “You’re right, of course,”

he said. “Listen, Phoebe, Dad asked if you’d come and see him. Will you do that? You know how special you are to my father.”

“Of course I’ll visit him.”

“Would it be possible for you to come now?” Clark asked softly.

“Now?”

“Please. It would mean the world to Dad.”

“I…I suppose.”

Clark gave her Max’s room number at Swedish Hospital, which she wrote down on a pad near the phone. “I have one request,” she said.

“Anything.”

Clark was acting far too agreeable. Perhaps she was being cynical, but past experience had taught her he wasn’t to be trusted.

“If I go to see your father now, you can’t be there.”

“But…” Clark hesitated.

“Agreed?”

“Phoebe, I—”

“That’s my stipulation and either you agree or I’ll arrange another time to come by the hospital.” She’d visit Max during working hours because the one thing she could count on was that Clark wouldn’t show up if it interfered with law-f irm business. Again he paused. “You’ve changed, Phoebe.”

She wouldn’t deny it. “Thanks to you, I’m not the same gullible woman I used to be. I refuse to play your games anymore.”

His tone sobered. “My father’s close to dying, Phoebe. This isn’t a game.”

“I’ll come, Clark, but if you’re anywhere in the vicinity, I guarantee you I’ll walk right out the door.”

Clark laughed.

“You think this is amusing?” she demanded irritably. She refused to let Clark manipulate her as he so often had in the past.

“I like the new you,” he said, cajoling her. “I’ve seen that stubborn streak before, but there’s a new determination in you that intrigues me. If this is how you want it, Phoebe, then so be it.”

“I mean it, Clark.”

“I don’t doubt you for a moment. I won’t be anywhere near the hospital. I promise.”

She wasn’t sure she could trust him and said nothing. If he did

“just happen” to stop by, she’d keep her word. She’d simply leave.

As she hung up the phone, Phoebe closed her eyes. Why Max wanted to see her right now, she couldn’t begin to guess. Was his condition really so dire that she had to rush to the hospital immediately?

Reaching for her sweater and purse, Phoebe hurried to the parking garage. All the way to the hospital, she resisted the urge to call Hutch and tell him about this unexpected turn of events. But she couldn’t discuss Clark with Hutch because he thought her f iancé was dead. That was the problem with a lie: it occasioned other lies and soon you’d created an ever-increasing spiral of them. And when it came to revealing the truth—well, that was diff icult. She’d wanted to tell him; Hutch deserved to know about Clark. Yet she hadn’t. She was afraid her deception would taint their relationship. And the longer she delayed, the more embarrassing and awkward the truth became. Phoebe found a parking spot on a street that would be well lit once the sun went down and walked the short distance to Swedish Hospital. She wasn’t all that far from Blossom Street. Really, when she thought about it, she had a great deal for which to thank Clark. If not for him, she would never have met Alix, Lydia and Margaret, or for that matter, Hutch. Just thinking about him produced a sense of anticipation. She had Max Snowden’s room number, so Phoebe took the elevator directly to his f loor and entered the surgical ward. In the room, Phoebe found Marlene Snowden sitting by her husband’s bedside, holding his hand. Thankfully, Clark was nowhere in sight.

When she saw Phoebe, Clark’s mother released Max’s hand and rose to her feet. “Phoebe! I’m so grateful you’re here.”

Max opened his eyes and smiled, stretching out his arm. “My dear.”

“Oh, Max.” He looked pale and weak, so unlike the robust man she’d known. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

“He’s going to get better soon. It’s only a matter of time before he’s back on the golf course and we’re dancing at the country club again. Isn’t that right, Max?” Marlene gazed down at her husband. “Of course, we’ll be making some small lifestyle changes and—”

“Yes, Marlene,” her husband said, cutting her off. Marlene Snowden sighed. “I know Max wants to talk to you privately,” she said, patting her husband’s hand, “so I’ll leave you to chat.” She leaned forward and kissed Max on the brow. “I’ll go get a cup of coffee.”

Phoebe watched her go, then turned to Max. “What can I do for you?” she asked, frankly curious.

“You know I’ve always loved you,” Max said hoarsely. Phoebe nodded; the affection was mutual.

“I’m the one who talked you into taking Clark back the f irst time.”

“Yes,” she acknowledged. Pressure had come from all sides, including her own mother, but it was Max who’d convinced her to give Clark another chance. “You were so sure it would never happen again. Only it did, Max, and frankly I don’t think Clark will ever stop.”

Max shook his head in disgust. “My son can be an idiot.”