Angel Falling (Falling #1)(4)

“You love men.” I snaked the phone from his hands to get a better look and was surprised by the beauty of the lush landscapes. Ranches always seemed like they’d be full of dirt and cows, like in a western movie featuring John Wayne, not something right out of The Sound of Music. The land highlighted rolling green hills with more trees than could be counted and a creek that ran alongside the property line.

“No. Correction my dear, I love beautiful men. Cowboys make me tingle, though.” He fanned his hands in front of his face as if he were having a hot flash.

“Did you get me the information I need to gain access to Mr. Jensen? I have to know that he will be okay. Also, what did Legal say?”

“I can get you access, but it’s going to cost you.”

“Oliver, everyone has a price.” I grinned and looked at him sideways. “What’s the price?”

“Well, on the way over I called the Dean of Medicine and told her the situation, expressed your concern and your interest in the patient’s well-being.”

“Get to the point, Ollie.”

“Alright, alright. You’re going to have to make a hefty charitable donation.”

“Done. How much?”

“Well, they need some new machines … ”

“How much?” My patience was wearing thin and Oliver could tell.

“One hundred.” He looked away and stiffened.

“Fine. Have my accountant cut the check. This man saved my life …” My eyes started to tear up but I fended off the waterworks by standing and adjusting my shoulders. “Who do we need to see?”

“Excuse me, Ms. Reynolds?” A redheaded woman in an ugly suit that was too big for her petite frame approached us.

“Yes, I’m Ms. Reynolds. And you are?”

She held her hand out to shake mine. “Jane Maxwell, Dean of Medicine. I’m sorry we’re meeting under these circumstances.” Her eyes were warm and sincere. Then again, when you were about to be gifted one hundred thousand dollars, a personal visit from the Dean could be expected.

I cut right to the point. “This is my assistant, Oliver. He will be taking care of making a one-hundred-thousand-dollar donation on my behalf.” There was no reason to waste time. Time that could be spent making sure Hank Jensen survived.


“Oh, my! We can’t thank you enough.” Her eyes and smile seemed proportionately large on her round face. “A gift of that size will do wonders for our children’s oncology division.”

I looked over at Oliver, a questioning eyebrow pointed as high as the sky. He looked away, face beet red. He had lied. The woman never gave an amount to him by phone. Probably never mentioned a donation either. He just wanted me to donate to the children’s ward. Oliver had been a leukemia survivor as a child and was always dragging me to events related to cancer and children. Sneaky.

“Happy to help, Ms. Maxwell. Now, if you could help me, I want to know what’s going on with Hank Jensen? Can I see him?”

“He’s in surgery now, but I’ll take you up and ensure you’re approved access to him when he’s in recovery. We couldn’t find any familial contact information, and since your office seems to have more information than we do, it only seems fitting you be granted access.” She winked at me then turned on her heel. “Follow me.”

As we followed the Dean of Medicine, I leaned over and whispered into Oliver’s ear, “You’re going to pay for that one.”

“I always do.” His smile widened and I shook my head in mock indignation.

Once we were settled in the waiting room, I grilled Oliver on Hank’s next of kin and tried to call the number on file. The phone rang nonstop, with no answering machine picking up. In this day and age, I’d think everyone on the planet had voicemail. Apparently not. I returned countless emails from my smartphone and had Oliver cancel all my meetings for the day.

We spent three hours in the waiting room before the surgeon approached us. He was suited from head to bootie-covered toes in medical scrubs. Ms. Maxwell flanked his side.

“Ms. Reynolds? I’m Dr. Nicholls.”

I shook his hand. “How’s Mr. Jensen?” Worry wracked my tone, making it sound as if my throat was laced with sandpaper.

“He’s doing very well. We were able to remove the pipe that went through the connective tissue in his shoulder.”

“Oh my God. You mean the pipe went in one side of his body and out the other?”

“To an extent, yes. We removed it. We were able to reattach the tissues of his shoulder and stitch both the entry and exit wounds up nicely. He’s been in recovery for the past thirty minutes. Should wake up any time now.”

“So he’s going to be okay? What happens next?”

“He’ll need a good four-to-six weeks of recovery to let the tissue heal properly, need to wear a sling to limit mobility. Then another six weeks of physical therapy. We’ll have to check his stitches weekly for infection. The bandage will need changing twice daily. He’s going to need help over the first two weeks after he leaves the hospital.”

I closed my eyes, relieved. Oliver supported me as I said a silent prayer, thanking God he survived. He was hurt, and would spend the next weeks recovering, but he’d recover. That was the important thing. “I’ll make sure he has around-the-clock care.”