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He loved her, and he never told her that simple truth.
And he realized that somewhere in the back of his mind, he had believed he would one day rectify things with Sylvie. It was just a matter of time. Now, perhaps, that time had run out.
He was the biggest fool on the planet.
THE FLIGHT TO ZEKE’S BEND and the drive to the hospital in Rollinsburg felt like it took an eternity. In all actuality, Heath had made even better time than he expected.
He jotted notes on the long flight, thinking about the ways that he could divest his company so he could spend all of his time with the boys. They were his priority.
He couldn’t care less about making money anymore. He already had more than he could spend in a hundred lifetimes.
He made plans to call real estate agents in Zeke’s Bend. He didn’t want to take the boys away from their extensive Jones family. He would do right by the boys.
It was hard to think about Sylvie. He called and called the hospital but the nurse just kept saying she couldn’t give out info if he wasn’t Sylvie’s husband or parent or sibling, etc. It was maddening.
None of the Joneses whose numbers he had were answering their phones. He must have left a hundred messages begging, then demanding, they call him.
It killed him he had no news about Sylvie. He would have called in a team of experts from all over the world, but he couldn’t do that if he didn’t know what kind of experts he needed. Elfleda had told him everything … and nothing.
When the hired car arrived at the hospital, Heath shot out of it like a cannonball. He careened into the waiting room and dashed up to the front desk. He ran his hands through his hair as the nurse took her time ending her phone call.
What if he was too late? He couldn’t be too late. Sylvie was going to fine. Just fine.
The nurse finally hung up and he asked for Sylvie’s room number. It took a lifetime for her to look it up on her computer. He asked how Sylvie was doing and the nurse said she really couldn’t say, whatever the hell that meant.
She did give him Sylvie’s room number, though, and he took the stairs to the fifth floor because he didn’t want to wait for the elevator.
When he emerged from the stairwell, flinging open the fire door, he searched for signs to get his bearings. Left or right? Or straight ahead? Which way?
His heart slammed against his chest wall, and he had a hard time comprehending the different colored lines on the floor and the arrows on the wall.
A dark cloud of foreboding swept over him. He prayed that he wasn’t too late. He finally found the right direction and dashed down the hallway to the left.
He skidded around a corner and found himself right in front of several members of the Jones family. They looked at him with considerable surprise.
He recognized Phae and Neesa sitting in a couple of seats lined against the hallway wall. Will was there with Eli Ford and Aunt Elfleda was dozing in her wheelchair which was parked near Phae.
“Heath?” Eli asked.
Elfleda’s head popped up, coming awake quickly for someone so elderly. She peered at him calmly, the only one who didn’t appear surprised to see him. A wide, satisfied smile stretched across her wrinkled face. Heath had no time to ask why Elfleda was acting Cheshire Cat-ish.
Heath glanced at everyone. “Where is she?”
“Right there,” Phae said, pointing at room 534.
“Is she … awake?” Heath asked, not able to say “alive.”
“No, not yet,” Neesa said. “But …”
Heath didn’t wait to hear any more. She was alive, and that’s all that mattered. The love of his life might be on death’s doorstep, but for now, she was still among the living. He still had time to make things right.
Despite what Elfleda had said, Heath had already decided that he needed to do what he could to make sure that Sylvie had a fighting chance. There was no way that he was going to leave Sylvie’s fate to a couple of suburban doctors.
He pushed his phone at a gaping Will. “Listen, I don’t know your sister’s condition, and I can’t wait right now. So what I need you to do is call my assistant, Jamie. She’s expecting your call and this is all set up.”
Will looked confused. “Why would I —”
“I couldn’t get anyone in this damned place to tell me about Sylvia’s condition. And none of you were answering my calls!” He glanced around and thought Phae and Neesa hung their heads slightly, as if guilty.
Will shrugged. “Yeah, uh, well —”
“That’s not important now. Call Jamie, speed dial two, and tell her about Sylvie. In fact, if you could find her doctor and get him on the phone with Jamie, that would be best. As soon as Jamie knows the score, she’ll call the best doctors in the field and stop at nothing until she gets them on flights out here. So do that. I’ve got to see Sylvie.”
He left a befuddled-looking Will holding Heath’s phone as if it might bite him. He had no more time.
He burst into Sylvie’s room and immediately saw Sachet sitting there holding Sylvie’s hand. Sylvie was sleeping. Several monitors surrounded her bedside and an IV drip ran to her arm. Her color wasn’t great, but she didn’t look too terrible.
He couldn’t see any bandages or other evidence of trauma, but there was a blanket over her and that might be covering up her wounds.
Sachet looked up at him, finely-plucked brows raised. “What are you doing here?”
If she was here, then where were … “Where are my sons?”
“With Meg. What are —”
“I need you to leave,” he said in a quiet voice that brooked no argument.
A look of consternation crossed Sachet’s tired features.
“No, I don’t think so. I’m not going to leave my daughter.”
“I’m going to say this as nicely as possible, Mrs. Ford. I need you to get the hell out of this room right now. I want to speak to Sylvie alone. I’m not asking.”
He expected Sachet to argue with him again, but to her credit, she nodded in understanding.
She stood up and stepped aside. Before she left, she said, “I realize I’ve made a lot of mistakes with my children, especially my daughter. But I do love her more than anything. I want to do right by her, and I want her to be happy. If you make her happy, then I’ve got no complaints.”
She patted his arm in a disarming, motherly way and then quietly took her leave.
Heath was astonished. He had expected more of a fight. Perhaps realizing she could lose her daughter had led her to a breakthrough about what was really important.
Kind of like Heath, himself.
Chapter Thirty Two
HEATH SLOWLY STEPPED BESIDE SYLVIE’S bed. He looked down at her. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully. He reached over and gently touched her hair, smoothing it away from her face. She looked like an angel.
He was reminded of the very first night he saw her in Chicago. He had known then that she was the girl he was supposed to marry. Fate had hit him over the head with the message, so why had he been so stupid and let her go?
He had her and a family ready made for him, and then he let a gross misunderstanding come between him and what mattered most.
He’d been stubborn. He realized that now. She’d apologized, in her own way. And he wouldn’t let it go. It was his fault their argument got out of hand. He hated when moments of brilliant insight came at the worst possible times. Perhaps even coming too late.
He sat down next to Sylvie’s bed and took her hand in his. He stared at it. It was so small and delicate, so refined. He loved the shape of her fingers. They were tapered perfectly down to the tips of her painted nails. She had the hands of a princess.
He held that hand against his cheek and tried to pass some of his strength to her through the connection of flesh-to-flesh.
All he ever wanted was take care of her and the boys. He heard Elfleda’s voice in his head, demanding he finally tell Sylvie the truth. He needed to tell her the words that would give
her peace if she crossed over.
God no. But just in case, he couldn’t let her leave him without hearing his feelings for her.
“Baby, I’m here.” He figured that was the best way to start, although she was unconscious. He knew that she might still be able to hear him, even if she were in a coma.
“You’re going to be just fine, Sylvie. I have the best doctors in the country on their way here. Just hang in there until they get here.” His voice almost broke so he stopped talking for a moment to pull himself together. The last thing he wanted was to upset her.
There was so much he wanted to say. He was a better man because of Sylvie, and he had foolishly never told her that. Instead, he backed her into a corner and forced her to fight her way out because she was afraid of him.
In the end, he acted exactly like the person she feared he would be when she learned his name. He couldn’t blame her for wanting to stay away from him. Hell, he didn’t want to be around himself, either.
“You don’t have to worry about a thing, Sylvie,” he said. “I don’t want you to worry about anything but getting better. I’ll take care of the boys. I can do that, thanks to the way you helped me learn how to be a father. I’m sorry for everything that I said during that god-awful argument. I didn’t mean it, not really.”
“I screwed up. Royally,” he said, emphasizing the word. “I know I’m not the best example all the time of a model parent, which I know you were worried about. But I love the boys. I do. So much. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you that before.”
