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After all, he wasn’t known for his longevity, and had confessed he was feeling something more. Nadia also questioned what she was feeling. Her attraction to Sawyer went beyond physical, and it was deeper than anything she had felt before. Did he have her heart too? She wasn’t sure, but she was fine with allowing enough time to know the answer. They hadn’t put an end date on their stay, or their relationship, so there was plenty of time to figure out where they were going.
Chapter Ten
She must have fallen asleep, because frantic voices woke her. Nadia was immediately awake, fully alert, and realized she was lying on the blanket with her head on the ground.
She sat up, her gaze focusing unerringly on the four people on the other side of the large blanket. Caitlin, Kiersten, and Sawyer were gathered around Harold, who was pale and lying prone. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?”
Sawyer looked up, his face grim. “We thought he was napping, but when Mom went to wake him a couple of minutes ago, he wasn’t responding. Kiersten called nine-one-one, but we’re not sure what’s wrong.”
She licked her lips, stomach tight with dread. “Did you check his pulse?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” said Caitlin, sounding surprisingly calm. “Thready, but it’s there. Father is definitely breathing, but it’s difficult to say what the problem is. I didn’t realize he had any problems.” The other woman’s voice broke. “He had a stroke six years ago, but he recovered fairly well, aside from his left leg being too weak to do much walking.”
The paramedics arrived a few minutes later, and Caitlin’s calm façade crumbled as soon as they were there. Tears welled in her eyes, and Sawyer and Kiersten hugged her, tears visible on their own cheeks too. With the start, Nadia reached up to find moisture on her face, and a blink of her eyes released a few more tears. The older man had grown on her in the week they had been there, and Nadia realized she would hurt along with the rest of his family if he didn’t make it. In a way, it would be like losing her father all over again.
Chapter Eleven
They followed the ambulance to the hospital, where the waiting began. Nadia had never spent much time in the hospital before, at least not that she remembered. Her mother had died at home with hospice care, and her father had been in robust health before his boat sank. She’d heard other people’s stories, of how the hours seemed to pass so slowly, filled with nothing but stilted conversation and stale vending machine coffee.
After two hours of sitting in the waiting room, her hand grasped tightly in Sawyer’s, she decided the stories were accurate. Except for the coffee. They actually had decent coffee, with it being San Francisco, but it was no compensation for having to sit and wait to find out if someone they loved would survive.
Finally, after what seemed like half the night, but was probably no more than two or three hours in total, a harried-looking young doctor came into the waiting area and called their names. They disengaged from the other groups of families waiting for news and followed the physician into a smaller private room with a couch and two chairs.
They sat down on the couch, and his mother and sister took the chairs on either side. The doctor sat behind his desk, looking at the computer screen for a moment before turning to them. “Mr. Wedgwood has suffered a stroke.”
Caitlin gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth, but apparently had no more tears left to shed. “Is he going to make it?” she asked in a shaky voice.
The doctor hesitated. “If he makes it through the night, his odds are much better. It was a massive bleed, but he stabilized. He’s still listed as critical for the moment, and he’ll be closely observed in the critical care unit. We’ll know more tomorrow, especially if he wakes up. There are further tests to schedule, and we’ll need to repeat the MRI and other lab work several times to determine the level of permanent damage, if any.”
“But if he gets through tonight, his chances are pretty good?” asked Caitlin. The hope in her eyes was heartbreaking.
Again, the frizzy-haired doctor hesitated before nodding. “More than likely, he’ll make it if he survives tonight. Considering his age, and his previous history of stroke, he’s doing better than we would expect. He seems to be a fighter, so let’s see if he can get through tonight.”
“He’s definitely a fighter,” said Kiersten with a strong note of affection. “Grandfather will make it, Mom. I just know he will.”
Nadia hoped Kiersten’s optimism was warranted, but she didn’t reply. Sawyer hadn’t spoken either, but he was holding on to her hand for dear life, as though she was the only thing anchoring him at the moment. She put her other arm around his back and hugged him, offering the only thing she could under the circumstances. She didn’t have a cure for Harold, but she could just be there for Sawyer and his family.
“May we see him?” asked Caitlin.
“Not tonight, Mrs. Wedgwood.”
“Sinclair,” corrected Caitlin, seemingly with an air of unconsciousness about doing so. “But we can in the morning?”
The doctor’s expression softens, and he nodded. “If Mr. Wedgwood makes it through the night, you can all see him in the morning bright and early.” He lifted a hand, as he added, “Please call first before you come in. I don’t want you to waste a trip if his status hasn’t changed. Of course, if he worsens, we’ll call you tonight.”
Caitlin frowned. “You expect me to just go home and wait? I need to be here.”
The doctor sighed, looking frazzled again. “It’s up to you if you want to sleep in the uncomfortable waiting room, ma’am, but there’s nothing you can do.”
She straightened her spine. “I can be available if he starts to pass away. Otherwise, we live more than an hour away. We’d never make it back before...”
Sawyer cleared his throat, speaking for the first time. “Mom, you can’t rest here, but none of us wants to be that far away. We’ll take a hotel room across the street.” Caitlin nodded, clearly finding the solution satisfactory. They left the private waiting area a moment later to venture across the street.
They all looked exhausted, and just emotionally worn out, so Nadia handled the check-in. She secured three rooms, not even considering not sharing with Sawyer. She suspected he needed physical comfort, and she could use a strong dose of it herself. That didn’t mean sex. She just wanted to hold him, and vice versa.
After acquiring key cards that she distributed, they went to their rooms, parting with a tired, “Good night.” It was strange how exhausted they all were, but she supposed it was more of an emotional than physical lethargy.
They hadn’t been particularly active for the afternoon, but the adrenaline rush of getting Harold to the hospital, followed by the crash of waiting, coupled with the lack of answers about his prognosis, had worn them all down. Even she was feeling it, and she wasn’t as close to Harold as the rest of them were.
