The House on Hope Street - By Danielle Steel Page 0,84
in the shower.
“He should wake up in a few minutes. He did fine upstairs. We put him out so fast he never knew what hit him.” She couldn't help but remember how gruff he'd been with her the first time they met, and notice how gentle he was with Jamie now. He was a man of a million facets. And Megan calling him a “brute” made her wince even more than before. It had been inexcusable, and she knew it. “Do you want a cup of coffee while he wakes up? It might be a little while, maybe twenty minutes.”
“Do you have time?” She didn't want to impose on him. She knew how busy he was, and he had already spent nearly two hours with Jamie.
“I have time,” he said, leading her down the hall to a room where the ER doctors relaxed between cases. But there was no one in the room when they got there. And he handed her a steaming cup of coffee. “He'll be fine, Liz, don't worry about him.”
“Thanks for being so nice to him. I appreciate it a lot. He was scared to death when I got here.”
Bill smiled as he nodded and poured himself a cup of coffee. “He damn near screamed the house down. I wondered what was happening, that's why I came over. Great set of lungs on Master Jamie.” She smiled, and their eyes met. But neither of them acknowledged more than Jamie's broken arm. And it was obvious that they felt awkward with each other. He looked as though he had lost weight too, and he seemed pale and tired, but Christmas was busy for him. There were lots of drunk drivers and broken hips and traumas she couldn't even dream of, like what had happened to Justin, and now Jamie. Though Bill usually only handled the major disasters, like Peter's accident. “You look well,” he said finally, and she nodded, not sure what to respond to him. She could hardly tell him that she thought of him night and day and had figured out how much she loved him. It was a little late for that.
“You must be busy over the holidays,” she said to make idle conversation. Everything else she could have said sounded either argumentative or pathetic. And there was no point trying to sell him something he knew he didn't want. If he had wanted it, or changed his mind, he would have called. His silence was the final message. And she heard it loud and clear.
“I am pretty busy. How's Peter?” He was keeping the conversation to neutral topics, like his patient.
“As good as new,” she smiled, “and madly in love.”
“Good for him. Tell him I said hi.” With that, he looked at his watch and suggested they go back to Jamie. “He should be wide awake now.” He was, and he was asking for Bill and his mother, and he smiled when he saw them. “You didn't forget your promise, did you, champ?” Jamie shook his head with a broad grin, and Bill whipped a marker out of his pocket. He wrote a little poem to him, and drew a little dog, and then signed it, and Jamie was ecstatic.
“You were first, Bill, I promised!”
“You sure did.” Bill smiled at him, and then hugged him, as Liz watched them, feeling her heart ache. This was what she had lost when he walked out of her life on Thanksgiving. But she already knew exactly what she had lost, and there was nothing she could do about it. He had made up his mind.
“You never flew your kite with me,” Jamie said, as he looked at him, and Bill looked a little startled, and then dismayed.
“You're right, I didn't. I'll call your mom someday, and we'll take it out for a spin. Maybe after you get your cast off. How does that sound?”
“Good.” He nodded, satisfied, and Bill lifted him off the gurney, and set him gently on his feet.
“Now, will you stay off that ladder for me?” Jamie nodded, his eyes filled with admiration. Bill was his hero. “And don't climb the Christmas tree either.”
“Mom won't let me.”
“I'm glad to hear it. Now, say hi to Peter and your sisters for me. I'll see you soon, Jamie. Merry Christmas.”
“My daddy died on Christmas,” Jamie informed him, and Liz felt her heart flinch. It was a reminder none of them needed.
“I know,” Bill said respectfully. “I'm sorry, Jamie.”