Royally Claimed - By Marie Donovan Page 0,54
several hours at the emergency room last night were not what I call the perfect ending to a perfect day. I’d like to make it up to you.”
“Okay, then.” Julia was willing to be talked out of a day of painting over deep red paint splotches. She locked the front door and made sure it closed tightly. Without Senhor de Sousa to keep an eye on things, she would have to rely on mechanical theft deterrents. “Frank, we should call the hospital before we go…wherever we’re going. I want to know how Senhor de Sousa is doing, but I wasn’t sure if anyone there spoke English.”
“I already stopped there this morning after I traded the motorcycle for the car.” He held her elbow with his free hand as they descended the outside stairs. “He is doing about as well as they can expect, but the doctor told me he has excellent chances of nearly full recovery. Your quick reaction allowed them to almost totally dissolve the clot in his brain and prevent further damage.”
“Oh, Frank!” They were on the sidewalk now and she threw her arms around his neck. “How wonderful!” She planted a big smooch on his cheek. “That’s exactly why I went into emergency medicine—saving lives and making a difference.”
“Of course.” His smile seemed a bit strained, and she felt guilty for tooting her own horn thanks to someone else’s misfortune.
“But I wouldn’t have known what was going on without you telling me he was speaking gibberish in Portuguese and being able to call the ambulance so quickly.”
He put her bag in the backseat of the loaner car, a white compact. “I can call the hospital later since you will want to follow the progress of your patient. But he’s in the best of hands at the hospital, so you can put your mind at ease.” He opened the passenger door and settled her into the seat.
“Thank you, Frank.”
“No thanks necessary.” He went around to the driver’s side and started the engine.
“Where did you say we’re going?”
“I didn’t.” He grinned at her and acted as a tour guide, pointing out various historic churches and government buildings as they cruised across town. The scent of flowers floated into the car on a gentle breeze stirring the morning air. She sighed in happiness.
“Are we going back to the park for more pastries?”
“Pastries and kisses?” he teased.
Her face heated and she swatted his thigh. He covered her hand with his. “Not here, meu bem. I have to concentrate on my driving.”
“Frank!” She yanked her hand back and crossed her arms over her chest.
“You can distract me later.” But the traffic did thicken as they passed through the crowded center of town, braking for pedestrians and reckless drivers as they went.
“This is the road to the airport. Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Nope.” But that was all he’d say despite her pestering him the rest of the way into the airport parking lot and finally the terminal.
He stopped in front of the counter that listed that its next flight was to the island of Terceira. “Terceira!” she squealed. “Frank, I haven’t been to Terceira since I was a kid.” That island, about ninety miles from São Miguel, was home to a small joint Portuguese–U.S. Air Force base where her dad had been stationed for a couple of years. The Azores had been an important refueling pit stop for transatlantic flights ever since the 1930s.
Their flight to Terceira on a small commuter plane was short but slightly bumpy. Fortunately Julia had taken more airplane rides than ninety percent of the population and wasn’t fazed at all. She did enjoy holding his hand, even if she wasn’t nervous.
They touched down smoothly on the runway and within a few minutes were driving away in a small rental car. “The airport’s much different than I remember—they’ve remodeled it since we were last here.”
“Nothing stays the same,” Frank told her. “Not even my villa on Belas Aguas that was firmly stuck in the past, décor-wise.”
“Benedito did his best to update that. And we still need to tackle his Experiments in Red, kind of like Picasso’s Blue Period. Or maybe not.”
He groaned. “Oh, yes, he’s just too avant-garde and hip for a stuffy aristocrat like me.”
Julia laughed. “You just can’t appreciate an artiste ahead of his time.”
“Here’s the base entrance. Would you like to see if they’ll let us drive onto the base?”
“That would be wonderful.” After being thoroughly vetted from their driver’s licenses and the