When Hearts Collide - By James, Kendra Page 0,21
institutionalized. Devoid of humans, it looked sad and forlorn. Molly let out her breath and kept walking.
She was just a few feet from the intensive care unit when a stately, white-haired woman stopped her. She recognized her from the photo on Pearce Taylor’s desk. “Mrs. Nesbitt?”
“Yes.”
The woman looked as austere as her picture. Molly felt as if she’d just walked under an air-conditioning vent. Was it only an illusion, or had the woman’s aquiline nose really lifted an inch when she addressed her.
“You are Molly Tanner?”
“Yes.” She stretched out her hand, but the woman didn’t seem to notice. Molly retracted her hand and put it behind her back where Gracie was hiding. “I was at the accident scene and called the ambulance. I stayed with Gracie last night.”
Molly tried to pull the child out from behind her legs. “Gracie, say hello to your grandmother.” The child looked at the woman, but refused to speak. “Sorry, she’s upset about her father. Will you be staying at the house with her, or taking her to your home?”
“Excuse me?”
Molly wondered if the woman was hard of hearing. “Will you be taking Gracie with you?”
“Oh, no. I can’t look after the child.”
“But she’s your granddaughter,” Molly blurted out.
This time it was no illusion that the woman’s nose tipped upward.
“Pearce will pay you to look after her,” said Mrs. Nesbitt.
“No, I can’t stay.”
“Why? You’re not working now.”
Molly’s head jerked up, and she stared at the woman. “How do you know that?”
Mrs. Nesbitt shrugged her thin shoulders. “Money has its benefits. My lawyer checked you out, Miss Tanner.”
Molly gasped. “Your lawyer?”
“Oh, yes, dear. One can never be too careful. Now, I know about that little bit of trouble at the hospital.” Her multi-ringed fingers fluttered like butterfly wings. “But I’ve spoken to Doctor Braithwaite.”
“Doctor Braithwaite?” Molly started at hearing the name of Saint Christopher’s director. Did he even know about her suspension from the hospital?
“Why would you do that?”
“He’s an old family friend. He doesn’t believe a word of it. Says you are totally trustworthy. Says it must be a mistake. It just needs to be straightened out.” Her hand fluttered again. “Pearce will pay you well.”
“But I can’t stay.”
“You don’t have another job, do you?”
Molly sighed. “No. Not yet.”
“You could use the money, right?” Her eyebrows arched in a peak that almost reached the line of her professionally coifed white hair.
Molly thought of her condo and the payments she would have to keep up until she was back to work. She had some savings, but it wouldn’t take long before they were eaten up. And she had no idea what type of job she could get, and when. If she stayed here until Pearce Taylor came home, she wouldn’t have to pay for lodging and could add to her savings.
“You want me to stay, someone you don’t even know, to look after your granddaughter?”
“Well, I can’t do it. I’m leaving on an extended cruise tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry,” Molly said. “I can’t do it.”
“Mrs. Taylor?” A nurse opened the door of the Intensive Care Unit. “Mr. Taylor is waiting for you and Gracie.”
“I have to take Gracie to see her father.” Molly lifted the child into her arms and hurried after the nurse.
The familiar scent of hospital antiseptics, sanitizers, and germicides was somehow comforting—her territory, her home court advantage. It gave her the courage she needed to face the unknown.
He thought he was dreaming again. There were times when his mind was so fuzzy he didn’t know whether he was awake or not. He had two recurring dreams. One a nightmare where his car was careening off the road. In the other, a red-haired vision was pulling him out of his car, hovering over him, stroking his head, whispering in his ear. Now, he didn’t know if he was still in the dream. He thought his eyes were open, but here was the apparition standing over him. Was she a vision, or a real flesh-and-blood woman?
He peered around the oxygen mask. She smiled shyly down at him. He blinked his eyes, yet the image remained.
There standing at the end of his bed was the angel he’d been dreaming about. But this was no gossamer vision; this was a flesh and blood human with all the attributes of a real woman—fashionable clothes, make up, a whiff of perfume that sent his senses reeling. He blinked his eyes, yet when he opened them again, she was still there. Her image wasn’t fading away. She stood like a sculpture,