One More Chance Read online

  He paused. Ben said nothing, just stared stupidly, trying to absorb the finality of the situation.

  "She carried an organ donor card," the doctor said gently. "If we're going to be able to use her kidneys, they'll have to be taken soon."

  "No! You're not going to cut up my baby!" Melanie's mother had caught the doctor's last sentence and she threw herself at Ben. He fell back but not before her nails raked his face, leaving red tracks down one cheek.

  Melanie's father restrained his sobbing wife, but her assault seemed to pull Ben out of his stupor, as if the drawing of blood had somehow brought him back to consciousness.

  He gave the order to detach Melanie from the respirator; even her parents had to agree finally that Melanie was gone, and had been virtually from the moment of impact. The hatred in her mother's eyes burned into Ben's back as he walked away from the intensive care unit for the last time… and right into the nearest bar.

  He stayed drunk for twenty-four hours, sobered up for Melanie's funeral, resigned from the San Francisco P.D. and started drinking again…

  "Mr. Ware? Mr. Ware, where is my mother?"

  Ben opened his eyes and stared into the frightened face of Paige Robinson. He frowned and blinked; for a moment he thought he was seeing things.

  She was the image of her mother at about the same age, the age when Ben had known her best. Brown hair curled softly around Paige's shoulders and big hazel eyes stared out of an oval face. She pressed her lips together, but not before he saw them tremble.

  "You're Juliana's daughter," he said, his voice even more gruff than usual. "I'd know you anywhere, Paige."

  She frowned and glanced over her shoulder at the woman who followed. He'd known Stella Davis for years. She'd been a friend of his sister's.

  Stella put an arm around the girl's shoulders. "Ben and your mama go way back," she said gently.

  Paige nodded. "I just want to see my mother," she said in that same stiff voice. "I don't understand what's happened. She was fine this morning, not sick or anything. Mother doesn't even have colds, for heaven's sake. How can she be… here?" The girl gestured helplessly at nothing in particular.

  Looking at Juliana's daughter, Ben thought of his own child, dead these three long years. The stark horror he'd felt then showed now on the girl's dazed face. He longed to comfort her, didn't know how, so he tried to speak with calm authority. "The doctors are running tests now. They'll be able to tell us something soon."

  Paige recoiled. "Us? Now that I'm here, you don't have to stay, Mr. Ware." She spoke with great dignity. "I appreciate all you've done, but you're not needed."

  Don't have to stay? Did she think this was his idea of a good time? he wondered. His outraged glance slammed into her, and her measured flow of words ceased abruptly. She caught her breath and took a step back.

  The arrival of a doctor in surgical greens defused the tense moment. "Robinsons?"

  Ben and Stella looked at Paige.

  "I'm Paige Robinson. How is my mother? Can you tell me what's wrong with her?"

  "That we can, little lady." The doctor gestured to a grouping of chairs and everyone moved obediently to sit.

  "I'm Dr. Crow and I'm a neurosurgeon. We've performed a number of tests on your mother." He patted Paige's hand.

  "Is it bad?" Her lips looked stiff and white.

  "It's not good. We've done a CAT scan and an angiogram and we know now that your mother has suffered an intracranial hemorrhage caused by an aneurysm. That's—"

  "Oh, dear God!" Stella's shocked exclamation brought them all swinging around. She looked stricken, but recovered quickly. "I'm sorry. Please go on."

  The doctor nodded. "Yes, well an aneurysm is a weakness in the wall of an artery. It can balloon without warning and rupture very suddenly, as in your mother's case. When the rupture isn't too large we get what we call a warning bleed, and we can go in and clip the artery."

  Relief flooded Paige's face and Ben turned his head, unable to handle such vulnerability.

  "Then she'll be all right!"

  "We hope so. We're doing everything we can, but she's not out of the woods yet. At least we have reason to hope." The doctor patted her hand again and stood up. "We'll have to get her into surgery as quickly as possible. If you'd like to see her before—"

  "Oh, yes!" Paige jumped to her feet, Stella and Ben following suit.

  "Down the hall and turn left." Dr. Crow pointed. "Tell the nurse at the station in front of the double doors that I sent you."

  Paige gave him a distracted nod and hurried out, Stella at her heels. Ben moved to follow, but Dr. Crow stopped him.

  "You're her fiancé, right?"

  Ben barely hesitated over the lie. "That's right."

  "I didn't want to say too much in front of the girl—" Dr. Crow's glance indicated the door through which Paige had just disappeared. "But you have a right to know, Mr. Ware. Juliana may not make it."

  Juliana. The doctor spoke of her as if she were an old friend, Ben thought. And in some ways, he must know her Better than anyone else. He knew her from the inside out.

  The doctor waited patiently. Ben's initial shock passed and the doctor went on.

  "We're getting very little pain response. Her pupils are dilated and her neck is stiff, reflexes almost nil. We did a lumbar puncture and found blood in the spinal fluid—a cerebral angiogram pinpointed the aneurysm. Mr. Ware, are you all right?"

  Ben wasn't all right, not even close to it. A harrowing sense of deja vu threatened to swamp him. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead—he needed a drink! It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to force a curt nod. "She's gotta pull through, Doc," he croaked.

  The doctor gave Ben a measured glance. "We'll do our best, but her situation is extremely grave. I must stress that. If there's anyone else who should be contacted— parents, grandparents, anyone at all—now's the time to do it." He paused and then added, "You can use the phone in my office."

  "I—I'll check with Paige."

  "Do that." Dr. Crow gave Ben's shoulder a supportive squeeze, the same professional comfort he'd offered Paige. "You'll want to see her before we take her to surgery. Come along."

  The doctor led Ben through the gleaming corridors of the hospital and every step drew him further back into a past he'd struggled to forget. He had no business even being here, passing himself off as something he wasn't.

  A gurney wheeled sharply out a room ahead and he saw Juliana, strangely isolated amidst the medical personnel and the dripping I.V. bottles and the sheets and drapes that covered and surrounded and all but buried her. He had a quick impression of her face, white as paper, and then he lost sight of her as the medics rushed the gurney down the hall, hustling as if their lives depended upon it.

  Or hers.

  "Damn!" Dr. Crow started forward, giving Ben a final wave of one hand. "Thought I'd get you here in time— sorry."

  Ben stood there helplessly. Paige appeared in the doorway. He met her angry, frightened gaze.

  "This is all your fault," she said in a quivering voice, her 'dry, burning eyes boring into him. "Are you happy with what you've done?"

  He felt as if she'd kicked him in the gut; all the breath whooshed out of him and he stared at her blankly. All her ,fear and anger focused on him.

  "Mother was worried about meeting with you today. You must have been just awful to cause something so horrible to happen to her!"

  "Paige, no!" Stella appeared in the doorway behind the girl. "You're wrong. Your mother was—is—a professional. Things like that don't even faze her."

  "You're the one who's wrong, Stella." Paige clenched her hands into fists at her sides. She stepped closer to Ben and stared challengingly up into his eyes. "Why don't you say something?" she raged. "This is your fault—admit it!"

  He couldn't argue; maybe she was right.

  At the very least, he was more culpable in Juliana's peril than in his wife's—he'd been there when Juliana was stricken. Maybe there was something he shoul
d have done but didn't, or shouldn't have done and did.

  They were drawing curious glances from medical personnel. As if of one mind, they turned back toward the waiting room.

  Ben found his voice as they walked down the endless corridors. "Maybe it is my fault," he said, thinking aloud more than anything else.

  "Nonsense," Stella said stoutly. "That's not what causes an aneurysm to form, or to rupture."

  "Then what does?" Paige demanded.

  Stella led them into the waiting room and turned toward the stiff-faced girl. "An aneurysm isn't something that happens to you. It's more like…like something you're born with. Like a weak heart."

  Paige snorted. "My mother is healthy as a horse. She's never been sick a day in her life. Something or somebody caused this." She glared at the older woman. "So what makes you such a big expert?"

  She didn't wait for an answer. Turning her back, she marched to the window, her shoulders stiff. Stella started to follow, but Ben put a hand on her arm and shook his head.

  "Leave her alone for a minute," he said, in control of himself again. "Stella, the surgeon suggested that if there's anyone else who should be called about this, we do it now."

  "Oh, dear Jesus." Her face quivered as if ready to crumple, and quick tears sprang to her eyes. "You're not saying…?"

  Ben nodded. "It's serious, real serious. That's all I know."

  "Ben, what Paige said… she's wrong. This isn't your fault."

  Nice try, he thought. "Thanks. I hope you're right."

  At the window, Paige whirled, her expression challenging. "I'm going to call Daddy," she announced as if she expected someone to argue with her. "He'll want to be here."

  Sure he will, Ben thought. Peter would be eager to stand vigil at the bedside of the woman who not only divorced him but turned him down flat when he tried to put the touch on her a few hours ago.

  But regardless of past problems, Pete showed a lot of class. He arrived just as Dr. Crow got out of surgery.

  "So far so good." The doctor sounded cheerful, although he looked tired. His surgical cap was wet with sweat and his face gleamed with it. "We'll be moving her Into the recovery room and then you'll be able to see her. But only for a minute." His glance encompassed all of them. "At least, some of you."

  Pete asked the question Ben couldn't: "What're her chances, Doc?"

  Dr. Crow looked around at the solemn little group. "I'll level with you. Large hemorrhages are fatal within a few days in half the cases. To break that down, twenty percent die before they ever make it to the emergency room and thirty percent die within a couple of weeks."

  Paige's stricken glance swung from the doctor's face to her father's. "But—but that's awful!"

  The doctor looked grim. "I agree, young lady. And even of those who make it, fewer than half survive without disabling neurologic problems. The aftereffects range from total disability to complete recovery for a few lucky ones. But some degree of impairment usually remains, including dysphasia."

  Paige wrung her hands together frantically. "Dys-what? I don't even know what that is."

  "It's simply the breakdown of language." As he spoke, the doctor gently drew her hands into his and held them still. "Dysphasia is a disturbance in the language function following injury to the brain. It can affect talking, understanding, reading, writing, mathematics, memory, that sort of thing, in any degree and any combination."

  "Oh, my God." Paige's voice was a whisper.

  The doctor continued hurriedly. "On the bright side, a lot of patients do make a reasonable degree of functional recovery—"

  "Reasonable degree!" She looked as if he'd struck her in the face. She glanced at her father in mute appeal.

  Pete slipped an arm around her waist. "Hey, don't worry, baby. The doc's talking about people, not your mom. There's no way this is going to get Juliana down for long. That's a promise."

  Pete spoke with absolute certainty. Ben drew strength from it even as he saw Paige do the same.

  "That's the spirit." Dr. Crow took a step toward the door. "If there are no more questions—"

  "I have a question, Doctor." Everyone glanced in surprise at Stella, who'd been silent up to that point. "What caused this? Could it have happened because she got upset or excited or something like that?"

  "Everybody always wants to know 'why'," Dr. Crow said plaintively. "I can't answer that. These ruptures can occur anytime, totally without warning. In Juliana's case, it was almost certainly congenital—that means it wasn't caused by tension or a blow or anything like that. The potential was always there, ticking away, like a time bomb in her brain. Today it detonated. The good Lord knows why—I don't."

  "Then," Stella said clearly, "Ben may have saved her life."

  Dr. Crow shrugged and glanced at Ben. "Well, sure, I suppose so. You never know. Sometimes these things occur when people are alone and they lie for hours—that sure doesn't help. So the fact that she wasn't alone when it happened was certainly in her favor."

  Paige's face crumpled and the first tears Ben had seen her shed slid down her cheeks. She looked at him. "I'm sorry." She mouthed the words more than spoke them.

  She extended a trembling hand. He hesitated for just a fraction of a second, then took it in his own. He felt emotion tighten the back of his throat and he swallowed hard.

  Ben and Pete sat in the hospital cafeteria, drinking bitter coffee, waiting to be summoned to Juliana's bedside. Paige wasn't taking any chances. She'd refused to leave the waiting room, so Stella had taken up a tray.

  Pete screwed up his thin face in a grimace. He shifted his lanky frame and picked up his cup. "This stuff tastes like battery acid," he declared cheerfully.

  Ben listened without hearing; he sipped his coffee without tasting, wishing it were something a helluva lot stronger. "You really think she'll make it?"

  "Hell, yes! I'm not so sure about you, though."

  "Me?" Ben leaned back in his chair.

  "Man, you look like death warmed over. And you didn't even like her when she was well."

  When Pete and Juliana started dating in high school, Ben had been openly scornful. For the while the two friends had been on the outs, but Ben had pulled back once he realized the relationship was serious.

  Now Ben shrugged. "All I meant to do was drop her off at emergency and split, but I kinda got sucked in. If I leave now, it's like… like walking out in the middle of the movie. You may not like the flick, but you paid your money and you want to know how it turns out. What's your excuse? After what you said about her on the phone earlier…"

  "Yeah, well, I was mad." Peter looked down into his cup sheepishly. "Juliana's not so bad, but I really came for Paige."

  "She's a great kid," Ben said, meaning it. "Strong."

  "Thanks." Pete grinned. "So… you gonna sell out to Goddard?"

  Ben's eyes narrowed. "No chance."

  Pete shook his head and arched his brows. "I don't get it. You're sitting on a gold mine out there. It's not like you always dreamed of being a farmer."

  How to explain? Ben picked up his cup and stared down into the dregs. "I don't need money, Pete. At least I don't heed big money. I just need enough to keep the place going."

  "Why, pal? Why's this so important to you?"

  Ben looked at the simple, honest face of his oldest friend. They'd grown apart over the past twenty years, but there was still a lot of mutual caring. "It's a question of self-respect," he said finally. "I've got to make something turn out right. That's what I'm hanging on for, not avocados."

  That's also why he was hanging around the hospital, he realized with a start—waiting for something to turn out right. If she's okay, I'll be okay. Frightened by the thought, he tossed the last of the coffee down his throat and stood up. His mind and muscles responded sluggishly.

  He was tired, really tired. He'd put in the equivalent of a full day's work before the confrontation that preceded Juliana's collapse. Since then, he had functioned at a level of tension that left him co
mpletely wrung out.

  The truth was, he owed her nothing. She was nothing to him. He might as well go home… just as soon as he saw for himself that she was alive and likely to remain so.

  The doctor let Ben, Pete and Paige into ICU a few minutes later. A bank of monitors surrounded Juliana's bed with blips and bleeps of light and sound. She lay with her head swathed in bandages, surrounded and connected to tubes and lines with medical paraphernalia. More tubes, held in place by white tape, trailed from each nostril.

  She looked unbelievably fragile, translucent skin stretched taut over the jutting bones of her face, and as still as a wax stature. It never entered Ben's mind that she might be conscious. He hung back a little as Paige approached the bedside cautiously. She leaned down and whispered, "Mama? It's me, Paige."

  To Ben's astonishment, Juliana's eyelids fluttered, then lifted slowly. The very faintest of smiles touched her chalky lips. "Hi… honey," she murmured, her voice reedy. "Think you could… get me… a cigarette? They're right there in… the lower left-hand… desk drawer."

  Her eyes drifted closed. Paige looked up, her expression betraying her terror. Her father slipped an arm around her shoulder and his glance met Ben's.

  They must all share the same fears, Ben thought as he turned away, but they were afraid to acknowledge them out loud;

  Was she going to make it? And if she did, would she come all the way back?

  3

  A lot of bucks, a lot of bucks, a lot of bucks. Money's always the issue—no flowers in here! This is ICU… it'll all be the same in a hundred years.

  Cary's voice, inside her head, going round and round and round in awareness as ethereal as cotton candy. And another voice—whose?—you came to the funeral…! appreciated that. My mother's dead. Dead—no! My mother's going to be fine!

  She tried to clear out all the wisps in her brain, chase away the voices, but always they came back. I came here to buy land and I get platitudes. But where was "here?" Not a nice place, apparently. Boy, she's really tough! Look at the way she's hung on since that second surgery. Tough cookie… If it swims like a shark and bites like a shark… you give the shaft to a man you used to sleep with…