Emily flushed at the languorous drop in
Derian’s voice. Why did everything Derian Winfield said sound as if she was
being touched by the words? She glanced down at Henrietta and finally reached
over to touch her arm beneath the edge of the white and blue striped gown.
Relief flooded through her, rinsing the taste of fear from her mouth.
Henrietta’s skin was supple and warm, alive. “Hi, Henrietta. You’re going to be
all right—no exaggeration. The doctors are on top of everything. All you need
to do is rest and…”
Henrietta’s lids fluttered and Emily caught
her breath. She glanced at Derian, who was staring at Henrietta with such
intensity Emily almost believed Derian was willing Henrietta to wake up.
“Nothing wrong…with my brain,” Henrietta
whispered, lids fluttering open. Her pupils were pinpoint, her gaze unfocused.
Furrows creased her brow. “Fuzzy.”
“That’s because they doped you up.” Derian
brushed a strand of loose hair away from Henrietta’s eyes. Her fingers
trembled. “They probably didn’t want you bossing everyone around.”
“Ha,” Henrietta muttered feebly.
“What…happened?”
“You had a bit of a spell,” Derian said, “but
it’s all fixable. Nothing to worry about just now.”
“Don’t…snow me.”
Derian grinned. “Heart. Not too bad, but
you’re gonna need some engine work.”
Henrietta’s lids fluttered close.
“You…decide…”
“You got it.”
Emily started. She hadn’t thought about
Henrietta’s next of kin. She suddenly hoped with all her being that it wasn’t
Martin Winfield.
“All out,” Henrietta said with surprising
strength.
“No problem.” Derian’s voice was gentle but
her expression was fierce. “I know all about mechanics. I’ll make sure you’ve
got another hundred thousand miles under the chassis.”
Henrietta’s mouth twitched into a smile.
After a long moment, she whispered, “Take care of…the rest…two of you.”
Derian’s eyebrows rose, and she glanced at
Emily. “Don’t worry. We’ll have it all covered.”
Emily wasn’t sure what Henrietta intended by
that, but nothing mattered now except Henrietta getting well. She wasn’t sure
she could bear too many more days or nights in the hospital. She’d do anything
for Henrietta, except stand vigil while she slipped away. She squeezed
Henrietta’s arm. “It’s going to be all right. Derian will see to it. I love
you.” She backed up, avoiding Derian’s gaze. “I’ll…be outside.”
Silently, Derian watched her go, wondering at
what old wounds put such pain in her eyes.
Burns appeared at the end of the bed. “I have
to chase you out now or the nurses will skin me.”
“Okay.” Derian leaned down and kissed
Henrietta’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry. I’ve got this. I love you.”
Henrietta didn’t respond, and Derian forced
herself to step away. Henrietta would be okay, she had to be. Derian said
quietly to Burns, “What now?”
“I don’t expect we’ll know much more until
the CT guys have had a chance to review all the tests. I’ll call you, or
whoever takes over from me will, when we have a plan.”
“I’m her legal next of kin,” Derian said. “I
want to be sure I get the call.”
“I don’t actually know anything about that.
That would be in her records.”
Derian nodded. “Who should I check with?”
“The nurses at the desk can pull up her
admission forms.”
“Okay, thanks.” Derian held out her hand.
“For everything.”
“She’s doing fine,” Burns said as he shook
her hand. “Someone will call.”
Derian waited at the counter until an older
woman with curly gray hair, in a pink scrub suit covered by a smock that looked
like the kind of apron Derian’s grandmother used to wear, turned and noticed
her. “Can I help you, honey?”
“I just wanted to check that you had my
contact information, and to be sure you had me listed as next of kin for
Henrietta Winfield.”
The woman’s brows drew down as she looked
Derian over. “That’s you, isn’t it?”
“Sorry?”
“Derian Winfield. You race cars in Europe or
something?”
“Ah, yeah, something like that. That’s me.”
“Huh. Imagine that.”
Derian didn’t bother to ask how she was
recognized. She made it a point not to look at the celebrity rags that graced
just about every newsstand in the world. There was nothing she could do about
paparazzi. Money attracted them like chum on the ocean drew sharks. She’d
learned to pretty much ignore what was written or said about her, since it was
99.9 percent fabricated to begin with. If she’d had as many women as the
tabloids made it out she did, she’d never get any sleep. Every time she
escorted anyone anywhere, the papers had them involved in some kind of hot and
steamy romance. Sure, she slept with some of them. But definitely not all. But
why bother to try to set the record straight. Who would care? And secretly, if
it pissed off Martin, she didn’t half mind.
