Page 10 of Never Leave Me
Drake had phoned Harrison’s private physician, the one who had been coming almost daily to check on Ellen. Drake’s thin face had been pale and creased with anxiety, surely a reflection of her own worry.
She wanted to shout at Drake and ask him why he’d gone along with the foolishness, why he hadn’t tried harder to stop Harrison, why he’d looked for those stupid ampullae. But the regret on Drake’s face spoke loudly enough. He hadn’t expected Harrison to drink the poison any more than she had.
Hopefully the doctor would arrive quickly, and they could perform gastric lavage before the poison had the chance to seep into his bloodstream. Even now, Drake was downstairs, waiting to admit the doctor.
From her perch on the edge of the bed, she lifted her fingers to the carotid artery in his neck and checked his pulse. As with the other times she’d counted, the rhythms were normal. His breathing was steady and his color healthy. Although he was unconscious, he didn’t seem to be in a coma. Yet.
She pressed a stethoscope to his chest and listened to first his lungs, then his heart. Nothing was out of the ordinary. In fact, the sounds were perfect. Even so, she glanced anxiously to the open door, waiting for Drake’s return. “Come on. Hurry up, please.”
Her mind churned. Maybe she needed to call an ambulance and have Harrison transported immediately to the nearest emergency room. However, if he was falling into a coma like her dad and Marian, he would want to be at home.
Of course, she hadn’t been present, had still been in Haiti at the orphanage, when her dad and Marian ingested the holy water and became comatose. So she didn’t know exactly how long Harrison had before the onset of the coma.
She rose to her feet, pressing her pockets in search of her phone but feeling only emptiness. A wave of dizziness hit her, and she dropped back down to the bed, breathless and weak. She was overexerting herself.
“Harrison.” She brushed a hand across his forehead, checking his temperature and smoothing his rumpled hair. “You need to wake up. Now.”
Since the moment he’d passed out in the vault, she’d gone into nursing mode, had thought of nothing but every medical procedure he needed. Even so, her chest burned with the urge to weep. Why had he done this? He was a perfectly healthy man with a long life ahead of him. He would have outlived her by decades.
Now she would most likely bury another person she caredabout. She leaned in, letting her hand rest against his smooth cheek. “You can’t fall into a coma. I won’t let you.”
His eyelids flickered just slightly.
Her heartbeat stilled. Was he responding to her voice? Could he hear her? Maybe if she continued to talk to him, he’d work harder at clinging to consciousness.
“You know I need you, don’t you?” She bent low and pressed a kiss against his cheek, catching a whiff of his sandalwood aftershave. She loved his familiar scent as well as the smoothness of his jaw, the sleekness that came from having an old-fashioned shave every morning with a real razor blade and thickly lathered shaving cream.
She clasped his hand, and his fingers twitched against hers.
She sat up. Hecouldhear her and was communicating as best he could. She had to keep him with her until the doctor arrived. Her mind scurried to remember all the information she’d reviewed about comas while Marian had been in one.
Physical touch. Yes, stroking gently was another technique that could work to communicate with coma patients.
She slipped off his glasses and then brushed his hair back from his forehead.
He didn’t react.
“Please never leave me.” Leaning across him, she kissed his other cheek.
This time, his breathing quickened against her neck. Though his eyes remained closed, she sensed her touch was getting through to him. She had to keep going, keep him reacting.
Maybe her method was unprofessional. But since it seemed to be working, she wasn’t about to give up. No one else was around to see her unconventional treatment. Besides, when he awoke, he wouldn’t remember anything she’d done. At most, he’d only have a vague recollection.
“Harrison, wake up.” She skimmed her fingers down his arm to his hand. The moment her palm pressed against his, he squeezed.
Her breath caught, and she examined his face, waiting for some other sign that he was reviving. She didn’t see any change in his expression, but hope began to twirl a slow waltz inside.
“Don’t give up.” She didn’t want him to die and leave her.
Was that how he felt about her? Was that why he’d been upset with her in the garden earlier? Because he wasn’t ready to let her go?
She understood now. With tears heating her eyes, she threaded her fingers through his. “I’m sorry, Harrison. I should have tried to understand your perspective and how difficult all this has been.”
She brushed a soft kiss across his lips. The move was platonic, wasn’t it? Just like the kisses to his cheeks were.
He pressed back so slightly she wasn’t sure she’d felt him.
She let her lips linger a fraction longer only to feel the movement again.
