Page 20 of If She Only Knew (The Cahills 1)

The phone rang and Alex jumped, strode around the corner to the foyer and grabbed the receiver before the second ring. “Alex Cahill. Yes . . . good, good . . . wonderful. We’ll be there directly.” He slammed the phone down. “About time,” he growled as he reentered the room.

“Mom?” Cissy asked, and some of her fake snotty teenage attitude melted into the woodwork. Without her sneer and the mistrust in her expression, she was pretty and probably would blossom into a beauty. Like her mother. “Is she okay?”

“Let’s hope so,” Alex said but managed a smile. “That was the hospital. It looks like she’s finally rousing.”

“Thank God,” Eugenia said as she rose to her feet and Nick felt a mixture of relief and trepidation. “Fiona and Carmen are here to look after the baby, but I’d better let them know what’s going on.” She marched quickly to the back of the house.

“We’ll take the Jag,” Alex said, reaching into his pocket for his keys.

“I’ll drive my own rig.” Nick didn’t wait for any further arguments. He needed his own set of wheels, his “out” if things got too intense in the hospital. There just wasn’t any telling what would happen when Marla finally came around.

She opened one eye a crack but the shaft of piercing light forced her to shut it again. Her headache was a low throb, and the pain in her jaw more pronounced. She was vaguely aware of some music, a tune she should remember, floating in the air around her.

“Mrs. Cahill?” a soft female voice said.

That name again. Oh, God, why did it seem wrong? Her eyelids fluttered open and she winced against the blaze of light, then realized the lamps were turned down low, the blinds drawn, the room semidark.

“Do you know where you are?”

Marla nodded. Her mouth tasted terrible, her skin itched from lying in bed and her hair felt stringy, her scalp gritty. Good Lord, she must be a sight. Slowly, the blur that was the nurse’s face came into focus.

“This is Bayview Hospital, and I’m Carol Maloy.” The name tag on her pale blue jacket verified the information with an RN tacked on. Tall and blonde with crystal blue eyes, she offered a smile of straight white teeth. “Glad to have you with us.”

Marla swallowed against a throat as dry as sand.

“So, how do you feel? Are you thirsty?”

With more effort than it should have taken, Marla managed to nod, but Nurse Maloy had already turned away and returned with a glass of water equipped with a straw. “I suspected you’d be waking up today, just had a feeling. We’ll start with this, then move on to juice if you really want to go wild.”

With the nurse’s help, she managed to suck up some water. It tasted like heaven as it slid past lips that felt cracked and dry, through the wires binding her teeth and down her parched throat.

Her stomach clenched. Threatened to upheave.

As if anticipating the action, the nurse said, “Whoa. Slowly. Just sip, okay? You’ve been out for quite a while now. It’s going to take your body a while to adjust to being among the living again.”

Marla took her advice, sipped slowly. Her head began to clear.

“See, you’re getting the hang of this already!” She took Marla’s temperature. “Nasty things, those wires,” she prattled on, “but necessary, I’m afraid. The good news is you won’t have to deal with them too much longer. Maybe a week or two.” She took Marla’s blood pressure and pulse with the quick efficiency of someone who could strap a cuff around someone’s arm in her sleep. “I’ve already called Dr. Robertson and he’ll be down to see you shortly.” She hung the blood pressure cuff on the wall. “He’s called your family.”

Her family. The people without faces. Maybe now she would remember them.

“Would you like to sit up?”

“Yes,” Marla said, glad for a change in position. Any change. The nurse showed her the bedside controls and the head of the bed elevated enough so that she could see the rest of the room. It was small, efficient and would have been sterile had it not been for the profusion of bright, fragrant flowers crammed onto every available surface while boxes of candy and unopened packages were stacked on a shelf near the closet. Cards overflowed from a basket on a bedside table. “Your mother-in-law wanted you to wake up to all this, just so you knew how much you were missed,” Carol explained as she listened to Marla’s heartbeat with her stethoscope. “Normal, I’m afraid. Temperature, blood pressure, pulse . . . all normal.” She pocketed the stethoscope, then picked up a pair of wire cutters that were lying on the table with the water glass, pitcher and a box of tissues. “These probably seem out of place, but if you ever, ever, think you might vomit, page us immediately and start clipping the wires in your mouth as if your life depended on it.” She was instantly sober. “Because it does. We don’t want you to choke or suffocate.”

Marla shuddered, horrified at the mental image that came to mind.

“Not a very pleasant thought, I know,” the nurse said, as if she’d read Marla’s mind. “And in all likelihood, nothing’s going to happen, but I just thought I’d let you know.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Marla guessed.

“You got it.” The nurse jotted some quick notes on her chart. “Okay, everything looks pretty good. I’ll get the juice and have someone give you a bath in bed, okay? As soon as the doctor says it’s okay, we’ll get rid of some of the tubes running in and out of your body and let you clean up.” She winked again, then swung through the door.

Marla couldn’t wait to be free of this prison. She sipped the water and looked around the room. A window offered a view of a parking lot, and farther away stretched an expanse of green water, probably part of the Bay, considering the name of the hospital. She reached over and thumbed through the cards left at the bedside, reading them and wondering who the people were who had signed their names. Bill and Sheryl, Gloria and Bob, Joanna and Ted, Anna, Christian, Mario. Not one rang a bell, but then neither did her own. Marla Amhurst Cahill. Dear God, why did she wear the name like a pair of oversized shoes?

Her head was throbbing and as she set the water glass on the table and leaned back in the bed, she suddenly remembered a face, a man’s face. Rugged and rough-hewn with tanned skin, chiseled features, and thick black eyebrows on a ledge over intense, laser blue eyes.

Her throat tightened at the memory.

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