Dear Cupid Read online

  “What do you mean, she doesn’t have his nebulizer?” Kate asked in rising tones. “And what’s he doing with her anyway?”

  “Apparently he spent the night with her.”

  Fear and fury exploded in a white flash. “Where is Edward?”

  “I don’t know. I was just looking up his number to call him since his mother doesn’t want to bother him so early on a Sunday morning. Get this—she wants you to come into town and deal with Dylan.”

  “She wants me to drive into town?” Kate raised a shaking hand to her brow. “If he’s having an asthma attack, he could be dead by the time I got there.”

  “Oh God, Kate, are you serious?’

  “Yes, I’m serious.” Why didn’t anyone but her own parents take Dylan’s condition to heart? “Look, I’ve got to call Dylan. I’ll call you back.”

  She hit the off button, then fumbled to dial the number of her former in-laws, only she couldn’t figure out how to get the dial tone back. And her own phone was probably in her purse somewhere. With trembling fingers, she tried again, only to have Mike take the phone from her.

  “What are you doing?” She grabbed for the phone,

  “Kate!” he said in a clear voice. Taking her wrist in his hand, he waited for her to look at him. “Take a deep breath.”

  “But—”

  “I said take a breath.” She did, and felt dizzy for a moment, before the world settled back into place. “Now, tell me the number.”

  She rattled off the number from memory. Once he’d dialed it for her, he handed her the phone. She sat, listening to it ring. And ring. Finally Edward’s mother came on the line. “Good morning, Bradshaw residence.”

  “Anne, thank heavens. It’s Kate.”

  “Oh, hello, Kate,” the woman said as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “I’m so glad you called. Dylan seems to be having a bit of difficulty breathing and claims he needs a treatment on his nebel—nubu-something?”

  “Nebulizer,” Kate corrected. “It’s that machine that looks like a bread box. It turns his medicine into a mist. Please tell me Edward left it with you.”

  “A machine? I don’t think so. He did bring in a bag of medicine. Perhaps one of those would help.”

  In the background, she heard Dylan cough. The weak, raspy sound made her chest constrict in empathy. “Have you checked his air flow on the peak flow meter?”

  “You know, they really need to make the numbers on those gadgets larger. How on earth is a person supposed to read such tiny print?”

  “Perhaps you could get your reading glasses?” Kate suggested through gritted teeth.

  “Yes, of course. Hold on a minute.”

  “Anne, wait! Let me talk to Dylan while you’re hunting down your glasses.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Mom?” Dylan’s voice was so thin, she could barely hear him.

  Oh, God. She bit her lip to keep from crying. If only she could reach through the phone and wrap him in her arms. In some corner of her mind, she felt a hand slip over hers and remembered that Mike sat beside her. Her fingers curled instinctively around his. “Hello, Dylan,” she said in as bright a voice as she could manage. “Grandma Anne says you’re not feeling too well.”

  “Chest ... hurts.” She heard him struggle to take in air past his constricted throat.

  “I know, baby.” She closed her eyes, fighting back tears. “When your grandma comes back, I want you to blow as hard as you can into the tube, okay? Can you do that for Mommy?”

  She heard Anne come back into the room and sat for an eternity, rocking back and forth with one hand clasping the phone to her ear, the other clinging to Mike. At last, Anne came back on the line and gave her the three readings.

  No, please no! Kate wanted to scream. How could any reasoning adult let a child become this weak without seeking help? “Anne,” she said in a deadly calm voice. “I want you to listen to me very carefully. Dylan has got to get to the hospital. I’ll call the ambulance, but I want you to keep Dylan as calm as possible until they get there.”

  “An ambulance?” Anne sounded offended at the thought. “Can’t you simply drive into town with whatever it is he needs?”

  “Dammit, Anne!” She gripped the phone. “I don’t have time for one of your fits of denial. Dylan has asthma. Maybe you don’t want to face that fact, but right now he needs you. Because if he gets too agitated, his air passages will close up and he won’t be able to breathe. If he can’t breathe, he’ll die. Do you understand that? Is any of this getting through to you?”

  “Well, there’s hardly any need to shout.”

  “My son could be dying because of your negligence, and you think there’s no need to shout?”

  “Perhaps you should talk to Henry,” Anne said, clearly ready to turn the whole situation over to her husband. But then, that was how Anne dealt with most things in life.

  “No,” Kate said through gritted teeth.. “I don’t need to talk to Henry.” The last thing she needed was to have Henry Bradshaw brush her off as nothing but a hysterical female and say that Dylan was fine, the boy just needed to gut it up like a man. “All I need is for you to keep my son calm until help arrives.”

  “Yes, of course, but all those sirens will wake the whole neighborhood?”

  “Good-bye, Anne?” Kate ended the call and this time managed to dial the phone by herself. She gave the emergency operator the Bradshaws’ address and a quick rundown of the situation.

  Not until she hung up did the full impact of her emotions hit her. She covered her mouth with her hand and fought back a sob. She didn’t have time to cry. She had to get to Dylan, but he seemed a million miles away.

  “Kate?” Mike rubbed his hand in small circles over her back. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just take this one step at a time.”

  She nodded. “Yes. Of course. I need to call Dylan’s doctor. Tell him to meet the ambulance at the hospital. And my parents. I should call my parents.”

  “Do you need me to dial for you?”

  “No. I’m fine.” She straightened her back.

  “All right.” He rose from the bed to dress. “Take your time down here making your calls. I’ll be topside getting us under way.”

  “Mike?” she called as he started to leave. “How long will it take? To get to my car?”

  He hesitated before answering. “About two hours.” Her heart fell. “I’ll get you there as fast as I can, Kate,” he promised.

  But would it be fast enough?

  Chapter 19

  AN agonizing three hours later, Kate burst into the emergency room with Mike right behind her. He’d insisted on driving her in his car, since she was too shaky to be safe on the road. “Mom,” she called, seeing her parents waiting on plastic seats in the hallway.

  They rose and hurried toward her, her mother reaching her first. “Katy.” Her mother’s arms enfolded her with gentle strength.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Kate said, holding tight.

  “And where else would I be, I’d like to know?” Mary Larson laughed lightly in her Irish brogue as her husband stood stoically by, offering his silent support.

  Linda came up behind Kate’s parents,” her worried expression more eloquent than any words.

  “How’s Dylan?” Kate asked.

  “The doctor’s in with him now,” her mother answered.

  “No news, then?” Kate asked.

  “Humph,” Mary snorted. “Only from the nurses, when they have a moment to spare, and they seem to be having precious few of those, if you ask me.”

  For the first time, Kate noticed the chaos and noise around her. Sunday mornings in an ER were usually quiet. Yet a group of bikers filled the waiting area: some pacing, some bleeding, all of them angry and cursing. One of them, the leader she supposed, stood at the admittance counter spewing obscenities at the nurse.

  “Where’s Anne?” Kate asked.

  “She left just a moment ago,” Mary said.

  “Figures.” Ka
te snorted.

  “Now, Katy.” Her mother took on a stern look. “Anne did a fine job getting Dylan checked in and waiting until we arrived. Truth be told, she was that upset after talking to the doctor. I suggested she go home and wait for word there with her husband.” Mary’s face softened as she tucked a curl behind Kate’s ear. “The last thing you needed to deal with was Anne Bradshaw’s hysterics on top of worrying over Dylan.”

  “Thank you.” Kate managed a smile of gratitude just as Dylan’s pediatrician emerged from one of the treatment rooms.

  “Dr. Peterson.” Kate hurried toward him.

  “Kate, good, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “How’s Dylan?’

  “Better now.” He gave her a cool look, as if wanting to voice all the things she already knew: that preventive steps in the early stages could have lessened the attack, and barring that, Dylan should have been admitted hours before he was.

  “He was staying with his grandparents,” she offered lamely in her own defense. “Can I see him?”

  “This way.” Dr. Peterson turned and led the way back toward the swinging doors. “We’ll be moving him to a private room soon.”

  “Then you’ll be keeping him overnight?” The solid footing she’d fought to maintain all morning faltered. She glanced back over her shoulder. “My parents.”

  “We’ll let them know the room number as soon as he’s been moved.”

  “Yes, of course.” Numbly she followed the doctor down the hall, toward her son.

  ~ ~ ~

  Mike stood for a moment, staring after Kate, before he turned awkwardly to her parents. He offered a half-smile to the tall, slender woman with smooth blond hair and soft green eyes. “You must be Kate’s mother.”

  “Aye.” The woman arched a brow. She had a quiet manner, neatly pressed clothes, and a sure, steady gaze. “And you would be ...?”

  “Mike Cameron.” He cleared his throat, wondering if Kate’s parents knew where their daughter had been when she received word about Dylan. “I’m a, uh, friend of Kate’s.”

  “Cameron?” A frown flickered across her brow. “Oh, yes. The Scotsman whose grandfather sailed out of Glasgow some years back.”

  “That would be me.” Relief washed over him as the woman offered her hand.

  “I’m Mary Larson, and this is Kate’s father, Arthur.” The woman turned to the man at her side. “Arthur,” she repeated a bit louder.

  “Hmm? What?” Kate’s father pulled his attention from the door through which his daughter had disappeared.

  “This is the young man Mary Pat told us about. Mike Cameron. Katy’s new man friend.”

  Dr. Larson was a burly man with wild white hair and a steely gray beard. He looked perfectly at home in his slightly baggy pants and navy blue polo shirt, which he’d neglected to tuck in.

  “Cameron, you say?” The surprisingly dark eyebrows came together in a frown as he gave Mike a quick once-over. “Yes, I seem to remember some mention of that name.”

  Mike straightened instinctively. “Yes, sir. I’m pleased to finally meet you. Though I would have preferred different circumstances.”

  “Yes,” the professor agreed before he returned his attention back down the hall.

  They waited another thirty minutes in the ER. Mike sat beside Kate’s father listening absently as Kate’s mother and Linda talked in hushed tones.

  Finally, a nurse stopped long enough to tell them Dylan’s room number before she hurried off again. By silent consent, Mike rode up in the elevator with the others. He hung back, though, as they made their way through the maze of corridors, then stopped altogether when they reached Dylan’s door.

  He didn’t belong here, he realized. Not yet. He wasn’t family, even if he longed to be the one who sat at Kate’s side, held her hand, and worried along with her over her son.

  That right had to be more than earned. It had to be granted. Discouraged, but far from defeated, he took a seat in the hall and began his own vigil.

  ~ ~ ~

  Kate looked up when her parents and Linda entered. The unbearable tightness in her chest loosened some just at the sight of them.

  “How is he?” her mother asked as she moved quietly toward the bed, her eyes already fixed on Dylan.

  “Sleeping now, thank goodness.” Kate turned back to the bed. Her son lay against the white sheets, his breathing fast and shallow. “He was so scared, though, Mom. He was so scared.” The tears rose hot and fast, clogging in her throat.

  “I know.” Her mother leaned down to hug her.

  “How could Anne do this?” Kate pulled back to swipe the moisture from her cheeks. “How could she let him get this bad? Doesn’t she have eyes and ears?”

  With a patient smile, her mother brushed the hair from Kate’s face. “The frailty of our children isn’t an easy thing for a body to accept. For some, it’s easier not to see. But I think Anne realized what she’d done when she got here.”

  The phrase “too little, too late” sprang to Kate’s tongue, but she swallowed it down. Lashing out at Anne Bradshaw wouldn’t solve anything; no matter how badly she needed to lash out at something or someone.

  They settled in to wait, her mother and Linda in the chairs on the other side of Dylan’s bed, her father perched on the window seat. Kate gave her mother a list of things she’d need: some juice and animal crackers for Dylan, a few storybooks, paper and a fresh box of crayons. Linda agreed to drive back out to the lake and get Kate a change of clothes, her makeup, and the magazine off her nightstand. At the moment, Kate doubted she could concentrate enough to read, but she also knew how slowly the hours passed while watching Dylan sleep.

  After another gentle hug from her mother and a gruff one from her father, Kate watched her parents leave.

  “Oh, Kate,” Linda said as they settled back down to either side of Dylan’s bed. “I feel so awful.”

  “What on earth for?” Kate frowned. “This wasn’t your fault.”

  “No, but I see now that I never took Dylan’s condition seriously enough. I can’t believe all the times I called you overprotective.”

  “It’s all right,” Kate offered a smile she hoped was reassuring even if it felt a bit weak. “Until you’ve lived through it, it’s hard to believe something like this can happen so quickly.” She gave in to the need to take Dylan’s hand in hers. Whether from the medicine or exhaustion, he lay completely still except for the rapid rise and fall of his diaphragm. His air passages had constricted to the point where he had to use his stomach muscles to pull every breath into his lungs. The sound of the effort tore her apart.

  She remembered the time, years ago, when a nurse had told her to breathe through a straw for ten minutes so she’d better understand how Dylan felt during an attack. She barely lasted the full time, had felt panicked and helpless by the end. Yet Dylan had been like that for hours, and faced hours more, perhaps even days.

  “I swear,” Linda said, leaning forward. “I’ll never give you grief for being overprotective again.”

  Kate managed a more genuine smile at her friend’s earnest expression. “No, but I can see I might be the one giving you grief instead.”

  “Maybe so.” They both smiled in a moment of perfect understanding and support.

  “What the hell is going on here?” a voice demanded from the doorway.

  All warmth drained from Kate’s face as she turned to face her ex-husband. “Well, hello, Edward. So good of you to join us.”

  He flushed a bit when he saw Linda. After a quick glance toward the bed, he stepped toward Kate and lowered his voice. “My mother just called, crying and spouting some nonsense about Dylan being sick and her not being able to reach you. Just where the hell were you last night?”

  “Where was I?” She stared at him in disbelief. How like Edward to instantly blame her for everything. “I should think the question is, where the hell were you?”

  “I had a dinner meeting with a client.” He shrugged.

  “You were s
upposed to be spending the weekend with your son, not dumping him on your parents. But, since you did, I can’t believe you forgot to unpack his nebulizer.”

  “I didn’t realize I’d be leaving him all night. But the meeting ran over.”

  “That’s no excuse, Edward!” She raked her hands through her hair in an effort to control her temper. “Do you realize your son could have died because of your negligence?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Look at him.” She pointed toward the bed. “Take a good hard look at what you’ve done to our son.”

  For the first time, he turned his full attention to the bed. His eyes widened a fraction at the sight of Dylan lying there with an oxygen tube lying across his face, and an IV snaking upward from his arm. Dylan’s face appeared nearly as white as the hospital sheets. “I don’t understand. He was fine when I left him.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” Kate snapped. “An attack this bad has warning signs. As usual, you were too preoccupied with yourself to pay attention.”

  “If y’all will excuse me,” Linda said, rising. “I’ll be on my way.” She caught Kate’s gaze and nodded toward the bed. Dylan’s eyes had fluttered open. Linda came around the bed and squeezed Kate’s hand. “I’ll go get your things, then be back as soon as I can.”

  “Thanks.” Kate nodded. When Linda had gone, she turned and found Edward still studying his son.

  “Hey, Dill-man, you’re going to be okay, right?” Edward asked.

  Dylan managed a weak nod.

  Kate bent forward and kissed Dylan’s brow. “You rest here a minute, sweetie. Your father and I need to talk, but I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  His weak, frightened look brought the tightness back to her chest. Still, she had things to say to Edward that were best said out of Dylan’s hearing range. Without a word, she walked through the door, knowing her ex-husband would follow.

  “Mike?” She came up short the minute she passed into the bright hallway.

  Mike came instantly to his feet. “How’s Dylan?”

  “Better. Though not out of the woods yet.” She shook her head. “What are you doing here?”