He shook his head. “Make no mistake about it; you are as much a victim of his insanity as anyone else his viciousness has touched. This…this obsession of his has been brewing and fermenting since you were a child. It sickened and rotted and killed him as certainly as any cancer. Even now, from the grave, he’s reaching out and trying to hurt you by making you feel guilty…excusing or minimizing his evil by somehow making it ‘your fault.’
“Well Fisher’s done enough damage. I refuse either to let him do any more or to allow him to escape even the tiniest shred of responsibility for the horrors he’s perpetrated. You have far and away more important things to think about than a heinous old man and his demented fantasies.”
“Such as?”
“Well…well for one thing, your wedding.”
“My what?” she cried in disbelief.
“Your wedding,” Van Scoyk repeated calmly. “I doubt seriously that a man who would put himself between the woman he loved and an armed, homicidal maniac will flinch at marriage.” His face softened and he smiled at her.
“Of course, being both a sentimental old fool and an incurable buttinsky, I’ll no doubt end up taking over the whole wedding in the worst, most annoying, meddlesome fashion you can imagine but you’ll forgive me when you see what a masterpiece I turn out.
“Now, preparation-wise, you and Harm can’t even think about anything sooner than spring although knowing you two, you’ll no doubt move in together as soon as he’s out of the hospital. Speaking for myself, I don’t think there’s anything more beautiful than a church wedding and that little chapel in Spirit Cove…the one that overlooks the lake…would be perfect. And of course, the reception at my house.
“I mean, unless you’re going to have one of those huge, showy things where you invite three hundred of your closest friends. In that case, we can have it in one of those wedding places in West Shore and we can rent out a banquet room and which I think would be extremely tacky for someone of my extraordinary good taste.
“And I have the most absolutely perfect gown,” he gushed, now completely caught up in the scenario. “A sort of soft bone color, satin with antique lace and a high collar and puffy long sleeves and absolutely scads of seed pearls and the most gorgeous six-foot train and matching veil. Of course, it will probably have to be altered across the bust…”
“Excuse me, Marty,” Elgin interrupted, “but…you have a wedding gown?”
“It was my mother’s” he explained stiffly, “and if you don’t get your dirty little writer’s mind out of the gutter, you’ll end up being married in the desert by a man in cowboy boots and hat while a man dressed in a white rhinestone and sequin jumpsuit sings ‘Jail House Rock’ in the background.
“And besides, I look absolutely ghastly in pastels.”
Elgin giggled and Marty embraced her.
“I’m glad to see you haven’t forgotten how to smile completely. Now, rather than drink that crankcase oil they laughingly refer to as coffee in this place, I’m going to order us some nice Irish Crème and a tray of snacks from this marvelous little place I know in town.”
“Marty, it’s almost two a.m. What kind of a place would have Irish Crème coffee and snacks at this hour? And that would deliver on top of that?”
“A very expensive, very private gentlemen’s club,” he answered. “Members only but open ‘round the clock. Just another perk of being obscenely rich.”
Pulling out his cell phone, Marty had just begun to dial when the doors opened and a tall man about sixty, wearing surgical garb entered. Immediately, they both stood up.
“Lee,” Marty greeted him warmly, “this is the lady I was telling you about. Elgin Collier, Leland Carswell.”
“Miss Collier.” He put out a soft, surprisingly strong hand to her.
“How’s Camp?” she asked anxiously.
“A little rocky, but I think he’ll be just fine.”
Euphoria rolled over Elgin and she grabbed Marty, kissing him full on the mouth. “Oh thank you, Dr. Carswell,” she breathed, feeling a new round of tears…happy ones…well up.
“Don’t thank me. I’ve rarely had a patient with such a tenacious will to live. With the severity of his injuries and the blood loss…well, I’m not that good a doctor.”
“When can I see him?”
“Oh, not until tomorrow at least. Or more precisely, later today. He’ll be in recovery until we’re sure he’s stable enough to move and then to ICU. This is a good hospital, but I’d feel better if he could be transferred to some place with a more specialized chest unit.”
“I’ve made arrangements for him to be taken by helicopter to St. Francis as soon as he’s cleared to travel,” Marty assured him. “It’s one of the best places around and in his home city.”
“Good. Good. Well, I’m beat. Gonna call it a night. Suggest you do the same. Don’t expect any problems but you never know. I’ve left my pager number in case there’s a change during the night and I’m just down at Colton’s. Can be back here double quick.”
“Thanks, Lee.”
“Yes, well don’t thank me ‘til you get my bill. Should just about cover my losses at the crap table. Don’t know how you managed to get me operating privileges on such short notice, Marty and knowing you, I’m not even going to ask. Good night.”
“Well, Elgin my dear, I guess we’ll pass on the coffee and snacks. I’m exhausted and I’m sure you are too. I’ll call the Crystal Pines and have them send a car.”
“You go on, Marty. I want to stay here. In case.”
“Absolutely not. You can’t see him and even if something did happen, you couldn’t do anything but get in the way. And if you spend the night on one of these orthopedic disasters masquerading as a sofa, you’ll be too crippled and disfigured to walk, much less…anything more strenuous when you do get to visit. So, it’s off to bed we go. Separately, of course.”
“By the way,” she asked as they walked toward the elevator, “you said the hospital ‘graciously consented’ to allowing Dr. Carswell to operate.”
“Yes.”
“So, how much does ‘graciously consented’ run these days?”
“Good God, Elgin,” Marty sighed. “You have the most foul, suspicious mind.”
“How much, Marty? A new wing?”
“You’re the one who’s in love with him,” he sniffed disdainfully, “not me. For you, a new wing. For him, just a new dialysis machine, which I’d been planning on donating anyway so it’s no big deal. Now can we get out of here? I’m absolutely famished.”
Chapter Fifteen
One more day.
In twenty-four hours, he’d be sleeping in his own bed. Or, better yet, in Elgin’s.
Harm shifted uncomfortably and tried to close his eyes. After two weeks in various hospital beds, he still couldn’t sleep on his back, no matter how much he fiddled with the bed adjustment. He normally slept on his side or stomach, virtually impossible, first with chest tubes and thick dressings and IV tubes and now simply because of the narrow, hard bed.
Oh well, with visiting hours past now, perhaps the floor would settle down. Tomorrow, his doctor would come after breakfast, sign his release papers, and with any luck, he and Elgin would be having lunch on her terrace.
He heard the door to his room open and close quietly. No doubt the night nurse coming to wake him up to give him his sleeping pill.
A pair of lips brushed gently against his, bringing him wide-awake.
“Sorry,” Elgin whispered, “didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I thought you left. Visiting hours are over. What are you doing here?”
“I decided after two whole weeks, I can’t wait another day.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She stepped back, undid the sash of her trench coat and pulled it open. “Surprise,” she chirped as he gaped at her naked body.