“Right this way, Dr. Verner.” Charlotte's voice floated across the silent room as she escorted someone in. A man in a pale blue dress shirt with a stethoscope slung across his shoulders hurried through the doors. He was probably mid-thirties, with messy brown hair and sharp eyes, but he moved with confidence to my father. He had a large, black leather bag that reminded me of the old school bags doctors once used to make house-calls with.
Mr. Belrose moved back to give the doctor his spot next to my father. In doing so, he moved closer to me and put his hand on my shoulder. Just having someone else there was comforting and I took a deep breath. I felt like I wasn't holding up the weight of the entire mansion on my own anymore.
“He's in here, guys,” Charlotte called down the hall, motioning to the thunderous footsteps I could hear coming. Two men dressed in paramedic gear entered the room. Mr. Belrose raised an eyebrow at Charlotte. She shrugged. “Dr. Verner told me to call them.”
“Beat us to the scene again, Doc,” said the first of the paramedics as he came over to where Dr. Verner had just finished listening to my father's heart. “What do you need?”
Mr. Belrose squeezed my shoulder, giving me strength. His hand was warm and steady, keeping me from shaking like a leaf. He was helping me stay grounded instead of floating off into a cloud of panic. The small gesture meant the world.
“Health history, and let's get an IV going. I don't like the look of that EKG, so I'd like to have something ready if we need to push meds,” the doctor replied, opening up his black bag and beginning to pull medical supplies out. I swallowed hard. There was nothing in that statement that I liked.
The other paramedic came over to my side. He had a pad of paper and an easy smile, but I was glad Bastian was sitting beside me. Even though I hadn't known him very long, I felt like he was on my side. Like he was there for me, supporting me and helping me find my own strength.
“I just have a couple of questions for you,” the paramedic began. “I'll ask your father too, but the more information we have, the better it is.”
I nodded, trying to gather my chaotic thoughts. “Okay,” I replied.
The paramedic began his first que
stion, and I felt like throwing up. Bastian squeezed my shoulder again and I felt stronger. I could do this. With a deep breath, I focused on the paramedic and began to answer his questions.
Chapter 8
I watched the sun rise from it's morning resting place to crest at high noon through a window in the bedroom adjacent to the one my father and Dr. Verner were in. Outside, the world was sunny and bright, full of bright green and cerulean that seemed at utter contradiction with what was going on in my world.
Daddy.
I had nearly lost him. I still could lose him. The idea of losing both him and my mother was just something I wasn't ready to come to terms with yet.
Bastian had helped carry Dad up to his room with the paramedics. He had even sat with me for a little while, but he had a company to run and couldn't sit with us all day. I had replayed it in my head for the past couple of hours.
“Are you going to be okay?” Mr. Belrose asked, putting his phone in his pocket and sighing. His eyes watching my face carefully.
I looked over at my dad, laying on the bed with the doctor watching the monitors attached to his chest. My soul was shaking.
“I'm not sure...” I whispered. “But you should go.”
He hesitated. “Really, I can stay with you if you'd like. I can cancel meetings. They're just meetings.”
For a moment I considered having him stay. I felt better when he was with me. He had practically saved Dad's life after all. When he was around, I couldn't help but feel like I was safe. Like he would never let anything happen to me. Like Dad would be okay as long as Mr. Belrose was nearby. It didn't make any sense, but then, nothing today made much sense.
“No,” I told him, putting on my closest approximation of a smile. “You should go to work. I'll let you know if there's any updates.”
He frowned, his dark brows coming to a beautiful point. I didn't know why he wanted to stay with me. Maybe he just felt sorry for me. Maybe he saw something of himself in my situation. I knew he couldn't possibly want to stay because he had any interest in me. That was just crazy thoughts. He was a billionaire with far better things to do than sit with a random girl who wouldn't do the Degas painting first.
“I'm fine. I was actually thinking of taking a nap,” I lied. I didn't want to feel guilty about having him stay with me instead of running his billion dollar company. I wasn't worth that.
“If you need anything,” he said, pausing to make sure I understood. “You let me or Charlotte know.”
After he reluctantly left, my nerves had kicked into high gear again.
When I started pacing the floor, Dr. Verner and my father had kicked me out of the room so they could concentrate. Instead of sitting and fretting, I worked. I went through all the paintings in the hallway and started on an empty bedroom just to keep myself busy. While Dr. Verner with his van of equipment ran his tests and kept my father calm in his room, I let antique paintings and furniture distract my mind from the potential doom that could still fall upon my family.
I was sitting in the doorway of a bedroom, waiting for an update from the room at the end of the hall while I put in the details of a very nice Matisse sketch, when Charlotte came by with a tray with tea and some food on it.
“How's it going?” she asked, settling the tray of tea and cheese and crackers on the floor next to me before sitting herself. “Bastian would like an update as soon as there's any news. He's trapped in a meeting or he would have come down himself.”
“Nothing yet,” I replied, glancing at the closed door. I picked up the tea pot and poured a cup. It smelled wonderful, and a little bit like lavender. “Are you sure this is okay? I feel like we should be at a hospital.”