CHAPTER I

 

 

“Mr. Morrison, I know you can hear me.  Open your eyes.”

Brian had already forayed into consciousness.  The harsh overhead lighting nearly catapulted him back.  He wasn’t eager to inflict that sort of agony again. On top of his head, something felt out of place and his hand rose into his hair, locating the bandage just above his temple.

“I need to check your pupils, either you open your eyes voluntarily—or I pry them open for you.”

Well he wasn’t a child for Christ’s sake—he was a thirty-five year old man.

Belligerent, Brian stared down the elderly man who volleyed the look with a reproving one of his own.

“Thank you.” The doctor, whose name was McCarter as his tag indicated, seemed less than grateful for the token gesture.

“Where is she?” Brian asked gruffly.

 There was an indistinct grunt as the physician peeled the bandage away, ignoring Brian’s jerk of the head.

“Who?”

“The woman who was with me when I got here.”

Actually, Brian had no idea if the deity had taken him to the hospital.  He recalled very little except for that divine smile, and the tender touch of her hand—a benevolent clasp of salvation.

But he hoped.

Dr. McCarter drew up a graying eyebrow.  “Ah, Ms. Brennan.  She’s here.  Emily kept up a vigil all night.  You’re a lucky man, Mr. Morrison.”

Emily Brennan.  Ms. Brennan.  She was still here!

The title didn’t reveal whether she was married or not, but she was here.  Surely under these god-forsaken fluorescent bulbs he could finally see her face and determine if she was real or something created in the darkest recesses of his latent mind.

Brian cleared his throat and waved Dr. McCarter’s hand away.  “Could you, uh, could you send her in please?”

Pocketing the retinoscope, the doctor crossed his arms and regarded him with a bemused twitch of the lip.

Brian had seen the image himself a few moments ago when he reached the bathroom mirror.   There were lacerations about his forehead that looked like the cheap stitching of a doll’s hair.  The most severe gash was covered by a thick pad of gauze that was taped to his forehead, below the black hairline, and would probably hurt like hell when it was time to pull off.  His left eye sported a plum-colored halo, and though the rim of the pupil was still a dark shade of maize, the whites seemed riddled with fine red lines.  The piece de résistance was his arm hanging ineffectually in a sling.

“You aren’t exactly a pretty sight.”

Brian’s eyebrows descended.  “Thanks.”

With a flourish of wrinkles around a spontaneous grin, the doctor bowed his head.  “Alright, I’m through with you for the moment, but I’ll be back.”

Brian sneered, but his heart wasn’t in the taunt.  He was too anxious as he watched the man leave, straining to hear the hushed exchange in the hall.  The shock of the accident had to be responsible for his fascination with this mysterious woman.  In his line of work, there was little time for women.  Hell, that wasn’t to say that he was impervious to temptation.  He had his vulnerable moments, but it was hard to indulge weak flashes when you worked 200 feet beneath the surface.  And it was hard to invest time when you worked twenty hour days.  The fact that he remembered his job should be considered a relief.  He remembered his occupation.  He remembered that he had no woman in his life.  He just did not remember what put him on that road when he crashed.

She was in the room.

Instantly, Brian recognized the ginger glossy hair and tentative sweep of pink lips.  His normally brooding mouth staged mutiny and responded in kind.

His angel in white bore a calf-length wool coat wrapped around long russet pants and leather boots.  Otherworldly?  Perhaps.  But she was earthbound for the moment.  And he couldn’t stop staring.

Gradually, his glance traced up her body to the turtleneck that hugged the slim arch of her throat.  He reached the heart-shaped face with cheeks blushed a hint darker than her lips.

And then Brian met Emily’s eyes.

“Hi,” She whispered.

The doctor told Brian that he suffered two broken ribs, a laceration to his head that required sixteen stitches, and a severely sprained ankle.

Lost in eyes the color of a warm Caribbean sea, Brian was numb to the pain.

“Hi.”  He cleared his throat, and the words were out before he could check them.   “You stayed.  Why did you stay?”

 

Emily was paralyzed.  Her hands shook.  She delved them deep into the pockets of her jacket and asked herself the same question.

Initially she was going to call the police and report the man that rear-ended her car on Route One.  For well over a mile he had tailed her relentlessly on the single lane highway, and finally the combination of speed and ice spelled disaster.

Through her rear view mirror Emily witnessed his body slump out the driver’s side door, and though she was angry—no afraid—she couldn’t simply leave him there.

Approaching the prone form, long legs in jeans still lodged halfway in the utility vehicle, Emily crouched down and explored the flannel shirt for any visible injuries.   His head was tilted to the side to offer the shadowed profile of a sharp jaw.  Her gaze climbed higher, combing the dark hair, nearly black, glinting blue beneath the streetlight.  With a groan his face rolled towards her and the eyes opened up at her gasp.

“Emily?  That’s your name isn’t it?”

“Yes,” She jolted and smelled the tang of hospital disinfectants.  Why did she stay?  She should be long gone by now.

Without thinking, Emily clutched the package nestled deep in her coat packet.  Her palm began to perspire.  Till she delivered the item, she was in danger.

It had been her intention to call an ambulance, call the police, see that this man was safely on his way to the hospital, and be in Albany by now.  But on that road, the man had arrested her with the panic in his eyes.  For a moment, his fear superseded hers.

“The doctor says you’re going to be fine.” She managed.  “Sore for awhile, but you’ll be out of here in a few days.”

“Why did you stay?” He persisted.

For a moment she dared to look into those eyes.  It was like stepping into the Black forest.  “You wouldn’t let go of my hand.”

The room was quiet.  Muffled sounds of the nursing station filtered in over the echo of beeping monitors.  The tinny resonance of a patient badgering a nurse could be heard over an intercom.  Out in the hall, interns regaled tales of last night’s drama in the ER.

But within this room, everything suddenly muted to the point that Emily heard her own erratic breath hitched in time with another patient’s respirator.

Brian held her eyes, and she was rapt by that stare.  The spell had to account for the poised steps she took across the room to stand by his side.  Drawn to the stranger, Emily stood at the edge of the bed, her white fingers wrapped around the rail.

“You were driving too fast.” She whispered.

“You were there.  It’s all I remember.”

“I couldn’t just leave you.”

“Yes, you could have.”

She tried.  At first.  But Dr. McCarter’s concern over his patient made Emily fear for the stranger’s life.  After a few hours spent at his bedside, holding the hand of an unconscious man, she began to feel an uncanny sense of composure.  Perhaps the fact that the stranger was out cold meant that he bore no threat to her.  There wasn’t any danger holding the hand of a man who knew nothing about her—who knew nothing about what she had just done.

Dr. McCarter accepted Emily’s presence.  The cloak of night allowed her to sit by Brian Morrison’s side and wait to see if he regained consciousness.  That’s all she wanted— was to see him wake.  Once she knew he was okay, she would leave.  Run.  Drive as fast as the icy roads would allow, and be back on track for Albany.

Brian sighed and broke her from her reverie.  He glanced up at the chipped stucco on the ceiling.

“I don’t remember what I was doing, or where I was going,” His voice was hoarse.  “Or why the hell I was even on that road to begin with.  I don’t even live around here.” He hesitated.  “No, I live in New Haven.  I know that much at least.”

Golden eyes suddenly converged on Emily and brought heat to her cheeks.  “My God, did I hurt you?  In the accident? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” She shivered.  “It looked as if you were trying to pass me, only you hit a patch of ice and clipped a telephone pole.”

Emily relived that dull crash in her mind, and flinched at the view in her rearview mirror.  “I—I thought you were dead.  You were so still.  And then finally you opened your eyes.”

“And I saw you, and I thought I was dead.  That’s all I remember.  From that moment on is all I remember.” Brian looked away, but continued.  “I don’t have amnesia.  I know my name, where I live, I know where I work.  It’s just that I don’t remember why I was there, or the accident.  To think about it—it almost felt as if I was running away from something,” his head shook to negate the thought, “but hell, that doesn’t sound like me.”

Emily didn’t know the man, but taking in the bare shoulders, lean but rippled with sinewy muscles, and the chest tinged with dark curly hair—she sensed a strength in him that contradicted the image of a man in flight.  Her inspection took in the swathe of gauze, and the bruised flesh surrounding one devastating eye.  That eye incited power and made her heart stumble a beat.

She was the one who was running.  She was the one who shouldn’t be here.  She was the one who should have left the scene of the accident.  Each cop was a threat—each moment a tangible delay.  Yet, the dark stranger had opened his eyes on that icy road and looked at her as if she were his salvation.  Emily felt weak with the recollection.

Without thinking, she reached up to touch the thick hair above his wound.  It was such a spontaneous gesture that her hand snapped back when she caught herself in the act.

“Does it hurt?” She whispered.

Their eyes locked.

 

“Uuh-hmm,” Dr. McCarter watched the couple jerk apart and buried a grin inside an unfurled chart.  “It’s eight o’clock.  I know, I know, I went through this whole routine last night and Ms. Brennan refused to leave.”

Brian cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I—I have to leave now anyway.” She hedged.

“I understand.” With a conceding bow of the head and a courteous smile, the doctor braced his hand on the doorjamb.  “He’s going to be fine.  If anything, I have your cell phone number, Ms. Brennan, I’ll call you.”  He flashed a quick grin at his brooding patient.

“Thank you.” Emily called as Dr. McCarter left the room.

As soon as she turned back she felt her throat go dry.  Brian’s gaze was on her like she was his prey.  No.  Like a virile male assessing a woman.  Curious.  Tempted.  Hungry.

 

Brian could tell that Emily’s nerves were on edge, but her gaze never strayed from his.  Shadows darkened the skin beneath her eyes, as if she had not slept in days.  Every one of her features shouted youth—but in her eyes he saw the wisdom of age, and a hint of trepidation and pain.

“I don’t want you to go.” He whispered.

Spellbound, Emily parted her lips to say goodbye, but her voice betrayed her.

“Emily,”

“I—I, have to.”

Of course she did.  He wasn’t so selfish as to see she desperately needed sleep.  “Would you come back?”

For the first time she avoided his gaze and looked down to the linoleum tiles.  That flight told him all he needed to know.  He released her hand.

“Mr. Morrison, I—I don’t live here. I was trying to get somewhere when this happened, I have to—“

“Hey,” With his hand free now, Brian lifted it into the air, but it dropped back down on the bed, unfulfilled.  “I think you can call me Brian by now.  And thank you.  You have no idea how much your being here has meant to me.  Not many people would do that for a stranger.”

Brian watched her.  The silence grew and he accepted it as her goodbye.  In a husky voice he ordered, “Don’t stay on the road too long tonight.  You’re tired.  And the roads,” he grinned, “well, they’re full of crazy drivers.”

 

Emily’s laugh surprised her.  There had been nothing to laugh about in the past few days.

“Promise me you’ll be more careful from now on.”  She said.

“I promise.”

What to do?  A man you had only known for twenty-four hours—only conversed with for two of those hours, and now she wanted to touch him.  She wanted to bestow a personal gesture, more potent than a simple farewell message.  The reaction was irrational.  It had to stem from nerves already pushed to the extreme.  In some small way, a physical connection might offer atonement for what she had done today.

Emily pitched her chin, and delved her hands in her pockets.  “I really have to go.”  She wrenched back a step and whispered, “Take care, Brian Morrison.”

 

Coins and a lipstick container spilled from her purse as Emily fumbled for her cell phone.  Two quarters hit the linoleum floor and spiraled down the hall, but she didn’t have time to chase them.  Pressed against her ear, the cell phone started to draw perspiration as she scanned the corridor to ensure that she was alone.  Her palm grew damp while listening to the dull ring at the far end.

Come on, come on, come on.

The phone continued its fruitless chime as a doctor transporting a patient entered the hallway, trailed by a family tirelessly begging for answers.  Amidst this disruption, Emily nearly missed the fact that someone had picked up on the opposite end.

There was no voice, but the ringing had stopped and she heard a hesitant breath.  Cautiously, she whispered, “Colin?”

“Shhh, no names for Christ’s sake.  Where the hell are you calling from?  Grand Central?  Piazza Venezia?  Piccadilly Circus?  God  damn, it’s loud there.”

Emily covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her speech.  “It’s a hospital.  I’m safe.  No one here can possibly know us.”

“A hospital!  Christ Emily, what happened?”

Breathe, just breathe.

Why did the hall have to be so crowded?  Just seconds ago it was still, and she could focus.  “I’m fine.  I’ll tell you about it later.”

“You got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Any problems?”

Just this little detour.  “No.  Listen, Col—, little brother, are you sure about this?”

Across the line she heard a derisive laugh. “I’m not sure about anything.  Look, just get here.  I’ve been worried.  You should have been here by now.  How far away are you?”

Emily glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was approaching nine.  Colin was right.  She couldn’t stay here any longer.  Anxious fingers clasped around the item nestled deep in her coat pocket.

“Probably three hours.”

“Noon then, Emster.  If you’re not here by noon I’m going to be freaking out.”

A weary smile curved Emily’s lips.  Colin Brennan had spent most of his life freaking out about one thing or another.

Her smile fell.  This time his anxiety was fully warranted.

“You have to be careful, Emily.  Make sure no one is following you.”

“I know, I know, I know.”

“Jeese sis, don’t get hysterical on me.”  He hesitated, “Do you think I’m being paranoid?”

No.  That was the problem.  She believed her brother, and she knew that they were both in over their heads right now.

“Paranoid?  No.  Delusional?  Yes.  But you’ve been that way your whole life.”

“Misunderstood.” He paused. “Hurry.”

 

Brian stood with his shoulder propped against the doorframe, his free arm hugging his ribs.  He watched Emily, but she didn’t know he was there.  She was staring at her cell phone until she snapped the device closed and placed it in her purse.   Slinking the strap over her shoulder, she remained motionless a moment longer and gazed vacuously at a coffee machine.  In the pockets of her wool coat he could tell her hands were curled into fists.

Who are you, Angel?  And what are you thinking?

She turned and saw him.  Cerulean eyes widened in alarm and then narrowed in conviction.  Gone was the anxious little angel.  The creature that approached him was cool, reserved, and very suspicious.

“Were you standing there long?”

“I’m not doing anything quickly right now.” He attested and nodded at the machine, “Want some coffee?”

Emily yanked her hands out of her pockets, catching his eyes on them.  A deep breath settled her.  “I had to make a call.  You know, let family know where I am, and all.”

“Mmmm.”

After her hasty departure, Brian had tried to exorcise this woman from his mind.  “Naturally they’re concerned.”

“I didn’t think you could walk.”

“I can’t run.” He shrugged. “I can walk.”

For a moment they stared each other down.  Emily’s newly reserved expression wavered.  Steeling herself with a jerk of the shoulder, she managed.  “Well, then you are mending, and I am going.”

She didn’t even look back.  She walked directly past him, ignoring his pained stance and nearly clipping a man in a wheelchair in her haste to reach the lobby doors.

Brian hefted off the doorframe and limped towards those doors, watching the white apparition disappear into a mist of snow and fog, as if she had never existed to begin with.  Limping a few more steps, he reached the glass and searched the parking lot, but for a car he would not recognize anyway.  Still, his glance surveyed the parked vehicles, some covered with last night’s snowfall, some blackened by recent slush.  But no willowy white figure.  No soft cinnamon crown.

His angel had spread her wings and flown away.