Carol Grace – His Sleeping Beauty (страница 7)

Even worse than being treated like an invalid, she discovered, was being treated like she wasn’t there. The paramedic team in the room discussed her situation, debated whether to prescribe anything and in general carried on like she was in a coma. “Excuse me. I’m not unconscious,” she said. “I’m alive and well. I should tell you I have asthma, but it’s under control.”

They turned to look at her as surprised as if a statue had spoken. They took notes, wrote on a chart and after an eternity, the paramedics left and she was propped up against her aunt’s small embroidered pillow shams. She’d quietly shed her underwear and hidden them under the sheets, and now she wore nothing but a comforter pulled up to her chin. She glared at the man who was standing at the foot of her bed. Why was he still there? She was fine. She’d been poked and prodded and lectured to and she was exhausted. But fine.

“How are you feeling?” Max asked, his eyebrows drawn together in concern.

“Fine, thank you.” Now go.

“I don’t know what happened, but…”

“I got knocked in the water, that’s all. At least that’s what the man said. My fault. I wasn’t watching and I was standing too close to the edge. No big deal. I didn’t drown. Thanks to you. I don’t know how to thank you enough. You saved my life.”

“It was nothing. But you’ll have to learn to swim.”

“Or stay away from pools.”

“I can teach you.”

“That’s very nice, but…”

“Tomorrow.”

Max was still reeling from the close brush she’d had with disaster. His hands were shaking and his heart was pounding, but that could have something to do with seeing Sarah in her underwear. He got the message when she closed her eyes indicating as clearly as possible that she’d had enough of him and being fussed over, and then pointed to the door. He backed out of the room before he had a chance to ask if she wanted him to find her nightgown, that same gauzy white nightgown he’d seen her in last night. He wouldn’t mind seeing her again in or out of it. But he knew when he wasn’t wanted.

Maybe if she wore the nightgown again, she might remember what had happened last night. Maybe then they’d get it out in the open and he could ask her if she had a problem, or if she knew she had a problem.

He also wanted to know why a California girl didn’t know how to swim. Was it just because she had asthma? Lots of athletes had it. Sure, it was a problem, but not an insurmountable one. He wondered how she could think of an excuse for not learning to swim now that she lived next door to a pool, and most particularly he wanted to know why he shouldn’t teach her. One thing for sure. After today, he couldn’t have her living so close by when she couldn’t swim. Especially if she made any more unexpected visits to his house in the middle of the night. Despite the fence-enclosed pool with the locked gate, it was too dangerous and it was his responsibility to teach her, whether she wanted to learn or not.

When he got back to the party, the atmosphere had changed. There was a pall hanging over the gathering. The music continued, but no one was dancing. The guests were no longer playing games around the pool. It was as if they’d been frozen in place until he returned and assured everyone that his neighbor was fine, that no one was to blame.

Personally he thought it was possible the guests had been imbibing too much, playing ball and jumping around the pool in a careless way. They were his clients, not his friends, if that was any consolation to him. They weren’t all people he’d hang out with if he hadn’t handled their divorces. On the other hand, why didn’t she know how to swim? He was going to rectify that starting tomorrow.

The party went on for just a short time. The margaritas were still available, the food was still plentiful, but a few people had left and others were saying goodbye, as if they’d been waiting for his report before taking off, and were now blowing air kisses all around.

He was just as glad. He’d had enough of schmoozing, enough of empty chatter and pretending everything was fine. He couldn’t get Sarah out of his mind. She’d looked so vulnerable, felt so fragile in his arms, but back in her room she’d bounced back, and had been well enough to order him out. She had guts. Imagine being pushed into a pool when you couldn’t swim and recovering so fast. At least he thought she’d recovered. At soon as everyone left, he’d go back and make sure she was okay.

But when he knocked on her back door an hour later, there was no answer. He let himself in, walked up the stairs and stood in the doorway. She was lying on her side, and breathing evenly. He heaved a sigh of relief.

It was dusk, but from the pale beams of the night-light, he could see her face was flushed, her eyelashes shadowing her cheek. He stood there for a long moment, the faint smell of eucalyptus in the air. Oh, yes, the nuts from the tree on her bedside table. He picked them up and inhaled the fragrance. Hadn’t she noticed? Hadn’t she wondered how they’d gotten there?

He was jarred by the ringing of her phone.

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