A Christmas Peril (The Teacup Novellas - Book Five) (2 page)

Chapter
1

“Lucy, wake up.”

Someone must have duct taped my eyes
shut. For the life of me, I couldn’t get them to open even though something or
someone kept jostling me.

“Lucy, c’mon. Wake up.”

Well, that’s just weird. Why is my
brother here?

I tried again to pry open my eyelids only
to squeeze them shut against the harsh, fluorescent-lit room. “Whoa.”

“Sorry, Sis. My arm went to sleep and
there was no way to move it without waking you.”

I took a deep breath, then wished I
hadn’t. The unique, pungent hospital scent coursed through my nostrils then
raced into my brain, connecting the dots.

Hospital.

I startled. “How long have I been asleep?
What time is it? Has the doctor been in? Is Mark still unconscious?”

“Hey, take it easy.”
Chad
stood and stretched his arms over his head. “Oh man, am I
stiff. I feel like a truck ran over‍—‍” He winced. “I can’t believe
I just said that. I’m sorry, Lucy.”

I stared at him, too tired to string
together a sarcastic response. I looked around the waiting room. “Nothing yet?”

“Not yet. I’ve got to go to the bathroom.
Will you be okay?”

“Go.”

The clock on the wall showed the big hand
on the six and the little hand on the two. It was still dark outside, but I
wasn’t sure if it was
6:10
or
2:30
.

“Lucy!”

Mark’s sister rushed across the waiting room
toward me, her rolling suitcase in tow. “Shelly!” We embraced in an urgent, awkward
hug. “I’m so glad you made it.” Shelly had been in
New York
submitting a proposal of some kind. I’d reached her shortly
after we arrived at the hospital.

She pulled back to look at me. “I took
the last flight out of LaGuardia. How’s Mark? Have you heard anything? Can I
see him?” Before I could answer she pulled me into another hug. “Oh, Lucy, tell
me this isn’t really happening.”

“I keep asking myself the same question. He’s
in ICU. No, we can’t seem him yet, but soon, hopefully. We haven’t heard
anything in the last couple of hours. Dr. Bradley told us Mark was still unconscious,
but he seemed to indicate that was a good thing because they need to keep him
sedated to allow the swelling in his brain to go down.”

“Brain swelling?” she groaned. “I hear
the words, but I can’t comprehend that this is
my brother
we’re talking
about.”

“Did someone say brother?”
Chad
returned, opening his arms to give her a bear hug. “How’re
you doing, Shelly?”

“Better now that I’m here, but I think
I’m still in shock or something.”

Shelly was four years older than Mark,
but they’d clearly come from the same gene pool. While he stood six-four,
Shelly had to stretch to make five-four. Otherwise, they had the same sable
eyes, same contagious smiles, and same perfect skin tone that easily tanned.
But where Mark’s sandy brown hair seemed forever sun-kissed with natural
highlights, Shelly’s was a rich, natural blonde‌—‌the kind women
spend fortunes for in salons. And it always looked perfect. Even now, with a
pony tail tucked up under a pink ball cap and spilling out the back.

While the physical resemblance was
apparent, their personalities were nothing alike. Mark was smart, laid back,
and charming. He loved to laugh, and the sound of his unrestrained guffaws was
one of my favorite sounds in the world. He loved life, and everyone loved him.
Shelly never knew a stranger either, but hers was a more assertive personality.
Not a control freak, but she definitely knew how to get things done and never
shied away from a challenge. Which came in handy since she was a successful
architect in a profession still dominated by men.

“Ladies, let’s have a seat.”
Chad
grabbed Shelly’s suitcase and parked it behind the seating
area where we’d kept vigil for the past seven or eight hours.

Shelly tucked a leg beneath her and
folded her arms across her chest. “My flight had Wi-Fi, so I was able to find
the video footage online. I must have watched it twenty times, but I still
can’t comprehend that the guy they wheeled into the ambulance was my baby brother.”

“It’s surreal, isn’t it?”
Chad
rubbed his eyes. “But all things considered, it’s a miracle
he wasn’t killed.”

“Had to be a God thing. How else would
you explain it?” Shelly shivered and rubbed her arm. “So catch me up. What’s
the extent of Mark’s injuries?”

“At this point, the main concern is the
severity of his concussion,”
Chad
said. “No one seems to know how it is he
fell out of the truck. Was he pushed? Did he try to escape? His feet and hands
were bound, and his mouth was gagged with several yards of duct tape.”

Shelly groaned again, closing her eyes.

“Dr. Bradley said Mark’s right shoulder is
also shattered,” I added, “which may indicate that his shoulder took the brunt
of his fall before his head hit. Otherwise, his neck might have been broken.” I
pressed another mascara-stained Kleenex against my eyes. “Last we heard, they
were still checking for other internal injuries. But it’s his brain I’m so
worried about. What if‍—‍”

“Lucy, don’t go there.”
Chad
patted my knee. “We don’t know yet.”

“
Chad
’s right,” Shelly said, grabbing my hand
in both of hers. “Let’s just thank God Mark is alive and breathing, okay?”

Chad
patted my knee again then stood up. “I’ll go see if I can
find some fresh coffee. If Bradley comes back, ring my cell, okay?”

I nodded then watched him head down the
hall.

Shelly leaned back on the gray sofa. “I’m
so glad he’s been here for you.”

“Me too. I can’t imagine going through
this all alone. The UPS folks were here until
midnight
.
Mark’s friend Gordo just left an hour ago. They’ve all been great, but I was
glad when they left. I’ve written about scenes like this in my books, but
living it?” I shook my head. “I realized there comes a time in situations like
this when you just want to be left alone. Except for family, of course.”

“I know. You feel like you have to stay
strong and communicative when everyone’s gathered around, when all you really want
to do is crawl in a hole and be left alone.”

“Exactly.” I took a deep cleansing
breath. “Were you able to reach your parents? Mark told me last week they were on
a Mediterranean cruise, right?”

“Yes, and I honestly debated about
calling them. They’ve been looking forward to this trip for over a year, and I
didn’t want to spoil it for them. But I realized, if
something . . .” Shelly looked up at me, her eyes wide. “I mean,
if something were to‍—‍”

“I know,” I whispered, trying to sound braver
than I felt. “You had no choice.”

“I didn’t. I haven’t been able to reach
them yet. I’m guessing the cell service onboard those cruisers is next to none.
In the taxi on the way here from the airport, I finally tracked down their
cruise line. I told them we need to reach them for a family emergency, but who
knows when we’ll hear from them.”

I pushed what was left of my updo out of
my face. “Good thinking.”

“Knowing Mom, the minute she hears them
say ‘emergency’ she’ll get both of them packed and demand a helicopter to get
off that boat.”

“I can’t blame her. I’d do the same.”

Shelly got up as
Chad
approached with a cardboard carrier holding three cups of
coffee. “Let me help you.”

I stood too, though I’m not sure why. She
handed me a cup, and I wrapped my hands around it, welcoming its warmth.

“Oh, Lucy‌—‌what a beautiful
dress.”

I looked down, almost surprised to find I
still had on my sparkly dress. “Oh. Yeah, it’s . . . we were
going to the symphony tonight‌—‌I mean,
last
night. That’s
when I first knew something was wrong. Mark was late.”

“And Mr. UPS is never, ever late. Gotcha.”

“Never.” I straightened, willing the
knots out of my back. “I guess I’m a bit overdressed for a hospital waiting
room.”

“Which reminds me,”
Chad
said, still wincing from a sip of the hot coffee. “I
thought I’d make a run to your house in a little while. Gertie’s probably
worried sick about you.”

“Oh, Gertie,” I dropped into the nearest
chair. “How could I have forgotten her?”

“Hey, she’ll be fine. Don’t worry about
it. But I can pick up a change of clothes for you‌—‌unless you’d rather
go home and get some sleep or grab a shower?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not leaving.”

“I figured. Will you trust me to bring
something from your closet?”

“Miss Alexander?”

We stood as a doctor in scrubs made his
way toward us.

“Yes, I’m Miss Alexander. Lucy. Um, Lucy
Alexander.”

“I’m Chris Felton. I’m covering for Dr.
Bradley this morning, and he asked me to stop by and update you on Mark’s status.”

“Thank you, Dr. Felton,”
Chad
said. He introduced himself, then Shelly. “What can you tell
us?”

“Mark’s resting. He’s still comatose, but
his vitals look good. Dr. Bradley was concerned he might need to surgically
implant a ventriculostomy drain inside Mark’s brain to relieve some of the
pressure. But at this point, the swelling seems to have slowed considerably, so
he’s hoping that might not be necessary. He had to set Mark’s shoulder with a
couple dozen screws. He’ll be in a sling for quite a while. We’ve also put him
in a temporary neck brace just as a precaution. He looks pretty beat up, but as
Dr. Bradley probably told you, time will tell us the full extent of Mark’s
injuries.”

“When can we see him?” I asked, already
weary of the jargon.

“That’s actually why I’m here. I’ll take
you back‌—‌well, two of you, anyway. There’s a two person limit in
ICU.”

I shoved my coffee cup at
Chad
. “Shelly? Is it okay if I come with you?”

“I was about to ask you the same
question,” she said, setting her cup on the coffee table. “Let’s go.”

Chapter
2

I couldn’t breathe. My fists were
clenched so tight, my nails were digging into the palms of my hands. I blinked
away the tears, trying to find one single thread of composure.

Before me, Mark lay stretched out like a
zombie, almost too long for the narrow bed. His head was wrapped in gauze, much
of his face horribly bruised. The neck brace looked uncomfortable, but didn’t
seem to be bothering him, under the circumstances. His right arm was in a sling
against his body. Wires and tubes crisscrossed here and there connecting him to
monitors that beeped a steady rhythm. I reached out to place my hand on his
before noticing an IV taped to it. Instead, I curled my fingers tightly around
his thumb.

“Oh, Mark,” Shelly whispered beside me.

I was trying so hard to hold it together.
He looked so lifeless, and the mere thought of that possibility crept down my
spine. A half-sob slipped from somewhere inside me.

Shelly wound her arm around my waist and
pulled me close. “Lucy, he’s going to be okay. You know Mark. He’s tough as
nails. He’s not going to let something like a silly hostage
situation
get him down.”

We both laughed. Well, the closest thing
to it, anyway. “I suppose you’re right.”

Shelly reached out and placed her hand on
his blanket-covered knee. “So Mark, here’s the thing,” she began in her
business-as-usual voice. “You just need to take it easy for a few days. Give
that big ol’ knucklehead of yours a good rest. Don’t you worry about a thing.
Lucy and I will keep an eye on you whenever these nice folks allow us in here,
and before you know it, you’ll be back in the saddle again. Whatever that
means.”

I took another deep breath and tried to
think what to say. “Hey, buddy. You listen to your sister, okay?” I croaked, which
oddly enough, made me smile. Mark always teased me whenever I’d get choked up
or croaky.
What’s the matter, got a throat in your frog?
Oh, if only I
could hear his silly jokes right now. I carefully wound my fingers with his,
willing him to hear me.

We stood in silence for a few minutes,
Shelly’s arm still snug around my waist. It’s funny, the things you think of at
a time like that. Like Mark’s awkward approach before he tosses a bowling ball
down the lane. Gangly and impossible, yet he rarely throws anything but strikes
or spares. Or the way he always takes a bite off my plate. When we were kids,
if
Chad
did that, I’d swat his hand away. But
when Mark snagged a fry or a piece of fried okra off my plate, I found it
endearing and sweet.

I stared at the creases of his dimples.
I’d never seen dimples that deep until Mark smiled at me that first time he
made a delivery. I caught myself staring at them, thinking they’d be perfect
for the handsome hero in the book I was writing. They were so adorable, the one
on the right always tugging up the side of his face more than the other, making
his whole head appear to lean to one side; like puppies tilting their heads to
one side when they’re curious.

A nurse quietly appeared on the other
side of Mark’s bed. “I’m sorry, but it’s that time,” she said.

I knew our allotted fifteen minutes would
go fast, but I would have sworn we’d just walked in.

“No problem,” Shelly said. She patted his
leg once more and motioned for me to follow her.

I nodded, lifting my hand toward her.
Just
one more moment.
She nodded with a smile, raising her index finger‌—‌
one
minute
‌—‌before stepping out of the room. I leaned over and
traced my finger down the side of Mark’s purpled face. “I love you, Mark. I
need you to get better, okay? I’ll see you again in a little while.”

My throat closed again, so I pressed my
lips against his cheek. As I drew back, something glistened on the side of his
face. For a microsecond I thought he was crying. That’s a good sign, right? But
as I brushed away the dampness on his cheek, I realized the tear was one of mine.

Time meant nothing to me as I kept vigil
in that ICU waiting room. I despised the clock on the wall, silently, and
oh-so-slowly ticking away the yawning four-hour chasms between brief visits
back to see Mark. At some point,
Chad
brought me a change of clothes. I knew I
needed to take a shower, but for now the familiarity of my jeans and t-shirt
felt heavenly. Thank goodness he remembered to bring my navy hoodie. I have no
idea why they keep hospitals so cold. I kept expecting to find a side of beef
or two hanging in the corner of the waiting room.

So I was surprised that an entire day and
night had passed when
Chad
showed up again. He handed me a chai
latte from Starbucks, and I almost cried at its heavenly aroma.

I stood up, crawling into his
outstretched arm. “Oh,
Chad
, thank you.” My voice got all tinny and
my eyes watered. Again.

“It’s a cup of chai, Lucy. Hardly worth
crying over.” He hugged me then motioned for me to sit back down. “You, little
sister, need to go home and get some sleep.”

I knuckled away the renegade tears before
taking a sip of my chai. “I can’t leave. I won’t. Not until he comes around. Please
stop asking me to, okay?”

“Okay, okay. By the way, Gertie sends her
love.”

“I wish you could bring her to see me. I
miss her.”

“I see people with pets on almost every
flight I take these days. Supposedly, they ‘comfort’ travelers who have anxiety
issues.”

“Well, I’d definitely qualify for anxiety
issues, so go get her.”

He reached over and squeezed my hand.
“Nah, you’ve got me here to do that, right? Let Gertie enjoy her stay at Uncle
Chad
’s. I bought her a whole new bag of chew sticks.”

“You spoil her rotten. Hey, what’s in the
bag?"

Chad
reached into a reusable grocery bag from Publix. “I found
this on your front porch when I stopped by this morning.”

He handed me a large UPS bubble-pack
envelope. I turned it over and spotted my cousin Stephen’s return address label.
“Oh my gosh‌—‌this must be Aunt Lucille’s diary.” I tried to rip it
open but didn’t have the strength. My Eagle Scout brother always carried a pocketknife,
so he reached over and slit the envelope for me.

I pulled out the tissue-wrapped book and
anxiously starting unwrapping it. My eyes filled again, making me blow out an
angry huff. “Honestly, what is wrong with me? I can hardly breathe without losing
it.”

“Easy, Sis. Cut yourself some slack,
okay? So why did Stephen send you his mother’s diary?”

“It’s for my next novella. I’m loosely basing
the story on her love story with Uncle Gary.”

“Really?”

I finally freed the diary, letting the
tissue paper fall to the floor. Turning the precious book over in my hands, I
stopped and closed my eyes.
Oh, Aunt Lucille. How desperately I need to feel
your presence here with me now
. I prayed silently‌—‌wishing,
hoping, longing. Then I pressed the book against my nose and took a deep
breath. The faintest trace of her Chanel No. 5 perfume wisped its way into my
lungs, filling me with such a visceral sense of my namesake, my Aunt Lucille.
Or maybe I just imagined it so.

“Lucy?”

I opened my eyes to find my brother
gazing at me with concern. I shook my head, not even attempting to explain the
memories swirling through my mind. I clutched the book against my heart and
breathed another silent prayer of thanks. Who but God could have orchestrated
something like this? A few days ago, while doing research for my new book, I
called Stephen to ask him some questions about his parents. He tells me he’d
recently discovered his mother’s diary. He sends it to me, and it shows up in
this hospital waiting room where I’m filled with so much angst about Mark’s
injuries. Who but God would have slipped this heirloom into my hands, right
here, right now?

For such a time as this.

Exactly.

 “Miss Alexander?”

Chad
and I stood up, turning in sync at the familiar voice of
the seven-to-three shift nurse.

“Hello, Kirsten. Any news?”
Chad
asked.

“Good, and about to get even better. Dr.
Bradley has released Mark to a private room up on the eighth floor.”

I looked at
Chad
then back at Mark’s nurse. “Are you sure? Isn’t this too
early? Doesn’t he need constant monitoring? What if something happens and‍—‍”

“
If
Dr.
Bradley thinks he’s
ready to move, I guarantee it’s because Mark’s condition has improved enough to
warrant a move. Bradley’s a stickler and always errs on the side of caution, so
relax. Besides, now you can stay with Mark as long as you like. No pesky limits
on visiting hours.”

Suddenly my arms were wrapped around her.
Believe it or not, I’m not the kind of person who hugs people all the time. But
I couldn’t help it. Kirsten had just given me the best possible news. Well,
almost
the best.

“I told you it was good news,” she said,
laughing with
Chad
as he extricated me.

“So is Mark, uh, is he‍—‍”

“Conscious? No, not yet. But Dr. Bradley
said the swelling has gone down substantially, and he feels confident that Mark
will do better in his own room. He sends his apologies for not telling you
himself, but he got called away for emergency surgery. He’ll be in to talk to
you once Mark is settled.”

“And I can stay with Mark as much as I
like?”

“Absolutely. If you want to stay 24/7,
that’s perfectly all right.”

“Okay if we go up to his room now?”
Chad
asked.

“Not yet. You know how things go around
here. It could be an hour or so, but I’ll let you know just as soon as he’s
settled, okay?”

The next thing I knew,
Chad
was prying me out of another Kirsten hug. I didn’t care. Mark
would be in his own room soon, and I would stay by his side until he was ready
to go home. A few days, a couple of weeks‌—‌I didn’t care about
that either. As long as I could be there for him.

As we sat back down,
Chad
rubbed his hands together. “Well, then. Good news at last. You
go ahead and finish your chai. I’ll give Shelly a call to tell her.”

“Good idea. Thanks, bro.”

I took a sip of my chai and started
making a mental list of things I wanted
Chad
to pick up for me at the house. As he placed
the call to Shelly, it dawned on me he must have her number already logged into
his cell.

Interesting.