In a Heartbeat - Elizabeth Adler [113]
For Mel, it was as though a great cloud had lifted. The worry; the stress; the fear for Ed, for Riley, for the lives of those she loved. She held on to Camelia’s hand and squeezed it. “Whatever would I have done without you?”
Camelia shrugged uncomfortably. “Some other member of the NYPD would have taken care of you, ma’am. We are only here to serve.”
“Oh, sure. Over and above the call of duty.” She squeezed his hand again. “Riley said to say thank you. She’s going to write you a letter.”
“I’ll have it framed. We don’t get many letters of thanks.”
A doctor appeared in the doorway. “You’re looking better,” he said to Mel. “We have a demand for your presence upstairs in Mr. Vincent’s room. Feel up to the trip?”
“Up to it?” She flung back the sheets, swung her legs over the side of the bed, grimacing with pain and laughing at the same time. “I can’t wait,” she said as they helped her into a wheelchair and wrapped her in a blanket.
Camelia watched them go. “Oh, by the way,” he called. Mel turned. “Tell Ed there’ll be a couple of good Bonnards on the auction block before too long.”
Her laughter floated back to him.
70
Ed was propped up in bed with a small mountain of pillows. There were no more tubes, no ventilator, no catheters. Just the ever-present monitor, marking his steady, even heartbeat.
It was ironic, he thought, that in trying to kill him, Mitch had succeeded in bringing him back from the dead. His brother almost qualified as Dr. Frankenstein, except now Mitch was the dead one. He sighed. It had been a long, hard haul. He wasn’t sure he could even remember those endless twilight dreams of the here, and the hereafter. It didn’t matter anymore. Zelda was with him.
The nurse wheeled her to the side of his bed, and for a long moment they looked at each other.
She was pale under that peachy golden tan, big-eyed with emotion, unable to speak. He shook his head, marveling at her. She had jump-started his heart, blown away the cobwebs of the past weeks. And she was knock-your-socks-off beautiful, in an oddly innocent yet sexy kind of way. He smiled as he reached for her hand.
Mel was lost in his gaze. She was so grateful to him just for living, she could have wept. Instead, she dropped a kiss on his hand.
Light as gossamer, he thought, remembering their nights of love together.
“You don’t look bad for a guy who almost didn’t make it,” she said tremulously.
“I made it because I needed to get back to you.” His hand gripped hers tightly and she flashed him that familiar smile.
“Flatterer.”
“You bet,” he said. “Just prepare to hear that kind of stuff for the rest of your days.”
“I was here for you, Ed.” She was wondering if he recalled anything, or whether it was all lost in the blackness of the coma.
“I know. And thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Suddenly shy, she didn’t know what to say to this newly alive person, and yet she had spilled her guts to him when he was unconscious. “I might have to get to know you all over again.”
He laughed. “Just think of what fun that will be.”
Their eyes locked again. Then Mel levered herself from the wheelchair onto the edge of the bed. She swung her damaged leg up first, and the rest of her followed. She rolled over until she was lying next to him.
His arm was around her, his mouth on hers. They clung together, never wanting to let go.
When they finally came up for air, she laughed. “Whatever will the nurses say when they find me here?” she asked with that contagious giggle.
He looked at her and grinned. “Frankly, my dear,” he said in his best Rhett voice, “I don’t give a damn.”
71
“The truth will out,” Detective Camelia said to them much later.
“It sure will,” Mel replied thankfully.
“Mom always said Mitch was a changeling.” Ed’s voice was still only a rough whisper. “She knew he was no good.”
“And she was right.” Camelia stood looking down at the man