Double Jeopardy (5 page)

In his spacious rooftop loft in Gastown, the oldest area in Vancouver and one of the latest to be gentrified, Ben smoothed his clay covered fingers over the head of a child he’d just finished molding and then stood back to inspect his creation, nearly tripping over his dog, Grendel. The dog yelped a protest.

“If you’d move away from under my feet, this wouldn’t happen,” Ben reminded him as he patted an apology.

He smiled with satisfaction at his sculpture. It was the head of a full cheeked three year old boy whose overwhelming curiosity and irrepressible exuberance were clearly evident in the wide grin, the raised eyebrows, the smiling eyes, the thatch of impossible hair that insisted on standing on end despite the efforts of the city’s best children’s stylist.

“Gotcha, Stanley Brulotte, you rascal.” He peered at the photographs he’d been working from and, as always, felt a surge of affection for his outrageous little godson.

Greg and Lily had produced a child who challenged them at every turn, taxed them to their limits and made everyone laugh.

Ben adored him, but limited his visits to two hours, max. The Brulotte household wasn’t exactly geared to peace and tranquility, and when Stanley’s new sister or brother arrived in a couple of months, the situation could only get worse.

A glance at the old fashioned alarm clock he kept on the table surprised him. It was long after midnight, and he had a surgery at 7:00 A.M. Past time to clean up the clay, shower and head for bed.

He covered his creation carefully with a wet cloth and, after washing his hands, dialed the surgical ward to check once again on Gemma Cardano. He was relieved to hear that she was still doing well. It seemed that the universe was smiling on him, he concluded as he and his dog headed up the stairs. If she made it through these first twenty-four hours without nasty complications, chances were good that the real danger was over. The reconstruction would be challenging, but certainly not life threatening.

He yawned and thought of his patient’s sister, Sera Cardano. Twinning was a phenomenon that had always intrigued him, particularly from a medical standpoint. He’d recently read an article in a medical journal about identical twin males in their sixties who ended up in the same hospital on the same day with heart attacks and similar blockages of the coronary arteries. The chance of such a thing being coincidence was virtually nil.

How would it feel to have someone have the same life experiences as you at the same time, to have a constant reminder of how you looked, talked, laughed? Most people, he knew, had little or no true concept of how they appeared to others. He could draw anyone, with uncanny accuracy, from memory; it was a gift he’d had since childhood. But he’d have a difficult time drawing his own face without looking in a mirror, Ben mused. There was something about living inside a body that made it difficult to envision how that body looked to someone else’s eyes...unless you were an identical twin.

Ben opened the window wide, checked the alarm and set the clock back on the packing case that doubled as a bedside table, idly reminding himself that he should do something about furniture. He’d lived here over a year now and the only area he’d bought anything for was the studio. Why couldn’t he walk into a furniture store and purchase a couple roomfuls? Why did shopping always get put at the bottom of the list of things to attend to? Because life held so many other intriguing things to do, and buying furniture was not his idea of a good time.

He climbed into bed and, after the usual tussle, Grendel settled on his dog mattress nearby. Every night without fail, the dog tried to climb in beside Ben.

Figuring himself out was hard enough, Ben decided with a yawn as he began to slide into sleep, without there being two of him. The Cardano twins intrigued him, from a scientific standpoint, of course. Although he couldn’t help but be aware that his patient’s sister was an attractive woman.

Even a dedicated physician with a fondness for science wasn’t immune to the power of testosterone, he told himself with a grin just before he slipped into sleep.

Gemma struggled with every ounce of her will to wake up, to make sense of the buzzing voices, the monotonous sounds, that penetrated the void.

Wake up
. She needed to wake up. It must be night because she couldn’t see. Where was she? Low-grade anxiety came and went again.

“Can you hear me, Ms. Cardano? Gemma, can you hear me?”

The female voice, repeating itself endlessly, nagging, irritated her. She could hear. Why couldn’t she see?

Terrible headache. Her face hurt

Scraps of memory floated back, nightmarish recollections, of being strapped to a stretcher, of not being able to scream even though the pain was unbearable.

Panicked, she struggled harder to open her eyes.

She couldn’t.

Blind. She must be blind.

God, oh please God, not blind.

Gemma began to shudder, and whimpering sounds came from her throat. They surprised her, because they didn’t sound like noises she’d ever made before.

Something was terribly wrong with her throat. Something was very wrong, as well, with her jaw. It hurt in a way it had never hurt before, a monumental ache that made it impossible to lie still. With a huge effort, she lifted a hand—and encountered a tube in her neck.

“Ms. Cardano, don’t struggle, please. Your eyes are swollen shut. You’ll be able to see once the swelling is gone. Your jaw was fractured and it’s wired shut. You have a tube in your throat to make breathing easier. It’s three in the morning, the day after your accident Try to relax. Being relaxed is the fastest way to speed healing.”

Eyes, jaw? God, what else?

She tried to ask, but the horrible croaking was all she could manage.

Thirsty, she was horribly thirsty, and her throat hurt like hell. She tried to raise her hand again, gesture at her neck, but her hand felt disconnected from the rest of her. It flopped back down on the sheet before she could make it do what she wanted.

The nurse guessed. “I know you must be thirsty, and I’m sorry, but I can’t give you water just yet. We’ll have to wait until we’re sure you can swallow. You have a drip in your arm that’s putting fluid into your body. I’m going to give you a shot now in your thigh. It’ll help you rest. The more you rest the better. There’s a call button right here....”

Cool fingers took her hand and positioned it.

“Try to relax now, Ms. Cardano.”

Rage flared. Who was this idiot telling her to relax? And she couldn’t even holler that she hated needles. She tensed, waiting for the sickening instant when the needle penetrated her skin, but she barely felt it because the pain in her head, in her neck, was red and hot. After an interminable time it ebbed slightly and Gemma tried to concentrate, to remember the details of what had happened to her, but there was only a blur of separate moments with no connection between them. She clearly remembered driving to work in the early morning, cursing the rain because it was supposed to be summer.

Then there was a doctor, his deep voice soothing, telling her she was going to the operating room. And then the void came rushing up and swallowed her once more.

Darkness, and again a voice, one she recognized this time.

“Gemma? It’s Mama, carissima.”

She had no memory of time passing, nothing to indicate where she’d been, only the darkness fading gradually as she became conscious again. She felt incredible relief, knowing her mama was beside her, holding her hand.

“Papa’s here, too. It’s six in the morning. He’s just gone to talk to the nurse.”

Gemma tensed, waiting for the sickening ache to start in her head, but it was duller. She felt nauseous, though, which was terrifying because she couldn’t open her mouth. What would she do if she had to throw up? Panic shot through her, and she clutched at her mother’s hand.

“They told us you woke up earlier,” Mama was saying. “Cara mia, I should have stayed with you all night. I shouldn’t have listened when they said go home.”

It sounded like Mama was trying not to cry. Mama cried easily, so Gemma couldn’t gauge the gravity of the situation from her. She’d know better when Papa came. She could always tell from the timbre of Papa’s voice exactly how serious a thing was.

But it was Sera she really wanted. Sera could tell her the things Gemma needed answered, and she’d tell her the truth. One thing about Sera, she was big on truth.

Somehow Mama knew. “I called your sister. She should be here soon.”

Staying awake was hard. The blackness ate her without warning, and again it seemed that no time elapsed before she heard a voice. Sera’s voice.

“Em? Hi, Gemma. It’s me.”

Gemma moved her hand, blindly searching for Sera’s, and there was incredible comfort in the strength of her sister’s cool, firm grasp.

“They’re going to take your breathing tube out as soon as you’re fully awake. Then it’ll be easier for you.”

Gemma tugged impatiently on Sera’s hand. She needed to find out...

Sera understood. “I don’t know how much you remember, Em. You got hit in the face....” Sera gulped and when she went on Gemma knew that it was pretty radical.

“You got hit in the face with a two-by-four. The bones in your face are smashed.”

Her face was smashed? Gemma’s heartbeat accelerated, and icy fear sluiced through her veins, but she tugged again on Sera’s hand. She had to find out everything; had to.

“You’ll be able to see as soon as the swelling goes down. Your eyes are fine. Your doctor’s Ben Halsey. He’s il primo as far as plastic surgeons go. He’s going to fix everything as soon as you get stabilized. He’s going to use me as a model, so you’ll look exactly like me all over again unless you tell him you want some changes.”

Gemma understood that Sera was trying to diminish the impact of what had happened. But she could tell just by the way Sera sounded that it was major.

"Personally, I’d hit him up for a shorter nose and smaller ears, Em.”

They’d always joked about getting Papa’s nose and Nonna’s ears.

“We all feel pretty helpless. There doesn’t seem a lot we can do to make this easier for you. Papa and Mama are staying here, but I have to go to work for a while, there’s a problem with the set. I’ll be back, probably by noon. It’s seven thirty now. I have to run. See you in a couple hours, Em.”

Gemma felt Sera lift her hand, open the palm and press a kiss into it. “Bye, Gemma. Hang in there. I’ll be back soon.”

Gemma wanted to scream at Sera, tell her that she had no right to leave. Didn’t she understand that Gemma needed her? But she couldn’t talk and her entire head was hurting again, sharp and terrifying. She scrabbled desperately at the sheet, and suddenly her father’s work hardened hand enfolded her fingers.

“
Be still, principessa. Papa’s right here. I’ll be right here beside you all day. You go to sleep now.” She felt incredible comfort and reassurance in her father’s presence, and with a sense of relief she allowed herself to slip back into oblivion and let time pass.

CHAPTER FOUR

Four days had passed since the accident, and Sera sat for the first time in Ben Halsey’s office, in a high backed upholstered chair that looked beautiful but was decidedly uncomfortable. The seat was too shallow and the back didn’t adjust. The angle was exactly wrong for any human spine.

She shifted from side to side, cursing whoever had designed such a monstrosity, wondering nervously just exactly what Halsey required of her. She’d changed her clothes twice this morning before deciding on the straight cut navy twill skirt and the short sleeved baby-blue vest over a white T- shirt. Why she’d fuss over her clothes just to come to see a doctor she couldn’t explain. Normally she threw on coveralls or jeans or walking shorts and a shirt without any fuss at all.

“Ms. Cardano, good to see you.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“Hello, Dr. Halsey.”

He took the chair opposite, a match to the torturous one she sat in. A small, scarred round table stood between the chairs, instead of a desk. If that was an attempt to make the office more like a living room, it failed miserably, Sera thought. The place could do with a coat of paint in a more cheerful color than this dull mushroom shade, and lordie, Halsey needed to spring for different chairs. He also could use a few big green plants to give the room more of a feeling of tranquility, she concluded. The art on the walls was excellent, however.