Phoenix Feather (18 page)

Phoebe took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded, though she still appeared to be in shock. She pushed open the doors and went back to find Chris.

Aidan’s shoulders sagged as soon as she was gone. “Thank you.”

Trent moved forward and wrapped her in a hug. “I was worried too.”

She gave a hoarse laugh. “Who knew the flu could be so scary.”

He rubbed her back and sighed. “I have to get back to work.”

She pulled back. “I know.” She wanted him to stay, wanted to ask him to stay, but didn’t want to make it harder for him.

“Uh, the doctor mentioned admitting him overnight, just for observation,” Trent said. “Chris was against it.” He furrowed his brow. “I don’t know whether to respect his wishes or hit him over the head.”

Aidan understood. “I’ll talk to the doctor.”

“I wish I didn’t have to leave you alone to referee.”

She sighed at the prospect. Chris wanted to go home. Phoebe wouldn’t want him taking any chances. “I’ll manage.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the fire engine pull into view. She nodded in their direction.

Trent turned around and acknowledged them with a wave. He gave her one more hug before letting go. “Let me know what happens. I’ll come by wherever he ends up staying.”

“Okay.” Aidan watched him leave, her heart aching from the space his absence left, especially when she needed him there, to hug, to hold her up. She could afford little lapses in being the strong one when he was around. It was odd—she had never considered herself the type to need such breaks from that role, in fact she had always been strong naturally, self-reliant and independent. How different this life was for her. Was humanity changing her? Or were there still things about herself after all this time that she had left to discover? She’d have to mull it over later. Right now, she had to resume the strong and supportive role, and go check on Chris and Phoebe.

She passed through the mechanical doors and looked for the number two above the curtained rooms. The ceiling curtain hung open, bunched to one side; Chris lay propped up in a bed with Phoebe standing next to him and holding his hand. He looked pale and tired, but Trent was right, it looked like the flu. It still would have felt less distressful if he were at home in his own bed.

“Hey,” Aidan said.

Chris smiled at her. “Hey.” His voice sounded tired, but not as bad as when he had come out of surgery.

“I heard you caught a bug.”

He sighed dramatically. “I guess I just needed more attention. Where’s Trent?”

“He had to go back to work. He’ll come see you tomorrow.”

Chris nodded. “He’s a good fireman. Did you know they respond to people who pass out on the street?” He said it almost humorously. “I always thought they just fought fires all day.”

Aidan grinned. “Yeah, he does more than that.” She sat down at the foot of his bed.

“Will they keep you overnight?” Phoebe asked.

Aidan caught the slight flash in Chris’s eyes, even though he calmly replied that they wouldn’t need to. Maybe she could find a way to talk to the doctor alone first…

Chris shifted under the sheet. “Could you find a nurse? I’m really thirsty.”

Aidan jumped up. “No problem.” She walked to the counter in the middle of the ER. “Can he have some water?” she asked a nurse. The guy looked toward Curtain Two and said he’d have to check with the doctor first.

Aidan waited, glancing around at the other patients who occupied beds. A mother rocked a young child in her lap while he breathed vapor through a long tube. Another man lay flat on his back, hooked up to one IV. He hadn’t been changed into a hospital gown and his clothes looked ragged and filthy. Aidan could smell a faint whiff of alcohol in that direction. She hadn’t been in a hospital since the early 1900s, and only then as a visitor. She’d never had need of a doctor for being sick or hurt. The phoenix had incredible regenerating powers, so injuries never remained for long. Accidents had sometimes caused tension when people noticed, and she had to hide the fact that she had healed much more quickly than any mortal would have. Most of the time though, she had the senses to ward off harm.

The nurse returned with the message that Chris could have ice chips only, and he directed Aidan to the machine where she could get some. The doctor would come by in a bit to talk to them. Aidan got a plastic cup, filled it with ice chips, and grabbed a plastic spoon from a group in a paper cup on top of the machine. She returned to Chris and handed Phoebe the cup so she could spoon-feed him.

“Are you feeling better?” Aidan asked.

Chris lifted the hand with the IV line. “This stuff is very nice.”

Phoebe laughed. “It’s not even something strong like morphine and he likes it.”

Aidan waited for the doctor to arrive. Then the refereeing would begin. She didn’t have to wait in anticipation long; he arrived only a few minutes later, clipboard in hand.

“Hello Mr. Anders. I’m Dr. Lee. Your test results look good. I’ve spoken to your oncologist and he agrees that there’s no sign of anything to be concerned about in relation to the cancer. But we think you should stay overnight, keep the fluids going, just to make sure we get this taken care of right away.”

“No,” Chris said forcefully. “I’d rather go home.”

“The doctor says you need to stay,” Phoebe argued.

“Is there a problem if he goes home?” Aidan asked.

Dr. Lee furrowed his brow. “No, he is fit to go home if he wants. He needs to get lots of fluids down though. That’s very important if we don’t want to see him back here in two days.”

“I can do that,” Chris promised.

“What else if he goes home?” Aidan asked.

“Why are you being so stubborn?” Phoebe asked Chris, and shot Aidan an irritated glare.

“Because I’m not dying and I want to be in my own bed,” he said, and threw Aidan an appreciative look.

She sighed, knowing the thin line she walked, and how she couldn’t get away without upsetting one of them. “We promise to make sure he does what he needs to,” she told Dr. Lee.

He nodded reluctantly. “Okay. We’ll keep him the full six hours he’s allowed to be in the ER, push as many fluids as we can, and then discharge him.”

“Thank you.”

Phoebe pouted and began to pace. As soon as her back turned, Chris mouthed a “thank you” to Aidan.

“I’ll go call Trent,” she said. “Try to rest.” Phoebe would forgive them both. Chris, as much as she, needed a sense of control, and he wouldn’t find it in a hospital. Aidan understood that. She also understood Phoebe’s belief that if Chris stayed in the hospital, it meant doctors were in control, and therefore the disease was in control. But control was an illusion. In any case, Aidan hoped she had made the right call.

She stepped outside and left Trent a voice mail. The pre-winter air felt good in her nose and throat—sharp and poignant. Her stomach rumbled and Aidan realized she had missed lunch. A Carl’s Jr. stood across the street from the hospital, so Aidan went back in and offered Phoebe the chance to get food first while Aidan stayed with Chris, but Phoebe insisted that Aidan go.

It was a short walk, but it had started to rain, and by the time she got inside it was pouring. Aidan didn’t have an umbrella, so it either needed to let up by the time she finished eating, or she’d have to dash back and get soaked. She ordered a burger combo and took a seat in the corner next to a window where she could gaze at the hospital. The lights from its paneled windows shimmered on the slick asphalt as if it were polished glass.

Now that she was alone, Aidan suddenly felt like crying. The tension and adrenaline were wearing off, leaving her feeling desolate and betrayed, like Fate had played a mean trick on them today, daring to pluck Chris out of the world, and then giving him back with a “fooled you!” She was glad it was just the flu, but it felt cruel nonetheless.

People moved around her slowly, as though they were wading through knee-deep water, like the rain pouring down the drains lapped against them, trying to pull them down. Ugh. Aidan was disgusted with herself. Never had she felt so melancholic and depressed. So what if people died? They had been dying since the beginning. No one lives forever. She tried to rile herself up with callous thoughts, but it didn’t work. Discouraged, she dumped the rest of her fries in the garbage and headed for the door. It was still pouring. She moved like everyone else seemed to—slow and drugged. Someone held the door open for her, and she vaguely remembered murmuring a thank you. It was as though she was walking in a dream world, everything gray and reflecting, quiet yet rhythmic with the steady patter of raindrops. She needed to get out of it. She managed to spur herself into a run back to the hospital and inside the ER where the clamor of televisions and people and the bustling about of nurses snapped Aidan back to reality. She took a deep breath and went back to Chris and Phoebe.

Phoebe sat in a chair against the wall. Chris appeared to be asleep. “Aidan!” she gasped quietly. “You’re soaked.”

She shrugged. “It’s raining. Is he sleeping?”

“Yes. I’ll ask the nurse for a towel or something.” Phoebe hurried away, leaving Aidan feeling touched. Even with Chris being the one in bed, Phoebe never forgot to take care of Aidan as well. That was how it worked between them. Yes, this was the environment she needed to keep herself in. No more going off alone to wallow, she decided. Maybe she should invest in an iPod for those times she couldn’t avoid being alone, such as on her way to class or work, or right before she went to sleep.

But she was alone, a small, dark whisper stirred deep inside her. When seventy years had passed and everyone she loved was gone, she’d die and come back, never to see them again.

Aidan sank into the chair and dropped her head in her hands. She decided right then and there that she hated hospitals with a passion. She looked at Chris’s sleeping form and knew today probably wouldn’t be her last visit. She sighed and smiled sweetly at him. That was okay though. She’d follow her friends through hell if that were what they had to go through.

Chapter Sixteen

“That smells great, Trent.” Phoebe craned her neck over the back of the sofa to peer into the kitchen.

Aidan looked up from her books and focused on distinguishing the smells of Trent’s cooking. Chris was home from the ER and resting as he was supposed to, wrapped in blankets and sprawled on the couch. Aidan and Phoebe sat on the loveseat, surrounded by textbooks. Finals were next week, and in an attempt to help them out, Trent had volunteered to come over and fix them all dinner. Aidan could smell shrimp—Trent seemed to be a seafood lover—garlic, and bell peppers.

Chris snapped his fingers and pointed back to Phoebe’s textbook. “You’re supposed to be studying.”

“Fine.” She thrust the book at him. “Quiz me.”

Aidan set her own books aside and went into the kitchen. “Can I help?”

The counters were covered with vegetables, plates, and measuring utensils. Trent was mixing cornstarch with soy sauce in a bowl.

“You can mince the ginger,” he said. “How’s the studying going?”

“I’m not worried.” Aidan shared a secretive smile with him. In fact, at this point she was just keeping up an act for Chris to assure him that she wasn’t shirking her studies out of concern for him.

“How long is the Winter Break?”

“Six wonderfully long weeks,” she replied, but inside she suspected they wouldn’t seem so long. “Do you have plans for Christmas?”

Trent smiled as though he had been waiting for that topic. “I have the week off.”

Aidan finished mincing the ginger and put it in the pan at Trent’s direction. “You and Bryan aren’t going back to Texas?”

“I prefer to stay here this year.”

Aidan scooted next to him and leaned in. He smelled faintly of smoke, a scent she had grown to like. “I think I’d like to have a taste of a Christmas dinner made by you.”

Trent turned his head and leaned it against hers. “I wouldn’t mind having another fancy dessert made by you.”

“Hmm,” Aidan mused. “Tiramisu sounds adventurous.”

“You know,” he said. “Christmas dinner has a number of entrees. I think you’re getting off easy with just one.”

Aidan grinned and broke away. She grabbed the asparagus and began chopping. “I’ll contract Phoebe out, how about that?”

Trent pretended to consider it for a moment. “Sounds fair,” he said nonchalantly, but grinned in return.

Aidan looked around at the ingredients. “So what is this?”

Trent leaned around her to grab a spoon. “Stir-fry.”

“I’ve seen your kitchen,” she continued. “It’s well-equipped, but is there a cooking utensil you have yet to acquire?” She chanced a look at him, hoping to see interest in his answer while disguising her own.

He stopped stirring for a moment and looked at the ceiling. “No, that’s not what I want for Christmas.”

Aidan scowled. “What
do
you want?”

“Let’s see. Your company. A delicious home-baked dessert. Mistletoe.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Aidan put her hands on her hips. “That’s not what I was looking for.”