Chapter 14

The next morning, I hurried downstairs, in a rush to get to work to see him, poured myself a cup of coffee, and darted out the door, headed toward work.

I pulled into the parking lot as thoughts of Lance filled my mind, conflicted about what to do. There weren't many men like him anymore with his chivalry and kindness. I loved watching him with Crissy last night and I was sure that he would make good on his promise to visit her again. I took a deep breath, pushed the images of Lance from my mind, and headed into the hospital.

"Morning," I said as I passed the receptionist.

She nodded cheerfully, then turned her attention to a patient who was checking in, one I was sure I'd see later.

After depositing my purse in my locker and donning a lab coat and my stethoscope, I headed out to the floor, but Drake called out to me when he saw me come in. "Dr. Reynolds, I'd like for you to follow me please." He walked down a corridor, expecting me to follow, without saying another word.

Oh, shit! What's going on now? At least he didn't seem mad this time, concerned was more the word. "Drake, I have patients " I said, but I followed, anyway, wondering if I really wanted to know where this was leading.

"They can wait. Dr. Nash is on duty," Drake said, hitting the elevator up button.

"Drake, what's going on?" I asked, unable to take the suspense.

He didn't reply, but stepped into the elevator and I did the same. A moment later, the doors opened and he walked at a brisk pace down the hallway, and then made an abrupt left turn down another hallway.

Shit! This is Crissy's floor. What the hell is going on? Tears welled up in my eyes as I feared the worst. I followed him until we stopped in front of her door.

Drake motioned toward the door. "Take a look," he said, his expression unreadable.

"Drake, you're scaring me," I said, not wanting to look inside. "What's going on?"

Drake held the door open for me without another word, stepping back to let me enter.

I peeked into the room and the scent of roses wafted to the hallway. On the nightstand, the dark blonde wig was missing from the mannequin head. I opened the door wider hesitantly. The sheets were pulled taught across the bed, freshly made and my heart sank. "Drake, what happened?" I asked as tears welled up behind my eyes, threatening to spill over.

"That's what I'd like to know," Drake replied as his eyebrows pulled together.

Beside the mannequin head and throughout the room set dozens of roses in every color, creating the powerful scent. I picked up the card and tears slid soundlessly down my cheeks.

It was written in Italian, so I held the card out to Drake. "Do you know what this says?"

He took the card abruptly with an exasperated breath and read, "Thank you for the wonderful evening. Your beauty pales beside these roses, but I hope they will bring you joy in the days ahead. May the journey ahead be illuminated and your burden, light. Meeting you was an inspiration. Your personality is a breath of fresh air. Thank you for sharing it with me. Your Friend Always, Lance Steel."

When he finished, tears were coursing down my cheeks and I was unable to speak. "There was something about her I thought she would make it," I said as my shoulders began to shake.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Drake asked.

"Ciao, il dottor Reynolds," a familiar voice suddenly said from behind me.

My breath caught, for when I turned around, Crissy was walking into the room, wearing the wig. The light blonde streaks in her wig caught the sunlight, creating an angelic effect. "Crissy!" I said, rushing across the room to pull her into my arms for a hug. "Come ti senti?"

I asked her how she was feeling and she replied, "Magnifico!"

Her parents came in next, chattering happily in Italian as they gave me air kisses over both cheeks, and I assumed that it was about their daughter's miraculous recovery. Tears of joy were in their eyes as Drake spoke with them in Italian, and I turned my attention to Crissy. Even though it appeared that she was healed, the oncologist would want to keep her in the hospital for a few more days for tests to be sure. I was sure that Drake had explained it to her parents.

I tried to get her to lie down to rest, but she shook her head, saying that she felt, "Magnifico." She struggled for the words then said, "Please thank you Lance Steel."

I smiled, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. "I will," I promised.

Later, as we were walking down the hallway, Drake turned and stopped me, the crease between his eyebrows prominent. "What happened?"

I laughed and replied, "Well, obviously, she made a miraculous recovery."

"Not that," Drake said, looking around to ensure that we were alone. "The card," he said, shaking his head. "Did you bring Lance here?"

"Yes, of course. Lance was with me last night when I stopped in to check on her and he spoke with her in Italian," I answered, confused. "Why?"

I stepped closer to look into his eyes. "You don't think that he had anything to do with her recovery, do you? That's absurd."

Drake took a deep breath. "Never mind," he said, then pointed his finger at me. "Just forget it, Leila. And don't tell anyone what happened." Then, he walked away.

"What did happen?" I asked Drake's retreating back, but he just held up a hand over his head, gesturing that he didn't want to speak about it further as he disappeared around a corner, quicker than I would have thought possible.

I stood in the hallway, stunned, and I couldn't help but wonder what had happened, why Drake was so upset with Lance, and what he could possibly have to do with Christina's recovery.