The car ride was silent, as the two men paid attention to the freshly paved road, each buried in thoughts that they hoped the other couldn't read. Daniel had imagined himself riding to Chloe's rescue more than a few times, hell his nights were filled with unrequited fantasies that had run the gamut from killing Lucas to buying a billboard and declaring his feelings for Chloe. None of them were based in reality, but the motion of moving in her direction was already pulling him out of his safe orbit and back into hers.
Brady didn't look as though he was doing much better, but Daniel was not the type of man to press that issue. He'd heard the rumors of Brady's broken heart for his past lover, as even Chloe had mentioned on occasion that she was sure that her ex-husband was only the right opportunity away from falling back into Nicole's clutches. It had to be hard for him, both his ex-wife and former lover were now best friends. The two women chatted often and shared secrets. He probably wondered if they were talking about him.
"We don't have long," Brady repeated, squinting into the afternoon sun. "Lucas is at work and thinks she's shopping or something. Nicole had to swear we wouldn't call you, but…I know you can help her. You have to help her."
Daniel didn't verbally respond, but he did turn and face Brady's profile. The pinched look of worry was back, as was his tight grip on the steering wheel. He knew from Chloe's own admission that Brady had taken her original leukemia diagnosis very hard. He had kept vigil by her bed both day and night. Even when she was declared cured, he had treated her as though she were a fragile doll. Chloe had complained of his constant attention, telling Daniel that it was as though her ex-husband would forever view her as a china doll. Her later car accident and subsequent injuries were only fuel the fire.
"I'll do what I can," Daniel finally said, racking his brain for any logical and hopeful reason for her deteriorating condition. He knew that the unspoken worry was that the leukemia was back. Recurrence was possible and even statistically significant in cases like hers. She had few chemotherapy treatments and the bone marrow transplant had been followed up with medication, but she had refused further transplant attempts and only reluctantly took her anti-rejection medicine daily. She had said that it was her own stubborn way of making sure that the cancer did not have control over her life.
Pulling up to the house, Brady wheeled the car through the circular driveway and parked it behind a plethora of expensive European vehicles. His Toyota looked a bit out of place, but he was already scanning the windows for something. Seeing whatever it was, he grabbed the doctor's elbow and pulled him into the mammoth house. Remarkably, he knew his way around and did not lead them from his direct path. Reaching the last door in the east wing of the mansion, he swept his knuckles on the door before pushing it open.
Nicole sat with her back to the door, holding a magazine, which she probably hadn't even bothered to turn the page on in about an hour. Her blonde hair pulled back and her eyes looked between the two men. Turning back to Chloe, she pulled up the throw blanket and leaned down to whisper to her. The men couldn't hear her, but they did note that Chloe's plump lips turned up in a slight smile.
"She's going to be pissed you're here," Nicole said, sliding past the doctor and taking Brady's arm in her own. "She said anyone but you, but I guess that's Salem for you."
She took Brady out of the room before Daniel could answer, promising him coffee and fresh baked pastries were waiting downstairs. There were no instructions, no apologies.
"Chloe," he said softly, taking in her pale complexion and worried eyes. She looked thinner than she had in his dreams, the bones of her face and arms much more pronounced and defined. There were dark circles under her eyes and when she raised her hand to greet him, it trembled with what he knew was not a sign of trepidation.
She smiled at him, though it was guarded and weak. "I told Nicole I was just having trouble shaking this flu or whatever," she said. "She panicked and called Brady, which was a mistake. God knows he was going to be the hero. Dragging you here over…"
Her fight was still there, but she was looking weak. Daniel walked slowly to the bed, his eyes still locked on hers. "I'll be the judge of it being nothing or a waste of time."
He was a bit surprised that she didn't fight him, her head bobbing in a barely discernable nod.
Swallowing roughly, he began the exam, trying to focus on the science and not her skin, scent or the tiny breaths that tickled his own senses as he was so close to her. He wore his game face, keeping his lips in a thin line and not showing any emotion as he checked all of her vital signs and even drew blood for a few tests he would run at the hospital. The only words were clinical, as he asked her when the symptoms first presented and to rate the pain and fatigue. She complied though a bit quizzical with her responses in that she wasn't sure she liked the way he was being with her.
Finally he backed away from her, allowing her to pull back up the throw that Nicole had given her. He said nothing as he packed back up the bag of instruments and busied himself writing down a few notes. The room was silent except for a bird outside the window that had perched itself in an old oak tree. So he jumped when she finally spoke.
"Is it…is it anything?" she asked timidly.
He whirled on his heel, looking down at her with less professionalism and more softness in his gaze.
"You're a doctor's daughter," he reminded her. "You know I'm not going to give you a diagnosis after a simple exam. I've got tests to run and labs to check. It's too soon."
"But you can't rule anything out," she said, still avoiding the question that was obviously on her mind. He didn't answer, which was in itself a response. No, he couldn't tell her that the cancer wasn't back. He couldn't tell her that she was going to wake up in the morning and feel just fine. There were no answers yet, which left room for the fear and doubt.
"You know that we won't know anything for a few days, but even then you should probably come in to the hospital. You and Lucas are probably worried, but don't be. I'll do the worrying. You just relax and concentrate on feeling better. Don't borrow trouble."
Hearing him say her husband's name was not a comfortable feeling. She wanted to scream at him that her husband was so concerned about her that he had not even noticed her weight loss. She had been in their shared bathroom for more than half an hour the night before to try to stop a nosebleed. He had just asked her if she had an upset stomach. No, he wasn't worried. She wasn't sure she could handle it if he was worried. It was easier to lie.
Brady and Nicole had dropped her off about an hour before Lucas was due home. She had ordered dinner for him, relegating herself to the couch to sleep for a few minutes before he and Will would return. She knew Will wouldn't stay for dinner, as he was planning some romantic date in the park. That would leave her alone with her husband, something she should have felt better about.
She was just drifting off as the phone began to ring, shattering any peace that she was trying to reach. Blindly, she felt around for the receiver and finally put to her ear. "Hello," she mumbled, immediately remembering why she should have checked the caller id. Her mother's voice was loud and clear on the other line.
"You actually picked up," Nancy Wesley said, a clear note sarcasm evident. "Should I thank you or wonder what is going on?"
"Hi Mom," she said, resigning herself to a meddlesome phone call. All daughters went through it, but Chloe felt that each conversation was an attack. Nancy was not the approving woman, especially when it came to Lucas. Nancy blamed Chloe for giving up on her first marriage and thought she had rushed into the second one with little regard for anyone but herself. Lucas was older, but he had a known drinking problem that made him a worry to Nancy.
Chloe closed her eyes as she listened to her mother. She chimed in when she had to, but for the most part she just listened. She wanted to scream. She wanted to tell her mother that no she wasn't happy. She wanted to beg for help, but she wasn't sure how to do it. So she stayed silent, holding in the emotions that were stirring inside of her. It was easier that way.
The room was cold and she pulled the blanket up to cover her skin. She was never warm any longer, always looking for sweaters and blankets to stop the stinging onslaught of the air on her skin. It was as though the earth itself was conspiring against her. The air was too cool and the room spun with uncontrolled abandon to only her eyes. A part of her wished she could tell her mom how she felt. She almost did, but the words didn't come.
Instead, she played the resentful daughter card when what she needed was for someone – anyone – to see her.
