Chapter Eleven
Isobel regained consciousness on the short journey over the Coronado Bay Bridge. The ambulance took her straight to emergency admissions, where two harassed medics rushed her in on a stretcher to an examination room. Her leg and arm ached, and her head pulsated with the numb dull throb of controlled pain.
She fidgeted under her straps while she waited to be attended to. One of the paramedics briefed the doctor, her embarrassment growing at being the source of such drama. She looked around but saw no sign of Lance and couldn’t hide her disappointment. Yet at the same time, she reasoned, what right did she have to expect him to be her Good Samaritan? He had offered her friendship and she had dismissed him in no uncertain terms. “Pride comes before a fall,” she muttered, and allowed herself an ironic laugh. She would just have to manage alone.
She sat upright on the stretcher and swung her legs down, wincing from the pain.
“You have been lucky, Mrs. Roberts,” said the doctor. “The helmet you were wearing may have saved your life. Apart from a mild concussion, you have sustained only minor cuts and bruising, unlike your bike…”
“What about the headache?”
“Not unusual after a bang to the head,” he said, smiling, “The pain you’re feeling is something that I may be able to help with now.”
He put his hands to the back of Isobel’s head and applied pressure to her skull. “I’m just going to make a minor adjustment, please hold still, you have nothing to worry about.” He jerked her head sideways.
“Has that eased the pain?”
To Isobel’s amazement, it had. “Yes, I think so.”
“The nurse will attend to your cuts and bruises. Now, I need to ask, do you have medical insurance?”
“Yes, I have full coverage.”
“Someone will come and take the details. I’m going to admit you overnight just as a precaution. Without any other symptoms, you should be able to go home in the morning.”
Isobel politely declined. She judged that availability of funds to pay for her stay ranked as the main criterion whether to keep her overnight. “I don’t want to be admitted, thank you. I’ve fallen off worse things than a bicycle before, and I have always survived. I’d rather go home and rest and leave the bed for someone whose need is greater than mine.”
The doctor shrugged. “As you wish. You’ll need to sign a disclaimer that you have declined further medical assistance. And because of that I cannot therefore offer you the use of an ambulance to return home.”
Isobel pushed herself off the stretcher and stood upright. She had a moment of queasiness, and despite the pain to her elbow and hip, felt confident she could manage.
“I’ll be okay.”
The nurse, a jovial black woman from South Africa, hummed a tune as she applied a final dressing to her elbow when a flushed Lance appeared. Isobel gave him an apologetic wave. “Come on in,” said the nurse, “the lady here is going to be just fine, nothin’ but a few bruises, so you best be gentle with her tonight.”
“He’s not my husband.”
“I never said he was, did I?” said the woman, with a wink.
“How are you feeling?” asked Lance, taking a seat next to her like a veteran medic.
“I’ve had better days, but nothing’s permanently wounded except my pride. They didn’t think it serious enough to keep me in overnight.”
The nurse gave Isobel a disapproving look but held her tongue.
“I came as fast as I could. They wouldn’t let me travel with you in the ambulance because I’m not related and the damned police insisted on holding me at the scene to take a witness statement.”
She sat there watching him, wondering if she had misjudged him. He had sprung into action and she could imagine him as the type that, whatever about anything else, would be good to have around in a crisis.
“Anyone else hurt or anything?”
“No, your instincts saved you. That, plus the brakes on the car. You fell off the bike trying to avoid getting hurt; the car never hit you, thank God. But I’m afraid your bike’s not in good shape.”
“So I heard. What about the driver?”
“Nothing to worry about there. Just a nice old lady who had a dog in the passenger seat. I’m not sure which of the two got the greater shock, but they pulled through. Luckily they were both wearing seat belts.” He laughed at his own witticism and she joined him in it, feeling her spirits lift despite her pain.
An orderly came in with a clipboard and asked Isobel to sign some papers.
“I didn’t know who to call,” said Lance, “so I rang Pauline and asked her to contact Juanita, and she’s going to be waiting when you get home. But if you want me to arrange for a nurse to be there or…”
“Juanita’s more than capable,” Isobel cut in, immediately feeling guilty and softening her tone. “It’s kind of you, Lance, to do all this. I’m sure I don’t deserve it, not after how I spoke to you today. I’m sorry for that.”
“It’s the least I could do. I feel responsible for what happened. I shouldn’t have distracted you the way I did.”
She touched his shoulder. “How about you take me home and we’ll call it even?”
Juanita ran to the car to help Isobel out, but she held out her hand to stop her. “Please don’t fuss, Juanita. I fell off my bike and bumped my head, that’s all. But it seems everything has to be made into a great melodrama here in America.”
“Yes, that is true, it makes much work to create such drama. And tomorrow the lawyers will be calling to tell you to sue someone.”
“The great American way, I suppose,” said Isobel with a sigh, “if you’re injured, someone must be to blame. But the only thing I need right now is a good old cup of English tea.”
Isobel followed Juanita into the house unaided with Lance behind. She smiled to see the sofa lovingly arrayed with pillows and cushions and shot Juanita a grateful glance as she flopped down.
“I’ll be on my way now, if everything’s okay,” said Lance, “You should get some rest.”
“Please, stay for a coffee. I could do with some cheering up, and it’s the least I can offer for getting you mixed up in this mess. I’ve taken up your whole afternoon.”
“As it happens, I had no pressing engagements,” said Lance with a wry smile.
“Touché,” said Isobel.
“A coffee for Mr. Denning, please, Juanita.”
“It’s a nice place you’ve found here,” said Lance, looking around.
“Could do with a lick of paint on the outside, but you did well to find it. Are you pleased with it?"
“It’s a bit expensive, but for me it’s just perfect. It’s easy to look after, close to everything, and by the sea. I’ll miss it when I move out.”
“You’re leaving?” He looked surprised, and she thought she detected a hint of disappointment in his otherwise neutral tone. Perhaps, she thought, whatever damage she had done by her temper had been repaired by her fall.
“I could only get a winter rental. And I had one stroke of luck; someone cancelled at the last minute. But a family from Arizona takes it for four months every summer, so I’ll need to find something else if I want to stay on.”
“You have anything lined up? It gets pretty booked out here in the high season.”
“I’m still looking, and asking.”
He nodded. “Who are you renting through?”
“Coronado Realty.”
He rubbed his chin. “Coronado Realty. The folks there are pretty good, and they’re about the biggest boys on the block. They should be able to come up with something.”
“Not so far, not long term. There’s a studio apartment that might be available in one of the high-rise blocks on the Strand.”
She wondered where his questions were leading. He had told her he worked in property. Was he making small talk, or was it, as she suspected, the precursor to some concrete suggestion, perhaps even an offer of help? Her hopes were quickly dashed. “Well, I’m sure something will turn up,” he said idly.
Juanita arrived with a tray of drinks and savouries, and Lance pulled over a coffee table so Isobel did not need to move. “I bring you my own enchiladas, with the cheese you like, señora, in case you had hunger. In the hospital they only give poison.”
Isobel laughed. “No poison tastes as good as your enchiladas.”
Juanita beamed at the compliment.
“It’s good of you to come like this at such short notice.”
“You have been like a mother to me, señora, it is the least I could do, I so happy you not have more hurt.”
Isobel once again smiled her thanks as the sound of a baby crying came from the bedroom.
“I am sorry, señora, but when I get the message from Pauline I have no one to look after Clarita. And also I think perhaps you might like to see her.”
“Oh, Juanita, that’s so kind of you.” Isobel went to stand but Juanita gestured for her to stay seated.
“I bring her to you, señora, please, do not disturb yourself.”
Juanita brought the baby in wrapped in a shawl and took a seat beside Isobel.
“Oh, she’s so beautiful,” said Isobel, pushing the blanket from the baby’s face, and stroking her cheek with the back of her finger. “And she has your eyes.”
“But her papa’s temper when she does not get attention. Would you like to hold her, señora?”
She passed the baby across, and Isobel cradled her in her arm, rocking her back and forward, making cooing sounds. “She’s just perfect, you must be so proud.”
“Thank you, señora. I pray every day that she be healthy and have a happy life.”
A tear trickled down Isobel’s cheek and she turned her head away to wipe it with a flick of her finger.
“Is everything okay, señora?”
“I’m sorry, my hip is hurting and I think the trauma of the day is catching up with me.”
Lance stood up. “There are a few things I need to do. And one of them is sorting out your broken bike, which cannot be left where it is overnight. If there’s anything I can help with, you know I’m only a call away.”
Isobel passed Clarita to her mother and stood up. “I’ll see you out.”
She followed Lance out onto the porch.
“Perhaps we can be friends after all,” he said, his eyes warm and inviting.
“Perhaps.” She extended her hand and he took it. “Thank you, Lance, for everything.”
Isobel opened a bottle of wine and sat down to eat the meal that Juanita had prepared before she left. She drank more than she ate and as she drained the bottle, feelings of homesickness took hold. Drifting to her computer, she checked her emails then idly browsed the web. She took a second bottle from the fridge, but feared the alcohol was not helping her mood, and instead, in hope rather than anticipation, put in a video call to Ryan. He answered almost immediately, flickering into life as a tanned apparition, sitting on his bed in a T-shirt and boxers, his legs tucked under himself yoga-style.
“Hey, babe,” he said, his voice ever so slightly out of sync with his lips, “I’ve been trying to reach you. Why haven’t you been picking up?”
“I’m sorry, I must have missed you.”
“I’ve been trying all afternoon, and I also sent a couple of texts. You avoiding me or something?”
Realisation dawned on Isobel. “I may have lost my phone. I fell off my bike today.”
“Jesus, you okay?”
“I’ll live. A cut on my elbow and a bruise on my knee. But now I’m feeling awful.”
“I wish I could be there to cuddle up to you right now. You look gorgeous, and the camera never lies.” He leant his face close into the camera, pouted his lips and made a loud kissing sound. “I’m missing you no end, babe.”
“I’m missing you too,” she replied wistfully, returning a kiss at the camera. “Anyway, what’s up?”
“You know, this and that. Checking mails and stuff.”
“Nothing special, then…”
“I was planning on having an early night, and then calling you when I was settled in bed.”
“I know you’re busy these days, but I was wondering if you could come down tonight.”
“Tonight? You’ve left it kind of late to ask. I’d love to shoot down but I’ve got an early start tomorrow.”
“I can set the clock. I might even wake you with a kiss…a kiss in the way you’d like it.” She ran her tongue around her lips.
“You got my attention, babe, but just save that one for me.”
She dragged her fingers down her cheeks. “Please, Ryan, I really need you tonight.”
Even from the clunky video link, Isobel could detect some impatience. “I get it, I get it. It’s just something important is coming together here right now.”
“More important than seeing me?”
“Hey, babe, don’t play those games with me. You’re the one who wanted your space, didn’t want me under your feet twenty-four seven, with my socks in the laundry basket. If you wanted a puppet on a string, you should’ve said…”
Isobel curled her fingers into the pillow in frustration. “I thought we were past all that now. We’re only a couple of hours away from each other, I don’t mind how late you get here. I just want you to hold me, that’s all.”
“Two hours? Not with LA traffic, babe. But if you’re feeling horny, we can get it on over the webcam.”
“Please, Ryan, if you want to talk to me like I’m your slut, can you save it till we’re in the bedroom—or the taxi.”
“Hey, take a chill pill. There’s no one listening, for Christ’s sake, it’s just you and me.”
Isobel tore her fingers against her scalp. “Please, Ryan, come down, for me, I’m feeling really fragile tonight.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to come down. I’m aching to see you. But I have something that’s on a knife-edge here, something that could change things for me in Hollywood. And I’m just on the point of pulling it off. I don’t want to tempt fate by talking about it now, but if it happens, I’m going to want to celebrate.”
She had asked him to drive down at a moments notice as if she was the centre of his world, whereas she had given him only spasmodic encouragement that he was the centre of hers. Now she had to accept the reality there was another world in LA, Ryan’s own world, in which he was centre. Nevertheless she listened with barely suppressed frustration.
Ryan continued with his reasoning. “Right now it needs one hundred percent of my focus. And the way things are looking, I’ll know one way or another early next week, and then I’m all yours. So how about you fix yourself a drink, get yourself settled, and we can talk again when you’re under the sheets. And for as long as you want. But can we just put the trip on ice for a few days, until I get this thing over the line? Then we can party up here or down there or go off some place for a few days, just you and me, someplace special.”
“But Maria comes in next week, it’s been arranged for months. I can’t just abandon her the minute she arrives.”
“So Maria is more important than seeing me?”
“Now who’s playing games?"
“Listen, babe, Maria’s not a kid. She can look after herself for a couple of nights if she has to; you don’t have to hold her hand for two weeks. She’ll understand. And if she’s lonely, I can always have one of my buddies look after her for a night. We can video call every day, and we can see each other Tuesday or Wednesday. That’s not so bad, is it?"
“What about the weekend and your trip to Vegas? Can’t you change that?”
“It’s a trip I do every year. It’s all booked and paid for. You’ve known about it just as long as I’ve known about Maria coming over.”
Isobel had pleaded more than enough. “Whatever you say. I’ve got things to do to keep myself occupied anyway.” She waited for him to ask what those things were.
“Great, babe, great.”
“…And a friend wants me to go to a museum with them this weekend, so maybe I’ll do that.”
“The museum gig sounds ace. Now how about you get some rest?”
She couldn’t believe it. He had no interest in who the friend might be, and it wasn’t like she had that many to choose from. How could he not be the least bit curious whether the man he puffed his chest out against was her escort? Did he just want her off the phone? He put his palm to the camera and she did the same.
Clicking the icon to close the call, she dropped her head into her hands.
Isobel received a retinue of unexpected visitors in the forty-eight hours after her fall, and it touched her that her new friends were thoughtful enough to do so. Pauline popped in saying she was “just passing by,” and the woman who had collided with the bike came by with chocolates. As Isobel served coffee to her yoga instructor, Laura, and six fellow members of her class, Lance arrived.
“Good morning, Isobel, and how is the patient this morning?”
“Much better, thank you, doctor. And how are you?”
“The usual, no pressing engagements,” he quipped.
“I’m just having coffee with some girlfriends. You’re welcome to join us.”
“Do they bite?”
They might if they see you, thought Isobel.
“No. But they’re all half naked in leotards and sports bras.”
He sucked in through his teeth. “Tempting, but possibly a little too early in the day for such heady excitement. Maybe next time. But I did manage to recover your phone, or at least I’m thinking it’s your phone. Some honest soul picked it up at the scene of the crash and left it with Silvia at Café Nuevo.” He handed her the cell phone. “It seems to be working fine—in fact, it rang on my way here.” Isobel fought the urge to look at the phone, sensing he would be expecting her to check his story. “Unfortunately, both your bike and your helmet are beyond repair. Do you need them for an insurance claim or anything?”
“Well, how thoroughly practical of you. But insurance didn’t even occur to me, so no. ”
“That’s a relief.” He smiled. “As they were consigned to a dumpster before I could get to them.”
Isobel gave a glance over her shoulder at her friends. “It’s kind of you to go to all this trouble…”
“No trouble, it’s what friends are for. Speaking of which, if you’re free anytime over the weekend, perhaps you will allow me to show you around the sights of San Diego? Some of the out of the way places known to locals that you won’t find in the guidebook. Nothing too strenuous, given your current delicate condition.”
“I expect you’d consider me rude and ungrateful if I were to decline,” she replied, allowing him just the smallest turn of the lips to show her humour.
“It’s a woman’s prerogative to say no, but yes, I’m afraid I would rather. Unless of course you have a prior engagement that will take up the whole of the next three days. In which case I’ll leave it to you to suggest an alternative. And I promise to deliver you back here safe and well, and at an hour that your mom would approve of.”
“Then it seems you have me cornered.”
“If I can take that as a resounding yes, then I’d like to suggest we make an early start, tomorrow at nine. And we can make our first stop breakfast. How does that sound, Mrs. Roberts?”
“Like something I’d enjoy, I’m a sucker for American breakfasts.” She held out her hand. “Till tomorrow then, Mr. Denning.”
As he turned away Isobel glanced at her missed calls. The most recent one was from Ryan. Lance, she guessed, would have seen that.
She heard a scampering of feet inside as she turned to re-enter the lounge. Her girlfriends were gathered in a conspiratorial huddle.
“So have we just seen your secret lover from LA?” asked the outspoken Laura.
“Were you spying on me?”
“Just being nosy. So now we know why you’ve been keeping him hidden.”
Isobel laughed. “I have not been hiding him and he’s certainly not my lover. Just a friend returning a phone I lost when I fell off the bike.”
“A likely story. And he’s not married?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“So he’s fair game, then,” said Laura, rubbing her palms together.
“Yes,” said Isobel, “I suppose he is.”