The Proposal Read online

  “I know that, sweetheart. From the first day I met you, I knew what kind of girl you are, and there isn’t a malicious bone in your body.” He paused and shook his head. “But if I don’t say what’s in my heart, I’m going to explode.”

  Gnawing one of her already frayed fingernails, Emma held her breath, bracing herself for what Patrick had to say.

  “I’m extremely worried about Aidan. It’s been three weeks, and he’s miserable, Emma. He doesn’t sleep, and he barely eats.”

  The spiteful, vindictive side of her relished in the thoughts of Aidan’s suffering. She gave Patrick a skeptical look. “I seriously doubt that. He’s probably just vying for your sympathy and trying to turn you against me.”

  “No, I’ve seen it with my own eyes. He’s been staying with me because he can’t stand being alone.”

  Emma widened her eyes as her heart clenched in agony for Aidan. Although a very large part of her delighted in the thought of him hurting as badly as she was, another part of her pitied him. As much as she wanted to despise him, she couldn’t. Every moment of the past three weeks, she had tried to bury her feelings and embrace the fact Aidan would never be completely emotionally available. To let him back into her life would be to walk barefoot over the shards of her broken heart. He would cut her again—it was inevitable.

  But from the depth of her soul, she still loved him. There was a part of her that feared she always would—just like a part of her still loved Travis. She hated herself for feeling that way.

  “Can you honestly say that nothing he has done in the past few weeks has softened your heart to him?” Patrick asked.

  A tortured sigh escaped her lips. When Becky had said Aidan would try to win her back, she hadn’t been kidding. Not even being forewarned could have prepared for the initial barrage of telephone calls, texts, and emails. He had even tried coming to her office, but she had asked the security guard to remove him. It had been quite a scene with Aidan scuffling with the guard to try to get to her. He had then been warned by her manager never to come on her floor again.

  Then he switched tactics. Her house soon doubled for a florist’s with all the flowers he bought. Every bouquet and every dozen roses he sent had a separate card filled with his ramblings of remorse, how much he missed her, and how much he cared for her and the baby. Since there was still no profession of love, she gave him the silent treatment.

  “Em?” Patrick questioned, jarring her out of her thoughts.

  She twisted the hemline of her blouse in her fingers. “Don’t you know how hard it’s been with my feelings, coupled with my pregnancy hormones, to ignore him?”

  “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed with his tenacity. Not even with Amy did he do something as heartfelt as that poetry book.”

  Emma pinched her eyes shut. That damn book! It had almost shattered her resolve. When she had opened the wrapped package and found an antique edition of love poetry by the Romantics, she had wept uncontrollably for an hour. The sight of John Keats, Percy Shelley, and Lord Byron brought thoughts not only of his nephews, but the glaring fact he remembered she loved their poetry. And while it was a book filled with sentiments of love, he still hadn’t said the words himself. For Emma, that meant everything.

  “I’m truly sorry he’s going through so much. But I’m hurting, too,” she finally said.

  “I know you are, honey. But if I asked you just to talk to him for a few minutes, would you humor an old man?”

  “Oh Patrick, don’t you see. I’m scared.”

  “That he’ll…cheat again?”

  She bobbed her head. “With Travis, I never had to worry about him being unfaithful. He was totally devoted from the time we first started dating. I haven’t dated a lot or been out in the world, so I don’t know how to be with someone like Aidan and keep my sanity.”

  Patrick rubbed his chin. Emma could tell there was something he wasn’t saying—something that held a piece of Aidan’s puzzle. “I don’t like to beg, but would you just consider sitting down with him and trying to hear him out? I know it would mean the world to him, and I think it would mean a lot to you, too.”

  A whoosh of air deflated her chest. “I guess I could try.”

  “That’s my girl,” he said, his face lighting up. “Good. Now that I’ve got that out of the way, I could use some dessert. Want something?”

  As if on cue, Emma’s stomach rumbled, and she grinned. “Even though I shouldn’t, would you bring me back some more of that homemade pound cake?”

  Patrick smiled. “Good choice. I was going after a piece myself.”

  She grabbed his sleeve. “Just make sure it isn’t Mrs. Forrester’s. I think she accidentally put salt instead of sugar this time.”

  He chuckled. “Oh lord. I do believe she has a screw or two loose.”

  “You shouldn’t say that. You know she’s sweet on you,” Emma teased.

  “And don’t think I’m not going to keep running away from her. She’d probably kill me with food poisoning or something.”

  Emma laughed. “You don’t have to run too fast. She’s just one of your many admirers.”

  “Whatever,” he grumbled. As he rose out of his chair, Patrick winced and rubbed his chest.

  “Are you all right?” Emma asked.

  “I’m fine,” he murmured. But when he took another step forward around the table, he gasped and then collapsed onto the ground.

  “Patrick!” Emma cried, leaping out of her chair. She raced over to him and knelt down, grabbing his hand in hers.

  “My heart,” he moaned.

  “Someone call 911!” she screamed, trying to fight the rising panic that drummed in her chest.

  “I will!” the bingo announcer replied, bringing his phone to his ear.

  “Here give him this,” a lady said, thrusting an aspirin in front of Emma’s face. She took it from the lady and brought it to Patrick’s lips.

  “Swallow this.”

  He lifted his head and let her put the pill in his mouth.

  “You don’t have any other medicine with you to take? Like nitroglycerin?”

  Patrick grimaced. “Left it in my other pants,” he wheezed. At what must’ve been her horrified expression, he murmured, “Sorry.”

  “No, don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

  “Pray, angel.” A shaky hand came up to tenderly touch her cheek.

  Tears stung her eyes. “Of course, I will. I am. And you do too! Say a Hail Mary or whatever it is you Catholics do!”

  Patrick chuckled and then winced. “Don’t make me laugh.”

  “I’m sorry.” She squeezed his hand tight and tried to give him a reassuring smile.

  “If this doesn’t go well—”

  Emma’s body tensed. “No! Don’t you dare talk like that!”

  He closed his eyes briefly before opening them. “Listen to me. If I don’t make it, promise me you’ll give Aidan another chance.”

  “Oh Patrick,” she moaned.

  “Promise,” he urged.

  The last thing in the world she wanted to do was lie to a potentially dying man. Somehow she found the courage to nod her head. “Okay, I promise.”

  “Good girl.”

  When firemen came barreling through the door, Emma said a thanks to God that the fire station sat just across the street from the VFW. Since most of them had EMT training, she knew they could help Patrick until the ambulance arrived.

  “Excuse us, ma’am,” a young guy said.

  Emma reluctantly dropped Patrick’s hand. The two firemen inched past her and squatted beside Patrick. Entwining her fingers, she brought them to her lips that were murmuring prayers. She watched as one man put an oxygen mask over Patrick’s face while the other took his pulse.

  Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t even hear the ambulance siren. The next thing she knew EMT’s had arrived and were putting Patrick on a stretcher. “Em!” came his panicked cry through his mask.

  “I’m right here,” she called, pushi
ng one of the firemen out of the way. Groping along the gurney, she snatched up his hand. “I’m here. You’re going to be just fine.”

  The stretcher rumbled and shook along the uneven pavement as they wheeled him to the open doors of the ambulance. Emma had to fight to keep up with them, and she found herself winded as they started to load Patrick inside. His face crumpled when she was forced to let his hand go.

  “I’m still here!” she cried, fighting the tears that scorched and burned her throat and eyes.

  Emma felt a hand on her shoulder. A young fireman with kind eyes smiled at her. “Do you want to ride with him?”

  “Please, can I?”

  “Sure you can. Just come around to the front with me.”

  Emma stepped closer to the doors of the ambulance. “Patrick, I’m going to be right up front. I’m not leaving you. Okay?”

  He bobbed his head. “I love you, and I’m right up front,” she cried again, as the fireman pulled her away.

  They walked around the side of the ambulance. He opened the passenger side door for her. “Up you go.”

  She braced herself on the doorframe and tried hoisting herself up. With her adrenaline depleted, she was too weak. Hands came around her waist and pushed her forward. She gasped as she flopped onto the seat. Once she collected herself, she turned around.

  The young fireman’s cheeks flushed crimson. “Sorry about that.”

  “No, it’s okay. Thanks for the help.”

  He grinned before slamming the door. Emma turned in her seat to watch the EMT’s working on Patrick. “See, I didn’t leave you,” she said.

  The wail of the ambulance’s siren starting up caused Emma to shudder. Like an electrical storm in the summer, long buried memories flashed in her mind. Although she gripped the sides of her seat, she was miles away from the chaos surrounding her.

  With her hand wrapped firmly in her mother’s, she skipped into the fire station. At the sight of her father, she squealed and ran forward. “Daddy! Daddy!”

  “Hey baby,” he said, hoisting her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around him as he squeezed her tight. “So you’re finally getting to see my new station, huh?”

  Emma nodded. She hadn’t quite understood why they had left the mountains to come to the city. In fact, she had cried big tears from the back window of the car when she watched Granddaddy and Grammy waving goodbye. But Daddy had tried to explain he could make more money if he worked as a fireman in Atlanta, rather than in Ellijay. They could have nicer things. He’d even gotten her a puppy to try to make things easier.

  “Let me wear your hat! Please Daddy!”

  He chuckled. “Of course you can.” When he sat the fireman’s visor on her head, Emma’s neck felt wobbly and weighted down. He walked her over to the gleaming red fire engine. “You want to hear the siren, angel?”

  She squirmed in his arms. “Oh yes!”

  He climbed onto the rig and sat her down on the seat. Her hands automatically went to the steering wheel, and she turned it back and forth, pretending to drive. He blared the horn. “Again, Daddy!” He grinned and honked it until the rest of the guys in the firehouse were ready to throttle him.

  Like wispy shadows of fog swirling along rooftops and skylines, Emma’s mind unveiled another memory just a short year later. She was at school and sitting on the reading rug. With rapt attention, she listened to her teacher reading from a book about bears having a Halloween party where popcorn overflowed their house. The classroom door creaked opened, and Emma stared in surprise at Granddaddy standing in the doorway. She raced over to meet him, happily taking his hand. Out in the hallway, he pulled her into his arms and carried her outside. Grammy stood at the car hugging Nana, Daddy’s mother. Emma peppered him with questions. “What’s happened, Granddaddy? Why are you all here in Atlanta? Where’s Mommy and Daddy?”

  For the first time she could ever remember, Granddaddy had tears in his dark eyes. “Emmie Lou, there was a bad fire, and your Daddy was trying to save these children. He got them out safely, but he…” His voice choked off with emotion. “Baby, your Daddy’s gone to live with the angels.”

  That one statement sent her kicking and screaming out of his embrace. “No, no, no! Daddy wouldn’t leave me! He’s taking me to the circus this weekend.” Her fists beat into Granddaddy’s belly. “You tell the angels to bring Daddy back!” she cried.

  The sound of the ambulance doors rattling open snapped Emma into another memory. Once again she clutched her mother’s hand as they weaved in between the tombstones in the cemetery. She had never seen so many people in all her life. People kept calling her daddy a hero. They sank down onto one of the velvet chairs under a green tent. Clinging to her mother’s side, she jumped with every rifle blast of the Twenty-One gun salute. Then a man knelt before her mother with a folded flag. He glanced over to Emma and gave her a sad smile. She would never forget his soulful brown eyes.

  “Ma’am?”

  Emma jolted back into the present. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Patrick’s stretcher had already been taken from the ambulance. The EMT, who had driven them to the hospital, stood with the passenger side door opened, beckoning her with his hand. “Here let me help you.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured. After she hopped down, he led her through the automatic doors. Pointing down the hallway, he said, “They took him to room two.”

  She nodded. “Thank you for everything.”

  Emma staggered down the white tiled floor. An antiseptic smell assaulted her senses. Men and women in blue and green scrubs hustled between rooms and patients. She gave the nurses station a fleeting glance before cutting across the hall to where Patrick was. When Emma started for the door, a nurse blocked her. “No, ma’am. You can’t go in there. You’ll have to go to the waiting room.”

  “How is he?”

  “We don’t know anything yet. They’re running tests.” The nurse gripped Emma’s shoulder. “If you’ll just go have a seat, someone will—”

  Emma shook her head furiously from side to side. “Please, let me stay here. I won’t get in the way, I promise. He didn’t want me to leave him!”

  The nurse took in Emma’s swollen stomach, and her expression softened. She glanced over her shoulder before sighing. “Okay. Is there anyone else you should call?”

  Emma had been so consumed by the ghosts of the past along with Patrick’s condition, she hadn’t even thought of calling Aidan or his sisters. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh God, I can’t believe I didn’t call his children!”

  “It’s okay, honey. I’m sure you’ve had a lot to process. Why don’t you step right over there?” the nurse motioned to a table with a shiny black phone on top of it.

  Emma nodded and walked away from Patrick’s door. She eased down into the uncomfortable plastic chair. With Becky and Liz in Disney World and Julia living out of state, Aidan and Angie were the closest in distance of getting to the hospital. She tried Angie first, hoping she could get her to call Aidan. But she didn’t pick up, so Emma was forced to leave her a voicemail asking her to call her as soon as she could.

  With shaky fingers, she dialed Aidan’s cell number. He answered on the third ring. “This is Aidan Fitzgerald.”

  The sound of the deep timbre of his voice vibrating her ear made her chest tighten. For a few moments, she couldn’t process thoughts, and she certainly couldn’t speak. “Hello?” he prompted.

  “Um, it’s me.”

  Aidan sucked in a sharp breath on the other line. “Emma…” The way he said her name caused her to shiver. It hummed with a mixture of both pleasure and pain. “God, it’s so good to hear your voice.” She remained motionless, unspeaking and unblinking. He was paralyzing her with just his voice. “Please say something. Please talk to me, Em,” he begged.

  Snap out of it a voice deep within her screamed. She shook her head. “I’m not calling because of all that. It’s your dad. We’re at the ER at Wellstar.”

  His tone changed over in an instant. �
�Wait, what happened to Pop?”

  “I don’t know yet. He had chest pains and collapsed at the VFW. They’re running tests. He’s conscious and breathing on his own.”

  “Fuck. I’m an hour away below Atlanta.” He growled in frustration. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Okay,” she replied. She hung the receiver up before he could say anything else.

  She turned her attention back to Patrick’s door. A slow eternity seemed to tick by as Emma waited for news. She paced back and forth outside. Every time another doctor or nurse entered, her heart shuddered to a stop. Wringing her hands, prayers rolled through her mind continuously.

  After trying unsuccessfully to get two nurses to give her an update, she leapt at the next person to come out of the door. Twisting her fingers into his white coat, she held on for dear life as the tears pooled in her eyes. “Please, please you have to tell me what’s happening!” she demanded.

  The doctor brought his hands to hers, and instead of shoving her away, he took them tenderly in his own. She glanced up into a pair of soulful brown eyes that radiated with empathy. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked.

  “Emma.”

  A warm smile cut across his handsome face—one that in any other situation might have caused her heart to beat a little faster or even a stirring below her waist. His jet black hair fell in waves across his forehead, and his pearly white teeth contrasted against his dark skin. “Emma, I’m Dr. Nadeen. I need for you to take a deep breath and calm down, okay?”

  She shook her head wildly. “But I—he—”

  “Mr. Fitzgerald is going to be just fine. We have him stabilized while we’re running some tests. But it doesn’t appear that it is anything life threatening. He’s in good hands. I promise.”

  The news caused her knees to buckle, and she would have dropped to the floor if Dr. Nadeen hadn’t wrapped his arms around her. “Whoa, now.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Come with me.” With one arm firmly around her waist, he led her to the room across the hall from Patrick’s.