Lost and Found - 31

31

Saturday 4^th January 2009

Amelia could tell it wasn’t good news; the doctor’s face was bleak, grave even.  She’d been asked to leave her father’s bedside half an hour earlier, just a few hours after he’d been taken off the ventilator. But instead of waking up, he’d remained flaccid and unresponsive in the bed. He sat next to her and met her eyes.

                “He’s had a cardiovascular accident, a stroke. The neurologists are assessing him now. We’re not sure at the moment how severe it is, the CT scan shows a large presentation, but that does not always manifest physically. And they do resolve, improve, but again we can’t say how much.”

Amelia shook her head, things were going from bad to worse, just as she took a breath saw the hint of improvement, another sledge hammer hit her in the stomach. A few weeks ago she’d hated her father, but she couldn’t maintain that anymore as she looked at the frail, desperate man lying in the hospital bed. No, her sense of family, her sense of obligation had increased tenfold as she’d watched for the slightest breath of life from the body of her parent. Suddenly it became too important that he respond, start to recover. She couldn’t live with the guilt of her distance the last ten years, and her role in his collapse a few days ago.

Her phone had lost its charge some time the previous day, and she hadn’t left the hospital in three days. She knew she needed a shower, a change of clothes, but she had to make do with a wash and tooth clean in the toilet. So many times she wanted to call Sol, to explain, to fill him in on what was happening. But she felt too stressed, too emotional to contemplate anything.

That evening her father had opened his eyes, he was confused, disorientated, but the second he saw her face, the half smile made all the waiting worthwhile.

As she sat at his bedside she pulled out her phone and managed to start it for a few seconds. She typed a quick text to Sol, ‘No power on phone, so can’t call. Dad had stroke, really not well. Will call when I can, A.’ As she pressed send the phone died, so she had no idea if the message was sent from her phone or not.

The nurses forced her leave the intensive care unit at ten o’clock, she knew she looked terrible, and now that her father was a little more stable, she finally felt she could leave the building. Standing in the street, her overnight bag at her feet, she wondered what the hell she did now. She had no idea of where to stay. There must be a hotel nearby, but without her phone, or no real knowledge of the area anymore she was lost. The car park was deserted; it was late, and dark. Amelia didn’t even know a taxi number.

She was just about to head back into the hotel, when a familiar black car pulled up alongside her.

                “Do I have great timing?” Sol asked as the darkened window lowered to reveal him relaxed in the driving seat.

Sighing with relief, Amelia looked at him, “what are you doing here?”

He shrugged, “you’re not answering your phone, not readily speaking to me...you know what they say about Mohammed and the mountain! So here I am! You getting in, or what?”

Nodding she moved around to the passenger side and slid in beside him. The heating was on and the car was toasty warm, a relief as it was another cold almost snowy evening. He accelerated out of the hospital as soon as she was buckled in, and had hit the main road before turning to her.

                “How you doing? Because you look like shit!”

She laughed in a sad way, “How long ago did you leave me here? It all seems to have melded into one horrendous day!”

                “Would you believe three days? I’ve organised three new contracts and overseen the plans for four launches in that time! How’s your Dad? I got your message.”

Amelia found the tears she’d been fighting for days welling as she described his pallor, his unresponsiveness, the flaccid half of his body, the worry and anxiety at the thought he wouldn’t get any better. Sol was the perfect audience, listening intently and asking appropriate questions.

The car stopped and Amelia realised that he’d pulled into a hotel car park. Seeing her quizzical expression he smiled, “I booked a room. I can stay tonight, but I’m going to LA tomorrow, I tried to cancel...”

She shook her head, “you mustn’t do that. Thanks for this!”

He hated the formality in her voice, the distance from the warm sensual woman who’d’ opened him up three days earlier. What a difference a few days made.

Flashing a smile at the receptionist, he directed her to the room he’d organised earlier. Immediately he ran a bath as she peeled out of the three day old clothes. Wrapped in a robe as he emerged from the bathroom.

                “I’ve run a bath, I’ll organise some food. What do you fancy? Chinese? Indian? Or I can room service the hotel restaurant?”

She shrugged, “anything would be good.”

With that she disappeared into the steam filled room and closed the door, a physical barrier to join the emotional one that seemed to have been erected since he last saw her. E punched the wall in frustration, not knowing how to handle her, the second she’d stepped out of the hospital his heart and raced, his mouth turned dry. He loved her so much and realised that he couldn’t spend another day without her.  Reaching into his pocket he fingered the velvet box, his mother’s engagement ring, the most valuable possession he owned, and something he’d rushed here to give to her. He knew that this wasn’t the time, she was stressed, her father was desperately ill. He would wait. But the way she was acting, he had a fear that he’d never get the chance to give it to her. He had to avoid that, fight that at all costs. There was no way Maxwell Parkin was ruining this for them again. Once was enough.

Sol fought the urge to burst into the bathroom, to bathe her, love her, she needed space and he had to accept that.  So he made himself useful, putting her bag into the hotel laundry...there was nothing that didn’t need cleaning, then he ordered a variety of food from the nearest Indian takeaway, he knew it was her favourite. By the time she emerged, wrapped up in towels, he was spreading the containers out on the small table in the corner of the room. He’d tuned the TV into a music channel, and was humming along to a song as he looked up to see her. With her hair twisted up in a towel, and another towel wrapped around her body, she looked beautiful...and vulnerable; he fought the sudden urge that besieged his groin.

                “I opted for Indian food, and I’ve ordered a bottle of water, and some OJ, come and have a seat, you look bushed.”

Nodding she slid into the seat he offered, and Amelia was amazed to find she had an appetite that she hadn’t expected.  Wolfing down the breads, rice and some of all the curry dishes, she felt a million times better. Smiling for what felt like the first time in weeks, she slumped back in her chair. Full as an egg. Sol was smiling at her, relieved to see her actually eat something.

                “Right! Bed!” He directed her by the shoulders to the bed, and as she dropped the damp towels to slide under the duvet, he ignored the pulls at his body, the desire he felt. Sitting in the arm chair, he watched her settle, try to sleep, but could tell that despite her fatigue, she was restless.

                “Will you hold me Sol?”

Happy to do anything to help her, even torture himself, he nodded, dimming the lights and turning off the music, he slipped out of his jeans and sweater, then climbed in beside her. Wrapping herself around him, she sighed, and was instantly asleep. Leaving Sol in his torturous state of arousal.

Amelia couldn’t open her eyes, the lids seemed stuck together, but she was comfortable, secure. Two arms held her close, and she could feel Sol’s chest pressed against her back, his thighs cradled her buttocks, and a rather impressive erection, nuzzled between her buttocks told her just exactly how difficult this night had been for him.

Turning in his arms, she ran her hands up his arms, across his shoulders, and then down his spine. Her eyes followed her own hands over her smooth skin, and by the time she looked back at him, his eyes were on hers, leaden with sleep, but warm with passion.

                “Meal?” he whispered, but she slid out a long finger to silence him, then pushed him onto his back, climbing to straddle him. Not giving him time to think, she lowered herself onto him, then stooped to bury her face in his neck.

Within seconds, Sol had rolled on top of her, pulling her beneath him, and he pinned her down, made her meet his gaze as she writhed in exquisite pleasure. He had no intention of her forgetting how much this meant to him too.

When she finally gasped, her body taken over by an almost violent climax, there were tears in her eyes.  A feeling that was reciprocated by the wrong footed Sol. This wasn’t as it seemed and the insecurity scared him.

                “I’ve booked this room indefinitely on my credit card. Will you stay here at least until I come back from LA?”

She nodded as she lay under the covers watching him dress. “Ok, when are you back?”

He paused a moment, “I’ve got things on until Thursday, but I’m trying to get Craig my PA to condense everything.” He rifled through his wallet for a business card, “if you can’t get hold of me, call him, he knows exactly where I am 24/7, ok?”

She nodded, slipping the card onto the bedside table, “thanks.”

Coming across the room, he sat on the bed and pulled her into his arms, “it’ll get better, and it’ll be ok Meals, I swear.”

She nodded and kissed him earnestly, “I do love you Sol.”

Smiling he hugged her, “I know, and I know seeing your father ill is difficult for you. But he will get better, and we will be happy, together.”

When he’d left, everything seemed eerily quiet. But Amelia took the opportunity to relax, sleep, and even take another bath. In the taxi back to the hospital later that morning she felt like a new person, suddenly ready to take things on.

Maxwell Parkin sat out of bed in the hospital issue chair next to his bed. His now uneven face tried to break into a smile as he saw her approach. It was only as she perched on his bed beside him that she saw who was hovering in the corner of the room, talking to a nurse. The bastard that was Alex. This was his first trip in four days, and as usual he was here once the heartache and hard work was over. No her father was awake and the first thing he sees is a doting nephew.

                “What’s he doing here?” she snarled under her breath, and her father followed her glance.

                “Alex!” he slurred, but it was the first word she heard him say.

Feeling a well of tears that he seemed to be making improvements, she held his hand, “where’s he been though?”

                “Holiday!” her father answered. Amelia felt sick; this was going to be a long day.

Alex came across to them a smarmy look on his face, “Yes Max, they will let you have a TV in here, I’ll bring one in a little later, then you can at least keep abreast of the news!”

Her father’s crooked smile would have warmed her heart if it had been for any other reason, but not Alex.

                “Thanks Alex, but if my father needs a TV I will buy it. You can go back to whatever has kept you busy for the last few days.”

Alex’s responding laugh was more nasty than she could ever imagine, “what and leave you free to screw Sol Tanner,” he turned to Max and added, “Under your nose Max!”

Max’s face contorted in pain and anger and Amelia’s heart fell. This was a no win situation, she had to choose, her father or Sol. Slumping back into a seat beside her father, she tried to look at the situation rationally. Sol would survive, live and love again...but would her father? This was his only chance, and she had to choose him, didn’t she?