A Gift to Remember Page 5

  All from Joshua.

  She dialled his number and waited anxiously for her workmate to pick up, picturing him in a complete panic.

  ‘Where in the living hell of all things holy are you?’ Joshua shrieked. ‘I’ve called you twenty times now, and no answer! I know it’s hard to hear your phone ringing out on the street, but good God, Darcy, what is—’

  ‘Sixteen,’ Darcy said numbly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You called me sixteen times. Just for the record.’

  ‘Whatever. It’s well past eleven – where on earth are you?’ he repeated.

  ‘Listen, Joshua, just calm down for a second, OK? I’m sorry, I know I’m late but there’s been an accident and—’

  ‘Oh my God, I knew this would happen eventually, I just knew.’

  Darcy wished he would just let her tell the story without interruption.

  ‘No, actually, I hit someone, Joshua. On my bike.’ Tears sprang to her eyes as the shock and adrenaline gradually wore off and she was now able to properly assess the enormity of the situation. ‘I’m fine, but I knocked the guy out cold and I don’t know if he’s going to be OK.’

  Mercifully Joshua listened in stunned silence while she recounted the tale and the fact that right now, aside from being frantic about his condition, she was also trying to figure out how to reunite the injured man with his dog.

  ‘It’s my fault he got hit and his dog got left behind,’ she said shakily. ‘I need to at least find a way of letting him know the dog is safe.’ And she very badly needed to know if he – Aidan Harris – was out of danger too.

  The best thing for her to do, of course, was to take Bailey to whatever hospital his injured owner had gone to, and take things from there. Otherwise, not knowing whether Aidan Harris was dead or alive would eat her up.

  ‘You’re at West Fifty-Ninth Street?’ Joshua mused, when she outlined her intentions, ‘So I’m guessing they would have taken him to the ER at Roosevelt,’ he said, reverting to paramedic mode. ‘Either that or St Luke’s, but Roosevelt’s closer.’

  ‘OK.’ He was right; Roosevelt was only a few blocks away.

  ‘Well, if you’re going there, get yourself seen to as well,’ her workmate advised, his voice soothing now. ‘Sounds like Dog Guy wasn’t the only one to take a knock. But don’t rush off right away, take a breather first. Grab a coffee or something. And try not to panic.’

  Darcy nodded. In truth, that sounded like heaven. She definitely needed to sit down somewhere for a little while at least.

  ‘And it goes without saying that you mustn’t worry about coming in to work today. I can cover things and Ashley’s due in after lunch anyway. Consider it a Joshua buck.’

  ‘Thanks, Joshua.’ She sighed gratefully, knowing there was no way she’d be able to face work just then. ‘I’ll make it up to you, I swear.’

  ‘Don’t be silly – just make sure you’re OK. But if you even think about bringing some strange dog down here, all bucks will be revoked.’

  She smiled. ‘I know – you’re not a dog person, I get it. I suppose I’ll just have to take him round the Emergency Room with me.’

  ‘The good workers in the ER aren’t exactly dog people either, sweetie – they’ve got the humans to think about. Tell you what though, instead of trying to strike it lucky with the hospitals, let me make a call. I know a guy who still works at Roosevelt.’

  Darcy brightened a little. ‘Do you think your friend would be able to tell me if the man I hit has come round and is OK?’

  ‘I can’t promise anything. It’s been a while since we’ve talked, and he could well have moved on since, but I can certainly try.’

  ‘I’d really appreciate anything you can do, Joshua, thanks.’

  ‘Like I said, go and sit down somewhere for the moment – preferably out of this cold. I’ll call my friend and see what I can wheedle out of him, if anything.’

  Grateful for her workmate’s help, Darcy said goodbye to Joshua, while he promised he would call her back as soon as he knew anything.

  Feeling a powerful headache coming on, she tugged on Bailey’s leash and wandered back towards her bike. As she did so, she again noticed the deli bag and wondered if she should just leave it there beside the lamp post in case the lady came back for it.

  But now, lifting it up, Darcy realised it didn’t contain deli or bakery products, but something much, much heavier. And looking inside, she saw a package, a gift box that had been beautifully wrapped in thick green paper, and tied with a wide red grosgrain ribbon.

  The bag itself, although a little wrinkled, also had an expensive look to it.

  But where had it come from? Darcy wondered. Alongside her, Bailey panted and wagged his tail with such enthusiasm it was causing her to wonder if his owner might have been carrying it before he got hit. And thinking about it now, she recalled – a snapshot of the man and his dog right before they connected flashing into her mind – there was indeed something on the end of his arm – the same one in which he held the leash.

  Darcy looked from the gift box back to Bailey, quickly understanding that she had more than one thing to return to Aidan Harris.

  Chapter 5

  What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. Ralph Waldo Emerson

  Still shaken in the aftermath of the accident, Darcy adjusted her bike and manoeuvred Bailey’s lead in such a way that she would be able to walk alongside him and the bike, while at the same time keeping a hold on her belongings and Aidan Harris’s gift.

  Taking Joshua’s advice, and with her bones aching and clothes still a little damp from the fall, she decided to take temporary refuge in a nearby café – one that hopefully allowed dogs inside. Most of the places directly on West Fifty-Ninth were pretty swanky, so she made her way a block over to one of the more casual chains on Seventh, where she guessed she should have no problems finding a table.

  Locking her bike outside, she took Bailey’s leash in her still-trembling hand and entered hesitantly, breathing a sigh of relief when a smiling cashier called out in greeting.

  ‘Nice dog,’ the woman commented, as Darcy ordered a strong cup of English breakfast tea and a cranberry muffin for the sugar hit. The immortal words of C.S. Lewis: ‘You can’t get a cup of tea big enough or a book long enough to suit me’ automatically popped into her brain. Never a truer saying, as far as Darcy was concerned, remembering how curling up with a book and a mug of tea had always been a comforting ritual for her mother, and a tradition that Darcy had tried to hold onto from their time together. She only wished she had one of her beloved books to help soothe her right now, but in her haste to leave the apartment this morning, she’d forgotten to put the copy of Pride and Prejudice back into her bag.

  The café was full of Christmas shoppers as Darcy led Bailey towards a vacant table down the back.

  He walked patiently alongside her, as if he was used to doing this kind of thing, and she wondered if perhaps he was some kind of assistance dog. She didn’t think that was common to this particular breed though, and she also got the impression that the Husky was quite young, not much older than a pup. Well, if his owner did depend on him in this manner, she’d try her utmost to have them back together very soon.

  She fretted, going over the accident a dozen, a hundred dozen times in her head.

  The light turning green, the sound of her brakes screeching, wheels spinning, the brisk air, the smell of fresh bread from a nearby bakery, the supposedly clear intersection and then, bam, splat, crunch, Darcy’s messenger bag digging into her ribs and the man lying there, flat on his back. Out cold.

  The image made her flinch but all she could see was him, Aidan Harris: his firm chest and broad shoulders under his maroon crewneck, eyes closed; his dark, silken hair lying on the ground. Adding an extra sachet of sugar to her tea to help counter the shock, Darcy took a sip and eventually sat back, hoping that the weight of the morning’s drama would gradually subside, though
it was impossible to relax when she was still frantic to find out which hospital Aidan Harris had been taken to, and more importantly, whether he would survive.

  Bailey sat on the floor beside her, again as if he was well used to waiting around in places like this, though he was showing an extraordinarily strong interest in her muffin. Feeling guilty, she broke off a piece and fed it to him. ‘I’m sure you’re used to much classier places than this, though,’ Darcy murmured to him, given his owner’s expensive clothes and shoes, as well as man and dog’s proximity to the surrounding neighbourhood.

  Given that the guy was out walking his dog, and wasn’t wearing a suit or carrying a briefcase, it seemed unlikely that he was on his way to work. Much more likely that he lived close by this part of town, perhaps the Upper West or East Side? But there was little point pondering such things; Darcy realised she had no clue about anything to do with Aidan Harris, other than that he liked dogs and had good taste in clothes (and, it seemed, gifts).

  She reached for the bag again and carefully removed the heavy gift box. The box had such an expensive, luxurious feel to it; so tactile and firm to the touch with faint wired embossing. The bow was equally exquisite, a rich red, almost maroon in colour. Darcy wondered for whom the gift was intended. Had Aidan Harris been out on an important errand when she’d crashed into him, diverting his plans, and quite possibly his life?

  She swallowed hard, tears in her eyes. It just didn’t bear thinking about. What if she’d caused serious, maybe even permanent damage? If so, she didn’t think she’d be able to live with herself and was trying her utmost to banish the thought when just then she heard her phone ring. She stared at the handset for a moment, almost afraid to find out what news her workmate might have for her.

  ‘Joshua . . . hi,’ she greeted, her voice watery.

  ‘Well, it turns out that I was right, which as you know is a regular occurrence . . .’ Darcy waited impatiently for him to finish his typical long drawn-out introductory spiel, before eventually getting to the point. ‘So it seems your victim,’ Darcy winced afresh at his choice of words, ‘has indeed been taken to Roosevelt ER.’

  ‘Your friend actually confirmed that the man I hit is there?’

  ‘Well, of course not. It would be more than his job’s worth to give out confidential information like that, but after some cajoling, I did coax it out of him that a pedestrian injured on Sixth and Fifty-Ninth Street had been brought into the ER this morning. So unless Bergdorf are doing the kind of special that would cause pile-ups round there . . .’

  ‘That’s wonderful to know, Joshua, thank you,’ Darcy said. ‘I don’t suppose your friend happened to let slip anything about the guy’s condition? If he was still unconscious or . . .?’ She inhaled deeply, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.

  ‘Sadly, my legendary powers of persuasion aren’t that good,’ he intoned. ‘Patient confidentiality and all that.’

  ‘I see.’ Joshua went on to give her a detailed and sobering run-down on the ins and outs of patient privacy rules before assuring Darcy again that she shouldn’t worry about things at the store and that he was very capably holding the fort.

  ‘Thank you, I owe you one,’ she said, hanging up, but the phone call had given her little comfort other than confirmation of her ‘victim’s’ current location. Darcy shuddered and tried to look on the bright side. The hospital wasn’t too far away, at least – a plus, seeing as she would have to walk there, though in truth she wasn’t sure she could face getting back on the bike just yet in any case. The warmth of the café had dried off the worst of the dampness on her trouser legs, and the sugar hit had helped stave off the worst of the shock, so she guessed she should be good to go.

  Bailey’s lead in hand, and wheeling her bike at her side, Darcy slowly made her way along the snow-filled streets to Roosevelt ER.

  She thought again about the privacy issues Joshua had just outlined. Given that she wasn’t a family member, it was a long shot that she would find out anything about Aidan Harris’s condition, she thought, locking up her bike outside the hospital. But surely if she explained the situation – that she too had been involved in the accident, they would at least let her know if he was or wasn’t seriously injured, wouldn’t they? Darcy certainly hoped so, but first things first.

  She rubbed Bailey behind the ears. ‘Time to let your master know where you are, buddy.’

  Taking a deep breath, she approached the double doors of the Emergency Room, only to be immediately blocked by a security guard. ‘Excuse me, miss. You can’t take that dog inside.’

  Damn.

  ‘I understand, but he’s not my dog – he belongs to a patient here.’ Darcy launched into a full account of the accident and how she needed to reunite Bailey with his owner.

  ‘I’m sorry but I can’t allow it – no matter the circumstances. Dogs are not allowed in the hospital.’

  Darcy exhaled deeply. She guessed she should have expected this, but she had been so focused on bringing Bailey back to Aidan Harris that she hadn’t really thought much more beyond that. ‘But what am I supposed to do?’

  ‘You can tie him up over there beside the bikes, if you like. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him for you.’

  Darcy had actually been referring to more longterm issues, but this option would have to suffice for the moment. At the very least, she would be able to get the hospital to pass on the information to Mr Harris that his dog was safe. She just hoped he was in a fit enough state to receive the message, she thought, biting her lip to stem a fresh flow of tears.

  ‘OK, thank you.’ She duly walked Bailey towards the nearby bike-stand and looped his lead through the metal. ‘Sorry, boy,’ she said, ruffling him behind the ears, but the Husky seemed to understand and simply sat down alongside Darcy’s bike, as if he’d been doing the same for years. ‘I’m just going to see if I can get you back to your owner, OK?’

  The dog just stared back and settled in for a wait. He was so well behaved, she noted, recalling how easy it had been to negotiate the streets with him and her bike. Clearly well-trained, he wasn’t in the least bit skittish and Darcy instinctively knew this one was no brainless mutt.

  Going through the double sliding doors, she headed straight for ER Reception, all the while noticing little seasonal touches inside, like the small tree blinking in the corner, and a white tree skirt covered with gaily wrapped packages that Darcy guessed were just empty boxes. Coloured lights blinked on and off, and cheesy Christmas carols played from a speaker somewhere. Currently someone with a lisp was singing about his ‘two front teeth’.

  Emergency Rooms were possibly the last places anyone wanted to be in at this time of year, but at least the staff were making an effort.

  A sudden image of the airless grey hospital waiting room in which she and Katherine had spent tortuous hours waiting for news of her parents after the crash wormed its way into Darcy’s brain and she tried her best to shrug off the unwelcome memory and concentrate on the task in hand.

  Approaching Reception, Darcy swallowed the lump in her throat. Now that she was here, she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know the condition of the man she’d upended earlier. What if his injuries were critical?

  She cleared her throat and tried to project a casual air to her voice. ‘Excuse me, hi,’ she began, smiling at the receptionist who looked at her coolly. ‘I’m here about a patient, Aidan Harris. I believe he was brought in this morning, about an hour ago?’ She wished to give the impression that she was family or a close friend, in the hope that the woman might inadvertently reveal some information about his condition.

  The woman typed a couple of commands into the PC in front of her. ‘Harris, you say? And you are?’

  But try as she might, when it came down to it, Darcy couldn’t pretend. In fact, she was a terrible liar and shared that much with Aunt Katherine in her ability to speak the truth, albeit in a decidedly softer manner.

  ‘I’m the reason he’s here,’ she blurted ou
t. And then, much to her embarrassment she burst into tears, all her fears and worries since the accident suddenly overwhelming her. ‘I collided with him this morning on my bike. The light was green, honestly, and he just came out of nowhere, I swear, and . . .’ She sniffed tearfully. ‘I’m sorry, but he was unconscious when the ambulance took him away, and I’ve been going out of my mind with worry over what might have happened to him. Is he all right?’ she pleaded with the receptionist. ‘I know you’re not supposed to give out personal information, I get that, but can you at least tell me if he’s OK? For all I know, I might have killed him. And I have his dog . . . he was out walking him at the time, and I want Mr Harris to know that Bailey is fine, and that I’m taking good care of him.’

  The receptionist had kind eyes that looked at her sympathetically. She seemed taken aback by Darcy’s distress and heartfelt desperation. ‘You’re right honey, we’re not allowed to give out patient information,’ she said, but she picked up the phone. ‘Can you wait just a moment? Let me see if there’s something I can do.’

  Darcy exhaled in relief at this, though the phone call seemed to take forever as she waited to hear some news – any kind of news – about Aidan Harris.

  Eventually the receptionist hung up and turned to her. ‘Like I said, I’m not allowed to give out patient information.’ She took a deep breath. ‘So let’s put it this way: nobody brought in this morning to this ER with reported head injuries has suffered any serious trauma,’ she added meaningfully, her gaze locked on Darcy’s, ‘and all are now stable,’ she finished.

  Darcy wanted to cry with relief. The woman was, in her own way, letting Darcy know that he was not in danger.

  ‘Oh, thank God!’

  ‘However, stable doesn’t necessarily mean one hundred per cent OK either,’ she cautioned. ‘Often victims of TBI – traumatic brain injury – become disorientated.’ The receptionist eyed her. ‘Like I said, I can’t give out specific patient medical information – even to a family member – without patient consent. Unfortunately, not all of our patients are in a state of mind to provide that consent.’