This entry is part 1 of 32 in the These Small Hours: Book 1
Trying hard not to hear, but they talk so loud
Their piercing sounds fill my ears, try to fill me with doubt
Yet I know that their goal is to keep me from falling, hey, oh
But nothing’s greater than the rush that comes with your embrace
And in this world of loneliness, I see your face
Yet everyone around me thinks that I’m going crazy
Maybe, maybe
– Bleeding Love, Leona Lewis
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Webber House: Living Room
Elizabeth Webber set the basket of folded laundry on the armchair, then scooped up her one-year-old son when he darted past her, maniacally giggling. She held him beneath one arm the way one might carry a football and snagged the shoulder of the four-year-old who had been chasing him.
“Whoa, can you guys stop for a second? Mommy has to talk to you,” Elizabeth said. She dumped Jake on the sofa, sat down and settled Cameron beside her. “Just a second, then you can go back to driving me crazy.”
“One second not long,” Cameron told her. “See? I count. One. Done.” He started to slide back off the sofa, but Elizabeth snatched the collar of his green t-shirt.
“Remind me to thank your preschool teacher for teaching you what seconds and minutes are,” she said dryly. “Fine. You can give me at least five minutes. Do you know how many seconds that is?”
Cameron furrowed his brow, then scrunched up his face. “Nope. I ask tomorrow.”
“Great. Okay.” Elizabeth pulled Jake into her lap. “On Saturday—that’s not tomorrow—but the day after it—Mommy is going to drop you both off with Daddy, and you’re going to stay with him for ten days. Can you count to ten?” she asked Cameron.
He nodded, then used his fingers to count it off. “Daddy’s house? Where you going?”
“Mommy’s going to fly far across the ocean to Italy. Remember when we looked on the map to see where Greece was? It’s near there.”
“You fly? You go in a plane? I wanna go on a plane.” Cameron scowled. “Jake can stay with Daddy. He’s a baby—”
“Not a baby!” Jake wiggled, trying to kick out with his chubby little leg because nothing made him more furious than the ‘B’ word. “You baby, I big boy! Mommy say so!”
“Neither of you are old enough to fly ten hours on a plane. Mommy’s going to take a vacation, okay? And you’re going to have lots of fun with Daddy.”
Cameron made a face. “Wanna go to Tally. What’s Tally?”
“Italy,” Elizabeth repeated, stressing the beginning syllable. “It’s somewhere Mommy’s wanted to go for a long time. With lots of paintings and beautiful buildings. Really old cities. Not so much fun for kids. You would be very bored.”
“We go Disney instead,” Cameron told her. “Tell Daddy.”
“Maybe next summer. Jake will be old enough for some of the rides,” Elizabeth said, neatly sidestepping the topic of vacations and Daddy. “I’m going to miss you both so much, but you won’t even notice I’m gone.”
“I always notice,” Cameron boasted. “Five minutes done?”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something else, but the phone on the table behind the sofa rang, and she sighed. “Five minutes are done. Go ahead. Chase your brother, but don’t knock anything down.” She released Jake and the toddler took off for the dining room, Cameron on his heels.
She leaned back to reach for the receiver. “Hello?”
“Elizabeth?”
“Hey.” Her heart began to beat just a bit faster when she recognized Jason’s voice, and a sickening feeling began to spread. “What’s up?”
“Do you have some time later? Something came up with the trip, and—”
He was canceling it. Of course he was. Why did Elizabeth think that after all these years, after all these stops and starts, that this time she would finally be able to go to Italy with the man she loved? She sighed. “It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me in person. I’m sure you have a thousand things to do if you have to cancel—”
“No—” Jason cut in. “No, I’m not canceling. We’re going. I promise. I’m sorry, I should have realized—” There was another voice in the background, and the sound of papers rustling. “Diane just came by with some paperwork we need to deal with, and I just—” His voice lowered, and she could almost picture him in the office at the coffee house, standing behind the desk, Diane tapping her heels in front of him. He had probably turned away so that the nosy redhead couldn’t hear him, though Elizabeth was sure Diane was leaning in as closely as possible. “I haven’t seen you in a few days,” he said, almost in a rush of words. “But if you can’t get away, that’s fine—”
“No,” she interrupted quickly, smiling. He’d missed her, and wanted to see her even though they were going to be spending ten days together— “No, I can for a little—I’ll call Gram. I have to talk to her about the trip anyway, and maybe she’d watch them for a little bit. The safe house?”
“Yeah. About six? Would that work?”
“I’ll see you then. Is Diane standing right there?” she asked, that smile curving just a bit more deeply.
“Yes,” he said, wary now. “Why?”
“I love you, that’s all.”
“I…me, too,” he echoed, and she laughed. “I’ll see you later.”
“See you later.”
General Hospital: Chief of Staff
The chief of staff’s office was located on the first floor of General Hospital, just beyond the lobby and gift shop. For the better part of thirty years, it had only been occupied by two men: Steve Hardy and Alan Quartermaine. They had sat behind the heavy mahogany desk that dominated the office — and while Patrick Drake had never known Steve Hardy, he knew the man had died in this office, working for the hospital until his last breath. His shadow — and the portraits of him in this office and in the hospital board room — loomed large.
Even after two months of being chief of staff, Patrick still felt like a usurper sitting at a desk that didn’t belong to him. Dr. Russell Ford had taken over after Alan’s death, but he’d died earlier that summer, leaving the spot vacant. Patrick had leapt at the chance to take control, having chafed under Ford’s micromanagement, and had regretted it ever since. He’d inherited a terrible financial mess, and a staffing crisis loomed in the future.
And his future wife only exacerbated his worries. Eight months pregnant, Robin Scorpio had only reluctantly agreed to reduce her hours at the hospital. Today she was supposed to be at home resting.
Instead, Patrick had clasped his hands behind his back, fighting the urge just to take her by the elbow and steer her right back to the elevator. She’d slap him if he even tried, he knew that much, and it was his own anxiety creating this feeling, not any actual medical concern. She wasn’t even due for six more weeks, so he had no business hovering like she’d give birth any minute, or so she reminded him on a consistent, if not daily, basis.
“Don’t think I don’t know that tone,” Robin warned, sliding him an irritated look from beneath the lashes of her caramel-colored eyes. “Go sit down, I can get myself into this chair.”
“But I could—”
“Sit,” she ordered, and he obediently rounded the edge of the wide mahogany desk to do as she’d told him, forced to watch her maneuver herself into the chair on the other side of the desk. “Now, I told you that I was perfectly capable of getting from one place to another. I don’t even have to stop driving until two weeks from my due date.”
“I know, I know. I just—worrying about you feels like the only thing that I can actually be good at right now.” He indicated the stack of files littering the desk. “Everything else is a disaster.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.” But her eyes had softened. “You’re a great doctor—”
“Excellent doctor,” he muttered, and she grinned. “But that doesn’t make me good at this job. Chiefs of staff — you know, I always wanted it, but I thought Alan would be here longer. I never planned…” He shook his head. “I never planned for any of this.”
“Better you than Dr. Ford.” Robin’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she winced. “Which sounds awful since he’s dead. I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but you shouldn’t lie about them either. He didn’t care about the people. You do. I know you like to pretend you’re some hotshot who doesn’t need anyone, but I’d think in the last three years, you’d have learned that’s not true.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I’m not really sure that helps. You have to be good at schmoozing and asking for money. The first part? No problem. The second—” He shook his head, looked away.
“You’ve been under so much pressure, Patrick. I wish you’d give yourself a break,” Robin said. She rubbed her belly. “You’ve been worried about me, the hospital—” she hesitated. “And what you found out a few weeks ago about your brother—”
“He’s not my brother,” Patrick muttered, and Robin sighed.
“Okay. Okay, what you found out about your father, though I remind you the only villain in that story is Noah. Matt didn’t do anything wrong except exist.” When he didn’t look at her, Robin just sighed. “But I’m not going to pressure you on that either.”
“Not today anyway.” And he wanted to think about all of that even less than the job.
“No, not today.” She rubbed her belly again. “I remember when Dr. Hardy passed away. He was such a good man. A kind one. A lot of the light and life went out of this place, and I know Alan tried, but Steve was just this giant presence, and it felt like no one could measure up. But Alan didn’t try to be Steve. He figured out his own path. He started by putting patients and staff first, and everything else second.”
“He didn’t have this hospital board,” Patrick grumbled. “I know we had lawsuits after Jolene Crowell, and I’m sure it wasn’t easy to settle them. But they reject every piece of funding I ask for. I’ve asked for new nurses twice, but they won’t budge.”
“Still? But I thought the new fiscal year—”
“That’s why I resubmitted. But it’s a no. Make do, they said. How do you make do when nurses are already floating in departments where they have almost no training? When they’re working doubles just to provide a good nurse to patient ratio?” He dragged a hand over his face. “If we don’t get some relief soon, we won’t just be facing a mutiny from the nurses — a patient is going to pay the price.”
Shadybrooke: Lulu’s Room
Johnny Zacchara leaned back, grinning as his girlfriend checked her image in the mirror over the dresser. It was good to see her smiling and taking some sort of interest in her appearance. Since she’d broken down at his trial a few weeks earlier and checked into Shadybrooke, Johnny had done little but worry.
His charges had been dismissed after Lulu had broken down on the stand and admitted to accidentally killing Logan Hayes. Alexis had taken on Lulu’s case and was trying to negotiate a deal for treatment. Scott was fighting it every step of the way, but Johnny knew Lulu’s brothers would never let her see a day in jail, even if Nikolas had to pull strings to make this go away.
Johnny’s only concern was helping Lulu return to her vibrant and sparkling self, and today was a good sign, he thought. Just talking about her boss’s upcoming wedding had boosted Lulu’s mood, though she was a little wistful about missing all the wedding preparations.
“I wish I were in the offices,” Lulu said, flopping back on the bed and reaching for one of the editions of Crimson he’d brought. “I bet Kate is trying on a dozen dresses—it would be fun to be there for it.”
“You’ll get to see the final choice on Saturday,” Johnny reminded her, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “And we’ll have a great time at the reception.”
“Yeah,” Lulu said, smiling at him, then the corners of her mouth dipped, and her hazel eyes became unfocused, almost glassy. Johnny’s pulse picked up as he left the chair where he’d been sitting and perched next to her. He reached for her hand, squeezing it. Lulu blinked, then looked at him. “What?”
He swallowed. “Nothing,” he said. What good would it do for Lulu to know she was still drifting in and out? She was terrified that she’d end up like her mother, frozen in the same catatonic fugue state for the last six years. Laura Spencer sat just down the hall in another room as beautifully decorated as this one, but she might as well have been in a cell for all that mattered.
“It’ll be great for you to be around your friends again,” Johnny said. “Maxie said Kate is letting her have the pick of the closet. And you know she’ll take care of you.”
“Yeah, Maxie never could stand to be around someone not dressed fashionably. Remember when I started working at Crimson?” Lulu said, her eyes sparkling. “She tried to force her way into my room at home and clean out my closet.” She laughed, and his chest eased. There she was. His bright, beautiful, sparkling Lulu.
“I like that sound.”
Johnny twisted on the bed to find Lulu’s brother, Lucky, and his girlfriend, Sam McCall, in the doorway. Lucky made a face when he saw who was already in the room—there was no love lost there.
“I was just remembering Maxie’s horror at my closet,” Lulu said. “Hey. I didn’t know you guys were coming by today.”
“Nikolas told me he was letting you sign out for a few hours on Saturday,” Lucky said, the humor sliding from his eyes. His jaw clenched. “I wish you were going anywhere but that wedding.”
“I think,” Sam said, squeezing past Lucky and through the doorway, “it’s nice. Maxie and Spinelli will be there, so you’ll be with friends. And Johnny will be there to look out,” she said. She touched Lucky’s arm. “Everything will be fine.”
“It’s a mob wedding,” Lucky muttered. He folded his arms. “If there aren’t bullets, there will be heartbreak.”
“You’re just jealous because you’re not invited to this one,” Lulu said, trying to tease, but the spark had faded again. She stared down at the pages of Crimson, tracing her fingers over a perfume ad. “I remember arranging the meeting for this ad,” she murmured. “It was the first really big project Kate gave me. She only hired me because Sonny asked her to. I didn’t even think I’d like it. But I do. When I get out of here—because I will get out of here,” she added, her expression fierce, “I have a career waiting. I want to go, Lucky. I want to see Kate be happy.”
“I won’t let her out of my sight,” Johnny pledged.
“You think that reassures me,” Lucky said dryly, “but it doesn’t.” Sam pinched his arm, and he sighed. “But fine. It might do you some good, Lu. I just worry.”
Because his mother already lived down the hall, it was hard for Johnny to take it personally. What kind of hell was it to wonder if your mother’s condition was genetic and that your little sister might disappear, too?
As someone who came from a criminally insane psychopath, Johnny really couldn’t blame Lucky Spencer for being overprotective. He’d spent most of his life protecting himself from his own father while worrying he’d be just like Anthony one day.
But he wasn’t his father, and Lulu wasn’t his mother. He wouldn’t let history repeat itself.
General Hospital: ICU
Nadine Crowell tapped another sequence of keys, then growled when the dispensary machine lit up the wrong medication — again. “You know, when humans did this job, I bet there was less attitude,” she muttered. She fought the urge to kick the machine, tapped the sequence a third time and this time, the correct drawer was indicated. She tugged it out, located the right box, and signed out.
She returned to the nurse’s station where her supervisor was making faces at a screen — likely the shift schedule for the next rotation. Nurses worked four days straight with twelve-hour shifts, and then were off for three days. Nadine had already sacrificed one of those days three times in the last few months, and she was not about to do it again.
“Are they ever going to fix our dispensary unit?” she complained. “Every time I asked for my meds, it kept spitting out acetaminophen. Is there some deal with the supplier I don’t know about? We getting a kickback for using so much of it?”
“At least you double check,” Epiphany grunted. “Two patients on the last shift were in so much pain they nearly stroked out — turns out Hailey didn’t double check, and they got aspirin when they needed fentanyl.”
Nadine winced. “Oh, man. You didn’t fire her, did you? We already don’t—” When Epiphany just glared at her, Nadine sighed. “Of course not. Not unless she kills someone. So that’s a no on the fix, right?”
“Reported it to maintenance in July and then again last month,” Epiphany told her. “Risk Management says keep double checking and we’ll try to get new machines next fiscal quarter.”
“That’s what they always say. Fine. Whatever.” Nadine headed for her patient’s room to dispense the medication.
When she’d finished and was in the hallway marking the chart, she saw a familiar figure at the nurse’s station, talking to Epiphany. She wound her stethoscope around her neck and headed over. “Hey, stranger. It’s been a few days.”
Nikolas Cassadine stepped back from the desk, his eyes friendly but his mouth unsmiling. “Hey. You didn’t answer your phone or the door at your place, so I hoped I’d find you here.
She’d told him her schedule, Nadine thought, but didn’t say it. Despite everything they’d been through together over the last few months, she was getting the impression that if she wasn’t standing right in front of him, he never thought about her much at all. What a deflating thought. “Well, you found me. I can take a few minutes if you need something.”
“Yeah, there’s something I wanted to run by you.”
Shadybrooke: Hallway
Lucky closed the door behind him as he followed Sam into the hallway. “I’m not happy,” he declared. Sam sighed, wound her arm through his as they started to walk.
“I know.”
“I think she should stay here until she’s not losing time anymore. How many times did she just drift while we were having a normal conversation?” Lucky demanded.
“Twice that I saw.”
“Johnny did, too. I saw it in his eyes. But he just waited, and she came back. What happens if something goes wrong at the wedding?” Lucky said. He stopped in front of a room. He stared at the door so hard that his vision nearly blurred. “What if the next time something terrible happens, she drifts so far we can’t drag her back?”
“Is that what happened with your mother?” Sam asked softly.
“I wasn’t there for most of it,” Lucky admitted. “Dad took her on the run after her stepfather died. He wanted to protect her from the cops — but Dad said she was already confused. Didn’t know what year it was—thought they were getting married for the first time. She kept slipping in and out the whole time, and then Scott—” His mouth twisted. “Scott kept badgering her, forcing her to relive the moment she bashed Rick Webber’s head in—and Mom just disappeared.” He swallowed hard. “We got her back for a little while two years ago, but it wasn’t enough.”
He knocked on the door but opened it without waiting for anyone to answer. No one would. Inside, the room was decorated like a bedroom with a brass bed and a flowered comforter set between two oak nightstands, a matching dresser on the other side of the room.
Photos of the Spencer family dotted the dresser—of Luke and Laura before kids came along, of Lucky as a child, of Lulu. And the boys — Jake and Cameron — grandchildren Laura had never met. She’d only seen Cameron briefly during the weeks she’d been awake, and he had no memory of her.
They had filled this room like his mother was going to come back to them at any minute, as if she were a normal patient.
But Laura Webber Spencer wasn’t a normal patient. She sat in a rocking chair looking out the window, dressed in a pair of trousers and a gray sweater. Nikolas paid for someone to take care of her. To exercise her muscles, to wash and dress her each morning as if this was the day Laura Spencer would rise from that chair and go back to her life.
And every day, they had to put her to bed because she was still locked away inside her mind.
Lucky left Sam in the doorway and went over to crouch in front of his mother, to take her hand in his. “Hey, Mom,” he said softly. “It’s me. Just came by to make sure they’re taking good care of you.”
Her eyes, the beautiful blue eyes his father always waxed poetically about, were glassy, unfocused—
Empty.
Lucky swallowed hard. “I’m doing good,” he told his mother. “The boys — they’re growing fast. We can’t keep Cameron in shoes. I remember when Lu was that age.”
He spoke to his mother for a little longer, catching her up on Nikolas and Spencer, on Cameron’s start in preschool, and Lulu becoming a fashionista. When he was done, he kissed Laura’s cheek and left.
In the hallway, he leaned against the wall. “I can’t stand the idea of Lu ending up like that,” he said roughly. “I’d rather slit my wrists—”
“She won’t. She’s got the best care—”
“We’ve kept my mother here because we wanted her close, but Shadybrooke isn’t the answer.” Lucky straightened. “If Nikolas can’t make this deal happen, then I’ll break her out of here if I have to. I’m not letting Lu slip away. I didn’t do enough for my mother. I never did enough for her. I’m not making the same mistakes again.”
“You won’t. And whatever happens, I’ll be right there,” Sam promised. She leaned up to kiss him. “We’re in this together, remember?”
“I remember.”
Coffee House: Office
If he left right now, Jason would just about make it to meet Elizabeth on time, and he very much did not want to be late again. She was arranging for a babysitter because he’d insisted on seeing her, and the last thing Jason wanted was to waste another minute of her time. Not after the last six months. He wanted to show her that things were different this time — he was different, and he was done breaking promises.
Jason pulled open the door, then grimaced when he saw Carly Jacks on the other side, her fist raised and poised to knock. At his expression, hers folded into a scowl. “Oh, that’s a real nice hello. What did I ever do to you?”
There weren’t enough hours in the day to answer that question, so he remained quiet. He had one mission — figure out what Carly wanted, give it to her, and then make her leave. “Nothing. I was just on my way out—”
“To see Sonny?” Carly sneered and strolled past him. He sighed, then closed the door. “Tell me, Jason. Whose bright idea was it to take our ten-year-old son to the warehouse six months ago?”
“Carly, it’s not going to do you any good to think like this—” Jason began, but she just rolled her eyes.
“Sonny’s. And whose idea was it to leave the guards at home even though he’d only been out of the damn mob for five minutes?” Carly demanded.
Jason leaned against the door. “It’s not that simple—”
“Sonny’s. Who shoved his girlfriend to the ground and left our—” Her voice faltered on this. “He’s getting married.”
“I know,” Jason said, a bit guarded. “You knew that, too.”
“Everything he’s done — he’s the reason Michael is in that place, that we had to take him to Manhattan at all, and he’s—” Her eyes were watery now, and Jason wondered if the tears were real or if she’d dredged them up, sensing that he wasn’t much of a sympathetic ear right now. “He’s the one that kissed me, you know. He started it—”
“No, I don’t know, and I don’t want to know,” he said. “Do not tell me—” he raised a finger when she opened her mouth. “Don’t. I’m sorry, Carly. I know it feels unfair—”
“He’s the reason for all of this, but he’s the one getting married in two days, and I’m the one who lost her husband and her son. Tell me how any of this is fair?” She whirled away from him, went to the desk to snatch up a photo Jason kept of Michael and Morgan. “Tell me why my life is basically over, and Sonny gets to go on like nothing happened.”
“Your life is not over. Jax could forgive you,” Jason said. “You have Morgan. And the hotel.”
“And you—you don’t have your son either—you don’t even have a photo of your own kid, Jason. How sick is that?” Carly wanted to know, folding her arms. “And that’s because of him.”
Jason exhaled slowly, went over to the desk, opened a drawer, slid a few things to the side and pulled out a frame. “I have one I can look at any time, Carly. But I don’t need a photo to remember that I love my son. And it has nothing to do with Sonny.”
Carly took the frame from him, studied it with narrowed eyes. “But this is all three of them. Elizabeth and both the kids. Can’t you have one of just Jake? I mean—”
“You know, it’s time to go—” Jason took the frame and returned it to the drawer, lingering for just a moment on the photo itself. Of Elizabeth on the sofa last Christmas, holding Jake in her arms, smiling, and Cameron leaning into her side, his baby teeth flashing. “I have to be somewhere,” he said. “So if you’re just here to complain about—”
“What’s this?” Carly snatched at something on the desk. “Power of attorney? You’re doing a new POA? I guess that makes sense. Who was it before? Sam or Sonny, right? You’re—” She looked at him. “Why are you giving it to Elizabeth. And—” She picked up his passport. “Are you going on a trip or something?”
“Carly, this is none of your business.” He snatched both from her, though she made a grab to get it back. “I keep telling you I have somewhere to go—”
“You’re going with her! Where? For how long? How can you be leaving right now?” Carly demanded. “I bet this was her idea. You know, just when I thought she’d finally grown up, she’s dragging you away when you know something is happening at this wedding, and then Sonny will be distracted, and you’ll be gone—”
Jason took her arm and gently pushed her towards the door. Surprised, Carly let herself be steered backwards. “Wait, wait—”
“I told you.” He opened the door with one hand and pushed her through it, following and closing the door behind him. “I have things to do. Places to go. Go home.”
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