The queen had arranged for their jet to take us back to the states and it was waiting at the airport. Chadwick had gone to Rousseau overnight in the queen’s helicopter to retrieve more of my clothing for the trip. Stanley and Margie had sent food, which amused the queen, but I appreciated it. That’s what you did when someone was having a hard time. You fed them. It was a tradition that crossed all cultures.
I called Patricia on the way to the airport and was relieved that Dad had finally woken up. I spoke to him briefly; he was still too tired for much. Jess and Bert were with him as well and that helped ease some of the frustration in my heart. The doctors weren’t sharing much information with them because they were technically not family, but at least he wasn’t alone. That seemed like such an odd thought to me. Patricia, Jess, and Bert were the closest thing I had to a real family. I did speak with one of the physicians on the way to the airport, but there were no good answers.
The cancer cells had been spreading and nothing they tried had helped. Dad had refused more chemo and had decided not to tell anyone the extent of the trouble. It was very like him to not want anyone else to worry about him, but it made me angry. I felt like he had robbed me of time with him. I confronted Dr. Bielefeld about my father’s health, but his hands had been tied. He had never passed on false information, but under doctor-patient confidentiality, he had only been able to share what Dad told him he could. He apologized for not being able to do more and I believed that he was sincerely sorry.
I slept most of the flight, still miserable from everything that happened the night before. My ankle was sprained, so I had been carted around in a wheelchair and had crutches for short distances. The media had gone bat-shit crazy when we arrived at the airport and I could feel Alex’s anger like a physical force. Last night would forever be etched in our minds. I was angry too, but for the most part I just wanted to leave. The queen was dealing with the press and I trusted her to do what was best. Her first move had been to make sure there would be no assault charges pressed against Alex and me. There was photo evidence of the man I kicked touching me and grabbing my purse, which gave me the right to defend myself.
As for Alex, it seemed the reporter was at fault for blocking rescue personnel from a person in need. I had no idea how that worked, but I was saving that to tease Alex with another day. I’m pretty sure I could squeeze several Knight in Shining Armor jokes out of it.
Photographers were waiting in the States, but I chose to ignore them. In fact, our official statement was that there was no official statement at this time and we thanked everyone for respecting us during a difficult time and for giving us our space. I didn’t speak or even look in their direction; Chadwick did all the talking when needed. After the debacle with the nightclub, the city had provided police escorts for us and a security team was set up at the hospital for my father. They were taking no chances. You’d think we would need protection like this from people pointing guns at us, not cameras.
We arrived at the front entrance in a wave of sirens and flashing lights. Jess, Bert, and a man in a suit were waiting at the doors with a wheelchair. Alex helped me out of the car and into the chair.
“Your Highness. Duchess. I am in charge of the cancer ward. I’m sorry to meet you under such terrible circumstances. If I can be of any help, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” The man shook our hands before making way for my friends.
With tears in her eyes, Jess threw her arms around me and then patted my head like I was a sick puppy. Bert leaned down and hugged me carefully, wincing when he saw the bruise on my left temple.
“I’m fine, guys. It’s just my legs. Mostly. I could walk if Alex would stop complaining about how slow I am.”
“Ha ha.” He pushed the chair through the doors and into the main lobby. A few patients seemed surprised to see us, but no one gave us a hard time. The doctor in charge of the cancer ward acted like an ambassador, leading us to Dad and asking if we needed anything.
“How’s Dad?” I looked at Jess.
“He was awake when we came down.” She sighed. “Sam, he doesn’t look good. I just want you to be ready.”
I nodded my head but didn’t say anything. Part of me was terrified of what I’d see and the other part of me wanted to get it out of the way. Some of the staff watched us as we walked by, but it didn’t bother me. They weren’t going out of their way or trying to take pictures. It was more that we were interrupting their routines. It made me feel like a normal person. Who would have thought a bunch of busy, annoyed nurses would make me feel better?
When we got to the door, I made Jess stop. “I don’t want to go in there in a wheelchair.”
“I’ll help you.” Alex slid an arm around my shoulders to help me stand.
“We haven’t told him much. You guys have been all over the news, but I knew you wouldn’t want him to see that,” Jess explained.
“Thank you.”
“We’ll wait out here.”
Alex opened the door so I could hobble in first. He moved beside me to help support my weight on the bad ankle and we crossed the room to the hospital bed. Patricia was sitting in a chair, knitting. Her face was pale and her eyes red. I would hug her after I saw my dad. He had to come first.
“Dad?” I touched his hand, careful to not move any of the tubes or cords. Jess had been right. He barely looked like my father any more.
He opened his eyes slowly and gave me a weak smile. “Hey, baby girl.”