She nodded. “You were in internal medicine? I guess that means you did intubations.”
“Quite a few.”
“When I was a med student, I heard horror stories about ER docs and internists who left their intubated patients alone after a failed code in a room, where the tube was moved by a careless staff member.”
“Which set the doctor up for a malpractice lawsuit when he couldn’t prove he had the tube in correctly,” Rex said. “I heard the same stories.”
“You didn’t do this intubation.” Cheyenne gestured to Edith. “Obviously, you’re not staying to protect your liability.”
He shook his head. “Somehow, it just doesn’t seem right to leave her lying here alone on the cold, hard floor. It’s always been a hang-up of mine.”
“A tender heart? I bet you got teased about that in med school.”
“Not so much in med school as when I was a resident.” He hadn’t minded the teasing. His little eccentricity had actually been the first thing that had drawn Jill to him. It had taken weeks to realize why she’d been so understanding about his quirks—because she had some pretty interesting quirks of her own.
Karah Lee joined them in the room and sank onto the recliner. “Sheena’s not handling this well.”
“Is she going to be okay?” Rex asked.
Karah Lee nodded. “She’s on the telephone with her mother now. You know Jill’s got to be in agony. I’m just glad Noelle went with her.”
“I need to talk to Bertie, myself,” Cheyenne said.
“You’ll get your chance,” Karah Lee said. “And don’t worry, Bertie can handle this. She’s a trouper.”
“Blaze and I were the ones who found her husband dead,” Cheyenne said. “Red was the sweetest old man, deaf as a flowerpot, as Bertie liked to say. After his death, Edith was always there for Bertie, even willing to risk her savings to go into business with her at the bed and breakfast.”
“She was a wise and kind lady,” Rex said.
Karah Lee’s eyes narrowed. “You knew her?”
He looked down and studied the elderly, waxen face. There seemed to be just a hint of pink still in her cheeks. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she was wearing makeup, but anything on her skin would have been removed with all that green stuff.
“You did know Edith?” Cheyenne asked.
“I met her years ago. I take it this was not completely unexpected? Heart failure?”
Cheyenne hesitated, watching him with those dark eyes, obviously trying to decipher the implication of his having known Edith. “She’s been struggling with chronic heart failure for the past year.”
“Was she taking her medication faithfully?”
“Yes, and I thought we were keeping a close eye on her numbers, so this was a shock.”
“You can’t place the human body on a schedule,” he said. “When the heart gives out, it gives out. You know that.”
“Yes, but when we’re especially close to the patient, we do tend to take on more responsibility for the outcome,” Cheyenne said.
“You’ve been in Hideaway before?” Karah Lee asked Rex.
He resisted a smile at the redhead’s evident curiosity. “Yes, and I actually stayed at Edith’s house a few times. Edith was one of the most hospitable people I’ve ever known. She not only fed me and gave me a place to sleep when I visited, but she invited me to return, even after…” He caught himself and fell silent.
Karah Lee and Cheyenne waited.
“You might as well tell us,” Karah Lee said. “We’ll drag it out of you one way or another. What’s up between you and Jill?”
He had hoped to speak with Jill before sharing this information with anyone else. Especially considering the cool reception he had received from her this afternoon, he didn’t want her to feel as if he had betrayed her confidence.
However, he had never sworn to remain silent about their past together. She had done nothing to be ashamed of, though he had been ashamed of his words to her in the hospital cafeteria that one heartbreaking afternoon.
“Don’t even try to tell us you and Jill didn’t have something going on,” Karah Lee said. “I saw her reaction when she realized who you were.”
“We met over twenty years ago, when I was doing rotations in Springfield,” he said, still reluctant to explain. “Jill was doing her clinicals at St. John’s.”
When he was silent for a moment, Cheyenne prompted, “And?”
He was far too conscious of Edith’s still form. “Perhaps it isn’t totally respectful to be talking about this—”
“Spill it, Rex,” Karah Lee said. “Edith would totally approve.”
He glanced at the outspoken young doctor and grimaced. “Jill and I were once engaged to be married.”
Jill stood as if rooted into the grass at the side of the road. The heat of late summer blasted her face, and yet she felt cold. The graceful lines of her sister’s face blurred before her.
“Are you okay?” Noelle asked.
Jill blinked to clear her vision, feeling moisture in her lashes. “Your tone implied Edith might have died from something other than heart failure.”
“Yes, but—”
“Something other than natural causes.”
Noelle gave a quiet sigh, then nodded almost imperceptibly.
“But we were right there in the next room. She was fine.”
“I know.”
“And then I thought I heard her laughing. It probably wasn’t laughter, but…but she might have been clearing something from her throat, and then—”
“Jill, I can’t tell you any more than that right now, because I simply don’t know.”
“So if it wasn’t natural causes, then that means someone or something else caused her death.” Suddenly self-doubt attacked Jill. “Could I have made a mistake? Could I have been wrong when I thought she’d stopped breathing, and when I initiated CPR I actually caused her heart to—”
“Stop that.” Noelle seldom raised her voice at Jill, but the sudden intensity of those two words halted the painfully familiar sense of panic.
“Remember I told you that especially this time you aren’t to blame?”
“Then someone else is?” Jill asked.
“I’m not saying that, either. Don’t put words in my mouth. I just think there’s something else wrong here.” Noelle hesitated, her expression clouding. Jill wasn’t the only one in this family who had an overwhelming amount of self-doubt. “But with Edith’s heart, we knew it was probably just a matter of time.”
Jill felt another twist in her gut, in spite of Noelle’s reassurance. “I might have done something wrong.”
“No. You did everything right.”
“How can you know that for sure? You weren’t there the whole time.”
“Stop second-guessing yourself. You’re the best—”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have started CPR.” Jill paced across the grass a couple of yards. “Maybe her heart was fine before I—”
“Jill!”