Always The Wedding Planner, Never The Bride Part 27

"Taking her to the hospital," he returned as he plowed through the door to the garage and deposited her in the pa.s.senger seat of his car. "Just take slow, even breaths. Slow and even."

"Should I come?" Emma called out.

"I'll call you."

"I'm following in my car."

Sherilyn tried to communicate, but it looked like the words in her head couldn't quite squeeze out of her throat.

"Don't talk," he warned as he slammed the door shut and jogged around the car and slipped behind the wheel. "Don't try to talk."

As he barrelled down the driveway in reverse, he looked back for an instant. Russell stood in the middle of the garage looking after them with Henry at his feet.

Andy pressed the b.u.t.ton to lower the garage door. Flurries of snow fell, and he flipped on the winds.h.i.+eld wipers at the corner stop. They tapped out the backbeat of the rhythm of Sherilyn's shallow, wheezing attempts at breathing.

"Hang in there," he told her softly. "Slow, even breaths." If only Andy could have taken his own advice.

"What is causing these episodes, Doctor? This is my second trip to the hospital!"

"It is clearly allergic," Dr. Sames.h.i.+ told them in broken English. "Chart say allergic to aloe vera. You use any new lotions or hair products today?"

"No."

"You?" he asked Andy.

"Nothing. Nothing with aloe," he promised Sherilyn.

"Wheeze and breath, b.u.mpy rash. You find the source of your allergic. Tell me where located when occurred first episode."

Sherilyn scratched her hazy head. "Well, umm . . ."

"We were ice skating," Andy interjected.

"You were together?"

"Yes. And the second time, I was over at the house for the barbecue."

"Boyfriend's house?"

"Yes. Well, our house. We're getting married and-"

"And tonight boyfriend with you again."

"Yes. We were at the house." She paused, mid-thought. "Where's Emma?"

"Waiting room," Andy answered before asking, "What do you think it is, Doctor?"

Dr. Sames.h.i.+ shrugged and grimaced. "I think boyfriend your allergic maybe."

Andy and Sherilyn glanced at one another, then looked back at the doctor.

"I don't understand," she said.

"Skating with boyfriend," he explained. "Barbecue with boyfriend. At house with boyfriend. I think allergic is boyfriend."

"What!"

"That's ridiculous."

"Maybe not then," he conceded, and he rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. "But maybe so."

"She is not allergic to me, Doctor."

"What then?" he asked Andy.

"Well, you're the doctor. You tell us!"

"I thought I did. Common denominator you, boyfriend."

Sherilyn watched the gears in motion through Andy's eyes. Three episodes, all three times with Andy.

Suddenly, the bridal gown disappearances fell into place like those turning gears in Andy's brain. G.o.d was certainly trying to stop the wedding! No wedding gown-twice! Wheezing and rashes and tingling ears. And now this.

"I'm allergic to my fiance?"

"Seems like it."

"I'm allergic to Andy."

"Is this Andy?" the doctor asked, pointing his thumb toward Andy.

"Yes."

"Then yes."

"No!" she countered.

"Okay. Good-bye."

"Wait!" she cried as he exited the exam room. "You can't just tell me I'm allergic to my fiance and walk away."

"You have Benadryl injection, prescription for inhaler, note for follow-up for allergic scratch test. Maybe allergic to new cologne."

Sherilyn looked at Andy, and he exclaimed, "I don't wear cologne!"

"Okay. Good-bye."

And with that, Dr. Sames.h.i.+ pulled the curtain of the cubicle next to them. "h.e.l.lo. You fall on ice? Oh, that don't look too good."

Andy stopped by the hotel that morning to check on Sherilyn, and he felt pretty good about leaving her with Emma and Fee. While Emma applied white cream to the rash of red b.u.mps, Fee entertained them with her version of Dude, Where's Her Wedding Dress? The latter, of course, being a question Fee had asked every employee on the Tanglewood payroll.

"I've got most of the staff looking for it, and we're going to find your dress!" Fee had declared with the kind of vigor that made Andy actually believe her.

All that, and an omelette for breakfast. Sherilyn was in capable hands, but before Andy could even make his way out the door, one rough knock sounded on it.

Russell's voice grated on him, a little like nails across a very long chalkboard.

"Morning, love."

"Russell! What are you doing here?"

Good question.

A stranger followed Russell and Jackson into the room.

"I had to check in on you before we go, and I wanted you to meet my mate, J.R. Hunt."

"J.R.," Sherilyn greeted the guy. "You're finally here."

"You must be Sherilyn. I hear you gave everyone quite a scare last night."

The guy looked like a James Dean wannabe with his worn brown leather jacket with open zippers from wrist to elbow over a plain black t-s.h.i.+rt and worn blue jeans. s.h.a.ggy waves of brown hair were slicked back from his stubbly face, and his blue eyes glinted as he looked at Sherilyn over the square black sungla.s.ses perched on the lower bridge of his nose.

"And these are Sherilyn's mates," Russell told him. "Jackson's woman, Emma. And that's Sean's main squeeze, Fee. Over there is my host, Dr. Andy."

"Good to meet Russ's merry band of saviors."

"So when do you two shove off?" Andy asked, trying not to sound as eager as he felt.

"We're leaving directly," Russell replied. "Jack's been good enough to let us park the rig in the hotel lot for a couple o' weeks while we're on the road. And J.R. has brought along a sweet Harley ride for each of us."

"You're riding motorcycles in this weather?" Sherilyn cried. "You'll freeze!"

"Nah, love. We're headed south where the sun is s.h.i.+ning bright."

"You're sure?"

"Seventy-four degrees in Tampa. Seventy-nine in Miami."

"Be sure and check in with us when you get back."

"Righty-oh."

"J.R., you'll look out for him, right?" Sherilyn asked him.

"He has a tendency to ooze trouble."

"I'm aware," he answered with the flash of a smile.

Sherilyn stood up and slipped her arms around Russell's neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Be careful," she told him, and Andy resisted the urge to say or do something to shove the good-byes along.

"Will do."

Russell made the rounds in the room, saying his good-byes as if he had a worldwide trek in mind rather than a couple of weeks on a motorcycle trip with a buddy. When he reached Andy, he shook his hand.

"Thanks for everything, Doc."

When Andy tried to pull out of the handshake, Russell smacked it with his free hand, holding it in place.

He looked Andy in the eye seriously and spoke softly. "By the way, you had a visitor before we left the house today, mate."

"Oh?"

"The name Maya ring any chimes?"

Before Andy could reply, Russell released him and headed for the door. With his arm strapped around J.R.'s neck, he began singing Born to Be Wild. Even after Jackson closed the door, they could hear the remnants of the song until the two men got into the elevator.

"Russell has a great singing voice," Emma commented.

"I think I read he has a rock band," Fee added. "They play in little clubs every now and again."

Andy had no time to weigh his newly-gleaned information about Sherilyn's penchant for rock stars. All he had room for was the echoing lyrics of the quiet song Russell had left behind.

The name Maya ring any chimes?

"I'm so glad you called, Andy."

"This isn't a social call, Maya." Andy pointed to the chair across the table. "Please sit down."

He chose the Starbucks in Buckhead because he remembered it as the closest one to Maya's dance studio. He'd have preferred to meet somewhere they'd never been together, but he decided not to put that much time or thought into it.

"You ordered my coffee?" she asked, running a finger around the rim of the cup he'd placed on her side of the table.

"Yes."

"You remember my order, after all this time?"

"I didn't come here to talk about coffee, Maya."

"So why did you come?"

The way she smiled at him, the flicker of intimacy in her dark brown eyes, it was all too familiar. It made his gut tighten, squeezing him with the threat of emotions better left buried.

"Look, I heard you stopped by my house this morning."

"Yeah," she said, pausing for a sip from the mocha latte, skinny, no foam. "When did you get to be chummy with Russell Walker? You can't imagine how shocked I was when he opened your door!"

"Maya. Can we focus?"