Honor Guards Part 20

The series of Roger that's made Blair smile. She reached out to clasp Cam's hand.

"Well, then. Let's get this over with."

Nude except for a thin cotton gown tied in the back, Blair lay on a stretcher with the back elevated to forty-five degrees, a sheet pulled to her waist. Cam waited by her side, their fingers entwined. Stark stood guard just inside the door of the holding area-the anteroom where patients were readied to be taken back to the operating room. Felicia and Cynthia were posted in the hallway just outside, and Mac waited with the vehicle in an underground parking garage. There were no other patients in the holding area. It was 6:45 a.m.

Cam heard a voice in the hallway shout Attention just as Stark snapped into position, hands at her side and eyes front. Andrew Powell stepped into the room with three men close behind. He stopped abruptly and then turned to say something to the man closest to him. His lead security agent looked unhappy but he and the other two men backed out into the hallway. Then the president rapidly crossed the room to stand on the side of the stretcher opposite Cam. He leaned down and kissed Blair's forehead.

"Hi, honey."

"Hi, Dad."

The president glanced over at Cam. "Cam."

"Sir."

"How are you doing?" he asked gently as he brushed a nonexistent strand of hair from Blair's cheek. His blue eyes, exactly the same shade as Blair's, swirled with emotion.

She smiled up at him, her gaze calm. "I'm okay. Really."

"Of course." He regarded her solemnly. "I'm glad you called."

Blair glanced at Cam, then at her father. "I should've called sooner. I'm sorry."

The president shook his head slightly. "I'm sure you had a lot on your mind." He cleared his throat. "Do you mind if I talk to the doctor?"

"No, but there isn't anything to tell just yet. After the biopsy, then we'll know." Blair took a deep breath. "Dad, it's probably going to turn out to be nothing. This is just a precaution."

"I know that," he said with certainty.

At that moment, Leah Saunders, dressed in navy blue scrubs, walked in through a door at the rear of the room. When she saw the president by Blair's side, she saluted smartly. "Sir. I'm Colonel Saunders, your daughter's physician."

"Doctor," Powell said.

"We're about set," Dr. Saunders said, her focus now on Blair. "Ready?"

"Yes."

"I'll just give you a minute then, and the aides will take you back. I'll meet you there."

Andrew Powell kissed Blair's forehead once again. "I'll see you in a little while, honey."

"Dad," Blair protested, "you don't have to stay."

"I can take phone calls here as well as anywhere else." He smiled and stepped back a few paces to give his daughter and her lover privacy.

Cam kissed Blair gently on the lips. "I love you, baby."

"I love you, too."

"See you soon," Cam whispered, feeling helpless and useless and furious at her impotence.

As the a.s.sistants pushed the stretcher toward the doors to the operating room, Cam walked alongside, still holding Blair's hand, until they reached the restricted area. Then she stood in the doorway until Blair was out of sight. Turning back, she saw that the president still waited, and she rejoined him.

"Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I just don't want to go very far." What she wanted to do was shove back through the double doors with the big red Restricted sign, find Blair, and get her the h.e.l.l out of there.

Something of what she was feeling must have shown in her face, because the president's expression softened and sympathy flickered in his eyes. "They'll take good care of her here. Plus, it will take more than this to knock Blair down."

Cam smiled faintly. "I know. She's amazing."

The president nodded. "Yes, she is."

With her coffee growing cold in a cup on the end table, Cam paced in front of the window in a private waiting room while the president sat on a sofa in the far corner talking on the phone. His security agents flanked the door. Cam had stationed Felicia and Stark in the recovery room where Blair would be taken after her surgery. She glanced at her watch for the tenth time. 0725.

She tried to visualize what was happening to Blair while she stood powerless to help. Hospitals were such cold, impersonal places. She remembered what it had been like when she'd been shot the last time. The lights in the ICU were so bright and the m.u.f.fled voices so confusing and the disorientation so frightening. And the pain. Jesus, the pain. "I just don't want her to hurt."

"The biopsy shouldn't be too bad," Andrew Powell said quietly.

Jerking in surprise at the sound of his voice, Cam met his eyes. "Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't." He set his papers aside and joined her at the window. "She'll be sore for a few days, but I doubt it will bother her much."

Cam stared at the expanse of green lawns visible through the window, thinking that she was only experiencing a fraction of the anxiety and anguish this man had endured when the woman he loved had gone through something far worse. "I hate not knowing what to do to help her."

"Yes," the president said quietly. "I know."

They stood silently a moment longer until the president's phone rang again, and he turned away with a brief pat on Cam's shoulder.

At 7:50 a.m., Dr. Saunders appeared. The president hastily concluded his phone call and stood. The surgeon looked first at Cam and then at the president.

"Ms. Powell is fine. She's in the recovery room and resting comfortably."

Cam and Andrew Powell both spoke at once.

"What about-"

"Did you-"

The president motioned to Cam. "Go ahead."

"Can you tell anything yet?" Cam's heart was racing and her throat was dry. Even in the midst of a crisis, her heart rate never rose above sixty. Now it felt like it was going to beat out of her chest.

"Nothing definitive," the surgeon said apologetically. "We really can't tell anything without a thorough pathologic examination, but I will say that the lesion was small, and I'm quite sure I removed it all. There was a small lymph node in the area that I removed as well. That appeared perfectly normal."

"How long until the pathology report is available?" the president asked.

"I put a rush on it, sir. Sometime tomorrow."

"Can we see her?" Cam asked.

"Yes. She's been sedated, but I'm sure she'll be happy to see you both."

Cam extended her hand. "Thank you."

Dr. Saunders smiled. "Of course." She turned to the president and saluted. "Sir."

"Thank you, Colonel," the president replied as he returned her salute.

"Hey," Blair said thickly, blinking to focus her eyes. "You guys still here?"

"Yes," Cam murmured as she leaned down to kiss her lover's forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Hurts a little but..I've taken worse hits than this...in the ring." With effort, she turned her head and regarded her father. "You okay?"

"Just fine, honey. I have a meeting scheduled so I need to leave in a minute. The doctor says you did great."

"I can't...remember anything." Blair frowned. "d.a.m.n drugs."

Cam grinned. "Why don't you close your eyes and get some sleep."

"Does she...know anything yet?" Blair struggled to clear her head and failed. "Hate...the waiting."

"I know, baby," Cam murmured soothingly, reaching over the rail to stroke Blair's hair. "We'll know soon. And then we'll take care of it."

"You sure?"

"I promise," Cam said fiercely. She continued to stroke Blair's cheek as her lover's eyelids fluttered closed. Once she was certain Blair was asleep, Cam straightened and found the president's gaze fixed intently upon her. "We'll be at my apartment tonight, sir. I'll call you with an update, if that's all right with you."

"That sounds fine. I can see that she'll be in good hands."

"Thank you, sir."

He shook his head, saying quietly, "No, Cam. Thank you."

Alone, Cam pulled a chair over and settled down to wait. Stark and Davis stood at the door, quietly keeping guard.

"I feel fine, and I'm sick of lying in bed."

Cam had never heard Blair sound petulant before, and she found it rather endearing. However, she hid her smile, preferring not to incite her reluctant patient any further. "How about if we just have our pizza in bed while we watch a movie? You don't have to sleep."

Blair regarded her lover suspiciously. Her breast ached, her head felt fuzzy, and Cam had been so sweet all afternoon, it was making her cranky. She didn't like being taken care of-well, maybe she did, a little. And that was annoying her, too. "What kind?"

"Cheese."

"No pepperoni?"

"Ah-I thought that might be a bit much after the anesthesia and all." Cam eased onto the bed and settled her hand on Blair's thigh. In a husky voice, she murmured, "I got The Mummy Returns, "

"Letterbox?"

"Uh-huh."

Carefully, Blair s.h.i.+fted over to make room on the pillows piled at the head of the bed. "Okay. Cheese sounds good."

"Want a pain pill?"

"No."

"Maybe after you eat?"

Blair started to protest, but caught a glimpse of the worry in Cam's eyes. She covered Cam's hand with her own and squeezed gently. "I will if I need it. Promise."

"Deal. I'll get some paper plates and more soda."

Halfway through the mummy's rampage through London, Blair fell asleep. Cam rose gingerly, gathered up the leftovers, and carried the lot to the kitchen. Her head throbbed, and yet she didn't feel tired. Now that Blair was home, and safe, the last few days felt more and more like a bad dream. It was hard to believe that there could be anything wrong with Blair, let alone something life-threatening. Still, Cam knew it wasn't quite over yet. And the waiting was pure torture.

Leaning against the counter, she rubbed her hands over her face in a vain attempt to chase away the headache and settle her nerves. Then, abruptly, she reached for the phone and punched in a number.

"Mother? There's something I want to talk to you about."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

25 August 2001 B lair sat curled up in the corner of the couch, a pillow behind her back and a blanket over her knees. She sketched on a pad that lay in her lap, her eyes drifting between the paper and the woman who sat across from her at a small table by the windows. Cam wore a faded; nearly threadbare work s.h.i.+rt and red boxers. Only two b.u.t.tons just below her b.r.e.a.s.t.s held the s.h.i.+rt closed. Her dark hair was unruly and her profile pale and remote, as if chiseled from stone.

"You have a face to make an artist weep," Blair muttered as she drew rapidly.

"Huh?" Cam glanced up and turned in Blair's direction. "Need something?"

A slow, suggestive smile lit Blair's face. "Maybe."

"Feeling better?" Cam grinned back, one brow arching. She was glad that Blair seemed able to lose herself in her work, because all she had wanted to do since wakening was call the doctor to ask if the pathology report was finished. She hadn't, knowing that as soon as Dr. Saunders had any information, she would contact Blair. One did not keep the first daughter in the dark about something like that any longer than necessary.

"Just fine." Blair indicated the empty s.p.a.ce on the other end of the sofa. "Except I'm kind of lonely."

Cam set the newspaper aside and crossed the room to join her lover. Once seated, she drew one leg up on the cus.h.i.+on and extended her arm along the back, facing Blair. Her bare foot just brushed the bottom of the blanket draped over Blair's bent knees. "Are you going to be all right for the show in terms of finis.h.i.+ng everything up?"

"Mmm," Blair replied absently, flipping to a fresh page on her sketchpad. "I might not finish one or two...depending on...how long we stay here. But even without them, I should be okay." She looked up, meeting Cam's eyes. "Would you mind unb.u.t.toning your s.h.i.+rt?"

"All right," Cam replied slowly, her tone pitched low. Moving nothing except her hand, she loosed the two b.u.t.tons and allowed her s.h.i.+rt to fall open between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Good enough?"

"For the moment."