The Doctor's Secret Bride(54)

“Visitors? What?” came a frail response.

“It’s our son, Erik, and our granddaughter, Precious?” Philippe motioned for them to get closer.

Michelle released Precious’ hand, and the little girl walked cautiously but bravely up to the bed.

Precious stared at Danielle for a short moment then leaned over and hugged her, placing a wet kiss on her cheek. “Hi, Grandma Danielle. I’m Precious.”

“Precious.” Danielle whispered. She struggled, unsuccessfully, to put an arm around Precious when Philippe leaned in to help.

Michelle pressed a hand to her mouth as she took in the heartrending scene, knowing it would be the last time Precious would hug her grandmother.

“I love you, Grandma Danielle. I hope you get better soon. My daddy is a doctor and he can make you better. Right, Daddy?” She gazed up at her father.

The panic in his daughter’s voice and the hope in her eyes tossed Erik back a couple years to the day he buried her mother. He stepped forward and picked her up off the bed. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring Precious here, for her to see Danielle like this with the smell of death heavy in the air. “Take her out,” he said, placing her in the arms of a maid lurking outside the door.#p#分页标题#e#

He took a swift glance at Michelle and noticed the tears in her eyes. He marveled that she could feel the pain and loss of a woman she didn’t even know.

He sat on the side of the bed and held Danielle’s frail hand—the hand that had soothed his brow, wiped his tears, and bandaged his bruises for so many years. She’d opened her heart to him, and raised and loved him as her own. Not once did he detect animosity or contempt in those beautiful hazel eyes that now stared vaguely back at him. Like his father said, what was done was done. He brushed back a few strands of wispy hair from her forehead. Her skin felt cool, puffy, and clammy—not warm and soft and plump as he remembered.

He managed to smile. “Hi, Mom. I want you to know that I love you very much. I thank you for opening up your heart and home to me. You were a wonderful mother—the best, and I shall miss you, dearly.” He let the tears roll freely down his cheeks.

“You? Who?” The forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“This is Erik, darling. Felicia’s son.” Philippe stroked the thin layer of blonde hair matted to his wife’s scalp. “You remember Felicia?”

Erik watched as Danielle’s eyes moved beyond his shoulders.

“Fe…le…cia,” he heard her say as her swollen face strained against the wide grin she tried to display.

Erik held his breath when he realized she was staring at Michelle. Felicia and Michelle both had black hair and similar body structure. They were both black. It was easy for a woman in Danielle’s condition to get them confused.

He remembered what his father had told him about the special friendship between Felicia and Danielle. Would Michelle give his mother this last cup of happiness? He knew it was asking too much of her, especially after he’d pretended earlier today that she was his wife. If she didn’t…

“Hello, Danielle. It’s been a while. I hope you haven’t missed me too much.”

Erik let his breath out at the sound of her husky voice. Bless her sweet heart.

Danielle’s eyes twinkled as she forced the words from her lips. “You… love… Erik?”





CHAPTER ELEVEN



Michelle dropped her gaze to the floor, but she felt all eyes on her. She realized Danielle thought she was speaking to Felicia and the Erik she was referring to was her husband, not her son. Her first thought was to set her straight, but sympathy for the dying woman touched her deeply. Erik had already pretended she was his wife today, so why not pretend she was his mother, too? What could it hurt? Besides, she did love Erik. She could speak the words freely without him knowing the truth in her heart.

She smiled as she met Danielle’s gaze. “Yes, Danielle. I love Erik very much,” she said, a deep sense of longing brewing in her heart.

“You… marry… him.”

“Yes, I’ll marry him, and I’ll try to make him as happy as you made him. I’ll take great care of him, I promise.”

Danielle heaved a weary sigh, slumped into the pillows and closed her eyes. “Tired,” she whispered breathlessly.

Michelle rushed from the room and stumbled blindly toward the guest bedroom, but she hadn’t gotten far before Erik’s hand closed around her arm. He pulled her into a room and closed the door. She stood rigid as she fought to steady her ragged breathing.

“She isn’t lucid, Michelle,” he said in a heavy voice. “She thought she was talking to Felicia.”