Best Dating Rules by Tamie Dearen (story books to read .TXT) 📗

Gherring groaned into the phone. “Spencer, we’re both coming. Thank you so much.”

Spencer told the taxi driver, “Okay. We need to go to the emergency room now.”

“Spencer? Is she breathing? I can’t tell.” Her voice was shrill.

“Quick! Lay her across my lap!” He bent over to feel for her breath and listen and watch to see her chest move.

“Drive faster! Grace, call nine-one-one, and tell them we’re coming.” His heart was hammering in his chest. Did he remember what to do? He gave her two quick breaths and felt for a pulse. Thready. Only a few beats. He moved awkwardly to crouch on the floorboard and lay her down onto the seat, attempting to do chest compressions. “Oh God! Please, help us! Hurry up! I don’t have enough room—I’m too big. I can’t remember how many I’m supposed to do.” Tears were pouring down his face now. He breathed into her mouth again. “I can’t even get her in the right position. I don’t know if it’s working.” He pushed desperately on her chest, trying to keep his balance as the taxi careened around corners and sped along the streets. Again and again he breathed into her still body, praying the air was going into her lungs, praying the taxi would hurry. Over and over he pushed on her chest, begging God to let her live, his tears dripping on her.

Suddenly the door opened and someone tried to take her body away from him. “No! She needs CPR!” He held onto her and tried to drag her back.

“Spencer, let them take her!” Grace cried, pulling his arms away. “They know what to do.”

“Oh God, Gracie!” He buried his face in her arms, sobbing. “I’ve lost her. I didn’t do it right—I couldn’t save her.”

The fierce hug Grace returned did little to calm his sense of desperation as Emily’s lifeless body wheeled into the emergency room.

Chapter Nine

Anne shuddered, tamping down another wave of nausea while sitting in the cold sterile room staring at the machines and tubes that were connected to her daughter. Grace was slumped in sleep in the chair beside her. Spencer sat in the chair next to Emily’s hospital bed bent forward and resting his head on the metal railing. Four a.m., almost six hours since Spencer had called to give them the alarming news about Emily passing out at a bar. Arriving at the hospital in fifteen minutes, the scene awaiting them was even worse than they feared.

The emergency room doctor regurgitated mumbo-jumbo about her respiration being severely depressed, causing cardiac arrest... doctor-speak for “she quit breathing and her heart quit beating.” Why would a healthy twenty-four-year-old’s lungs and heart quit working? Drug overdose. Probably a combination of drugs and alcohol. Doctors restarted her heart and hooked her up to a respirator.

Then came the infuriating questions. Did Emily have a history of drug and alcohol abuse? Did she have problems with depression? Had she ever been hospitalized for drug or alcohol use? How much alcohol did she consume on a weekly basis?

But when the doctor recognized Steven, her words in Emily’s defense were suddenly more plausible. Yes, it was possible someone put something in her drink. Blood and urine samples were sent for analysis and the doctors performed gastric lavage, fancy words for pumping out her stomach. Steven insisted they call the police.

Charlie called on Emily’s phone, returning Emily’s earlier call. “If I had only answered my phone, I would have made her leave that place. I didn’t hear it ring, and I didn’t realize she’d called me until I got home. I should have talked her out of going in the first place.”

Anne felt equally guilty. “It’s not your fault, Charlie. She told me about it, too. She wasn’t interested in being talked out of it. For some reason she was determined to go out with this guy.”

“Mom, she wouldn’t have listened to you. But I might have been able to talk her out of it. I figured it was too late, since she didn’t call me until right before she left.”

Charlie booked a flight to New York in the morning. She insisted on coming, saying Emily would come for her.

Anne was emotionally and physically exhausted, but tried to hide the fatigue and the returning nausea from Steven. He was in power mode, ordering everyone around and using his considerable influence to make things happen. He was like a dictator—a well-meaning dictator, but a dictator nonetheless. If he suspected she wasn’t feeling well, he would send her home or simply check her into the hospital. She had no chance of winning an argument with him right now.

Steven marched into the room, surveying the surrounding scene.

Spencer stood, keeping his hand clasped around Emily’s limp one. “What happened? What did you find out from the police? Did they talk to Denning?”

Steven’s jaw muscles clenched. “Yes, they talked to him. They don’t think he did it. It wasn’t long from the time Becca sent you the picture until Denning called Grace. In his statement, he claimed she was acting really drunk when they were leaving. He said she complained about feeling bad, sat down, and passed out. They never even left the bar.”

“He was still a jerk. He didn’t even stay with her until we got there. He left her passed out on that chair.” Spencer released Emily’s hand, pacing with long strides while he pulled at his hair.. “I should never have left her there. She’s too naïve, and I thought he looked like a sleaze. But, I was so mad she lied to me.” He paused beside Anne’s chair. “That guy didn’t even know where she lived—she barely knew him. What was she doing anyway? Why would she go on a date with him?”

“I don’t know, Spencer. She’s normally mature and sensible. But every once in a while, she gets caught on some tangent. When that happens, she gets really stubborn,