When Dreams Tremble Page 2

  sample site. “I’m a freshwater biologist. I started out studying Þ sh populations

  and got interested in the effects of environmental alterations on breeding and

  population dynamics.”

  “So that’s how you ended up with the DEC.”

  “Technically, I’m an independent consultant, but I’m heading up a joint survey

  this summer with the Derrin Freshwater Institute and the state.”

  “Fish, huh?” Natalie shook her head and laughed. “If you don’t mind my asking,

  how the hell did you ever get interested in Þ sh?”

  Dev wondered if it would make any sense if she told her the truth.

  If she explained that she’d grown up a stone’s throw from where they had

  collected the Þ rst sample. That the lake had been her Þ rst and, in the end, her

  best friend. That for as long as she could remember, she’d never Þ t in

  anywhere. Not at home, not at school. She’d spent hours on the water, in the

  water, from the time she’d been old enough to walk.

  She’d found peace in those quiet alone times as she’d lain on the dock in the hot

  summer sun watching the small schools of Þ sh circle in the

  • 19 •

  RADCLY fFE

  shallows. She had wondered then what it would be like to be part of a group

  like that, moving so easily together, effortlessly attuned. To be accepted, to

  belong. She didn’t know then. She still didn’t, but she didn’t wonder any longer.

  She didn’t know Natalie well enough to share those secrets, and even if she

  had, she wouldn’t have answered any differently. Those times were long past. “I

  spent so much time in the water when I was a kid, I guess I thought I was part Þ

  sh.”

  “Well,” Natalie said, deciding to Þ re the Þ rst shot as she gave Devon a slow,

  appreciative once-over, “you look to be all woman now.”

  Dev took a quick read and added up the Þ ndings. The answer was pretty

  clear. Natalie was very attractive, she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and it was

  forecast to be a long, hot summer. Dev leaned back with a smile. “Nice to know

  you noticed.”

  • 20 •

  WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

  CHAPTER TWO

  By the time the EMTs arrived, Leslie felt almost normal again.

  Certainly no worse than she had on quite a few occasions in recent weeks.

  She’d been working hard and sleeping even less than usual. It was nothing more

  than that.

  “Look, really,” she protested as a husky young blond with shaggy hair and a

  deep tan, who might have been called a surfer dude in another time and place,

  lifted her into a wheelchair with the help of his intensely serious female partner,

  “I feel perfectly Þ ne now. Obviously I had a little dizzy spell, which has passed.

  Please let me up.”

  “Just try to relax, ma’am,” the brunette said mechanically as she slipped a sticky

  EKG pad inside Leslie’s blouse and afÞ xed it gently to her upper breast.

  Ma’am, Leslie thought with irrational temper. She has her hand inside my

  blouse and she’s calling me ma’am. There was something terribly wrong with

  this picture. This was not her. In a move that startled even herself, she slapped

  the EMT’s hand away. With the practiced voice that was calculated to make

  jurors sit up straight in their seats, she snapped, “I’m not going to the hospital.”

  The one who’d ma’am’d her leaned down with a hand wrapped around either

  arm of the wheelchair. She spoke quietly so no one else could hear. “It sucks to

  have everyone all over you like this, I know. But your blood pressure’s still a

  little bit low and your heart rate’s a tiny bit elevated. If you try to walk out of

  here, I think you’re going to go down again. That will buy you a trip to the ICU.

  Just let us take you to the emergency room where you can be checked out.”

  Leslie studied the dark, deep eyes inches from her own. She

  • 21 •

  RADCLY fFE

  hadn’t seen anyone look at her like that, with such compassion and

  understanding, for…so long, she couldn’t remember. How was it that a stranger

  could touch her so deeply and those who supposedly knew her intimately never

  touched her at all? Truth be told, she did feel terrible.

  “Just get me out of here quickly, please,” she whispered.

  “You got it. I’m Amy, by the way.”

  “You have beautiful eyes, Amy,” Leslie murmured as she suddenly drifted away.

  v

  The next time Leslie opened her eyes she was propped up into a semisitting

  position on a narrow bed with a thin, hard mattress and covered by a stiff white

  sheet that smelled of strong detergent. A sickly-green curtain, a shade darker

  than the equally nauseating tiles on the walls, covered the doorway. The

  overhead light was so bright she was forced to squint. She was ß eetingly very

  happy she didn’t have a migraine. What she did have was a plethora of

  intravenous lines and leads and other things she didn’t recognize connecting her

  to an assortment of monitoring devices that ringed the bed. Surely whatever was

  wrong with her didn’t warrant this much attention. She felt a frisson of anxiety

  that she quickly squelched and fumbled around on the bed for a call button.

  Annoyed when she found none, she considered shouting, but decided that

  would only win her even more unwanted interest.

  In search of the handle to lower the bed rail, she slid her hand along the outside

  of the stretcher. She’d just located it when the curtain was twitched aside and a

  smiling man in a white lab coat entered. The words Emergency Physician were

  embroidered in red, slanting letters over his left breast pocket. Beneath that was

  his name. Peter Erhart, M.D.

  “I’m Dr. Erhart.” He stated the obvious and pressed Leslie’s hand by way of

  greeting. “How are you feeling?”

  “Other than a little tired, Þ ne. I hope you’re here to discharge me.”

  The doctor pulled a stainless steel stool to the side of the stretcher and sat

  down. When he crossed his arms on the top of the bed rail, he and Leslie were

  nearly eye to eye. “We’d like to keep you overnight for observation.”

  • 22 •

  WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

  Leslie’s stomach tightened, but she knew from experience that nothing would

  show on her face. Calmly, she asked, “Why is that?”

  “Your EKG shows frequent runs of supraventricular tachycardia and occasional

  short bursts of atrial ß utter accompanied by a precipitous drop in your blood

  pressure.”

  “Which is why I fainted.”

  Dr. Erhart looked surprised. “I understand you’re an attorney. Do you handle

  medical cases?”

  “No, but my…an associate does. I understand what you’re saying.”

  She’d discussed enough malpractice cases with Rachel to understand the

  terminology. She wondered idly if anyone had called Rachel, and then realized

  no one would have had any reason to. A few people in the ofÞ ce, including

  Stephanie, were probably aware of her relationship with Rachel Hawthorne, but

  it wasn’t as if they presented themselves as a couple. Which they weren’t. Not

  technically. She realized her mind was wandering, something else that never

>   happened to her, and she forced herself to focus. “What’s causing it and what

  needs to be done about it?”

  Dr. Erhart smiled. “I wish I could answer both questions right now, but I can’t.

  Any number of things could be causing the accelerated heart rate, including ß

  uctuations in hormone levels, medications, drugs.”

  When he let the last word linger in the air, Leslie narrowed her eyes. “I’m not on

  any medication and I don’t take drugs of any kind. I don’t smoke and I drink in

  moderation.”

  “Your baseline blood pressure is also off the charts for someone your age. So it

  might be something as simple as stress…perhaps something at work? Or at

  home?”

  “No. Neither.” Leslie made an impatient gesture, which was cut short by the taut

  intravenous line tethering her to a nearby pole. “Look.

  I understand the need to be thorough and—”

  The ß uttering in her chest started at the same time as the monitor next to the

  bed began to screech. She struggled to catch her breath and found she couldn’t.

  She was aware of Dr. Erhart speaking into the intercom next to the door, and

  after what seemed like an eternity, a woman in scrubs appeared and injected

  something into Leslie’s IV line.

  A minute later the monitor fell silent, and the wild churning in her chest subsided.

  • 23 •

  RADCLY fFE

  “Jesus,” Leslie whispered, still short of breath. “What was that?”

  “That was another run of very rapid tachycardia,” Dr. Erhart said solemnly. He

  turned to the nurse. “Call admissions and tell them we’ll need a telemetry bed

  for Ms. Harris.”

  This time, Leslie didn’t argue. “I need to make some calls. Could someone see if

  Stephanie Ackerman is here?”

  As Leslie suspected, Stephanie had come to the hospital directly from the

  courthouse. When she appeared, Leslie felt ridiculously comforted. “Thanks for

  sticking around, Steph.”

  “Hey,” Stephanie said softly. “Of course I would.” She glanced at the monitors

  on either side of the bed and then back at Leslie. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, they’re just being careful. CYA.” Leslie trusted Stephanie, but she had no

  intention of sharing the details. After all, it was all going to be straightened out in

  a matter of a few hours. “By the time they Þ nish with all their tests, I’m

  probably not going to get out of here until the morning. I’ll need you to check

  with Bill and Þ nd out how the judge is going to rule on continuing the trial.”

  Stephanie made notes on the rest of Leslie’s requests and promised to call her

  that evening with any follow-up.

  “I think that does it.” Leslie leaned back and closed her eyes, more tired than

  she’d realized. “Thanks. I’ll call you when I get home in the morning.”

  “Sure.” Stephanie hesitated. “Uh…anyone else you’d like me to call?”

  Frowning, Leslie opened her eyes. “Did I forget something?”

  “I meant personally.”

  Leslie blushed. “Oh. I don’t know that that’s necessary. But thanks.”

  “Sure.”

  Feeling as if she should explain, Leslie added, “I’ll take care of those calls when

  I get upstairs.”

  “I understand. If you need anything, you know my number.”

  “’Preciate it.” Leslie smiled goodbye, glad for the quiet and the chance to close

  her eyes again.

  When a cheerful middle-aged Asian man arrived to transport her to her room,

  Leslie was surprised to discover that she’d slept for almost two hours. When

  she was Þ nally settled and alone after repeating her medical history yet again to

  the nurses and resident staff, she used the

  • 24 •

  WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

  bedside phone and asked the operator for an outside line. She wasn’t surprised

  when the number she called rang to voicemail. “Rach, it’s me.

  I know this is ridiculous, but I’m actually in…oh, I don’t know why I’m even

  bothering you with this.” She contemplated hanging up and then Þ nished in a

  rush. “I’m in the hospital. It’s nothing serious. Some little glitch in my hormones

  or something. I’ll be released in the morning.

  I know you’re wrapping up that big trial, so I’ll call you when I get home. Don’t

  worry.”

  As the sounds outside her room gradually quieted, Leslie lay awake staring at

  the ceiling while reviewing her upcoming cases, prioritizing her work, and

  rehearsing how she would explain away this event to her partners. Several times

  she was aware of the ß uttering in her chest, which she now recognized as the

  irregular heartbeat. She determined to ignore it, until just after midnight when the

  frantic racing started and wouldn’t stop.

  v

  “My God, Leslie,” Rachel Hawthorne said, looking more aggravated than

  concerned when she strode into Leslie’s room just after noon the next day.

  “Why did you wait so damn long to tell me there was a problem with your going

  home?”

  “You didn’t need to rush over here,” Leslie said. “I just wanted you to know

  that I hadn’t been released yet.”

  Rachel had obviously come directly from court. Her immaculately cut slate gray

  jacket and skirt hinted at her statuesque Þ gure without being suggestive. Her

  lustrous copper hair ß amed around her shoulders, and her green eyes that could

  look so warm and seductive during sex snapped with impatience now. Despite

  Rachel’s annoyance, Leslie was glad to see her. Something as normal as

  Rachel’s quicksilver temper made the situation feel normal, and the fear that had

  been niggling at her all morning dissipated.

  “Why are you still here?” Rachel glanced at her watch and leaned down to kiss

  Leslie all in the same motion. “I’ve got twenty minutes, and then I need to be

  back in court.”

  “I seem to have this sensitive heart rate all of a sudden,” Leslie said lightly. “And

  apparently my blood pressure problem is a little out of order.”

  “Let’s cut to the chase, darling,” Rachel said, folding her arms and

  • 25 •

  RADCLY fFE

  canting one hip in a strikingly feminine yet unmistakably aggressive pose.

  “Details.”

  Leslie sighed. “I had an episode of atrial ß utter in the middle of the night that

  they weren’t able to control with medication. Finally at seven a.m. they

  cardioverted me.”

  For the Þ rst time, Rachel looked worried. “God. Why the hell didn’t you call

  me?”

  “Because I knew that you were in court this morning, and there was nothing you

  could have done here. They sedated me, and it was over in a second. I didn’t

  feel anything at all.” She smiled. “And I feel much better now. I’m just waiting

  for another cardiogram to conÞ rm that the rhythm has been corrected, and then

  I’m getting out of here.”

  “I’m not going to be able to wait.” Rachel closed her eyes and rubbed the

  bridge of her nose, sorting through alternatives. “Is it safe for you to take a

  cab?”

  “I’ll call a limo service.” Leslie took a deep breath. “That’s not what I needed to

  talk to you a
bout, Rach. I know this is a bad time, but there just didn’t seem to

  be a good time.”

  “What?” Rachel said sharply. “What else?”

  “I’m going to take a few weeks off.” Leslie looked away, then into Rachel’s

  eyes. “The doctors pretty much told me I have to. This stupid rhythm problem

  can be controlled by medication, but I don’t seem to be one of the ones where

  it’s easy. The episodes might recur for a while.

  It’s sort of unpredictable.”

  “So it could happen again,” Rachel said with understanding.

  Leslie winced. “Yes.”

  “Christ, Leslie. What a mess.”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  “Well, at least you’ve got plenty of vacation time stored up. I can’t remember

  the last time either of us went anywhere.”

  Neither could Leslie. In the nearly two years they’d been dating, or whatever it

  was they’d been doing, they’d never gone anywhere together for more than a

  long weekend. Even then, they both brought work and frequently spent hours in

  phone consultation.

  “What are you going to do?” Rachel asked curiously. The concept of days with

  nothing to do was not only foreign to her, it was vaguely discomforting.

  “It’s not exactly going to be a vacation. I talked to Rex Myers this morning,”

  Leslie said, referring to the managing partner at the Þ rm.

  • 26 •

  WHEN DREAMS TREMBLE

  At Rachel’s look of astonishment, Leslie held up a hand. “I had to tell him

  something. I explained that I needed to cut back on my hours for a short time

  because I just started a new medication that wasn’t agreeing with me. Which is

  deÞ nitely true.” Leslie laughed shakily. “We’ve got a regional ofÞ ce in Albany,

  which isn’t that far from my parents’ house in Bolton Landing. I’m going to stay

  at the lake while this gets sorted out and work out of that ofÞ ce as much as I

  can.”

  “You’re going home home?” Rachel shook her head. “I thought you didn’t get

  along with your parents. You haven’t been up there for one holiday since I’ve

  known you.”

  “It’s not that we don’t get along. We just don’t…always see eye to eye on

  things.”

  “I don’t get it. Why don’t you just stay here and work part time out of the main

  ofÞ ce?”

  It made sense. It made perfect sense. Leslie didn’t have words to explain how