But he was miles away, stranded in the farmhouse.
What if it caught fire and he couldn't get away? What if it began raining hard enough to cause a flash flood and he had no means of escaping high water? She tortured herself with hideous possibilities.
She must have slept, however, because when she was awakened by a smiling nurse, she was dreaming that Judd was chasing her with a foot-long hypodermic needle that was shaped like a tennis racquet, laughing maniacally and sneering that he'd teach her the consequences of stealing his car.
In a remarkably short time, she was prepped for surgery and, feeling like a pitifully abused pincushion, wheeled into the operating room.
Where last night the hours had seemed to drag by, now everything accelerated to a rapid clip that panicked her. The surgeon squeezed her hand reassuringly and smiled from behind his mask.
"Everything is going to be fine, Stevie. Just relax now. Take deep breaths and start counting backward from ten."
Ten. She wanted to halt things. Nine. She needed more time to think. Eight. She needed Judd. Seven…
She weighed ten thousand pounds and these morons were ordering her to scoot across the bed. "That's it, roll to your other side, Miss Corbett. No, don't pull on your IVs. Just relax your arm. That's fine. Right there. Your operation is over."
"Is her catheter in?"
"Yes."
"Isn't her hair pretty?"
"Hmm. Ever seen her play?"
"Are you kidding? I can't afford the tickets."
"I meant on TV. Miss Corbett, did you hear me? Your operation is all over."
Clatter and clank of metal. Jarring motion.
Light. So much light. Too bright. Telephones and activity and racket. Why didn't they just be still and quiet and let her sleep?
"Time to turn over again, Miss Corbett."
A groan. Her groan. No, don't make me move. A monster in green scrubs was insisting that she cough.
"Cough, Miss Corbett. Come on now. You've got to cough to clear your lungs." Let them stay clogged. "Miss Corbett. Cough."
She made a feeble attempt just so they'd leave her alone. Her reward was to have something very cold crammed between her thighs. "… to keep the swelling down." Someone jarred her bed again. Klutzes. They were all klutzes.
Her hand was tucked beneath the nurse's arm while she pumped the bulb of the blood pressure gauge. "That's good." The binding pressure around her arm was removed. "Miss Corbett, we've got to change your ice pack now."
"A drink?" Her mouth was sprouting cotton.
"You can have an ice chip."
A spoon, cold and hard, was crammed against her teeth, jarring her whole body. Precious ice.
She sucked greedily.
"There, just that one. Turn over."
"I can't."
"Sure you can. Cough for me again."
"No." 'Cough,' She did. "Good girl. And here's a fresh ice pack.'
Thanks for nothing. My thighs are already numb.
"… can't come in here!! "I'm in."
Stevie was aroused by the familiar voice, but opening her eyelids was nigh to impossible. Had they weighted them down with something, fifty-cent pieces like they did corpses in Western movies?
"Visitors are only allowed in Recovery every odd hour at ten till. That's the rule."
He told her what she could do with her rule and his suggestion wasn't very nice. "I'm going to see her whether you like it or not."
"I'm calling security."
"Stevie?"
"Judd?" she croaked.
"I'm here, baby."
A strong, warm hand clasped hers. She whispered,
"Are you going to strangle me?"
"There he is, officer. He's not supposed to come in until ten till the hour."
"Later, baby."
A soft whisk of his lips across her forehead then he was gone.
It was probably just another bizarre dream.
"You're sure?"
"Positive."
"You took out everything even potentially dangerous?"
"Everything."
The doctor noticed that his patient's eyes were open and that she was solemnly regarding him and her disheveled visitor.
"You're doing fine, Stevie," he told her with his bedside smile firmly in place. "I know the recovery room is rough, but they'll be moving you to your room soon. Are you up to having a visitor?" She nodded. The doctor touched Judd on the shoulder. "Remember, only ten minutes.
Don't get thrown out again."
Judd wasn't listening. His gaze was fixed on Stevie's face. He bent over her, careful not to dislodge any of the tubes. "I had to fight my way in here. I hope you appreciate it."
"How'd you find me?"
"I put Addison on your trail. I phoned him from a truck stop on the interstate. Ramsey wouldn't accept a collect call from me, the s.o.b., so I had to borrow change from the trucker I had hitched a ride with. He even felt so sorry for me that he bought me a cup of coffee, too. Turned out that he's based in Dallas and is an avid reader of my column. For his trouble, I promised him a season pass to the Mavericks' games."
She tried to follow the explanation, but it was far too complicated. "Addison?"
Smiling over her confusion, Judd said softly,
"I'll tell you about it later. There's almost enough material there for another novel."
She tried to moisten her lips with her tongue, but her mouth was still too dry even though she had been allowed a few more ice chips. "Judd, what about my operation?"
He drew a more serious expression, leaned in closer, and when he spoke, it was in a raspy, confidential voice. "I might have known you were just showing off, pulling one of your cuteisms for the benefit of the crowd. Much ado about nothing."
"What was?"
"Your tumors. All those headlines and hoopla over a bunch of benign tumors." His tone was chastising, but there was a telltale moisture in his eyes.
'Benign?" 'Harmless little critters. Every last one of them."
She closed her eyes. Tears leaked from them.
He brushed them away with the pad of his thumb. "They're sure?" she asked.
"If your gynecologist and the finest pathologist in Dallas know their stuff, it's a sure thing you're cured."
"Then they didn't have to do a hysterectomy?"
"If you discount your right ovary."
"They had to remove an ovary?"
He shrugged. "Inconsequential when you consider that everything else is intact and functioning.
Oh, and while they were there, they took out your appendix. I told them I didn't think you'd mind."
"Judd," she whispered, tears of gladness bathing her cheeks.
"Hey, stop blubbering or that bitch of a nurse will have me kicked out again for disturbing the peace."
"You shouldn't have come."
"Those proverbial wild horses couldn't have kept me away."
Stevie sniffed back her tears. "I'm sorry I stole your car."
"What the hell? It really belongs to the bank more than it does to me anyway. Are you feeling okay?"
Laughing was out of the question, but she smiled. "I've got needles in my arm and hand, metal clamps holding my belly together, I can't even tee-tee on my own and I'm straddling an ice pack. They make me cough every so often, though I'm sure it rips out all my stitches. In short, I feel terrible."
"Not as terrible as I felt before I found out where you had gone. If you ever run out on me without an explanation again, I'll tan your hide."
She ignored the edict. "Did you write today?"
"Write?" he asked incredulously. "Stevie, I've been stalking the corridors of this hospital like a wild man waiting for you to come out of the anesthesia."
"You should've been home writing. Chapter seven needs work."
"Yeah, I know. It's dragging in-" He broke off. His eyebrows formed a fearsome V. "How in hell do you know what chapter seven needs?"