“You can, Misty. I know this family. They will love you, and you will love them. It will be as if you’ve been with them your entire life.” Bryson turned her face toward his.
“But I’m a nobody, Bryson. They’re rich and powerful, and they have each other. I’m an intruder, and Damien is probably horrified I exist, embarrassed that I’m showing up.”
That would be the worst. If he looked at her with disgust, or pity, or coldness. If he looked through her instead of at her.
Pulling out the note from Damien’s wife, she read her words again.
My dearest Misty,
How excited I was to learn that a miracle was granted to us and you were found. We’ve searched for years, and it just goes to show that you were meant to be a part of our family. I know we mean nothing to you right now, and you’re probably feeling confused, but please come and visit us — give us a chance to know you, and give yourself a chance to know us. I look forward to meeting you.
Sierra
Misty rubbed her thumb over the words again and again, some of the ink smeared from the tears she’d cried while reading it, tears she hadn’t even noticed falling until she saw the blots on the fancy paper.
Sierra sounded like a lovely woman, at least from her letter, but that didn’t mean that Damien wanted to know her. It only meant that he’d married someone fantastic. Misty was worried though, that Damien wouldn’t want this. After all, his wife had been the one to write to Misty — the letter hadn’t come from her brother.
She didn’t want to be the source of anything negative, of problems between Damien and his wife. She’d caused others enough turmoil during her miserable life.
Existing in the streets and fighting for everything had taught her at a young age how to survive, but it hadn’t shown her how to live, and it certainly hadn’t taught her how to trust. So, here she was, about to meet her brother’s larger-than-life family. What if she ended up throwing up on their expensive shoes?
That would certainly make a wonderful first impression.
As the plane pulled up to the gate, she felt her vision blur. This wasn’t good.
“Misty!”
Bryson’s voice was coming to her from far away. Maybe it was good. Maybe she would just sleep for a while. Then, when she woke up, this would all have been a dream. Her entire life would turn out to have been a dream, and she wasn’t really an orphan, had never been with Jesse, and wasn’t flying to meet American royalty.
But then, she also wouldn’t have met Bryson…
Chapter Seventeen
“…anxiety attack. Her eyes are fluttering. Ma’am, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes? That’s good. Look at me. Good. Try to focus on me. No. Don’t shut your eyes again. Magnolia, open your eyes!”
Magnolia? Who was Magnolia? They were shaking her as they spoke, but she didn’t recognize the name. Who was this person?
Misty clawed her way through the dark tunnel, then wished she hadn’t. A bright light was shining in her eyes, and several people were standing around her. What was going on?
Where was she?
Her heart began racing as she tried to catch her breath. Tried. She couldn’t breathe.
“Get oxygen on her now!”
Something was placed over her mouth and her eyes shot open again as she reached up, clawing to get whatever was trying to suffocate her away from her mouth.
“It’s okay, Magnolia,” Bryson said. “The paramedics are trying to help you.” His voice was tense but low as he tried to be reassuring. If he hadn’t been panicked, it might have worked.
Oh, Magnolia! Her fake identity. So confusing on top of all the other confusion she was feeling. What if she messed this up? What if she made a mistake and then somehow Jesse found her because of it? They were in Seattle, though, weren’t they? That was a long way away from him.
Not too far away, actually — only a single state. She was too rattled to think clearly.
She turned toward Bryson, caught his face in her vision, and was finally able to make her lungs work. He was her anchor in this tempest of uncertainties. He was what she would hold on to.
“That’s good, ma’am,” the paramedic said. “Don’t try to talk. We’re going to move you to the ambulance now.”
Misty felt herself being lifted, and realized she was on some sort of board.
“I’m staying with her,” she heard Bryson insist, and she hoped they allowed him to. They’d have to if they didn’t want her passing out again. He was the only thing giving her some vestige of calm.
What had happened?
When they got her locked into the ambulance, she searched for Bryson again, and then he was there, stretching his hand out and taking hers.
“I’m so sorry, Magnolia. We pushed this too fast. We shouldn’t have come here yet. This is too soon.”
She wanted to answer him, but there was a mask over her mouth. Her frustration made her heart accelerate again, causing the monitors to emit loud beeps.
“You need to calm down, ma’am. We’re only about five minutes from the ER now.” The same paramedic as before was talking quietly and reassuringly to her.
He was good at his job, she thought. He had a soothing voice, and it helped.
The ambulance stopped and the back doors were thrust open.
As they wheeled her in, someone rattled off: “We have a twenty-nine year old female, appears to be an anxiety attack, no known medical conditions or allergies. She’s suffering from shortness of breath and high blood pressure, and she’s been conscious for thirteen minutes. Was unconscious for six minutes.”
“Sir, can you fill these out?”
“Give them to me, but I’m staying with her,” Bryson said, sticking resolutely by her side.
She was wheeled into a room, transferred to a bed, and then a doctor was taking her vital signs, checking her eyes, and calling out orders.
Words and phrases like dehydrated, elevated heart rate, and low oxygen were thrown out, but Misty ignored them, her eyes staying on Bryson. She would be fine if he remained with her.
Soon, she was hooked up to an I.V. and the room emptied; she was now alone with Bryson. After about fifteen minutes, her breathing became normal, her heart rate slowed, and she realized what had happened.
Angry tears stung her eyes. What a fool she was. She’d been so nervous over the visit, she hadn’t eaten or drunk a thing in two days. She’d had trouble sleeping, and she’d been a mess. She couldn’t meet her new family like this. How could they help but think she was too much work to bother with?