All Remington could do was wonder what Laura was doing and thinking now. She was probably furious that he hadn't shown up, and he worried what she might do in that state. Anger tended to make her reckless. Of course, that was if she had even been there at all.
"Excuse? Mr. Chalmers?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. What did you ask?"
"I need the name of your next of kin."
"Daniel Chalmers," he said, after a moment's hesitation, giving her the address and telephone number.
"Relationship?"
This time, there was no hesitation. "Father."
The petite woman's green eyes lifted to look at him. "Then- you're not married."
"No," he confirmed, certain that the news of his single status would spread through the hospital like wildfire.
Dr. Howell, who had examined him, returned, carrying an envelope which no doubt contained the x-rays he'd ordered. "Thank you, Millie," he said pointedly. "You can get the rest of Mr. Chalmers' particulars later."
"Thank you," Remington said with a sigh of relief as the door closed behind her.
"I should warn you that the single nurses are already lining up for duty on your ward."
Remington managed a grin. "I'll manage." He indicated the envelope. "So. How bad is it?"
"Not as bad as it first appeared, but it's likely to be a long road back."
"How so?"
"I'll run some more tests, of course, but from the x-rays there doesn't seem to be any permanent damage to the spinal column."
"Then why can't I move my legs?"
"Trauma," Dr. Howell told him. "There are several possible reasons. I just- we'll need to wait for the other tests to be sure. I've called a specialist in. He'll be here tomorrow."
"Is there any reason why I can't go back to London? See a doctor there?"
"Mr. Chalmers, until we finish the tests, we've no way of knowing what such a trip would do. It might aggravate the injury to the point that you would never walk again. Let's see what happens with those tests, okay? If it's your family you're worried about- you're welcome to call and let them know where you are. We'll have you in a room soon, but I can have Millie or one of the other nurses bring a phone in here for you."
"Thank you."
His first call was to George, the doorman at the Rossmore Arms, asking him to put his bags into the store room until someone came to get them. "And George, if Miss Holt or Miss Krebs should ask- you haven't heard from me. I'll make it worth your while." He grinned at the door man's response, then hung up and dialed Daniel's number. "Daniel? Daniel, I-."
"Harry. I've been sitting here, worrying. Did you meet Laura?"
"As a matter of fact, no. I didn't. Has she or Mildred called?"
He knew Daniel was frowning. "No. Harry, what's happened?"
"I had a bit of an accident on the way to meet her. I'm in the hospital."
"Hospital?!"
"Calm down, Daniel. I just wanted to make sure that if either of them call, you don't know where I am- or even if I made the flight to Los Angeles."
"What's going on, Harry?"
"I was hit by a car," he explained. "I'm fine, really, except I -can't seem to move my legs."
"Oh dear god."
Remington listened closely for any sign of physical distress on the other end, then continued when he heard none. "The doctors think it's probably only temporary. But they won't know for certain until they run some more tests."
"You haven't called Laura," Daniel realized at last.
"No. Nor do I intend to. I don't want her to know about this, Daniel." He said firmly, expecting an argument, that Daniel would tell him to call Laura. But he didn't.
"Where are you?" he asked instead.
"Sisters Of Mercy Hospital."
"I'll be there as soon as I can make a reservation."
"What about your appointment with Dr. Lehman?"
"I'll postpone it," Daniel began.
"No, you won't. He's bee more promising than anyone else so far."
"Then I'll leave for Los Angeles after I see him," Daniel told him. "Don't argue with me about this, Harry. If you do, I'll call Laura and tell her where you are."
Remington took a deep breath. "Very well, Daniel. I'll see you tomorrow. Oh. You might want to know that I didn't give them Remington Steele's name when they brought me in here."
"What name did you give them?"
"My real one, actually," Remington informed him. "Tomorrow, Daniel." He hung up before Daniel could respond.
As he lay there, he picked up the telephone once more and dialed another number. "Remington Steele Investigations."
He froze. Laura. This was crazy. He shouldn't have called. He didn't have the right. Not now. Not yet.
"Hello? Can I help you?"
Remington hung up the phone quickly, and placed a shaking hand over his face.
"Dr. Howell was right about their not being any permanent damage, Mr. Chalmers," Dr. Carstairs, the specialist, informed him just after noon the next day.
"Then why can't I use my legs?" Remington asked again. He was getting more than a little tired of having to ask that particular question.
Carstairs, a middle aged man whose hair was mostly gone except for a ring of white around the sides and back, sighed, lifting the results from one of the tests toward the light. "The problem is here. These two vertebrae are putting pressure on the spinal cord. It's effectively cut off the flow of signals from your brain to your legs."
"So what can be done to correct it?"
"Well, we have two options. The first is to simply wait. Allow things to right themselves on their own."
"And how long will that take?"
"Each case is different, difficult to predict. I've seen similar cases of men in your physical condition, age bracket, who are back on their feet anywhere from six months to a year."
Remington frowned. "And the second option?"
"A surgical procedure in which we go in and physically relieve the pressure. If things go well, you could be walking within a week."
"If things go well, you said, doctor?" Daniel asked, coming into the room.
Dr. Carstairs turned to look at the new arrival, then at Remington. "Dr. Carstairs, Daniel Chalmers."
The men shook hands. "To answer your question, Mr. Chalmers, as with any surgery, there's a risk. One wrong move in that area, the paralysis could become permanent- or the patient might never wake up."
"And what are the odds of that happening?" Daniel asked before Remington could speak.
"Fifty- fifty, I'd say. We could go in and find that there was damage that didn't show up on the tests."
"And if he decides against surgery?"
"As I was just telling him, recovery could take anywhere from six months to a year." He paused. "I don't usually recommend surgery. But considering the fact that Mr. Chalmers is in good condition, I think it's a viable option. The longer he goes without using his legs, the more difficult it will be for him to regain the use of them." He picked up the folder he'd brought in. "I'll leave the two of you to discuss it."
"There's no need, doctor," Remington said. "Schedule the surgery."
"Harry," Daniel protested.
"It's my decision, Daniel."
Carstairs looked from father to son. "Tell you what, Mr. Chalmers," he said to Remington. "Sleep on it tonight. If you still want the surgery tomorrow morning, I'll schedule it. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Chalmers," he said to Daniel before leaving the room.
"I really think you need to consider this carefully, Harry."
"Daniel, I didn't agree to your coming here to interfere."
"No. The only reason you agreed to my coming here was because I threatened to call Laura. I'm more than a little inclined to call her anyway."
"No," Remington said, preventing Daniel from picking up the phone with a hand on his arm. "I won't go to her as a cripple, Daniel. The only way I'll see her again is on my own two feet."
"You're a stubborn man, Harry."
"It think it's an inherited trait," Remington pointed out, causing Daniel to look at him again. "What did Dr. Lehman have to say?"
"He started a new medication. And he gave me the name of a doctor here in Los Angeles who's supposed to be one of the best in the field." Remington gave him a look. "I'll make an appointment, I promise. Dr. Lehman DID say that I should avoid any extra worry, though."
"It won't work, Daniel. I'm having the surgery. And I want your word that you won't call Laura."
"My word," Daniel repeated. "And if I refuse?"
"Then you might as well turn around and go back to London right now, and forget that you ever knew anyone named Harry." For a moment, he almost regretted those words, as Daniel paled slightly.
"I won't call Laura, Harry," he said at last. His gaze fell. "But I wouldn't blame you for cutting me out of your life. It's no less than I deserve, after all I've done."
"Suppose you tell me exactly what it is that you've done?" Remington said, suddenly wanting to get all of this out in to the open. With the surgery looming over his head, he didn't want to leave this unfinished.
"I'm not sure where to start."
"Why don't you start by telling me why you lied to me all these years? Why you had Patrick O'Rourke send me that watch? Why you let me go to the Earl when you KNEW what he was going to say?"
"I didn't," Daniel insisted. "Not really. I had no idea he knew what colour his son's eyes were-."
"Are you telling me that if he hadn't known- if he'd accepted me as Sean James, you wouldn't have said anything?"
"The Earl was the father you deserved, Harry. Not some two-bit con who left you to grow up on the street for the first fourteen years of your life. No matter what I've done for you since- nothing can make up for that. You said that yourself right after we met, remember? Back then, you'd built up such a hatred toward your father that I couldn't be certain of your reaction had I told you the truth." Remington remained quiet as he considered Daniel's words. He was right. In those days, he'd been as likely to stick a knife into anyone who claimed to be his father as to turn and run as far and as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
"But once you knew that I WANTED to find my father, why not tell me then?"
"Oh, you wanted to find your father, yes. But not me, Harry. I was the last person you expected to be your father."
"Then why have Patrick O'Rourke send me that bloody watch?" Remington asked.
"I didn't," Daniel said with a deep sigh. "That was all a mistake."
"A mistake?"
"I'd known Patrick for years. He bounced back and forth between London and Ireland, in and out of the life. When I caught up with him in 1952, he was working in a pub near a factory owned by Liam Harrison. Rose's father."
Remington couldn't stop himself from asking the question. "Tell me about her. About- Rose."
Daniel's eyes softened as he began talking . . .
To Be Continued . . .