Patient Nurse

by Diana Palmer

  He threw up his hands, muttering something in Spanish about trying to argue with walls.

  “I am not a wall,” she snapped back, hands on her hips.

  Despite his anger, his eyes twinkled at her spirit. She’d been like a shadow of herself when she was so ill, and he’d worried himself sick about leaving her there even with Miss Plimm. But now, she had good color, her heart was working almost as good as new—possibly better—and she was certainly able to work, at least part-time. He wished he had a better excuse to keep her here. He didn’t know how he was going to bear living in the apartment alone.

  “You can’t take Mosquito with you,” he said finally, searching for an argument that would stop her from leaving. He faced her with his hands deep in his pockets. “She’ll grieve.”

  “Nonsense,” she said without any real conviction. She was going to grieve, too, for the cat but mostly for Ramon. But she had to be sure that what he felt for her wasn’t pity. She couldn’t ever know at this close range. She wanted them both to step back and be objective. The time they’d spent together might have blinded Ramon to his true feelings.

  His lean face had an expression that was harder than she’d seen in years. “You aren’t going to be happy alone,” he said angrily.

  She didn’t deny it. What would have been the point? She simply looked at him, with eyes that expected pain. “You’ve learned a lot of things about the past that you didn’t know before,” she began hesitantly. “It was inevitable that you might feel some guilt. And as you said yourself, you’ve never really had anyone to take care of.”

  His chin lifted. “In other words, you think that proximity has blinded me to my own feelings.”

  She nodded.

  He drew in a long, slow breath. “I see.”

  “I’m more grateful than I can say that you’ve taken such wonderful care of me,” she told him. “But we both know that you’d have been just as kind to a total stranger. It’s the way you are.”

  “You flatter me. And you denigrate your own worth,” he added. “Perhaps I’ve caused you to expect so little from life. I’ve made you bitter.”

  His accent was more noticeable, as if he found it difficult to say these things. He looked so utterly defeated that he made her feel guilty.

  “I’m not bitter anymore,” she said quietly. “Aunt Mary and Uncle Hal have been wonderful to me. I’ll enjoy visiting them now.”

  “Don’t let them take you out of the country,” he said firmly. “It’s too soon.”

  “Your partner said it would be fine!” she said, exasperated.

  “Why are you listening to him?” he demanded. “What does he know about your condition? I operated on you!”

  His eyes were flashing like black lightning. He fascinated her in this mood.

  “You’ll be a case when your children are old enough to leave home,” she observed dryly.

  “How can I have children? You’re leaving me!”

  Her heart jumped, but she stood firm. “Just give it time,” she said soothingly. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Fine!” he scoffed. He ran a hand through his thick black hair. “Who’ll be here when I need to talk? Who’ll comfort me when I lose patients?”

  It was hard to stand on her resolve, but she had to. She touched his arm gently. “I’m as close as the telephone,” she promised. “You can call whenever you like. You’re my friend now,” she added without quite meeting his gaze. “Friends talk to each other.”

  He didn’t speak for a minute. His fingers touched her face lightly and he seemed not to breathe as he bent to brush his mouth tenderly over her own.

  “You want to be my friend? Then shoot me,” he whispered against her lips. “It would be an act of kindness.”

  “Don’t be absurd. I could never hurt you.”

  “What do you call walking out of my life?” he demanded.

  “Self-preservation,” she murmured.

  His arms slid around her and he drew her as close as he dared, mindful of the surgery and the soreness that remained despite the healing of her breastbone.

  His cheek pressed against hers and he held her, bending over her in the silence of the apartment. She gave in to him, hungry for the contact even as she knew she was making the right decision by leaving the apartment.

  Inevitably his mouth slid down to possess hers in a light, soft kiss that grew deeper and more insistent by the second. She heard his deep, harsh groan instants before his tongue thrust deep into her mouth and he lifted her completely off the floor in his arms.

  She couldn’t resist him. Her arms went around his neck and she gave back the kiss with the same intensity that his passion demanded.

  When she felt the tremor work its way through him, she withdrew just a breath and felt his mouth cling before it was able to lift.

  He was breathing heavily. The eyes that looked into hers from mere inches away were black and hungry.

  “If I were less scrupulous,” he said huskily, “I would carry you to bed and love you until you begged to stay with me. But you are still una virgen, yes?”

  “Yes,” she whispered brokenly.

  The shudder grew worse. He rested his forehead against hers, holding her gently to his chest, completely off the floor. “And this sweet condition is because of me, also, yes?” he whispered.

  She bit her lip. “You are conceited.”

  “I’m starving,” he breathed into her mouth as he kissed it yet again. “Starving to be loved, to be wanted, to be needed, to be comforted…you show me heaven and then consign me to hell, for the sake of a job!”

  “Oh, no, not for that,” she said quickly, touching his mouth, his cheek, his long, arrogant nose. “Not for a job. I love you!”

  “¡Querida!” he groaned, and kissed her with aching hunger, drowning in the soft, sweet words that he’d never dared hope to hear her say to him after all the pain he’d given her.

  She dragged her mouth from under his and pressed it into his hot throat, clinging to him, unmindful of any discomfort where the incision was. “You have to let me go,” she whispered miserably.

  “Why?”

  She loved the deep, tender voice so close at her ear. “So that you’ll know how you feel.”

  There was a slight pause, a hesitation. He lifted his head and looked into her soft, sad eyes for a long time. “How I feel?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  His breath sighed out slowly. “How can you not know?” he asked heavily, searching her face. “Isadora knew. She taunted me with it. I told you this.”

  “You told me that she accused you of being obsessed with me,” she agreed. “Physically.”

  He laughed softly. “Physically?” His eyes slid over her face and down to her body in his arms and back up again. “There is a song, Noreen,” he said tenderly. “It was nominated for an Academy Award. I can’t sing, enamorada, but the words say that when a man loves a woman, really loves her, he can see his unborn children in her eyes.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, shaken not only by the poignant words, but by the way he said them.

  “To my shame, I saw my sons in your eyes the day I found you in the kitchen at your aunt’s house,” he whispered, watching her face color. “And I was married. What a living hell it was, to know such a sin and be unable to repent it.” His eyes closed. “I paid for it and made you pay for it. And we are both still paying for it.”

  She didn’t think she could breathe ever again. She stared at him, her eyes like saucers.

  His eyes opened, looking straight into hers. Nothing was hidden, nothing was concealed. His heart was in them.

  “You wanted to marry me because you loved me?” she asked in a husky voice.

  “Yes,” he said simply. His eyes adored her face. “I will love you forever. With my heart, my soul, my very life.”

  She felt the first tear before it cascaded down her pale cheek. It was followed by another, and another, silent and poignant.

  “No,” he whispered, kissin
g them away. “No. Hush, now. Don’t cry. If you want to leave so badly, I won’t stop you. But we must see each other, at least…Noreen!”

  Her arms were around his neck so tightly that he was afraid she was going to hurt herself. She clung, crying in agonized shudders, completely at the mercy of her emotions.

  “Enamorada,” he breathed piteously, and his lips pressed soft, tender kisses on her wet face. “Ah, don’t cry. Don’t. I can’t bear to hear you cry like this.”

  “I thought you hated me,” she sobbed.

  “Yes. I had to let you think so. It would have been dishonorable to admit such feelings. I was married. In my faith, marriage is for life.”

  “I know.” She rubbed her wet cheek against his. “That’s why I was going to leave. I didn’t want you to be stuck with me after you came to your senses. I thought you only pitied me.”

  He held her close and his chest rose in a great sigh. “I loved you,” he said. “I meant every word I said. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want children with you.”

  “I want them with you, too,” she confessed. “I was trying to be noble.”

  “Nobility is best left to saints,” he said pointedly. He lifted his head and looked into her wet eyes. “I think we should be married as soon as possible,” he said.

  “Do you?”

  He nodded. “You have this tendency to run away,” he said, smiling. “Perhaps if you marry me, you will be content to stay at home.”

  Her fingers toyed with the thick hair at his nape. “I could do relief work,” she murmured.

  He studied her closely. “Until the babies come?”

  She smiled shyly. “Until then. And after they start school. I do like my job.”

  “You do it very well.”

  “You didn’t always think so,” she reminded him.

  He made a face at her. “Drag up my ghosts to haunt me,” he accused.

  She kissed his firm mouth gently. “Sorry.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not so easily placated as that,” he murmured, bending to her lips. “I have to be appeased.”

  “Like this?” she whispered, and kissed him with slow, insistent pleasure.

  He returned the kiss with equal intensity until they were both shaken.

  He lifted his head. “My heart, this kissing is a dangerous thing.” He searched her eyes. “We will be married in church,” he said. “And you will wear a white gown, and a veil. And afterward, we will have a wedding night.”

  She colored delicately. “Most people think we already have, or so I’ve heard from Brad.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Has he been to visit again?”

  She grinned. “Just for a few minutes. And before you jump to conclusions, he’s very much in love with someone at the hospital. Not me,” she added before he could speak. “We’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been.”

  “You can be friends from a safe distance from now on,” he said firmly.

  “Why, you’re jealous,” she accused.

  “Very.” He kissed her. “And also very tired.” He chuckled, placing her back on her feet with a grimace. “Even this small weight grows heavy with the passage of time. But I promise to carry you over the threshhold after we are married.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she said, smiling with her whole heart.

  He touched her face gently, savoring the love in her eyes. “I have dreamed of holding you in the darkness, in my arms. The reality of it is more than I dared hope for.” He traced her lips. “And such a gift you bring to the marriage bed. I hope to be worthy of it.”

  She hid her face against his chest, embarrassed despite her years as a nurse.

  He smoothed her back under his lean hands. “You aren’t afraid?”

  “No,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “I adore you.”

  “And I, you.” He kissed her hair.

  Their marriage was announced and planned, and all the things that had worried Noreen vanished in the euphoria of loving and being loved. Everything fell into place. The greatest surprise was the pleasure the news gave to Noreen’s aunt and uncle. Aunt Mary immediately took over the preparations and planning, and by the end of the week, she had it all arranged, right down to the invitations and the cake and the reception. Noreen was in awe of her ability to organize.

  Of course, there was no question of Noreen going back to work now. Her whole life seemed to suddenly center around fittings for her wedding gown and sending out invitations. She and her aunt grew close during this time, because Ramon had insisted that she move into her aunt and uncle’s home now that they were engaged. He wanted, he told her, no improprieties at all to shadow their married lives, and no gossip. This amused everyone who knew him, but no one more than Noreen herself.

  He carried that decision to extremes, refusing to touch her at all until the vows were spoken. He was far more rigid in his views than she’d imagined, but his tenderness with her was an everlasting source of pleasure and delight.

  She blossomed in their new relationship, and so did he. The nurses teased him when he made rounds, although he noticed that Brad Donaldson was a little hesitant about approaching him once he knew Ramon and Noreen were engaged. That amused him. All the same, it was just as well that the man had stopped coming to visit Noreen. Ramon was a tolerant man, but not when it came to the woman he loved. Her friends from now on, he assured himself, were going to be female, not male.

  Ramon took Noreen out to dinner several times before the wedding, always meticulously correct in his behavior. But in his eyes smoldered such fires that she became a little wary of him.

  The night before their wedding, he put an arm across her as she started to open the car door in her aunt’s driveway.

  “You become more nervous of me by the day,” he said softly. He eased his long fingers in between hers. “Tell me why.”

  She leaned against him and his arm enfolded her to his chest. “I don’t know much about men,” she confessed. “Is it going to be all right? I mean, you look at me as if you could eat me alive, and I’m not sure I’ll be enough for you.”

  He chuckled softly. “You’ll be enough,” he assured her. “But I confess I was having fears of my own, about you.”

  She looked up. “About me?”

  “Innocence is daunting to me,” he told her gently. “Your body will have to be hungry enough for mine that I won’t hurt you.”

  She nuzzled her face against him. “It will be. That isn’t what worries me at all.”

  “Ah, here we have it,” he murmured against her temple. “You think I have had a succession of women in my life, hmm?”

  “You were in your early thirties when you married Isadora.”

  He traced her cheek and then tugged her chin up to make her look at him. “I was faithful to my wife. After she died, there was no one.” He touched her face with loving hands. “And after you, there will never be another.”

  She linked her arms around his neck and lay against him with pure delight. “We’ll live happily ever after,” she murmured.

  “A myth,” he whispered. “But if two people work at a marriage, it lasts.”

  “Ours will last forever,” she told him.

  He nodded solemnly. “Yes. I think it will.”

  She kissed him tenderly, to find him rigidly controlled as he put her away from him. “Don’t you like kissing me anymore?” she asked.

  He laughed tautly. “I like it too much. Tomorrow night, you can reasonably expect kisses, and much more.”

  “I like the ‘much more’ part very much,” she whispered.

  He chuckled. “So do I. And now, good night!”

  “Good night.” She gave him one long, last look and got out of the car.

  Chapter Eleven

  The wedding was an event, even though it wasn’t a huge social one. Ramon and Noreen spoke their vows in front of a priest. In attendance were Ramon and Noreen’s colleagues and friends from the hospital, and Noreen’s aunt and uncle. Afterward, there
was a small, but delightful reception at the Kensington’s home.

  Noreen went into the bedroom that had been hers to freshen up and put on her neat suit, in which she would travel with Ramon to Charleston, South Carolina, for a brief honeymoon. She stared at her face in the mirror, seeing nothing remarkable about its familiar contours. But the eyes, the big gray eyes, were full of joy.

  She gave a thought to poor Isadora, who had never really known happiness. It was a shame that her life had been ended so abruptly, so tragically. Noreen thought that she would always feel some small guilt about Isadora’s loss. If only she’d been able to make the doctor understand how desperately ill her cousin was, ask him to send an ambulance. But that wasn’t to be. Somehow, she had to live with the memory and get past it, so that her own life with Ramon could begin in truth.

  The door opened behind her and Mary Kensington came in, dressed in a very becoming pale blue suit with a pink silk shell beneath it. She smiled at her niece.

  “Can I help?” she asked.

  Noreen shook her head. She turned from the mirror. “I was thinking about Isadora,” she said sadly.

  Mary’s eyes clouded, but only for an instant. “Noreen, none of us can change the past,” she said quietly. “As I grow older, I’m more convinced than ever that things happen the way they’re meant to. We all failed Isadora. Your uncle and I should never have gone off and left you by yourself to look after her. Neither should Ramon. Yours is the very least of the blame, because you could have died that night trying to take care of her. None of us were aware of how desperately ill you were. I hope you know that no one blames you in the least anymore.” Her face was solemn. “I wish I could tell you how bitterly your uncle and I regret the way we treated you at Isadora’s funeral. I’m sure Ramon feels exactly the same.”

  “You didn’t know,” she replied.

  Mary smiled sadly. “I didn’t know a lot of things. I used you shamelessly over the years. You should have made me see how selfish I was, instead of accepting meekly whatever responsibility I placed on your shoulders.”