Chapter Four
Refreshed after a nap and a long, hot shower, Catherine dressed in her favorite black jeans, slid her feet into thick socks and her favorite pair of cowboy boots and pulled on a forest green sweater, one fitting her curves and flattering her complexion. She loved the way the boots wrapped around her feet, the most comfortable footwear she owned. Then she took time to put on her make-up with precise care, far different than her normal work routine when she applied just basic cosmetics. Instead of twisting her hair up into a bun or clipping it on top of her head she let it hang free, flowing past her shoulders with abandon. Although it wouldn’t be the first time Connor saw her out of scrubs, it marked the first time since he kissed her so she wanted to look pretty. She spritzed on just a little perfume and headed out the door, coat and purse in hand.
She slipped into the hospital through the emergency room exit and rode the elevator up to the floor. Catherine slowed her walk down as she entered Connor’s room, casual and easy. She entered to find him back in bed, his supper tray before him. He picked at it with a fork, eyeing it with suspicion, obviously unhappy. Without glancing up, he said, “If this is supper, you can take it away before I puke all over it.”
“I guess you don’t like what they’re serving,” Catherine said, “Or do you feel sick?”
His dark glower receded as he smiled at the sound of her voice. He looked up and said, “I actually am hungry but I don’t want this mess.”
She glanced down at the tray and noted the items, baked fish with some kind of rice on the side with peas, Jell-O with fruit, a piece of bread with a container of margarine, and pudding. It looked bland, she thought, but not inedible, not delicious either. “Did you try it?”
Connor mimed a shudder. “No. I don’t think I want to taste it. Looking at it is bad enough.”
“Do you want something from the vending machine?”
He curled his lip. “I don’t think so. Don’t they have a cafeteria in this place?”
“They do, downstairs, but it closes at three in the afternoon. You need to eat something, Connor.”
“I’d love to have something tasting good,” he said, looking at her as she settled onto the bed as if he saw her for the first time. “You look fantastic.”
“Thanks,” she said, glad he noticed and liked what he saw. “What do you want to eat, then?”
“I don’t suppose you’d think about bringing me a half pound burger from somewhere or a sausage pizza?” he asked, his eyes fastened on hers as if he could hypnotize her to do his will. “I’ve got money or I did. I had a wallet and stuff in my jeans. Where are my clothes, anyway?”
“I think they had to cut them off of you to treat you,” Catherine said. “I imagine your wallet and other things were tucked away for safekeeping. Don’t worry about the money – I’ll buy you something and you can owe me. Are you sure you’re up to this kind of food?”
He laughed, “My body may be mangled but my stomach’s fine, just empty.”
“All right. I’ll buy you a cheeseburger if you want.”
“Make it a double one with everything,” Connor said.
“Do you want fries with that?” Catherine quipped and he snickered.
“No, just a big sloppy burger with everything,” he said. “But first, there’s something you haven’t done.”
“What’s that?”
“Kiss me,” he said, those dark eyes steady like a star in the night sky. Their pull drew her in like the tide on a beach, irresistible and powerful. Catherine couldn’t resist so she maneuvered in and put her mouth over his. As if weighted with magnets her lips attached to his and he kissed her back, strong for a man in the hospital. The deep mouth caress made her tingle and her body revved, answering the intensity with the same. She broke away first, still skittish about being caught.
“Is that better?” she asked.
“A lot,” Connor said, “I’ll be here when you get back but hurry or I might starve.”
Catherine laughed. “I doubt it.”
When she returned with a bag from one of the fast food places out on Neosho Boulevard in hand, she found him back in the chair. He sniffed at the aroma wafting out of the sack when she opened it and sighed with happiness when she handed him his double cheeseburger.
“Thank you,” he said, appreciative. “It smells so good.”
She opened her single burger. “Go slow, Connor. You haven’t eaten much yet and I don’t want to make you sick.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said as he bit into the thick burger. He devoured it but with such slow precision Catherine found no fault. She finished hers at the same pace and removed the trash then sat back on the edge of the bed since he had the sole chair.
“That was awesome,” Connor said, looking somnolent after his meal. “I think it made me sleepy, though.”
Always a nurse, she asked, “Would you like to go back to bed?”
He turned his head so he could face her. “I don’t unless you want to climb in with me.”
All of sudden, he evoked the past, revived memories that sent a fever racing through her blood with warp speed. Whether he kidded or meant it, Catherine’s heart race increased, so much she was glad she wasn’t hooked to any monitors. Her breath caught somewhere between lungs and throat and then he winked.
“Scared you, didn’t I?” Connor said, laughter enriching his voice. “I’d love to just cuddle with you but somehow I figure they wouldn’t like it here.”
“No, I don’t think they would. You got my attention, though.”
“Did I really?” One minute he seemed tough, the next vulnerable and she couldn’t read him, decide which was real or if both were.
“Oh, you do,” Catherine said. “But you might want to lose the Foley first, heal a bit more and get some strength back before you invite me into bed, here or anywhere.”
He shifted in the chair, winced and with a wry smile replied, “Point taken, lady. So if we can’t go to bed, what are we going to do?”
Somehow she doubted they were going to play checkers but she laughed. “Tell me what’d you be doing right now if you were back home and not in the hospital.”
“What time is it?”
She checked her watch. “It’s almost seven.”
Connor sighed. “I’d be at my club and the early crowd would be there. We’d be serving drinks half price right up until seven and then we’d have an hour before the band, if we had one tonight. If not, I’d tend a little bar, keep an eye on everything, stroll through the place doing a meet and greet and keep everything rolling.”
“You do all that?”
“Yeah, I do most of the time.”
“Don’t you have any employees? You make it sound like a one-man operation.”
He chuckled. “It was when I started the place but I’ve got a couple, a guy named Larry who tends bar, Lupe, who works in the kitchen, and King, my bouncer. They handle a lot. Then I have three waitresses, Trixie, Lisa, and Jen.”
Catherine counted six, four of which were women. Green jealousy reared up, ugly and potent but in a mild tone she asked, “Are they running things while you’re gone?”
“I hope the hell they are,” he said, and then dismay clouded his face. “I hadn’t thought about it. How many days have I been here? Two?”
“This is the evening of the third full day,” she told him. “If you feel up to calling, I’ll loan you my cell phone.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Maybe I should call up there tomorrow. Tonight, they’ll be busy or they should be. What day of the week is it, anyway?”
“This is Tuesday.”
Connor nodded. “They should be able to handle it. I bet they wonder why I haven’t called by now – I planned to check in every day. Did you cancel my reservation or did I just dream you were going to do that?”
“I haven’t,” she said, “It slipped my mind but I can do it whenever you want.”
His eyelids drooped to half mast. “I’m tired tonight. Maybe you can ta
ke care of it tomorrow.”
“Okay. Now, seriously, do you want to lie back down? I can help you crawl back in bed without tangling the IV lines and the Foley cath.”
“Maybe in a few minutes,” he said. “I want to get my strength back and get out of here as soon as I can.”
Fatigue touched his face but under it she saw determination and stubborn will. On impulse Catherine rose from her seat on the bed and came behind the chair. She plucked a comb from her purse and fluffed out his shoulder length hair. “Then will you let me comb your hair? It’s a mess.”
“Yeah,” he said soft-voiced. “I’d like it.”
She laughed. “It may hurt – some of it is tangled. I’ll try to be gentle.”
She ran the comb through his hair, lank now from his hospital stay but she thought under normal circumstances it would be just as soft and thick as she remembered. Catherine worked the knots out of his locks with careful hands and he grunted with pleasure more than once.
“Don’t quit,” he said, eyes shut. “That feels nice.”
“Good.” Catherine teased the comb through his hair again. “Tomorrow maybe you can get a shave.”
“Maybe I should just let you shave it all,” he said.
A frisson rippled down her spine, delicious and cold as she imagined how he might look without facial hair. Curiosity warred with an inner appreciation of his moustache and beard which gave him an exotic flair and desire to restore him to the clean shaven look she recalled.
“It’s your call,” Catherine said and he grinned.
“My people at the club would crap,” Connor laughed, “It itches so I think I’ll let you shave it all. They won’t recognize me.”
But I did whiskers and all.
“I’ll do it if you want,” Catherine told him, “I’ll bathe you too.”
His eyes sparkled like uncorked champagne. “That could be interesting.”
“It might be,” she teased, “You’ll feel better afterward, though. You look tired, Connor. Are you ready to get back in bed?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
Catherine rested her hands on top of his shoulders, a familiar gesture. “All right but let me get the bed all smoothed out for you first.”
She did and maneuvered all his lines into one bunch. “Hold these”
Connor clutched them in one fist as she assisted him, one step at a time from his seated position upright and then into bed. She eased him into a comfortable position and made sure each of the lines hung where it should. It took less than two minutes and when she had him situated she plumped up the pillows beneath his head.
“There, is that okay?”
He nodded, “Yeah. Damn but my ass is dragging.”
“Could be a sign you need to sleep,” Catherine suggested as she sat on the bed, facing him.
“I will if you’re staying.”
She’d planned to go home, clean up the house and maybe try to snatch a little sleep so she could come back tomorrow. That didn’t seem too likely because she’d worked the night shift long enough she seldom tried to live a normal routine even when she had time off but if he wanted her here, she’d need rest sometime. Why can’t I just say ‘no’ to him? After he broke my heart, I should be running the other way not holding his hand. But she wanted to be with him, just as much if not more than he seemed to need her.
“All right, Connor,” she sighed, “I’ll be here but please go to sleep, okay?”
“Okay,” he yawned, “Sit and talk at me until I do.”
Catherine didn’t know if she should laugh or get mad. “What do you want me to talk about?”
“I don’t care, just talk,” he murmured. “Tell me what you’d be doing if you were home.”
Fair enough. She’d asked him what he’d be doing if he wasn’t hurt. “If I had the night off, I’d be at home, maybe cooking something. I do that a lot, pick a recipe I’ve never made before and prepare it. I’ve learned to cook some awesome Cajun recipes doing that and I can make beef and broccoli that beats half the Chinese restaurants out there. Sometimes I drink a little wine while I cook and listen to music. I don’t watch much television but I like movies and so when the food’s done, I eat and watch something. I freeze what’s left because I cook too much for just me. Boring, huh?”
Most of the time she wished she had someone to cook for, someone to eat her gourmet dishes but she wouldn’t admit that to Connor.
He shook his head, “No, it sounds really nice. I can’t cook much of anything. I can make coffee and that’s about it. I eat at the club or pick something up. Home cooked anything sounds good.”
Back in the day, he’d eaten a lot of meals in her family’s kitchen and snitched his share of just baked cookies or cinnamon rolls. His mom seldom cooked either and Catherine remembered her only as a harried, often hateful woman who didn’t have time for her son or the daughter who split as soon as she got big enough to run.
“Do you still like oatmeal raisin cookies?” Catherine asked.
Connor smiled but his eyes were closed. “I bet I would. I don’t think I’ve had any since I ate your mom’s.”
“I’ll make you some,” she promised.
“I’d like that,” Connor mumbled, “I’m getting really sleepy, Cat.”
“Then go to sleep,” Catherine told him.
He managed to wind his fingers around hers and held them. “Okay.”
She sat until his breathing eased, slowed and watched the monitors. Then with care she untangled her hand from his and slipped from the bed. Catherine stood at the window and gazed out, her emotions jumbled. Her nerves jangled to jazz rhythms as she pondered her situation. Ten years faded away when she looked at Connor and all the love she thought she’d almost eradicated remained. At the first sight of his pale face against the hospital sheets she’d known it, felt it. She loved him and he treated her as if she meant something to him.
Even so, their relationship couldn’t revert to what it once was. She wasn’t sixteen and he sure wasn’t eighteen any more. That decade shaped them into the people they were now, older, hopefully wiser, mature. What they felt might be a foundation, she mused, but for anything to come out of this chance reunion they’d have to build something new. The question she faced was whether or not they could.
Catherine wanted it and yet she feared it. He hurt her once and he could do it again. If she risked her heart, her emotions on Connor and he stomped on them again, she couldn’t stand it. Even the idea made her want to cry and she debated whether or not she should gamble with her heart. If she lost this time, she’d lose all that ever mattered with no chance of redemption. She stared into the night, up into the clear night sky where ten thousand stars sparkled like tiny diamonds tossed across black velvet and she knew she’d take the chance, no matter what.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, her mother often quoted and so she’d do it, run the risk and hope for the best.
Chapter Five
Accustomed to being awake at night Catherine couldn’t sleep well, not even curled into the worn arm chair but she didn’t really want to leave. That sweater was too heavy, too hot but she hadn’t brought anything else to wear and she hated to go home just to change. Her mind remained tuned to the sounds in the corridor, the cycle of her shift but her focus zeroed on Connor. Somehow she’d rather watch him sleep than interact with him awake because then she could dream things might work out between them, somehow. There was no effort required when he couldn’t talk back or tempt her with those eyes or that mouth. As long as he slept, he belonged to her and she reveled in it.
The nursing staff came and went but they didn’t interact, just exchanged a smile or nod. Catherine liked that fine; she’d rather not answer a lot of questions. Sometime around midnight, she stepped out into the hallway to buy a cold soda and when she tiptoed back into the room Connor thrashed in another dream. He called out the same poignant things, something about a gun, shots and urged people to get down. She had no clue what he reference
d but it must’ve been something awful. Catherine stood beside his bed, hoping he’d settle down on his own but when he became more agitated, she leaned down to caress his face.
“Connor, honey, wake up,” she said, her voice urgent yet soft. “Come on, it’s just a dream.”
He writhed and made a terrible face before he roused, blinking up at her with confusion and fear shadowing his eyes. “What the hell?”
“You were having a nightmare,” Catherine soothed, “Want to talk about it?”
“No.” He snipped the word off as if his lips were scissors. “I’d rather not.”
“It might help if you told me,” she told him.
He blew air between his lips and shook his head. “I really doubt that, Cat.”
He hadn’t changed much, still as stubborn as a rock and when he got upset, he’d always tried to slam shut the gate to his emotions as if it would make whatever bothered him go away. If they had a chance at all, he’d have to open up and trust.
“Connor, don’t shut me out,” Catherine said, her voice a fraction above a whisper. “Please don’t.”
Her voice cracked as tears boiled up within, choking her throat and filling her eyes until they spilled down her cheeks. In the dark room, she doubted he could see them but he knew because he groped one hand up to touch her face.
“Oh, Christ, don’t cry, Cat,” he said, anguish thickening his voice. “I can’t take it.”
His plea divided her emotions. Half of Catherine determined to stop crying for his sake but the rest got mad. Connor couldn’t stand her tears? Funny when he’d left her weeping for his sake and over his loss.
“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t hang around after you broke up with me,” she said, unable to keep a note as bitter as rancid wine from her voice. “I cried then for a very long time, Connor.”
Emotional pain, aged to vintage, made her mean. Connor’s eyes filled with tears as he stared at her, his face contorted with regret and anguish. “I’m sorry Cat and we’ll have to talk sometime...”
Cat's Patient Heart Page 5