Out of the Shadows

by Loree Lough

  Wade nodded.

  “Friendly warning,” she added, “stay away from the chili. Looks like it’s been in the pan for a decade.”

  He answered with only the hint of a smile. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The nurses exited, leaving Wade and Patrice alone in the car. “What was that all about?” she asked.

  He pretended not to understand the question. “What was what about?”

  She giggled. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t want you aiming that glare in my direction.”

  “Glare? I didn’t—”

  She pointed at two holes in the elevator wall, where formerly, drawings colored by kids had hung. “You drilled those babies with your eyes, Dr. Cameron,” she teased.

  The elevator stopped at their floor, and Wade held the door. “That ain’t nothin’ compared to what she’s gonna get when I finish lunch.”

  “Why?”

  He noticed that Patrice had to walk quickly to keep pace with his stride. Wade slowed down. “She blabbed some confidential stuff in the presence of that young pediatric patient Julie, and you know what Julie did with the information.” He grunted. “Of all the unprofessional—”

  “I’m sure she wasn’t aware Julie was in earshot.”

  He stared. “After seeing what the news did to Emily, you’re defending her? I can’t believe my ears.”

  She held Mort up as a shield. “Ouch,” Patrice said.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to take out my annoyance on you.”

  She slid onto the seat of a nearby booth, and propped Mort up against the wall. “Apology accepted.” Once he’d settled in across from her, she added, “You want me to save the booth while you stand in line, or the other way around?”

  It was common knowledge around the Ellicott General cafeteria that between staff, ambulatory patients, and visitors tables were in short supply. Wade slid his wallet from his pocket, peeled off a twenty. “I’ll stand guard,” he said, handing it to her, “if you’ll get me a burger and fries and a medium soda.”

  She started to protest, but he held up a hand to forestall it. “Let me do this, Patrice. After all the terrific meals you’ve fed me, the least I can do is buy you a bowl of lousy soup and a plate of wilted salad.”

  For a moment, it looked like she might refuse the offer. Then she dumped her purse on the seat beside Mort. “Okay, but this means you owe me one….”

  Chuckling, he said, “Good thing you’re not keeping score, ’cause I’d owe you more than one.”

  She made a move to get into line when he grabbed her wrist. “Just out of curiosity,” he began, meeting her eyes, “what do I owe you?”

  One corner of her mouth lifted in a smile as she arched one brow. Tilting her head, she winked. Oh, what he’d give to be alone with her, so he could wrap her in his arms and kiss those beautiful, shapely lips!

  “Supper is at six, sharp,” she said, waving the twenty under his nose.

  She slid her gaze to where his fingers wrapped around her wrist…her silent signal that he should release her. Much as he hated to, he let go. And watching her step into line behind an orderly, Wade licked his lips.

  “Hey, Cameron!” a voice to his left called.

  Turning, he saw Adam on the other side of the cafeteria. Wade returned his wave.

  “C’mere,” his partner said. “I have something to show you.”

  Forgetting about Patrice’s purse and puppet on the bench seat across from him, Wade rose and headed across the room. “What’s so important it couldn’t wait until after lunch?” he asked, standing beside Adam’s table.

  “Feast your eyes.” Adam handed him a stack of photographs. Kasey, in sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat; Adam posing beside an enormous, gnarled tree; the newlyweds on the seat of a gilded carriage.

  “Nice,” Wade said. “Real nice.” He looked up, to where he’d last seen Patrice, amazed at the depth of his disappointment that she wasn’t in sight.

  “Gimme those,” Adam said, grabbing the pictures, “and get back to your li’l honey.” Shaking his head, he grinned. “Looks to me like you’re next, pal.”

  That got Wade’s attention. “Next? Next for what?”

  Smirking, Adam pointed to the photo of himself and Kasey, fully attired as bride and groom. “Need I say more?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “You’re delusional, pal.” As an afterthought, Wade dug around in his lab coat pocket for the business card a patient’s wife had given him earlier, and handed it to Adam.

  “‘JoEllen Smith,”’ Adam read, “‘Clinical Psychologist.”’ His brows drew together in confusion.

  “Need I say more?” Wade echoed.

  “Funny,” his partner said as he headed back to the table. “Very funny.”

  Laughing to himself, Wade spotted Patrice at the cashier’s stand. He stopped walking so he could watch, unbeknownst to her.

  Of all the women in line, she was by far the prettiest, with eyes almost too big for her delicate face and a smile that would put the sun’s glow to shame. Though petite, she had a certain strength to her bearing. The harsh overhead lights illuminated her face. As if she sensed someone looking at the scar, she fluffed her hair to hide it.

  Most women would have seen a plastic surgeon by now to have the thing removed. The fact that Patrice hadn’t reminded Wade just how responsible she felt for Gus’s condition.

  He made a mental note to do a better job of convincing her that the accident hadn’t been her fault, that the scar didn’t matter a whit to him—because in every way imaginable, she outshone every other woman he’d known.

  Patrice looked up just then, and when her eyes locked on his, he smiled. Maybe Adam was right, he thought as his heart hammered against his rib cage; maybe Patrice was “the one.”

  The fact that he’d never so much as entertained the thought before had to mean something.

  Didn’t it?

  Chapter Ten

  She could only hope the cashier was an honest woman. How was she supposed to double-check the correct change with Wade standing there, looking at her like that? Sighing, Patrice thanked the lady at the register and tucked the money under her salad plate.

  If only he wasn’t so all-fired good-looking, maybe it would be easier to stick to her decision. As it was, she had this lunch—and one more dinner—to get through, thanks to her limited willpower…and his irresistible smile.

  “Who was that man?” she asked, sliding the tray onto their table.

  “My partner,” Wade said, sitting across from her. “Adam Thorne. Amazing, isn’t it, that people can work at the same complex for years, and never meet?”

  Shrugging, she took their food from the tray. “Well, it’s like you said, this place is like a small city.” The amazing thing to her was, long before that so-called “first day” in Emily’s room, she’d noticed Wade…brow furrowed in concentration as he studied patient charts, looking sympathetic and understanding as he discussed diagnoses and prognoses with relatives, explaining treatment to the nurses.

  She’d seen him in the elevator, looking harried and hurried as he frowned at the numbers above the door, and in the halls, lab coat flapping behind him like a superhero cape as he rushed from room to room completing his rounds.

  Patrice grinned as she handed him his silverware, because Wade didn’t know it, but she’d stood behind him right here in the cafeteria line once…and ended up chiding herself for staring in open admiration of his tall, muscular body.

  The smile vanished, though, when she pictured the ravishing blonde from the newspaper’s engagement announcement. Patrice supposed if she, herself, had been model-gorgeous, he might’ve noticed her, maybe only once, but since she wasn’t…

  He squirted catsup on his burger. “I said that?”

  His question brought her back to the moment. “Uh-huh. The day we met—or rather, met again—in Emily’s room, you said something about Ellicott General being the size of a small city.”

  Toppin
g off the catsup with a dollop of mustard, he nodded. “Oh, yeah. When you were giving me directions to your office.” He smiled. “How could I have forgotten one of the best days of my life?”

  She’d just speared a slice of cucumber, and his comment halted its trip to her mouth. In a feeble attempt to hide her surprise, Patrice reached for her bottle of spring-water. “Don’t forget your change,” she said, pointing at the coins and bills still lying on the tray. “Thanks for lunch, by the way. I forgot to pack mine and—”

  He looked up, brows drawn together in confusion. “Why would you bring your lunch when I said I’d treat you today?”

  She remembered the message she’d left him earlier. How would she weasel out of this one? she wondered.

  “So what came up?” he asked.

  Blinking, Patrice said, “Came up?”

  “You said earlier you’d left me a message. To say you had to cancel?”

  “Oh, that…” She dipped the cucumber slice in blue cheese dressing. “I, um, managed to rearrange things.” At least she hadn’t needed to resort to dishonesty.

  “You were great with Emily before. Thanks for calming her down.”

  “I was glad to do it.” She put down her fork and, elbows on the table, linked her fingers together. “If I’m not out of line, do you mind telling me how long she has?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Couple weeks, a month at best.”

  Patrice groaned softly. “I hate this part of the job.”

  “Losing patients, you mean?”

  Nodding, she said, “I wish we could send them all home happy and healthy and—”

  “Then, why do you do it?” He dabbed a paper napkin to the corners of his mouth. “You could walk away from this any time…do something less depressing for a living.”

  “It isn’t all depressing. There are plenty of joyful moments. But even if there wasn’t even one, anyone who works here could walk away, find a line of work that’s easier on the heartstrings.”

  He thought for a moment. “Good point.” Picking up the hamburger again, he continued. “I know why I stay—why do you?”

  Patrice sighed. “There’s no simple answer to that question. I know it’d be a lot easier,” she admitted, “working in a traditional clinic setting, counseling schoolyard bullies and kids with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, or helping children deal with divorce…. But there are plenty of well-trained professionals willing to do that kind of work. This,” she said, hands out to indicate the hospital, “this is a calling.”

  “Like the ministry?”

  She told herself that note of sarcasm in his voice lived only in her imagination. “Exactly.” Then she said, “So why do you stay? Your job is a lot harder on you than mine could ever be on me.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Like you said, there’s no easy answer.” He met her eyes to add, “I guess if I had to sum it up in a sentence, I’d have to say I’m here because I don’t have any choice.”

  “What do you mean? ’Course you have a choice!”

  His hazel eyes glittered darkly, reminding her of the ring Gus used to wear, the one with the tigereye stone set in sterling.

  “Don’t presume to know what makes me tick, Patrice.”

  His voice, the set of his jaw, even his posture had changed in the brief instant it took to make the blunt statement. “I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it. “I never meant to pry, or imply that—”

  Wade’s eyes never left hers, not as he put down his burger, not as he wiped his hands, not even as he reached out and grabbed her fingertips. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I never should’ve barked at you. That was totally uncalled for.” Brow furrowed and lips taut, he stared at his plate and shook his head. “Maybe someday, I’ll tell you the story of why I became a doctor in the first place.” And meeting her eyes, he added, his voice softer, his expression gentler, “For now, trust me when I say I don’t have a choice in the matter. Okay?”

  Patrice looked at their hands, linked companionably. “Okay,” she whispered. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

  His brows rose. “What won’t?”

  Sliding her fingers from his grasp, she said, “I resent presumptuous people. Resent it even more when I become one of them.”

  He caught one hand, and this time held it between his own. “Patrice, you’re one of the finest human beings I’ve ever met, bar none. I’ve never said that to a woman in my life, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”

  She didn’t know how to respond to his straightforward praise, and so Patrice stared silently at the class ring on his left hand. Maybe someday, he’d replace it with a wedding band…one she’d slide onto his finger as he said—

  “And you’re beautiful, to boot.”

  Her dreamy girlish thoughts were dangerous, and she knew it. After giving his hand a gentle squeeze, she wriggled free of his grip. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen any of Dad’s test results yet?”

  Chuckling, Wade said, “Nice save, kiddo.” Then, “No, I haven’t heard a word yet, but I lit a fire under ’em down in the lab.” A corner of his mouth lifted in a mischievous grin, and he narrowed an eye. “One of the technicians owes me a favor, and promised me he’d put Gus at the top of the list.” He downed a gulp of soda. “We oughta know something by end of business today.”

  “I don’t know why I’m in such a hurry to know,” Patrice admitted.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” she began haltingly, “I have this horrible sinking feeling that it won’t be good news.”

  Leaning forward, he chucked her chin. “Aw, now, where’s my positive-thinking Patrice?”

  Your Patrice?

  “Whatever it is,” Wade said, patting her hand, “we’ve probably caught it early.”

  “If you had to guess, what would you say is causing his fevers?”

  His expression went immediately from friendly to professional. “I’d rather not guess,” he said, his tone all business.

  Nodding, Patrice said, “I understand.”

  “Good grief,” interrupted a deep voice, “why do you two look so glum?”

  Wade sat back and gave the man an uncomfortable smile. “Adam, hey.”

  Plopping a hand on Wade’s shoulder, he gave it a brotherly shake. “Where do you find all these good-lookin’ ladies!”

  Shaking his head, Wade grinned. “Patrice McKenzie, this is Adam Thorne, my business partner and all-round pain in the neck.”

  Adam shook Patrice’s hand. “Don’t let him pull the wool over your eyes,” he told her, winking. “He needs me like a baby needs his mama—my main purpose in his life is to keep him humble—”

  “Yeah, well,” Wade interrupted, chuckling, “you do a stellar job at that!”

  “So,” Adam said, glancing at Mort, “at long last, I meet the Monkey Lady, face to face.”

  Patrice looked from Adam to Wade, then back again. “You’ve heard about me?”

  “Everybody around here has heard of you.”

  “Good things, I hope.”

  “Nothin’ but! I once heard a nurse say that watching you work is like seeing a rainbow after a thunderstorm. Now, I’ve never had the pleasure of watching you do your magic, but your reputation precedes you.” He glanced at Wade. “And since you somehow managed to tame this monster, I’m inclined to agree.”

  She said a quiet prayer of thanks when Adam and Wade discussed some sort of office business. While they talked, her mind replayed Adam’s last comment. Tame Wade? To do that, wouldn’t she first have to capture him?

  Patrice’s heart beat faster as she watched them. It was plain they’d been friends, close friends, for a long time. Had Wade maybe said something to his partner about her—something to indicate his feelings went deeper than “relative of a patient”?

  She recalled their last kiss, and even now, the memory warmed her right down to her toes. That certainly hadn’t been evidence of a professional relationship!

  “…do you say, Monkey
Lady?”

  She hadn’t heard a word Adam said to her. “I—I’m sorry. You…were saying?”

  Chuckling, Adam began again. “I was just wondering if maybe I could borrow you sometime. I have a feeling you and your li’l pal there could do as much good for some of my adult patients as you’ve done at the Child Services Center.”

  She looked at Mort, too, slumped in the corner of the booth, smiling his ever-pleasant monkey smile. “I—I don’t know. I’m not trained to—”

  “Sleep on it, why don’t you, and get back to me. I have a feeling you’d be very good therapy for patients of any age.”

  She’d never considered using Mort with grown-ups. But maybe she should have…especially the terminally ill—

  “You look surprised,” Adam said.

  “I am, a little.”

  “Well, it’s no wonder, if you’ve been hanging around with this old grouch.” He jabbed a thumb in Wade’s direction. “Way he feels about hospital volunteers, it’s a wonder he hasn’t scared ’em all away!”

  Her gaze slid to Wade. “You don’t approve of volunteers?”

  Adam laughed. “Uh-oh, I think I’ve opened a can of worms. That’s my cue to leave. See you in the a.m., Wade. And you,” he said, pointing at Patrice, “stop by the office sometime soon, so we can discuss which patients I think you oughta pay a visit to.”

  She gave Adam a noncommittal smile. “Nice meeting you.”

  “Ditto.” And with that, he was gone.

  “He seems like a very nice man,” she told Wade.

  He nodded. “He is. The best.”

  “Known him long?”

  “We practically grew up together.” He laughed. “Seems we spent our teenage years at his house or mine.”

  “So you met in school?”

  Another nod. “Yeah. In school.”

  Why would he say “school” with that ominous note in his voice?

  “So, let’s get back to this volunteer thing. I had no idea you didn’t approve of the hospital volunteer program.”

  He frowned slightly. “It isn’t that I don’t approve, exactly….”

  “What, exactly?” she pressed.

  He shoved his plate away and folded his hands on the table. “Well, sometimes volunteers—” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can explain it.”