“And what would you do if he showed up on your doorstep?” Simon opened his eyes, holding hers with a steady gaze.
“Let him in. Feed him and then give him a smack for making us worry about him.”
“Would you forgive him for making you worry?”
“Of course.”
Simon quirked an eyebrow up at her, his expression slightly cynical. “You say that so easily. C’mon,” he urged. “Try to imagine him coming back, then tell me you’d just let him in.”
Caitlin looked past Simon, lost herself for a moment in memories and wishes. “You’re right. I said that quite easily. I think it would be hard. But in spite of never being close, he’s still my brother.” Caitlin looked back at Simon. “That will never change no matter how I wish it. My mother and father love him dearly. For their sake as much as my own I would probably forgive him. I believe God has forgiven me a whole lot more.”
“Sort of like the parable of the debtors.”
“Which one do you mean?”
“You know. The one where the king forgave a man a huge debt and then the man turns around and sends one of his debtors to prison for an even smaller debt.”
“That would be the one,” she said, surprised that he knew it. “How did you know that?”
“My adoptive father used to read the Bible to us pretty regularly.” Simon shrugged as if uncomfortable admitting even that much.
“I’m glad to hear that.” She smiled, pleased to find out that he'd had some faith training in his life. It made him more approachable somehow. “I’ll be back in half an hour, and I’ll check your temperature again. I’m a little concerned about how you’re feeling.”
She looked down at him, still holding the thermometer. His hazel eyes held hers and she couldn’t look away. She felt as if she were drifting toward him, falling, losing herself in his mesmerizing gaze.
“Caitlin.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, and the sound of it speaking her name created a subtle intimacy.
She couldn’t look away, didn’t want to.
She was standing close to him, and when he reached up to touch her, to gently run his fingers along her elbow, she couldn’t stop him.
“What are you doing to me?” he murmured, stroking her upper arm with light movements of his fingers, his eyes warm, soft, holding hers. “You save my life, you stay with me, you take care of me, you’ve even got me reading the Bible, something I haven’t done in years.” He laughed lightly, his fingers encircling her arm with a warmth that quickened her pulse. He gave her a light shake, as if in reprimand. “What are you really, Caitlin? An angel?”
Caitlin swallowed, trying to find her breath. “I’m just a nurse,” she replied, her own voice tense with suppressed emotion.
The words, spoken aloud, were a palpable reminder of where she was and who she was. “Just a nurse,” she repeated again. Shaken, she pulled away and without looking back, left.
She managed to make it to the desk, sat down behind its high wall and dropped her face into her hands. What was happening to her? She, who prided herself on her professionalism, her detachment, her ability to calmly assess a situation, was getting drawn into something that was moving out of her control.
She was falling for a patient.
All through her training warnings against precisely that had been drilled into each nurse. The dangers of the enforced intimacy of the patient-nurse relationship. The helplessness of a patient creating a false romanticism. Bored patients who whiled away their time trying to get nurses to pay attention to them.
Simon was all the warnings she had ever heard, all the warnings she had ever given other student nurses, wrapped up in one dangerous package. And she was falling for him.
Blowing out a sigh, she pulled her hands over her face, resting her fingers against her mouth. She had been crazy to come back to work so soon after breaking up with Charles. She thought it would help. But she was emotionally vulnerable and Simon was bored and carelessly handsome.
A bad combination all the way around.
Chapter Seven
Simon closed his eyes, wishing sleep would drift over his mind, pulling with it the thoughts that wouldn’t stop. But sleep was the one thing he couldn’t accomplish through force of will.
At the bed beside him, Shane’s parents were saying goodbye. The quiet sound of their voices created an unexpected sorrow he disliked.
All evening people had come and gone through this room, and the only people who stopped by his bed were Caitlin and the cleaning lady. He wasn’t a maudlin sort. Ever since he and his brother Jake had been split up he knew that to need people was to give them an edge over you. And once they had an edge over you, they were in charge.
The solution was easy. Keep relationships light and superficial and don’t let anyone get close. He had accomplished both quite well.
But that meant Simon now lay, alone, in a hospital bed and no one knew or cared.
Snap out of it, Simon, he reprimanded himself. You want it this way. You don’t want anyone intruding on your life with their expectations, telling you what to do.
He heard the scrape of chairs beside him, heard Shane’s mother murmur, “Make sure you get enough rest, honey.”
“Don’t go racing down the hall,” his sister added with an attempt at humor.
“Like I could,” Shane replied but his voice didn’t have the petulant whine of a few days ago.
“We’ll come by again tomorrow,” Shane’s father said. Simon didn’t want to look, but did anyhow. He saw the faint shadow of someone bending over the head of the bed, then another and another.
“Love you, Shane,” the mother whispered.
“Love you, too, Mom,” he whispered back.
Simon turned his head back to the window. Wasn’t that cute, he thought. Mom and Dad and sister kissing Shane goodbye. He didn’t think anyone did that anymore. He didn’t think anyone did that, ever.
He closed his eyes, but he couldn’t erase the image. He wondered what it would have been like, at Shane’s age, to have lived with adults who touched in kindness instead of in anger. Parents who cared, who loved, who surrounded you in times of need.
Once in his life he had been surrounded with love. The love of his adoptive father, Tom Steele. Once he had been tucked in and kissed good-night by his adoptive father. But that was in another age, another life.
“Do you want me to turn off your light?”
Caitlin’s soft voice gave him a start. He opened his eyes, to see her standing beside his bed.
“No,” he replied, unable to keep his eyes off her. “I can’t sleep.”
“You have to. You haven’t been able to sleep for a couple of nights now.” Caitlin frowned, looking concerned as she stepped closer. She fussed with his sheet, folded his blanket back—little maternal things that touched on a hidden sorrow, reinforcing the mood brought on by Shane’s family.
Her hair was loose this evening, framing her delicate features. Her eyes looked brighter, her cheeks pinker and her lips shone.
“You really are beautiful,” he couldn’t help but say.
Caitlin’s cheeks grew even pinker. She was blushing, he thought with a measure of wonder. Without thinking, he reached out and took her hand.
Maybe it was the loneliness, maybe it was the sappy mood he had worked himself into, but when he felt her delicate fingers in his, he couldn’t stop himself. He lifted her hand to his face and pressed a kiss in her palm.
And what was even more amazing, she let him. He felt her fingers curve around his cheek, brushing it lightly, then she slowly pulled her hand back.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, sounding breathless.
Like I should be standing up, with my arms around you, kissing you, he thought, sucking in a deep breath. “I’ll be okay,
” was all he could say. He really had to get out of here. This woman was starting to get to him.
Caitlin laid the back of her hand on his forehead and frowned. “You’re not feverish, thank the Lord.”
“Why thank Him?’ he said, trying for his usual flippant attitude, the one he knew she hated. Anything to avert his reaction to her gentle touch. “He didn’t have anything to do with this.”
Caitlin only smiled. “I think He did.”
“You been praying again?”
“Yes.”
“I told you not to do that.” Her talk of prayer always made him uncomfortable. Just like reading the Bible had. It reminded him of living with Tom Steele and Jake.
“Well, I did it anyhow.”
“Like I said before, you’re wasting your time. I’m just a blip in your life, sweet Caitlin.” Simon could tell from the look on her face he had hurt her, which was what he intended to do.
Then why did it bother him? he wondered. “So what do you want from me now?”
She was supposed to say “Nothing” and then leave. She was supposed to stop tormenting him with her sincerity, her concern, her talk of prayers. Instead she pulled a chair close and sat down beside him in spite of how he had just talked to her.
“Simon, isn’t there anyone we can call, anyone who we should tell about your accident?”
“There’s no one else.”
“You had said something about a foster home....”
“I’ve been in a bunch of them, Caitlin.” Simon turned to face her, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I ran away from just about every one of them. They don’t care. The very nature of foster homes is temporary.”
“Why did you run away?”
Simon held her soft gaze, a gentle pain building in his chest and warnings ringing in his head. But he was lonely and in pain, and Caitlin was here. She’d be out of his life in a week anyhow so he took a chance and told her the truth. “Because it was easier than letting someone get close,” he said finally. “At least that’s what the counselors always said.”
“You’ve been to counseling?”
“Seeing a counselor doesn’t make me crazy, you know.”
“Don’t be so defensive,” she chided, lightly shaking her head. “Seeing a counselor is a sign of strength, not weakness.”
Simon felt himself relax at what she said, felt that peculiar tension that always gripped him when she was around, loosen. “I saw some when I was in foster care, and I went a bunch of times in the past few years.”
“So how old were you when you ended up on your own?”
“Sixteen.”
“Wouldn’t you have been in care until you were eighteen?”
Simon shrugged. “If I had followed the rules, yes. But I took off from the treatment foster home they put me.”
“Where did you go from there?”
“I ended up hitching a ride with a bunch of tree planters. They told me about the good money they made and I joined them.”
“And then...” she prompted, smiling in encouragement.
“Then I moved from one job to another. I made good money tree planting, worked on the rigs offshore, saved my money and invested it.”
“So what do you do now?”
“This and that. I play the stock market, own some property. Oscar takes care of the details.” He caught her gaze and smiled. “I’ve done well for myself. I’ve got a lot of money. I can do pretty much what I please.” Simon stopped himself. He sounded as if he were trying to impress her and maybe in a way he was. He had gotten where he was by virtue of his own hard work, his own luck and making his own choices. “I’ve been luckier in the second part of my life than the first.”
“Until now,” she said, her mouth curving up.
He swallowed, her smile winding around his heart, warming and softening it as he held her eyes with his own. She didn’t look away and slowly all else drifted away, meaningless, unknown. His past, his need for independence all seemed to disappear. There was only him and Caitlin. It seemed too right to reach out, to feather his fingers against her soft cheek. She turned her face oh-so-slightly, her eyes drifting shut as her hand came up to hold his hand close to her face.
They stayed thus, the tenuous connection holding them, creating a fragile bond. Then a cart rattled past the door and Caitlin abruptly dropped her hand. Simon could see her stiffening, straightening, pulling back.
“I have to go,” she said quietly, getting up. She pressed her hand to her cheeks, as if to cool them. She looked away, biting her lip, then turned to him. “I’m sorry, Simon, this shouldn’t have happened.”
How could she say such a thing? That was traditionally his line. “Why not?”
She faced him, her eyes now clouded with sorrow. “I’m a nurse, that’s why not. This was a mistake. It’s unethical and wrong.”
Her words were like repeated douses of cold water. His feelings for her had been confusing ever since the first moment he saw her, but he would never have called them unethical and wrong.
Because for him, for the first time in his life, what he felt for a woman was pure and decent.
“You better go, then,” he said, his voice tight.
She did.
* * *
Stop it, Caitlin rebuked herself. Stop thinking about him. She bent over the sink in the ladies’ room, splashing cold water on her face, the shock of it clearing her mind. She did it again, and again and again until her cheeks were numb and her fingers stiff.
She dried her face and hands, pausing a moment to look at herself in the mirror again. A wide-eyed, frightened face stared back at her. Her lips looked as if they had been kissed. Puzzled, she lifted a finger to her mouth, wondering what it would be like to have Simon’s lips on hers, to feel his strong arms hold her close.
Please help me, Lord, she prayed. I can’t have this happen. It’s wrong and it doesn’t make sense. Please help me stay objective. Help me remember I’m a nurse, a professional who doesn’t fall in love with her patients.
She closed her eyes, took a breath as she felt a peace come over her. I want to take care of Simon, Lord, but I want to do it the right way. Help me keep my focus. Show me what I should do. And as she laid it in God’s hands she was reminded that she didn’t go through life on her own strength. She waited a minute, regaining her composure, then, when she felt her control return, she left.
The ward was quiet when she returned to her desk. It was only nine o’clock, and she had an hour of charting ahead of her. Danielle was on her break and Valerie, one of the other nurses, was just returning to the desk when Caitlin sat down. Thankfully she didn’t indulge in any chitchat and Caitlin could get to her work.
Routine, that’s what she needed, she thought, pulling out Shane’s chart. She clicked the pen when the ping of the elevator made her look up. Who would be coming on the ward this time of the night?
The doors of the elevator slid open, and Charles stepped out.
Caitlin felt as if the cold water she had recently splashed on her face shot through her veins. Her throat went dry, and her hands went still.
He stopped just outside the elevator, looking around, his expression puzzled. He saw her then and with a hesitant smile, walked over to where she sat.
“Hello, Caitlin,” he said, his deep voice familiar. He came to a stop in front of the high desk, his face and shoulders visible above it. He wore a black topcoat over a navy suit, setting off his blond hair and blue eyes. He was handsome in a clean-cut way.
She only nodded at him, fully aware of the curious stares of Valerie beside her.
“Do you have a few minutes?” he asked quietly.
“I’m kind of busy right now,” she replied. She didn’t want to spend any more time with him and she was afraid to leave the familiar territo
ry of her desk.
“I brought back your suitcase,” he said, lifting it slightly so she could see it above the high wall she sat behind.
“Just set it down where you’re standing. Thanks.” She was surprised how easy it was to keep her tone impersonal.
Charles disappeared as he set it down. When he straightened, he rested his elbows on the desk, leaning closer to her. He glanced sidelong at the nurse sitting beside Caitlin then back. “How have you been?” he asked, his voice lowering.
“I’ll just be in the supply room, Caitlin.” Valerie pushed her chair back.
Caitlin wanted her to stay. She didn’t want to be alone with Charles, not after what just happened in Simon’s room. She felt as if her life were spiraling out of control, and the last thing she needed was to face Charles, the man who had started it.
But she said nothing. Charles smiled his thanks then when Valerie was gone, turned back to Caitlin.
“Can we go for coffee, or something?”
“No. I just got off my break.” Which I spent beside the bed of a patient, with Simon, she thought guiltily busying herself with some papers.
“I need to talk to you.” Charles’s voice held an intensity she had never heard before. She looked up to see his eyes staring down at her, his mouth unsmiling. For the first time she noticed how drawn and tired he looked. Very un-Charles-like.
“What do we have to talk about?” she asked, pulling back from the force of his gaze, unable to stop the touch of sympathy she felt.
“Us. What happened last week. What’s going to happen in the future.”
“We don’t have a future, Charles. I don’t know now if we ever did.” Caitlin felt intimidated by him towering over her and stood up.
“I made a huge mistake that night. You caught me by surprise.”
Caitlin couldn’t believe how obtuse he could be. “We’ve been dating, Charles. Wondering where our relationship is going is hardly a surprise. Moving to Los Angeles, now, that was a surprise.”
Charles pulled his hand over his face, looking away from her. “I know that, Caitlin. I know all that. It’s just that...”
A Family-Style Christmas and Yuletide Homecoming Page 7