by Unknown
Dr. Welder noticed her uncharacteristic hesitation. "He'll be all right. I promise," he added with a faint grin. "Now go find his father, will you?"
"Yes, Doctor," she said automatically.
She cast a last, lingering look at Keegan's still form and grimaced as she turned and went down the long hall. Gene Taber met her halfway, pale and looking as if he expected to hear the worst.
"Salmonella," she said, quoting the doctor. "They're giving him something to stop the nausea and dysentery. They'll keep him, I'm sure, until they get some fluids back into him. He'll be fine now."
"Can I see him?" he asked.
"Yes. First, though, we have to give Lettie some information," she added, drawing her arm through his. "Meanwhile, they'll draw blood for testing and get him into a room and settled. By the time you see him, he'll be much better."
He didn't argue, but he looked as if he wanted to. "I should have stopped him," he murmured as they walked. "I was going to go out and get us something to eat, but O'Clancy wanted to see some videotapes of my new colts, and Maureen doesn't cook, you know. Keegan had a terrible appetite. Mary June will be sick herself when she hears about this."
"Salmonella isn't a killer, if it's caught in time. And you did the right thing," she said. She smiled up at him. "Now, come on, nervous dad, and I'll give you some coffee while you answer all Lettie's questions, okay?"
"You're a nice girl," he said sincerely, smiling wearily at her. "I was scared to death when I called you. Thank you for coming."
"I like him, too," she confessed ruefully.
"Only like, Eleanor?" he asked delicately.
She turned down a hallway. "Here's Lettie's office," she said cheerfully, ignoring the question.
She introduced him to the elderly nurse, then went down to the canteen to get coffee from the machine. When she took it to him, she sat quietly by his side while he answered the necessary questions. By the time he finished, Keegan was installed in a private room and sleeping peacefully, an IV in one muscular arm and the night nurse buzzing around taking vitals when they entered.
"Thank goodness it's almost your shift," Vicky Tanner said, grinning at her coworker as she jotted down the information on Keegan's chart. "I've had two heart attacks on the floor in one night. The medical staff has really been working tonight."
"I can imagine," Eleanor said. "Emergency was bouncing when I came in. How is he now?" she asked, drawing the nurse to one side as Gene sat down in the chair by bis son's bed.
"Vitals have picked up already," Vicky replied. "He'll do, but he's a very sick man. His father got him here just in time. He's badly dehydrated."
Eleanor nodded. "Well, I'd better get down to the office so that Mary can give her report and go home to bed. You, too," she said with a smile. She glanced at Keegan, her dark eyes more eloquent than she realized. "I'm glad Dr. Welder sent Keegan to my floor. He's sort of a friend of the family."
Vicky studied her. "Yes. Well, see you tomorrow."
"Have a nice day."
"I hope to sleep right through it, thanks." Vicky grinned.
Eleanor went to the bedside and touched Gene's shoulder even as she stared down at Keegan's sleeping face. He was still pale, but his color was a little better now, thank goodness. "I have to go on duty," she said. "He'll be all right, you know."
"Thank God." He sighed wearily and shook his head. "There's only been one time in his life that he's been really sick, when he was about ten years old and had a bad fall. Otherwise he's been healthy—so healthy that it made this doubly frightening."
"He'll sleep for a while now," she told him. "But you're welcome to stay. I'll check on you later."
He nodded. "Oh, here." He handed her the car keys.
"Thanks for bringing it," she said. "How will you get home?''
He grimaced. "The O'Clancys will be right along, I'm afraid," he said with distaste. "My bouseguests are becoming fixtures. And the last thing he needs is Maureen cooing over him when be can hardly hold his head up."
"I'll send Nurse Wren down to run them off ten minutes after they get here," she said gleefully.
"Nurse Wren?"
"The name is not indicative of her nature, I'm afraid," Eleanor told him, and smiled. "She's fifty, hatchet-nosed, and the hospital is her life and her career."
"Poor O'Clancys," he said, and returned her smile.
She winked, glanced once more at Keegan and left him with his father.
It was late afternoon before Keegan regained consciousness. He looked pale and weak, and he could barely lift his head at all. His father had gone home only minutes before, and the O'Clancys had stayed barely ten minutes before Nurse Wren got hold of them. Eleanor almost felt guilty for sending Wren into the room, but it had bothered her—in unexpected ways—to see that Irish woman bending over Keegan so lovingly and kissing his helpless face. She did feel possessive about Keegan; she couldn't help it. She'd shared something with him that she'd never shared with anyone else, that she never wanted to share with anyone else. She hated the thought of that Maureen person touching him, being with him as she had. It was beyond bearing. Seeing Maureen kissing him triggered a horrible emptiness in her. She'd come face to face with reality, with the fact that she'd never really have Keegan. Not his love, or any kind of future with him. He'd marry someone like Maureen, and she would be alone, as she'd been alone since she'd left Lexington four years ago. Despite his desire for her, Keegan would never be able to give her what she wanted most: his love.
She had to force herself to walk to his bed, to take his temperature and pulse and blood pressure with cool professionalism. Especially with those very blue eyes wide open and watching every move she made.
"Out...of uniform," he said weakly, and tried to smile as she pumped up the cuff she'd fixed around his arm and read his blood pressure.
"What?" she asked.
"Your cap."
She sighed. "I left it at home," she replied. "Your father called as I was making breakfast. I barely took time to dress."
He caught her hand as she removed the instrument, holding her fingers despite her feeble effort to free them.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"It's my job," she replied, and gently took his fingers from hers and put them back over his chest. "Rest now. You've been dreadfully sick."
"Told you...my own cooking would...kill me someday," he murmured drowsily.
"It very nearly did," she said quietly. She reached down and smoothed back his unruly hair. It was cool and damp under her fingers. "Get some rest now. You've had a rough night."
"My stomach is sore." He grimaced, touching it through the sheet.
"I guess so," she said, "with all those spasms. By tomorrow, you'll be much better."
"Stay with me," he whispered, clutching at her skirt.
That went through her like an arrow, that whispered plea. He was sedated and surely didn't know what he was saying; she realized that. But it was so sweet, thinking that he cared enough to want her with him.
She touched his hand with hers and held it until he fell asleep again. Then she tucked it back under the cover and pulled the sheet over him.
Sleep well, my darling, she thought tenderly. She had to force herself to go out the door and leave him. But he hadn't known what he was saying, of course. It was just the aftereffects of all he'd been through.
Gene was back just before three, as Eleanor was going off duty. She told him how Keegan was and mentioned that he was asleep. He said he'd wait until she gave her report and buy her a cup of coffee. She almost refused, but he looked so alone.
"Okay," she relented. "I'll be back in ten minutes. Meet you in the canteen."
Quickly she gave her report and went off duty. Gene was sitting at a table in the small canteen just beyond the waiting rooms.
"It's been a long day," he said with a smile.
"I can imagine." She stared into her coffee cup. "He's better, but still weak. But tomorrow he'll be screaming to get out o
f here. You wait and see."
"I'll enjoy hearing him scream, after this," he told her. He leaned back in bis chair and studied her drawn face. "Still hurts, does it?" he asked levelly.
She lifted her chin. "I'm over all that," she declared.
"Bull," he replied pleasantly. "Not much, you aren't, judging by the way you came running this morning when I called you. You were as horrified as I was, professional training and all."
She smiled miserably. "I guess I was," she admitted. "He's a very special man."
"I think so. He's been spoiled rotten, of course," he told her with a rakish grin. "I'm not sorry, either. I came up rough. I never had anything. So I made up for it with him. If his mother hadn't died giving birth to him, all that might have been different. But after I lost her, he became my whole world. I'd have done anything for him." He sipped coffee. "Women have done their share of spoiling, too, though."
"Yes." She sighed.
He studied her lowered face. "He used to talk about you all the time, after you left Lexington," he commented.
Her face lifted involuntarily, her dark eyes quiet and curious. "Did he?"
"I thought it odd at the time," he confessed, "especially in view of the fact that he'd only taken you out that one time. He was engaged to Lorraine, too. Yet you were the one he talked about."
She sighed. "I found out why he took me out. It was to bring Lorraine up to par, to make her accept his proposal. He manipulated both of us, and it worked."
"Did it? Oh, he got Lorraine all right. But once he had her, he couldn't get rid of her fast enough. He drove her away, Eleanor. He neglected her, ignored her, deliberately baited her until she broke off the engagement."
Her heart began to race.' 4I hurt his conscience,'' she said tightly. "He said so."
"He manipulated you both, but it backfired," he said. His blue eyes searched her face. "He cared about you. He really cared. It was a shame you left town when you did."
He couldn't know how that hurt. But she smiled in spite of the pain. "Think so?" she asked, toying with her coffee cup. "Perhaps it was just an attack of guilt."
"Who knows?" he said, watching her. "Don't let that Irish filly drag him off to the altar, Eleanor. She wants him, and he may decide he's got nothing else to hold him here."
"It would be a good match, though, don't you think?'' she commented, even though it was killing her to admit it. "She's wealthy and well-bred, and she'd fit into his world very well."
"And you don't think you would?" he shot at her, blue eyes Hashing. "Balderdash! I didn't raise my boy to be a snob, Eleanor, and neither am I. You're more than welcome in my home any time, in any way. And don't start throwing that line at me about just being the carpenter's daughter. It won't wash with me!"
"Ferocious old thing, aren't you?" She laughed.
"You bet, when it comes to social warfare." He finished his coffee. "I like you, girl. You've got style and a temper to match my son's."
"I like you, too," she replied. "I have to get home and feed Dad. You'll, uh, let me know if diere's any change?" she added hesitantly.
He searched her concerned eyes. "Sure. Care to come back and sit with him tonight?"
She wanted to, desperately. But she shook her head. "You'll do him more good than I will," she said softly. "I'll see you in the morning. Take care. Of both of you."
He nodded. "Thanks again for all you've done."
"I've only done my job," she demurred. Smiling at him, she put the empty cup in the trash can and left.
It was a long night. She paced and paced, until her father mentioned that she might have a game of chess with him. That made it worse, reminded her of Keegan and happier times.
"Go see him, for God's sake, if you're that worried," Barnett suggested.
"I'm not worried!" she snapped.
He shook his head, grinning. "He's tough. He'll be all right. Gene said so. He came by earlier to tell me how Keegan was getting on. Said he didn't know which of the three of you looked worse when the ambulance got there. He was afraid you were going to flake out, too, when you saw Keegan."
"He looked pretty bad," she mumbled evasively.
"I imagine so. He'll probably never eat his own cooking again," he added dryly. "I'm glad the boy's all right. I'm rather fond of him."
So was Eleanor. All too fond. But she said nothing.
Keegan was sitting up in bed when she went on duty the next morning, still pale but bristling with impatience to get on his feet again.
"It's about time you showed up," he grumbled as she walked into the room. His blue eyes glared up at her. "I've been awakened from a sound sleep and forcibly bathed by some horrible old woman with cold hands, I've been poked and prodded by
DIANA PALMER IfS a doctor, someone came and took half my bteoi with a horrible long needle.... Where were yoo?" She had to fight down laughter. "I've beea M home sleeping, of course," she replied, gems JD the bed. "You look much better today. Ho» do you feel?"
"Empty," he said shortly. "How about a seak? On second thought, how about a whole seer'"
She checked his chart and smiled. ' Nope. Liquids and semisolids today. If that stays do»n all right, then we'll see about something more substantial."
"Conspiracy," he accused. "You and mat doctor are in league together."
"Of course." She curtsied. "We're your professional health-care team. We have to take good care of you."
"You're starving me to death, that's what you're doing."
"Eating is what got you here in the first place."" she reminded him. "Here." She stuck the thermometer in his mouth while she took his pulse. He looked up at her, at the neat fit of her white uniform. His piercing eyes paused on her breasts, and she felt his pulse jump as she took it.
By the time she got to his blood pressure, his watchful gaze was frankly disturbing. She was glad no one was taking her pulse!
She finished reading vitals and jotted them down on his chart.
"When do I get out of here?" he demanded.
"Not today," she said cheerfully. "How about something to read?"
He sighed in frustration. "Dad will bring the Wall Street Journal in when he comes."
She lifted an eyebrow. "Well, we do have a local daily paper in Lexington, you know."
"I know who did what," he told her. "The only reason people read the paper is to find out who got caught at it."
"Cynic," she accused.
"I've got more reason to be cynical than most," he responded. "God, you look sweet in that uniform," he added softly.
She avoided looking directly at him. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked.
"The ministering angel of mercy," he said with a smile. "Yes, it suits you. You always did care about people, even when you were a kid. You were forever patching up one of your playmates."
"How do you know that?"
"Your father. We talk about you a lot," he replied, folding his arms over his bare chest. The sheet had slid down around his lean waist, and she was almost sure he didn't have pajamas on under it.
"You're supposed to be wearing a hospital gown," she told him.
DIANA PALMER t "What for?" he asked lazily. "I sleep •• JC home, and this is a private room."
"We have candy stripers here," she sant "Young girls who don't exactly need the lrmd af education they'd get if they came in when KX were on your way to the bathroom."
He raised an eyebrow, noticing the way siar averted her eyes from his hair-covered chest and muscular stomach. "Do I bother you this way?'"
"I went through four years of nurse's training."' She looked directly at him. "And I have seen you without your clothes once, if you remember."
"Bravo, honey," he murmured gently. "Do you realize that's the first time you've ever brought the subject up by yourself?''
"As you said once, it was a long time ago," she replied.
"Not so long that I can forget it," he said quietly. He searched her dark eyes. "You haunt me."
"Hire an
exorcist," she suggested, then checked her watch. "I have to run. We're overloaded with patients today. Mostly women." She grinned at him. "I imagine they've all come up with various illnesses just because they heard you were a patient."
He smiled, and it warmed her like sunshine. "Think so?" he asked.
"Oh, definitely."
"Do you have to go?" he asked as she paused at the door.
"Afraid so. I'm the assistant floor nurse these days. That means if the supervisor is missing, my head rolls in her place." She grinned.
He tilted his head. "Such a pretty head to meet such a horrible fate," he remarked. "Wouldn't you rather sit and hold my hand instead?''
"Miss O'Clancy will do that for you, I'm sure," she said with admirable indifference. "If you need anything, ring the buzzer."
"I need you," he said softly. "Will you come if I call?"
"Only in case of emergency." She laughed. "See you later."
It was an oddly satisfying day. She popped in and out of Keegan's room as time permitted, and he flirted outrageously with her. She ignored his provocative remarks, though, and was completely professional in her behavior. He seemed puzzled as he watched her go about her duties, competent and secure in a position of responsibility. For once he was on the receiving end of the orders, and she saw him smile at the irony of their reversed positions.
"You're different here," he remarked just after his dinner had been served and Eleanor cleared the dishes away to take his vital signs again. "Very much the career girl. Do you enjoy it?"
"The responsibility gets heavy from time to time," she confessed. "But yes, I do enjoy it."
"You run all the time," he grumbled as she finished with him and tucked her pen back into her pocket.
"I have to," she said, smiling at him. "I have a lot of patients on this floor sicker than you are. There's a heart attack in 4B, and a bleeding ulcer in 4F, and I've got an appendectomy next door, pneumonia down the hall...."
"I get the general idea," he said dryly. "Come here."
Her heart leaped, but she managed a smile. "Why?"
"Because I asked you to," he replied. "Sorry. We're not allowed to fraternize with the patients," she told him.
"I don't want to fraternize," he replied, and grinned wickedly. "I just want to drag you down here and let you take my pulse again."