by Arlene James
“I remember.” Stephen acknowledged the paramedics with nods.
Having one leg in a cast made it difficult to kick one’s self, but he would have dearly liked to do so. Barring that, he’d have been pleased for the floor to open up and swallow him whole, adjustable bed and all. As it was, he could only smile and shake hands all around. It was bad enough that he’d made a fool of himself over her and the doctors, but he should’ve known that she wouldn’t give his room number to anyone who could or would harm him. To make matters worse, at least one of these fellows, Carter, was a real fan.
“Man, I saw your last shutout. Amazing game! One of the best I’ve ever seen.”
Stephen gladly recapped that game with the guy. It kept him from having to look at Kaylie. Eventually, he sent Carter to the drawer in the beside table where the autographed pucks were stored and saw them handed out.
“My agent’s working on those game passes,” Stephen told them. “I hope a game next season is okay. Playoff seats are just so hard to come by.”
“Oh, hey, I’d rather see you play, anyway,” Carter assured him. The others murmured agreement.
“Not that we’d turn down playoff tickets,” one was quick to add.
Stephen chuckled. “I hear you. I’d sure rather be there than here myself.”
Kaylie stepped in and put an end to the visit at that point. “Better let the patient get some rest, boys.”
He did feel a little ragged, but when she glanced at her watch, he suddenly felt even worse. She was going to leave him here on his own again. It was nothing less than he deserved, of course, but he didn’t like it. Still, he could not let her go without apologizing and at least trying to explain his behavior.
The paramedics dutifully filed out, waving and thanking him for the pucks.
“No, no,” Stephen protested. “Y’all took good care of me. I appreciate it.”
Carter was the last out the door. He smiled at Kaylie, waggled his puck at her and winked. Stephen felt a kick in his chest and an instant spike in his temper, and that’s when it hit him that she was right, after all. He was jealous! Terribly so.
The knowledge took his breath away. For the first time in his life, he was actually jealous, and he didn’t like it, not one little bit. The question was, what could he do about it? What should he do about it?
Helplessly, he watched her check her watch again, and the next thing he knew, he was pleading with her.
“Wait. Don’t go yet. Just wait a minute, will you?” Well, that was another first: Stephen Gallow pleading with a woman. Usually, they threw themselves at him and he occasionally allowed himself to catch one. None of them had ever affected him as Kaylie did, though. “I—I have something to say.”
Standing all the way across the room, Kaylie looked down at her toes, rocking back on her heels and folding her arms. He held his breath until she looked up again. Heart pounding, he held out his hand. She hesitated for a long moment, but finally she moved forward. Once she drew near, she put her hand in his. A ridiculous smile broke out on his face. It was insane, but he couldn’t help a surge of nervous relief and sheer joy, especially when he gave her a tug and she came un-resisting to the side of his bed. Looking down at her much smaller hand in his, he swept his fingers across her knuckles and spoke with blunt honesty.
“I’ve been unreasonable at times, even unbearable, and I apologize.”
“No apology necessary,” she told him softly, all forgiveness and generosity.
“I know that it’s selfish of me to want to keep you to myself,” he went on, squeezing her hand, “but it’s so much easier when you’re here.”
“I understand,” she said.
He shook his head. “I don’t think you do. I’m not sure I understand it myself. When you’re with me, I feel so…comforted, peaceful…hopeful, even, but it’s more than that. It’s…”
“It’s what?” she asked, tilting her head.
He looked up into the purity of her face, her deep, dark, open gaze filling him with warmth. Her kindness and sweetness and patience enveloped him. A fierce yearning shook him to his core. Instinctively, he reached up, and then he was pulling her down, his hand clamped around the nape of her neck beneath the heavy weight of that crazy, looping bun that he hated simply because it kept her hair contained. She didn’t have far to go. He surely stood more than a foot taller than she did, but he was partially sitting in a high bed, and she was already bending close. It seemed like an eternity, but no more than a heartbeat passed before their lips met.
What happened next could not be explained.
The room and everything else seemed to spin away. Sensation electrified every nerve ending in his battered body. At the same time, Stephen’s mind clarified. He saw the stark reality of his own life.
He had been living, existing, in a kind of desert—a dry, cold, barren, lonely place where he didn’t want to be anymore—and Kaylie was his first, perhaps his only, chance to escape it. She was warmth and shelter, companionship, contentment, peace—and much too good for the likes of him. She obviously knew it, too, for she suddenly wrenched away and fled the room.
Stephen collapsed back against his pillow, closed his eyes and prayed that he hadn’t totally blown it. He suddenly did not see how he could do this, how he could put himself back together again and overcome this latest fiasco without her. He wasn’t even sure that he wanted to try.
As the morning passed into afternoon and then into an interminable evening, he began to fear that he might not have a choice. His kiss might well have driven her away for good.
Chapter Eight
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Kaylie murmured, pacing the hospital hallway the next morning. She still could not believe what had happened, what she had allowed to happen, the day before. That kiss had made her positively giddy—until she’d realized the implications.
She was not the sort of female that Stephen Gallow seemed accustomed to, and she certainly did not kiss her patients. What he must think of her now! She hadn’t been able to face him after that kiss, and so she’d run. She’d stayed away because he was the last man with whom she ought to be getting involved. Her father, and very likely even her brothers, would disapprove. Why, she disapproved! She’d always assumed she’d find some quiet, bookish fellow with a clear calling to service, something they could share and work at together. Stephen Gallow was so far the opposite of her imagined mate that she couldn’t think why she felt so drawn to him. But drawn to him she was, and so she’d cowardly stayed away.
That had been possible yesterday. The man was in the hospital, after all. Today he was supposed to go home to Chatam House, and that changed everything. Still, Kaylie had prayed long and hard before she’d decided to come here this morning. The inescapable facts were that, no matter how foolishly she had behaved yesterday, she was still a nurse, and he was still her patient. She had an obligation to Stephen Gallow.
Now that she was here, though, she couldn’t bring herself to go into his room—not alone anyway. Thankfully, Craig Philem breezed into the corridor right on schedule.
“Good morning, Kaylie. Ready to take your guy home?”
Her guy. Gulping, Kaylie nodded and waved toward the door, inviting the doctor to go in. Ever the gentleman, however, Craig reached around her and pushed the door open, standing back so she could enter first.
“Kaylie!” Stephen exclaimed, his voice imbued with relief and concern.
Guilt stabbed her. He had been worried about her. She hadn’t expected that. In fact, she’d assumed that he would be angry and petulant. For some reason, she’d rather have faced his anger than his concern. Fearing that he would immediately begin apologizing, explaining or cajoling in front of Craig, she sent him an imploring look, but he didn’t even notice. He was too busy frowning at the doctor.
Craig, thankfully, did not seem to realize that anything might be amiss as he went about checking Stephen’s vital signs. As he did so, Stephen sat quietly in the bed, his gaze on Kaylie. He seemed sad. Alarmed,
she wondered if anything had gone wrong during the night.
“Heartbeat’s a little rapid,” Craig noted, stuffing his stethoscope back into his coat pocket. “You that anxious to get out of here?”
“More than anxious,” Stephen said, looking directly at Kaylie. She couldn’t quite manage to hold his gaze. Hers went skittering to Craig.
“How’d you rest last night?” Craig asked Stephen.
“Well enough, when they let me.”
Craig chuckled. “Yeah, we slap you in here, tell you to rest, then we send the nurses in every couple of hours to hassle you. It’s our way of keeping you from getting too comfortable.”
“No worry on that score,” Stephen muttered.
“You’ll be glad to know, then, that I’m letting you go home.”
“About time,” Stephen said, closing his eyes and sighing.
Craig let them know that the nurse would be in shortly with discharge papers and written care instructions. “Not that you need them with Kaylie on the job. Strictly protocol.”
Kaylie smiled and nodded in acknowledgment of the compliment.
“I’ve been told to ask you, though,” Craig said to Kaylie, “when you might return to pediatrics.” He slid his hands into his coat pockets. “Seems I’m not the only one missing you around here.”
“Oh, I, uh, really couldn’t say,” she stammered. “Dad still depends on me.”
“I thought your father’s condition was stable.”
“Well, yes, but his age and…” She waved a hand ineffectually.
Craig glanced at Stephen, nodding. “Mmm. I see. Other responsibilities.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. On one hand, he seemed to have made a completely erroneous assumption. On the other, he was entirely correct. Suddenly she realized that he was about to leave her alone with Stephen.
Noting that Stephen’s breakfast tray still rested on the rolling bed table, which had been pushed to one side, she rushed to snatch it up, saying, “I’ll just get this out of the way.”
Craig looked at the tray. It had barely been touched. Doctor and nurse spoke at the same time.
“Not eating much.”
“You didn’t drink your coffee.”
Stephen shrugged. “Never found runny eggs and raw bacon appetizing. And that’s not coffee. I think someone accidentally drained their crankcase into my cup.”
“I’m sure Hilda will have something more appetizing for you,” Kaylie told him. “Meanwhile, I’ll run downstairs and get you a decent cup of coffee.” That would keep her busy until the discharge nurse joined them.
Stephen shrugged listlessly again. Newly concerned, Kaylie followed Craig from the room, deposited the tray on the wheeled rack in the hallway and fled downstairs to the cafeteria, where she bought two tall coffees from a specialty vendor, her own disguised with French vanilla flavoring, sweetener and a goodly dose of cream. As shields went, it wouldn’t provide much protection, but she cravenly prayed for distraction, at least, anything to prevent a repeat of yesterday’s lunacy.
To her profound relief and surprise, Aaron Doolin was in the room, along with the nurse, when she returned. Apparently, Stephen had already made his own arrangements for transportation. Kaylie did not mention that they could have called on Chester. He would gladly have brought the aunties’ town car for Stephen’s use.
Stephen accepted the fresh coffee with placid pleasure and set about downing it as activity swirled around him. Kaylie’s own concoction went barely tasted as things moved apace. She listened patiently to the nurse’s discharge instructions, and then Aaron informed her that he called her aunts to let them know to expect Stephen shortly. As Stephen’s legal rep, Aaron signed the papers then helped Stephen dress in loose burgundy sweatpants and a yellow-gold jersey from which Aaron’s wife, Dora, had cut one of the sleeves. Kaylie slipped clean white socks onto Stephen’s feet, marveling again at their size.
Just under an hour later, a nurse wheeled Stephen out to Aaron’s waiting car. Kaylie was stunned to find out that Stephen had instructed Aaron to purchase a wheelchair for his use. That chair was already tucked into the trunk of Aaron’s luxury sedan.
Kaylie saw Stephen settled onto the backseat of Aaron’s car, then followed behind it in her own vehicle. When their little caravan arrived at Chatam House, they found Chester at the side entrance beneath the porte cochere, putting the finishing touches on the old wheelchair ramp that Grandpa Hub had used. Chester had pulled it out of storage and bolted it into place at Aunt Hypatia’s instruction.
The ramp covered the redbrick walkway and steps and extended out onto the drive, forming a small, flat base where the chair could be positioned atop the deep gravel. The wood-and-metal structure needed a fresh coat of white paint, but that did not distract from the colorful beauty of the flowers that frothed beneath its railings and tumbled in brilliant disarray from the enormous terra-cotta pots flanking the bright yellow door with its austere black framing. Spiraling green topiaries stood sentinel next to the mounds of shrubbery that softened the stark, white-painted, quarried stone from which the great house was built.
As Kaylie waited for Aaron and Chester to take the wheelchair from the trunk of the car, she felt the full glory of spring surround her. Air as soft as cotton, sunshine as clear and bright as crystal and temperatures hovering in the seventies combined to sooth the soul. Brilliant green carpeted the expansive lawns of Chatam House, delighting the eye. Kaylie could even see a few small, creamy white blossoms peeking out from the waxy, dark green leaves of the enormous magnolia tree on the west lawn. She wondered if Aunt Mag’s roses were blooming in the arbor on the east side of the house and couldn’t believe that she hadn’t even thought to check as she’d come up the drive earlier. Her thoughts then had been consumed with problems. Yet, here was proof of God’s omniscience and care.
She stood aside and bowed her head, silently praying as Chester and Aaron eased Stephen out of the sedan and got him into the chair.
Forgive me, Father, for wallowing in my own angst. I know that You are with me every moment and that You will show me what to do and what to say if only I am brave enough to pay attention and obey. Help me, then, to help Stephen and, above all, to open his eyes to You. Amen.
She looked up straight into those solemn gray eyes, but Stephen quickly looked away. He had been unusually quiet all morning. In fact, an air of gloom hung over him. He sat silently while Chester attached a support sling to the chair for his broken leg. Troubled, Kaylie lightly touched Stephen’s broad shoulder.
“Are you feeling okay?”
He glanced up, nodded and looked down again. Apprehension shivered through her. She did then what any nurse might have done; she laid her wrist against his forehead to check for a temperature. He jerked back as if she’d burned him. Feeling a tad scorched herself, despite discerning no telltale fever, she tucked her hands behind her.
A moment later, Chester maneuvered the chair around and pushed it up the ramp, remarking how he’d used to do this for old mister Hub senior. Aaron joked that the old fellow probably hadn’t compared size-wise with a polar bear, implying that Stephen did. Stephen’s lack of retort seemed to worry Aaron, who looked askance at Kaylie as he stood aside to allow her to enter the house ahead of him. She could do nothing more than wordlessly share his concern.
The darkness of the back hall embraced them, redolent with the aromas of old wood, beeswax, brick, tea and, unless Kaylie missed her guess, Hilda’s fabulous gingerbread muffins. The old house seemed to take them into its arms, as comforting as one of the aunties’ hugs. As they moved between the vast kitchen, butler’s pantry, formal dining room and back parlor, Kaylie thought, as she often did, of the generations of Chatams who had called this house home over the past century and a half. In addition, this place had provided temporary sanctuary for countless other individuals, Stephen being just the latest.
Why, her cousin Reeves Leland and his adorable moppet Gilli had spent weeks and weeks here this past
winter after discovering that honeybees had invaded the attic of their own place. Reeves had recently married Anna Miranda Burdett. They lived at Burdett House now, a lovely old Victorian just a few blocks away.
The aunties had hosted their wedding reception in the ballroom, and it had been a lovely, poignant, yet somehow lighthearted, affair that had made Kaylie wonder if she would ever know such joy. Conversely, after Reeves’s wedding, her father had become adamant about her being called to remain single. Kaylie had struggled with the idea all along, but never more so than lately. She didn’t even want to think why that might be.
Their group reached the end of the corridor and turned into the west hall, one of a pair that flanked the massive central staircase, which terminated in the south-facing foyer. Chester wheeled Stephen past the ladies’ “withdrawing room”—the gents’ opened onto the east hall between the library and the ballroom—and one of Kaylie’s favorite chambers in the old house, the cloakroom. Though now a storage facility for galoshes, umbrellas and overcoats, Kaylie imagined it filled with everything from fur-lined capes, swirling great coats and top hats to fringed leather suede, ankle-length dusters and cowboy hats. The cloakroom had probably seen them all at one time or another.
Kaylie was not surprised when Chester turned Stephen’s chair into the front parlor. She saw at once that the aunties had subtly shifted the furnishings to make way for the wheelchair. The sling supporting Stephen’s right leg straight out in front of him complicated matters, however, and it took some maneuvering to bring him near the tea tray, especially with all three of the aunties directing traffic. Finally, things were arranged to their mutual satisfaction.
“Thanks,” Stephen murmured to Chester, who nodded and went out.
Hypatia reclaimed her usual wingback chair and directed Aaron to its twin, while Magnolia sank down on one end of the settee and Kaylie assumed a seat next to Stephen on an English mahogany side chair brought forward for the occasion. Odelia, however, continued to hover over Stephen, waving her lacy handkerchief and fluttering the bell-shaped sleeves of the filmy white blouse that she wore with a brown fringed skirt, white moccasin-style loafers and clusters of turquoise beads that dangled almost to her shoulders.