by Gina Wilkins
Stacy and J.P. were called back to be with their son. Stacy planned to spend the night at the hospital while her husband returned home to their other children. Stu convinced his parents to let him drive them home to rest, assuring them they could come back the next morning to be with their grandson. Lingering long enough to tell her parents good-night, Stacy told Shannon, too, that she should leave.
“We’ll be fine here,” she promised. “I know you have a party scheduled for tomorrow. You have to fulfill your responsibility or you’ll get a reputation as being unreliable.”
“The party’s not until tomorrow evening,” Shannon replied, trying not to take offense at being told how to run her business. Her family was in such a habit of “guiding” Shannon, the youngest child, and she’d been resisting their advice more and more during the past couple of years, but tonight was no time to assert her independence. She supposed Stacy needed something normal tonight, even if that was simply micromanaging her younger sister’s affairs.
“I’ll come by tomorrow morning,” she said, giving Stacy a hug. “Don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of time to check on Kyle and get ready for the party. Devin’s off tomorrow, so she can help me.”
“Please don’t hesitate to call if there’s anything I can do for you,” James said to Stacy and J.P. as he made preparations to leave with Shannon. He handed J.P. a card. “My number’s on there. I don’t have many strings to pull around here, just being a student, but I’ll do whatever I can to help if you have any problems or questions.”
“Thanks, James.” J.P. pocketed the card, nodding at Shannon as if in approval of her friend.
Though James had been unable to find a parking space close to Shannon when they had arrived, he insisted on walking her to her car when they left the hospital. The area was well lit and a security guard in a golf-styled cart passed through occasionally, but James said he wasn’t comfortable letting her walk alone through the parking lot at that late hour. Shannon insisted she didn’t need the escort, but he just fell into step beside her, anyway, not even listening to her protests that he didn’t need to walk so far out of his way.
This only served as more proof of those take-charge tendencies she’d worried about, she told herself. Even if his motives were well-intentioned—as her family’s always were—she still disliked the feeling of having her choices dismissed. As if she were a child who needed guiding for her own good.
She knew she was overreacting to his chivalry, even realized that stress and exhaustion were making her overly sensitive, but it still irked.
She pressed her key remote, hearing her car chirp in response as she looked up at James. “Thanks for reassuring my mother this evening. I’m sure the hospital was the last place you wanted to be on a free evening.”
“I wasn’t able to do much to help.”
“Just being there was helpful. The family felt as though they had an interpreter if a medical issue arose that they didn’t understand. You did explain a lot to them about the function of the spleen and what they could expect if Kyle had to lose his.”
He grimaced a little. “I hope I didn’t sound lecturing. Sometimes it’s too easy to fall into teaching mode when people ask me medical questions.”
Was that genuine self-doubt in his voice? If so, it was the first time she’d heard it from him. “You were great. My mother’s ready to adopt you.”
That made his smile warm a few degrees. “I’d almost let her. She really is a lovely woman.”
“She’s a flake.”
He chuckled and she knew he’d heard the fondness in her description. “Maybe a little, which only adds to her appeal.”
A loaded pause followed the comment, and with the way James was looking at her, Shannon couldn’t help wondering what was going through his mind. She had the distinct feeling he was no longer thinking of her mother.
“Drive carefully,” he said, reaching around her to open her car door.
She blinked, then nodded. “You, too. Good night, James.”
He looked from her eyes to her mouth, then back again. “Good night, Shannon.”
He stood where he was and watched her start her car and drive out of the parking lot, as if to make sure she got away safely. Glancing in her rearview mirror as she turned onto the main thoroughfare, she saw him finally turn to walk toward his own parking space.
She lifted one hand off the steering wheel long enough to touch her lips. Why was it that James had not even touched her, and yet she could so vividly imagine how it would feel to have kissed him good-night?
By Sunday, Kyle’s recovery was well underway—so rapidly that the extended family was able to relax and start returning to their own activities. He was expected to remain hospitalized through Wednesday. Shannon wondered if they were keeping him that long mostly to make sure he didn’t reinjure himself during those days. Already he’d tried to escape his hospital bed a couple of times because he wanted to explore the hospital. It was no wonder, Shannon thought with the exasperation of a fond aunt, that her poor brother-in-law claimed Kyle was the cause of his prematurely gray hair.
Shannon walked into the hospital room early Sunday afternoon, carrying an electronic toy she’d picked out to keep Kyle entertained during his recuperation, one he could play with without risk of further injury. The boy lay in his bed, his right leg encased in a cast, his red hair tumbled around his face, which was only a shade paler than usual beneath the freckles. J.P. sat on the narrow bed beside him, and together they were reading the Sunday comics from the newspaper. On the other side of the smallish private room, Stacy and their mother sat in the two provided chairs, while their dad leaned against a wide windowsill, gazing out at the Little Rock skyline.
Perching on the end of the bed, safely out of range of her nephew’s injured leg, Shannon chatted with her family, learning that Kyle’s siblings were spending the day with their uncle Stu and aunt Karen, and that a doctor had been in earlier to inform them that Kyle was making very good progress in his recovery. He was still on track for release in a few days, though it would be another couple of weeks before he’d be cleared to return to school.
“I get a vacation!” Kyle crowed.
His dad leveled a look at him. “Hardly. Your teacher is going to send your work home and your mother and I are going to make sure you don’t fall behind.”
Kyle heaved a sigh and made an attempt to look pitiful. “But I’m hurt.”
“Not so hurt you couldn’t beat me at that video game earlier,” J.P. retorted, nodding toward the television and gaming system set up in the well-equipped room. “If you’re up to racing virtual go-carts, you can do your math and spelling assignments.”
Probably knowing that was a discussion he couldn’t win, Kyle buried his face in the comics again.
After tapping lightly on the door to announce his arrival, James opened it and peeked in. “Hello. How’s the patient today?”
Shannon hoped her family had no way of telling that her pulse rate had just increased at the sight of James’s handsome face. Glancing surreptitiously around, she decided in relief and bemusement that they were all too busy being delighted to see him themselves to pay much attention to her. Everyone smiled at him in warm welcome, urging him to come in and visit with them.
She knew he’d been by the day before to check on Kyle, though his visit had not coincided with her own. The family had seemed so pleased by his gesture that one would have thought a celebrity had taken time to visit.
He greeted the others, received a disjointed update on Kyle’s condition from parents and grandparents, then turned toward Shannon. “How did your party go yesterday?”
He was the first one to ask. It wasn’t that the others didn’t care about her business, she assured herself. They were simply preoccupied with Kyle—as they should be. “It went very well, thanks for asking. A dozen six-year-olds at a party with a paleontology theme. I had them dig in boxes of dirt for plastic dinosaur bones, make their own fossil rocks with plaster and play
pin the tail on the Brachiosaurus. They ate ‘dirt cake’ made of chocolate wafer cookies and pudding with gummy dinosaurs on top, and drank ‘swamp water,’ which was just green-tinted fruit punch. The party hats were plastic pith helmets, and all the party favors were dinosaur-themed. They had a great time, I think.”
“That sounds like fun, Aunt Shannon,” Kyle said enviously. “I want a dinosaur party.”
Stacy lifted an eyebrow. “I thought you said you wanted a superhero party. Or a race-car-driver party.”
“I want them all,” Kyle agreed with a grin. “You do cool parties, Aunt Shannon.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” Shannon smiled, then glanced at her watch, suddenly remembering something. “We have those tickets to the play tonight, Stacy. Are you still planning to go with me?”
Stacy wrinkled her nose. “No, I’m just not in the mood to night, sorry. Maybe Mom would like to use my ticket?”
Their mother shook her head. “Oh, no, I’m much too tired for tonight.”
Shannon nodded, figuring she’d have to forfeit the tickets this time, since she couldn’t think of anyone else to ask on such short notice. She didn’t blame her family for begging off—it had certainly been an exhausting weekend.
“Maybe James can go with you,” her mother suggested brightly, looking delighted to have come up with the spur-of-the-moment idea.
“Uh—”
“That would be nice,” Stacy agreed, looking eagerly from Shannon to James and back again. “You’d be welcome to my ticket, James, if you’re available this evening. You do like dinner theater, don’t you?”
“I’m sure James has other plans for tonight, you two,” Shannon said repressively. “He’s a busy man.”
“Actually, I don’t have plans for tonight,” James corrected rather quickly. “I was just planning to stay in and read, but I’d be happy to accompany you to the play, so your tickets don’t have to go to waste.”
“They were free, anyway,” she said with a slight shrug, self-conscious at having all eyes on her then. “A friend gave them to me when she had a chance to go on a cruise this week instead.”
“All the more reason you should get to enjoy them,” he replied promptly.
“There you go, honey. James will go with you, so you don’t have to miss the play.” Her mother looked as though she were mentally patting her own back for making this happen. “I’m sure you’ll both have a lovely time.”
Looking from her family’s smug smiles to James’s rather amused expression, Shannon told herself this was probably her own fault. She should have kept her mouth shut about the play.
Chapter Seven
It was after ten when James drove Shannon home from the dinner theater that night. She had suggested they meet at the theater, but he’d gently overridden her that time. It was much more efficient to share a car, he’d pointed out, deciding he’d have better luck with that argument than to voice concerns about her safety leaving the theater well after dark. She had conceded without argument, but he could tell she didn’t entirely buy his reasoning.
He had to be at the hospital in less than eight hours, but he was in no hurry to leave her. He’d had a good time with her that evening—as he always did—even though she’d been pretty much railroaded by her family into accepting his company.
It had occurred to him during the evening that his parents would have hated every minute of the outing. The food at the theater had been buffet-style, simple meats and veggies and casseroles aimed to please a variety of tastes, especially the middle-aged and senior citizens who seemed to make up the majority of the patrons. He and Shannon had definitely been among the younger diners. The play that had followed dinner had been a rather silly comedy, and the actors, while talented, had played their parts broadly with frequent winks toward the laughing audience.
“I was surprised you’d never seen that play before,” Shannon commented as he turned the car into her driveway. “It’s been done by a zillion community theaters and touring productions, and it was made into a 1950s movie musical.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d expressed surprise that he’d been unfamiliar with the lightweight comedy. “Have you not seen many plays?” she asked, still trying to ferret out the reason.
He shrugged as he put the gear shift into Park. “Yes, quite a few, actually. My parents made sure we attended the theater occasionally while I was growing up. But they wouldn’t have appreciated that play. They favored heavily intellectual, metaphorical plays—the bleaker, the better. They hated musicals and were generally disdainful of comedies.”
“Ouch. So you were watching Chekov plays as a child?”
“When my parents were in the mood for lighter fare,” he answered with a wry chuckle.
“So they placed no value at all on occasional escapism? On simple entertainment?”
“According to Professor Bruce Stillman, Ph.D, contemporary entertainment is nothing more than mental thumb-sucking for lazy adults. They don’t own a television and their very extensive library is filled with classics and obscure literary tomes. My dad insists the only good fiction is the kind that illuminates, dissects and evaluates. A happy ending is never a sign of quality writing, at least in his exalted opinion.”
“Boy, he’d hate my extensive collection of mysteries and romantic-suspense paperbacks.”
James chuckled. “Yes, he would. He doesn’t know I’ve become a connoisseur of mysteries and thrillers in the past couple of years. I even watch an occasional scripted television program, though trying to keep up with med-school studies doesn’t give me a lot of time to watch TV. My friend Ron has been introducing me to the pleasures of science-fiction films. He’s hooked on them.”
“So the play tonight must have seemed really silly to you. And the food was hardly gourmet…”
“I had a great time tonight,” he interrupted firmly when she seemed to be apologizing for the evening’s entertainment. “And I was watching the other people in the theater with us. Some of those older audience members were laughing so hard they were having to wipe tears from their eyes. Unlike my father, I see nothing wrong with people escaping their problems for a few hours to enjoy laughing with their friends. Since I’ve become close to my study-group friends, I’ve learned to appreciate the value of laughter to mitigate stress and anxiety.”
“To mitigate stress and anxiety?” she repeated in a murmur.
He frowned, not quite certain how to interpret her tone.
Maybe he’d told her too much. He didn’t usually share so many details about his childhood with his pedantic parents. He certainly hadn’t been angling for sympathy—he’d told her before that his past had been one of privilege, certainly not deserving of pity. Instead, he’d wanted to give her a little glimpse into his past so she could understand him a little better, something that was becoming increasingly important to him.
He really was lousy at this communication thing, he thought glumly.
She reached for the bag sitting by her feet. “It’s getting late and I know you have to work early.”
He glanced at the house, which was dark except for one dim light shining through what he assumed was the living room window. “Has your housemate already gone to bed?”
“No, Devin’s working tonight. We usually try to leave enough lights on to make people think someone’s home. Guess she forgot tonight. She runs late sometimes and gets kind of scatterbrained.”
He reached for his door handle. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“That’s not—”
He was already sliding out of the car. He knew Shannon didn’t like to be overruled, but he wanted to make sure no one was lurking in the bushes or waiting inside the darkened house, paranoid though that sounded. His father would probably attribute his heightened imagination to the thrillers he’d been reading lately. Remembering one particularly gruesome scene he’d read only a couple nights before, he moved closer to Shannon as she dug in her purse for her door keys.
She unlocked he
r door by the illumination of the softly glowing porch light, then turned to him with lifted eyebrows. “Okay, I’m safely home. Are you satisfied?”
He glanced down at her with a faint smile. “Not by a long shot.”
Her lashes lowered, then swept back up so that she met his gaze squarely. “I’m not inviting you in. This time.”
“I didn’t expect you to,” he replied equably, though he made note of her addendum. He liked the possibility that there would be a next time—and that there was a chance it would end a bit differently than this one.
“I like being with you, James. You…intrigue me.”
“I thought you said I made you nervous. And wary.”
“All of the above,” she replied, sounding amused. “Which makes it even more interesting spending time with you.”
Taking encouragement from her smile, he leaned his head toward hers. “I enjoy being with you, too, Shannon.”
She planted a hand on his chest, holding him an inch away from making contact with her lips. “Just so you know…I’m not looking for anything long-term. I’m not interested in that right now. After two failed relationships before I even turned twenty-five, I want to concentrate on just leading my own life for a while.”
He nodded. “I got that idea, already. And I’m not planning to disrupt your life. After all, I’ll be out of the state for two of the last three months of this year, then leaving again in May to pursue a six-year residency.”
“So you’re just looking to have a little fun while you finish your last year of school?”
He wouldn’t have put it that way, exactly, but he supposed it was close enough. “Sure.”