Husband: Some Assembly Required

by Marie Ferrarella

  As promised, he felt nothing as photo after photo was taken of his cranium. Nothing except restless and apprehensive, as if he were in a lighthouse tower, waiting for a storm to hit.

  When it was over he couldn’t get up fast enough. The best part was that Shawna was sitting on the sofa in the outer room waiting for him when he emerged.

  Shawna rose as soon as he walked through the parted electronic doors. The vicarious tension she felt refused to slip completely away. “See, painless.”

  It might have been painless, but he still didn’t like being subjected to it. He left the room quickly. “Now I know what a hot dog feels like, lying in a bun and wrapped in aluminum foil.”

  She had to stride quickly to stay abreast of him. “Very colorful.”

  It took less time to retrace his steps to the hospital entrance than it had to reach the imaging department to begin with. He took a deep breath of the evening air. It felt good.

  So did having her stand next to him. “I’m just glad I’m not claustrophobic.”

  He probably didn’t realize what a problem that presented with some patients. “We can be grateful for small favors.”

  Now that it was over, he was reluctant to return home. Instead, he stood there, letting his senses enjoy the small things, like the sound of crickets calling to each other.

  Like watching the lights from the hospital play off her hair. There were too many things left to see. Too many things he’d always want to see. “Okay, how soon will we know anything?”

  Most patients said “I,” not “we.” She didn’t know if she liked being lumped together with him this way. Distance was always best, but in his case it somehow kept slipping from her. “I’ve put a rush on it. I should have the results before noon tomorrow.”

  He wanted them sooner. And never.

  “I can swing by your office around lunchtime.” Murphy looked at her and decided to make the best of the situation. “Maybe I can take you out for a bite to eat.” He saw the protest forming before it ever emerged. “You do eat, don’t you?”

  She was quick to dismiss the invitation. “On occasion, but since I really don’t want you driving, I’d much rather someone brought you by.” Turning, she began to walk toward her car.

  Murphy caught up to her in two strides. “Three on a date is awkward.”

  She stopped and he bumped into her. On purpose, she thought. “Murphy, this is getting tiresome.”

  He was more than ready to agree. “I know.” He could see suspicion rising in her eyes. “Say yes and I’ll stop.”

  She had no idea what possessed her to play along. “All right, yes.” She deactivated the security alarm and unlocked the car.

  “Great. When?”

  She swung around to look at him. “I thought you were going to stop if I said yes.”

  The expression on his face was boyish and yet unnervingly sensual at the same time. She felt its effects before she could set up proper barriers against it. For a moment she felt just the way she had in high school.

  But she wasn’t in high school, she reminded herself. And hadn’t been for a long time.

  “I lied.” He wanted to put his arm around her shoulder, to pull her close to him. There was something about her that made him feel safe. Comforted. But he knew he would scare her off if he made any moves. “Besides, now we have to decide on the particulars.” He smiled at her. “I am a nice guy, you know.”

  Something stirred. Something that had to be kept dormant. “Yes, I suppose you are, but I’m not in the market for a nice guy.”

  That was her divorce talking, he guessed. He wasn’t in the market for anything permanent, either. But a pleasant evening or two in the right company held a definite attraction. “In that case, I could give being a rogue a shot. Just don’t ask me to burn, pillage or plunder. I haven’t done that since college.”

  She really didn’t want to laugh, but she couldn’t help it. He made it too difficult to resist. “Let’s just get through this, all right?”

  By “this,” he knew she meant the test. He folded his arms and leaned gingerly against the car. “I’d really rather have something else to think about besides my medical condition, whatever that might turn out to be.”

  She could sympathize with that, with needing something to take your mind off what was bothering you. “Don’t you have cases to work on?”

  Work couldn’t be all she thought about, Murphy reasoned. She was far too young to bury herself like that. “All work and no play...”

  Suddenly Shawna was too aware of standing beside him. Of his breath against her face when he spoke.

  Shawna turned away. “I’ve forgotten how to play.”

  He wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily. “All the more reason to go out with me. I’m offering a refresher course.”

  Shawna could almost feel herself being reeled in. Like a prize fish. “You are incorrigible.”

  He wondered if it was unethical to kiss his eye doctor in the hospital parking lot. He knew he wanted to. “I’m also inevitable, like the tide.”

  She placed a hand against his chest, just in case he was getting any ideas. “Well, ebb out for a while and I’ll get back to you. Now get into the car and let me take you home.”

  Since she was getting into the car, he had no choice but to do likewise. “If I do, will you promise to have your way with me?”

  Shawna didn’t know if it was the man, the moonlight or the mood. Whatever it was, she couldn’t help herself. She began to laugh, completely and without restraint. When she finally stopped, she had to admit it had felt good, despite the silliness that had prompted it.

  “My way with you,” she managed to say, drawing in air as she started up the car, “would be very boring.”

  He had a feeling she wasn’t giving herself enough credit. In any event, he wanted to discover that for himself.

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” He paused, wondering what would set her at ease. The more he was around her, the more he wanted to get to know her. Kelly, he mused, would definitely approve. She always had something disparaging to say about the women he brought to family gatherings, usually murmuring something to the effect that they had IQs that would make a pair of shoes seem intelligent.

  That certainly wasn’t the way with Shawna.

  “Do you remember Thomas Sheridan?” he asked suddenly as they left the parking lot. “You know, the man who came to pick me up at the hospital.”

  “Yes.” That had come out of the blue, she thought, wondering where he was going with this.

  Murphy was easing into this slowly. “He married my sister, Kelly. They have a little girl now.”

  And I had a little boy, once, Shawna thought as a sudden pang rose up and seized her.

  He sensed the change in her and hurried on. “Anyway, they’re having a birthday party for her, and I was wondering if you’d like to come.”

  She didn’t mingle well. “I don’t—”

  “You’ll be safe,” he promised, guessing at the source of her reluctance. “I’ll be doomed to remain on my best behavior.” He could just make out her skeptical look. “My mother will be there.”

  Mother. “I can’t. My mother’s coming to town.” Although when was anyone’s guess, he didn’t have to know that.

  Murphy remained undaunted. “Great, bring her along.”

  That was like asking her to bring her own personal natural disaster. Her mother flirted with every male she encountered under the age of ninety, though she preferred them young. “My mother’s not the type you bring along to family parties.” It would be like bringing Auntie Mame into a monastery.

  “Why?” It was an innocently posed question. “Does she chew with her mouth open?”

  Laughter had vanished from her life more than a year ago. It felt odd having it make a reappearance so abruptly. Yet he had made her laugh three times in the space of an evening, each time more than the last. “No, she doesn’t chew with her mouth open. Murphy, I can’t laugh and driv
e at the same time.”

  He placed his hand on the wheel to steady it. “Then stop driving. I think you need to laugh.”

  She didn’t like being analyzed, especially not when it hit the mark so well. It made her feel vulnerable. “I think I need to get you home.”

  His smile blossomed. “My sentiments exactly.”

  She could see exactly what he was thinking. “Your home. Alone. In the shower, with the water on cold.” She put in as many qualifiers as she thought were necessary. “Maybe frigid.”

  Her reluctance goaded him on, but there was no sense in pushing the matter right now. He surrendered. Temporarily. “You’re behind the wheel.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  And she most definitely intended to remain that way. Behind the wheel and plotting her own course. While it was tempting, driving down the path that Murphy was suggesting so persistently could only lead to problems.

  She didn’t need any more of those. She had accumulated more than her share as it was.

  Chapter Six

  The traffic along Newport Boulevard and the Newport Freeway had lightened considerably. It took Shawna almost no time to drive back to Murphy’s development.

  A pang of regret wafted across her. She dismissed it the next moment.

  She turned to Murphy as she guided her car down the main thoroughfare. He hadn’t said very much on the way back. Suddenly she became concerned. “Are you feeling light-headed?”

  Murphy had been pensively examining his options, dealing with the hoary what-if scenario. What if the M.R.I. showed that he had a blood clot and he had to have an operation? Or possibly something worse? He willingly abandoned that terrain. “Yes, but only because you’re near me.”

  And here she was being worried. “I know that was meant to be charming, and perhaps in a different context, it might be.” She saw the ready grin curve his mouth. He was clearly aware of his effect on women. “But I’m asking as your doctor.”

  She was making that infinitely clear. “As your patient, the answer, actually, is no.” Though he was being guardedly optimistic, he went a little farther for her benefit. “Whatever I was experiencing earlier, it seems to have subsided.” Murphy shrugged. “Maybe I overreacted before.”

  Maybe, but she doubted it. “Hang on to your optimism until we get the results in. Maybe it’ll prove you right.”

  She just missed the light. A single red eye glared down at her as she came to a halt before the crosswalk. The man on the radio was playing up the joys of new car ownership. She switched to another station.

  He was looking at her, she could feel it. Shawna refused to turn her head.

  She had a regal profile, Murphy thought, fine boned and delicate. He felt an urge to lightly run his fingertips along her face, much the way a sculptor did when he was caressing his finished product.

  “Now can I answer as something other than your patient?”

  Her hands tightened a little on the steering wheel as she turned into the development. She had a feeling she knew exactly what was coming. “No.”

  Shifting in his seat so that he could look at her more easily, he studied her expression. It gave nothing away. “Why?”

  She made it a point not to begin something she had no intention of finishing. “I’m really not interested.”

  He wondered if she meant that, or just thought she did. “In me or in friendship in general?”

  She glanced in his direction, skeptical, “Is that what you’re offering? Friendship?”

  He had to admit that he had something different in mind, but there was something about her that was drawing him out on a number of levels. He liked her company.

  “Under the circumstances, yes. Thomas tells me that, on occasion, I make a very good friend.” He leaned a little closer toward her. The seat belt dug into his shoulder. “Or is the position already filled?”

  No, it wasn’t filled. She had no friends, no time for friends. Friendships took energy to cultivate, and all of hers went toward her patients. And to surviving. “I’m too busy.”

  That was a load of freshly cultivated fertilizer, he thought. Everyone needed a friend, someone to talk to. “Too busy for friends?”

  The pace she forced herself to keep up was almost breakneck. “Too busy for breathing, actually.”

  He was beginning to believe her. Which was a shame. “Very necessary thing, breathing. You should keep it up.” His expression grew serious. “So’s friendship. Necessary, I mean.” Murphy paused, weighing his next words and the wisdom behind uttering them. But he sensed distress beneath the surface layer and he was a sucker for a damsel in distress. “Is it because of your divorce?”

  She was just picking up the hand brake. She jerked it as she turned to stare at him. “What divorce?”

  Was she trying to keep it a secret, or had he just made a twenty-four-karat, gold-plated mistake?

  “I just assumed...I saw the photograph on your desk and the fact that you weren’t wearing a ring...” He licked his lips and came to a skidding halt. “I’m putting my foot in my mouth, aren’t I?”

  He looked so sincerely contrite she couldn’t readily fault him.

  “I’d say you were going in for a second helping.” She might as well tell him. Shawna had a feeling that Murphy would find out soon enough. “I’m a widow.” Why did that hurt so much every time she said it? She would have thought she’d have gotten used to it by now. “My wedding ring is buried with my husband.”

  Well, he’d certainly made a mess of that. “I’m sorry. Really sorry.” His expression was compassionate. “If you need a shoulder to cry on...”

  He meant it. He wasn’t just paying lip service to a line. But it didn’t change anything. This was something she kept under lock and key. Something she didn’t talk about. To anyone. “I don’t cry anymore.”

  Ordinarily, that would have meant that she had gotten over the initial impact. But he doubted it. There was something in her manner that indicated otherwise. He knew the signs. She was very much not over it.

  “Well, if you do need a shoulder, mine are both wide.” Murphy paused, trying to find some way to smooth over his unintentional mistake. She had come to his aid and he’d just raked over her heart with a rusty nail. “That boy in the photograph, is he your son?”

  The sadness that rose into her eyes was overwhelmingly evident, even in the dark.

  “He was,” she whispered.

  Maybe he should just tape his mouth shut. “I can’t make this any worse, can I?”

  He was obviously upset about bringing up such a painful subject for her. She was moved to try to alleviate his feelings.

  “You might find a way.” Shawna smiled and placed her hand over his. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault, Murphy. You didn’t know.”

  That still didn’t negate the fact that he had brought the subject up and hurt her. “How long ago did it happen?”

  She’d never talked about it, not to anyone. Not even to her mother. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to talk about it now.

  Yet, somehow, as she sat there beside him in the encroaching darkness, she suddenly needed to. It had been bottled up inside her for so long she thought it was going to explode. And take her with it.

  “A year ago. Eighteen months, actually,” Shawna amended after a beat.

  She spoke so softly he had to strain to hear her. “Accident?”

  The nod was almost imperceptible. “Car.” The single word clogged her throat.

  Shawna knotted her hands in her lap and looked down at them. Her voice floated from her as if it was disembodied, as if someone else was forcing the words out.

  “We were driving home from a vacation. Doug hates—hated,” she corrected, still having trouble thinking of him in the past tense, “to drive, so I was the one behind the wheel.”

  She was knotting her hands so tightly Murphy was surprised her fingers didn’t break. He reached over and placed his hand over hers, silently urging her on.

  She could almost feel
his strength seeping into her, comforting her. It helped her continue.

  “It was a produce truck, going a little too fast around a curve. Or maybe much too fast. The police said he’d been drinking.” She took in a breath, bracing herself against the image that came to her mind. “I swerved to get out of the way and careened into a ditch.” She shrugged helplessly. The blame was heavy in her voice. “I hit my head and passed out. Someone called the paramedics. They said that Doug was killed instantly.” She swallowed. The lump in her throat threatened to choke her. It refused to subside.

  Shawna closed her eyes, pushing tears back. They gathered anyway, seeping through her lashes and falling down her cheeks.

  “Bobby died in the hospital before I regained consciousness. He died alone.” She would always regret that. That she hadn’t been there to hold him, to tell her son one last time that she loved him. “My little boy died alone.”

  Once the tears began, she couldn’t stop them.

  The stick shift was between them, but it seemed like a flimsy barrier in the face of her grief. As gently as if he were taking a baby into his arms, Murphy drew Shawna to him and held her while she cried.

  The sobs racked her body. She cried for all the times she hadn’t. For the awful, horrible waste and for the guilt that ate away at her like the slow drip of a battery’s acid.

  She cried for a long time.

  Murphy murmured soft words that Shawna couldn’t quite make out and stroked her hair. And held her until she was empty.

  Shawna straightened slowly, rubbing away the last of her tears with the heel of her hand. A slight blush of embarrassment colored her cheeks. She took a deep breath, struggling to get herself under control. Composure was still some way off.

  “I’m sorry, I have no idea what came over me.” She exhaled a ragged sigh. One moment she had been fine, the next moment she’d been a puddle of tears.

  Though he loosened his hold, he didn’t release her. He wasn’t quite ready yet. It felt good to hold her, even though he would have preferred it to be under different circumstances.

  “They call it being human.” His voice was low, soothing. Comforting. “I’ve only seen it at a distance myself, but I know for a fact that it exists.”