“So you’d better behave yourself. I can give as much as I get, Jake. Now, eat something. We’re going out as soon as you finish.”
Lauren took her coffee cup and scooted out of the kitchen. She made it up the stairs and into her room before her courage gave way. Letting out a long breath, she leaned against the closed door, and took long, calming breaths. She’d never spoken so candidly in her life. She wondered what was to come. Would Jake really make her life miserable?
He’d been different in the restaurant, but that was before she’d been sharing his life and his space. She would be staying in the apartment. The apartment was large enough for them to avoid each other, if he so chose, but as his companion she needed to interact with him. And he needed to interact with other people, as well. Her living here was convenient for her, too, as the couple she’d sold her brownstone to wanted possession as soon as possible.
Knowing that Jake was in pain and knowing that he really needed someone he could trust while Caleb was away. Lauren had to stay. He’d be abusive at first. She was sure of that. He was angry and she would get the backlash. Before coming here, she’d talked with a psychologist friend and told her what she planned to do without revealing the name of her... She hesitated. Could she call him a patient? She shook her head. She couldn’t think of him as a patient. If she did, she might unintentionally refer to him that way.
Quickly, she unpacked her belongings and put them away. She didn’t bring much. Everything she hadn’t gotten rid of from the brownstone was in a storage unit, accessible, but not without inconvenience. Jake should have had enough time by now to get ready to go out. She hadn’t decided where they were going when she issued the order. It was designed for one purpose—to let him know she wasn’t going to be his doormat.
He was waiting in the living room when she came down the stairs.
“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice both gruff and challenging.
“For a walk in the park.”
“Why?”
“You need the exercise.”
“And you know this how?” he asked.
“When I bumped into you, you were so thin, I’m amazed you weren’t the one on the ground.”
“And you decided my welfare is now your responsibility?”
“I’m not here as one of your doctors.” She had to remind herself as well as him. “But walking will give us time to talk, get to know each other, lessen some of the tension between us.”
He eyed her keenly. She wondered if he was thinking again about how pushy she was. The thought made her feel powerful. She wasn’t aggressive by nature, but she would allow herself to be pushed only so far before she pushed back. And Jake Masters was used to doing the pushing.
Not today, she told herself.
* * *
WHAT SHOULD HE FEEL? Jake asked himself. It had been so long since he’d felt anything but anger. And into his life plunges Lauren Peterson. If he wasn’t so opposed to her intervention, he’d find the situation funny. Especially now that he was sitting and waiting for her, showered and dressed as she’d ordered.
It was ironic, he told himself. If Cal was here they’d both laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Jake had asked for Lauren. He had no idea she would be ordering him around.
He’d read the report Cal had left with him. She was an elementary school teacher. There was nothing else in the report that was of any interest. He didn’t know exactly when she planned to leave the city, but since it was summer, school was not in session.
He heard the door open upstairs and looked up. The sun hit her and for a second his breath caught. Red highlights added a glow around her dark brown hair. He knew that color, knew another woman with hair the sun highlighted just like that. She’d been his first love—Pamela Bailey. He’d looked across his tenth grade classroom and saw the sun shining through Pamela’s hair. Jake hadn’t thought of her in years. What was happening to him? He was never usually this nostalgic.
Lauren was already on her way down the stairs and he followed her movements. She was taller than the average height for a woman, maybe five feet seven or eight. She wore pants that made her legs look as long as the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. Her steps were measured and unhurried, making her appear regal. Definitely not the walk of any teacher he’d ever known.
“Are you in any pain?” she asked when she stood in front of him.
Jake hadn’t thought of his pain since she accosted him in his bedroom. “I’m all right,” he responded.
“Sit down and let me massage your arm before we leave.”
“I thought you weren’t here as a therapist.”
“I’m not.” She smiled. “But if you’re in pain, you can let me help or you can suffer in silence.”
He gave her a long look, but eventually sat down. She began to knead his arm, beginning at his shoulder. Jake allowed her touch to see if she could perform the same magic as the previous time. It was working. He could feel the warmth of her fingers.
“Are you sure you’re not trained in this?”
“I’m self-trained,” she told him.
“Self-trained? What does that mean?”
She waited a long moment. He felt her hesitate, then slightly ease the pressure of her hands. When she spoke, her voice was laced with suppressed emotion. “My mother suffered from severe migraine headaches and arthritis pain. I used to give her a massage every day.”
“Every day?”
“It helped her.”
She moved from his shoulder farther down his arm. Jake wore a short-sleeved shirt and her bare hands were on his bare arm. Heat penetrated his skin, seeping deep into his muscles and relaxing the tension. He wondered what she thought of his immobile limb. Had Cal told her anything about his medical history? What he’d been through? Would she understand?
“How does that feel?” she asked when she’d finished and stood back.
“Fine,” he said. Jake held back how good it felt. He refused to let her know that he wanted her to massage his arm any time he was in pain. He hated being dependent on people. He’d agreed to allow her to be his companion while Cal was away, just to get Cal off his back, but now he thought she could do more.
As long as she didn’t interrupt his life. He’d have to have her agree to a few boundaries, if he could get a word in.
“Did the doctors find a treatment for her pain?” he asked.
“She died five years ago.”
He turned to look at her. He could see why Cal had chosen her as his companion. She’d obviously gained good experience caring for her mother. Jake wanted to say something to ease her pain, but knew there was nothing that was appropriate or even wanted. All the platitudes that people came up with only made the person feel worse.
“I miss her. We had a wonderful relationship and I never minded giving her massages. It gave us time to talk and tell stories. I was her companion and caretaker.”
Jake envied her the obvious love she had for her mother. He understood that love. His mother was the reason he’d gone into medicine. He’d followed in her footsteps and they were big shoes to fill.
“What does your mother do?” she asked.
“She worked as a nurse for years and now runs a nursing program at a university in Pennsylvania. My father teaches math at the same school.”
“Do you see them often?”
“Not as often as they would like. Cal goes to see them more than I do.”
“Why is that? You can’t say it’s your arm, since you can still walk and talk and I’m sure you can drive, even if you don’t want to.”
“Even before my arm, I traveled a lot or was seldom available except for holidays that might also be interrupted on a moment’s notice.”
“And now? It doesn’t take both hands to pick up a phone.”
“I call occasionally.”
Jake was getting t
ired of her constantly mentioning his arm. He was so used to people doing their best to avoid the issue.
“Why don’t we go for that walk you mentioned?” Maybe walking would give her something else to focus on.
And him too, because those auburn highlights kept sending his mind back to the days before the accident when he had his whole life before him. Now look at him. He glanced at his right arm. He used to go into operating rooms and save lives.
That was before he became useless.
* * *
THEY LEFT THE building through the arched doorway of the majestic Dakota apartment building on Central Park West. Jake wore a sling supporting his right arm. It was a short walk across the street to the park’s entrance. Like most New Yorkers, Lauren crossed the street when there was a break in traffic, ignoring signal lights and taking her life into her own hands. Lauren stepped off the curb only to be pulled back by Jake.
A car rounded the corner and would have hit her.
“You’re supposed to be my caretaker,” he said. “Not the other way around.”
“Companion. I am not a caretaker. That’s a job I did not sign up for.”
They crossed when the light turned green and entered the park. The temperature was warm, yet pleasant, and for a while they walked without talking. Lauren was comfortable with the silence. The park was full of people. Children were playing on the vast lawn. There were tables where people sat playing board games and other places where a long curved bench ran the length of a fence. People sat there reading books or using their personal phones.
Lauren smiled as she and Jake passed by.
“It’s been a long time since I walked in the park,” she said.
Jake made a hmm noise that indicated he concurred. She wondered if he was warming up to her. The tension from the apartment seemed to have been left behind.
“Do you like parks?” she asked.
“Twenty questions again?”
“Just making conversation.” She wanted to know more about him. “I take it you’re a stick-to-the-subject type of guy.” She huffed and used her arms to take a macho stance.
He laughed.
“That’s the first time you’ve laughed since I met you.”
He immediately dropped his head and his expression reverted to a stoic mask.
She couldn’t resist. “Once it’s broken, let the pieces fall away,” she said.
“What?”
“You’ve smiled. The pieces that were holding your face in a scowl are gone.” She imitated the cross way he looked. “You’re much handsomer when you smile.”
He stopped walking and stared at her. “Don’t flirt with me.”
“Flirt?” she said, honestly surprised. “I’m not flirting with you. If I were, I’d know it and so would you.”
Tension returned between them.
After a few minutes walking in silence, Lauren slipped her arm through Jake’s left one. He jerked at first. She knew he wasn’t used to being touched. He probably thought people didn’t want to touch him. She didn’t let go, and pulled him along when he tried to stop.
“Not flirting,” she said. When he didn’t pull free of her, she decided to take another plunge. “Tell me about the accident.”
“What?”
“Too soon?” she asked.
“Are you just nosy?”
She shook her head. “I think of it as getting to know you, knowing what happened and not having any subjects that are off-limits.”
“Most people do this over time. You’re trying to learn everything in one large information dump.”
She laughed, still holding his arm. “Why wait? If there is a lot to know, getting it all at once could prevent me from stepping on your toes in the future.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” Jake said.
“I’m sure you do,” she contradicted. “So why don’t we start with the arm?”
She knew he didn’t want to tell her about his accident. Maybe if she started with a lesser question, she could coax him into opening up.
“What did Cal tell you?” he said just as she was about to ask another question.
“That you were a surgeon and because of an accident a few years ago you can no longer move your right hand or arm.” That hadn’t been all Caleb had said, but Lauren wanted Jake to tell her his version.
“I was at a medical conference in France. It was made up mainly of trauma surgeons. During a break, a few of us were heading for lunch at a local restaurant. Just before we got there...” He stopped talking and walking. Jake took a step away from her, their linked arms dropping in the process.
Lauren knew he was reliving the trauma. She could almost feel the lump in his throat. She wanted to give him some instructions on how to stop the memory, but she couldn’t. She’d already told him why she knew how to massage as well as she did. That was the truth, but advising him on how to calm the memories of a trauma could tip him off that she knew more about medicine than a kindergarten teacher should.
After a moment, he resumed his story. “Terrorists happened next. A car plowed into a group of people on the street and detonated a bomb. I was one of the lucky ones. The concussion wave threw me against a building. The crush of bodies pinned me there until I couldn’t breathe. When I woke, I was in a hospital. My shoulder and three ribs were broken. All have healed, except my arm.” He looked down at the immobile limb.
“And you’ve been to a lot of doctors?”
“The best in the world,” he said sardonically. “Cal saw to that, but no matter what they say, I still can’t move my arm.”
“It’s not permanently injured?”
He looked her directly in the eyes. For a second his gaze showed vulnerability. He was afraid. The air around them seemed to change. It softened just as his eyes had.
“I don’t know.” His voice was barely louder than a whisper.
Lauren held his gaze although she wanted to look away. I don’t know. He sounded like he could see into the future and that his arm would remain as it was today: in a sling against his shirt, without strength, mobility or usefulness.
The atmosphere turned maudlin and Lauren searched for a way to change it. She stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his arm.
“You resisted giving me a cliché when I told you about my mother,” she said. “Allow me to return the favor.”
His head dropped down a fraction.
“I won’t say your arm will be better in the future, but...” She paused, knowing her next words could make the situation go either way. “It’s not the end of your world, is it?”
“I’m a surgeon.” His voice carried. Looking around, he checked to see if anyone noticed. No one paid any attention to them.
“I know you’re a surgeon and you spent a lot of years in school honing your skills but there are other things you can do.”
“Like what?”
“Teach,” she said.
“This coming from a kindergarten teacher.”
“Don’t knock it. A lot of people taught you and I’m sure you credit at least one of them with helping you become a talented surgeon.”
He said nothing, yet a perplexed expression crossed his face. Lauren went on. “You could write.”
“With one hand.”
“If necessary, but you could use a voice recognition program and hire an editor to make it readable.”
“You don’t think I can write?”
Lauren wondered if Jake was entertaining thoughts that he might do something else. His knowledge was still there. His dexterity might be impaired, but his mind was sharp. Of that she could attest.
“Most doctors can’t. All they write are prescriptions.”
“What would I write about?”
“Is that a trick question?” Lauren glared at him as if he was baiting her. Assuming that
he wasn’t, she answered. “You’re a doctor. Write about medicine. Or write about your arm.”
“A journal?”
“You could start with a journal and graduate to full books. Of course, a journal is personal. Writing one might help you.”
“Do you keep a journal?”
“Not now,” she said slowly.
“But in the past?” He left the sentence hanging.
“I did once.” This time her voice was barely audible. “For a long time.”
“Why?”
“Listen, I know from where I speak.” She stopped him from delving into her life. She was his companion. He was not hers.
“I’ll think about it,” he finally said.
She heard no conviction in his voice. He was placating her. They walked on. Although his face gave nothing away, Lauren wanted him to focus on something other than his arm and the pain. She’d seen it happen in her pediatric patients. When she allowed them to play with the toys in her office and she asked them questions about what they were doing, they didn’t focus on anything that hurt. Grown-ups weren’t much different.
Jake was an enigma. She couldn’t tell if he was bitter or just lost.
CHAPTER THREE
THE MOMENT LAUREN was alone, she called Amy Reynolds, her best friend and purveyor of all things. The two had known each other since Lauren opened her practice and hired Amy as her head nurse. Whenever a kid needed a hug or a toy, Amy seemed to find it within her arms or behind her back. It was uncanny how she could come up with the exact thing the child needed.
It also didn’t hurt that Amy was in charge of office Christmas presents. All the staff loved her and her ability to find what was needed when it was needed.
“Lauren,” she said when she answered her phone. “I’ve been thinking about you. How are things going?”
“They’re a little tense at the moment.”
“Not doing so good with the doctor?” she asked.
Amy was the only person who knew Lauren was working for renowned surgeon Dr. Jacob Masters. She’d been sworn to secrecy.
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