"What?"
He took a deep breath, no longer laughing. "A midwife I met when I was an intern told me I'd be at that doctor's beck and call, running paperwork to the airport with medical evac patients and the like." He paused and sighed. "But that was a country hospital, a long time ago. Here, she'd probably just get me coffee."
Caitlin's medical chart clacked as it was dropped into the slot at the end of her bed.
"Did she buy you a coffee?"
Dr Lannon laughed again. "No, my wife would kill me if I let strange girls buy me coffee."
"Which country hospital were you an intern at, Dr Lannon?"
Footsteps leaving.
"Albany Regional." I heard the voices fade away down the corridor. "I'd feel more comfortable if you called me Aidan. I still look around for my father whenever someone says, 'Dr Lannon,' though it's been me for six years now..."
I drifted into sleep, trying to shut out the images of what Caitlin had looked like when I found her. Instead, they blended into a nightmare that I couldn't run from.
When Caitlin's scream woke me, it was almost a relief.
"Angel, it's all right. I'm here. Wake up, angel. It's over," I said as I settled into the chair by her bed, hoping her nightmares would keep me awake for a while.
22
Cold and alone. Sand.
Couldn't feel anything anymore.
Stab of pain.
One of them, hurting me.
Too much pain.
Too weak to fight any more.
Saw a gun. Time to end it.
Gunshots. Screaming.
NO.
Won't let them hurt me again.
Promise?
Angel.
It's all right. I'm here.
Wake up, angel.
It's over.
23
"Hello?" Caitlin tried to sit up, struggling against the sheets that tucked her tightly in the bed. She looked around, bewildered, stretching her hands out as if reaching for something. "Where are you?"
Relief flooded through me. Finally. "I'm here, Caitlin. I haven't left." I stood up so that all she had to do was look up to see me.
Her eyes focussed on me, but she looked troubled. In concern, I reached for her hand. Too late I realised that I might hurt her. As my fingers grazed the gauze, I snatched them back. She looked at her hand in wonder at my touch as if she'd felt it through the bandage.
"I'm not dead, am I?" she asked in hushed tones.
I almost laughed but caught myself. She looked as if she might cry if I said the wrong thing. "You're doped up to the eyeballs and wrapped up like a mummy, but you're alive. Very much alive – and in hospital, where you should be."
"What happened?" she quavered.
I was at a loss for where to begin. I didn't know how to describe what she'd been through – just thinking about it was enough to give me nightmares. "You were hurt..."
She started to shake her head, then grimaced as this caused her pain. "No, I know that. There was lots of yellow with cartoon animals on the ceiling... but now I'm here and Winnie the Pooh is gone." She glared suspiciously at the ceiling.
If I were Winnie the Pooh, I'd be hiring a bodyguard, I thought, hiding my smile. She looked as if she was ready to put him on a hit list.
Her eyes fixed on me again, her voice firmer and more urgent. "What happened?"
This time I didn't hesitate. "You fought the nurses. You were so scared. I think they gave you something to make you sleep – you've been asleep for a while."
She swallowed as if remembering was an effort. "I called for you. You weren't there. They said that you were being treated somewhere else. I wanted to get up to find you, but they wouldn't let me. I mustn't have tried hard enough..."
Horrified at the memory, I cut her off. "You did too much as it was – if you'd done any more, we might have lost you. You came so close, Caitlin... hell, I was scared." She looked shocked. Embarrassed at having said it, I looked out the window – anywhere but at her. Careful. I had a job to do here and couldn't afford to make any mistakes.
I waited for her to say something, but she was strangely silent. "Caitlin?" I asked, worried, looking back at her. Oh, fuck. Work could wait. She was far more important than any job. Seeing the tears cascading down her face and how hopeless she was at hiding them, I burst out, "Don't cry, angel. It's over."
That did it. She clung to me, sobbing, and I just held her, letting her cry herself out. After what seemed like forever, when I figured she'd cried herself to sleep against my shirt, she pulled away, hiccupping.
"Thank you. I think... you saved my life." Biting her lip, hesitating, she turned her eyes on me. "Who are you? I... I barely know you." She looked as if she might start crying again, her tears held back only by a force of will. I'd seen enough of her tears to last me into my next lifetime – or maybe just an eternity in hell after the end of this one.
I answered immediately, all of my prepared beginnings forgotten. "My name is Nathan Miller. I found you lying on the beach. I just brought you in to the hospital."
At this, she looked at her hands, bandaged up to her wrists, the IV drip taped to her already swollen right hand. "Nathan Miller," she murmured quietly, before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. "Nathan," she breathed, her eyes still closed, as if my name were a new wine she were tasting, focussing on the feel of the word on her tongue.
I found myself holding my breath, unsure of what to say to this girl, a near stranger. A hysterical thought occurred to me. If there were a wine with my name on it, what sort would it be? I didn't know enough about wine to imagine it. One with a high alcohol content that came with a hangover in the morning, that's for sure. But what would she do? Would she savour the taste and take another sip, or spit it out with a shake of her head and refuse to let it pass her lips again? What was she thinking? I desperately wanted her not to reject me, this girl I barely knew. This girl I couldn't tear my eyes away from.
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue before her mouth curved upwards in the slightest smile. "Thank you. You chose to keep your promise... Nathan." She opened her eyes slowly as she said my name, her tone caressing, those big dark eyes fixed on me as she tilted her head the tiniest bit to one side.
How did she do that? One moment my head was full of questions about what she'd said before my name, then it was wiped blissfully blank. All I wanted now was to hear her say my name like that again. All I could think about was what I wanted to do to her to elicit that kind of response. I wanted... Fuck, no!
There was no way in hell I could want a girl who was in hospital after being beaten and worse. A girl whose piercing screams woke me when anyone touched her, even in her dreams. I'd have to be a real sick bastard to want that.
A sick bastard who's going to fucking forget he'd ever entertained the thought of wanting Caitlin, that's for sure, I promised myself.
Her eyes no longer held mine, focussing first on her white-swathed hands, before moving to her lap, surveying the whole length of the bed. She looked up slowly, biting her lip, taking an inventory of her hurts.
Knowing that her injuries were far worse than just those covered by the white bandages I could see, I swallowed and tried to speak. Better late than never. "I'm so sorry, Caitlin. If anything I did hurt you, I'm sorry."
Now she looked puzzled. "You... didn't. You were... shot?" She looked at me, struggling to remember. She reached out, touching her palm lightly to the place where the bullet had grazed my shoulder.
Through both the bandage and the fabric of my shirt, I barely felt her light touch, but the contact felt electric, as if there was nothing between her skin and mine. As if she'd touched a nerve that fed directly into my spine, a tingling that was far from painful.
Hastily, I answered, "Yes. So were you. But... it could have been far worse if you hadn't distracted him. Thank you. I may very well owe you my life."
She gave a tiny smile in reply, still looking troubled, but her next words were i
nterrupted by a fit of coughing that left her breathless and exhausted. I shifted the pillows behind her so she'd be comfortable as she sank back into them. I carefully pulled her sheets and blankets up to cover her again, conscious of her eyes on me.
"Will you still be here in the morning when I wake up?" she asked in a small voice.
Of course. Where else would I be? I'll lose my job if I'm not, I thought but didn't say. "Would you like me to be?" I asked instead.
She nodded hesitantly, her eyes fearful.
"Then I'll be here," I said with a smile.
"Thank you," she responded softly, closing her eyes.
"Nathan," she murmured a few seconds later, almost as an afterthought, as she drifted into sleep once more.
I stood and moved to my own bed, intent on going back to sleep, too.
Brilliant. I'd made her cry, compared myself to a hangover in a bottle and nearly propositioned her. Maybe the next time I stuck my foot in my mouth I'd do her a favour and fucking choke on it.
My eyes snapped open as I realised. I turned to look at her, but she was asleep. I lay back on my pillow, now wearing a smile on my face.
However badly I'd handled this, she still wanted me to stay 'til the next morning.
24
I woke to swearing, then a heavy thump accompanied by more swearing. I opened my eyes and looked automatically at Caitlin's bed beside me. It was empty.
I stood up quickly, close to panic, before I saw her bandaged hand rise into view and clutch ineffectually at the sheets. They slithered off the bed as I watched, taking the blanket with them. The swearing intensified but it was somewhat muffled. I realised I knew the angry voice and I'd never been so relieved to hear it.
"What's wrong?" I asked as I walked around the bed to where I could see Caitlin, thinking that she'd probably just fallen out of bed. Instead, she lay face down, her feet closest to the bed, as she struggled to get up with her damaged hands. It looked like she'd tripped and fallen flat on her face, before she'd pulled the bed linen down on top of herself.
I knelt down to pull the blanket away from her head, thanking whatever helpful deity had made the linen fall so that it covered most of her.
Caitlin was both angry and frustrated. "I can't walk and I can't get up."
"Here, let me help you." I made good use of the blanket and sheet to keep some separation between her body and mine, tucking the whole mess around her as I picked her up.
"Thank you," she said quickly, biting her lip, still looking a little flustered.
"What happened?"
She hesitated a moment before she spoke. "I got out of bed, tried to take a step and it hurt. Then I fell." She frowned. "I can't walk if it hurts that much."
"Perhaps you should stay in bed and rest then," I suggested.
"But I needed... I was trying to get to the bathroom." She wouldn't look at me as she said it.
Understanding her embarrassment, I offered casually, "I can carry you in there, if you like."
"Thank you." Her gratitude was fervent.
I looked from her to the bathroom. Oh, shit. This time I'd have to do it with just her and the skimpy nightie. She'd scream for sure.
I lifted her up and quickly carried her to the toilet in the ensuite bathroom, conscious of the hospital-issue nightdress she still wore and the amount of skin it didn't cover. I couldn't put her down fast enough, praying with every step that she wouldn't scream.
I almost shuddered with relief when I let go of her, but I tried to control myself so she wouldn't see my reaction and take it the wrong way. Even injured, Caitlin was still one hell of a temptation – pretty in all the right ways.
Wrong ways, I told myself as I turned my back and walked to the bathroom doorway to give her some privacy. She was damn fine in all the wrong ways and it'd be really great if she had some clothes to cover up with so I wouldn't be tempted any more than I had been already.
After a moment's thought, I called back over my shoulder, "If you want, I could ask my sister to drop by your house the next time she comes in to see me and she could pick up some of your own clothes for you to wear." Please say yes, please say yes...
She was silent for a moment before she replied, "Thank you, but I think with all the dressings and stuff, plus the trouble I'd have putting on or taking off clothes, I'm better off with hospital issue."
Shit. "Fair enough." I nodded, trying not to think of her wearing a backless nightdress with no underwear. Especially once the dressings came off. I'd just have to control my thoughts better. That's it. Not difficult at all. Hesitantly, I added, "Let me know when you're done and need my help again."
"I... I'm not done, but I may need your help." Her voice faded to a mortified whisper. I glanced over my shoulder and saw her pawing uselessly at the toilet paper dispenser, unable to grasp anything with her bandaged hands. She bit down hard on her lip in an effort to stop herself from crying.
Oh, fuck. This was just painful to watch.
"Did you know," I asked her as I crossed the bathroom quickly, ripping a wad of toilet paper out of the dispenser and pressing it into her upturned hand, "that you looked just like a kitten batting at a new toy just now? It was very cute." I smiled gently, my eyes on her face to gauge her reaction to my poor attempt at a joke. And not look at what she was doing with the toilet paper.
For a second, she looked hurt, then she looked up and met my eyes. A small smile slowly spread across her face. "Meow," she said, holding up her 'paws'. "I feel about as weak as a kitten, so the comparison is probably right." She sighed. "Now, I would appreciate your help one more time, because I think you're right. I need to rest in bed a bit longer."
"At your service." I took a deep breath and braced myself. I carried her back to bed and attempted to tuck the sheets around her again. I'd never been so relieved to see a girl covered up. Casually, I mentioned that she could ask the nurses for help when she needed it – after all, that was why she was in hospital. I prayed she'd take the hint and let other women help her. Anyone but me.
She looked down at her lap, not meeting my eyes. "I know, but I feel uncomfortable asking some random stranger to help me with something so personal... and I don't... like... anyone touching me at the moment." She shuddered.
Shit. I was on bathroom duty indefinitely. Was there any chance I could ask for her to be catheterised so I didn't have to... fuck, that wasn't something I should think about, either.
I took a breath and let it out. She didn't need me to make her feel worse. She felt bad enough as it was. I tried to be funny. "And the last time you asked a random stranger for help, you ended up in hospital with him and now you can't get rid of him – he even followed you into the bathroom." I smiled, attempting to make light of it.
She looked up but didn't smile. "After you saved my life, got shot and even helped me wipe my..." She blushed, unable to finish. "I don't think you qualify as a random stranger any more. I'd like to think you're a very good friend, even if I don't know you very well."
"And here I thought you were going to call me an arse wipe." I shook my head in mock sadness, feeling nothing but uneasy relief.
25
"Good morning, here's your breakfast."
The ladies who served the hospital meals always seemed too cheerful to be real. The sleepless nights with Caitlin had meant they usually woke me from an uneasy doze, only serving to heighten the impression that their bright smiles were a hallucination. Yet here was one, smiling first at me, then at Caitlin.
"I heard you were awake, hon." The woman winked at her. "I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I picked out the best of this morning's breakfast menu for you. I'll give you your menu, too, so you can order what you like for tomorrow."
Jokes about bad hospital food aside, I'd soon learned that they didn't apply to this place. I was most of the way through my eggs before I thought to ask Caitlin about her breakfast.
Swallowing the last mouthful of egg, I asked her, "So, what's the best of this morning's breakfast
menu?"
When she didn't reply, I looked over at her, only to see her breakfast was still covered. She concentrated on keeping the glass of orange juice between her bandaged hands firmly enough to lift it off the tray. She managed to take a mouthful of juice before slowly and carefully returning the glass to the tray.
"Caitlin? How's your breakfast?" I asked, realising that, aside from the juice, her tray was untouched. She stared down at the tray, her lips pressed firmly together. She couldn't even feed herself, I realised. And she was trying not to cry about it but she wouldn't ask for help, either.
I took a step toward her, leaned over and pressed her nurse call button.
"Hey!" She turned her tear-filled eyes on me, suddenly angry.
"You need someone to help you with your breakfast," I told her gently.
"I was managing fine!" She reached for the orange juice again, but only succeeded in knocking the glass off the tray and onto the bed. "Oh hell." Her tears spilled over, too, streaking down her cheeks as she tried clumsily to climb onto her pillows without using her hands, to avoid the spreading pool of orange on her sheets.
I hesitated a second before I offered, "Please, let me help." This time I didn't wait for an answer. I lifted her out of her bed and transferred her to mine. I pushed my breakfast tray away from her and dragged her breakfast-laden table over. She turned away from me, reaching for a tissue that she couldn't grasp.
I reached over her for the same tissue with markedly more success. I carefully wiped every trace of tears from her face before I helped her blow her nose. It wasn't until I walked away from her to put the tissues in the bin and wash my hands that she spoke.
"Thank you," she said in a small voice. I didn't say anything.
When I returned, I sat next to her on the bed, pulling my tray onto the table beside hers. I lifted the cover off her plate to find she'd been given the same as me.
"So, do you want those eggs?" I asked her.
"Just the thought of being fed like a baby makes me lose my appetite," she stated in the same small voice, not looking at me.
Nightmares of Caitlin Lockyer (Nightmares Trilogy) Page 4