Cat's Patient Heart

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  Connor’s words stung like a handful of gravel tossed by a raging windstorm and each one hit home hard. Her emotional wounds, still raw even after a decade, bled pure pain and if he wanted to hurt her, he did. Tears burned in her eyes and so he wouldn’t see, Catherine moved from the bed to stare out the window, her back to him. She didn’t answer, not with a voice silenced with unshed sobs made her throat ache. In the funeral home parking lot below she watched a group of men in nice suits, women in good dresses meet, then hug. That brought home how close he’d come to dying and not for the first time. If Connor had died in the accident, she would’ve grieved him like a widow but alive she wasn’t sure if they could have a future based on the past. She waited, quiet, expecting him to either toss out more hurtful words or sling his dinner dishes into the floor but instead, after several minutes passed, he spoke up in a soft voice she almost didn’t recognize.

  “I did, though,” Connor said.

  He’d missed her and that explained a lot but she couldn’t halt the tears that flooded her cheeks. Aloud, she asked, “You did what, though?”

  He exhaled a hard, slow breath and she realized being open about his emotions must be very hard for him, “I missed you, Catherine. And I’m sorry. I really don’t mean to be such an asshole.”

  A memory surfaced, Connor, sick with some stomach bug making the rounds through their high school, curled up on the couch at her house because his mom threw him out, too hung over to tend him or listen to him hurl. Catherine tried to nurse him then, to offer him some 7-up and a cold compress for his head. He’d snarled at her and she retreated but she couldn’t stay away. When she came back, he’d apologized and she’d sat up with him through a very long night, with her parents’ permission. She’d been fifteen and he was a week shy of his 17th birthday.

  She laughed, the sound emerging somewhere between a giggle and a sob, “You always were, when you didn’t feel good, Connor.”

  “You remember too,” he said in a voice so muted she turned around to face him.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  He stared at her, eyes vivid in his pale face and croaked, “Oh, shit, you’re crying. I’m sorry, Cat. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

  Connor’s words meant to comfort instead opened the floodgates to the emotions she’d held in check since he arrived as a patient. All the jumbled all baggage, the hurts, the powerful love and the anguish poured from her in a rush of tears that caught her unaware. Catherine sobbed aloud as the force of it rocked her and she wrapped her arms around her torso as if she could contain it. She struggled against it for a few moments but she couldn’t stop it so she let it go, all of it and turned back to gaze unseeing through the window. Once her back faced Connor, she buried her face in both hands and muffled her weeping as much as she could.

  Until his hands came down on her shoulders, she didn’t realize he’d moved. His touch soothed her turbulent emotional storm and without thinking she turned into his embrace. Connor wrapped his arms around her and held her, tight against him.

  “Don’t bawl, baby,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry Cat. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Her head rested against his shoulder, the new white T-shirt soft against her face and Catherine stood where she’d longed to be for a very long time. As she calmed, however, she felt the tremors scuttling Connor so she lifted her head. He’d turned paler than before and swayed as if he couldn’t stand much longer.

  “I’m okay now,” she gasped, “Come sit down, honey, before you collapse.”

  He didn’t protest as she steered him into the chair and parked him in it. Connor said nothing as Catherine pushed his head down to his knees and knelt beside the chair, talking to him in soft endearments. His breathing rasped and she wondered if she should call a nurse but as he eased back to normal, she let him sit upright.

  Catherine realized what effort he expended to crawl out of bed to comfort her. He could have suffered a major setback but as she groped to take his pulse, she decided he hadn’t done any real damage.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, not the professional nurse now, just Catherine who loved him.

  Connor nodded, “I think so.

  “I hope so. You scared me.”

  A slight grin floated across his lips as he replied, “You and me both, baby.”

  On impulse she put her head in his lap, face down against his knees and without a word, he stroked her hair, slow and gentle. The quiet motion calmed them both and after a few minutes, she sat up and then stood up. She cupped her right hand against his clean shaved cheek and smiled, “Do you want to lie back down?”

  Connor nodded, “Yeah, I think so. Then I know what I want to eat.”

  Torn between a desire to cuddle Connor or slap him, Catherine shook her head and assisted him back into the bed. Once she’d propped him against a bank of pillows and adjusted the bed so he sat up rather than being prone, she looked at him with a sigh.

  “Now, tell me what you want.”

  They’d made up even if they didn’t kiss so he flashed a cheeky smile and said, “Do you really want me to tell you or do you just want to know what food I’d like to eat?”

  “Let’s stick to food unless you want to lie in the floor unconscious or wake up in the ICU,” Catherine said, laughing although it wasn’t a joke. It could’ve happened. “Tell me.”

  “I’d like a roast beef sandwich.”

  “What kind?” she asked. “Deli sandwich, hot beef sandwich, fast food roast beef on a bun, or what?”

  Connor tilted his head, “I want the fast food kind, the thin roast beef piled up on a bun and a vanilla shake.”

  Catherine smiled, “All right but I’ll have to leave here to go get it.”

  “I know.”

  “Then don’t fuss at me later for leaving,” she said, with a wicked grin. She grabbed her purse and started toward the door. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

  His eyes widened, “Hey, wait!”

  She turned around, “What?”

  “Didn’t you forget something?”

  Catherine knew what he wanted but she played dumb, “Like what?”

  “You didn’t kiss me,” Connor said, eyes wide with feigned innocence.

  She crossed the tile floor to lean down to give him a kiss and then wheeled around, laughing to exit. Outside the room, she paused to wait for the elevator and almost slumped against the wall. Every emotion she possessed hit high alert and the extreme feelings threatened to swamp her. Catherine’s placid life normally flowed with the slow calm of a river but since Connor turned up, she’d hit flood stage and the storms kept coming. For ten years, she’d schooled herself not to care, not to feel and she’d managed well until now.

  Her hard found calm eroded more each minute she spent with Connor. When Catherine looked into those deep, dark eyes, everything she felt toward him renewed and restored. That ten year gap bridged with the powerful love she still had and each time he gazed at her, emotion in his eyes, something passed between the like static electricity. Her heart reminded her of a car battery, slow to crank until someone jumped it and then it roared to life. If she’d learned anything in the last decade, though, Catherine knew just love wouldn’t be enough.

  She loved Connor, no doubt about it. His actions said he loved her too although he’d always been loath to say the words. Whatever they’d had enough remained so they still felt it, strong and hard to deny. What she didn’t know was whether or not this intensity would last or if it might ebb away and vanish once he improved enough to leave.

  If they had love, they still needed trust and she had to know just who he’d become over the decade apart. No matter how strong the attraction, despite the familiar essence of the young Connor she’d known, the Connor Donavan in that hospital room remained a stranger and if they had a chance at all, Catherine needed to know all about him.

  All the kisses and caresses couldn’t tell her what she needed to know. For that, they would have to talk and soon.

 
; Her mind churned with possibilities, turned with speculation as she fetched him his sandwich and shake, returning to him like a homing pigeon to the coop just as unable to stay away.

  Chapter Seven

  Connor devoured the roast beef sandwich and drained the milk shake before he fell asleep. Sated, he slept for more than an hour while Catherine watched with a wry smile. His face radiated contentment like a small child or an angel. Clean-shaved he resembled the teenage boy she’d loved but new lines aged his face so that awake, he appeared older than he truly was. That didn’t mean he wasn’t drop dead, swoon into the floor handsome, though, because he was.

  When he woke, he yawned and stretched with a smile.

  “Hey, sleepy head,” Catherine teased, “How’s it going?”

  Connor blinked, “Good, I think. How long did I sleep?”

  “Over an hour,” she told him.

  He shook his head, “What time is it?”

  “About seven thirty,” Catherine answered, “Why? You’re not going anywhere.”

  “I need to call the club,” Connor said, “I’ve let it slide too long already. Can I use your phone?”

  “Sure,” she said as she handed him her Blackberry. “I’ll step out if you want.”

  “Stay,” he said, “I don’t need privacy from you.”

  Catherine settled into the chair and waited as he picked out the number from memory. He surprised her by putting the call on speaker and they waited as the phone rang.

  “For My Sins,” a deep, growling male voice barked into the phone. In the background she heard music, many voices and laughter.

  Connor’s face shifted into a game face, “Its Connor, how’s business, Larry?”

  “Connor,” Larry exclaimed, “Man, I thought something must have happened to you. Everybody thought you’d call before now. How’s Arkansas?”

  “I don’t know – I never got there,” Connor said in a firm voice. “I busted up my bike and I’m in the hospital in some Podunk town.”

  “Well, shit,” Larry drawled, “Man, that’s a bummer. Are you hurt pretty bad?”

  “I’ll live,” Connor said, short and dry. “Is everything all right at the club?”

  “Oh, yeah, it’s cool here, not much out of the ordinary going down.”

  Catherine frowned as Connor scowled. He didn’t like something and she’d guess it might be the lack of detail. “That’s good to know. Are you or Lisa making the deposits like I told you?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Larry sounded like he could be high to Catherine’s ears, “Wait, here you can ask Lisa, dude.”

  Catherine heard the soft think as Larry put the phone receiver down on what must be the bar, a fast whispered exchange of words she couldn’t quite make out and Connor swore, “Shit, at this rate I won’t have a club to go back home to run.”

  “Is he stoned?” she asked and Connor made a face.

  “He probably is and he knows better,” he griped, then waved a hand to silence her as someone picked up the phone. “Lisa?”

  “Hey, sweetie, what’s going down?”

  Bitch, Catherine thought. She disliked the other woman immediately, judging by the sound of her voice and her familiar endearment.

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” Connor said, as he ran a hand through his hair and winced as he raked across the healing cut on his forehead. Catherine recalled it as an old sign of frustration. “How’s it going at my club?”

  “Oh, it’s all going frickin' awesome, hon,” the unknown Lisa said, “No worries so far, nothing worth interrupting your vacation over. Have you seen any ghosts at that old hotel yet?”

  “I never made it to Eureka Springs,” Connor said, his mouth set tight, jaw hardened. “I thought maybe Larry might’ve mentioned I’m in the hospital.”

  “No way!” Lisa shrieked into the phone, “That’s gnarly, Con. What happened?”

  “It’s a long story,” Connor said, “Just tell me if you or Larry made the deposits at the bank.”

  “Oh, Jeez, let me think,” Lisa nattered, “I’m pretty sure we did Monday night but the other nights, I’ve been so tired we just put the cash in a jar in the freezer. It’s an old school idea, you know, but it’ll be there when you get home.”

  If looks could kill through a cell phone connection, Lisa would fall over dead judging by the expression Connor wore. He scowled for a long moment, silent, before he spoke and watching him, Catherine realized this was a face of Connor she didn’t know. Since he dropped into her life with the speed and impact of a meteorite, he’d been an ill man, a patient struggling to recover. Through this she’d seen glimpses of the teenager she’d loved and a hint of the man he’d become but now Catherine saw something of the Connor the outside world knew. He impressed her with the restraint he once lacked and she saw whatever else he might be, he was an astute businessman.

  “Lisa,” Connor began in measured tones, anger in check, “I’d rather the take be put in the bank like I asked, not in the freezer. Do you hear? I want you to gather up everything and make a deposit tonight, okay? Can you do that?”

  “Well, like, sure if it’s what you want,” Lisa said, her voice whiney with resentment. “You’re the boss.”

  “That’s right, I am,” Connor told her with steel in his voice. “Now tell me what else has been going on at the club, anything that’s happened out of the usual.”

  “Fine,” Lisa spit over the phone, “Whatever. There was a fight last night and someone called the cops but it was over before they got here but they were pissed. Lupe missed work Monday night because she had a bellyache, Trixie’s pregnant again and King had to toss out two guys because they got drunk. Larry cut them off at the bar and they didn’t like it so they tried to trash the place. I think that’s it – oh, and we’ve got roaches in the kitchen again.”

  “Shit,” Connor said, “And that’s when everything’s going great? No wonder I didn’t take a vacation until now. Can’t you or Larry handle it? Call pest control and get them in there at least.”

  Lisa snorted into the phone, “I guess I can try. Maybe you should come home so you can handle it.”

  Connor closed his eyes and made a face. Catherine watched the monitor as his blood pressure increased and his pulse rate quickened.

  “I told you, I’m in the fucking hospital, Lisa. I don’t even know yet when I’ll be out and even then I’m not coming home for awhile.”

  A wild peal of laughter and a huge crash not far from the phone on the other end blasted into Catherine’s ears and she winced. So did Connor as he asked, “What’s that?”

  “I gotta go see,” Lisa cried, “Shit! I’ll have to call you back or something.”

  “No, wait,” Connor shouted but the call ended and he handed Catherine the phone. She was glad he didn’t throw it against the wall and smash it. He punched the mattress with one fist, “Damn it! She can’t call me back – the bar phone doesn’t have Caller ID.”

  Catherine joined him on the bed and said, “You can call back yourself in a few minutes. Calm down, honey. Your pulse’s racing and your blood pressure’s up.”

  Connor glared at her, “I’ll try but my business is going down the drain fast and I can’t do a damn thing about it. You don’t know how hard I worked to built it up and the idiots who work for me will have it trashed in a week’s time. By the time I’m healed, there won’t be anything to go back to run.”

  Catherine’s heart iced over like a window in a blizzard. She’d known he’d go home, sometime but in the rush of emotions she hadn’t thought about it or considered the impact. No matter how sweet this unexpected reunion might be, his life was there, hers here. Accept it and move on, enjoy this moment. She’d try but after Connor left, she’d be devastated and she knew it. Sadness washed over her like a cold winter’s rain and Connor, still rambling about his club, didn’t notice. Catherine listened without really hearing and after about five minutes, she offered him her phone again.

  The second call was quick; there’d
been a brief fight, nothing more than a scuffle. This time he talked to both Lisa and King, his bouncer. They vowed they’d make the bank deposits, call an exterminator and keep everything running smooth.

  “You’d better or I’ll close For My Sins until I can get back,” Connor told them, his tone colder than her heart. “I trust you to do your jobs and I pay you enough you should do them well. I’ll call again in a day or two.”

  He shut off the phone and gave the Blackberry back to Catherine with a sigh gusting between them like wind. Connor shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Catherine asked.

  He shook his head, “No, I’ve got a bitchin’ headache and everything else can hurt does. Can you give me some pain pills?”

  She could and would, “Of course, Connor. I’ll get you something.”

  He took the two Percocet tables she brought and washed them down with a cold Pepsi from the vending machine. Connor reclined against the pillows, eyes shut, with such misery Catherine picked up his hand in hers. He accepted it and held it, then said, “About the time I think I’m better, I start feeling like shit. My head’s pounding.”

  “It’ll feel better soon,” Catherine promised, “Its stress, Connor. I know you’re worried about your club but you need to relax. I’d massage your shoulders if you want to get up in the chair. I don’t think I can reach the right places while you’re in bed.”

  He sighed, “I’d like that, Cat. Help me up, would you?”

  She did and once Connor settled into the chair, Catherine let her fingers work the taut muscles of his neck and shoulders. She massaged away the tight knots and beneath her fingertips, the stiffness eased and he made a small noise of pleasure.

  That made Catherine smile, “Does this feel good?”

  “Oh, yeah, baby, don’t quit,” Connor murmured, “It helps a lot. Thanks.”

  “No problem,” Catherine answered. She massaged until her fingers ached and Connor drooped with fatigue. When she thought he’d fall asleep any second, she said, “Hey, its bedtime. Let me get you back down so you can sleep.”