by Delia Latham
“Hi.” Ugh. Her voice cracked like an old woman’s.
Rick’s Adam’s apple convulsed when he swallowed, and his jaw tightened along with the grip of his hand. “You’ve got to quit stomping your foot, sweetheart. I can’t take a whole lot of this.” He picked up her hand and brushed it with his lips, which burned against her skin.
Even as her eyes closed against her will, Kylie felt the lingering tingle of his kiss on her hand, and thought he must surely hear the jackhammer pounding of her heart. What kind of reaction might she have if he touched his lips to hers?
Just before sleep claimed her again, a jolt of memory shot through her foggy brain. He called me sweetheart!
Kylie's Kiss
17
The chair beside her bed was empty when she awakened, and Kylie refused to analyze her crushing disappointment. Shay and her parents dropped in late in the morning, excited and joyful to find her awake, but even their welcome visit didn’t fill the gaping void Rick’s absence created.
Daggers of intense pain shot through her temples. She reached up to rub them and discovered a bandage taped diagonally across the left side of her forehead. Her heart set up a terrified ruckus, even as her mind shied from knowing what might be under the gauze.
While she lay half frozen in blatant terror, a tall, gangly man with spiky black hair swung jauntily into her room. He wore a white lab coat over his street clothes, a stethoscope around his neck, and a pair of glasses balanced on the end of his nose.
“Hellooo, Kylie!” A wide smile revealed white teeth skewed slightly to one side. “Glad to see you’re awake. We were about to place advertisements for a prince to wake up our sleeping beauty.” He gave the cart beside her bed a spin, sending it rolling out of the way, and extended his hand for Kylie to shake. “I’m Dr. Connery.” He pointed to a small silver name tag pinned to his jacket. S. Connery. “And before you ask, yes, my first name is, indeed, Sean.”
Kylie grinned, despite the pain. She couldn’t help it. “No way.”
He shrugged and gave her a wry grin. “It’s a fact. Sean Connery at your service. No Scottish accent, no larger-than-life film career, no adoring fans, and alas—no ladykiller sex appeal.” He sighed. “What’s a guy to do?”
“Well, I like your name, Dr. Connery. And I like your sense of humor.”
The doctor bowed. “Thank you kindly. And now, how are you feeling, my dear?”
“My head hurts.”
That charming crooked smile beamed her way again. “I’ll just bet it does.” He gave her a playfully reproving frown and waved a finger back and forth in mock censure. “Never a good idea to go head-to-windshield like that. The result is rarely less than a headache.”
“I had a wreck? I don’t remember.”
He pulled a tiny light out of his pocket. “Follow my finger.” Kylie obeyed while he shone the light in each eye. “You may never remember the accident, but that’s OK. Probably best. Looking good.” He grinned and flicked off the light.
Kylie tried to moisten her lips with her tongue, but it was almost as dry. The doctor poured an inch or so of water into a cup and held it to her lips. “Your mouth will be dry for a while, I’m afraid. Some medications tend to do that.”
She nodded, trying to find the nerve to ask what she most needed to know. “Um…the bandage on my head?”
“Oh, that?” He placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her gently back onto her pillow before lifting one end of the white gauze to study her forehead. “It’s just a little gash. It’ll barely be noticeable. The cut runs right along the curve of your eyebrow. You’ve got a dozen or so stitches in there, but they’ll come out soon.”
Kylie’s throat closed, and she eyed the pitcher of water, but didn’t ask for any. “What do you mean, ‘noticeable’? There’ll be a scar?”
He waved his hand to indicate a lack of concern. “Nothing to worry about.”
Two long strides took him to the foot of her bed, where he slid her file out of a rack attached to the footboard, then jerked his chin upward. “Somebody up there likes you. You’ve got a couple broken ribs—and if you haven’t already figured that out, it’s because I’ve been generous with the pain meds. But that’s going to change, starting tomorrow.” He winked at her over his glasses. “Sorry, I hate to take away the good stuff, but we can’t have you getting addicted, now can we? There’s a bit of a concussion, and we’ll be keeping a close eye on that for a while. You were out of it for about twenty-six hours, which could mean something more than a headache.” He grinned. “Or it could just mean you were already physically exhausted, and your body simply used the circumstances to capture a little R & R.”
Kylie tried to choke out another question, but the doctor hadn’t finished.
“There’s some fairly significant bruising across your chest and on your face. And, of course, that little gash over your left eye, but like I said, it’s not even a concern, other than keeping it clean and avoiding infection. It could have been much worse, Kylie.”
She didn’t reply. She couldn’t. She could only gasp for air, frantically hoping to suck enough of it down her blocked airway to keep her alive.
“Here, let me help you.” Dr. Connery recognized Kylie’s problem and grabbed the cup of water on his way back to her side. He slid a hand under her head and tilted the cup to her lips. “Easy, there. You’re all right.”
Tears sprang unbidden to Kylie’s eyes, then welled up and coursed down her face, burning her cheeks. She groaned, a quick mental calculation telling her the sting resulted from salt flowing into more scratches and cuts on her face. “Noooo!”
Dr. Connery frowned. “Are you in pain?”
Both hands flew up to cover her face. “Please bring me a mirror.”
“I didn’t quite catch that.”
She pulled her hands away and glared at the doctor. “Bring. Me. A mirror!” she shrieked.
Dr. Connery took a surprised backward step.
“Kylie, I’m surprised at you! What do you hope to accomplish by that kind of behavior?” A slim figure slid around the startled physician and gripped Kylie’s hand. “Take a deep breath, sweetie. Doctor, may I have a moment with my friend?”
“Who are you?” The poor man seemed unsure whether to send the visitor packing or take a hike himself.
“Destiny Gallagher. I’m Kylie’s friend, and I know what’s going on here. Please, may we have a moment?”
While Kylie whimpered, sucking in great lungsful of air and darting her gaze from the doctor to Destiny and back again, Dr. Connery pursed his lips, eyed his patient as if to assure himself she’d keep breathing, then nodded and stepped to the door. “I’m not going far. You have five minutes, Ms. Gallagher.”
“Thank you.”
Dr. Connery started out of the room, but Destiny stopped him. “Doctor. As you heard already, Kylie wants a mirror. May I give her one?”
He looked from Kylie to her visitor and back again. “We’re not hiding anything, Kylie. You’re bruised. Your face is swollen and therefore misshapen at the moment. But if you want to see it, that’s your right. I’ll be back to check on you.”
He strode out the door.
Destiny waited until they were alone before fixing Kylie under a firm, no-nonsense gaze. “Now. Deep breaths. Panicking isn’t doing you any good whatsoever.”
Kylie slapped at the other woman’s hand, which still gripped her own. “I’m not panicking, just go away! Don’t look at me.” The words were barely out of her mouth before she clutched Destiny’s hand with both of her own. “No, don’t! Please, don’t go. Bring me a mirror. I want to see my face.”
“OK.”
Kylie met Destiny’s sympathetic green eyes. Her breath came in frantic hitches, and a thousand tiny insects crawled under her skin, raising huge goosebumps that felt like needles in the slight breeze from a fan across the room. “Wh-what?”
Destiny hiked a beautiful auburn brow. “I said, ‘OK.’ Calm yourself down, and I’ll get you a mirr
or. No one’s hiding anything from you, sweetie. Your face is fine.”
A sob scraped Kylie’s throat raw. “It’s not! There’s a bandage, and it burns when I cry, so I know there are other cuts. I must look horrible. Oh, God! Oh, God!” Her voice rose, despite her every effort to the contrary.
Destiny calmly walked across the room and closed the door. As she returned to the bed, she stopped beside the rolling cart Dr. Connery had pushed away and peeked under the lid.
“There’s a mirror under here. I’ll let you look in it, but not until you calm down. And I want to pray for you first.”
“Give it to me!” Kylie reached for the table, but her trembling fingers stopped ten inches shy of reaching it.
“I’ve already said I will. But I want you to know what to expect, and I’d like to pray for you. Now, if you want to see your face, then let’s make a deal.”
Kylie bit down on her tongue, seething with frustration. Angry words filled her mind and fought to be spoken, but she clamped her jaw shut. She could tell Destiny exactly what she thought of her high-handed behavior after she got her hands on that cart. She fixed her visitor under a venomous glare and waited, forcing herself to at least appear calm.
A gold chain hung around Destiny’s neck and disappeared beneath her silk blouse. Apparently satisfied that Kylie wouldn’t become hysterical, she gave it a tug, pulling out a pendant in the shape of a small bottle, covered in tiny colored stones. As it turned out, that’s what it was, for Destiny uncapped it and shook a drop of some type of liquid onto the tip of her finger before resealing the bottle and dropping it back into the vee of her neckline.
“What are you doing?” Kylie hated the whiney tone to her own voice, but was incapable of doing anything about it. Suffocating terror held her in an iron grip, and she held to her sanity by a thin thread.
In answer, the other woman placed a gentle hand on Kylie’s forehead and stroked a finger along the line of her bandage, leaving behind an oily dampness. “I’m anointing you with oil.” By her tone, one would think Kylie should have seen this ridiculous ritual acted out every day of her life. “Let’s pray.”
Destiny’s eyes closed, and Kylie automatically followed her example. Innate good manners and years of church attendance—never mind that they were childhood years—forced her to bow her head and close her eyes, though she longed for nothing more than to put a gag in Destiny’s mouth and jerk the stupid mirror close enough to tell its horrid tale.
“Father, thank You for keeping my friend safe. Her family and friends, all of us who love her so much, are not ready to say good-bye just yet. We’re thankful that You saved her life in this accident.”
Tears sprang to Kylie’s eyes, squeezed past her closed eyelashes, and burned their way down her cheeks.
“Thank You also for keeping Your hand on the people in the other vehicle, Lord. It is only through Your mercies that no one was killed or seriously injured. Your love and mercy are without end, and I am so grateful.”
Kylie sniffled, annoyed with herself for being such a crybaby. It was a prayer, for heaven’s sake, not a eulogy. Even so, she couldn’t seem to turn off the waterworks, despite her discomfort at Destiny’s conversational tone. She hadn’t given a moment’s thought to the fact that someone else might have been involved in whatever accident left her unconscious in the hospital with a hole in her head. How self-centered could she be?
And as for Destiny, Kylie didn’t get it. Who talked to God as if He were a close and dearly loved Friend? That was just…well, weird. Sacrilegious, or something.
Destiny wasn’t finished. “Now, Lord, You’re aware of Kylie’s psychological reaction to disfigurement, and you know all the reasons why. Won’t You comfort her in the knowledge that her true beauty comes from within her heart, where You dwell? Please show this sweet woman how truly lovely she is. I speak Your peace over my friend. I welcome Your angels to comfort her. I claim healing for her heart, mind, body and soul. And I ask it all in the precious name of Jesus. Amen.”
One more warm squeeze of Kylie’s hand, and they both opened their eyes. Kylie discovered with surprise that her panic had abated during Destiny’s prayer, and a tenuous calm had taken hold of her frightened mind. She drew a deep breath, grateful to find her throat open and oxygen flowing freely into her lungs.
“Better now?” Destiny smiled, though bright tears sparkled like green gems in her eyes.
Kylie nodded. She did feel better. She didn’t know why, but honesty forced her to admit the truth.
“Good. I’m going to give you this mirror, Kylie, but first, just listen to me. Can you do that?”
“Yes. Tell me.”
Destiny chuckled. “Sweetie, there’s nothing to tell, except that you’re bruised, and I don’t want you to read more into it than is there. You apparently slammed your face against the windshield pretty hard—you were lucky it didn’t kill you.” She paused to shake her head. “Actually, no. Luck had nothing to do with it. God had His hand on you, and your angel was in attendance. But as I was saying, there is some bruising. It’s very colorful.” Her lips lifted in a half smile as she tilted her head to study Kylie. “They all seem to be healing at different rates, which means they’re in various shades of blue, black, purple and yellow.”
At Kylie’s grimace, Destiny grinned. “And then there’s the white bandage spread across your forehead like an accent piece or something. You want to know how you look?”
“Y-yes.”
“Honestly, or an edited version?”
“The truth, please.” Her voice shook, but she didn’t care.
“Here’s the truth. Right now, your face is not pretty. It’s a little scary looking, all swollen and multi-colored. There are several tiny little scratches and cuts scattered over both of your cheeks, and one neat little slice making your bottom lip look puffy and painful.”
Kylie groaned. “I knew it. I look like the bride of Frankenstein!”
Destiny laughed. “This is bruising, Kylie, not patchwork body parts. Discoloration and swelling, that’s all. Both of them will go away.”
“But the gash on my forehead—”
“Is small. I looked at it while you were sleeping yesterday. It’s maybe an inch across.” She held up thumb and index finger to approximate the length, which looked about three miles long to Kylie. “It follows the line of your eyebrow almost perfectly, and is snugged right up against it. It could leave a scar, I won’t lie to you. But—”
A keening wail interrupted her words. Kylie knew the awful sound came from her own vocal chords, but she hadn’t the strength or mental control to make it stop. It started out low and gained volume, rapidly becoming an ear-piercing scream.
Kylie's Kiss
18
Destiny dropped onto the side of the bed and pulled Kylie into her arms. “It’s OK, sweetie. It’s OK.”
Dr. Connery burst into the room. “What’s going on here?” He glared at Destiny. “You’ve upset my patient, Ms. Gallagher. Please leave now.”
“Shhhh.” Destiny ignored the irritated doctor. She cradled Kylie, rocking her as if she held an infant in her arms. “It’ll be all right, sweetie! I promise you. I promise!”
Kylie stopped yelling, surprised to find she had the choice, but huge sobs tore past her throat, leaving raw pain behind. The emotional storm battered her body like a wind-tossed leaf. Her damaged ribs protested by radiating excruciating pain all through her trembling frame. Every muscle in her body awakened and reacted to the abuse.
“Out!” Dr. Connery stepped up next to the bed. He uncapped a syringe and picked up her IV tube, glaring in Destiny’s direction.
She nodded and tried to pull away, but Kylie clung to her like a frightened child. “No! Don’t go! Stay with me. I want her to stay.” She glanced at the doctor, trying to speak coherently in spite of the sobs that continued to wrack her body. “What are you doing? I don’t want to sleep. Don’t put me back to sleep, Dr. Connery. Please!”
He continued what he
was doing. “It’s just something to calm you. It won’t make you sleep unless you choose to. If you do that—and I wish you would—this will keep you from lying there imagining the worst.” He shot a none-too-friendly glance at Destiny. “Kylie seems to want you here, so I guess you can stay. But if you cause another outburst like this one, I will have you escorted out, and you will not be allowed back in this room.”
“I understand. Thank you.” Destiny’s cheeks pinkened, but she offered the scowling doctor a sweet smile.
Kylie sniffled, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands until Destiny tucked a tissue into one of them. “It’s not my friend’s fault, Dr. Connery. I made her tell me…about…my faaaace!” Another wail built up in her chest and fought for release, but she choked it back.
The doctor quirked one brow, looking completely stunned. “That’s what that blood-curdling scream was about?” When Kylie nodded, he shook his head and gave Destiny another disgusted look. “I don’t know what your friend here said to you, but there’s nothing wrong with your face. Nothing permanent, anyway. You’ve got some pretty nasty looking bruises, as I told you earlier, but bruises go away. Your nose isn’t even broken, which is, quite frankly, unbelievable. And you’ve got that little cut above your eyebrow.” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “I hope that’s not what you’re going on about, because if it is, that’s ridiculous. Scarring will be minimal. You’ll forget it’s even there within a couple of months.”
“See, sweetie, I told you.” Destiny stroked Kylie’s hand, and her full lips curved upward. “Hey, want Noni to come? I’ll call her, if you’d like.”
Eyes downcast, she nodded. Dr. Connery’s little tirade hurt, on the heels of his friendliness before Destiny’s arrival. He had a right to be angry, but not at Destiny. I’m the problem. Me and my tongue-twisting phobia.
