In His Angel's Arms

by Lynne Marshall

  “How novel, a nurse reading her patient’s chart. Yes, you’ve definitely invaded my privacy. So what sign am I?”

  “What?”

  “Leo? Or Cancer?”

  She shook her head in exasperation, thinking how much more like his old self he seemed. “Leo. No, what I’m trying to say is I checked out your hospital chart and discovered they never even tried plasmaphoresis. I’ve read in one of your medical books that it could reduce the severity and duration of the GBS episode.”

  His joking eyes turned serious. “What did they do for me?”

  “They gave you high-dose immunoglobulins and steroids.”

  They stared at each other for a long, steady moment.

  “I’m sure there’s a reason. I’ll ask Wayne Berger tomorrow.”

  “But you can’t let him know I read your hospital chart. I could get fired.”

  “I won’t let you get fired. Listen, it’s all touch and go with treating a crazy disease like this. Because something works one time, it doesn’t necessarily mean it will work for me. I’m sure there is a logical reason why Wayne didn’t try the best method of reducing the severity and duration of GBS.”

  Suddenly seeming very agitated, JT squinted and turned away. “Damn. He used steroid hormones? That can have a deleterious effect on GBS. I’m going to demand to know my course of treatment, and I’ll keep you informed.”

  “Maybe you should ask for plasmaphoresis.”

  “It’s a thought. I need some time to digest this information, Mallory.”

  Her eyes drifted to his arm, the one she’d just been stretching, and it occurred to her that it hadn’t flopped like dead weight when she’d dropped it earlier. She switched to the other side of his body, and though the exercise worked more awkwardly with her avoiding smashing her breast in his face, she gave him her best stretch effort.

  “Now I’m definitely disappointed,” he said.

  “About what?”

  “You’ve moved your chest away.”

  “Oh, stop it.” She tapped his shoulder with her middle finger.

  “And I’ve been thinking about something else, too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “As you know all this information about me, it’s only fair that you should share something private with me. Something I’d never find out on my own.”

  She took a deep breath. So he wanted to balance the scales. What in the world could she expose about herself to JT? She thought for a moment, cleared her throat and blurted, “I got pregnant on my prom night.”

  “Must have been some party.”

  “Hardly. The whole thing was very disappointing.”

  “Why is it you’ve never gotten married?”

  She hesitated. Would she come off as pitiful if she told him the truth? Well, she’d told him about getting pregnant, so she may as well come clean on this too. “No one has ever asked.”

  His eyes softened when he looked at her. She felt exposed, yet not embarrassed. Somehow it felt OK for JT to know that she’d never been proposed to.

  He didn’t break eye contact. She had the strange sensation that he wanted to run his hand through her hair. She’d only pulled it half up today, and several long tendrils hung over her shoulders.

  “Sometimes I think the world is filled with stupid men,” he said.

  Though touched by his comment, she decided to keep the moment light. “Did you by any chance include yourself in that? I’m still put out that you never hinted about my breast in your face before today.”

  “I may be paralyzed, but I’m still a man. I didn’t want to ruin a good thing. It’s been quite enjoyable all along.” He grinned.

  “You’re horrible!” She finished stretching his arm, and brought it back to his side. Desperately trying to keep the upper hand in a situation quickly spinning out of her control, she pinched his cheek and smiled.

  Mallory felt a pinch on her thigh, high up, almost on her bottom. She jumped, and realized what had happened. “You’ve got strength back in your arms?”

  He imitated lobster claws with his hands.

  “I could scream,” she said, excitement bubbling up inside her chest.

  “Oh, please, don’t do that, again. Better yet, kiss me like you said before.”

  She studied his eyes to see if he was serious. He had apparently turned into a jokester since he’d gotten off the vent. After exchanging a long searching stare, each measuring the other’s level of seriousness and afraid to cross the patient-nurse barrier, she lifted his hand and gave a motherly peck to his knuckles.

  He returned a decidedly disappointed look that said, That’s not good enough.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MALLORY tossed and turned all night. Visions of her imaginary passionate kiss with JT kept forcing their way into her mind, and she couldn’t go to sleep. Having only brushed his knuckles with her lips in reality, in fantasy she’d met his mouth with her own and given him a long and deep kiss—the kind of kiss that was an invitation to much, much more.

  She’d hardly been able to face him the rest of the day, wanting desperately to kiss him!

  After an intense cringe, she flopped onto her back and ran her fingers through her hair. “Ugh.” She had to keep this job professional. Then another thought popped into her mind.

  Travel shots! If JT had planned a trip to Kenya, he’d have had to get specific travel shots a few weeks prior to leaving the country. Could one of those inoculations have caused his GBS? She made a mental note to track down the shot clinic nurse at work then rolled back onto her stomach and planned how she’d behave like the perfect lady tomorrow, so he’d never suspect how much she was attracted to him.

  *

  Mallory arrived at JT’s on Sunday morning looking fresh and bubbling with life. She also evaded making eye contact with him. Hmm. Maybe he’d pushed it too far yesterday. Maybe he’d misread her cues. They’d always gotten along so easily at Mercy Hospital, and they’d been through so much together recently that he’d forgotten this was only her job. He promised to be on good behavior today, though it would be hard, considering how she’d stirred him up.

  JT took a deep breath and tried to think of something non-threatening to say to his special nurse.

  Before he had a chance, like a bad dream, his ex-wife stuck her face inside the door, distracting him, just as Mallory slipped into the bathroom to fill his bed-bath basin. Looking aloof and perfectly made up as usual—her hair colored golden with no sign of dark roots, a bit longer than her usual below-the-jaw cut—he wondered how Samantha had gotten into the house.

  “James?”

  “Samantha,” he said, forcing a neutral tone, knowing his blood pressure would probably register twenty points higher if taken now.

  “I’ve brought Corey, like we discussed on the phone.”

  The day, once again, looked promising and he felt his blood pressure even out. Finally, a visit from the one person he loved more than life itself. His son peered around the corner of the door, like a shy stranger. His own son. Was he afraid of him?

  Samantha had elected to keep him away for all these weeks so as not to traumatize him. Now that he could talk, JT had put his foot down and insisted that she bring his son for the court-ordered visits. He wouldn’t let her get away with keeping Corey all to herself any longer.

  “Come here, Corey. I won’t bite.”

  “Aren’t you sick?”

  “Yes, but I’m not contagious, bud.” He raised his right hand. “I promise.” He wondered why Samantha hadn’t explained that to their son yet.

  Corey had filled out more. He seemed taller, too. Trying to act older than his ten years, he’d started combing his hair upward in a faux Mohawk, reminding JT more of a little rascal than a cool pre-teen. He smiled, and Corey cautiously stepped up to the bed.

  “Let me see how much you’ve grown.” Up close, he realized Samantha had let Corey get his ear pierced without consulting him first. What indulgence would she allow next, a brow piercing at twe
lve, a tattoo at fourteen?

  He clenched his jaw and tried to keep positive.

  “So how’s school going?”

  Corey shrugged. “I dunno.”

  A painfully awkward fifteen minutes followed. Mallory wisely stayed out of sight. Samantha was only doing her duty to appease the lawyers. He knew she thought she had the upper hand, with him being bedridden, but he still intended to demand the every-other-weekend visitation rights he’d fought for in court.

  Just when she’d made a move to pick up her purse to leave, Mallory appeared like a sorceress and a blue rubber ball whizzed past Samantha’s head toward Corey.

  “Think fast!” Mallory said, her smile cheeky.

  Corey caught the ball with one hand, looking startled but pleased.

  “And again!” She tossed another.

  He deftly caught that one, too. And for the first time during their visit he smiled.

  “Hi.” She nodded to a surprised-looking Samantha. “I’m Nurse Glenn.” She turned her attention immediately to Corey.

  “Those are exercise balls. Let me show you how your dad uses them.”

  She took one of the balls and held it in the palm of her hand and squeezed. “Like this. See?” She helped Corey place it in JT’s hand and squeeze it with him. “That’s right. We’re trying to help him get his strength back. Before you know it, he’ll be walking again.”

  Corey relaxed with a specific job to do. He smiled up at JT and asked. “Do you feel stronger, Dad?”

  JT grinned. “Yeah. I do.” Without giving it a thought he tossed the ball to Corey, who tossed it back, quickly digressing from the strengthening exercise to an even better test of reflexes. “I couldn’t do that last week.” He dropped the first return ball and then the other when Corey threw them back at him. He chuckled, and Corey joined him. “I guess I still can’t.”

  “You did good for a while, Dad.”

  He rubbed the top of his son’s head. “Thanks. What’s this style called?”

  “Aw, it’s nothin’. Mom said I should try it.” He smoothed it forward, fixing his hair back to the usual way he’d worn it.

  “I hate to break things up, but he’s got a soccer game at ten-thirty,” came Samantha’s cold drone.

  Corey glanced at him like he was torn about leaving so soon. JT didn’t want to cause him any unnecessary concern. He was damned if he’d lay any guilt on his kid.

  “Hey, you kick that ball around for your old man today, OK?”

  “I’ll score a goal for you.” His face lit up, and he stood on his toes to reach over the big hospital bed and hug JT goodbye. Neither let go for a couple of seconds. It felt too good. JT sensed that Corey needed the hug as much as he did. His son meant the world to him, and having him in his arms was the biggest boost to his spirits since the overly chatty yet peculiarly appealing Mallory Glenn had shown up in his life.

  “Call me tonight and let me know how you did.”

  “OK.”

  When Samantha steered Corey out the door, JT spoke up. “I’d like him to stay with me all day next Saturday.”

  “He’s got two soccer games next Saturday.”

  “Then Sunday. Bring him over for a few hours on Sunday.”

  “We’ll see,” she said as she shut the door.

  JT threw the ball and hit the wall.

  Mallory had the good sense to stay quiet. If she’d said anything just then, he’d have brushed her off. Maybe even growled. Feeling out of control and helpless drove him nuts. His son was slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do about it. He needed to get well, and soon.

  *

  Something told her to stay out of JT’s way for a while after Corey left. He was a beautiful, healthy-looking kid, strongly resembling his father with deep blue eyes and a winning smile. The huge dimples he’d inherited from his mother. How hard it must be for JT not to see his son daily. As a mother, she knew it would rip her heart out.

  Samantha Prescott was nothing short of drop-dead gorgeous. Tall, shapely, and impeccably dressed, she was a real high-class soccer mom. How could she come close to measuring up to her? She must have been out of her mind to fantasize about JT yesterday. As if anything could ever happen.

  Had he spent enough time stewing over his son? She was about to find out as it was time to change the dressing and clean around his subclavian line.

  She flicked his arm with her finger. “Quit sulking. It’s not becoming.”

  He stared straight ahead then glanced at her. The sparkle in his eyes had changed to dull sadness. “She wants full custody of Corey. I told her over my dead body.” He shook his head and gave a quick laugh. “She almost got her wish. My illness is giving her the upper hand, and it’s killing me.”

  He leaned back on his pillow and dug his fingers into his hair. He stared at the ceiling for several seconds, his jaw muscles clenching. “I can’t ever let that happen.”

  Not on my shift, it won’t, she thought.

  *

  Mallory bit her nail while deep in thought. The dim lamp cast eerie shadows across the walls of JT’s room. She sat in the leather chair, feet propped casually on the ottoman.

  The hospital bed was in the high position, allowing JT to read the newspaper under a bedside gooseneck lamp. His mood had lifted after Corey called to report he’d scored not one but two goals for his father at the soccer game.

  Her brain whirled, and the silence in the room nearly drove her crazy. She couldn’t keep her mouth shut another second.

  “So, what shots did you need to get when you were preparing for your trip?” she blurted out.

  “Hmm?” He raised his head, his thick black hair kissing his shoulders, a day’s growth of beard shadowing his cheeks. He’d protested when she’d tried to shave him that morning after his son had left.

  “Your travel shots. What were they?”

  He furrowed his brow and drew in his chin, eyes cast upward in thought. “Let’s see. Yellow fever. Tetanus and diphtheria. Typhoid. Polio and hepatitis A. Oh, and some pills for malaria.”

  “Have any of those shots been reported to the centers for disease control as causing GBS?”

  He shook his head and looked dully at her. “Haven’t a clue.”

  “Well, think about it. It’s important.” It came out more gruffly than she’d meant. She’d only said it because she cared, but what must he think of his nurse talking to him like that?

  An amused look crossed his face. He smirked. “I kind of like it when you talk tough.”

  She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Did you ask Dr. Berger why he didn’t try plasmaphoresis immediately on you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. He said I had an unstable heart rate the first couple of days. He opted to try the immunoglobulins instead.”

  “A lot of good that did you.”

  “It’s all a crapshoot anyway, Mallory. GBS has no cure. It isn’t always controllable either.”

  “Has your spinal fluid changed?”

  “I’m not letting him tap me again, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “But why not try the plasmaphoresis? It could get rid of the rest of the toxic antibodies.”

  “Have you seen the size of the needles they use for that?”

  “Come on, JT.” She stopped cold. She’d used his name. It had been the first time. Sure, she’d thought it a million times, always used it when she imagined them wrapped in each other’s arms, but to actually say it out loud?

  A curious smile spread across his face. “Are you working at the hospital tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Not until Tuesday.”

  “Listen, when you work on Tuesday, go to my office.” He pointed to his dresser. “My office keys should be in that ceramic bowl with all the change.”

  She stood and crossed the room to dig through the change. The keys were attached to a leather lanyard that looked as if it had been braided by a young boy. No doubt Corey had made it at summer camp or craft day at school. She held it up. A m
an who could afford sterling silver or gold carried a simple keyring made by his son. The thought touched her deeply.

  “There you go,” he said. “Go to my office and you’ll find the latest Center for Disease Control report on my desk. Maybe something will be there.”

  “That’s great. Shall I bring it with me next Saturday?”

  His eyes studied hers for a moment, then drifted away in thought. “Actually, I was hoping you’d bring them by on Tuesday night. That is, if you don’t have any plans. Now that Wayne’s letting me have thick liquids, I’d love to have a smoothie, too.” He smiled like a little boy. “You know, something with a protein or vitamin boost or whatever.”

  What could she say?

  “I don’t have plans. What flavor?”

  “Peach.”

  “Will do. Tuesday night it is then.”

  *

  Mallory felt like a thief in the night, letting herself into Dr. Prescott’s office on Tuesday after her shift. Surprised by the ease with which she found the CDC reports, she gathered them up and swept out of the room almost as quickly as she’d entered.

  Once home, she took great care to choose a pair of slacks that fit to her advantage and a colorful form-hugging blouse that brought out the green flecks in her hazel eyes. She left her hair down and brushed it to smooth it out and make it shine. It reached her lower back. She applied mascara, lipstick and gloss, and pinched her cheeks to pink them up. She’d given up on trying to cover her freckles with make-up or powder.

  Finally, she felt ready to leave her condo to buy JT’s peach smoothie and venture back to his house.

  Was this a date? Not likely. She chided herself about making a big deal out of him asking her over. Still, the atmosphere would be completely different tonight.

  Mallory arrived at the cozy Spanish-styled home in the Los Feliz Hills a few minutes before eight. To give herself time to gather her thoughts, she paused inside the car to enjoy the sparkling night-time view of Los Angeles. She parked in the driveway and walked under the large cocoa-brown stucco arch to reach his front door. The evening was warm and dry. Potent night-blooming jasmine bushes lining the walkway tickled her nose with their scent. Using the brass knocker, she tapped out a friendly rhythm, leaving the last two beats hanging.