The Wish List

by Myrna Mackenzie

  He watched Faith as she arranged food on the plates, slicing the too-thick pieces of ham that Hannah had left, rearranging dishes, swaying as she worked. She was so petite, and yet so graceful. Her hands were delicate, gentle, he knew. She slid one finger over the edge of a plate to push it deeper onto the table, and Nathan felt his mouth go dry. His mind made the leap.

  Thoughts of that one slender finger sliding down his chest filled Nathan’s consciousness.

  Angrily, he pushed the picture away, and tried to envision his Joanna.

  He took four deep breaths, and felt himself relaxing a bit. Faith was helping him by getting his dinner, something that wasn’t in her job description. He should be helping her, and instead he was—no, he wasn’t going back down that path, not even to berate himself.

  Pulling open a drawer, he clattered silverware about, biting down as he clutched up two forks, spoons and knives. He slammed the drawer shut, grasped the pull on a cabinet and grabbed two napkins, crushing them into his other hand.

  “Nathan!”

  Faith’s cry made the skin tingle all the way down his back. The damn knife. She must have cut herself while she was helping him.

  Whirling, he turned to her. But she didn’t have a knife in her hand. She held nothing.

  She was staring at him, a bright smile on her lips, a glistening teardrop rolling down her cheek.

  “Faith? Faith, are you all right? What’s wrong?”

  In a second he was at her side. He dropped the silverware and napkins on the table and caught up her hands, bringing them closer to see if she’d hurt herself in some way.

  She shook her head urgently, another tear trekking down her cheek.

  With one finger, he traced the wet trail down her skin.

  “Nathan, your hands,” she whispered, staring at the hand that still held her own.

  Instantly, he clutched her fingers tighter.

  “You’re holding things, you’re gripping things. In fact, you’ve got my hand so tightly that I think my own fingers might break.”

  She was smiling like a rainbow turned upside down, and he realized that she was right. He loosened his grip immediately, but he didn’t let go.

  Instead he smiled back. “Did I hurt you?”

  Faith shook her head. “Not really. Nathan, this is wonderful. I’ve been watching your progress for days now, and you do grip things, but only when you’re concentrating, only with great effort. This is different. You did this without thinking.”

  She was right. He’d been doing his damnedest not to think, to get her out of his mind. And now she was staring at him as if he were a gladiator, or a knight. As if he’d held hostile armies at bay for her instead of picking up a fork.

  For the first time in ages, Nathan felt like a man, one who was going to be whole, physically at least. He’d said he hadn’t wanted it, that he didn’t care, and he hadn’t. Not then. But now exhilaration poured through his body. It ran through his veins like warm, healing water.

  “Thank you, Faith,” he said.

  And without thought, he moved closer, slid his palms beneath her hair, and brought his lips to hers.

  She was so small that he had to bend slightly to reach her lips, and that, too, was enough to make him feel large and powerful and protective.

  Slowly he brushed his lips back and forth across her own, savoring the feel of her, this newborn sense of wholeness.

  Faith moved closer. She placed her hands on his shoulders. Her mouth moved against his.

  A groan escaped Nathan and he gathered her closer, lifting her off the ground and into his arms. The sensation of her breasts crushed against his chest made him want to sink into her, lay her down here and now and undress her, kissing his way down her throat, down her belly.

  His head was spinning. Her lips were like damp rose petals, soft and pliant. Heady stuff. He wanted her now, her hips naked beneath him on crisp, tangled sheets. He wanted her willing and wanton, her long slender legs parting in invitation.

  He nudged open her lips, raked her tongue with his own, sipping at her, losing himself in her. Sweet release.

  “Faith, you’re so warm, so giving. The feel of you—I want to—” His own words sounded in his head.

  Faith’s moan, her body moving against his stopped Nathan cold.

  What in hell did he think he was doing? He had seen the tears on her face. He knew that this was an emotional moment for her, for both of them. They’d both worked too damn hard and had too much pent-up emotion.

  He shouldn’t even be touching this woman, much less contemplating the things he’d been thinking of only seconds earlier.

  “Faith,” he groaned, his arms iron bands that pushed her away from him. “God, I’m sorry,” he said, stepping back and turning away. “I’m so damn sorry.”

  Long seconds of silence stretched out, but he didn’t turn to look at her. He couldn’t stand to see the disgust written on her face or to think of his own betrayal. He wanted her more than he could remember wanting, or needing in years. Many years, not just the last two. The thought made him sick. Joanna had deserved better. And Faith...

  “Don’t worry,” she said faintly, at last.

  Her words finally made him turn to her. She sounded so small, so lost.

  Her hair was falling around her face in soft, wanton waves that kissed her cheeks as she shook her head.

  Nathan closed his eyes.

  “Don’t worry, Nathan. It’s gratitude. It happens all the time,” she assured him. “We were both carried away by the excitement of the moment. That’s all.”

  It happens all the time. My God, did she mean that? Did men maul her at every turn? Was that what she had to put up with? The thought of Faith fending off the advances of every grateful male she’d aided made Nathan’s vision blur with anger. And most of it was directed dead center at himself.

  “As I said, I’m sorry, Faith. At least accept my apology.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Faith looked at Nathan’s angered eyes, passionate, stormy and so dark they were nearly black.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but at his grim expression, she simply nodded.

  “You should eat,” she said, turning to the table.

  “No.”

  She looked over her shoulder. He’d held up his hand to halt her progress. Now he brought it to his side, curling his fingers into the beginnings of a fist.

  “You probably need to get home,” he said.

  It was exactly what she wanted to do. The memory of how she’d totally lost control in Nathan’s arms only seconds ago, of how she’d practically been clinging to him, moving against him, filled her with shame. She wanted to run.

  Faith took a deep breath.

  “I’m not leaving until we’re done with your session,” she told him. “You’ve made progress, but there’s still a lot of work ahead. You’re a surgeon, and your fine motor skills have to be perfect. So, let’s go.”

  He didn’t argue, or even speak. He worked and he worked hard, but Faith had all she could do just to sit in the chair and make it through until it was time to go home.

  When she finally made it to the door, Nathan was there before her, clutching the knob, swirling his thumb over the bright brass.

  She almost managed a smile.

  Beside her, Nathan blew out a long breath of air.

  “Faith?”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow. And Nathan, please don’t dwell on—on the kiss. Like I said, these things happen. It’ll be best if we both forget it.”

  These things happen. These things happen. The words whirled and danced through her brain all the way home. It’s gratitude. These things happen.

  The only problem was that these things didn’t happen. Not to her.

  She’d let the moment get away from her at a time when Nathan was vulnerable, able to use his hands in new ways for the first time since the accident. He’d been swept away, and it was natural for his reaction to be a bit over the top. But she was the therapist. She was suppo
sed to control the situation.

  “Gratitude,” she said with a moan. She couldn’t believe how she’d thrown that word up to him, as though it would save her from the naked truth.

  For the truth was that gratitude and such infatuations were not all that uncommon in therapist-patient relationships. But there was one sticking point here. The gratitude and infatuation was supposed to be on the part of the patient, not the therapist.

  She had been right from the start. Nathan Murphy was dangerous.

  The man had kissed her! Worse, she had kissed him back. Passionately.

  It would be an absolute miracle if she got any sleep at all tonight.

  Hours later, as she lay wide-eyed and restless, silently waiting for the dawn to deliver her from her misery, Faith heard her son’s first weak cry. She rose and went to him, but by morning it was clear. Cory was sick, dreadfully sick with the flu.

  Faith was going to have to find someone to take her place with her patients today. Wearily she picked up the phone and began to dial.

  Chapter Four

  The sound of Faith’s voice when he answered the phone sent a frisson of heat coursing through Nathan’s body. Unwelcome heat. He’d been trying not to think of her all day. Above all, he didn’t want to remember how soft she’d been pressed to the hard length of him or to wonder if she was working with other “grateful” patients today. She’d told him it was best to forget what had happened, and she was right. That’s why he’d dusted off the picture of Joanna and Amy and put it back on the shelf this morning. As a reminder of what was important. As punishment.

  “Nathan?” she asked when he didn’t answer right away.

  “I’m here,” he assured her. “Is something wrong? Why are you calling?” His voice was gruffer than he had intended. Long seconds ticked by.

  Maybe she was calling to say she’d had enough of him.

  Maybe she was backing out the door the way he’d dared her to just a short time ago.

  “Nathan, I’m calling because I—well, I can’t be there tonight. My son—Cory’s sick. The flu. I don’t want to leave him, and besides, his baby-sitter has little ones, too. It wouldn’t be right to expose her or to ask her to care for a sick child. But don’t worry. I’ve found other therapists to fill in for me all day. I just wanted to let you know someone else would be coming by.”

  So Faith was finally getting smart and leaving him behind.

  Nathan looked across the room at the likeness of Joanna and forced himself to face the woman who represented all his failures, the woman who would be laughing right now if she could. He’d always been the one canceling out on his wife, a poor excuse for a husband. Her silent censure had told him so every time he’d been called away to the hospital, leaving her alone. She’d never been able to count on him, not even to protect her. He’d hurt her and hadn’t deserved her.

  He didn’t deserve Faith, either. Faith with her tough-as-nails stance and her eyes like frosty blue icicles when her back was to the wall. But oh, those icicles melted and turned to flame when a man held her close and quenched his thirst with her lips.

  Nathan swore. He should never have taken advantage of her, rubbing away at her veneer and exposing the woman beneath, the one who could be hurt by a man like him. But no matter...because now he didn’t have to worry about that. She was withdrawing as his therapist. That was what this was really all about.

  She was giving up on him, backing off. Which was what he’d wanted all along, wasn’t it?

  Absolutely. So why—why in hell—did he feel so angry?

  “Nathan,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “Listen. The woman who’s coming is named Penny Damen. She’ll be there—”

  “No. No one’s coming. Don’t send her.” Nathan’s voice was low and hard. “My door’s closed. And anyway, I’m surprised at you, Faith. I wouldn’t have thought anything could make you run. Not even me. If that’s what this is about, then you don’t need to worry. I won’t touch you again. Call off your other therapist. I’ll keep my gratitude to myself from now on. You can depend on it.”

  Full silence greeted Nathan’s speech. It dragged out over the telephone wires and hung in the air as he waited. Four seconds. Five. Then, “You think I’m canceling on you because of yesterday? You think I’d back away just because a man, because a patient—”

  “Slipped his tongue between your lips? Nipped your throat with his teeth? It’s not exactly standard therapy procedure, Faith. And while I may be surprised, I certainly wouldn’t blame you for walking away.”

  He could almost see her chest heaving, her eyes flashing blue-green sparks.

  “Well, I would blame me, Nathan. What kind of therapist do you think I am? One who blows away in a breeze or bolts every time something unexpected comes up?”

  He wanted to laugh at that. Leave it to Faith to term a male patient wrapping his body around hers “something unexpected.” Well, he supposed it was. Just as he supposed she was right. Remembering the way she’d pushed her way into his life against all his objections and threats, he couldn’t imagine her turning tail and running now. Even though he wouldn’t blame her.

  “All right,” he finally said. “You’re no coward. I’ll give you that, and nobody knows that better than me. So just put the dagger away, Faith. You win. I believe you. Your son is sick and you can’t be here, but it doesn’t matter, anyway. The reasons don’t matter. Just don’t send the other therapist. I’ll wait this out until—”

  Damn. Her reasons, real reasons for backing away finally hit him. Nathan let out a sigh and forked his fingers back through his hair, trying not to look at the picture of his daughter smiling as though happiness could never possibly die—as though children could never be hurt.

  “I’m…so sorry, Faith,” he suddenly said. “How is your boy, anyway? It’s tough being sick when you’re a kid.” He remembered. He did remember that, like it or not.

  “He’s, I don’t know...” Faith’s voice was low, hesitant. “Miserable. Quiet. Too quiet for Cory, but he’ll be all right in a few days, the doctor says. In the meantime, Nathan...Nathan, you can’t wait. I’m sending a substitute. That’s final.”

  He wanted to crunch the phone in his hands, to crawl through the wires and stand in front of her, lean into her to get his point across. “I told you, Faith, that I didn’t want to be gawked at. You and Anderson are just about all I can take. And you know what a jerk I can be, how uncooperative I am. Do you really want to ask this woman to put up with me knowing what she’s walking into?”

  “You want the truth? No, I don’t. If someone’s going to have to take grief from you, then I’d rather it was me. I’m used to it, at least. And it’s very difficult asking someone to do a favor for me, knowing that I’m asking them to walk into an unpleasant situation. But darn it all, that’s the way it has to be. This therapy—we’re not talking about someone who merely needs to be able to grasp things. You know that, all too well. Your fingers have to be more than merely flexible; you have to have above average dexterity. Otherwise, if your hands didn’t cooperate during surgery, you could slip and maim someone—or at least be incapable of carrying out the tasks you’d want to do. These sessions aren’t just mildly amusing activities we take part in.”

  Her words finally brought a smile to Nathan’s face. He leaned back in the chair imagining Faith with that icy schoolteacher-stern look she wore so well. The one that made him want to move in close and press up against her to see if he could lick away the frost, make her melt beneath his mouth.

  “Mildly amusing activities?” he protested. “Lady, you’ve got to be kidding. I’ve never strained and grunted and worked so hard just to pick up a damn pencil or to grasp the phone before the person on the other end decides to give up. And yes, I know what you’re saying, but I—hell, it doesn’t change things. I’ll wait until you have time for me, Faith. If I have to backtrack to make up for lost time, that’s no problem.” Not if it meant he could steal a few extra days of time with her trying to r
ecover the ground he’d lose.

  The thought sneaked in. He ignored it, suppressing the knowledge that he was being a jerk again, unreasonable and foolish. He tamped down the niggling thought that maybe another therapist would be the best course. Maybe if Penny Damen was competent, then he should switch to her completely. But no, Anderson had done his homework. He’d insisted Faith was the one. Nathan blew out a breath of relief.

  “I’ll wait, and you’re not to feel guilty. It’s my choice.”

  “Nathan...”

  “You don’t have any recourse. Just...watch your boy. Make sure he gets well. Call me when he’s better.”

  “Nathan...please, I wouldn’t do this if there was any other way. No way would I turn you over to someone else’s care if I could be there. I don’t like this, either.”

  Her voice sounded tired, sad, concerned. Nathan thought he could hear a small cry in the background. Faith covered the phone. She murmured something soothing and reassuring.

  Hell, what kind of a louse was he? Didn’t she have enough problems and worries without him giving her grief? Hadn’t he already proven that he knew how to make a woman miserable?

  Nathan let the pain rip through his gut. He welcomed it. “All right,” he said wearily. “You win, but don’t send anyone else. Just stay put. If you won’t let me wait, I’ll come to you this time. And we’ll take as long as necessary. You can tend to your son whenever you need to.”

  “Mommy...” He heard it then, closing his eyes against everything that word meant and all the feelings it evoked.

  Nathan could sense Faith’s concern and the fact that she wanted to go to her son. But she wasn’t too happy with the way this conversation was going.

  “I’ll call you back,” she promised.

  “No, don’t bother. I’ll be there. And don’t worry about how. I’m a doctor, remember? I’m used to dealing with sticky situations.”

  “No, Nathan. I’ll call you.”