“Not on your life, lady,” Nathan said, stopping her from going to Cory by placing one hand on her shoulder. Gently, he grasped her forearms, turning her until she faced him completely before he let her go. “I may not have always been the kind of man I should have been, but I stand by my word. Cory won fair and square. I’ll stick to my end of the bargain. Besides, he’s so bright, and I hate to see him...well, nothing against his baby-sitter, Faith, but that woman seems to know far too much about a remote control and not nearly enough about how kids should be spending their spare time. It won’t hurt me to take him on a few outings.”
Faith groaned. “You’re right. I knew he was watching too much television, but gifted-sitters are just so hard to find. Still, it’s not right letting you help me when I’m the one who should be doing those things with him.”
Nathan grasped her chin with one hand to hold her still, then gently stroked her face with his thumb, staring into her eyes so that she’d know that his next words were true. “Don’t start feeling guilty. You’ll do those things,” he assured her. “When you get some time, get rid of me and have a less hectic schedule, you will. You’re a good mother, Faith. You are.”
“And you’re a good man,” she said. “A very good man.” But Nathan didn’t reply. If he was a good man, a truly good man, he wouldn’t be standing here now. He’d be six feet under, the one who had taken the brunt of that crash. And his wife and child would still be alive. A few childish games of Cootie with a wistful little boy or a day at the park flying a kite couldn’t wipe out the past. Nothing could.
~ ~ ~
The house was empty when Faith came home a few weeks later. The ticking of the clock emphasized the silence. She’d grown too used to Cory’s laughter mingled with Nathan’s deep voice, Faith realized. She’d taken advantage. Nathan’s few days had turned into weeks. “The wind’s not right for kites,” Cory had said when she’d brought up the subject, and Nathan hadn’t disagreed. But then he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to disappoint her child—or any child, she remembered.
She should have called Mandy or looked for another sitter. Instead, she’d done nothing, treasuring the smiles Nathan brought to Cory’s face. That was wrong. She’d been wrong, but she hadn’t stopped to think. Now in the silence that marked Nathan and Cory’s unexpected absence, she couldn’t hide from the truth.
Passing the refrigerator, she saw a note hanging there. It was scribbled in big, red crayon letters—wobbly letters—some of which were backward. Obviously this had been a two-man job with Nathan spelling and Cory writing.
“Gone to the park,” the note read. “Be back soon.”
Wonderful. She’d have a few minutes of solitude, a commodity that was in short supply lately. She could put her feet up, have a cup of coffee, read a book...the possibilities loomed before her, beckoning. So why was she marching into the bedroom, pulling jeans and an old baggy red sweatshirt out of her drawer?
Because she was crazy, foolish. Because it was such a nice day. Because she loved seeing Nathan and Cory together.
It was as simple as that. The big man, the small child, laughing and telling ridiculous, nonsensical jokes, then rolling on the floor as if they were really funny. Challenging each other to games, arguing over what was the worst vegetable in the world. Once she’d even found them sound asleep on the couch together, Nathan’s shoulder cradling Cory’s head. How could she resist? How could she stand to miss a minute, when she knew that the minutes were almost gone?
She couldn’t, but neither could she let things go on as they were. It wasn’t fair to Nathan. Besides, his therapy was almost finished.
Locking the door behind her, Faith made her way to the park at the end of the block. The orange plastic slides and bright blue tunnels were filled with kids, but Cory wasn’t among them. She didn’t see Nathan’s long legs anywhere, either. Shading her eyes she looked around. They weren’t at the basketball courts, or in the sandbox, or sitting on a park bench. Then, finally, she heard a distant squeal, and looked up to see her son jumping up and down as Nathan set a bright green kite soaring in the open space at the edge of the play area.
Faith moved forward, not watching where she was going, not taking her eyes off the two of them. Nathan played out the string, easily manipulating it between his fingers, grasping at it and jerking the kite higher when the breeze threatened to pan out.
Cory looked at the kite, then glanced back to Nathan, his adoration of the man clearly written across his face. It was a blow to her heart, that look. Nathan had won her child’s loyalty, won him completely...just as he’d won her?
No, no, no. She couldn’t think that way. Instead, she focused on Nathan’s hands. It was her job, she reminded herself, She was supposed to be monitoring Nathan’s progress, not thinking about how big a hole her life and Cory’s would soon have. She definitely wasn’t supposed to be thinking about how much she’d miss Nathan arguing with her, teasing her, kissing her. But she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him.
Unaware of her presence, caught up in what he was doing, Nathan gracefully, easily played with the string, twisting and turning his long, elegant fingers as he threaded the line out. He gripped the string, his fingers moving, letting out the slack, answering the dance of the wind as the kite rose higher in the air. Nathan fed the line. Automatically. Easily.
She saw it then, what she’d suspected, though she’d told herself she needed more time to be sure. A therapist couldn’t be too careful with a patient or push them out of the nest too soon. But now the truth was there, bold, undeniable, written in Nathan’s easy grip and his careful control of the slender string. She couldn’t deny what her eyes told her so plainly. She couldn’t pretend he needed anything more from her.
Nathan was on his way. He was going back to the hospital. She’d been right before. The minutes were almost gone. She had done her job, and now she had to face the fact that her time with Nathan was over.
Nearing the two of them, she saw Nathan gently transfer the now high-flying kite to her son’s small hands, and heard Cory call, “This is so fun, Nathan. I want to play this forever and ever.”
Nathan turned to look at Faith as she approached. “I know what you mean, son. I know just what you mean,” he said.
But Faith knew that his words didn’t really mean anything. Because Nathan was leaving. She was going to have to sever the connection—tonight.
~ ~ ~
She’d been flitting around the kitchen like a butterfly gone berserk ever since Nathan had finished his manipulative exercises. Faith knew she wasn’t acting like herself. It wasn’t like her to be this nervous...to avoid looking into his eyes. But that’s what she was doing tonight, because she didn’t want Nathan to see just how messed up she was. She and Nathan were on the homestretch of his treatment. It was more important than ever that she be strong.
Faith reminded herself of that again when Nathan rose to leave. He smiled at her, goodnight on his lips, when she cleared her throat.
“Don’t leave. Not just yet,” she said quietly. “Wait until I put Cory to bed. I have a few things I need to discuss with you.” Quietly, she slipped from the room, not allowing him time to reply or giving herself time to decipher the surprised look on his face.
She returned in mere minutes, having promised a too-tired Cory a story the next day. By now Nathan’s stunned look had turned to something else. He was staring at his hands when she came in, bending his fingers back and forth as if to test his strength.
He knew, she thought. He knew what she was going to say.
“So...Faith, do I owe you an apology for taking Cory out of the house without asking your permission today?” he asked, but she could tell by the skeptical light in his eyes that he didn’t believe that was what she wanted.
“Not at all.” She shook her head. “You left a note. Cory enjoyed himself. Why would I object?”
“No reason. I was just making sure I knew what this was about, trying to decide if what I suspected was true.�
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Faith pasted a smile on her face, a phony smile, a professional smile, the kind she hated when she saw it on anyone else. But it was necessary now. She was going to give him good news and confirm his suspicions—the long wait was over. He was almost home free. It was her job to tell him the truth and to be happy that he had reached his goal.
She was happy. She was near tears watching him as he flexed his fingers, knowing that he had his life back—at least a part of it. But for some reason she didn’t want to examine, she couldn’t come up with a completely ecstatic smile.
“You don’t need me anymore,” she said suddenly, as if she had just realized that for herself. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. For some time I’ve known you were getting close. Then today, watching the way you handled that kite string with such unconscious grace, it was clear...well, it’s absolutely obvious that you’ve arrived, Dr. Murphy. Or at least...almost arrived. You’ll have to ease back into things, I’m sure.”
“So my dream of being a world-renowned sculptor will take longer than I planned, I suppose.” It was a small attempt at levity, one Faith appreciated since she seemed alarmingly close to something that felt like tears. Too bad. She wasn’t going to allow herself even a single teardrop. She couldn’t let her mixed feelings show.
“Do—do you like sculpting then?” she asked. “I never knew.”
“Never even tried it,” he whispered. Stepping close, he took the hand that she was nervously twisting around the back of a chair. “I only meant that I’m not quite ready to open people up and solve their medical problems yet, am I, Faith? So, how can you be totally sure that I don’t need you?”
She opened her mouth, waiting to push back the lump in her throat before she spoke. “I’m totally sure,” she managed in a voice that should have been stronger. “The little bit of ground you have yet to cover will happen. It’s just a matter of time and continuing on with your exercises. In the meantime, you’re more than ready to return to work on a limited basis, consulting and so forth, doing the prep work for what will soon follow. I wasn’t lying. You really don’t need me anymore.”
“So we’re ending things tonight, then?” Nathan’s voice was tight, his grip on her hand like an iron band—not painful, but unyielding. “Cold turkey, huh?”
~ ~ ~
Nathan watched Faith. Her dismayed expression at his words made his heart clench. But at least she wasn’t wearing that steady, practiced therapist smile, the one that held him a broomstick’s length away. The one that told him she was overjoyed. She’d finally accomplished what she’d set out to do, and was finally getting him out of her hair.
Well, what did he expect? She’d made it clear from the first that he was not a patient she wanted to take on. There was no reason for her to feel the way he was right now, as if something were twisting deep inside of him, tightening painfully. As if panic were about to explode in his chest.
Taking a long, deep breath, Nathan pulled himself up straight. Hell, what was he thinking? This was what he wanted, what he’d waited for, too. If the bright burst of ecstatic relief hadn’t come yet, it was only because he hadn’t been ready and waiting for it. It would come in time. Soon he’d wake up and realize that he finally had what he’d wanted from the start.
“Cold turkey, Nathan?” Faith was saying. Her voice was soft, confused, maybe even hurt. “No, no, of course I didn’t mean, I don’t mean for it to be that way. We’ll spend the rest of this week getting you prepared for a return to your life and your career. I’ll make sure you know what you need to do in order to be one hundred percent effective when you step into the operating arena. I wouldn’t desert you, Nathan, without making sure that you were really ready.”
Her apologetic look, and the way he’d wiped that smile off of her face so readily, made Nathan feel like kicking himself. He was being a jerk to her again when he ought to be kissing Faith’s feet. She’d come to him against her will, and managed to save his career. She’d given him something to occupy his mind other than the torturous thoughts that had almost destroyed him. How selfish could a man be, wanting her to regret ending things? Hell, wasn’t this what he’d wanted her to do, what he’d demanded she do? Get things over with as quickly as possible.
“Faith.” He clutched the hands that she was holding out in supplication. “Faith, damn it. Stop apologizing to me. I sure as hell don’t merit that. Besides, haven’t you learned by now not to listen to anything I say? Don’t you know what a bear I am? I’ve said so damn many unkind things to you. Too many. But a minute ago, when I made that crack about you sending me off cold turkey—I was joking Faith, just joking. And badly, too. Believe me, I would never, ever accuse you of being anything but the best therapist in the world. You brought me around in spite of the fact that I fought you till you practically had your back up against the wall. When no one else other than Dan was willing to stand up to me, you did—only you. So don’t think I’m being critical. I’m just adjusting, that’s all, getting used to the thought of being physically whole.”
“And you’re happy?” she asked, staring up at him wide-eyed and anxious.
Hell no, he wasn’t happy. He’d probably never really know the true meaning of that word again. But he knew that she wasn’t referring to his personal life, just his reaction to the fact that she was giving him the green light, sending him back to the career that had once meant everything to him.
“I’m happy,” he said. It was a lie, a monster of a lie, but that was just because he hadn’t had time to adjust, Nathan reasoned. In a few days, when he’d had time to assimilate the truth, when he realized that he was finally free and clear of Faith Reynolds and her little imp of a son—free of all the temptation they held—he was going to be insanely happy. At last the weight of Faith’s presence was going to be lifted from his life.
“I’m happy,” he repeated. “Thanks to you. So...if today isn’t the end, when exactly are we severing the cord that binds us, Faith? When are we calling a halt to this thing once and for all?”
Faith hesitated, bit her lip. “We’ll—let’s plan on Friday,” she said, her smile back in place. “That will give us time to wind things down and make sure that there are no loose strands.”
“Friday...” The end of the week, the logical choice. “Make it Saturday and you’ve got yourself a deal.” Nathan couldn’t believe what he’d just said. There was no reason to press this thing further. He’d be much better off once he’d concluded this episode in his life. Besides, Faith never saw him on the weekends.
“Saturday?” Faith tipped her head back and looked up at him, her aqua eyes suddenly concerned. She worried the soft pad of her lip with her teeth. God, he wished she wouldn’t do that, wished she’d paste the too bright smile back on her lips. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Nathan. Why?”
Nathan stepped nearer, closed his mind to good sense, and even managed a smile of his own. “Faith...don’t question the inevitable. You told me once that gratitude was quite common between patient and therapist. If that’s so, and this is the end of our road together, then I want one opportunity to show you my appreciation. These are my hands you’ve given me, not a small thing. Besides, I’ve promised Cory one more outing—it’s just something simple, Faith. So don’t look so worried. I’m not going to embarrass you.”
“I wasn’t thinking that—but I’m not sure—”
“Shh.” He stepped forward so that he was up against her heart, so that she was tucked into the cove of his body. Silently he threaded his fingers through her hair, something he’d been wanting to do from the first. He wouldn’t kiss her, not tonight. He wouldn’t worry her again. But he had to feel these silky threads just once before it was all over and done.
“A simple outing, Faith. With you. With Cory. I started it all so wrong, pushing you around. I want to end it right. This will be our last time together. Let’s end it with a bang, just the way we started things. Let me be grateful, Faith. Let me do this one thing.”
Gently
he touched his lips to her hair. It wasn’t a kiss, not really, he told himself. Even though he felt the sigh slip through her body. Even though she was so soft and close against him that she felt like a part of him, her heart echoing the too-fast rhythm of his own.
“Nathan,” she whispered, in a voice that shook with emotion. No, he told himself, that was just his imagination. He was projecting his own feelings onto her, making believe that this was as much of a wrench in her life as it was in his.
In a few weeks when they would pass each other in the hospital, it would be as if this time had never existed—for either of them. That was the way it should be, friendly, impersonal, not with him wanting to hold her, touch her, make love to her.
Abruptly he released her, half prepared to tell her to forget his suggestion. Making their last time together something special would be a mistake. It would make the adjustment period longer and more difficult.
He looked down at her, and for a fleeting moment thought that he saw pain. Closing his eyes, he tamped down the fear that flooded through him. Of course, he had been mistaken. She was probably just feeling put-upon because he’d been touching her again when he’d once said he wouldn’t. He couldn’t bear to think he had hurt this woman in any way. It was important to him that he leave her untouched, unscathed by his presence. It was why he’d fought so hard against her, why he fought so hard against himself to keep from touching her when all he really wanted to do was hold her, rain kisses down her throat, take her to his bed for long, slow hours of lovemaking.
The thought made him blanch. This whole idea had been crazy, foolish. He couldn’t even stand next to her without visions of her naked beneath him, touching him, letting him touch her. One day more would only make things worse. Opening his mouth, Nathan prepared to take back everything he’d said and tell her that Friday would be fine, that they could call it quits tonight. Surely Dan could tell him everything he needed to know.
The Wish List Page 12
