“You’ve been busy with your career, and I’ve been busy with mine,” she finished for him, crossing her arms over her waist as if in defense. Charles was still attractive, familiar in a comfortable way. But she also knew she never cared for him the way she should have. “We’ve broken up before for the same reasons.”
“That’s true, Caitlin, but you know—” he looked back at her, leaning even closer “—I got the promotion I had been wanting for years. Now I have it and I don’t have you. I don’t know if I came out ahead.”
“Are you saying you miss me?”
He sighed as he rubbed his forehead with one finger. “I’m saying I want to try again. I know I haven’t always been as attentive as I should and I’m hoping we could find a new footing for our relationship.”
Caitlin heard him and knew that beneath the vague words, he still cared for her. He looked up, his expression pained, and it hurt her to see him like this.
“I’d like to try again, Caitlin. I know we have a good relationship, we share a common faith, we have the same interests. Please.”
“And what about Los Angeles?”
Charles bit his lip. “I’m still going.”
Caitlin nodded. “Come, I’ll walk with you to the elevator.” They were silent until they came to the shining doors. Caitlin turned to him, unable to prevent herself from comparing him to Simon.
“I know it won’t work, Charles,” she said softly, lifting one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had to analyze the relationship. Nor is it the first time we’ve broken up.” She softened her words with a smile. “But this time it’s for good. Goodbye, Charles” was all she said.
He stared at her a moment, then turned and left.
Caitlin pressed her hand against her chest, but her heart beat steady and sure, her breathing was regular, pulse moderate. Her old boyfriend had stopped by to see her, had asked her for another chance and she didn’t really feel any different.
No passion here, she thought with a vague disappointment, remembering what both her mother and sister had said about her. Maybe it was a genetic disorder. Maybe rapture and thrills were not part and parcel of her relationships.
“That your boyfriend?” Valerie asked, finally daring to make an appearance. “He’s a honey.”
Caitlin sat down, staring sightlessly at the notes pinned on the board in front of her, easily recalling Charles’s blue eyes, blond hair styled to perfection. “I suppose,” she said vaguely, picking up her pen again.
“What do you mean, you suppose? He’s got the good looks of a male model.”
Caitlin only shrugged. She knew that when she and Charles first went out, she was attracted to his looks, but over time his face simply became familiar, as did his personality.
Now, he wanted her back and she knew she couldn’t be with a man whose touch did nothing to her.
Nothing compared to what happened when Simon had placed his hand on her cheek just minutes ago.
Caitlin bit her lip at the memory. Tried to eradicate pictures of Simon’s face, his eyes, the memory of how he had made her feel with that simple touch, wondering why only thoughts of him could do more to her heart than actually seeing Charles did.
* * *
Simon stared ahead, listening to voices outside his room. Sound carried so well in this hospital. He often heard the nurses chatting, not realizing how well he could often understand what they were saying.
He had heard the nurses talking about what a difficult patient he was, usually in exasperated tones. He heard them talk about what they were going to be doing when they got off work. He could recognize Danielle’s rough voice, Tina’s shrill one. Knew that a nurse named Valerie was working tonight and that she thought Caitlin’s boyfriend was attractive.
You’re a fool, Simon, he berated himself. You should have known that someone like her would have a boyfriend.
He remembered the sound of the guy’s voice as he talked with Caitlin. Simon only heard snatches of the conversation but enough to know they had planned a date.
He didn’t know why he should care. Caitlin was merely a distraction. He was bored and out of sorts and what he felt toward her was gratitude, nothing more.
He shifted his weight, riding out the pain that accompanied the movement. This morning the physiotherapist had him up on crutches, putting what he called “feather” weight on his leg. He had felt dizzy, but it passed. When Caitlin had said he would be discharged in a couple of weeks, he hadn’t believed her, but each day he progressed a little further and he knew it would come.
He was looking forward to leaving. He needed to get out of this room, away from this hospital. In the past few days he had spent too much time thinking about things he had managed to avoid.
Jake, his mother, the lack of family in his life.
Caitlin.
He remembered too vividly the softness of her cheek, how her fingers felt against his. He liked the sound of her voice and too often, when he was bored and lonely, yearned to hear her talking to him.
He found himself wishing she worked the day shift so he could see her more, then thankful she worked the night shift when it was quieter and she could spend some time with him.
He had spent half of today trying to reason his way past how he felt about her, wondering what he meant to her.
He pushed himself over with his elbow, ignoring the pain that accompanied the movement and wishing he could forget Caitlin Severn.
Tonight he had touched her, she had touched him. He had discovered feelings he never knew he possessed. A tenderness of emotion, a caring that passed beyond a physical attraction.
He needed her and even as the thought had bothered him, it gave him a peculiar ache that wasn’t unwelcome.
Then after being told that the pure and tender emotions he felt for her were unethical, he found out she had a boyfriend.
He had to quit thinking, that’s what he had to do. He never spent this much time sitting around. He was far more accustomed to spending his day on the phone, reading reports, investigating hot leads, analyzing data, running around until it was time to either find a date, or go to bed.
One of the day nurses had brought him a book, an action-adventure thriller. He figured he may as well read it now. It would be just what he needed to get his mind off a nurse who prayed, for goodness' sake.
He heard Shane snoring quietly and, without thinking, rolled over to turn on his light. The quick movement sent shattering pain down his leg. He waited until it eased then reached farther to take the book he had been reading off his night table.
He opened it, turned a few pages to find his spot. The words flowed past his eyes, black lines and circles on paper that were supposed to take him away from this hospital, push aside the thoughts that circled in his mind, tormenting him and teasing him.
His mind returned back to his brother, wondering once again where he was, what he was doing. Wondering if Jake regretted not leaving with him that day Simon had called him from a pay phone.
Simon wondered about his mother and where she was, if she was even still alive.
He turned back a page, trying again to read words he had just finished. Concentrating, he managed to pull himself into the story; then he heard Caitlin’s voice, and his heart missed its next beat.
He glared past the curtain to the open door.
“Simon, do you need anything?” Caitlin stopped at the foot of his bed, her hands resting on the rail. Her smile was hesitant, appealing, and Simon reminded himself of what she had said only a few moments ago. He reminded himself of the boyfriend. Time to retreat.
He forced himself to look back down at the book. “Nothing you can give me, sweetie.”
“I’ll be in later to check your dressings. The day nurse was concerned about some discharge.”
“Can’t someone else do it?” he asked, forcing a disinterested tone into his voice. He looked up and curled his lip into a smile. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that Valerie again. She’s kind of cute.”
“I’ll tell her you said so,” she said, her voice quiet, her face registering no emotion.
“You do that, Caity honey.” He winked at her and, setting his book down, leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head in what he hoped was a nonchalant pose. Lifting his arm like that made it throb but he refused to let that show. “Or is thinking she’s cute unethical?” He put a hard emphasis on the last word, hoping it would create some kind of reaction.
“You can think whatever you want, Mr. Steele.” Caitlin showed neither by action nor expression that what he said struck home, but as she turned and left, Simon instinctively knew he had hurt her.
It was what he had wanted to do, wasn’t it?
Then why did it bother him so much?
Chapter Eight
“Rachel, when you first met Jonathon, what did you feel?” Caitlin asked as she sat on the couch, sipping the hot chocolate her sister had brought her. Caitlin had come home from work, tired and confused. She needed to talk. Thankfully Rachel had been waiting for her.
Rachel smiled, her expression turning dreamy. “Like all the air had been squeezed out of my chest.”
Caitlin felt a twinge of jealousy at the emotion in her sister’s voice, the breathy sigh at the end. “And when you see him now,” she continued, “what do you feel?”
“You know, we can be sitting together in a room and he can look up at me and I can still feel the same thrill.”
“Well, I never felt that way with Charles.” And I have with Simon.
“Never?”
Caitlin slowly shook her head, setting her cup down on the table in front of her. “Nope. Never.”
“A relationship is more than thrills, you know,” Rachel said, leaning forward to lay a consoling hand on her sister’s arm. “And like I said before, this sure doesn’t sound like the Caitlin I know.”
“I don’t know, Rachel.” She pulled her legs under her, laying her head along the back of the couch. “Sometimes when I’m praying, I feel a thrill. When I feel especially close to God, it makes my heart beat faster. I don’t think it’s unrealistic to expect the same feelings from a relationship with a man.”
Rachel held her gaze, then nodded knowingly. “I see what you mean.”
Caitlin looked past her sister, remembering another man’s touch, the glow of his eyes.
His swaggering attitude.
The clock’s resonant bong chimed off the hour and Caitlin reluctantly got up, yawning. “I’ve got to go to bed.”
“How many more shifts are you working?”
Caitlin stretched her shoulders back, working a kink out of her neck. “One more night and then I’ll be around for a few days. After that it’s off to Portland to spend time with Evelyn and Scott.”
“Jonathon and I will be here until Monday. We can do something together then.”
“Sure.” Caitlin bent over and dropped a kiss on her younger sister’s head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She trudged upstairs to the bathroom and had a shower, indulging in a long soak, hoping the hot water would chase away thoughts of mocking eyes, a cocky grin.
A man who could set her heart beating with just a lift of his mouth, the angle of his head. Something her boyfriend of three years couldn’t quite manage.
Caitlin closed the door to her bedroom, walked over to the bed and fell backward on it with a twang of the bedsprings. She pressed her hands against her face, trying to find equilibrium, a place where she didn’t have to do all this thinking and wondering.
Simon.
How easily his face slipped into her mind. His deep-set eyes, the way his hair falls over his forehead, framing his face, the curve of his lips. He has a beautiful mouth.
Too bad he misuses it so often.
Ah, the sharp voice of her own reason, pulling her back to reality. Simon was, as he had said, a blip. He was confusion and frustration and mixed-up emotions all tied in with the reordering of Caitlin’s own life. He was a textbook case of the problems encountered with the enforced intimacy between patient and nurse. He was totally out of her league. She knew precious little about him. He didn’t share her faith, in fact he often mocked it. He was overbearing and...
And vulnerable and handsome and fascinating in a deep, heart-clenching way that Charles never was.
She knew so little about Simon, his past. The little bits and pieces he threw her were just vague hints. He spoke of a brother, foster parents, an adoptive father, but no mother, no other family. So casually he spoke of his inability to let people get close, as if it were merely a fact of life, not something to deal with.
She got up and slipped into bed. Yawning, she reached over and picked up her Bible from the nightstand and opened it to the passage she’d been reading. Ecclesiastes. She'd started reading it a few weeks ago, taking comfort in what she saw as a basic realism, an almost world-weary take on life that suited her own mood.
It put her own problems in perspective and reading it reminded her of something she'd known since she was young. She had one basic mandate in life. To love and serve God. Everything else, as the writer said, “was meaningless, chasing after the wind.”
But when she got to verse eight of chapter four, she stopped.
Her finger traced the words and as she reread them, they filled her with an eerie sadness. “There was a man all alone; he had neither son nor brother. There was no end to his toil, yet his eyes were not content with his wealth. ‘For whom am I toiling,’ he asked, ‘and why am I depriving myself of enjoyment?’”
She placed her fingers on the words, thinking immediately of Simon. How proud he was of his success, that he had done it all on his own. Yet she sensed a sorrow and a loneliness that his money hadn’t been able to assuage.
He had no one who missed him, no one who cared enough to visit, to phone or call or send a card or letter.
He was all alone. Like the writer of Ecclesiastes said, "he had neither son nor brother." He had money, but no one who mattered to him.
She closed her eyes, laying her head back as she lifted her heart in prayer for him. It was the one time she could think of him and not feel guilty, when she prayed for him.
* * *
“Just go slowly now,” the physiotherapist urged Simon, “and we’ll do this once more.”
He nodded, easing his weight to his injured leg. He breathed through the pain.
“Good, you’re doing just great,” he encouraged, standing close to Simon to support him.
“I’m doing nothing, Trevor,” Simon grunted, gripping the crutches.
“Considering you had major surgery to the largest bone in your body almost a week ago, you’re doing a lot.” Trevor Walton nodded, watching Simon’s leg. “Okay, back onto the bed and we’ll work on your other exercises. Tomorrow we’ll get you down to the gym for some mat work. Arm over my shoulder now,” he instructed as he easily got Simon onto the bed.
Simon allowed Trevor to help him, much as it galled him. Helplessness was a foreign concept to him. It was something he had fought his whole life. The helplessness of being moved around, of being shifted from home to home. He had vowed he would never be in a situation where he wasn’t in control again.
And here he was. In many ways more reliant than he had been as a child. He was completely dependent on people bringing him his food, on helping him in and out of bed. He hadn’t been outside for days now and in order to accomplish that, he would have to ask someone.
All day people came in, did something, then left. His bedding got changed, his dressings checked. The day shift was always busy, though some of the nurses would take time out to chat
with him.
He laughed with them, told them jokes, talked about inane things, but none of them caught his fancy enough that it mattered whether they stopped and visited or not.
But it seemed he spent his entire day waiting for the night shift to come on. Waiting for Caitlin to stop by, hoping she had time to talk.
You’re nuts, he chastised himself, trying to get comfortable again. Tonight is her last night and then she’s finished.
The thought stopped him momentarily. He didn’t want to think he might never see her again.
Nor did he want to acknowledge how important she had become to him. He made it a rule with the women he met to keep things at a superficial level. Once he sensed they wanted more, he would leave. But Caitlin had worked herself into his consciousness, into his very being. He wanted to find out more about her, to spend more time with her.
It was her eyes, he figured. Eyes that watched him, watched over him during that first night, eyes that could soften with caring. His heart fluttered as he remembered touching her face yesterday, how she had turned her head into his hand.
When she had called what was building between them unethical, it made him angry. It was the first time in his life he recalled wishing he was a better person. It was the first time in his life that a woman challenged him to do just that.
She’s got a boyfriend, idiot. He forced himself to remember that, to recall the date he heard them arrange last night. Caitlin belonged to someone else.
Yet if she did, why did she allow Simon to touch her? Why did he feel so right with her? Why had she stayed?
Well, after your little performance last night she won’t be spending much time with you tonight, he reminded himself, recalling how he had made that ridiculous comment about wanting Valerie to check his dressings.
Simon picked up the action-adventure book he’d begun, forcing his mind back to the story and away from a woman who made him more confused than anyone before.
He read the same page about four times before putting the book down.
Still bored. Bored and confused and his head was busy with thoughts he couldn’t seem to still.
A Family-Style Christmas and Yuletide Homecoming Page 8
