Healing the Doctor's Heart

by Shirley Hailstock

  “Not only pushy, but aggressive,” Jake said.

  “I said I’d pay for the coffee. The food came with it.” She smiled again, hoping he’d reciprocate. She was disappointed.

  The other diners finished and left the restaurant. Only she and Jake remained with the staff, who’d all but disappeared. Jake slid out of the booth. Lauren stood, still on one heel. When she saw that Jake was in pain, she placed her hand on his right arm. He stopped immediately, facing her.

  “Let me help,” she said in the same voice she always used with a crying child.

  She didn’t wait for his approval. In fact, she expected him to refuse. She began moving her hand along the length of his arm. With her thumb and forefinger, she worked long, steady strokes against his muscles, smoothly caressing them with both the heat and shape of her hands. It would be better if his arm was bare, but this would have to do, she thought.

  Jake stiffened at her initial touch, but he relaxed as she added pressure from his shoulder to his wrist. Then using both hands, she pushed him into a seat. He didn’t resist. Lauren found points where she assumed the pain was intense. Her fingers lingered there and she added releasing pressure to ease those tissues. His right arm was thinner than the left, indicating that he hadn’t used it in a while and had not been exercising it according to any competent therapist’s routine. She finished her impromptu massage, the entire procedure taking no more than five minutes. Stepping back, she stumbled, forgetting about her heelless shoe. With flailing hands she caught the table and steadied herself.

  “Are you all right?” Jake asked whipping around, his good arm extended but couldn’t have reached her in time.

  “Fine.” She smiled. “But I better put on those new shoes before I break an ankle.” Reseating herself, she pulled a shoe box from one of the bags and exchanged her broken heels for a pair of flat-sole shoes. When she stood, she was noticeably shorter than he was.

  Outside, Lauren looked in the direction of the subway that would take her back to Brooklyn. She turned to Jake.

  “Well, Jake Masters, thank you for the company. Consider the debt paid in full.” She offered him her left hand. He took it and shook. Lauren wasn’t sure, but she almost got a smile, at least the shadow of one at the edge of his mouth.

  “It was interesting,” he said, still in a formal tone.

  Lauren felt like she should stand up straight and salute. She didn’t know what his comment meant and decided not to find out if it was positive or negative.

  “Well, Lauren Peterson, good luck with your new career.”

  Lauren opened her purse and pulled out a card. It had her name and a phone number on it. Handing it to Jake, she said, “Just in case you want someone to help alleviate the pain.”

  “Temporarily?”

  She heard the sarcasm in his voice.

  “True, so you’d better act fast or that number will be disconnected.”

  * * *

  JAKE WAS SPEECHLESS. He hadn’t been whirl-winded by a woman since...never? Had it ever happened? He couldn’t remember. As he watched Lauren Peterson walking away, Jake wondered what had just happened. Who was she? She looked slightly familiar, but he was sure he didn’t know her, didn’t know anyone like her. Someone who could be both klutzy and aggressive at the same time. Women usually flocked to him. At least they had before... Jake stopped the thought. He wouldn’t go there.

  Since the accident, most people tried to ignore his arm. They didn’t mention it, tiptoeing around even looking in that direction. If anyone approached him, they did it from the left. If he changed direction, they moved back to his left side, as if he had a contagious disease that would jump through the air and infect them.

  Without even knowing his name, Lauren broached the subject of his injury head-on. Jake admitted that threw him for a moment. He was in pain and when she bumped into him, it escalated.

  There was no pain now. She said she wasn’t a therapist, but her hands had felt magical as she soothed his muscles better than any licensed therapist had ever made him feel.

  Who was she? he asked himself again. He had his eyes on her back. She walked confidently, weaving in and out of the swaying crowd. After a few seconds, she was gone, swallowed by the sea of humanity. Jake glanced at the card in his hand. It had her name and a phone number. He remembered her words. That line would be disconnected soon.

  Pushing the card in his pocket, he told himself it didn’t matter. He was no longer seeing therapists or nurses. They’d proved they could do nothing for him. It was all in his head. He’d been told that by the best psychologists in the business. Of course, they didn’t use those words. They used medical school jargon to explain neurological deficits, paralysis or somatosensory losses. It was hysterical paralysis for the layman. He was no moron. He knew the language. He’d learned it alongside them in the same chairs at the same medical schools. In essence, his mind wouldn’t let him move his arm.

  Turning around, Jake dismissed Lauren. This was his life and this was how it was going to be. He headed toward the car that stopped at the curb. The driver got out and rushed around to open the door. Jake levered himself inside without any help and soon the car merged into the traffic.

  Back at his apartment, the place felt cold and austere. It never had before. Had Lauren somehow changed his perspective? The apartment was a grand two-story space with twenty-foot ceilings and windows almost as tall, but today it felt empty and bleak. Lauren was different, not exactly a breath of fresh air, but someone he rarely came across. She was like spring: warm, sunny, colorful. Why was she making him feel that his apartment, the space he’d lived in for the last five years, was a grayed-out shell? It had everything he needed, furniture, lighting, paintings on the walls, books and a huge concert grand piano that had once belonged to his grandmother, yet he felt as if there was no life in the place.

  Wasn’t that the way he wanted it? As cold and empty as his life had become. Did the rooms reflect the state of his life? Had it atrophied along with his arm? Jake glanced at his right arm. The pain had not returned. He wondered what she’d done that was different from the multiple therapists who’d tried and failed. Why were her hands more effective than those of the professionals?

  The pain was real, but phantom nevertheless. Jake stared at the limb that hadn’t moved in two years. He willed it to move. Just a small change, even minuscule, would be welcome, his brain said. He’d ordered it to move millions of times since the doctors told him there was no physical reason why he shouldn’t be able to use his arm. Yet it refused to answer the commands of his conscious brain. It hung limply by his side or stayed in a pocket if he used his left hand to put it there.

  Since he’d stopped all the therapy, the arm was noticeably smaller than his left one. He could give himself all the rationalized reasons he wanted, but he knew that without exercising that arm, it would atrophy. He dug out Lauren’s card and looked at it. As he ran his thumb over the raised lettering, he outlined her name, remembering her smile and her touch. He could almost feel the warmth of her hands sliding along the grain lines of his muscles, coaxing them into submission, giving them the blood flow they needed to allow the natural biochemistry of the human body to act as nature intended it.

  His brother, Cal, came through the door while Jake was still looking at the card.

  “You’re late,” Cal said.

  Jake knew his brother was concerned about him. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Cal put out a missing person’s report. In this case, he probably only needed to contact the limousine driver to discover that he was alive and well and talking to a stranger on the street.

  “I stopped for a late lunch with a woman named Lauren Peterson.”

  “Really? Who?” Cal’s brows went up in surprise. Since the accident, Jake had spoken to few women and agreed to no invitations.

  Jake walked to his brother and handed him the card. “Her. Check
her out.”

  “Where did you meet her?”

  “On the street. Actually, we ran into each other, literally. She fell, dropped her packages, then suggested we have a cup of coffee.”

  “Why am I checking her out?” Cal asked.

  Cal always did the background checks. At least since the accident he had, taking on the role of protector to an infirm Jake. Jake was a wealthy man and he’d been taken advantage of once. Since then he protected himself. Jake didn’t mind Cal looking out for him. He loved his brother and knew Cal loved him.

  “You’re concerned about me being alone while you go away. And since I refuse more nurses and therapists, at least for a while, maybe she will be the answer.”

  “Why do you think that? You’ve met her once. For the space of a lunch.” Cal frowned.

  “She massaged my arm and I’m not in any pain.”

  “What? Where? Did you two go somewhere?”

  “Nope. Right there in the restaurant. We were about to leave and she started stroking my arm. The pain went away and so far it hasn’t come back.”

  “And you let this happen?”

  Cal knew how sensitive Jake had become to people touching him. Most of them didn’t want to make contact. It was only the professionals who wanted to examine him, using the royal we to ask how he was doing.

  “I didn’t have much of a choice.” Jake remembered how she’d begun. He would have stopped her, but the pain was subsiding and he couldn’t refuse the relief.

  “And you think this person you met on the street can fill the job.”

  “Not exactly I think she’ll fill your requirement that there is someone here in case of emergency and to make sure I get to appointments on time. And that’s why you get to do the digging.”

  “All right,” Cal agreed. “I’ll check her out.”

  “Cal.” Jake’s voice held a warning. “Don’t veto her just because she isn’t the nurse or therapy type you usually find.”

  “I’ll be as thorough as possible. I don’t want to be leaving you with a stranger who has no credentials.”

  “Don’t make that sound like she might have a criminal record.”

  “I’ll check that out too,” Cal said as if the thought had just come to him.

  Jake knew it hadn’t, but he decided to ignore the comment. When his brother said he’d be thorough, he meant it. Both of them would need to know if she had a criminal record.

  “One more thing, Cal. She said she’s leaving the city soon, beginning a career somewhere else. That might be a problem.”

  “If all goes well, I’ll contact her to see if she’ll take the job, at least until I return.” Caleb was a consulting engineer on a number of projects and traveled often.

  Jake silently agreed with the plan. He just realized that he’d campaigned for Lauren. What was it about her that made him want to spend more time with her? They’d been in each other’s presence for only two hours at the most and he was willing to spend time with her each day.

  This was wrong, Jake thought. He didn’t need anyone around to babysit him. He had a housekeeping staff that kept the place clean and a food service that managed his meals. He had a driver to take him anywhere he needed to go. Even if Lauren checked out, he could let her go if he had to as soon as Cal left for his job.

  And he couldn’t be inconveniencing Lauren. She could go to her new place and begin her new career, whatever that was, sooner than she expected. It would work out for both of them.

  However, before she left he’d get her to tell him what she did to his arm to relieve the pain.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LAUREN LOVED HER brownstone in Brooklyn. It was three stories and a basement, long with high-ceilinged rooms and character that new homes couldn’t come close to duplicating. But when she stepped through the door of Jake’s apartment, she felt that her entire house could fit into a single corner. She dropped her suitcase and a small thud sounded, but no dust cloud rose up from the magnificent carpet.

  The housekeeper showed her to her suite, a large bedroom with a king-size bed, a sitting room and her own bathroom. She’d been there for an hour and she hadn’t seen Jake yet.

  She headed into the kitchen and found the Mrs. Turner. The older woman had changed her shoes and her purse hung from her arm. She was obviously preparing to leave.

  “Do you know where Mr. Masters is?” she asked.

  “Dr. Masters,” she corrected. “I rarely see him. He spends a lot of time in his room. I come in three mornings a week and clean up, but I don’t see him.”

  Lauren looked over her shoulder. From the kitchen she couldn’t see the staircase that led to the second floor. Even if she could, she didn’t know which room was Jake’s.

  “Well, good morning,” the housekeeper said. “I have a key and I arrive around seven, but I can come later if that’s inconvenient.”

  Lauren shook her head. “Seven is fine.”

  “I’ll see you in a couple of days,” she said.

  With the closing of the door, Lauren was alone. The huge space felt like being inside an opera house, except the generous light coming through the windows made her think she was outside and not in a dark concert hall.

  She wondered if Jake had a routine. Neither he nor his brother had mentioned anything except certain appointments that Caleb emphasized were important for Jake to attend. Lauren sighed. If he didn’t have a routine, he was about to get one. Being alone too much was not good for him. She’d been pushy when they met. It was time for her to show him who was boss.

  On her way up the stairs, she passed the rooms that had been assigned to her and went to the end of the building. If there was a master bedroom in the spacious apartment, it would probably be in one of the corners. She knocked on the door and waited. She heard nothing from inside. No movement, no radio’s or television’s muffled voices. Knocking again, she waited as the seconds ticked by.

  On the third try, she knocked and opened the door simultaneously. She’d chosen the right door. The room was dark, curtains drawn and Jake lying in the massive bed. He didn’t move as she came in, leaving the door open to let in light so she could see around any obstacles.

  “Good morning, Jake,” she said, using a stern voice.

  He tugged the corners of his pillow over his ears. Again he didn’t respond. This told her he was wide awake and ignoring her. She went to the windows and looked for a pull cord, but couldn’t find one. Retracing her steps, she went around the bed, picked up a remote and pressed the power button. It would either open the curtains or turn on something electronic.

  The drapes began to slowly open, letting in the eastern light.

  “Close those.” The gruff voice made her jump. Jake sat up in bed, throwing the covers back and turning toward her, all the while squinting at the light.

  “Close those!” he shouted. Blinking, he looked at her. Lauren could tell he didn’t recognize her at first.

  “What are you doing here? I don’t need some nanny showing up with her bag of tricks.”

  “You think I’m a person trusted enough to care for the well-being of children?” She thought about that for a moment. It gave her an idea. “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment.”

  “And just to be correct, I don’t have a bag of tricks. What I do is pure magic.”

  “Really.”

  She smiled. “You never know.” Taking a step toward the bed, she surveyed the room. “It is still morning. If you don’t get moving, you’ll barely make it downstairs before it’s time for lunch.”

  “I don’t want any lunch.”

  “I do, and I don’t want to eat alone. So get up and get dressed. The housekeeper is gone for two days. This room smells like a gym and I imagine you do too.”

  Lauren didn’t wait for a reply. She hurried out of the room, although she did leave t
he door open.

  Twenty minutes later, he appeared in the kitchen. His hair was wet from the shower and he wore a wrinkled T-shirt, equally wrinkled shorts and no shoes.

  “Let’s get one thing straight,” he began.

  “That’s a good idea,” she interrupted him. “I’m here temporarily at the request of both you and your brother, so we need to have some ground rules.”

  “I—”

  Her hand came up, palm out, stopping him. “The housekeeper says you rarely leave that room when she’s here. From now on, you let her clean it.” She gave him a piercing glance. “Toast and coffee are already made.”

  She poured Jake a cup and handed it to him. He took it and drank.

  “I don’t like black coffee,” he said.

  “Then you should have put your own cream and sugar in it.” She indicated the items on the table.

  “I also don’t eat breakfast.”

  “I believe there is a list of things you don’t do, but that will change.”

  “Oh?”

  She raised one eyebrow. “You don’t intimidate me,” she told him. “Your brother filled me in on your accident and your attitude since then.”

  “I bet he did. Did he tell you I don’t need or want a babysitter, not even a nanny who performs magic?”

  “He also told me you don’t want to see anyone, but you shouldn’t be alone. And nanny or not, you’ve got me.”

  “Did he tell you that I might fire you the moment his plane left JFK?”

  She nodded. Jake’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “He figured that would happen. So, he gave me a key and told me I should let you know that I work for him, not you.”

  “Meaning I have no fire power,” he stated.

  “That’s the case.” She smiled, feeling like a fraud, but he didn’t need to know that. “On the other hand, I have the right to leave at any time. And I’m sure you’re planning to make my life miserable, so leaving will be my decision.”

  She got a grin out of him. It wasn’t a full sardonic power play, but the shadow of what was apparent.