“Do I pass muster?” There was laughter in his voice.
Megan was so surprised to hear humor she almost didn’t mind that her cheeks flamed with embarrassment because he’d caught her staring. She wanted to deny it, but the secret she had was enough. She didn’t want to burden an already overworked conscience.
She looked him straight in the eyes. “Just checking to see if the little circles I shaved on your chest are beginning to fill in yet.”
“I thought you said you don’t lie.”
“I don’t. And so I must admit I couldn’t help noticing you’re a fine specimen of a man.”
“So is that a yes on the sponge bath?” One dark eyebrow rose, a challenge if she’d ever seen one.
Megan couldn’t resist the bait. “You’re not incapacitated, Mr. Reynolds. In fact you were on your feet watching me cook breakfast longer than it would take for a shower.”
“What about the contraption on my leg?” he asked, lifting the limb covered by the canvas-and-Velcro brace.
“It’s not a cast. You can remove it for certain activities.”
His eyes glittered with a dare. “What activities might those be?”
“You know. Showers and—” Her face, just about back to normal temperature after he’d caught her looking, heated up again.
“And what, Megan? Are you blushing?” There was the barest hint of surprise in his voice.
“Of course not. I’m a nurse.”
“I know. But your face is red. I didn’t think nurses blushed.”
“We don’t. It’s one of the rules. Like doing no harm.”
He shook his head. “You’re lying. But I give you points for trying to bluff.”
“I’m not bluffing. Why would I blush? You’re not my first patient. When you’ve seen one—”
“Seen one what?”
Heat crawled up her neck. Her cheeks felt as hot as the face of the sun. “When you’ve seen one naked man, you’ve seen them all.”
“I’m surprised at you, Nurse Brightwell. That’s so callous. Who knew you could be so unfeeling?”
If only that were true, she thought, wishing for nuclear winter. “It’s true.”
“You still haven’t answered my question. Are you going to give me a sponge bath?”
“No.”
“How come?”
There was the petulant little boy again. But if he were a boy, she wouldn’t be between a rock and a hard place. “You need to be up and moving around.”
“Didn’t you say I need to conserve my energy and channel it into getting better?”
“I did, but—”
“Why did I know there was a ‘but’ coming?”
“But that’s not a license to sit around and be a couch potato. You’ll just get weaker.”
He folded muscled arms over his chest, putting the lie to that statement. “Now I’m confused. Do I need to rest or to run a marathon?”
“You need to use common sense.” She shook her head and threw up her hands. “Look who I’m talking to. I have a feeling you don’t know the meaning of common sense.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to explain it to me.”
“It’s complicated, but an engineer like yourself should be able to get my drift. If you’re tired, rest. If you’re rested, move around until you get tired.”
“And this is related to my sponge bath—how?”
“You had a nap. Nap equals rest. You should be able to get up and hike the distance to the bathroom, take off the brace—”
“Along with my clothes,” he said pointedly.
“Yes. Unless, of course, that’s how you do your laundry. And take a shower.”
“I didn’t think it would be so easy to make you blush.” He shook his head as if he was bemused. “Like falling off a log.”
“That would be your sphere of expertise, not mine.”
“Blushing?”
“Falling,” she clarified. “But you’re really hammering this blushing thing into the ground.”
“Just pushing my advantage without mercy. Remember this the next time you gleefully extract gravel from my multiple abrasions.”
If she had anything to say about it, there wouldn’t be a next time. Megan hated that he lived on the edge without regard for his well-being. She tried not to judge him, because she had no idea how she would cope if anything happened to her child. Even though Bayleigh’s eyes would always be a source of concern, Megan would be eternally grateful for her daughter’s gift of sight. But her life, her very existence in this world, had never been in question.
She believed if the inconceivable happened to Bayleigh, she would try to do her job to the best of her ability and struggle to find joy and a reason to go on—no matter how difficult. But Simon had stopped living and didn’t seem to care if he died. The one juicy detail she’d coerced him into giving up had been about his divorce and being a workaholic.
When she’d tried to say she was sorry, he’d shut her out as if he didn’t want to talk about it. Was the breakup of his marriage somehow involved in his devil-may-care attitude? He needed to voluntarily open up and Janet had convinced her that she was his last chance.
“Earth to Megan.”
“Hmm?”
“You’re looking very serious about something,” he commented. “Is it my sponge bath?”
“You’re like a dog who won’t let loose of a favorite bone.”
“Do you blame me?”
She pumped up the blood pressure cuff—tight. “You bet I do.”
“Ow,” he said, watching her take his pressure. “Give a wounded man a break.”
“I would, if said wounded man deserved one.” She ripped the cuff off and met his gaze.
“Yesterday you said a nurse’s job is to do no harm. If I don’t get help cleaning up, the health department will come in here and condemn me. That’s pretty harmful.”
She couldn’t help smiling as she shook her head at him. “Outside of being temporarily sidelined by your leg, you’re the furthest thing from a helpless man I’ve ever seen.”
“But, Megan—”
“All right.” She stood up. “I’ll get everything ready. But there’s only one reason I’m going to do this.”
“And that would be?”
“Because you can’t get those shoulder stitches wet.” She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about that. Her only excuse was that she’d been distracted by his appeal. Which was why it wasn’t a good idea to get personally involved with a patient.
Correction: she wasn’t personally involved; their connection was purely coincidental. And she had a debt to pay.
“Now you’re talking.” He slid to the edge of the sofa. “How about if we do this in the bathroom so you don’t have to cart all the stuff over here?”
“Okay,” she agreed.
Simon wasn’t sure why tormenting Megan was so appealing. Maybe the fact that while he noted the flush of her cheeks and searched for ways to freeze it in place, there wasn’t room for painful memories. She was like anesthetic and the respite was heaven. He didn’t deserve it, but that didn’t stop him from eagerly pursuing it.
After following her into the three-quarter bath with pedestal sink and stall shower, he sat on the closed commode lid and let out a long breath. Every muscle in his body ached, even the ones he’d never been aware of before. He could have showered by himself. It would have been an effort, but definitely doable. Still, he was glad she’d caved. Having Megan involved in the process was a lot more interesting.
What had made her forget about the stitches? It was pretty basic that sutures had to stay dry. Maybe Megan Brightwell wasn’t as immune to him as she pretended.
But she continued to pretend to ignore him as she assembled soap, towels and washcloth. After turning the water on in the sink, she sudsed up the cloth. The expression on her face told him she wanted to do this about as much as a stark-naked hike in the Mojave Desert.
“Okay, Simon,” she said, grimly looking at h
im. “This is how it’s going to be. I’m going to wash and rinse the big stuff. Then in the interest of discretion, I will step out and you can do everything else.”
“Define ‘big stuff.”’ One corner of his mouth lifted when pink crept into her cheeks.
“Chest, back, arms, legs, feet,” she snapped out without meeting his gaze.
“By contrast, that infers everything else is small. Therefore, I have to assume you find other parts of me…lacking?”
“I have no data on the subject. Therefore I’m not in a position to comment.”
He would like to get her in a position to comment, he thought. The image caused stirrings he hadn’t experienced in a while, at least not that he’d noticed. It was as if he saw a speck of daylight at the end of a long dark tunnel. Now that he did, he couldn’t seem to turn away from the light.
“Nurse Brightwell, you mean to tell me when I was at your mercy in the emergency room you didn’t peek?”
Her lips twitched, but she didn’t laugh as she brushed the soapy washcloth over his chest and arms, carefully dabbing over the healing abrasions. “That would be unprofessional.”
“Instead you harbor an erroneous assumption?”
“How would I know whether or not it’s wrong?” she asked, deliberately not meeting his gaze.
“I could flash you. That would give you the necessary visual data to correct your conclusion. How about it?”
“No.”
“Take your time. Think about it. I’m in no hurry,” he said, as she washed his back. That was an understatement. She could keep that up all day and he wouldn’t complain. He closed his eyes in ecstasy as she rinsed off the soap.
“There’s nothing to think about. You’re deliberately attempting to provoke me and I refuse to react to the stimuli.” She removed his brace, then washed and rinsed the leg. After doing the same to the other one, she stood, soaped up the washcloth and set it in the sink. “It’s all yours.”
Sad but true, he thought.
Then she turned away, walked out and shut the door behind her. Simon sighed. Tomorrow was another day. And he found he could hardly wait.
“Mommy?”
Standing at the stove, Megan glanced over at her daughter. Bayleigh was sitting at the small dinette snuggled next to the tiny kitchen in their apartment. Sometime—out of nowhere—it struck Megan what a beautiful child Bayleigh was. Straight, shiny blond hair surrounded her face in a cute bob. Behind wire-rimmed glasses, huge blue eyes stared at her with all the normal expressions and reactions of a sighted child. How very lucky they were. Money was tight and a house of their own was on Megan’s wish list, but they were together. And thanks to Simon’s son, her daughter could see.
It had been five days since she’d learned of the extraordinary coincidence linking them. How could she reconcile the fact that one child had received a gift at the expense of another child’s life? It wasn’t fair. But how could she not be profoundly grateful for the miracle?
“What, Bay?” she asked tightly, her throat clogged with emotion as she whipped eggs, milk and pancake mix into batter.
“Can I have a pj day?”
On the rare occasions that there was an opportunity to be together with nothing to do, Bayleigh inevitably asked this question. After cornea transplant surgery, it had been imperative for the normally active child to stay quiet. Megan had come up with the idea of a pj day and talked up staying in pajamas, lounging in bed reading, listening to music and telling stories until Bayleigh had decided it was better than a trip to the toy store. Almost.
Thinking back, Megan remembered a nightmare. But now her life was perfect; Simon still lived the bad dream on a daily basis.
“You made me stay home from school,” Bayleigh reminded her. “I wanted to go.”
“I know you did,” Megan said. “You would go seven days a week if they’d let you.”
“I like school,” the child said, a smile dispelling the solemn look on her small face. “But I like it when you’re home, too.”
Megan had asked her boss to find a substitute nurse for Simon so she could stay home. Bayleigh didn’t have a fever, but considering the tough time she’d had as a baby and toddler, when cornea disease insidiously threatened her vision, overprotectiveness was a clear and present danger. And a constant struggle to balance. Besides, the poor kid had a runny nose and a cough that had kept her awake during the night.
Since school wasn’t an option and Megan’s mother was away at the family’s beach place, today had seemed like a good day to stay home. Especially after dealing with Simon and his daily sponge baths. Not that Megan was a coward. No way. But memories of dragging the soapy washcloth over tan skin and corded muscle made her every bit as hot as his comments about taking off his clothes.
“Please, Mom. We haven’t had a pj day in forever.”
“No, we haven’t. And that’s the best offer I’ve had in a long time. Let’s do it.”
The little girl clapped her hands. “Can I have Mickey Mouse pancakes?”
Megan met her daughter’s gaze as she stirred the batter. “Of course. That’s how a pj day starts. Why don’t you pick out the videos you want then hop in bed? I’ll bring breakfast as soon as it’s ready.”
“Ya-ay.” Bayleigh hopped down from her chair and went to the entertainment center in the living room.
Megan could hear her child going through their movie library as she dropped batter into three connected circles on the heated griddle. When the mouse shape was cooked on both sides, she used strawberries and whipped cream to make eyes, nose and mouth. After pouring juice, she arranged everything on a tray and carried it into the bedroom where the little girl waited.
Megan’s room was large enough to accommodate her queen-size bed, matching dresser and computer desk with enough space left over to move around easily. There was a walk-in closet to her left and a bath beside it. Bayleigh’s room was right next door.
The little girl, wearing flannel pajamas sporting the likenesses of her favorite television superheroines, reclined in the center of the big bed. Propped up by a mound of pillows, she wielded the remote control like a royal scepter.
“Breakfast is served, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, Mommy. You’re silly.”
“Good. That’s the way I’m supposed to be on a pj day.”
Megan settled the tray on her daughter’s lap. After allowing Bayleigh to wrestle with the pancakes for a moment, Megan finally reached over and cut it into pieces. Bayleigh ate without talking for several moments while Megan quietly sipped her coffee.
“Oh, no. Mommy, I just remembered,” she finally said, a dramatic note to her voice.
“What?”
“It was my day to bring Lucky home.”
Now an experienced kindergarten mom, Megan knew that Lucky was a stuffed bear who went home with a different student every day. He was to be treated like a member of the family and the assignment was to tell a story about what the bear did. Bayleigh had been anxious for her next turn.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. Maybe Mrs. Coates will let you bring Lucky home when you go back to school.”
“Maybe. Hannah’s after me. Maybe we can trade turns.”
“Maybe.”
“That means Lucky will have to go to soccer practice with her.”
“I’m sure Lucky won’t mind.”
“How come you wouldn’t let me play soccer with Hannah?”
“Maybe next year,” Megan said quickly.
Once Bayleigh’s eyes had healed and showed no sign of rejecting the corneas, the doctor had said Bayleigh could do anything she wanted. But Megan had never gotten over the warning right after surgery about avoiding activities that could result in a direct blow to the eyes. She wasn’t keen on the idea of Bay taking a ball in the face or the jarring of running up and down the field.
“Hannah says it’s fun,” Bayleigh persisted.
“I’m glad.”
“Her dad is the coach.”
“That’s n
ice,” she answered, stomach knotting. She braced herself for the question that always came next.
“Where’s my dad?”
“I don’t know, Bay. I haven’t heard from him in a long time.”
“Since after I was born? ’Cuz he was scared about my eyes?”
“That’s right. He didn’t know how to help when he knew you couldn’t see. That hurt him.” It had been five years and Megan still struggled to keep the anger out of her voice.
“I can see now.”
“Yes, you can.” And how could she explain that she’d contacted Bay’s dad to let him know the surgery had been successful, but he’d said he still couldn’t handle it? Megan could have made a legal stink about child support but figured if he didn’t want to be there, she and Bayleigh didn’t want or need him—or anything from him. But she couldn’t shake her guilt for getting mixed up with the loser in the first place.
“It’s you and me against the world, kiddo. We’re enough for each other, aren’t we?” she asked, slipping an arm around her child’s small, slender shoulders and pulling her close.
“I love you so much, Mommy.”
“I love you, too, sweetie.”
She didn’t miss the fact that Bayleigh hadn’t answered the question or gone out of her way to inflict guilt. Because of course Megan wasn’t enough. Every child needed and deserved a mother and a father. She’d had her sister Cassie, her brother Dan and two parents who loved them. Megan’s fondest wish had always been to give her daughter the same stability and security she’d enjoyed growing up. A perfect family, a perfect life.
And what a terrific job she’d done, she thought sadly. The man who should have loved, supported and protected their little girl had split at the first sign of trouble. Megan couldn’t tell her daughter that he just didn’t want either of them. So much for perfect.
Her thoughts strayed to Simon. Now there was a man who loved his child. So much that the idea of moving on without his son was too painful to bear, causing him to shut down. She would bet he’d been a terrific father.
Whoa, nellie!
That was a minefield and a place she so didn’t want to go. The fact that Megan was attracted to the man was irrelevant. She’d allowed her heart to lead her with Bayleigh’s father, and he’d showed his lack of a spine when the going got rough. If she ever decided to take a chance on romance, she would definitely lead with her head. Megan already knew Simon’s story, and it was a beaut. Under the circumstances, letting such a flawed man into their lives would be a mistake of monumental proportions.
Midnight, Moonlight & Miracles Page 8
