Ben smiled as he led his family away. Bernie lingered a second longer, then waved as he followed the group.
Then the sound of Bob Marley’s “Stir It Up” reached her. It was muffled…but she recognized the song anyway.
Our song, Owen had said.
Wow, there was really no escaping thoughts of him. He was right about it evoking a memory of their dance, though. She narrowed her eyes as she looked around to see where the sound was coming from, as the same several bars repeated.
A ring tone?
Her gaze landed on Bernie walking away. She couldn’t be perfectly certain, but it sounded like it was coming from the mascot.
Chapter 6
With Dr. Madsen at her side, Paige led the way to the burn unit hospital rooms the next day—a box of mini chocolate bars in hand. She always brought treats for the kids when she was visiting the ward. The smallest surprise brightened their day. Reaching the desk, she handed the box to the head nurse and said, “These are nut- and gluten-free. Can you hand them out to the kids?”
Clara smiled as she accepted them. “Sure…as long as I don’t eat them first.” She set them aside. “Who are we here to see?” she asked, checking her charts.
“Ashley Morrison. She’s scheduled to meet with Dr. Madsen.”
“I have the appointment right here.”
Paige looked around. “Are both parents with her?”
Clara nodded. “Yes. They came in together just a few moments ago. You can find them in meeting room 406.”
“Great, thank you. And if a…big Saint Bernard is looking for us, wearing a hockey jersey and ice skates…”
Clara laughed. “But only if he’s wearing a hockey jersey and skates…not expecting any others are you?” she teased.
“That’s the only one,” Paige said with a playful swipe at the head nurse. Clara had worked the desk for years, therefore she’d been there for all of Paige’s own surgeries—the good days and the tough ones. A lot of the nurses and doctors on staff in the burn unit were more like friends to her now.
“Meeting room 406 is away from the regular patient rooms,” Dr. Madsen said, leading the way. “That should help ease their anxiety a little.”
Paige nodded. But could anything ease her own anxiety? In three hours, she’d be getting ready for her own procedure. The day before, amid the fun and chaos of the tournament, she’d barely had time to stress over it. But that morning, she’d awoken in a panic, a sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with her required fasting. She felt that way before each surgery. The fear of going under general anesthesia never subsided. And apprehension over the results was hard to keep at bay.
Worrying didn’t make anything better.
She forced a breath, pushing her own concerns to the back of her mind. Right now, she needed to focus on Ashley and her parents. It was three minutes to twelve, but she didn’t see Bernie—or Owen—anywhere. He still had time, though. They would bring him in after they’d talked to the little girl and her parents.
Bernie won’t let you down, Owen had said. She wondered if he’d be there as well?
She hoped not. This situation was tense enough. Her day was stressful enough.
“You okay?” the doctor asked as they rounded the corner toward room 406.
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine…” Turning and seeing the Saint Bernard behind them, and no Owen in sight, she breathed a sigh of relief. “The symbol of hope is here.” She smiled as he reached them. “Hi, Bernie. Thank you so much again for everything yesterday and for being here today.”
Thumbs-up sign.
“This is Dr. Madsen.”
“Hi,” the doctor said, extending a hand.
An oversized paw reached out to shake it, and the doctor laughed. “So it’s Bernie, then, or should I call you something else?”
The mascot shook his head, pointing to the lettering on the back of his jersey.
“Bernie is the strong, silent type,” she told her doctor.
The strong, silent, sexy, mysterious type.
* * *
Standing outside the meeting room door, Owen’s heart ached as he listened to the doctor explain the skin grafting procedure to the little girl and her parents. While the parents had a lot of questions about the success rate, the recovery process, and the complications of opening new wounds at a donor site, the little girl was quiet. He heard tears. Lots of them.
Once the doctor answered all the questions and the room went silent, Paige spoke, and even from out in the hallway, he could feel the energy in the room shift as she told her own story.
“I’m not going to pretend this journey is easy. It can be a long and challenging process, but you are so brave to be starting this today.” She paused. “It took me a lot longer to get to your level of bravery.”
He leaned slightly around the corner and saw her remove her sweater. The long stretches of damaged skin he could see on her shoulder and back of her arm made his chest ache for her. He had scars, too, and he understood the impact they could have on a person. He credited his training in the Marines for the mental toughness he’d needed to get through the first few weeks after the explosion.
Paige was just as tough, and this little girl would be, too.
“My arms and neck have been through a few surgeries like the one doctor Madsen is suggesting. The difference is mine are split thickness grafts, only involving the top two layers of skin. Because you are still growing, we recommend the full thickness grafts. That way the new skin will grow with you and you won’t need future procedures,” she said.
They were thinking long term, not a quick fix. There really was no such thing.
“So, you’ve had these surgeries already, but you still have scars?” the little girl asked.
“Yes. But my burns were a little different than yours, and my skin is older. It doesn’t have the same capacity to rebuild cells the way yours does. And mine actually looks a lot better now.” She paused, and Owen leaned to look inside again.
She was holding several pictures. “Would you like to see before?”
Ashley nodded hesitantly, and Paige handed over the pictures. “Wow. These were the scars before? They look so much better. Not as scary and dark.”
“Exactly. They are just scars,” Paige said, and he saw her smile as she took the little girl’s hand.
“There really is an incredible difference,” he heard the mother say.
“Yes.”
“Is this as far as you plan to go?” the father asked. “Sorry, I hope that’s not too personal or inappropriate,” he added quickly.
Paige shook her head. “Not at all. I’m actually having a similar surgery later today. And I’m hoping to see even more positive results.”
She was having surgery that day? Owen’s stomach did an involuntary flip.
“Ashley, the main thing I want you to focus on is that things do get better. Where you are today, what you’re feeling, is not where you will always be. These feelings will change. You’re allowed to feel anger and sadness. You’re allowed to get upset and cry. But my hope is that you will also feel the love and support of your family, your friends, Dr. Madsen, and myself. And I hope that each day throughout this process, you can find a reason to smile.”
He swallowed a lump in his throat.
She was an incredibly inspiring woman. She was incredible. The day of her own surgery, she was here providing support and hope for this little girl. And he thought he couldn’t possibly be falling any harder.
“On that note,” she said, excitement creeping into her voice. “We have a surprise for you. A special visitor…Can we ask him to join us?”
Owen cleared his throat, grateful he wouldn’t need his voice. Ashley was depending on him.
“Okay…” Ashley sounded reluctant, but a second later, as he entered the room, her face lit up. Tears filled her eyes, but she also smiled.
Bernie was her reason to smile that day.
* * *
Her own
fear and lack of confidence as she was wheeled into the operating room made Paige feel like a fraud. Another little girl had believed her and trusted her that day. Why couldn’t she believe that this procedure could help? She knew the stats on success rates better than almost anyone…maybe that was why.
Her heart rate eased and her mind had no other choice but to start to drift as the medication they’d put in her IV took hold. A familiar sensation—one she didn’t like—one she knew meant in a few seconds she’d be unable to control anything and her fate was in someone else’s hands.
The lights on the ceiling began to blur, and she couldn’t feel her arms or legs. Her eyes drifted closed and reopened slowly. An image of Bernie appeared somewhere in her relaxing subconscious, and she felt her lips curl into a smile.
* * *
Owen paced the hospital burn unit waiting room, cold coffee in an unsteady hand. Two hours since he knew Paige had been wheeled into surgery, and finally the television monitor on the wall, providing updates for family members, now indicated that she was in recovery.
He shouldn’t be there. It wasn’t like he could actually see her. He just hadn’t been able to leave after finding out she was scheduled for surgery that afternoon. He’d put his Bernie costume in the trunk of his car and sat in the waiting room, the same four-hour-old coffee in his hand…waiting.
But now he should go. She was in recovery. If something had gone wrong, they wouldn’t have moved her in there.
He glanced at the monitor. Room 312. Just down the hall. He could ask the nurse at the desk to let him in for just a second. Long enough to see her recovering peacefully. Long enough to see for himself that she was okay.
But the hospital rules were strict—family and close friends only. He was neither. Just some guy falling in love with her.
He tossed the coffee cup into the trash can and headed for the door.
“Owen?” a voice behind him said.
He turned to see Isabelle coming down the hall with an armful of candy bags. “Hi,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. Would Paige’s mother think he was a total creep for being there? He glanced at the candy. “Gummy bears?” He counted five bags.
She smiled. “She’ll never admit to it, but she’s a closet gummy bear eater. They’re her favorite. It’s the only thing she wants after surgery.” Her smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of concern as she glanced at the monitors.
“I guess you’ve been here before, huh?”
“A few times.” She studied him. “Have you been here the whole time?”
He nodded, running a hand through his hair.
“Did she tell you she had surgery today?”
He shook his head. “I kind of overheard her talking to that little girl, Ashley, this morning.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and he knew she knew. “Yep, I’m Bernie,” he said quietly.
Her mother smiled. “I knew it.”
“Really? How?”
“Bernie has a slight limp…same as yours.” She waved a hand. “It’s not that noticeable…I just see everything.” She gave him a pointed look.
“Well, I was just leaving. She’s in recovery now, so…”
“I’d ask you to stay. In fact I think seeing you would do my daughter a lot of good…but unfortunately, what I think is best for her and what she thinks is best for her are two very different things.”
“I understand. I just…couldn’t leave.” He waved goodbye. “See ya, Isabelle.”
“Hey…maybe she’d be okay with a visit from Bernie?”
His shoulders slumped as he shook his head. “Sorry, but it’s not Bernie I want her to need or want.” He gave another wave as he pushed through the door. “Take care of her for me.”
Chapter 7
The skin graft hadn’t taken. Two weeks post-op, her body had once again rejected the skin transplant. The last two procedures had failed to deliver the results they were hoping to see, and she wasn’t sure how many more times she could put herself through the anticipation, fear, and disappointment.
Maybe it was time to stop.
Fighting the tears burning the back of her eyes, Paige shook it off as she opened her calendar. Since coming back to work three days ago, her schedule had been full of back-to-back meetings with the board of directors, hospital officials, and fundraising planning committees from several other hospital departments who would also benefit from the new equipment the hospital hoped to purchase in the fall.
Eight a.m.—Corporate Partnership Meeting.
She frowned, scrolling through her emails. She didn’t remember adding that one to her calendar, but she’d been in a fog the last few days…
There were no emails about a corporate partnership, and she was sure she’d remember something as big as that. Her heart raced a little as she glanced at the clock. Seven forty-eight. Great. Twelve minutes to prepare for a hugely important meeting that she knew nothing about. Her mother must have scheduled it.
More detail in the notes would have been great, Mom.
She peered through her office window toward the reception area, but her mother had yet to arrive. However, it appeared her appointment was early.
She sighed, seeing Owen standing in the hospital hallway outside of the locked door.
Let him in, or let him wait?
Better question—cancel the appointment or go through with an awkward, uncomfortable face-to-face with a man she hadn’t seen since their disastrous date? Not that he’d been far from her mind. Especially the last few weeks, when she was at home with little to do but take it easy and wait for the procedure site to heal.
She’d even dreamed of him several times in the first few days following the surgery, but she’d blamed it on the high-dosage pain meds. Whatever the cause of the dreams, forgetting about him as she’d hoped she would had been difficult. And seeing him when she was already feeling low about her results was not a great idea.
She bit her lip, staring at his back through the window.
But if he really was there to talk about a potential corporate partnership with the Colorado hockey team, it would be worth the stress of the meeting.
She stood and, putting on her sweater, walked to the door and unlocked it, avoiding his gaze through the glass. Her stomach did a flip seeing him in a charcoal suit, white dress shirt opened at the collar, his hair slicked to one side neatly…unlike the spiked sexy mess he usually wore. Today he looked all business. So why wasn’t she able to keep her feelings in check? After weeks of no contact, she hadn’t expected to still experience the butterfly nerves at the sight of him.
“Hi…Isabelle isn’t here yet, but I assume you’re my eight o’clock?” she asked, keeping as much emotion from her voice as possible.
“You didn’t know about it.” He nodded. “Explains why you agreed to it.”
She wanted to say he was wrong, that an opportunity for a partnership would be something she could always put personal feelings aside for, but she couldn’t. “Come in. Coffee?”
“No, thank you,” he said, following her into the office. He sat in the chair opposite her and folded one ankle casually over the other knee and she forced a silent, deep, steadying breath.
Just get straight to it.
“So, the Avalanche are interested in a potential partnership?”
“No.”
She frowned. If he was wasting her time…If this was an excuse to see her…
He must have sensed her brain about to explode because he continued quickly. “Each player has his own foundation—the non-douchey players anyway.”
Her face almost cracked into a tiny smile, but she banished it. Do not give him even the slightest hope. “Right.”
“And I spoke to Ben about expanding his regular list of charities to include the Burn Treatment Center. He already supports the children’s hospital, so it’s not much of a stretch for him. He agreed he’d like to go ahead with that.”
Wow. That was easy. Tying a big hockey superstar to their fundraising goin
g forward could help a lot. Of course, it wasn’t like they’d have Ben at their beck and call. For the most part, it would be money and his foundation’s name on sponsorship, but it would be a huge boost for them. “That’s amazing.” She paused. “Ben couldn’t be here?”
“He had to be at the arena today. Fall training camp starts this week. But he is definitely in. I can get him to sign any documents this week.”
She nodded. “Great.” She was practically speechless. She was so glad she took this meeting. She knew he had a lot…or everything to do with this. But he was still the jerk who double-booked dates. She cleared her throat. “Thank you, Owen.”
“Anything for you,” he said, bringing emotions right back into the game. Damn.
An awkward silence followed, and she tried desperately to look anywhere but at him, but the pull of his gaze was magnetic. In his eyes she saw so much. Raw, unshielded emotion that was poking holes through her armor. “Um…”
His cell phone made a vibrating noise before the sound of his ring tone had her heart racing.
He reached to silence it just as Bob Marley’s voice started to sing. “Sorry about that. I thought it was off.”
“Stir It Up?” she asked coldly, a different set of emotions overwhelming her. So it had been a ring tone she’d heard at the golf course…his ringtone. Bernie the mascot’s ringtone. They were one and the same.
“Yeah. I know it seems slightly stalkerish…”
“You’re Bernie?” She could feel color fade from her cheeks. He’d been at the golf course that day. That incredible body was his. Those scars…those sexy-as-hell tattoos. That amazing spirit and energy were his. The connection she’d experienced to a freaking stuffy was really another connection to him?
Her head hurt. And he’d been there two weeks ago during Ashley’s appointment. He’d heard her own story. He knew about her own scars—had probably seen them—and knew she’d had her own surgery. Her mouth was dry.
“Yes, I’m Bernie,” he said.
Maybe This Summer Page 7
