His Private Nurse (3 page)

“Because you have to be older than you look.”

She squared her shoulders beneath the crisp white lab coat, trying to conceal how sensitive the subject was. “I'm twenty-six.”

“Holy cow! I'd have guessed eighteen, twenty, younger before I got to know you.”

Chagrined, Merrily snapped, “What makes you think you know me?”

He shrugged his left shoulder and fell back on the pillow. “I know you're the only one around here with an ounce of compassion. First they tell me to rest, then they keep me up all night with tests. What kind of sense does that make?”

“Fiscal,” Merrily answered succinctly. “The hospital labs are so busy with outpatient procedures during the day that they have little choice but to conduct inpatient tests at night. Hospitalized patients, after all, aren't going anywhere.”

“Tell me about it,” he mumbled. Then suddenly he announced, “I'm hungry.”

Merrily folded her arms. She'd noticed the “no intake” sign on his doorside clip. “What time is your surgery scheduled for?”

He looked at the ceiling. “Three.”

“Tell me what you want for dinner, and I'll make sure it's here when you get back.” She didn't have to tell him that it was the best she could do.

Sighing richly he seemed to consider, then his eyes narrowed and he said, “Pizza with chicken and shrimp, pesto sauce, black olives, pineapple and mozzarella.” He lifted his head to see how she'd taken that.

Smiling because she knew he thought he'd stumped her, she said, “Number six, Riccotini's. There's one around the corner. I'm having the salmon and sun-dried tomatoes myself.”

“Number nine,” he said, tussling with a grin.

“Anything else I can get you? Orange iced tea, maybe?”

“Mmm. About a gallon ought to do it.”

“A number six with a large orange iced tea.”

“And turtle cheesecake.”

“And turtle cheesecake,” she echoed. Chuckling, she headed for the door.

“Wait.” He waved her back toward the bed and indicated the bedside table with a nod of his head. “In the drawer.”

She opened the drawer to find his wallet. “Oh, don't worry about that.” Ignoring that, he groped the drawer blindly with his left hand until he found the wallet. Flipping it open, he laid it in his lap and extracted a twenty-dollar bill.

“Dinner's on me,” he said, thrusting the money toward her.

“Oh, no, that's all right. I was planning on going out, anyway.”

A grin spread across his face. “So? What's your name? Given name, I mean.”

“Merrily.”

The grin spread wider. “Well, Merrily, I insist on buying your dinner, since you volunteered to pick up mine. No arguments, now. It's the least I can do.”

Suddenly he stuffed the bill into the breast pocket of her lab coat. Electricity flashed through her, so strong that she stumbled backward a step—and into the corner of the bedside table, rocking it enough to send the telephone sliding toward the floor. She grabbed for it at the same time he did, and while they managed to keep the phone from falling, their arms became entwined. Her gaze collided with his and stuck.

For a moment the world and everything in it stopped. The second hand on the clock of time froze as they stared into each other's eyes. Then, slowly, he blinked and carefully extracted his arm from the loop of hers. Sinking back
onto the pillow, he cleared his throat. Merrily settled the phone.

“What, uh, what time do you think I might get to enjoy that dinner?” he asked, his voice thick.

She tried to keep her tone level, normal. “Best guess, around eight.”

He grimaced and covered his eyes with his hand. “I trust you'll still be on duty then.”

“Until ten,” she confirmed.

He said, “Good.”

Good. She tried very hard not to let that please her in any personal fashion.

“I'll, um, be in later to perform the preop.”

He let his hand fall to his side. “Sure. Better you than Nurse Disjointer.”

Merrily ducked her head to hide her smile as she fled the room.

 

Katherine Lawler lifted her patrician chin and sniffed, silver hair swinging against her nape. “All I said is that it's a pity he can't sue himself.”

“That's what's wrong with this country!” Marvin, her husband and Royce's father, proclaimed. “Everyone's sue happy. Let the blasted insurance pay for it. That's what it's for. Not that it isn't his own fault. He built the damned stairs.”

Royce groaned, wondering desperately where Merrily was with that pizza. He hadn't caught so much as a glimpse of her since he'd returned to his room nearly an hour ago. The piteous sound elicited not a glimmer from his parents.

“You sued your own partners,” Katherine pointed out.

“That was different! I had to get an accurate accounting, didn't I?”

“You already had an accurate accounting.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

The door opened, and to Royce's immense relief, his angel swept into the room, carrying two small pizza boxes and a brown paper sack.

“Finally!” he exclaimed on a long sigh, relaxing at last.

Her soft, muted-green gaze skidded right past him. Smiling at his parents, she left the pizza and sack on the bedside table. Briskly, she lifted the head of his bed and moved to the sink to moisten a cloth with antibacterial solution so he could clean his hand, saying, “Your postop exam was fine, so you get to eat now.”

“It's about time,” he said, though in truth he wasn't nearly as hungry as he thought he would be. He chalked it up to the drugs that were keeping him comfortable. He'd had a much easier time coming out from under the anesthesia this time, fortunately.

“Excuse me,” Merrily said sweetly to his parents, wheeling the lap table into place. “These little rooms get awfully crowded. Perhaps you wouldn't mind standing in the corner over there. Just in case. He's a little awkward with one hand.”

It was all the excuse his parents needed to beat a hasty retreat. Royce could've kissed her. Again.

“We'll let you enjoy your dinner in peace,” his father pronounced, lifting a hand toward his mother.

Katherine kissed the air next to Royce's cheek and instructed in her long-suffering tone, “Try not to hurt yourself again.”

Then they both went out the door without so much as a glance for Merrily. Glad as he was to see them go, Royce frowned. The least they could have done was spare
a word of thanks for the only person around here who actually made him feel better.

“Who do I speak to about getting you a raise?” he asked, closing his eyes in gratitude. “Your timing is perfect. I was contemplating a heart attack in order to get them out of here, but I'm not that good an actor.”

Merrily chortled and dug change from her shirt pocket, dropping it into the drawer of the bedside table. “The look on your face said it all. Who were they, anyway?”

“My parents.”

Her eyebrows shot up, slender, winged things with a hint of gold in their gentle brown coloring. “I guess I should have recognized them, their photos are in the paper so often.”

“Ah, you've made that connection, have you?”

“Who hasn't? Listen, I'm sorry.”

“So am I,” he quipped wryly.

“I meant, I wouldn't have chased them away if I'd realized they were your parents.”

“I use the term loosely,” he said. “They're no fonder of me than I am of them. Don't worry about it. You couldn't chase them away with a pitchfork if they didn't want to go. Now, where's my pizza?”

She checked the first box, closed it again and set it aside. “Here it is.” She opened the box and arranged it on the adjustable table in front of him, then opened the sack. Plunking napkins down in front of him with one hand, she reached into the bag with the other and extracted a small cardboard triangle containing the cheesecake he'd been dreaming about since he'd first thought of it hours earlier. She set that aside and carefully lifted out first one and then another foam cup with plastic lids. Next she removed two straws, peeled one and pushed it into the hole in the top of the lid on one of the drinks. Sliding
the large cup close to the pizza box, she picked up the other cup and reached for her own pizza. A moment ago he'd have given his house, his dream house, for a few minutes of solitary peace. Now the idea of eating alone, of being alone, seemed singularly unpalatable.

“You're not going?” he said disapprovingly, catching her wrist in his one good hand. He realized as his fingers closed around her delicate, finely boned wrist that he wasn't trying to detain her so much as he was looking for that jolt, that flash of carnal recognition that he'd felt before, when he'd stuffed the twenty-dollar bill into her pocket and discovered the unexpected bounty of her breast beneath the loose coat. It flashed through him, right up his arm to the center of his chest and straight down to his groin. It jolted the cup right out of her hand and sent it spilling across his clean, dry floor.

With a small cry, she leaped back, dismay shaping her pretty little mouth into a plump O. Royce craned his neck to glimpse the pale liquid spreading across the glossy tile, then he smiled at her, moved by a mischievous imp whose presence he hadn't felt in far too long and said, “Be glad to share.”

But she just shook her head and ran out of the room. With a sigh Royce closed the lid on his pizza. Somehow it didn't look nearly so inviting without Nurse Merrily Gage there to share it.

“L
ane, would it kill you to actually put your dirty clothes into the hamper?” Merrily asked, exasperated.

Her brother peered at her through the steam generated by the long, hot shower he'd gotten out of minutes before. “What difference does it make?”

Merrily stuffed the clothes into the hamper and straightened, brushing her ponytail off one shoulder. “It would save me the effort of picking them up.”

He shrugged and went back to combing his hair. “When you sort the laundry you're gonna pile it on the bathroom floor, anyway.”

“That's beside the point.”

Ignoring her, he tossed aside his comb and hitched up his jeans, admiring his bare chest in the mirror. “Hey, you ironed that red shirt of mine yet?”

“I haven't had time.”

“Merrily, I'm going out tonight.”

“Wear another shirt.”

“I don't wanna wear another shirt. That's my chick-magnet shirt.”

“Then iron it yourself.”

“Yeah, right. You know I can't iron.”

“Maybe it's time you learned.”

He chucked her under the chin and grinned down into her upturned face. “Baby sister, that's what you're for.” Abruptly turning pitiful, he whined, “Come on, Merrily, I'll ruin it if I try. You can whip it out in no time. Ple-e-ease.”

Merrily sighed. “Oh, all right, but from now on you put your dirty clothes in the hamper, agreed?”

Lane turned away. “Sure, sure. Make it quick, will you? The guys are picking me up in a few minutes.” He went out of the bathroom whistling.

Merrily bent and opened the cabinet beneath the sink. After extracting the steam iron as well as the cleanser for which she'd originally come into the room, Merrily straightened and looked around her. She'd spent the whole morning cleaning this one room, and now just look at it. Towels lay in a damp heap on the floor. One corner of the bath mat had been kicked up and left so that water pooled outside the shower. A wet washcloth that had been slung over the top of the shower dripped a trail down the pebbled glass wall. Why did she even bother? On every day off, she slaved to clean up this place, but not one of her brothers could be trusted to so much as straighten up after himself.

At twenty-eight, Lane ought to have been living on his own, possibly even married, but he wasn't responsible enough for that. The older two were worse. Lane at least had a social life, if trolling the club scene with his equally immature friends could be called such. Kyle, at thirty,
remained the next thing to a recluse. He considered himself superior to the others because he'd earned a master's degree in English, but he hated his job as a high school teacher and had always been more comfortable with his books than people. Jody, on the other hand, had followed their father into the U.S. Postal Service, delivering mail. It was grueling work, but not grueling enough to have turned Jody into the old man he'd become at thirty-two. Since their parents had spent a large chunk of their retirement fund on a motor home and set off to see the country more than a year ago, Jody had virtually turned into their father, taking over the family home as if he owned it and attempting to order all their lives as their strict, conservative parents had done.

That proclivity created friction amongst the siblings. Jody parked himself in front of the television most evenings and issued edicts that his brothers both protested and ignored. Merrily herself operated on the periphery, functioning as housekeeper and cook while holding down a demanding full-time job of her own. The only thing the three brothers seemed to agree upon was that Merrily deserved whatever headaches and exhaustion her life brought her since she'd opted for a career instead of marriage and the protected existence of a housewife that her mother had chosen. They conveniently overlooked the fact that marriage had not really been an option for her. Even if some guy had been interested in her, he wouldn't have braved the guard dogs her father and brothers had always become whenever anyone approached her. She knew it was their way of showing their love for her, but she also knew that if they had their way, she'd be stuck keeping house for one or all of them the rest of her life.

She'd been trying to work herself up to moving out on her own for some time now, but what was the point, re
ally? Her own social life was nonexistent and would likely remain so. Certainly she had friends, but most of them were married with young families of their own. She was Aunt Merrily to a bevy of small children whom she often baby-sat, but their parents didn't really have much time for her anymore, and because of her appearance it was difficult for her to make new friends her own age. She kept telling herself not to be so shy about it, but she couldn't seem to overcome that first dismissive look she always received when she approached other adults. The only notable exception to the rule was Royce Lawler, and even he had thought at first that she was a candy striper or some other teen volunteer at the hospital.

She wondered how he was doing and suppressed a surge of guilt at having left work the evening before without checking in on him. Really, though, how could she have faced him after she'd spilled her drink all over the floor of his room? She hadn't even gone back to clean it up. Instead she'd called housekeeping to take care of it. If she hadn't gone in there thinking they could share dinner together, she wouldn't have embarrassed herself like that. It was stupid, the way she'd started to fantasize about the man, especially since she would probably never see him again. Barring complications, he'd leave the hospital before she even returned to work. Disappointment welled up in her. She bit her lip, but then Lane yelled to get a move on with that shirt, and she shoved aside personal concerns to do what she seemed to do best, taking care of everyone else.

 

“What the hell do you mean she's not coming in?” Royce demanded of the male nurse easing his bandaged leg down onto the pillows arranged to accept it. Knowing that he was going to lose the traction bar soon was a great
relief, but it seemed secondary to the fact that Nurse Gage wouldn't be tending to it. “She has to come in. She's a nurse, and she has patients who depend on her.”

“She also has days off just like everyone else,” the man told him, his smile flashing white in his dark, squarish face. “I, Carlos, will take care of you today.”

Royce tamped down his impatience and forced a smile. “Great. That's great. Uh, when did you say Merrily, er, Nurse Gage would be back?”

Carlos shrugged, saying off-handedly, “Day after tomorrow.”

The day after? But he was due to check out of here tomorrow! Wildly he thought of stalling that for a day, but the idea of spending one more night in this torture chamber made him shudder. He might have done it if he'd been able to see his kids, but Pamela had decreed the hospital too traumatic for them, and under the circumstances he was forced to agree, so his only contact with them had been by telephone, when he could convince that suspicious nanny that he was who he said he was and should be allowed to talk to them. No, he had to get out of here so he could schedule a real visit, and the sooner the better, but that brought up a whole other set of problems.

He really couldn't manage on his own, but he would not go to his parents' house. Dale was well-meaning but no one's idea of a nurse, even if he could've spared the time from his busy practice to play that role. So Dale was calling home care agencies looking for someone to stay with Royce for the next few weeks. Royce grimaced at the thought of some stranger living in his house helping him tend to his most intimate needs, but what else could he do? Unless… He realized suddenly what had been in the back of his mind almost from the moment he'd been
told he would be going home soon. It probably wouldn't work, but he knew that he'd kick himself later if he didn't at least try.

“Listen,” he said as the nurse turned away. “I have a favor to ask. It's real important to me.”

The man shrugged good-naturedly. “Sure, as long as it is not against doctor's orders.”

“It's not against doctor's orders,” Royce promised him. “I just need you to contact Merrily, I mean Nurse Gage, for me. Can you do that?”

Obviously surprised, the man stroked his chin. “I don't know. Personally I hate to be called on my day off.”

“Please,” Royce said. “If you could just get her a message, tell her I need to see her… Look, I'll pay you. It's that important.”

The man seemed insulted. “You do not have to pay me. If it is that important to you, I will see what I can do.”

Royce relaxed slightly. “Thanks. H-how soon? I mean, how soon can you call her?”

Carlos Espinoza glanced at his watch. “I have a break in about forty minutes. I will try then.”

Forty minutes. Royce bit his tongue to keep from urging the fellow to make the call now, immediately, instantly. Forty minutes, and then how long before he heard from her? Would he hear from her at all?

 

Merrily sat in the kitchen thumbing through a magazine. When the phone rang, she didn't even look up, knowing that Jody would prefer to get it himself. A moment later, when he yelled for her, she felt a mild spurt of surprise. Rising from the table, she walked to the end of the bar that separated the den from the kitchen. Jody sat in his recliner, staring at the television screen.

“What is it, Jody?”

He didn't look away from the screen. “That call was for you.”

She folded her arms. “Why did you hang up, then?”

“Guy said that a Mr. Lawler wants to see you. I said I'd pass the message. That was it.”

Royce! For a moment she stood frozen in place. He wanted to see her. She didn't stop to wonder what he wanted or why it was important enough to contact her at home. She didn't question who had actually made the call or when or how she was supposed to make contact with Royce Lawler. She only knew that he wanted her, and that was more than enough at the moment.

“I'm going out,” she announced as she moved back through the kitchen. Jody shouted at her that it was too late to be going out, though in truth it was only a little past eight. Ignoring him, she grabbed her handbag from her room and, mindless of the sandals, shorts and simple tank top that she wore, darted out through the garage door.

Her small, two-door car sat curbside in front of the house. Lane, who was in construction, always got the garage because the tools piled in the back of his pickup were liable to be stolen if he left the truck out, or so he claimed. Merrily couldn't help recalling that when their parents had been at home and their mother had parked her car in the garage, Lane's truck had sat beside their father's in the drive and nothing had ever disappeared from the back of his truck then. Now Jody parked in the drive, leaving one side free for Lane to come and go, and she and Kyle jockeyed for position curbside in front of the house.

For once, Merrily was glad that she didn't have to back out of the garage past Jody's SUV and ease between Kyle's sedan and the neighbor's minivan into the street. It was much easier just to jump behind the wheel and take
off. By the time Jody figured out she wasn't paying him any mind, heaved himself up out of the recliner and made it to the front door to yell at her again, she was already pulling away from the curb.

The hospital was less than ten minutes away from the house, which was one reason her parents had agreed three years earlier that she should take the job there. She had never regretted the decision. She loved nursing. She was good at it, and the money was generous enough to allow her to pay off her school loans in record time, make a substantial down payment on the sporty little economy car she was driving and stash a sizable amount in savings every month.

As she parked in the employee's lot and hurried into the hospital, she thought again that she really ought to move out on her own. She could afford it. Why she should consider doing so now, however, was something she did not want to address. Instead, she concentrated on getting where she wanted to. The moment she entered his room, however, she realized that she could have chosen a more opportune moment to visit, since the room was already crowded with medical staff, all of whom clustered around the side and foot of his bed.

The traction rod had been removed, and they were in the process of replacing the heavy bandages on his right leg with a stabilizer, which was really just a heavy elastic bandage with steel rods attached and Velcro closures. It would serve in place of the old-fashioned plaster cast, such as the one on his right arm and shoulder, and allow the doctors to periodically check the surgery incisions required to properly set his leg bones. After counting four practitioners, including the doctor, his assistant and two nurses, Merrily knew that she didn't need to be in that room at that moment.

All thought of beating a hasty retreat evaporated when Royce spotted her and exclaimed, “Merrily! Hey. Come on in.”

Carlos Espinoza glanced over one shoulder, grinned and said, “That was fast.”

So it was Carlos who had left that message.

Royce waved her over, exclaiming, “Free at last! Man, that traction stuff is for the birds.”

“If you don't stay off this leg,” the doctor warned from the stool rolled close to the bed, “you'll be right back in it.”

“Don't worry,” Royce replied meaningfully. “I'm not going to do anything stupid.”

The doctor looked up at Merrily, who had moved to stand next to the head of the bed, and said, “See to it that he doesn't.”

She thought it odd that he should direct his orders specifically at her, but she just nodded. The orderly at the doctor's elbow slid the spread stabilizer beneath Royce's leg, which the two nurses held suspended slightly above the bed. Bright red with white trim, the contraption would be hard to miss in the weeks it would have to be worn. The nurses gently lowered Royce's leg, and though he winced when it met the padded lining of the stabilizer, he winked at Merrily and said softly, “Thanks for coming.”