Second on the Right (17 page)

James had been trying to convince her to take
a leave from her position at the hospital. Eileen couldn’t imagine
having so much time to herself. With James typically away on
business, what would she do? She didn’t respond, and James sighed
again.

"I love you. I miss you so much. I promise I
will be back in a few days," James said softly.

Eileen swallowed back her tears. "I miss you
too. Come home soon."

"Of course," James said, followed by a
paused. "Would you promise me you'll think about taking a leave? I
mean seriously think about it? Eileen, I don't know what I'd do if
something ever happened to you. Honestly, I cannot imagine my life
without you.
Please
take care of yourself, for me?"

"I'll think about it. Promise," Eileen
answered. "I'll see you when you get back."

Ending the call, Eileen sat back staring at
the cell phone placed on the table.

The hand of fate now set the tide,

And soon the star-crossed would collide.

A code gray was announced on the overhead
intercom system. Doctor Davis had been paged. Chaos erupted on the
floor. Nurses and staff ran for safety. Security guards answered
the code to subdue the combative patient. Just as the guards were
about to swarm into the patient’s room, Eileen joined them.

"Stop!" she yelled with such force the entire
floor could hear her. Those in the patient’s room paused, including
the patient who was now in the corner of the bathroom, having
received repeated beatings from the guard. Nurse Bradford cowered
in the far corner, away from the action.

Eileen passed by each guard, giving a
seething look. The patient slumped in the corner on the floor with
a split lip. The guard standing over him had a bloodied hand and
lip and was sweating profusely.

“Doctor Davis, the patient was noncompliant.
I asked him repeatedly to allow me to help him, but then he took a
swing at me. I was afraid,” the nurse tried to explain.

In a low and serious tone, she simply said,
"Leave. See to it the nurse looks at your wounds."

The guard began to open his mouth, but closed
it quickly. The doctor watched the guards leave.

I will report this to the hospital
board,
she promised herself, not believing the type of
personnel hired for security.

Her body tense, Eileen addressed the nurse.
"You are dismissed. Take care of the guard. I will handle the
patient’s care, his complete care."

"Dr. Davis, I was only following orders. He
wasn't being compliant. I've had a long shift, I'm tired, and it is
almost time for me to clock out and go home. If he would have just
worked with me, I could have had him bathed and cleaned up in no
time," she rattled out. Eileen held up her hand, causing the nurse
to stop talking.

Quietly, she asked, "Did it ever occur to you
he might have preferred to do so on his own? I said for you to
assist him as needed. You are
excused
.
"

The nurse left in a huff. Eileen faced the
patient who was still sitting in the corner. He wiped a spot of
blood from the corner of his mouth. His hair partially covered his
eyes. She remained by the door of the bathroom.

Squatting down to his eye level, she asked,
"You have a name?"

"James, let's take a walk," Robert Benedict
said from across the room. He opened the front door and waited.

James looked over his laptop at his father.
He groaned internally. Any time his father asked to go for a walk,
it was never good. He knew what his father wanted to speak with him
about: Eileen. His father was stubborn. Denying him the walk would
do no good. With a quiet sigh, James closed his laptop, grabbed his
jacket, and headed out the door, his father following closely
behind. The two began their walk down a nearby path along the
ocean-side. For several minutes, they remained silent.

"How are you, James?"

"Good, Dad," James answered, not wanting to
offer any additional information unless asked. He cleared his
throat, looking out at the foggy ocean.

His father frowned. "Son, you know what I
mean. How are you?"

James couldn’t bring himself to look at his
father. "Dad—" he began impatiently, but the words caught in his
throat. His father was right to be concerned.

His father stopped walking and patted his
shoulder. "James, your mum and I love you very much. We are
concerned that, well, you might be discouraged, depressed. Perhaps
it would be best if you moved on. She might never be ready." His
words sounded severe.

James glared at his father, anger flashing in
his eyes. "It really is none of your business."

"I know, son," he said calmly. "Do you love
her?"

"Of course I love her. I'd rather lose a limb
than lose Eileen. I can't imagine being with anyone else. And I
know she loves me. She does. I love her, more than anything," James
rattled off, slowing when his father held up his hands in surrender
to the argument. "She's my life…" he trailed off.

"How long has it been, four year—” his father
began, but was cut off.

"Five. Five years since we first met," James
sighed softly. His shoulders slumped, and he fought to keep from
tearing up. Still looking away, he whispered, "I wonder if she'll
ever be ready for marriage. She loves me, Dad." Glancing back at
his father, his eyes glistened. "Doesn't she?"

Eileen had given him no indication she was
ready for marriage, and he had been afraid to rock the boat. He was
worried he might scare her off.

Without her, where would I be? Alone
again. No. Eileen is
the one
.

"Of course she does, son," his father said,
smiling. "Your mum was the same way, very hesitant. She'll tell you
it wasn't me that caused her to wait. It was her fear of
commitment. We think Eileen is going through the same doubts and
fears."

James ran his fingers through his hair,
looking down at the ground. "So, why did mum change her mind? How
did you finally convince her to marry you?"

His father gave a broad grin. "Persistence.
It's in the family blood, son. Decide what you want and go for it."
James looked at his father. "What? You expected something more
romantic, I suppose? Son, life is not like the movies. You're
smart, you know that. I knew your mother loved me. When the time
was right, for me, I went for it. As you will do when you are
ready. You already have the ring."

James looked surprised, his mouth open.

His dad grinned again. "You really think I'm
that stupid? Besides, that's what happens when you allow your
mother to do your laundry during your visits. There is a reason she
volunteers, you know."

James shook his head, a slight smile on his
face.

"We are not long for this world, James. It
would do our hearts good, and yours as well, if you two were to
marry. You've been dating for five years! I think you both should
know by now whether you were meant for each other. And your mother
and I think you are," his father said. "But ultimately, it comes
down to you and when you are ready. So, are you?”

James nodded. His father was right. Robert
Benedict gave his son a quick pat on the back and walked back to
the house, leaving James in thought.

Now, how can I convince Eileen that I am
the one for her?
Arms crossed, James stared into out across the
landscape. He needed to make a change, to take the initiative.
Being the CEO of a successful shipping company should have made it
quite easy to take time off, but that seemed to complicate
things.

I've got to do it.
He was determined
to make his proposal happen. He would go to New York City early and
surprise her. He would take her somewhere special, perhaps their
home in Westport, and propose to her by the water or in a boat. It
didn’t matter to him where, as long as she said yes.

Eileen repeated her question to him, "You
have a name?"

Her eyebrow rose.
Was that a smile?
It
was difficult to make out due to all the facial hair. Still, he did
not answer her question.
Perhaps he doesn't recall his name.
"No worries. You can answer the question when you are ready. For
now, how about we clean you up? Would you like assistance?"

John Doe stood up and leaned against the
wall. He shook his head.

Good, at least we are communicating, sort
of.
"How about this. You take a shower. Turn the handle like so
for the water to come out here,” she said, pointing to the
showerhead. “Soap and towel are there. Shampoo for your hair is
here. Please use them generously. Once you are finished, you can
wear these clothes. I'll wait outside. Come out when you are
finished." She smiled encouragingly at him. He nodded.

Twenty minutes later, she heard a click
indicating to her that John Doe was finished. Standing by the
window, Eileen smiled at him, hoping to put him at ease. The sun
was shining softly through the window, casting a warm glow over her
hair. Eileen's hair had been wrapped tightly in a bun; however,
after the excitement, strands had escaped the up-do and softly
framed her face.

Eileen approached him. "Excellent. Thank you,
sir. Do you feel somewhat better?"

He nodded.

"Wonderful! Now, I’d like to complete my
exam. If you’ll permit me, I need to cut your hair and shave your
mustache and beard. This will provide me with a better view of your
skin and face. I promise not to harm you. Will you please allow me
to do this?" she asked with kindness in her voice.

He seemed to be staring at her, though she
wasn’t entirely sure. At last, he nodded.

Eileen pointed for him to have a seat. She
explained the purpose of the electric razor to him. Assuming he had
been homeless for quite some time, she imagined he wasn’t familiar
with them. She showed him the piece of equipment; she then took his
hand and had him touch it to see it wouldn’t harm him. He nodded,
giving his consent.

After trimming his hair, she had moved on to
shaving. She placed her hand on the right side of his head for
support. Gently cupping his face, she continued to shave his
mustache and beard, moving. He had moved his hand to hold hers
against his face.

I've never seen a reaction like that. He must
have been on the streets for some time. Is this gratitude?

She pried her hand from his hold. In her
movements, her pendant fell into view. He reached out for it.
Startled by his movements, she realized what he was looking at.
Holding the pendant in her hand, she allowed him a closer look.

"It says, '
True love's magic is not to
avoid changes, but to navigate them successfully.'"

Eileen finished her task and stepped back to
survey her work. Before her sat a man in his forties. He had a
slight curl in his copper-graying hair as it swept to the left. A
faint scar crossed over the right eye. His teeth were brushed and
he was now clean-shaven. His left cheek was reddened and his upper
lip cut from the recent scuffle with the guard. He was dressed in a
white t-shirt, gray sweats and running shoes. A chain ran around
his neck, ending behind the folds of his shirt. His eyes were
clearly visible, a bright blue, similar to hers. His lips hinted at
a smile.

"You clean up quite nicely," she said while
concentrating on the mess all over the floor.

"Eileen," he said softly to her.

She looked up at the mention of her
name
.
That voice
.

Her eyes locked with his. The color drained
from her face as her patient stood. Feeling as if the air had been
knocked out of her, Eileen’s fingers loosened their grip on the
razor and it fell to the floor. He moved close to her, his face
inches from hers. His eyes were brimming with excitement; a broad
smile playing on his lips.