Stern Desire Love Redeemed (3 page)

"Can we go in?" he asked.

"Sure you can. I'll let the family know."

"Don't worry about it. I'll get them. By the way, I'm
J.C., Mark's friend." He extended his hand for a handshake and I took it.

"Nice to meet you, J.C. I'm Kyra. If you guys need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks. How is he doing?"

"He's doing fine. He needs to get some rest, though."

"Thanks again."

"No problem."

J.C. went into 826 and I headed toward the nurses station.
Maybe Mark was gay; he was too pretty, and J.C., his friend, was overly concerned and protective. Carlos was waiting for me at the nurses station to give his report.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Carlos." I sat next to
him for the report.

"No problem, man," he said in a fake Jamaican accent. "Mr. Mark Stone is a thirty-two-year-old, filthy rich man from Brazil. He is a no-info patient."

"What does he do?"

"Telecommunication."

"How do you know all this, Carlos?"

"It's amazing what people say when they are all drugged
up." He removed the report sheet from the chart. "So, he had an accident in the Bahamas, and had to be airlifted here to St. Mary's Hospital. Dr. Anwar was called in to do an application of external fixator and wound
debridement. He has no health history and no drug allergies. There is an order for pin site care twice a day. Check pulse in left lower extremity every four hours. He is on antibiotics, blood thinners to prevent clots, and his pain is controlled with the patient-controlled analgesia. Any questions?" Carlos
asked, as he closed the chart.

"No."

"Have fun," Carlos said, as he stood up to leave. "I'm out of here."

"Get home safely, Carlos," I said.

He waved as he left the nurses station.

"Kyra," Claire said, in her thick Haitian accent as she entered the nurses station, "he is so handsome, and his eyes are
beautiful."

"They sure are." I was still trying to recover from their effect on me. "Is he okay?"

"Yes, Kyra, his family is with him."

Anxiety built as I remembered that I would have to go into
Mr. Stone's room in an hour to hang his antibiotics. My phone rang. It was Jenn.

"Did I exaggerate?" she asked.

"About what?"

"Mr. Stone."

"No, you did not."

"How is he?"

"He's doing fine."

"What did you find out?"

It suddenly dawned on me that his admission was not done.

"I forgot about the admission."

"So, go do it."

"Jenn, his eyes do things to me I can't explain,"
I whispered. "I don't want to be in that room for too long."

"Do you want me to come up and do the admission for you?"

"Will you?" I asked, all too excited.

"If I was not so busy, maybe I would."

"So, why did you offer?" I said angrily.

"Go do your work," she teased.

"Bitch!" I said. She laughed as I hung up.

I was hoping I would be in and out of that room in five minutes, hang the antibiotics, and check his pulse. Now it looked like it was going to be thirty minutes.

"Excuse me," a soft, melodic voice said.

I looked up. Mark's mother was standing there with the rest of his family.

"We will be leaving now. J.C. and Gabby will be spending the night. Please take care of my son."

"He's in good hands. You don't have to worry."

"Do you know when he will be able to go home?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Stern, but we'll have to take it a day
at a time. I cannot give you an exact date."

"I understand," she said, disheartened.

"Can I stay, too, Mom?" the little girl by her side asked. She had the same intense hazel eyes.

"No, Amy, you'll see your brother in the morning."

"Please don't worry. Your brother is doing just fine," I said to Amy.

"You are pretty," Amy said.

"Thanks, Amy."

"Thank you, Kyra. Have a good night," Cattleya said.

"I like her," Amy whispered to her mom as they walked away.

I got the antibiotics and the admissions paperwork. I opened
the door to the sitting area of Mr. Stone's room. It was empty. I knocked on the door, and a female voice called me in. I entered the room. Mark was on his phone texting, J.C. was by the window in a recliner watching television, and
Gabby was on the sofa using her iPad.

"Kyra, this is my sister Gabby, and I think you've met J.C.," Mark said, looking up from his phone.

"I'm here to make sure he behaves," Gabby said, as
she settled into the sofa across from Mark's bed. "He can be a handful."

"Shut up, Gabby," Mark said jokingly.

She smiled.

"Nice to meet you, Gabby."

"Likewise, Kyra." She turned her attention to her iPad.

"Do you need me for anything, Kyra?" Mark asked in that mellow voice.

"I'm hanging your antibiotics," I said as I placed
the antibiotic on the pole and connected it. "I also have to do an admission, so I'll need to ask you a few questions if that's okay with you."

"Now is perfect," he said, and placed his cell
phone next to him.

I heard Mark call to J.C., and I turned around to see J.C. and Gabby walking toward the door. I jumped as the door slammed shut behind them. When I entered and saw that Gabby and J.C. were in the room, I had been
so thankful. Now I was all alone with him. Why did they do that?

I steadied my shaky hands and placed my fingers on top of the black X on his left foot where his pulse should be. I felt a tingle in my
fingertips
. He had such soft feet, nice toes, well-pedicured. I was not into feet, but I could...

"How am I doing?" he asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"Just fine," I answered and removed my hand from
his foot. The tingling lingered.

"Are you married, Kyra?"

I picked up my papers and flipped through the pages. "No, I'm not," I answered.

"Are you engaged?" he probed.

"I think I should be the one asking the questions."

"How about this: for each question you ask me, I ask you one."

"No deal. Can we get started?"

He nodded, but I knew he was not the kind of guy who gave up easily.

"What's your height and weight?"

"Five-ten, 175 pounds."

"Are you allergic to anything?"

"I have no medication or food allergies, but what I am severely allergic to is not getting my questions answered, and I tend to get this uncontrollable urge to dig further."

I shifted uncomfortably as his eyes pierced through me.

"Do you have a primary care doctor?"

He gave me the name and number of his doctor in Brazil.
"Who would you like to make health care decisions for you if you are unable to?"

"My mother."

"Name and number."

"C-a-t-t-l-e-y-a." He spelt her first name.
"Stern."

"Phone number."

He gave me her number and I wrote it down.

"Do you smoke or drink?"

"I don't smoke, but I drink occasionally."

"Are you on any medications?"

"No."

"Any health history, surgical history, psych history?"

"No."

"Any previous accidents?"

He smiled, and the warmth from his eyes traveled to the dark recesses within me. I looked away.

"Very intuitive, Kyra," he said. "Motorcycle
accident two years ago broke my left arm, and a car accident four years ago broke four of my ribs and punctured a lung."

So, he was no stranger to accidents,
I thought to myself.

"Are you a terrible driver or just plain unlucky?"

"Maybe a little of both."

"I'm so sorry. I should not have said that," I apologized.

"I'll accept that apology only if you tell me about
that beautiful ring on your left ring finger."

"Sorry, I don't want to talk about it," I snapped at him.

"I know when to back off," he said, and grimaced
as he tried to adjust himself in bed.

"Do you need me to help you?" I offered.

"Please adjust the pillows for me," he asked.

I noticed that his left wrist was wrapped with gauze.
"Did you hurt your left wrist in the accident?" I asked.

"No," he answered awkwardly.

"Can I take a look?" I reached for his hand.

"Please don't," he said abruptly. As he pulled his
hand from my reach, he winced in pain.

"Let me reposition your pillows," I said as I leaned over him, avoiding his eyes, but a very faint and familiar scent overcame me and I almost staggered backwards as the bad memories flooded in.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, with great concern on his face.

"Let's just say I'm allergic to Clive Christian No. 1."

"I thought you saw a ghost."

"I'm sorry. Can you please sign here for me?" I handed him the papers and my pen.

"Nice pen," he said, as he signed the paperwork
and handed them back to me.

"Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?"

"I'm fine, Kyra. I'll call if I need anything. Thanks for your help."

I hurried from the room. J.C. was in the sitting area
watching soccer on the television. I opened the door, stepped out into the hallway, and leaned against the wall, hyperventilating. Clive Christian No. 1 was Robert's favorite cologne and a scent that had lingered in our house for a
long time after Robert's death. I had not encountered that distinct, hauntingly rich scent of Indian sandalwood and Arabian jasmine for years until now.

Marie, another RN on the unit, came out of Room 822. She
looked at me questioningly. The frown lines on her forehead wrinkled her smooth, flawless, dark brown face.

"Are you all right, Kyra?" she asked. "Is your VIP giving you problems?"

"I'm fine, Marie," I said, controlling myself.

"Are you sure?" she insisted. "I've never seen you so flustered before. You're always so cool and calm."

I needed to get off this floor for a while, so I called Jenn
to see if she was available for lunch. She agreed to meet me in the cafeteria. I got our food, even though I did not feel like eating, and sat at a table and waited for Jenn.

"What's up? You don't usually take your lunch this
early," Jenn said, as she sat at the table. She eyed me suspiciously, and stuck a French fry in her mouth.

"My patient got me a bit flustered. That's all."

"Which patient...oh, you don't have to tell me. Mr.
Beautiful," she laughed. "When was the last time you got flustered over a man? This is big."

"This guy has been on the floor for three hours," I said. "The sound of his voice, the look in his eyes, the tingle in my
fingers when I touch him. I'm acting all weird. He asked me if I was engaged, married, what my ring meant..."

"Hey, hey," Jenn interrupted. "You know what
I think?"

"What?"

"I think you're attracted to him, and from the questions he's asking, he's interested in you."

"I don't think so."

"What? That you are attracted to him?"

"Yes."

"When was the last time you felt this way about a man? I've never heard you talk like this before."

"He is not attracted to me."

"Kyra, if I were a man, you would be my girlfriend...my wife, the mother of my children. I'd have you knocked up, tied up..."

"Can you be serious, Jenn?" She was not making the
situation any better. "He's a patient. There has to be something wrong about that. No, let me correct myself. There
is
something wrong about that. I could be brought up on charges of sexual misconduct of a health-care
worker."

"This is a very gray issue, Kyra. First and foremost, he's not a vulnerable patient, he's not cognitively impaired, he's hospitalized for an injured leg, and you did not force yourself on him or intimidate
him."

"I was taught in school that it was inappropriate to have anything other than a nurse-patient relation, and accept it as that."

"Actually, the Code of Ethics states that you are
responsible to establish and maintain ethical boundaries with your patients, and if faced with unethical issues, to remove yourself from the situation."

"What's the hospital policy?"

"Zero tolerance. Can't date a patient or patient's
family member for six months after discharge or you'll be fired."

"So, I'll be violating hospital policies?"

"Yes, and the Code of Ethics. Even if he's the one that
pursues you, they can say you did not act in the patient's best interest, and you abused your nurse-client relationship."

"What I'm afraid of is if I continue to be his nurse, I will eventually cross a whole lot of boundaries."

"Then remove yourself from the situation, Kyra."

"I don't think I can."

"Kyra, please be careful," she warned. "You
know this place. There are eyes and ears everywhere."

"Jenn, I want to do the right thing, but I can't. I don't have the mental or physical strength to separate myself from him."

She smiled. "My friend, you have got it bad, but do you
think you are the first nurse to fall for a patient? You know Kathy. Her husband was her patient, but she asked for a temporary transfer back to the ER until he was discharged from her unit."

"No." I shook my head. "Not a patient, not
me. No way."

"Kyra, there is nothing wrong with love. It's been eight freaking years. It's time for you to let go and move on. You are a beautiful person inside and out. You deserve to be happy. You need to let
someone back in your heart, baby. Life is not fair; we see that almost every day. It's your comeback that counts. You have to give love another try." She stuck some more fries in her mouth. "You are your worst enemy, you
know that? You have chased away so many good men. You remember Steven? He is now one of the best plastic surgeons in Miami. We could have gotten free work if we ever needed it. And he was hot, too."