The Wish List (9 page)

“Cory, in a little while, Dr. Murphy will be coming over. You know who that is?”

His solemn nod was answer enough. Faith lowered herself to the floor, cross-legged, and pulled her son onto her lap. She wrapped her arms around him and began to rock. Dropping a light kiss on the top of his head, she felt the slight heat in him. It was almost time for another dose of acetaminophen.

Cory sighed and snuggled closer. “Big boys do not get rocked,” he announced, even as he settled his head into the curve of her arm.

Faith kissed him again. “You know that’s not true. When they’re sick, even big boys get rocked. It’s part of what helps you get better and makes the sick part not quite so bad.”

“Is that what you do with the people who are sick? Like that doctor guy that’s coming over?”

Faith smiled against Cory’s hair. He was so transparent in his jealousy, so much the wistful little man.

“No, silly,” she whispered into his scalp. “You know that you’re the only one who gets this super extra special treatment. But...I did want to talk to you about Dr. Murphy before he gets here.”

“What about?”

“Well...” Faith draped her arms more closely about him. “You know how you’re scared of things sometimes?”

Cory tilted his head back, considering the question. “Like monsters...the ones that hide under the bed?”

“Cory...you know there aren’t any monsters...”

“I know, Mom, but still...”

“Okay, all right, like monsters, then. Well, sometimes grown-ups have things that scare them, too.”

The deep brown eyes that stared up at her narrowed suddenly with suspicion.

“Are you afraid of monsters, too?”

She touched her nose to his. “Didn’t I just tell you that there are no monsters?”

Relief tinged his small smile. “Okay, maybe snakes then.”

Faith tilted one shoulder. “
Maybe
snakes. But that’s not what I’m talking about. Sometimes people, for their own reasons, are afraid of things that don’t seem scary at all to most of us. Like Dr. Murphy, for example.”

“He’s afraid of something? But he’s a man.”

“Being a man doesn’t make any difference at all, Cory. Even the strongest man is afraid sometimes. It’s all right to be scared at times. It’s normal. But Dr. Murphy is…maybe not afraid, but he’s uncomfortable around children. You know what I mean?”

“He doesn’t like kids?” Cory’s voice was filled with disbelief, and Faith felt a faint sense of relief, of satisfaction. Cory’s own father hadn’t wanted him, hadn’t liked children at all, and yet her son was so secure. He knew nothing of rejection...yet. She hoped to high heaven that he’d still be so blessed by the time this evening was over.

“Um...well, it’s not so much that he doesn’t
like
kids, but they make him nervous. Okay?”

“I guess so.”

“So, what I’m saying, Cory—” she shifted him in her arms so he was facing her completely “—is that I’m going to give you your medicine, and when the doorbell rings, I want you to crawl into bed. Or if you’re not sleepy, I want you to play quietly in your room while the doctor’s here. All right?”

“So I won’t scare him?”

She nodded. “Sort of. Yes. And I’ll come to you just as soon as he’s gone. Can you do that, do you think?”

He studied the situation a second or two, then slowly nodded, climbing off of her lap. “I ‘spose so.”

Cory trailed Faith as she went to the locked cabinet and took out his medicine. He made a face when the liquid went down, then allowed himself to be led off to bed.

“Mom?” he asked, his little brow furrowing. “If that doctor’s scared of a little kid like me, what do you think would happen if a real monster came through the door? I mean, I always thought that men, that daddies, weren’t scared of stuff, but I don’t think this one would be much good in a ‘mergency, do you? Maybe you better put that down on the list when you get a chance. Put down ‘not scared of kids or monsters,’ okay?”

“Bed, Cory,” she ordered, trying to stifle her smile. “And yes, I’ll put whatever you want on the list. For now, you just skedaddle off to bed.”

He nodded, climbing under the covers. “Okay, but if I wake up, can I play with the little piano Mandy brought me?”

Faith frowned. He really should be getting some rest, but she felt guilty for forcing him into confinement during Nathan’s visit. And it wouldn’t be for long, anyway. “If you play quietly,” she finally agreed. “And if you start feeling sick, if something’s really wrong, you call me, all right?”

“Like if I have to hurl?”

“Hurl? Cory, where on earth did you get that term?”

A cough convulsed his small body, making the blankets shake. Faith moved forward, putting her arm about him, soothing his skinny little frame with long strokes of her hand.

Looking up at her with red-rimmed eyes after the coughing spell had passed, Cory tried a smile. “I saw it on TV, Mom. Don’t you ever watch TV?”

She did, now and then, but Faith couldn’t help thinking once again that Cory was watching entirely too much, and possibly watching things that were inappropriate for a four-year-old. If she had her way, if she was with him all the time...but she wasn’t. She’d just have to speak to Mandy, that was all, Faith thought as she tucked Cory in and left the room.

But talking to Mandy would have to wait. For the next few days, Cory was home sick. And for the next hour or so, Faith’s mind was going to have to be concentrated on someone other than her son. On Nathan.

She sat down to wait and wondered why she suddenly felt so nervous. Last night was over. That kiss had meant nothing. It had been a mistake, and both of them knew that. There was absolutely no danger of it happening again.

~ ~ ~

Faith’s house was very small; As if the architect had wanted to build a model before he moved on to the real thing, Nathan thought as he pulled his car into the long, narrow drive. Made of plain white clapboards, the house sat well back from the street, a well-tended yard stretching out to the side.

Nathan wondered if the yard was what had sold her on the place—he remembered she’d said how much she liked green—or was this simply all that she could afford? That last thought nagged at him, reminding him of how she’d told him that she had no choice but to accept him as a patient.

It wasn’t pleasant knowing that Faith had been forced to take him on, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that. The door flew open before he’d made it up the steps, and the look on Faith’s face wasn’t one of welcome.

“You drove?” she demanded, motioning toward the big Suburban he’d left at the curb. “Who gave you permission to drive?”

Nathan was still standing on the second step down from Faith. From here, he could look directly into her eyes, narrowed in frustration.

“You’re saying I needed to ask your permission before I rented a car and got behind the wheel? Seems a bit bossy of you,” he said, wanting to see if he could make her bristle even more.

He did. She was. At his implication that she was taking her role too far, Faith’s chest began a rapid rise and fall that lifted the soft yellow cotton of her blouse and brought her breasts close to his chest. Or maybe it wasn’t his challenge that had disturbed her. Perhaps it was his nearness, the sudden realization that the last time they’d been this close, he’d been on the verge of losing all control, of sliding his palms up under her blouse, seeking skin, resting his hands beneath the heavy fullness of her breasts, then—

Nathan frowned at his fantasies. Faith wasn’t even looking at him; her attention was pointedly on the car. It wasn’t his proximity to her that was disturbing her breathing. The woman was angry, just plain angry. And all because he’d gotten behind the wheel of a car without calling her first.

The thought made him smile. “Lighten up, Faith. It wasn’t that big a deal once I got my hands on the wheel.” He stroked one finger across her mouth to ease her frown away.

Immediately she stepped back. “You could have been hurt,” she insisted, moving aside to let him in. “And now I’ll bet you think you’re going to drive home when it’ll be dark by the time we’re done. Well, you can just chase that thought down the wind, Dr. Murphy. You’ll leave here in a cab.”

“Dr. Murphy?” he asked. Wow, the woman really was miffed.

“Forget it, Faith. I made it behind the wheel once. I’ll be fine from now on. Like I said, it was nothing. And Dan was with me when I leased the thing, anyway.”

His last comment effectively shut her up. Rolling her eyes, she turned to lead him to the table she had set up for his session.

“You know, I really am beginning to wonder about Dr. Anderson,” she said. “He makes it far too easy for you to get around him.”

“That’s why I have you. To make sure that I don’t get away with a thing.”

Bad choice of words, Murphy
, Nathan told himself, watching the faint hint of pink creeping up Faith’s neck. His words brought back too many memories of the night before, when he had definitely been trying to get away with something. But he could see she wasn’t going to mention it, and he had to give the woman credit for control. She should have let him have it with both barrels.

She had swirled all that long hair up onto her head today. The way he’d once wished she would, thinking she’d be less enticing with her hair out of sight. But he’d been wrong. With her hair piled high, the long length of her neck was exposed and vulnerable. A wisp of a curl had slipped down, and his attention was drawn to the pale ivory skin peeking through.

Faith must have seen the way his eyes trailed up the slope of her shoulder to her naked jawline and on to her earlobe, for her blush deepened just a shade. She cleared her throat. “So, you did okay, then? Driving, I mean?”

“Fine,” he agreed, submitting his hands for her inspection. No way was he going to tell her that when he and Dan had taken possession of the Suburban, a cold sweat had broken out over his body, and he’d practically had to force himself into the driver’s seat. Or that once he’d climbed inside, he’d sat there for long minutes, gasping for breath, his head resting on the steering wheel.

Dan had suggested that they might take it slowly, and simply practice sitting in a car for a few weeks, possibly get a therapist involved.

That was all it took, the thought of letting someone else into his life. He was barely surviving Faith.

No, that was a lie. He’d kissed her. He wasn’t surviving her at all.

Still, the thought of letting someone other than Faith inside his world had sealed the deal. He’d closed his eyes, snapped the belt closed, and started the engine. Things hadn’t been “just fine,” but he had driven, nonetheless. He was here in one piece, and somehow he would manage to get home again. He wondered if Faith realized how hard he’d had to fight not to glance to the empty passenger side of the car, remembering the accident and all that he’d lost.

She must have. There was still that look in her eyes, the one he was sure a thousand patients had seen. Worry, caring, concern. Those emotions flowed from Faith as naturally as raindrops sliding down a slippery windowpane.

“Well, that’s good then,” she said. “It means you’re one step closer.”

“Closer?”

“To recovery. To getting back your career, your life.”

But he would never get back his life. Not ever. It wasn’t even something he dreamed about or wanted.

“Come on.” He held up his palms. “I know you’re dying to start torturing me after I’ve argued with you so much today. Let’s go. Make me squirm, Faith.”

Her face was sun-kissed pink, her eyes a dangerous dark aqua when she reached out to him. He’d meant to antagonize her, to get her eyes to flash. Anything was better than that butter-warm look of concern she wore so well, the look that really did torture him. Because it made him wonder what life with a woman like her would be like. And that was the kind of thinking he wouldn’t allow himself.

“You want torture, Murphy?” she asked, sliding her hands onto his. “You want to start doing things without consulting your therapist first? All right then, you’re going to have to show me some real progress. We’re going to sweat and strain today. You’re going to show me just what you really can do with these hands, Doctor. I want to see a hint of the man who made magic in the operating arena.”

But she was smiling as she said it, no rancor in her voice. Because she really did intend for him to operate again, Nathan knew. Because she really did have faith in his abilities. It was a humbling thought, a terrible thought.

And damn it, he wasn’t going to let her down.

Nathan worked.

He worked until he thought that his hands would start shaking and, abruptly, Faith pulled back. As if she’d known.

“Time for a short rest, then you show me what you’re doing at home before we call it a night. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She was going to check on her son, wasn’t she? He’d figured that the boy was sleeping when he hadn’t heard a sound from the rest of the house.

Now, with Faith gone, Nathan circled the room, not sure what to do, not really wanting to stare at her possessions and discover what the real Faith Reynolds was like. He knew the therapist, but this was the woman. And the therapist was dangerous enough.

But still, he looked. Lots of flowers in the house. Lots of white wicker. No toys in this room. No trace of her son at all, except for the pictures hanging on the wall. Dark hair, dark—very dark eyes, with a smile that said “Look at me, Mom! I’m the happiest kid alive.”

Quickly Nathan turned away...and came face-to-face with Faith. A wary, worried Faith. And he didn’t want her to worry about him.

“Nice-looking kid,” he said with a phony smile. “Doesn’t look like you, though. Not at all.”

“No.” She relaxed a bit at his smile and his easy conversation. Nathan knew suddenly that she’d put all her son’s toys away for his sake, because of what he’d told her that first day, because of Amy.

“No,” she repeated. “Cory looks nothing like me. He’s Jim through and through...physically, anyway.”

Her words sent Nathan back to the picture, looking at her boy while trying to see the man who’d been married to Faith.

“Your ex-husband, does he still live around here—or maybe you’re widowed?”