A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel (22 page)

Claire read the information before tucking the notes into her pocket. “Anything I should know about this Melanie Holcomb?”

Rita couldn’t share medical information, but the emotional condition of a patient was just as important.

“Young. Single mother. Prefers Mel. She’s upset about her little boy’s future. Her mom has him right now, and I’m not sure what’s going on. But something’s definitely worrying her.”

“The note says her kid is coming by later today. I’ll see what I can do about getting her spruced up. Me and my magic bag of tricks.” She ran her thumbs under the straps of her heavy backpack, waggled her fingers and strode off.

Two doctors, deep in conversation, nodded at her as she passed by them in the hall. First stop, a teenager whose once thick mop of shaggy brown hair was now a quarter-inch of re-grown fuzz. She loved to experiment with makeup and Claire indulged her today with shades of delicate pink and sparkly gold. Next was Sadie, the fifty-ish patient who’d requested a head shave.

Claire followed that task with a facial, a light application of makeup and a pretty headscarf that complemented the woman’s eyes. This one had a great attitude. If such a thing could make a difference, and Claire needed to believe it did, the woman would beat the odds.

She’d stalled on the woman in 312 as long as possible. Women near her own age were the hardest to deal with.

Claire stood outside the door and paused. She knew all too well what to expect behind it. Although Rita hadn’t divulged the medical condition of her patient, Claire had seen the truth in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her way inside.

The young woman lay still, skin sallow, lips pale and dry. Her eyes were closed, sparse lashes a shade darker than the skin beneath them. Although the heart monitor beeped steadily, the cancer had taken its toll. Illness hovered in the air like thick, choking smoke. Claire took a deep breath and released it slowly.

The woman’s eyelids fluttered open, as if she’d sensed Claire’s presence. Dull eyes the color of cocoa powder stared at Claire for a moment before the corners of her mouth quirked into the ghost of a smile. “They said you weren’t a run-of-the-mill angel.”

“Excuse me?” Was the woman delusional?

“I told the doc if you could make me look presentable, you had to be an angel.”

“Ah.” Claire grinned and glanced over her shoulder. “Darn. Still no wings. You’ll be surprised what I can do without them. I think it’s more the magic of cosmetics than anything angelic, especially in my case,” she said with a self-deprecating roll of her eyes.

A real smile resulted from her silliness, showing an echo of beauty where before there had only been fatigue. Good. That’s what her mission here was all about.

“Thanks. I’m Mel.”

“I’m Claire. But I haven’t done anything to thank me for yet.” She shrugged off the backpack and sat it on a nearby chair.

“You didn’t lie. That’s something. Most people feel the need to tell me I really don’t look so bad.”

Claire propped her hands on her hips. “Girl, we’ve got some serious work to do, but you’re not a lost crusade.”

“You mean a lost cause?”

“Whatever.” She flipped her hand, shooing away the mistake. “You’re not either one.”

Mel’s gaze turned serious. “I don’t want my little boy to see me like this. Can you work a miracle so he’s not scared?” She swallowed audibly, her eyes filling. “These IV’s and machines are bad enough. I don’t want him to remember being scared of me.”

Claire nodded, unsure she could speak without her voice cracking. She cleared her throat while withdrawing her makeup kit and facial products. From her bag of tricks, she also pulled out a small compact disc player and pushed play. The soft sounds of ocean surf and a muted piano melody sprang into the room.

“Hey, that’s nice.”

“I’m glad you like it.” This was the point where she usually tried to get the patient’s mind off the present and suggested some faraway tropical locale to think about—Waikiki, Montego Bay, or maybe Cancun. This time it didn’t feel right, and she went with her instincts.

“How old is he?” With a few pumps from a small spray bottle, she filled the room with a clean, refreshing scent.

“Cody’s three and a handful.” Mel’s smile was sad. She touched a small picture on her portable tray. “He’s pretty confused right now. I’ve never been away from him, and he doesn’t understand why I don’t go home with him.”

Claire studied the snapshot of a young boy on a beach. He was grinning, obviously very proud of the seashell he proffered for inspection. With his hair wet and his eyes squinting in the bright light, it was hard to tell if he resembled his mother or not. “Cute kid.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do about him.”

“What do you mean?” Claire perched carefully on the bed’s edge, sensing the woman needed to talk.

“My mother had me late in life. She’s arthritic and can’t chase after an energetic little boy, let alone corral a teenager later on.” Mel’s eyes took on a haunted look. “I’m afraid he’ll end up in the state welfare system if this last round of chemo doesn’t kick in.”

Oh, wow. What a dilemma.
Claire didn’t know what to say. She hated platitudes, and her patients didn’t usually share such personal information. Her normal techniques wouldn’t work here. The only hope of relaxing this patient was to try and make her feel she’d made some progress toward solving the problem. Maybe then she’d get some much needed rest.

“Sensitive skin? Any allergies I need to know about?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Then let’s begin your transformation.”

“That sounds like a line from an old Boris Karloff movie. You do know I’d rather not enhance this Frankenstein look, right?” Mel quipped.

“
Now
you tell me. And here I am with a ghoulish palette of grays and beiges.” Claire huffed in mock disappointment. “If you’re not adventurous, we’ll shoot for a boring, healthy glow.”

Her antics were met with a slight chuckle.

“Now close your eyes and relax.” She dipped her fingertips into a jar. “This will feel cool at first,” she warned before applying the soothing gel to Mel’s face with easy, sure strokes. “But it’s great for the skin and will warm on its own.”

The teasing banter surprised Claire. She didn’t usually allow herself this level of familiarity with a patient. Mel and her straightforward ways were so akin to Claire’s own, in another time and place they might have been friends. She needed to rein in the camaraderie before this patient got too friendly.

“Do you have kids, Claire?”

“No.” She hesitated, glad for the perfect segue back to Mel’s problem. “Isn’t there anyone else who could raise your little boy? What about his dad?”

“He’s my only hope, if we can find him in time.”

Claire didn’t ask for an explanation of the “in time” factor. They both knew what it meant. “You should try to remain optimistic. It’s tough, almost impossible at times, but some studies have shown—”

Mel stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I know. The power of positive thinking theory. I believe. I do. And most of the time I’m an upbeat person, but I have to be prepared for the alternative for my son’s sake. If only I could find Cody’s dad.”

Had the guy bolted after hearing Mel was pregnant? It wouldn’t surprise Claire. Hadn’t her own father done the same? “We’ll let this cleanse and exfoliate while I work on other areas.”

Mel remained silent.

Had she been too impersonal? Hurt Mel’s feelings?

“Do you know how to contact him or have his last known address?” Claire kept her voice low and soft.

“I tried a couple years ago. His phone number and address had changed. Before I took off for California, Tee was talking about buying a house out west of town. He’d already made an offer, I think.”

“Your mom could locate him, couldn’t she? Maybe he’s listed in a current phone book, or check property tax records.”

Mel remained quiet for a few minutes, her eyes closed while Claire massaged, moisturized and pampered hands, arms and feet. Coaxing ravaged and neglected skin to look healthy while avoiding IV lines required concentration. She’d almost forgotten posing a question when Mel’s eyelids snapped open.

“You may be right, about the phone book, I mean. Mom said she couldn’t find him listed, but I wonder if she tried. She’s probably figuring Cody’s dad was like my boyfriends prior to him. I wouldn’t turn a child over to them, either.”

Claire frowned at the implication, but Mel’s relationship with her mother was her own business.

Mel’s gaze fastened on Claire’s expression. “I’m sure Mom thought she was doing what was best for Cody, protecting him from some unknown fate by ensuring he had a chance at adoption. But Tee is a kind and decent, hard-working man. If he knew about Cody—”

“He doesn’t know?” Claire reassessed the man, beginning to feel a little sorry for him. The news would come as a shock.

With soft swipes of tissue, she removed the goop on Mel’s face, then cleaned with a moistened cloth and applied a toner. What if this Tee person didn’t want the boy?

None of your business. Keep working and don’t get involved
.

“I told him I couldn’t be pregnant, just before I broke it off with him. He begged me to stay until I was sure. Even offered his place as shelter after I fought with my mom—no strings attached. But I was young and convinced I was invincible.” Mel paused and shrugged. “I was wrong. But by the time I knew differently, I’d reached California and had a job. I should have called him then.”

Claire remained silent, busying herself with the task of applying camouflaging makeup and filling in Mel’s eyebrows. Hair was next on the agenda and was always a source of sorrow and embarrassment for the female patients. Claire dreaded it and the awkwardness it invoked.

“Got something pretty in there to cover my Q-ball?” Mel’s brave smile trembled. “Cody loves blue.”

“Sure. I’ll hook you up with something stunning.” Pink. Plum. Green. At least Claire had hair to color these days.

“You think I’m terrible don’t you? Not telling Tee he had a son.” Mel lowered her lashes.

“Your decisions are none of my business. I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“I’m not sure they were good ones anymore. He and I were just . . . having fun. We weren’t in love. He would have insisted on getting married, and back then I wasn’t strong enough to stand my ground against him. I didn’t want us to end up hating each other.”

“If he’s as nice as you remember, I’m sure he’ll do the right thing.” Claire couldn’t comment on the wisdom of Mel’s decision, so she stuck with something positive. All this personal talk made her uncomfortable.

After selecting a vibrant headscarf in blues and greens, she wrapped, twisted and tucked. “Is it too tight? I don’t want it to slip off, but I don’t want to give you a headache either.”

“It feels fine. Can I see it?”

“Oh, sure.” She dug in her bag for the mirror she never produced unless asked.

“Not bad. You might get those wings after all.” Mel lowered the hand mirror with a thump, as if it was too heavy.

Recognizing the sign of fatigue, Claire turned off the music and began repacking her things. “I’ll leave so you have time to rest before Cody comes to visit.”

“I’m having a hard time with that. Sleeping, I mean. I worry about Cody’s future. If it weren’t for my stubborn streak . . .” Mel turned a watery gaze to the window, her chin trembling.

Usually ready with a snappy comeback, Claire had nothing but a cowardly urge to flee this room, this situation, this patient. She wrestled her strong inclination to offer help into submission before delivering her standard parting line. “Have one of the nurses get in touch with me when you feel like being pampered again.”

“Thanks, Claire. Could you have someone bring me the white pages for Greater Little Rock?”

“Sure. Good luck finding Tee.” She waved from the doorway, left Mel’s request with Rita and headed to her car, feeling lower than dirt.

In the parking lot, she kicked at a crumpled can before picking it up and tossing it in a nearby trash bin. “Don’t people know they’re not supposed to litter?” she grumbled aloud.

Usually her work on the oncology ward left her with a good feeling overall, but today’s experience had been more frustrating than most. Must be the kid involved and the thoughts of such a young child in the system.

He’d be chewed up and spit out.

Dang it, Mel’s problems were none of her business.

On her next trip in, she’d check with Rita—for the child’s sake—but that’s all. She would
not
get involved. The situation with Mel, her son and Tee, who had no clue how badly his life was about to derail, all added up to a great big emotional train wreck.

Her Unexpected
Family coming late February, 2014

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Carol Burnside is an award-winning author traditionally published in books and magazines. Five of her novel length manuscripts have placed in numerous RWA chapter contests and won five, including the prestigious Maggie Award for Excellence.

Writing as Annie Rayburn, Carol produces speculative fiction, erotic romances.

While Carol/Annie enjoys the adoration she receives from her furbabies, what she really loves is hearing from her readers. Browse around her
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