Bottom Line: Callaghan Brothers, Book 8 (19 page)

Michael chuckled again.  “You’re almost as bad at lying as my wife.”

“I just want to go home,” she said, her voice softer. 

Michael studied at her for several long moments.  “How about letting me give you a quick once over?  If everything looks okay, I’ll wheel you down myself.”

It was the best offer she’d had all morning.  “I guess that would be alright,” she conceded. 

She allowed him to check her pulse, listen to her heart, take her temperature and blood pressure.  He had a very gentle touch – much nicer than Nurse Nancy’s.  A little too nice, in fact.  Mary felt the color rising in her cheeks when he checked her incisions.  Thankfully, either he didn’t notice or he was too polite to say anything.  She figured it was probably the latter.  Any doc that looked like that had to be used to eliciting all kinds of involuntary responses from his female patients.

“Okay, Mary.  Your incisions look good, but I’m going to give you some antibiotic cream to apply several times a day, alright?  No showers for three days, but it’s okay to sit waist deep in a tub and use a sponge carefully.”

“You’re letting me go?”

“Yep,” he said, reaching into his pocket.  He tossed the small packet of saltines on the bed tray.  Then he reached into the other pocket and pulled out a small container of apple juice.  “As soon as you eat those crackers and drink that juice.”

Mary narrowed her eyes at him.  “If I throw up, I’m aiming right at you.”

“Duly noted.”  He laughed.  Mary found it was a lot harder to cop an attitude with him than with any of the others.

Thankfully, Mary managed to hold down the crackers and the juice.  Michael went to grab the necessary papers while she got dressed.  By the time he returned, she was feeling a little better.

True to his word, Michael did indeed push her wheelchair all the way down to the lobby.  “Vicki tells me you refused chemo.”

“Vicki?”

“Sorry.  Dr. Whitney.”

“Um, yeah.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I watched my husband suffer for five years, Dr. Callaghan,” she said quietly.  “I think it would have been kinder to just let him go.  I don’t want that.”

“What about the people who care about you, Mary?  The ones you’d be leaving behind?  Have you discussed this with them?”

Mary thought about her mother in Florida.  Cat Murphy had been unable to deal with her husband’s illness, there was no way she would be able to handle Mary’s.  There was Andrew, who would probably give her a good talking to, but he’d understand.  And Max.  Max would be crushed if anything happened to her, but he was probably the only one. 

“No,” she whispered.

“Hmmm,” he hummed.  She half expected him to argue with her, but he didn’t.  Even more amazingly, he didn’t seem upset or disappointed by her choice.  “Here we are.  I wish you the best of luck, Mary.”

“Thanks, Dr. Callaghan,” Mary said sincerely.  He was the first person to treat her as if she had the right to make the choices that would affect her own life. 

“You’re welcome.  Is there someone at home who can help you out for the next few days?”

Mary bit her lip, thinking about Max.  “Yeah.”

“Dogs don’t count, Mary.”  Her eyes widened and before she could ask if he was psychic, Michael laughed again, the sound deep and rich.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.  You’ve really got to meet my Maggie sometime.”

“I’ll be okay, Doc.”

“Yeah, I think you will,” Michael said, his eyes intent on something just outside the lobby doors.  The object of his attention became clear a minute later.

Aidan breezed through the lobby as if he owned the place.  “Hey beautiful,” he said easily, leaning down to kiss Mary on the cheek.  “You ready to go?”

Mary looked at Aidan in shock.  “What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t Michael tell you?  I’m your ride, baby.”

Mary looked at Michael, pinning him with as fierce a glare as she could muster.  “No.  He forgot to mention that.”  Unfazed, he grinned unrepentantly. 

“How’s she doing?” Aidan asked Michael over her head.

“She’s as stubborn as Maggie,” Michael said.  “She’ll be just fine.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.  Thanks, Michael.  I owe you one.”

“My pleasure, Aidan.  Nice meeting you, Mary,” he said with a wink. 

Mary was a little unsteady when she got up out of the wheelchair.  Aidan was beside her, keeping her from falling over.  She grabbed on to his arm, wishing she didn’t have to but seeing it as the lesser of two evils.  Feeling the strong, warm strength beneath her hands was preferable to taking a header at the main entrance and being forcibly carried back in.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.  She was too worn out to summon enough pride not to.  Her brief but exhausting battle with Nurse Nancy had sapped the last of her sass.  Humility and gratitude came much easier to her than grudges and sarcasm, anyway. 

Aidan seemed pleasantly surprised, as if he’d expected more of a fight.  “You’re very welcome,” he replied.

Aidan led her to his SUV and helped her in.  She briefly considered protesting, but was sensible enough to know she was not in any shape to drive.  And Aidan’s vehicle was much more comfortable than hers.  That made sense when Mary recognized the classic Mercedes icon; she hadn’t noticed that before.  Then again, when they were coming out of the restaurant that night she’d been preoccupied.

“Nice,” she murmured in appreciation of the dark, silvery SUV.  She might not know a lot about cars, but this one literally screamed ‘expensive’.  It was a far cry from the beat-up POS he’d had when she’d first met him.  “You must make a pretty good living to afford something like this.”

“I do alright,” Aidan replied noncommittally.

Mary was just trying to figure out what she was going to do about the seat belt when Aidan handed her a small, oddly dimensioned pillow.  “Here.” 

“What’s this?”

“Michael said to put this in front of you.  It’ll be more comfortable.” 

“Who is Michael, and how does he know so much about me?” she asked as she held the pillow in front of her while Aidan reached around and secured the safety belt.  It placed him close enough that his hair brushed against her cheek and jaw.  Mary closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled, filling her lungs with his scent.  She hadn’t realized how much she missed it.

“He’s a good friend and a brilliant doctor.  He agreed to see you as a special favor to me.”  The buckle snicked into place and Aidan moved back to his own seat.  “How’s that?”

“It’s good, thanks.” 

There was some pressure, but it was manageable and undoubtedly more comfortable than a belt alone against her swollen and tender breasts.  Mary had too many other things on her mind at that moment to dwell on it. 

Nothing about the situation made sense to her.  When she’d arrived at the hospital yesterday, she had done so alone and without anyone else’s knowledge.  Today she’d been released by a doctor she’d never met and was being driven home in a Mercedes by the man who’d walked out on her weeks ago without a backward glance. 

Aidan pulled slowly out of the lot, being extra careful to avoid anything that might jar her or cause her discomfort.  Of course, riding in the Benz was already like riding in a cloud.  Mary loved her Jeep, but she could see the appeal.

They were halfway to Birch Falls when Mary finally spoke.  She had lots of questions, but started with the most important one first.  “Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but why are you doing this?”

Aidan gave her a quick glance, his eyes intense but unreadable.  “Because I want to.”

As answers went, it was far from sufficient, at least in her mind. 
Why
did he want to?  Was he still trying to “repay the kindness” as he’d once put it?  Or maybe he harbored some angst over the way he’d left so abruptly weeks earlier, and saw this as an opportunity to make amends. 

She wasn’t even sure it mattered.  Most likely he would take her home, see her safely inside, then be off again, his conscience adequately appeased. 

No matter what the reasoning was, she was glad to see him.  For the first time in weeks, the persistent ache plaguing her had lifted.  Then again, perhaps some of that was due to all the things they’d injected her with over the last twenty-four hours.  She felt a lot like a pin cushion that had been ripped open and re-stitched a couple of times. 

Figuring that replying “why” to “because I want to” seemed childish, she shelved that for when she had a clearer head and moved on to a different question.  “How did you know?”

* * *

S
everal minutes passed.  Aidan eased the car to a stop at a red light.  “I called your house last night.  Andrew answered.”

She didn’t say anything immediately, but Aidan felt her watching him expectantly.  “What?” he asked, glancing sideways to confirm that she was, in fact staring at him while her hands gripped the pillow and hugged it close.

“I’m just waiting for you to ask me how often I let men stay overnight in my house.”

He winced.  Of course she would expect him to ask that.  It was the next step in a logical progression of such questions, following
So, Mary, do you make a habit of picking up strange men in bars and bringing them back to your house?
and the stunningly brilliant
Get a lot of male visitors, do you?
But at least he had learned from his mistakes. 

“I don’t need to ask.  I already know the answer.”

“Do you?” she mused, so softly he barely heard her.

They were quiet for the remainder of the ride.  Mary already had the seat belt undone and was opening the door by the time Aidan got around to her side of the car.  “Let me help you, Mary.”

She took his hand only until she was out of the car, then released it quickly.  “I’m good, thanks.” 

Aidan found that disappointing, but was somewhat encouraged when she didn’t protest his hand pressing supportively against her lower back. 

Andrew was waiting inside with Max, who was beyond happy to see Mary.  His tail wagged so hard he stumbled several times in his attempts to get to her.  She petted him and kissed him as if they had been separated for much longer than one night.

“Hey, Mare.  Got any for me?” Andrew asked teasingly.

“Always,” she said.  A hug was out of the question, so Andrew settled for a gentle squeeze on her shoulder and a kiss to her cheek.  “You look like hell.  Bet that’s better than you’re feeling right now though, huh?”

* * *

“I
’m okay,” she said with a small smile.  If she confirmed the truth he would feel the need to hang around and help her out.  While the thought behind it would have been appreciated, all she wanted to do was crawl into her own bed, pull the covers up over her head, and sleep the day away.  Maybe she’d even take one or two of the pain pills they’d given her.

“Yeah, guess you are pretty tough at that.”  Andrew shifted his weight, as if he wanted to leave, but wasn’t quite comfortable about it.  His eyes moved to the doorway where Aidan had disappeared with Mary’s overnight bag.  Several minutes passed in slightly awkward silence while Mary continued to reassure Max that she hadn’t abandoned him. 

“Well...,” Andrew said finally, “unless you have something you need me to do, I’m heading back to the shop.  We have some new stuff coming in this afternoon and I’m not sure I trust Becky enough to handle that on her own yet.  I’ll check in on you later, okay?”

“No, I think I’ll be fine.  All I’m going to do is crash.  Thanks, Andrew.  For everything.”

“You’re not mad, then?” he asked, his eyes flicking back toward the direction Aidan had headed.

“No,” she said on an exhale.

He smiled affectionately.  “It’s nice to be able to do something for you for a change.”  With another peck on her cheek and a quick scratch behind Max’s ears, Andrew gathered his keys and coat and took his leave.

“O
kay,” Aidan said cheerfully, reappearing in the kitchen.  “Enough of this.  Let’s get you in bed so you can get some rest.”  He turned the prescription bottle around in his hand and read the label.  “These say you’re supposed to take them with food, so -”

“What are you doing?” she asked suddenly. 

He blinked.  “Taking care of you.”

A month ago, those words would have thrilled her.  Now, she didn’t know what to make of them.  He was acting as if the past few weeks hadn’t happened, but seeing him again was dredging all of the hurt and confusion back to the surface for her.

She exhaled heavily.  “Aidan, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I do know that I’m just not capable of working through it right now.  Maybe we can talk in a few days or something, but right now I just want to go to bed for a couple of hours, okay?”

“Yes to bed.  No to the rest of it.”

“I appreciate your help, Aidan, but - ”

“Save your breath, Mary.  You’re in no shape to argue with me.  And I’m
not
leaving.”

Mary opened her mouth, then closed it again.  He was right.  She
was
too tired and too sore to argue with him.  If he wanted to waste his morning while she slept, fine.

With a sigh of resignation, she went to her bedroom, Max following closely at her heels.  Now that he had his mistress back, he had no intention of letting her out of his sight.

“You’re going to pull the stitches,” Aidan chastised gently when he entered the room several minutes later and saw Mary struggling to get into her pajamas.  “Let me help you.”

Mary let her arms hang loosely at her side while Aidan worked the sleeves of her favorite oversized flannel nightshirt on with a minimum of movement.  She watched his fingers, long and graceful, as he did up the buttons.  Perhaps she should have felt some twinge of modesty, but given what he had already seen – what he had already
done
– it seemed rather pointless.  The bandages covered everything anyway.

She didn’t bother with pajama bottoms, electing to just sit down on the bed with her top and panties.  Aidan fluffed the pillows behind her, then steadied her with one arm while the other swept her legs up onto the bed in one smooth movement.