Love Comes Silently(Senses 1) (9 page)

“Yes,” Ken answered, doing a quick mental check.

“Give her one and see if it brings down the fever, and I’ll see you this afternoon.” The doctor’s confidence calmed his nerves, and Ken thanked the doctor before hanging up. Ken made a light breakfast with cinnamon toast for Hanna and got the Tylenol before carrying in a small tray. Hanna looked tired, but alert, as he set down the tray.

“Dr. Pierson thinks you have a slight cold,” he told Hanna as he touched her forehead. She seemed cooler already, and Ken thought he might have turned the heat up a little high and she overheated with all the covers on her bed. “We’re going to see her this afternoon.”

“Are they going to poke me?” Hanna asked, drawing her arms under the covers.

“They might,” Ken answered as he sat on the edge of the sofa. “But you’ve always been such a big girl.” Ken handed her the plate of toast after he got her comfortably sitting up. “I’ve always been so proud of you.” Ken felt his emotions coming to the surface. “In the hospital, you never complained.” Ken took the plate from Hanna and set it on the coffee table before pulling her into a gentle hug. “I love you more than anything in the world.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” Hanna said. “Can I eat now?”

Ken chuckled and released Hanna, giving her back the plate before standing up and pushing the table closer so she could reach her cup of juice. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, Daddy,” Hanna answered, already engrossed in whatever show she was watching. Ken glanced around the house as his worry lessened and the need to work through what he was feeling came to the front.

“I’ll be in my studio if you need me,” Ken said, and Hanna nodded as she picked up a piece of toast and took a bite.

Ken didn’t work the way he usually did, because he would not allow his mind to sink into the painting as he worked. He had Hanna to worry about, and every half hour or so, he’d go in to check on her. About lunchtime, she said she was hungry, and when Ken touched her forehead, her fever seemed to be gone. He verified it with the thermometer and breathed a sigh of relief. He made her some chicken nuggets and then went back to work for a few hours before cleaning up and getting Hanna ready to visit the doctor.
H
ANNAhugged Dr. Pierson when she opened the examination room door. “You seem to be doing much better,” Dr. Pierson said as she lifted Hanna onto the table. “Let’s take a look and make sure it’s just a touch of a cold.” Ken fidgeted nervously as Dr. Pierson looked in Hanna’s throat and ears, then listened to her heart and lungs. “Your throat is a bit red. Does it hurt?” Hanna nodded, and Dr. Pierson threw the wooden stick away before taking off her gloves. “As we thought, it’s just a cold. I’m going to give you some medication to help with the symptoms,” the doctor told Ken. “Her immune system is still a bit weak, so make sure Hanna gets lots of fluids and keep an eye on her breathing and temperature the way you have been.”

Ken nodded. “Thank you,” he said with a small sigh of relief.

“I’m going to ask the nurse to take some blood, and we’ll run some tests while you’re here so you won’t have to come in next week,” Dr. Pierson told Hanna, and she nodded, biting her lower lip. “You can ask the nurse for a lollipop on your way out if you’re good.” Ken rolled his eyes, and Hanna nodded with a slight smile. “I need to talk to your daddy for a few minutes.”

Ken followed the doctor outside and they closed the door. “She’s doing very well, and you did the right thing. A full-on cold or the flu could really knock her down at this stage.”

“I thought I was overreacting,” Ken admitted, but the doctor shook her head.

“You did just fine. I want to keep a close eye on her.” The doctor patted Ken’s shoulder reassuringly. “Take good care of her and she’ll be fine.” The doctor smiled warmly before heading down the hall. Ken went back inside and sat with Hanna until the nurse came to draw blood. Hanna gasped a little when the nurse poked her, but otherwise she sat still until it was over, and the nurse gave her a sucker.

“Am I done?” Hanna asked.

“All done,” the nurse told her, and Ken took her down off the table. After gathering their things, they walked toward the front desk. Ken took care of the prescription and instructions for Hanna, and soon they were on their way.

Ken stopped at McDonald’s to get Hanna a treat, and they sat in a corner booth away from the other patrons while she ate her chicken nuggets. Ken’s phone rang, and he noticed it was Mark.

“Kenny, I stopped by the house and no one was home.” He always seemed to get right down to business now. It still hurt some that the calls that once made his heart race simply from hearing Mark’s voice had now become clinical and almost businesslike.

“I had to take Hanna to the doctor. She has a cold, but they wanted to check her out,” Ken explained, and Hanna grinned from across the table. “What did you need?”

“Nothing in particular,” Mark said rather softly. “I was missing you and I thought maybe we could talk. There’s no reason we shouldn’t be friends, and I was curious how Hanna was doing.”

“We’re both fine, and we should be friends. We were together for two years,” Ken said as he shuffled the phone so he could help Hanna squirt the ketchup out of the little packets. “I guess I’m a bit surprised, that’s all. If you’d like to come by some day next week, we could have lunch and talk.” Ken didn’t know why he was offering, but it seemed like the nice thing to do. “Hanna would like to see you too.”

Mark hesitated before agreeing. “Should I bring anything?” Mark asked, and Ken chuckled. “Okay, I’ll bring the lunch when I come,” Mark said, adding his own laughter. “I sometimes wonder how you two keep from starving on your own.”

Hanna stood up and leaned over the table. “Daddy takes me to McDonalds,” she said into the phone, and Ken heard Mark laugh once again.

“I thought it was something like that. Okay, I’ll call you next week and we can set something up.” Mark disconnected, and Ken shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket.

“Mark is going to come visit next week for lunch,” Ken told Hanna, and she shrugged before taking a bite of one of her nuggets.

“Can Mr. Patrick come too?” Hanna asked with her mouth full, and Ken glared at her for a few seconds. Hanna placed her hand over her mouth and then took a drink of her juice as she swallowed. “Please, Daddy.” It was plainly obvious who Hanna’s favorite person was at the moment.

“I don’t think Patrick and Mark would get along,” Ken explained, and Hanna accepted the answer, or at least seemed to asshe began eating again. Ken highly doubted Patrick would be willing to come to lunch with Mark there. “Finish your food so we can get you home. You need to rest.” Hanna began eating more slowly, and Ken started clearing away the trash. “You can sit in my studio with me and draw if you want.”

Hanna shook her head. “It’s stinky in there now,” she told him before grabbing her nose.

“Okay. You can watch television and draw if you want,” Ken placated, and she finished eating. After Ken cleaned up, he helped Hanna into her coat and carried her through the slushy parking lot. Once he got Hanna settled in her seat, Ken started the car and turned the heat on high as he maneuvered through the already darkening afternoon along the now very familiar road between Marquette and Pleasanton.

After pulling up to the house, Ken stopped the car and unlocked the doors. Hanna got out of her seat and then out her door, rushing quickly up the walk. “Hanna, wait,” Ken called, but she didn’t stop until she reached what looked like a large shoebox next to the door.

“Daddy!” She practically screamed as she tore open the top of the box. Ken followed up the walk in time to see Hanna pull out what looked like a Barbie doll. “Look at these,” she cried happily.

“Let’s take it inside,” Ken said, looking around. Just like the other boxes, there was no note or card, but Ken knew Mark had been by the house, so he was convinced that he’d left the box for Hanna, and reminded himself that when Mark came to lunch the next week, he’d thank him. He would have to stop at a bakery to get the cheesecake that Mark loved. It was the least he could do. Ken picked up the box and unlocked the house before ushering Hanna in out of the cold. He set the box aside and got Hanna’s coat and mittens off before settling her on the sofa under a blanket with her bounty next to her. Hanna asked him to put in the Barbie
Nutcracker
video.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

“Yes, Daddy,” Hanna said without looking away from the television. When Ken left the living room a few minutes later, Hanna was watching the television, holding one of her new Barbie dolls.

Ken walked into his studio and turned on the lights. He wished he had natural light, but in late winter, that was scarce, so he made do. After moving the paintings around, he put the original portrait of Patrick on the easel and stared into the eyes as he tried to imagine what Patrick would have looked like when he was on stage. The image that had been so vibrant the day before had dulled somewhat, but he closed his eyes and concentrated, imagining Patrick on stage. When he hit play on the CD player without opening his eyes and heard Patrick’s rich voice fill the room, the image in his mind began to sing. Then he opened his eyes, transferred that image to the canvas, and began to paint.

He worked for hours, only stopping from time to time to check on Hanna, make dinner, and to put Hanna to bed. As soon as she was asleep, he returned to the canvas, working late into the night without thinking of anything other than his work and Hanna. He was so engrossed in what he was doing he didn’t realize he had an audience.

P
ATRICK stepped away from the window at the side of his house. For some reason, he’d only just discovered that if he looked out this particular window, he could see into Ken’s studio. He’d been standing at the window for a while, watching as Ken worked. He couldn’t see what he was painting and he wondered what had Ken so enthralled this late at night. Patrick had watched as Ken and Hanna hurried out of the house earlier. He’d gotten the box of dolls he’d found at small thrift stores around town and had been leaving the house to take them over when he’d seen Ken’s exboyfriend pull up, so he’d waited until he left before setting the box down by their door. He’d waited for them to come home, and he’d heard Hanna’s squeals of delight when she’d found the box. He had also heard her cough, and figured they must have been visiting the doctor. That had worried him, but Ken’s relaxed stride had soothed his anxiety about Hanna. Over the past few months of watching Ken, he’d gotten pretty good at determining how he was feeling.

Like tonight— Patrick had watched Ken work in his studio, his body upright, arms flowing. Whatever Ken had been painting, he could see it was making him very happy. He’d thought about going outside to get a closer look, but he didn’t want to stalk Ken. He liked him, and everything about his neighbor, and his daughter, fascinated him. There were times, like this evening, where the way he simply couldn’t seem to move away from the window frightened him a little. He knew he was beginning to obsess over Ken, but the man was so nice, and he treated Patrick like a human being. Not many people had done that since the accident. Most people in town looked the other way when he came by. Patrick walked through his house, turning off the lights as he went, and then headed to his bedroom. He undressed and climbed into bed, but not without peering out his window so he could catch a glimpse of the light from Ken’s window as it spilled over the snow in Ken’s backyard.

Patrick closed his eyes, letting his imagination take o ver, and transported himself into Ken’s studio. Ken continued working as Patrick approached him from behind. Ken didn’t turn around and kept working until Patrick slipped his hands along Ken’s side, tugging his shirt up. He felt Ken start for a fraction of a second and then begin to hum softly. In his mind he heard the tink of brushes being set aside, Ken’s palette met the table in a clunk of wood on wood, and then Patrick tugged the paint- spattered shirt off, dropping it onto the drop cloths that covered the floor. Ken said nothing as Patrick stroked his smooth skin with a slowness that made Ken groan and Patrick’s legs shake with anticipation. Ken shifted, leaning into him, and Patrick kissed along Ken’s shoulder and up his neck. Patrick inhaled deeply, Ken’s rich scent mixing with the paint in a way that went right to his head and his groin.

Patrick slid his hand down Ken’s chest, wrapping his fingers around his cock as the Ken in his mind turned around, Patrick’s hands sliding along his skin as he moved. Ken tugged off Patrick’s shirt, then tilted his head slightly, their lips meeting in a kiss that didn’t need the words Patrick couldn’t utter. Patrick felt Ken’s heart just as he knew Ken felt his. Being hugged close felt good and Patrick pressed his chest to Ken’s. As they breathed, their skin rubbed ever so slightly, reminding them just how close they were to each other. In Patrick’s mind, they slowly fell to the floor, the drop cloths becoming their bed. Clothes vanished with a thought, and then Ken’s hands were everywhere, and Ken’s lips were against his. The world shook as Patrick clamped his eyes closed. Then it was over, and Patrick floated for a few seconds before opening his eyes once again. Patrick opened the drawer in his nightstand and pulled out a towel that he used for cleanup before dropping it to the floor.

Chapter Four