Luke (6 page)

By Saturday, their schedule was busting at the seams, with a shocking number of people asking to be put with Dr. Walker.

Seemed he really was a savior—theirs.

Suddenly Faith could see the light at the end of the tunnel, the day when they'd be fully operating in the black. When it got there, she'd take her first big sigh of relief since using her retirement funds to open the place. But for now, she had a lot of holding her breath left to do, and a lot of writing with red pencil on the books.

Still, the hope that had begun like a small seed in her chest earlier in the week blossomed, and she couldn't contain her smile as she came downstairs from her little apartment into the staff room.

Shelby, Guy and Catherine—their herbalist—were sitting at a table sharing wheat muffins and arguing over which one of the wildflowers in the vase in the center of the table provided the most calming effect. The muffins were clearly from Shelby—their resident health nut—and the coffee was from Guy, who needed caffeine by the bucketful.

Faith joined them, her stomach going happy, but before she stuffed in her first bite of muffin, Luke opened the back door.

Immediately the dynamics in the room changed from light and easygoing to speculative. Shelby, Guy and Cat all looked at Faith, clearly waiting for her reaction in order to decide upon theirs. So she did what she had to do even though she had no idea how she felt at the sight of him. She smiled brightly. "Well, good morning, Dr. Walker."

Looking at least far more rested than he had last Saturday, he nodded curtly. "Schedule?"

Okay, so he wasn't an easygoing, exchange-banalities kind of guy.

And he probably would rather be doing anything else today.

"Here." Shelby handed him a copy of the day's schedule, then checked her watch. "Oops, gotta run." She nudged Cat and Guy, both of whom made a big spectacle out of leaving Faith alone with Luke.

"Subtle," he said when the door shut behind them.

"Don't tell them, they think they pulled it off." Leaning back against the counter, casually crossing one long leg over the other, looking unreasonably gorgeous and edgy in his dark trousers, and dark shirt sleeves shoved up to the elbows revealing forearms corded with strength, and big, clean hands, he studied her with an inscrutable expression. "So what's up? You going to fire me?"

Startled, she laughed. "Why would I do that?"

He lifted a broad shoulder. "Because last week we clashed over just about everything except breathing."

She looked into his light, light eyes and was startled by the vulnerability there. "We didn't clash on our passion over healing people."

"Imagine that … common ground." His gaze held hers for an immeasurable beat, during which time she couldn't have looked away to save her life. In her quest to resent him last week—resent him and need him at the same time—how had she missed the fire, the passion burning in his eyes?

"Actually," she said, "I didn't expect you to show."

"I promised three months."

"Your hospital promised."

"Same thing. I don't go back on my word."

"Even when it goes against the grain?"

"You're healing here. I'm a healer. It's what I do, it's my life." He shrugged, and with a few words, spoke volumes. "I'm here for the duration."

She'd always,
always,
been a sucker for a man in love with what he was doing with his life. She wouldn't have guessed that about Dr. Universe, and she wished she didn't know now. She didn't have time in her life for this, this … whatever it was that happened to her insides when he so much as looked at her. "We uh, have patients."

"So it begins again."

She caught the slight quirk of his lips and wasn't as successful in hiding her own rueful smile. "It begins again," she agreed.

"Good day to you, then."

"And you." She followed him into the hallway and toward the patient rooms. And yes, maybe she stared at his very fine butt just before he shrugged into a doctor's coat, but she doubted there was a woman alive who wouldn't have done the exact same thing in her position.

"Emma Connelly," he said, studying the first chart.

"Oh, she's mine." Faith reached for the paperwork. "We have you starting with the walk-ins this morning. Room six first, there's a man waiting for you. He's suffering from allergies and—"

"It says here Emma Connelly is terminal. Ovarian cancer."

"Yes." Faith hugged the chart to her chest at the ache his words invoked. She'd known Emma for four years, watched her battle through the vicious cancer with everything she had. There was little left, and Healing Waters was dedicated to making her last days as comfortable as possible. "The aromatherapy is the only thing that eases her headaches these days. She gave up her meds, they made her so ill she couldn't function. Guy gives her therapeutic massages that keeps her muscles relaxed. The pain is so severe that—"

"There are drugs that could help. Fast acting, new drugs that—" He stopped at the look on her face and let out a disparaging breath. "Right. Shut up, Luke."

"She's tried everything. She's at the end," she said softly, her throat tight from hearing it out loud. "All she wants now is comfort. That's what we're giving her, it's all we have to give."

"Fine."

She thought that was the end of it, so when she turned away and entered the patient room, she was shocked to realize he'd followed. She introduced him to Emma, and the two of them started chatting, easily, readily.

Faith watched as Luke charmed Emma into talking about her medical history, giving him all the information he seemed to want to know, all in a genuinely relaxed conversation.

And Emma was smiling … nothing beat the sight of that. Smiling even as she shook her head over the drug methods of pain reduction that Luke tried talking to her about.

She wanted to stick with what worked for her, what soothed her, in what surely were her last days. And Faith had to give Luke credit, he never expressed disappointment or anger or any emotion at all over his advice not being taken, he simply took it in stride, then headed out to see other patients while Faith continued with Emma.

Later, Faith's shoulder brushed his as they passed each other in the hallway. "So why did you do it?" she asked, unable to let it go.

Against the wall was one of the many mini water fountains in the clinic. Luke moved closer to it, watching the water hit the pretty rocks. "Do what?"

"With Emma. Try to bring conventional medicine into this, after I told you she wasn't interested."

He looked at her for a long moment, clearly trying to weigh his words. She wondered if he was struggling to be politically correct, so that his "punishment" wouldn't be increased.

"Knowledge is power," he finally said simply. "And I had to make sure she understood all the possible techniques, scientific or otherwise."

When she opened her mouth to remind him she'd already gone over all possible treatments with Emma, that Emma's choice had been made long before she'd even stepped foot inside the clinic, Luke put a finger over her lips.

Instantly, she went still, bombarded with sensations that had nothing to do with temper.

Heat from the rough pad of his finger.

Tingling from within her belly.

Quivering from between her thighs.

"We're going to have to agree to disagree on this," he said softly. "In fact, we're going to have to agree to disagree on just about everything." He let out a low, rough laugh. "You do know that, don't you, Faith?"

What she knew was that he'd just used her name in a silky voice, and hearing it on his lips gave the moment such a sense of intimacy, it was a drug more potent than his voice, than even his smile.

Then his finger left her mouth and she was blinking at his broad, strong shoulders as he walked away from her, heading toward the wing where he'd do most of his work that day, with her walk-in patients.

She let him go, a little overwhelmed by the odd and unsettling mix of emotions he caused within her. She'd wondered how he was going to handle the time he had left here, but now, watching him go, with her body in an uproar, she wondered … how was
she
going to handle it?

* * *

Several hours later a familiar dizziness reminded Faith she wasn't invincible. That she was still a little run-down, an open invitation for getting sick. But damn it, she couldn't afford to give in to this virus right now. Stopping in the staff room, she grabbed the turkey sandwich she'd made for lunch. And if her stomach quietly suggested she add dessert to the sandwich, she ignored it. She was a health professional, and she'd eat like one. Even if it killed her.

She was on her way back to her next patient when she heard a distinct giggle. A child's giggle, which was an irresistible sound.

It came again, and she followed it to room three. Peeking in the ajar door, she saw a towheaded blond boy of about five, lying on his back on the patient table, playing with an oxygen mask. He was Billy Hemdon, a regular.

Next to him, also on his back, though a good part of his long, hard body hung off the other side, was one Dr. Luke Walker. He held an oxygen mask too, and they both looked at the ceiling together, playing with the equipment.

Now that Faith was closer, she could hear the rattle of Billy's breathing. Another asthma attack, a bad one given the volume of the wheezing.

"So." Luke glanced at Billy. "You think you're ready to sit with Cat now?"

"If you come."

"It's only an herbal treatment," Luke said in a perfectly natural voice, but even so, Faith nearly laughed because it was all in the man's eyes. The idea of a herbal treatment was so foreign as to be alien.

"Hey, how 'bout you go first?" Billy asked. "Then you can do it to me."

"That's Cat's job." Luke blinked innocently. "I don't want to hurt her feelings."

"But I want it to be
your
job," Billy said, adding a thrust of his lower lip. He pulled the oxygen mask away from his mouth and began wheezing again.

Gently Luke put it back in place. "How about I walk you down there, and stay with you? Deal?"

"Will you go first? You just breathe in flowers and junk. And Cat holds your hand and sings songs while you do it, funny ones about cows and bees."

Luke lifted a brow. "So you know it doesn't hurt."

The little boy smiled guiltily. "Sorta."

"Sorta." Luke ruffled his hair. "You trying to trick me, Billy?"

"Sorta."

Luke grinned. "It almost worked."

"But I still want you to do it first. Will you, Dr. Walker?" He batted his dark lashes. "Pretty please?"

"Yes, Dr. Walker," Faith said softly, coming into the room. "Pretty please?"

Lifting his head, Luke leveled his gaze on her. "Well, if it isn't Nurse McDowell. I wonder if she knows all the modern advances we've made on asthma, and how you could benefit from any of the numerous new drugs on the market?"

"Yes, but I'm lurgic to them," the boy announced proudly.

"Yes, you are," Faith said. "Very allergic. Which is why we use these other techniques."

With a sigh, Luke sat up. His hair was tousled, his eyes sleepy from lying down for so long, and right then and there, even braced for their usual disagreement, even bogged down by her annoyance at having to put up with him at all, Faith experienced another little unwanted flutter inside.

How was it possible she wanted this man?

And yet … stubborn, egotistical and single-minded as he was, he truly was amazing with her patients. As she thought it, he reached out for Billy's hand, which the boy happily gave him. "I guess," Dr. Walker said with a gusty sigh, "I could go first."

"Yippee!" Billy cried. Together they walked past Faith—both giving her a little wave, Luke adding a little brow raise to that wave, one that told her they weren't finished, not by a long shot—and out the door they went, with Billy, for the first time in recent memory, grinning.

Faith took a moment and sat, not sure if her weak knees could be attributed to not feeling great, or Luke himself. Today alone he'd brought a smile to a terminal cancer patient, a laugh to a child suffering with life-threatening asthma.

And a hitch to her own heart.

Not bad for his second week in the place.

* * *

When all the patients had gone for the day, Faith sat cross-legged in the center of her bed with some herbal tea and a stack of bills. Being alone was the usual state for her at night, and while occasionally she felt a little lonely, a little unsure if maybe she'd let too much of life pass her by, for the most part she was fine with her own company. After all, she was very used to it.

Her missionary parents, wonderful and loving and warm as they were, gave most of their energy away to the people they helped. Her sister, Michelle, had chosen a similar path, working as a traveling midwife in Europe.

Faith used to resent how much they gave to everyone but their own family, and yet here she sat, not doing things so very differently.

Yeah, well … if once in a while she let loneliness for family, or even a close, personal relationship encroach, she could deal with that. She'd chosen this life, and chosen it readily. Willingly. It was what she wanted.

Though what she wanted right now was to be horizontal. All she had to do was prioritize the bills for tonight and she could hit the sack. It'd been a good, solid day, and she felt happy and content with all they'd accomplished, but she could admit she was looking forward to stripping down and crawling between her fuzzy sheets. Oblivion, that's what she needed. Just six hours would do it, would beat back the viral infection she could feel at the far edges of her mind, trying as always to creep in and take hold.

She wouldn't let it. Not this time.

She had too much to do.

It was quiet downstairs. Her staff had all gone long ago. She hadn't seen Luke go, but assumed he hadn't been able to get out of there fast enough.

She'd just separated all the invoices when she heard a noise from below, a soft thud. Though she wasn't a fearful sort, she wasn't stupid. They did have supplies here, and despite Luke's mocking, they had some drugs as well. Grabbing the portable phone—with her finger on the 9-1-1 autodial—and her handy dandy baseball bat over her shoulder, she went down the stairs.