Out of the Shadows (11 page)

Nothing could be further from the truth, but Wade held his tongue. He’d spent those hours with her because he enjoyed her company, because he respected her, because—

Because you’re falling in love with her.

“Uncle,” Wade said, both hands in the air. “I give up.”

Gus wiggled his forefinger, and when Wade leaned closer, he whispered, “She’s got a generous heart, that girl of mine, and it’s put her in the corner more times than I care to count.”

Wade sat back to ask “In the corner?”

“You run in the fast lane. Surely you’ve met girls like Patrice before, who fall head over heels almost from the first eye blink.” Gus gave him a long, hard stare. “She’s over twenty-one and all that—so she has no one to blame but herself for all the heartaches….” He narrowed his eyes and stared harder still. “But I’m her father, and wheelchair or not, I’ll do what I can to protect her.”

The image flashed in Wade’s head of him, holding a dimple-kneed, rosy-cheeked baby girl who said around a toothless smile, “Da-da!” Unlikely as that prospect seemed, if Wade ever had a daughter, he’d likely feel
exactly as Gus felt. “I haven’t known your daughter long,” he said, “but I can promise you this—I’ll do what I can to protect her.”

Gus studied his face for what seemed a long time before his stern expression softened slightly. “From herself? Or from you?”

It was a fair question, one that deserved an honest answer. “Both.”

Nodding, Gus took another drink of water. “You seem like a good egg, Doc,” he said, putting the glass back on the nightstand. “So okay, I’ll come to your office tomorrow, let you run some tests…if it’ll calm Patrice’s fears.” His hand formed a flesh-and-bone pistol. Aiming it at Wade, he said, “But you have to promise me something first.”

“What?”

Gus was dead serious when he said, “If you find anything, you keep it to yourself, you hear?
I’ll
be the one to decide what to tell Patrice about my health. Got it?”

He didn’t bother to repeat the doctor–patient confidentiality part of his oath; he had a feeling Gus already knew, anyway. “Got it.”

“So what time should I be there?”

“The afternoon is wide open. How’s two o’clock?”

“I’ll have Molly call your office first thing in the morning, get directions. She’ll drop me off.”

“Sounds good.” Wade got to his feet. “Now tell me, where will I find a thermometer?”

“In the nightstand drawer over there. Why?”

Shaking the instrument down, Wade shrugged. “Told Patrice I’d do it, that’s why.”

Gus rolled his eyes. “I might’ve known.” Then he added, “Word to the wise, Doc. Watch what you say to
that girl. She has a memory like a steel trap, and she’ll hold you to every word that comes out of your mouth.”

Sliding the thermometer between Gus’s lips, Wade said, “Thanks for the tip.” He could hardly believe his own ears when he added, “So does that mean you approve? You don’t mind if I keep seeing your daughter?”

With a wink and a sly grin, Gus answered his question.

Wade stared at his watch’s face, pretending to follow the second hand as it counted the minutes.
So this is how it feels,
he thought,
to make a commitment.

He held his breath, half expecting that, at any second, a bolt of lightning and a crash of thunder would sound to let him know he’d made a dreadful, life-altering mistake.

But all he heard were Gus’s soft breaths and the soft
chik-chik-chik
of the wristwatch.

And the rib-racking throbbing of his heart.

Patrice couldn’t help noticing that Wade looked tired and drawn when he came into the kitchen. She could only hope it didn’t mean something awful was wrong with Gus. “I just poured myself some tea. Want me to fix you a cup?”

He slumped into a ladder-back chair. “That’s be great.”

“And how about some dessert?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Cherry pie or chocolate cake?”

“Surprise me.”

He sounded even more exhausted than he looked. Which worried her, because he’d seemed fine when he went into Gus’s room….

Patrice slid a knife from the countertop block. “So,”
she said, cutting a wedge from the chocolate cake, “you going to tell me what’s on your mind, or do I have to ‘feed’ it out of you?”

He looked at the huge wedge and grinned. “You don’t really expect me to eat the whole thing, do you?”

At least smiling, he looked a little less weary. She grabbed a fork from the silverware drawer. “Waste not, want not,” she said, handing it to him.

“He’s got a low-grade fever.”

“How low?”

“Almost one hundred,” he said. “Not too bad, considering temperatures naturally rise at night.”

“I thought that was an old wives’ tale.”

“Maybe,” he said around a bite of cake, “but nobody has been able to explain why so many old wives were right about so many things.”

The slight twinkle in his hazel eyes made him look more handsome, if that was possible. “You think he picked up a bug somewhere? Or is the fever caused by something else?”

He met her eyes, and for a moment only stared at her. Without thinking, she finger-combed her hair over the scar.

“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice gravelly and quiet.

“Don’t do what?”

“Hide behind your hair that way. No need to hide that gorgeous face. Especially not from me.”

She felt the heat of a blush color her cheeks.

“This is terrific, by the way.” He used his fork as a pointer.

No one had ever looked at her quite that way—with such admiration, such caring. Not even Gus.
Lord,
she prayed,
show me a sign of some sort…if this is the man
You’ve chosen for me, tell me now, before I get in any deeper.

But who was she kidding? The only way she’d get in any deeper was if Wade said he loved her, too.

Too?

So there it was, out in the open. Knowing how stupid it would be to dive feetfirst into another relationship, she’d been trying to deny it for days, now, pretending the pleasant conversations were part of every budding friendship and nothing more.

He poked out his tongue just then, to catch a crumb of cake that had stuck to his upper lip…and reminding her of the sweet kisses they’d shared. Kisses that had warmed her heart and soul, making her wonder if they’d inspired “forever” thoughts in Wade’s mind, too.

“Gus agreed to come to my office tomorrow.”

Blinking, she looked up. “He did?”

Wade grinned. “You sound surprised.” Chopping off another forkful of cake, he said, “I can be mighty persuasive when I put my mind to it.”

“Really.”
Then, persuade me to be your one and only
was the silent message she sent him.

She swallowed, feeling silly and irrational and a whole lot foolish.

Wade met her eyes, and for an instant, as she probed the glittering, golden eyes and gentle smile, she wondered if maybe he’d read her mind.

Would he start trying to persuade her?

She sipped her tea. “So what time is his appointment?”

“Two o’clock. Gus said Molly would drop him off. Then you can pick him up after he’s finished.”

“Sounds good. What tests will you run?” she asked.

He took a drink of his own tea. “I want to do the
whole nine yards—EKG, EEG, CAT scan, MRI, blood work….”

She bit her lower lip. “What will you be looking for?”

“Nothing, everything,” he said, shrugging. “This is routine, to rule out anything serious that might be causing the fevers and—”

She wrapped her hands around her mug and squeezed it tight. “But, you must suspect something. Why else would you run a battery of tests?”

He pressed his hands atop hers. “You’ve been around doctors and hospitals enough to know that most of the time, our so-called detective work doesn’t turn up a thing.”

“And sometimes, it turns up something horrible.”

“Then, it’s good to catch it early, isn’t it?”

Pulse racing, she stared at their hands. “I suppose.”

“Except for his occasional bouts with bronchitis and pneumonia, he tells me he’s been healthy as a horse.”

That much was true, but still…

“Then, you have nothing to worry about.” He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “Where’s your faith? I thought all you Christians believe it’s a sin to worry.”

The way he’d said “all you Christians” told her he wasn’t a believer. On the other hand, he’d known the Christian attitude toward worry. Could it mean that maybe, once upon a time, he had been a follower? Because if he had, it wouldn’t be such a long walk back…with a little help from his friends….

Show me the way, Lord,
she prayed,
show me the way.

Still holding her hands, he added, “And if I haven’t worn Gus out too badly, maybe the three of us can go to Little Italy for dinner.”

“Be careful what you ask for,” she warned, smiling.
“Gus
loves
Italian food. He’ll say yes even if he’s down to one ounce of energy left.”

“Good, because I’m looking forward to getting to know him better.”

He was looking forward to getting to know her father better? What could that mean, except—

“Well, guess I’d better be makin’ tracks,” Wade said, getting to his feet. “My first surgery starts at eight.”

“Let me pack up some dessert for you first.” She rummaged in a cabinet for a plastic container. Not the throw-away kind, but one that would have to be returned.

“But it’s just me at home—”

“It’ll keep a week in the fridge.” And as she slid a thick slab of each dessert into the bowl, Patrice added, “Just microwave a slice at a time when you’re in the mood…unless you like cold cake or pie.”

“Guess I’ve learned to live with ‘cold.”’

She heard more in his grating tone than a simple response to her question; there was a certain sadness, and loneliness, too. Patrice snapped the lid in place. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t have a microwave.”

He’d recovered nicely…or so he thought. Patrice wondered who he thought he was fooling with that stand-up-tall demeanor and practiced smile.

Patrice flashed her best imitation of a smile. “No microwave? You’re kidding, right?”

“Even if I had one, I doubt my landlady’s electrical system could power it. Besides, there’s barely room in my kitchen for
me.
”

“Must be one small apartment….”

“It’s a studio. Bet the whole thing could fit into your living room.”

“You’re a big-shot doc,” she teased. “Surely you can afford a house.”

His smile vanished more quickly than a candle’s flame can be doused, making her regret her little joke.

“Guess I just never saw the point. I mean, what’s a single guy need with a whole big house?”

“Don’t you ever entertain?”

“Never saw much point in that, either.”

Patrice got a picture of a cramped, dimly lit place, furnished with relatives’ dull castoffs, and had to bite her lower lip to keep the tears at bay. Wade deserved better. He was the kind of man who made women want to do more than send him home with leftover sweets; surely they were lined up for blocks, waiting to cook a meal, do his laundry, make sure he started every day with a healthy breakfast.

Patrice got a picture of the snaking string of females, each looking longingly at handsome, intelligent and thoughtful Dr. Wade Cameron. She quickly blinked the image away, because she wanted to be the only woman in that line!

“See you tomorrow, then.” He picked up the blue-lidded plastic bowl and grinned. “And thanks for breakfast.”

Walking beside him into the foyer, she waved his gratitude away. “I’ll say a prayer for you tonight.”

He chuckled. “Whatever for?”

“So you’ll get a good night’s sleep,” she said, opening the front door. “You’ll need to be well rested. For surgery tomorrow.”

One side of his mouth lifted in a boyish grin. “That’s downright sweet, Patrice. Thanks.”

But she didn’t want his thanks; she wanted his heart.

“You have a good night’s sleep, too.” He put the
bowl on the table beside the door and took a step closer, slid his arms around her.

He didn’t say he’d pray for her, she noted.

His brows furrowed slightly as he inspected her face. “You gonna be okay?”

She nodded.

“’Cause chances are real good that Gus will be fine, y’know.”

Another nod.

“Dinner was great. Did I tell you that already?”

He hadn’t, but she nodded again.

For a moment, he stood there, simply staring at her, wearing a flirty half smile on his face that confused and exhilarated her at the same time.

Patrice had always prided herself at being able to read people’s expressions; it was but one of the reasons she interacted so successfully with hospitalized kids. But if someone asked her to define Wade’s emotions right now, she’d be at a total loss.

Strong and rock-solid, he had all the qualities of the right man…of a
husband.
But he wasn’t interested in her. Not in a permanent kind of way.

Or was he?

He had flirted, blatantly, right from the get-go. It had been Wade who’d sought out her company, not the other way around. And he’d hinted that since they were friends, she should feel free to talk about her childhood, the recent past, the present.

But he hadn’t told her a single thing about himself.

Sometimes, he wore the weathered look of a man who’d slung more than his share of burdens across his shoulders. What sort of suffering had created those burdens? Patrice could only hope that one day he’d tell her,
and that when he did, she’d have the grit to behave like a true friend.

Something told her she’d need more than strength, though, if he unfolded his past for her to see, because nothing short of “horrible” could have put that haunted look in his beautiful eyes.

His face moved ever so slowly closer, making her wonder what this latest mysterious expression meant. That he was falling in love with her, too? Or did he simply intend to kiss her good-night?

He didn’t leave her wondering for long.

His lips pressed against hers, gently at first, then more firmly. It felt so good, so
right
to be in his arms. She read it as a sign that God approved of this relationship; would it feel this wonderful if He
didn’t
approve?