The Wish List (6 page)

The next morning Faith woke, not wanting to face the bathroom mirror. She hadn’t gotten enough sleep, her eyes were probably puffy, her hair hopelessly tangled from tossing and turning in bed. All because she’d touched Nathan and been seared with a flame of pure, unadulterated sizzle. That tiny bit of contact, a mere brush of fingers against warm male flesh and her blood had heated, her vision had blurred, her lips had tingled. And she’d lost an entire night’s rest.

Now she didn’t even want to look at herself, but this was a work day. Time to face the music, hit the bathroom running, make breakfast, get dressed and tend to her child’s needs.

Braving the mirror, Faith peered at herself, tentatively.

A groan escaped her.

“God, no.”

The face that stared back at her was familiar. It was definitely hers. But this morning the expression in her eyes, that wistful, yearning look also bore vague similarities to her mother, Helen Reynolds. Just the thought was enough to make Faith pale.

Her mother had spent her life hungering after men who were all wrong for her, men who’d broken her heart while Faith looked on. And Faith had promptly grown up and made the same mistake herself. With Jim, her ex-husband.

“Not again,” she said, grasping the metal edge of the medicine cabinet and pulling it open, obliterating her reflection as she fumbled for the ibuprofen. “Never again.”

The cycle was broken. She’d learned her lesson the hard way, and she would not foolishly sigh over some man she couldn’t have just because he was virile and handsome and made her catch her breath whenever their skin happened to touch. She had no intention of doing anything connected with the words
emotions
or
desires
.

She had her self-esteem and pride to consider. More importantly, though, she had Cory to think of. Cory was her everything. They were a family. Yet the very word
family
had been censored from Nathan’s life; it made his eyes turn dark and bleak. She’d seen it happen. He was not for her and Cory—in any fashion.

Faith took out her makeup and ventured another tentative peek into the glass. Good. The lecture had done her good. She was once more in control. And she had a son to see to.

Two minutes later, she entered Cory’s room to find him struggling with his sock.

“Stupid sock,” he grumbled. “Can’t get it on.”

“Because you’ve got it upside down, tiger. See?” Sliding the heel of the sock around to snugly fit Cory’s small foot, Faith hugged him close and handed him his shirt.

“Can you manage the buttons?” she asked, allowing him to struggle for success on his own.

Cory twisted and turned until he finally got his head through the opening. “Mom, come on, I’m a big guy. Course I can.” So Faith sat back, hoping she wouldn’t be late while Cory fumbled both buttons closed at the neck.

Breakfast and twenty minutes had passed by the time they made it to the car, so Faith’s mind was on the speed limit and the annoying red lights when Cory spoke from the back seat.

“Mom, what’s that guy like? The one you see at night.”

With a great deal of luck, Faith kept the car from wobbling. “You mean Dr. Murphy? I don’t know. He’s just a man, one who needs my help.”

“Why can’t you help him during the day? Why do you have to be gone at night? Mandy grumbles for staying late, and she doesn’t cook too good. She doesn’t sing, either. And she can’t help me with the list. I miss you, Mom.”

Automatically, Faith took her foot off the accelerator and tapped the brakes. Slowing, she pulled the car over to the side of the road, undid her seat belt and turned to face her son. “Cory, I miss you, too. So much. And I’m really sorry about the late hours. But this is a special case, and it won’t be for long. We’ll be back to our old life soon. I promise.”

She reached out and ran the backs of her fingers over his cheek in a gentle caress. He was so beautiful and much too intense, this child of hers.

“Cause he’s a doctor? Is that why it’s special?”

“Partly,” Faith agreed on a sigh. “The hospital wants him back pretty badly. They need him.” She looked at Cory, who finally, reluctantly nodded his agreement. Faith turned around, clipped her belt and they continued on their way.

Long seconds of silence ensued. They were nearly to Mandy’s house when Cory spoke again. “Guess I don’t like doctors much. You have that list with you?”

Pulling up in front of the baby-sitter’s house, Faith got out of the car and opened the back door. “The wish list? No, it’s at home.”

Cory frowned. “Okay, but when you get home tonight, I want you to write something on it. All right, Mom?”

Tapping his nose with her finger, Faith smiled as he climbed out. “You got it, sport. What is it you want me to add?”

But she had already guessed.

“Write down ‘Not a doctor.’ Okay?”

“Definitely okay,” she promised as she dropped him at the door and kissed him goodbye.

Not a doctor
. Faith felt a sense of calm wash over her, thinking of the way Cory’s list was progressing. She couldn’t have made a better list herself.

But darn, working in a hospital as she did, the choices were being pared down considerably. And with her hours so booked up, she had no time right now. None at all.

It was going to take longer than she’d hoped to find the right man for her and Cory.

~ ~ ~

Walking into Nathan’s house was like tiptoeing over a land mine today. She had taken herself in hand for the touching incident yesterday, which made for a slightly uncomfortable atmosphere today. And Nathan himself seemed too quiet. Like the eerie absence of sound just before a storm rips up the sky. He’d stopped fighting her.

Maybe he’d noted her reaction to him the day before. She didn’t see how he could have missed it. Her hands had been shaking so badly by the time she’d left that she had barely been able to get the door open.

The thought that she’d been so transparent was embarrassing. Faith promised herself to be nothing short of the perfect therapist today.

“Let’s get to work, Nathan,” she commanded, getting right down to business.

Silently he sat and pushed his hands toward her. “Let’s get it over with.”

Faith noticed that he didn’t look at her. It was as if they were two sets of hands, no bodies. Perhaps she really had done a poor job of hiding her reaction to him yesterday and he was uncomfortable with her.

Well, he wouldn’t have to worry about it happening again. From now on, she would touch him only in a clinical capacity. She would notice nothing but his progress as a patient.

But as Faith leaned over Nathan, guiding him through a series of exercises, she couldn’t help but be aware of her surroundings. When they stopped to give Nathan a chance to rest, she couldn’t keep her eyes from roaming.

Nathan’s house was all natural cedar and sunlight; a beautiful, airy house with few walls. It should have been homey. Instead it was somewhat...naked, empty. The furniture was warm, large and masculine, but the tables stood empty, their surfaces barren. The shelves in the room held little. There wasn’t a plant in sight, and the walls were large, lonely expanses of shining white. No pictures of any kind.

Nothing except one small, framed portrait sitting on a distant shelf. A man, a woman, a child.

Faith recognized Nathan’s face immediately, although the deep sense of satisfaction in his smile was foreign to her. He didn’t look like that now. He no longer smiled, at least not that way.

The woman in the picture was lovely, with curling auburn hair and dark eyes. But the child was what drew Faith’s attention. Small and beautiful, she was a picture postcard little girl, very much like her mother...except for the eyes like green jewels and the dimples that dented her cheeks. It was hard to believe that child was gone, that somewhere on this earth she wasn’t smiling still, waiting for her father to come and find her.

Faith turned and looked at Nathan, at the sharp jawline turned from her, and she saw that his gaze had followed her own. He was staring at the picture as though he hadn’t known it was there, as if he hadn’t seen it in a long time and was wishing that he hadn’t seen it now.

Finally with a jerk, he turned his head away, looked straight into her own eyes which she knew were laced with concern. He held out his hands once again.

“More,” he said, nudging his fingers against her own. “I’m ready to begin again.”

Faith reached out and took his hands. It was all she could do since she knew he wouldn’t welcome her comments or her questions about his family.

As she made sure that his hands were relaxed, she couldn’t help noting how small and feminine her fingers looked against his. And yet her helpless-looking hands were still capable while his grip was still slack, his fingers clumsy. The accident had taken so much. He’d lost it all. His family, his skills.

Resolutely, Faith sat up higher, more determined. This impairment to his hands wasn’t permanent. They could do something about it. And Nathan was impatient to do just that, or at least to work himself free of her presence. She could tell by the way he sat forward, trying to begin before she was done examining him.

“We’ll get there, Nathan. I won’t let you down. But you have to let me set the pace. I’m trained to know what’s too much, when to move ahead and when to slow down.”

Nathan suddenly flipped his hands over so that her fingers were resting on his scarred palms, more evidence that for once
he
was the patient.

Slowly he lowered their hands to the table. “I’m trying to step all over you again. One more example of just how annoying and pushy we doctors can be?”

“You sound like my son,” Faith said with a laugh. Then realizing her error, she promptly sucked in her lips.

Nathan tilted his head. “Cory have a bit of a bad experience with doctors, did he?”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” she said, then stopped, unsure what to say. “It’s just...it’s just—nothing.”

Nathan held one injured hand out as if waiting for her to put something in it or asking for her to come clean. “It’s not nothing judging by the look on your face,” he told her. “There’s a problem with your boy?”

“Nothing much,” she said, reaching for the hands that he now moved away from her touch. “You were right yesterday. Cory’s just having a little trouble adjusting to my being away. It’ll get better.”

A frown appeared on Nathan’s face. “He’s only four, I think you said. Young.”

She nodded. “Really, Nathan, I’m sorry I mentioned it. I’m sorry I even mentioned Cory. It was a slip. Let’s get back to your therapy.”

Reluctantly, it seemed, Nathan moved back into position.

Five minutes later, he looked up. “I asked you not to bring him, but don’t apologize just for saying his name, Faith. You’re his mother, damn it. Of course you’re going to think of him. He’s your child. He’s your world. That’s the way things are.”

But when Faith opened her mouth to speak, Nathan’s face was shuttered, closed again. And in the days that followed she noticed that the picture on the shelf was gone. Now the room was totally bare...and Nathan was more distant than ever.

The days went by, and in a short time, Faith and Nathan fell into a pattern, a sort of wary, impersonal waltz as she moved him through a series of exercises, teaching him what to do when she was away and keeping a careful watch on his progress.

She never touched him again, except for his hands. She never mentioned Cory, never asked any personal questions, and she tried to avoid those mesmerizing eyes as she moved through the motions of helping Nathan regain the flexibility in his fingers.

He was a good patient, intelligent and driven. But she could sense that he was growing more impatient as time went on. She could feel the lava starting to boil beneath the surface.

One day she came in and found him staring at the small bit of rubber that he squeezed to strengthen his grip.

Looking up as if she’d startled him, Nathan managed a small and sheepish smile. “I’m beginning to hate the sight of red rubber,” he confided.

She raised one brow and smiled back. “I could get you blue.”

He stood then, forcing her to look up at him. With one finger he reached out and touched her still smiling mouth. A small feather of skin against skin, but Faith’s lips burned as though he’d stroked her with flame.

“Don’t bother,” he said, withdrawing his hand with a small frown. “I’ll survive. You look—you look different today. Happier. Are things...all right at home?”

It was the first time he’d referred to the conversation they’d had about Cory. And Faith didn’t fail to notice that his question was rather nonspecific.

“Fine,” she said with a nod. “I see your grip’s improving a bit,” she added, nodding toward his hand, moving the conversation onto safer ground.

They were back to their professional relationship. It was as if they’d never smiled, as if Nathan’s touch had gone unnoticed.

Faith should have been glad. She was the one who had made the choice to ignore his concern, his contact, and keep things businesslike. But as the evening passed, she found herself wishing she could make him smile again, a real smile this time, full-lipped and devastating. Dangerous.

There was a good reason for wanting his smiles, she told herself, a very good reason. Recovery involved more than muscles and bone. It was as much psychological as physical. And she’d been cheating Nathan so far, trying to protect herself at his expense. She’d try to remember that in the future.

But the future came sooner than she expected. She was reminded again of just how all-encompassing a therapist’s job was a few days later when a hospital staff meeting threw Faith’s schedule out of whack. Having rearranged her own patients, she arrived at Nathan’s house early to find Hannah, Nathan’s new housekeeper, still there.

“Just leaving,” she said. “I’m out tonight,” the woman boomed at her. Hannah had a body like a semi and a voice to match. “Got a family dinner, but don’t worry. I’ve got Mr. Nathan all set up. The food’s all set to go. I’ll be back in the morning bright and early.”

“But where’s Nathan?” Faith asked, looking around.