have it all together had brothers with cancer? Her heart tugged. She’d been focused on her own circumstances too much. No one made it through life without challenges, and Dr. Hendricks was no exception.
“I didn’t realize your brother had cancer,” Rikki said.
“Yeah, well, he’s putting up a good fight.”
“What kind?”
“Leukemia.”
Her hand fisted on the soft rubber ball the nurse had given her to hold throughout the donation process. She forgot to let up, and her knuckles went white.
A few moments of strained silence followed. What else could she possibly say? I’m sorry? What did it matter how she felt about his brother having a life-threatening disease? She meant nothing to Dr. Hendricks.
“Has he considered a bone-marrow transplant?”
“He’s adopted and no one in our immediate family is a match for him.”
“I’m on the National Marrow Donor Registry. Have our lab check it out. I think there’s a one in forty thousand chance he’ll find a match.”
Dane gave her a surprised but pleased glance. “That’s a good suggestion. Well, we’ll see how this next round of chemo goes.”
Rikki gathered he didn’t want to discuss the topic any further, and pushed the “play” button to start the DVD—anything to help distract her and chase away the awkward silence.
He stretched his shoulders and popped his neck before settling down.
“My daughters wear shoes just like that. Aren’t they called Mary Janes?”
She glanced at her feet. “Yes.” She flexed and pointed her toes. She’d spent one entire afternoon looking for her size of the unique shoes on the online auction network.
“I buy them for my girls because they’re sturdy and have good support. Why do you wear them?”
“I like them?”
“Why don’t those lacy black tights go all the way to your feet?”
How old was he? Didn’t he know that leggings were back in? “They’re leggings. They’re not supposed to.”
“I see.”
If I don’t look at him, maybe he’ll leave me alone. She fidgeted with her hair.
“That’s an interesting look with your denim skirt.”
No luck. She tried not to sigh.
“I think my grandfather used to own an Argyle sweater like the one you’re wearing.”
Growing more uncomfortable each second with his examination of her style of dress, she tried to divert his attention. “It’s the retro look. So, how old are your daughters?”
“Four.”
“Both of them?”
“That would make them twins.”
“Ah. Right. How nice.”
“Nice? It’s a nightmare. I mean, what am I supposed to do with two little girls? They want to play house and dress up and have tea parties. What about football? Playing catch?” He scrubbed his face. “Before they grew hair, I’d never tied a bow in my life. Now I’m forced to be a ribbon expert.”
Rikki sputtered a laugh. “Can’t your wife help?” She glanced at his empty ring finger, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything these days. What if she’d said the wrong thing?
His casual expression changed along with the tone of his voice. No longer jovial, he spoke softly. “I’m a single father.”
She’d gone and done it again, taken a friendly conversation and ruined it, just like her last foster-mother had told her. “You always ruin things, Rachel Johansen. Learn to keep your mouth shut. You’re lucky to have a place to live.”
She restarted the movie and wished she could disappear.
“What are we watching?” Dr. Hendricks sounded like himself again. Was he giving her a second chance to put her Mary Jane clad foot into her mouth? Well, if he thought her style of dress was strange, he was bound to make fun of her quirky choice in movies.
“Monty Python,” she mumbled.
He grinned. “Good choice. I see we’re members of the same cult.”
She looked at him with surprise. He winked, and a quick flutter burst across her chest. Positive the simple gesture hadn’t meant anything to him, she wished she could resist his charm half as easily.
Nurse Sheila came by and checked both of their arms. “Are these IVs OK for you two?”
Rikki nodded and smiled.
Dr. Hendricks glanced at one of his arms. “’Tis but a flesh wound,” he said with a poor excuse for a British accent.
Rikki’s quiet laugh drew his attention. She saw that spark in his gaze again, and it jolted her. Thick dark lashes that any woman would die for lined the green of his eyes. If it weren’t for the fact that he wore small wire-framed glasses, he’d be flawless. But wasn’t that part of what she liked so much about him, the fact that he wasn’t quite perfect?
The next time he made her feel nervous at work, she’d just imagine him sitting on the floor, legs crossed, playing dolls with two little pixies. Her mouth twitched at the corners.
Rikki relaxed. And if he enjoyed the humor of Monty Python, he just might understand her quirky personality. Something about that possibility made her break into a smile.
He caught her. They grinned at each other, and her heart broke into another tap dance. The quick rush made her mildly giddy, and she liked it. And there was that look again.
“I believe,” he said, removing his glasses and looking steadily into her eyes, “I owe you an apology.”
CHAPTER TWO
AFTER a day off on Friday when Rikki rested, rehydrated herself, and spent quality time with Brenden, she arrived at work on Saturday morning invigorated and ready for duty. It was a hell of a way to spend her birthday, but she didn’t have any other plans. The call light in 408 was already on at the nurses’ station—the fractured pelvis lady.
Rikki flopped her clipboard on the counter and headed for the room. Her hunch was right and she discovered the usual suspect on the call light. But the woman wore a worried expression, and pointed towards her roommate, the fractured femur in bed B.
She rushed to the restless and coughing patient.
“What’s up, Mrs. Turner?”
The woman squirmed and pulled at her hospital gown. Her left leg, suspended by traction and a splint, had been healing beautifully, considering the hardware sticking out of it. She hadn’t
