nurse an appreciative smile.
The fresh-out-of-nursing-school girl blinked twice before she said in a syrupy tone, “I’ll put it on his chart, Dr. McIntyre.”
“I don’t see—” Hannah began.
“Those are the rules. You have to be out of here by seven and can’t come back in until eight in the morning,” Scott said in a flat, authoritative tone.
“I guess I don’t have a choice, then.” “No, you don’t.” Scott’s words came out even and to the point.
Enunciating the numbers to her cellphone with care, Hannah watched to make sure each one was written correctly. The way the nurse was acting around Scott, she might make a mistake.
As Hannah gave the last digit Scott approached his patient’s bed. “Hello, Jake. I’m Dr. McIntyre. You can call me Dr. Mac.”
Jake didn’t look at Scott’s face, but focused instead on his chest, reaching his hand out.
Hannah moved around the bed to stand opposite Scott to see what Jake was so engrossed in.
“Oh, I see you found my friend.” Scott smiled down at Jake. “His name is Bear. He rides around with me. Would you like to hold him?”
Jake’s eyes lost their look of fear as they remained riveted on the tiny animal. His fingers wiggled in an effort to reach the toy.
Unclipping the toy from his stethoscope, Scott offered it to Jake.
Scott’s charm obviously extended to his young patients. Jake didn’t always take to new people but Scott had managed to make her son grin despite the ugliness of the place. Hannah sighed. Scott looked up and gave her a reassuring smile. She didn’t like the stream of warmth that flowed through her cold body. Still, a kind, familiar face in her life was reassuring right now, even if it was Scott’s.
“My bear hasn’t been well. Could he stay with you?” Jake gave Scott a weak nod before Scott handed Jake the bear. “I need to listen to your heart now. I’m going to put this little thing on you and the other end in my ears, okay?”
Small creases of concentration formed between Scott’s eyes as he moved the instrument across Jake’s outwardly perfect chest. She’d always admired Scott’s strong, capable hands. The same ones that were caring for her child had skimmed across her body with equal skill and confidence. She shivered. Those memories should’ve been long buried, covered over with bitter disappointment.
She’d been around enough doctors to recognize one secure in his abilities. Scott seemed to have stepped into the role of pediatric surgeon with no effort. He certainly knew what to do to keep Jake from being scared, at least she’d give him that much. Maybe she could put her hope in him professionally, if not emotionally. She wanted to trust him. Desperately wanted to.
Jake’s eyelids drooped but he continued to clutch the toy.
Scott removed the earpieces, looping the stethoscope around his neck.
“Scott, thanks for giving Jake the bear. He looked so afraid before. I still can’t believe he needs a heart transplant,” she said in little more than a whisper that held all the agony she felt. “He doesn’t look that sick.”
She prayed his next words would contradict the truth she saw on his face.
“I realize that by looking at him it’s hard to believe, but it is the truth.”
Hannah’s knees shook. With swift agility, Scott circled the bed, his fingers wrapping her waist, steadying her.
She jerked away. The warmth of his touch radiated through her.
As if conscious of the nurse nearby, he dropped his hand to his side.
“I’m fine.” For a second she’d wanted to lean against him, to take the support he offered.
Hannah peered at him. Had hurt filled his eyes before they’d turned businesslike again? The unexpected look had come and gone with the flicker of his lids. Had she really seen it? Could she trust herself to interpret his looks correctly?
“You need to understand a heart transplant isn’t a fix. It’s exchanging one set of problems for another. Jake will always be on meds and have to come to the hospital for regular check-ups.”
“I understand that. I’ll take care of him.”
Scott placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t touch me.”
He dropped his hand. “Hannah, I know this is rough. But we were friends at one time. Please let me help.”
“Look, Scott, the only help I need from you is to get Jake a heart.”
“Hannah, we’re going to get Jake through this.”
“I hope so. My son’s life depends on you.” She couldn’t afford for him to be wrong, the stakes were much too high.
“Hannah, with a heart transplant Jake can live.”
Like before? Would he still squeal when she blew on his belly? Would he giggle when she blew bubbles and they burst above his head? Her sweet, loving child was dying in front of her eyes.
Scott was saying all the right things, but could she believe him? “It’s not your kid, so you really don’t have any idea how hard this is, do you?”
The muscle in his jaw jumped, before he said, “No, I guess I don’t. But I do know I’m a skilled surgeon and this is an excellent hospital with outstanding staff. We can help Jake and we will.”
“I’m counting on that.”
In his office, using the time between surgeries, Scott waded through the stack of papers cluttering his desk. He leaned back in his chair. Hannah’s face with those expressive green eyes slipped into his mind for the hundredth—or was it the thousandth?—time in the last few hours. She’d looked just as shocked to see him as he’d been to see her. It had required all his concentration to stay focused on what they had been discussing.
He couldn’t have been more astonished to find a red-eyed Hannah looking at him expectantly as he’d entered the conference room. Andrea normally arrived ahead of him but she’d had to answer a page. He’d stepped into the room, and back through time.
Hannah’s hushed whisper of his name had made him want to hug her. But she’d made it clear she’d never allow him. Guilt washed over him. Of course she didn’t want his comfort. He’d hurt her, and for that he was sorry, but he’d believed it was for the best.
He’d wanted her desperately that night eight years ago, and she’d come to him so sweet and willingly, trust filling her eyes. If he could have stopped, he would have, but, heaven help him, he hadn’t been able to. He’d handled things poorly the next morning. She had been too young, in her second year of nursing school. He had been an intern with a career plan that wouldn’t allow him to be distracted. He’d refused to lead her on, have her make plans around him. He hadn’t been ready to commit then, and he wouldn’t commit now.
Andrea had entered before he’d
