Could It Be Magic?. Melanie Rose

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Could It Be Magic? - Melanie Rose

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soaked-to-the-skin girl who was stupid enough to be struck by a bolt of lightning five minutes after we’d met?

      My cheeks flushed again at the thought, and I buried my face in my hands with a groan of embarrassment.

      ‘Hi there.’

      I dropped my hands and looked up. He was standing smiling at me, as if he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. With calm, measured movements, he handed the flowers to me, pulled up a red vinyl hospital chair and sat down next to the bed.

      ‘How are you feeling today?’

      ‘Better, thanks,’ I croaked. ‘I’ve just been told I can go home later.’ Clearing my throat, I tried to gain control of my vocal cords. ‘I owe you a big thank you. The nurse told me you brought me in yesterday.’

      ‘I couldn’t very well leave you lying unconscious in the rain,’ he said with a smile.

      The twinkle in his deep blue eyes was disconcerting. I tried to stop my lips from forming into an indignant pout and forced myself to remember my manners.

      ‘The nurse also said you were minding Frankie for me. I can’t thank you enough.’

      ‘It’s the least I could do,’ he said, his smile widening broadly.

      ‘You’re laughing at me,’ I accused him in a teasing voice. ‘I realise I probably don’t look much of a picture lying here in a hospital gown, with no make-up, but you could have the decency to at least pretend I’m not a complete mess.’

      ‘Are we having our first argument?’ he asked with a grin.

      I stared at him, momentarily speechless, then burst out laughing. I remembered then how we’d laughed at each other the first moment we’d met.

      ‘I suppose you’ve not seen me looking anything other than a mess,’ I managed when the laughter had died down.

      ‘You’re really not all that bad,’ he said quietly. ‘With or without make-up, soaked to the skin and smouldering in a puddle, or looking palely interesting in a hospital gown.’

      I gazed up at him, wondering if he was joking, this knight in shining armour who had appeared in my life like a bolt from the blue. Despite the twinkle in his eyes I had the feeling he was being serious. I wanted to say that he was the most gorgeous guy I’d ever seen, but I thought better of it, smiled instead and asked him his name.

      ‘I’m Daniel Brennan,’ he said formally, holding out his hand. ‘Dan to my friends.’

      ‘Hello Dan,’ I replied. ‘I believe you already found out my name from Frankie’s disc.’

      ‘Yeah, you had no handbag, nothing in your pockets. Then I realised your dog had a nametag on her collar with your details on the back.’

      ‘A regular Sherlock Holmes,’ I laughed. ‘Is Frankie okay?’

      ‘She went frantic when the lightning struck,’ Dan said. ‘I thought she was going to bury you with mud before I could get to you.’

      ‘Poor Frankie.’

      ‘It wasn’t too great for any of us,’ he said, his expression serious at last. ‘At first, I thought you were dead, your breathing was so shallow I could hardly detect it, and the dogs were going wild. The rain just got worse and worse while I was trying to find a pulse, and you seemed to be getting so cold. In the end I just picked you up, threw you onto the back seat of my car wrapped in the dog blanket, chucked the dogs in the back and drove like hell to the nearest A & E department.’

      ‘I’m so sorry. It must have been awful for you.’

      ‘Do you know what I was thinking as I drove you here? Not what trouble I’d be in if I turned up with the dead body of an unknown female in my car, but how terrible it would be never to hear you laugh again.’

      I looked at him askance, and was struggling to think of a suitable reply when he scraped back the chair and sprang to his feet.

      ‘Hey, I’ll get you a vase or something for these, shall I?’ He grabbed the flowers from my lap and took off down the ward with such speed I thought he was in danger of slipping on the shiny linoleum flooring.

      I lay back as a tremor ran through my body that had nothing to do with the lightning strike.

      He was gone a while, and I was beginning to think he had left the hospital when he reappeared with the flowers, still minus a vase.

      ‘I’ve been talking to the nurse,’ he said, resting the flowers on the top of the cabinet. ‘He said you can go home as soon as you’re ready. He’ll be along in a moment to sort you out.’ He gestured to the flowers. ‘We may as well take these home with us.’

      The word ‘us’ sent another tremor down my spine, and I glanced up at him questioningly.

      He grinned with his piercing Brad Pitt eyes. ‘I’m assuming you’ll need a lift, as your car is presumably somewhere in a car park near the Downs?’

      Struggling to keep the excitement out of my voice, I nodded. ‘That would be very kind of you.’

      ‘It won’t be the first time you’ve been in my car, after all,’ he joked. ‘Only last time you were unconscious and dripping rainwater all over the upholstery.’

      The nurse arrived with a bundle of clothing and asked if I wanted Dan on the inside or the outside of the curtain while I changed. I smiled inwardly at the assumption that Dan was my boyfriend. Dan held up his hands as the curtain was pulled round the bed and stepped smartly out into the ward.

      The nurse produced a pair of scissors from his short tunic pocket and snipped off my plastic nametag. ‘The gauze dressing can come off in a few days,’ he said. ‘If you have any trouble see your GP, but your burns are minor. You were lucky to be wearing such a thick jacket.’ He straightened up. ‘There you are. Free to go. And next time stay indoors during thunderstorms!’

      Slipping out of bed, I pulled off the thin hospital gown and laid it on the bed. It felt strange being upright; I was still a little shaky. Sinking down on the bed again I struggled into my underclothes, careful to position my bra strap well away from the sore spot on my shoulder, then pulled the jeans up and fastened them. Someone must have dried them for me overnight because although they were encrusted with mud they were bone dry. It was when I unfolded the sweater that I realised what the nurse had meant about how lucky I’d been to be virtually unscathed. On the back of the left shoulder was a blackened scorch mark about the size of an orange.

      Gingerly, I smoothed out the old-fashioned sheepskin coat I used for dog walking. My mother had been going to donate it to a jumble sale years ago and had given it to me when I’d exclaimed how useful it would be for walking Frankie on the Downs in all weathers. I felt the hairs stand up on the back of my neck when I looked at the area around the shoulder where the lightning had struck. It had actually run into a singed mess closely resembling melted plastic.

      Shuddering, I realised how close I must have come to being as badly injured as the Lauren of my dream. Was this ancient coat all that had stood between me and possible death? Tracing the burned area with my finger, I felt my mouth dry. If this vicious burn had been directed onto my skin and not deflected by the thick natural fabric of the coat,

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