“This would go a lot better if you spoke English.”
“If the dog spoke English, we would have other issues.”
Montana spun toward the speaker and saw Simon standing by the doors leading to the burn unit.
He was as tall as she remembered, and just as incredibly good-looking. At least on the one side. The white coat was still intimidating, she realized as she swallowed.
She blinked at him, replaying his words in her mind. “Was that humor?” she asked, before she could stop herself. “Were you being funny?”
Nothing about his expression changed. “Apparently not.”
She winced. “I’m sorry. I should have laughed. I’m just nervous. You’re really scary.”
One eyebrow rose. “Do you always say what you think?”
“I try not to,” she admitted. “Sometimes I can’t help myself.”
“If you say anything to hurt my patient …”
Emotion flashed in his smoky-green eyes. Anger and determination. A need to protect.
She supposed she should have been insulted or more frightened, but oddly enough his intensity reassured her. “You take care of them. Your patients, I mean.”
“That’s my job.”
“But that’s not why you do it. You care.” She smiled. “That’s nice.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
He didn’t sound as if he were glad at all, but that was okay.
He motioned to Cece. “The dog is clean?”
“Yes. I spoke with one of your nurses this morning and used the soap she recommended. She’s been kept away from the other dogs and hasn’t been outside since her bath.”
“Thank you.” Simon frowned. “Won’t she have to go to the bathroom?”
“Cece is paper trained. She can go on a puppy pad.” Montana did her best not to smile. “Don’t worry. She’s not going to pee on the bed.”
“Good to know.” He glanced toward the doors, then back at her. “Since you’re not a medical professional, you probably don’t know what to expect. Kalinda’s burns are recent. While she’s bandaged, there are exposed areas of her skin. It’s raw and unattractive. There’s a smell, from the burns and the various medicines we use. She’s in pain and is exhausted.”
Montana nodded, her smile fading. “I wish I could do something to help.”
“Hopefully the dog will accomplish that. Recovering from burns takes years. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. Despite our best efforts, the worst cases can never be what everyone would call normal. It’s a failing.”
She studied him, suddenly aware that he considered it a personal failing. As if he should be able to do better than everyone else.
“You’ll stay fifteen minutes, then leave. We’ll assess how the visit went before deciding if they will continue.”
Before she was ready, he’d pushed open one of the doors and motioned for her to follow.
The last time she’d been on the burn ward she’d been more concerned about getting Fluffy under control than noticing her surroundings. Now she was aware of closed doors with warnings about isolation and cleanliness. As she walked with Simon, she was aware of his scars. When he spoke of the effort of recovery, he spoke from personal experience. She wondered what had happened to him and when.
They stopped in front of a half-closed door. Simon pushed it open and a woman in her late twenties stepped out. She was petite and obviously exhausted. Her skin was gray and dark circles shadowed her blue eyes. When she saw Montana or, more precisely, Cece, she smiled.
“You brought a little dog!”
Montana moved toward her. “I’m Montana Hendrix. This is Cece. She’s a trained therapy dog.”
“Fay Riley.” The woman let Cece sniff her fingers. “This is exactly what Kalinda needs. Thank you so much for bringing her.” Fay’s gaze moved to Simon. “And you for arranging it.”
“Let’s see how they get along,” Simon said.
Montana moved toward the room. Fay put her hand on her arm. “Did he tell you about …” She swallowed and tears filled her eyes. “She was burned pretty bad.”
“I’m so sorry for what happened,” Montana told her as she drew in a breath. “We’re going to do everything we can to make her feel a little bit better. That’s what Cece’s been trained for.”
Fay glanced at Simon, then nodded and pushed the door open more.
Montana drew a steadying breath. Whatever she saw would be nothing compared to what Kalinda was going through. Montana only had to deal with the burns from a distance. Kalinda was living them. Montana vowed she wouldn’t react in any way, no matter what.
But the promise was harder to keep than she’d expected. The girl on the bed seemed so small and helpless. Her arms were wrapped in white bandages, only the tips of her fingers exposed. Her face was a mass of raw skin, as was her neck. Thick ointment covered the burns.
The scent of disinfectant mingled with that of burned flesh and a rotting smell. For a second, Montana thought she might gag, but then she got herself under control and reminded herself to smile.
“Kalinda?” Fay said quietly. “You have a visitor.”
The girl opened her eyes. They were startlingly blue against the angry burns. Montana’s first thought was that she must have been a very pretty child, before the accident. Her second thought was she’d never seen that much pain in anyone’s expression before.
“Hi. I’m Montana and this is Cece. Your mom said you liked dogs, so I hope it’s okay I brought her to see you.”
Kalinda nodded rather than spoke. She moved her head slightly, then winced and tears filled her eyes.
Montana felt her own throat tighten at her obvious suffering. She wanted to turn to Simon and demand he do something. Make it better. Yet she already knew he was doing as much as he could. Some things simply couldn’t be fixed.
She set Cece on the bed. Simon moved to the other side, hovering protectively. She expected him to start issuing orders, but instead he waited.
Cece, all six pounds of her, studied Kalinda for a few seconds. Then she carefully made her way to the girl’s side. She curled up between Kalinda’s hip and her hand, stretched her neck a little and licked the exposed fingertips.
The girl smiled.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice scratchy. Her eyes sank closed, but her fingers moved against Cece’s side.
Montana stood by the bed for what felt like hours, but was probably only fifteen minutes. When Simon nodded, she picked up Cece
