His Long-Awaited Bride
Of all the men she’d ever dated, Travis Pendleton had the most potential of being The One. And if their relationship continued to move along as well and as fast as it had so far, she just might be on the way to realizing her dream with time to spare.
Idly, she wondered how Justin would react to news of her getting married. He’d be shocked, to be sure, and would try to change her mind, but if this was the right thing for her to do, then nothing would stand in her way.
But, oh, how she’d love to see the look on his face when she told him….
Justin lingered at the far end of the nurses’ station, out of Marissa’s sight as she sat in front of a computer terminal. She seemed in a good mood, which was a relief considering the way they’d parted thirty minutes ago. Even if she hadn’t been, he’d always been able to wiggle his way back into her good graces. He felt certain he could do so again.
Do you really think so? his little voice asked.
It might not be as easy this time, he admitted. Discrediting the man who’d provided more bouquets than most women saw in a lifetime hadn’t been the smartest thing he’d ever done. He should have known that she’d feel compelled to defend the man. The problem was, he didn’t quite understand why his temper had suddenly flared at the mention of Pendleton and his dramatic gesture.
You’re jealous.
Hardly, he scoffed at Marissa’s words echoing in his mind. He simply didn’t want her to be taken in by a man who was all flash and no substance. If he could save an old friend from making the same mistakes that he had, he would. His motives were as simple as that.
And, yes, Marissa had a good, level head on those pretty shoulders. She could size up a fellow quite well, but none of them had ever gone to such drastic lengths to impress her. What woman wouldn’t be affected by the romance of this grandstand gesture? It was his duty to make sure that an undeserving lout didn’t hang stars in her eyes now, only to blast them to earth later.
Even now, he swore he could smell flowers, although it was probably all in his imagination. That, or the fact that the scent of those damn roses he’d carried had rubbed off on his clothes.
Just as he was about to make his presence known and tell her about his new ICU admission, the phone rang to give him a brief reprieve.
He watched and listened as she spoke with the usual joyful lilt in her voice. From past experience, he knew that one didn’t have to see her to hear her perpetual smile. It was why he always made a point to talk to her either in person or on the phone at the end of the day. Just the sound of her voice lifted his spirits, no matter what his mood.
Her long, light-brown hair was tied back in a ponytail instead of a braid, which meant that she’d probably overslept that morning. It made her appear too young to be the shift charge nurse, but those who were foolish enough to think that a youthful appearance and medical experience couldn’t coexist soon learned otherwise.
She tucked an ink pen behind her ear, drawing his attention to her fine features. Even from his position, he could see the gentle curve of her mouth as she reached out to caress one of the daisy petals with long, slender fingers. He knew just how gentle her touch was—he’d seen her work her magic with her patients and had enjoyed more than one of her back rubs when he’d been dead tired.
To him, though, her hazel eyes, framed with dark lashes, were her best feature. Gazing into them was like watching the different moods of the Atlantic, but whether they sparkled with animation or reflected her genuine care and compassion, they didn’t reveal a lot of what was going on inside her pretty head. For all her friendliness and the years they’d known each other, she was still, in effect, a private person.
Sometimes, like now, he wondered why she hadn’t found the right man to spend her life with, but considering her mother was on husband number four, he understood why she hadn’t rushed into the state of matrimony.
Her mother’s failed marriages aside, he chose to take a small amount of credit for Marissa’s caution. After his own marital fiasco, he’d vowed that none of his friends would be taken in by a pretty face or, in Marissa’s case, a handsome one. No, siree. It wouldn’t happen on his watch.
Perhaps he wouldn’t feel this strongly if someone had warned him about his ex-wife, Chandra. Her gorgeous face and model’s body had hidden a calculating mind and a hard, greedy heart. Within six months of their wedding, she’d maxed their credit cards to the limit “because you’ll be able to afford it, darling. And I have an image to uphold,” she’d cooed.
Some image. He grimaced at the memory. Sleeping with the bank loan officer who’d been helping them obtain the funds for their first home had certainly not been upholding his ideal image of a trustworthy physician or a happy marriage. Neither was having an affair with their accountant, her dentist or their veterinarian. By then, her escapades had killed any feelings he’d had for her.
Had he loved her? He’d thought so at the time, but now he couldn’t say. True love couldn’t be killed so quickly, could it? After all, he missed Maisie, Chandra’s French poodle, more than he missed her.
In any event, she’d eventually walked out because she’d been tired of trying to make their marriage work when she hadn’t loved him. Privately, he doubted if she ever had. She may have loved him for his profession, his future income and his status, but not for him. If he hadn’t been so blinded by lust, he might have seen the same character flaw that his closest friends in med school had seen. But he hadn’t, and they hadn’t uttered a single word. “We hoped we were wrong,” they’d said in their defense.
Unfortunately, they hadn’t been. Now, having been burned by his experience, he’d never sleep at night knowing that he could have saved a friend from misery and hadn’t.
Be that as it may, their personal issues and discussion would have to wait. The soon-to-arrive patient would take precedence.
He approached Marissa as she severed the phone connection. “I’m back,” he announced.
The smile on her face faded. “How nice.”
Her polite tone grated on his nerves but he deserved a chilly reception. Before he could frame an apology, she pointed to the monitor of a second computer. “My notes on Mr. Newland are charted for your review. The pharmacy has already called about renewing his medication orders, so if you can take care of that first—”
“They’ll have to wait. I’m admitting a new patient to the unit, a seventy-year-old female with possible meningitis or encephalitis. I’ll want a spinal tap.” The elevator bell dinged an interruption, and he added, “That’s probably her now.”
She rose and darted around the counter, her cool demeanor changing to her usual professionalism. “I’ll put her in two.”
“Marissa, wait.”
She stopped in her tracks. “Why? Your patient is here.”
As if he needed a reminder. “I know.” He paused. “You need to know something first.”
Impatience flitted across her face. “What?”
“It’s Lucy.”
“Lucy who?”
“Lucy Mullins.”
It took a second for the name to register. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “My Lucy?”
He nodded, intently watching her response.
Lucy Mullins might be Marissa’s seventy-year-old neighbor, but she was far more than that. Neither woman had any family to speak of, and he knew that Lucy offered friendship, homemade cookies and motherly advice whenever any of the above were needed.
The worry in Marissa’s eyes turned to determination. “As soon as I’ve gotten her settled into room two and am ready for the spinal tap, I’ll let you know.”
She headed in that direction, but Justin’s hand on her arm held her in place. “What now?” she asked impatiently.
“Ask Kristi to take over for you.”
She stared at him, incredulous. “Why? Lucy is my patient.”
He shook his head, aware that she wouldn’t like what he would say next any better than she’d liked his comments about Pendleton. “Not today she isn’t.”
CHAPTER TWO
JUSTIN braced himself for her inevitable outburst and hoped he could make her see reason.
“What do you mean, she isn’t my patient?” Marissa demanded, her eyes flashing fire.
“Just that.”
“Of course she’s my patient,” she snapped. “Not only do I have two patients to Kristi’s three, but I’m in charge of nursing assignments.”
Her emphasis on I didn’t escape him, but he knew it would be better for all concerned if Marissa stepped aside. “You’re too close to the situation,” he pointed out. “You won’t be objective.”
“I won’t be objective?” she sputtered.
“This isn’t any different than a physician treating a family member,” he countered. “So don’t get all up in arms about it. I just think—”
Marissa leaned close enough that he could feel her breath whisper across his chin. “Don’t. Don’t think at all, because you can’t stop me from making a nursing decision. You won’t stop me from looking after Lucy. I’m the senior nurse on this unit and I—not you—make the patient assignments.”
He’d hoped this would be easy, although he knew before he left the ER that it wouldn’t. “I can go over your head. And if I do, you know I’ll win.”
Once again her jaw dropped before she clamped her mouth into a tight line. Obviously she knew that if he spoke with the director of nursing, Marissa’s decision would be overruled. Not to mention there was also the distinct possibility that Lorraine might transfer her to another unit for the duration of Lucy’s stay.
“I’m sure you would,” she said quietly, “but if you stood in my shoes, wouldn’t you want to be in the middle of things, too? Lucy is important to me, which is all the more reason why I will do whatever it takes to see her well.”
“I understand but—”
“I can do this,” she urged. “I know I can. Don’t do this to me. Or to Lucy.”
He hesitated. Lucy had always been vocal about disliking hospitals. Given the choice, she’d want Marissa taking care of her. Hell, he’d want Marissa taking care of him, too, if he were seriously ill. But if Lucy went into convulsions or suffered other complications, he didn’t want to worry about Marissa being too distraught to keep her wits about her.
“Have I ever fallen apart on you before?”
Her gaze was steady and he couldn’t lie. “No.”
“Then I won’t this time, either.”
The ER nurse halted next to the nurses’ station counter. “Where do you want us?”
Marissa’s gaze didn’t waver from Justin’s. “Room two,” she told her colleague. As soon as the nurse began wheeling the gurney in the right direction, Marissa tapped her foot. “Well?”
His resolve wavered. “Okay, but if it looks like you can’t handle whatever happens—”
“I’ll voluntarily step aside,” she finished quickly.
He studied her expression. Although he knew that Marissa had never been anything but honest, he wanted everything spelled out clearly to avoid a misunderstanding. “You’re certain.”
“I’m positive. Lucy’s health comes first.”
“No arguments?”
“No arguments,” she promised.
“Then let’s get to work.”
Let’s get to work. As if she were the one who’d been holding up the process, Marissa thought with exasperation as she hurried to catch up to her new patient. And yet, with each step forward, she was grateful that she’d won the battle to look after the woman who seemed more like her mother than her own.
Lucy’s face appeared pale under the tan she’d already earned this spring, and her mouth was pressed into a line, as if she were in pain. She was a small woman, but Marissa never thought of her in terms of size. Her spirited personality had more than compensated for her petite frame as she puttered in her garden and engaged in enough volunteer activities to send a person half her age to bed. Right now, she hardly made a bump under the coverlet. Part of Marissa wanted to gasp in dismay, but the man she was trying to ignore would only see her reaction as a sign of weakness.
“Sorry to be such a bother.” Lucy smiled wanly as she spoke in a quivery voice that was completely unlike the vital woman Marissa had known for several years.
Marissa forced herself to act cheerfully. “No bother at all. We’re here to take care of you. In the meantime, we’re going to move you to a real bed, but I don’t want you to do a thing. Just lie there and let us do the work.”
On the count of three, they transferred Lucy carefully onto the other mattress. As soon as the ER nurse left, Marissa hurried to make Lucy as comfortable as possible with an extra pillow and warm blankets, conscious of Justin watching from his place near the foot of the bed.
As Marissa hooked Lucy to the usual monitors and checked her vital signs, she quizzed the elderly lady. “How long have you been feeling poorly? You should have said something to me last night,” she chided gently, noting the woman’s elevated temperature.
“It’s nothing really.” Lucy tried to wave her hand, then stopped, as if the motion required too much effort. “I’ve had a terribly bad headache that won’t disappear, as well as a stiff neck that’s gotten worse over the last day or so. Some nausea, too. I think it’s just a bad case of the flu, although no one will listen to me.” She cast a baleful glance in Justin’s direction.
Marissa knew that his suspicions ran to something more serious than a touch of influenza, which was why he’d ordered the spinal tap. “We’ll find out if it’s the flu or not,” she said cheerfully.
“I’m going to check on your lab results from the ER,” Justin interrupted, “and then I’ll be back. Okay?”
Lucy nodded as she closed her eyes. “I believe I’ll nap in the meantime.”
“Go right ahead.” He met Marissa’s gaze and inclined his head toward the door in a silent request for her to follow.
“Keep a close eye on her,” he said in a low voice as soon as they stood in the hallway. “The ER staff reported that she seemed confused at times. You’ll know better than anyone if she shows the same signs here.”
Marissa nodded, feeling guilty because she hadn’t noticed how sick Lucy had been the previous night. She almost said as much, but kept silent. She wouldn’t give Justin any grounds for replacing her as Lucy’s nurse.
Justin laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault, you know.”
His uncanny perception caught her off guard. “What?”
“It’s not your fault,” he repeated. “Don’t feel guilty that you didn’t see how ill she’s been.”
“Who said I did?” she prevaricated.
“No one. I can tell by the look on your face.” He paused. “Lucy is one of those people who suffer in silence, so don’t beat yourself up for not noticing her condition. Okay?” He tipped up her chin so that her gaze met his.
“Okay,” she agreed.
“Good.” He sounded satisfied. “As soon as you’re ready, I’ll get started.”
She nodded. “Give me a couple of minutes to set up.” By the time she’d returned with the supplies, Justin had the latest lab report in his hand and was explaining the procedure to the elderly lady.
“It won’t be very pleasant,” he warned with an apologetic smile.
Lucy closed her eyes and nodded. “I’m not feeling particularly chipper right now, so anything you do will just blend in with all the other aches and pains.”
He patted her forearm as he stared down at her with the compassionate gaze that Marissa had seen him give his patients so often. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. I promise.”
“Thank you,” Lucy whispered, before her eyes glimmered with unshed tears and she sniffled. “You’ll think me a silly old woman,” she said in a wobbly voice that testified how strongly his conviction had touched her heart.
“You’ll be weeding those petunias before long,” Justin said with a wink.
A lump formed in Marissa’s throat as she set the LP tray on the bedside table. She’d always dealt with her patients and their problems objectively, but it bothered her to see this seemingly unstoppable woman in such a state. Justin’s fierce determination was as reassuring to her as it clearly was to Lucy. Fighting the urge to grab a tissue for herself out of the box he’d handed to his patient while knowing that if she did, she’d be sidelined before she could say “Intensive Care,” she marveled at his ability to always say the right thing to his patients. Lucy wouldn’t have been satisfied if he’d told her not to worry. Unlike some people, she was the sort who wanted answers, even if they weren’t good, and Justin had, in effect, promised to deliver.
However, even if Lucy had been content with a platitude, her physician still wouldn’t leave a stone unturned when dealing with her medical problems. Marissa wondered if his patients really knew how deeply he threw himself into their care; most probably didn’t have a clue as to the lengths he went to for any one of them. If the answers weren’t obvious, he spent hours researching their symptoms and contacting specialists.
Little wonder that he had no life outside the hospital. After his wife of eighteen months had packed her bags and left him on the same day he’d graduated from med school, he’d slept more often in doctors’ lounges than in his own bed.
Come to think of it, he’d probably slept more often on her sofa than in his own bed, too.
“I have complete faith in you both,” Lucy said, as she blotted her eyes dry. “Now, tell me again about how you’re going to poke a needle in my spine.”
His raised eyebrow and pained expression as he glanced at Marissa suggested that he didn’t appreciate the way Lucy had broken down his explanation. He’d obviously forgotten that age had given Lucy the right to plain speaking because, as she’d said more than once, being on the downhill slope of life meant that if she didn’t speak her mind, she might never have another opportunity. At her age, she couldn’t count on having a second chance to say what needed to be said.
“Actually, I’ll be sliding the needle. Not poking.”
Lucy waved her hand. “From where I’m sitting, it’s the same difference. Either way you look at it, I’ve got a sharp object stuck in my back.”
He chuckled. “True, but it won’t be for long.”
“And don’t worry,” Marissa came in. “Justin will make the experience as painless as possible.”
“I’d appreciate it,” Lucy said fervently.
Marissa gave her neighbor’s hand a final squeeze, then arranged the table so that Justin’s supplies would be positioned just the way he liked them. She’d worked alongside him enough times to create a routine that had become second nature. And because she didn’t have to ponder his every move, she paid more attention to his conversation with his patient. He outlined everything in the right mix of medical and lay terms for Lucy to know, step by step, what would happen during the next few minutes.
As she watched Lucy visibly relax and the heart monitor reflect similar changes, she guessed that the soothing timbre of his voice was just as responsible as his matter-of-fact explanations. Although she knew that a spinal tap wasn’t quite as simple as he made it sound, his voice carried such certainty and authority that even the most nervous patient’s worries would have faded away.
Truthfully, though, Justin was the best of the best—even with a hand that had never fully recovered from the injuries he’d received in a plane crash—and she wasn’t admitting that out of loyalty. Having seen her share of physicians whose skill ranged from the average to the exceptional, she knew in which physician she’d place her complete trust. Lucy couldn’t have asked for anyone better.
“If those are all of your questions,” Justin said, signaling Marissa to move Lucy into a recumbent position with her back toward him, “we’ll get started.”
“All right, but I think you’re making too much fuss over a headache and a stiff neck,” Lucy grumbled, although her tone lacked any spark of conviction. “I only came to the ER to get stronger pain relief.”
“Taking care of my patients isn’t making a fuss,” Justin remarked as he donned his sterile gloves.
“How long have you felt like this?” Marissa asked, aware that Lucy had evaded her earlier question. Three days ago, Lucy had been puttering among her flowers and although Marissa had only waved and chatted with her over the fence for a few minutes the previous night, Lucy had seemed fine.
“About a week.”
“A week?” Marissa was horrified. Her guilt for not noticing Lucy’s deterioration grew to epic proportions until it threatened to choke her. “And you didn’t say anything?”
“Oh, dearie. When you get to my age, you try to ignore as much as you can. Why, if I called you or ran to the doctor every time I had an ache or a pain, I’d be wearing out the furniture in Justin’s waiting room.”
“I wish you would wear out those chairs,” he replied as his sidelong glance at Marissa reminded her of their earlier conversation about not feeling guilty. “My waiting room needs a face-lift,” he continued.
“A face-lift?” Marissa echoed. “Wow. I can’t believe you actually admitted it.”
“I’m not completely oblivious to my surroundings,” he said defensively. “Pea-green chairs and gold wallpaper aren’t exactly soothing colors to healthy people, much less sick ones.”
Marissa stared at him in awe. “You actually notice things like that?”
“Of course I do, but if you’re going to start nagging me again about how it’s time I paint my house and buy matching furniture…” His voice held a warning note.
“Why would I do that?” she asked innocently as she mentally added neckties to the list. “Every time I mention it, my suggestion falls on deaf ears, so I won’t waste my breath.” For the last few years, she’d tried to convince him to put his own stamp on the house he’d bought when he’d moved to Hope. A man of his standing in the community needed more than a bed and a dresser, a kitchen table with two chairs and a sofa courtesy of someone’s garage sale. But, as he liked to remind her, he spent more time at the hospital and her house than his, so what did he care if his walls were bare and he didn’t fill every nook and cranny with furniture?
“Good idea.”
While Justin raised the bed to the right height for him to work, Marissa helped Lucy draw her knees to her abdomen and flex her neck before she covered her exposed back with a sterile drape.
“This may be cold.” Justin prepped the skin over Lucy’s spine with antiseptic-soaked, cotton-tipped applicators.
Lucy’s sharp intake of breath suggested that she agreed. “I really don’t want to think about what you’re doing,” she began, “so to keep my mind off the idea of your using me as a pin cushion, I want to chat.”
“What about?” Justin asked.
“The flowers.”
“Flowers?” Marissa asked absentmindedly as she tried to anticipate Justin’s needs. “Your petunias look wonderful.”
“Not those. I’m asking about the ones in the nurses’ station.”
“Oh.” Marissa was beginning to hate flowers or any mention thereof. “Those.”
“Yes, those. I caught the distinct scent of roses, even though I didn’t see any.”
Marissa inwardly sighed. Travis’s actions may have been sweet, but they were certainly causing quite a stir. “We did have roses earlier,” she admitted, “but they aren’t here anymore.”
“Ah,” Lucy said, a satisfied set on her face. “I thought so. I may be old, but my nose still works perfectly.”
“Actually,” Justin added smoothly as he injected lidocaine into the area around Lucy’s spine, “Marissa got all sorts of flowers. It was quite exciting. Wasn’t it, Mari?”
She frowned at him, wishing she could tell him to stuff a sock in it. If she wanted to discuss the meaning behind the flowers with Lucy—and she did—she’d rather do so without an audience. But he’d brought it up and now she had no choice….
Justin raised an eyebrow as he waited for Marissa to explain the details. He wasn’t particularly eager to address the issue of those blasted flowers because he had a feeling that he wouldn’t like what he’d hear, but if the conversation kept Lucy’s mind off what he was doing, then he’d suffer through it.