Australian Affairs: Tempted: Tempted by Dr. Morales

CHAPTER FOUR

JUAN WOUND UP the party and did not invite anybody else to stay the night.

As the last taxi pulled off, he didn’t even look at the clock or tidy up, he just undressed and headed to bed and tried to get Cate Nicholls out of his head.

She was way too serious for him.

Usually, he didn’t want to hear about promotions and brothers and parts of the woman’s history but with Cate somehow he did.

He thought about her hand on his neck, her fingers about to meet the thick scar and, no, he didn’t want her knowing, would far prefer Cate thinking that he was shallow than to open up and confide in her…

That wasn’t what this trip was about, he told himself as he lay there. Caught between awake and asleep, Juan was unsure if the kiss with Cate had been a dream, unsure even if his time in Australia was a mere figment of his imagination. He even wondered if Cate’s words to Reece would disappear the second he awoke and he would find out it was all just another dream—because he was back there again, back in his head, trapped in his mind with a body that refused to obey even the simplest command.

In Juan’s dreams he ran, his feet pounding the warm pavement as he dragged in the humid air.

In dreams, he threaded his beloved motorbike through lush Argentinian hills and made love to every single woman who had ever flirted with him—and there were many, perhaps Cate was one?

In his dreams, Juan jumped off bridges and felt the sting of icy-cold water as he plunged in.

In his dreams, he skied down mountains and did all the things he had never had time to do—Juan’s focus had always been Martina, family and work.

He could hear the nurses, doing the two a.m. rounds, approaching the four-bedded ward, and Juan tried to haul himself out of the memory, tried to get back to kissing Cate, except he couldn’t dictate his dreams and he couldn’t erase his memories, and as the REM stage deepened a very natural reflex occurred.

‘Hey, Juan.’

‘I apologise.’ Juan didn’t need to look at the mirrors placed over his bed to know the sheet was tenting and that he was erect; instead, he stared at the ceiling as Graciela tried to catch his eye. ‘Juan, it’s natural,’ Graciela said. They spoke in Spanish, Graciela, as always, practical—she was nearing retirement and had worked on the spinal unit for years. Graciela was more than used to young men finding themselves paralysed, used to the strange sight of a beautiful, fit body that might never move independently again and the humiliation a new spinal-cord injury patient faced regularly.

Yes, Graciela was kind and practical, it just didn’t help now as she and Manuel rolled him onto his side. Juan was burning with shame in a bed in the Buenos Aires hospital he worked at.

Had once worked at.

Juan didn’t want that part of his life over. Yes, he played upbeat for Martina and his family, insisted if there was a little improvement he could lecture and teach; but tonight the future, one where he could function independently, let alone hold another’s life in his hands, seemed an impossibly long way off.

‘Juan…’ Manuel tried to engage with Juan. ‘We still don’t know the extent of your injury. You have spinal swelling and until…’

Juan closed his eyes. He didn’t want hope tonight, he felt guilty that compared to his roommates there was a thin hope that his paralysis was not permanent; he just wanted to close his eyes and go back to his dreams but he knew he would not get back to sleep, knew that this would be another long night.

‘You need a haircut,’ Graciela commented as she washed his face. ‘Do you want me to arrange one for you?’

‘No.’ Juan made a weak joke. He had been on his way to get his thick black hair trimmed when the accident had happened—it grew fast and he had it trimmed every couple of weeks. Always he had prided himself on looking immaculate, dressing in exquisitely cut suits and rich silk ties. Tonight those days seemed forever gone. ‘I’m not risking that again.’

‘How’s Martina?’ Graciela tried to engage Juan as they started the hourly exercise regime, moving his limbs and feet and hands. Martina had been here until eleven and Juan had pretended to be asleep the last two times the nursing staff had come around. It was important to know what was happening in the patients’ lives as they adjusted to their injuries. ‘Is she still worrying about moving the wedding date?’

There was a long stretch of silence before Juan finally answered, ‘We broke up.’

‘I’m sorry, Juan.’ Graciela looked over at Manuel, who took over the conversation.

‘What happened?’ Manuel asked. He wasn’t being nosey—the mental health of their patients was a priority, and he chatted as he moved Juan’s index finger and thumb together and apart, over and over—as they did every hour—and then moved to rotating his wrist. Both simple exercises might mean in the future Juan could hold a cup, or do up a button, or hold a pen.

‘We just…’ Juan did not want to discuss it, still could not take it in, could not comprehend how every aspect of his life had now changed. ‘It was mutual.’

‘Okay.’ Graciela checked his obs and shared another look with Manuel. ‘I’ll see you a bit later, Juan. Hope-fully you’ll be asleep next time I come around and I won’t disturb you.’

Asleep or not, the exercises went on through the night.

Graciela moved on to the next bed, leaving Manuel to hopefully get Juan to open up a bit. Since his admission Juan had remained upbeat, insisted he was dealing with it, refusing to open up to anyone, and Graciela was worried about him, especially with the news of the break-up. Relationships often ended here; patients pushed loved ones away, or sometimes it was the other way around and the able-bodied partner simply could not cope with a world that had rapidly altered.

‘Hey, Eduard.’ She smiled down at the young man, who gave her a small grimace back and moved his eyes towards Juan’s bed. ‘Is he okay?’

‘He’ll get there.’

For the first time Juan didn’t think he would.

There was one thing more humiliating than a massive erection in full view of the nurses. It was starting to cry and not being able to excuse yourself, not being able to go to another room and close a door, to thump a wall, not even being able to wipe your own snot and tears.

‘Let it out, Juan,’ Manuel said as he covered Juan with a sheet and saw his patient’s face screw up and tears fill Juan’s grey eyes.

‘I…’ He didn’t want to let it out, he had held it all in and he wanted to keep doing so. There was young Eduard in the next bed. He’d only been here for three days and Juan didn’t want to scare him—Juan had been trying to cheer him up today.

He just couldn’t hold it in any more.

The sob that came out was primal, from a place he had never been.

‘Good man,’ Manuel said.

Juan lay there sobbing as Manuel wiped his eyes and blew his nose. He was in hell and humiliated and scared and everything he’d tried not to be.

‘Good man,’ Manuel said, over and over.

He’d been a good man, Juan thought. He’d done everything right, everything had been in place—an amazing career, a loving fiancée. He had been a good man.

‘No more…’ Juan said, incoherent almost as he sobbed.

But there was more and tonight he let it out.

Graciela stood there and wiped Eduard’s tears as they glimpsed for the first time Juan’s desolation and rage, and she swallowed a couple of tears of her own.

All Juan’s roommates cried quietly along with him. Two had been there before, giving in to the grief and the fear in the still of the night, and Eduard soon would. There was no privacy in their worlds right now and all the men had heard the painful exchange between Juan and Martina.

All were with Juan as finally he gave in and wept.

No one was with him, though, when, eighteen months later, Juan woke up in a foreign country, feeling the desolation all over again.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘HOW HAS YOUR week been?’

Cate stopped for a brief chat with her neighbour as both women headed for work. Bridgette and her husband James were both in the police. It was nice being neighbours with fellow shift workers and, over the summer, Bridgette and Cate had spent several afternoons lying in one or the other’s garden and putting the world to rights.

‘It’s been good.’ Cate smiled as she lied. It had been a long week spent trying not to think about Juan and trying not to worry about work. ‘Have you had your interview?’ Bridgette asked.

‘Not yet, but I’m stepping in as Acting Manager on Monday.’

‘So you’re off the weekend?’

‘No, I’m working it, but if I do get the job I’ll have every weekend off.’

‘No more shift work!’ Bridgette exclaimed, and Cate gave a smile and a nod, then they chatted a bit about the unrelenting weather but soon enough Bridgette asked how Cate was doing since the break-up and if she’d met anyone else.

‘Not really.’

‘What does that mean?’ Bridgette asked. She was far too perceptive sometimes!

‘There is someone I like,’ Cate admitted. ‘Or rather there was. He’s from overseas and he’s heading off to New Zealand soon so, really, there’s no point.’

‘No point in what?’

‘Starting anything.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Bridgette gave her a very queer look. ‘He sounds perfect for having a bit of fun with after Paul! You’re not looking for forever, are you?’

‘No, but…’

‘Let you hair down and live a little while you’re single.’ Bridgette held up her hand and flashed her wedding ring. ‘While you still can…’ She winked. ‘I’ll come around over the weekend and we’ll have a proper chat.’

‘Do,’ Cate said. ‘I’d like that.’

Cate drove to work and tried to ignore the small bubble of disquiet that kept making itself known.

It had been the same towards the end of her relationship with Paul—everything had been going well, they’d got on, she’d cared about him; but when Paul had suggested moving in, they had been together for two years after all, Cate hadn’t wanted that. When he’d suggested that they look for somewhere together, Cate had really had to sit and examine her feelings.

Cate turned on the radio instead—she didn’t want to examine them now.

The staff car park was busy and Cate had to park well away from Emergency, which usually wouldn’t matter but the temperature had barely dropped overnight and Cate couldn’t wait to be in the air-conditioned hospital. The sky was a curious pink, even though the weather warned of no change or storms. Then, a week to the day after they’d shared that sizzling kiss, Cate saw him.

Only a madman would go running in this heat, Cate thought. An incredibly fit madman, though.

Juan was at the entrance to the hospital when she got there, trying to catch his breath before heading inside. He was bent over, his hands on his thighs, as he dragged in the sultry air. He was dressed in grey shorts and a top and they were drenched, as could be expected, given the considerable distance to the hospital from his apartment and that he’d run with a backpack on.

‘Don’t you listen to the warnings on the news?’ Cate’s voice was dry, deliberately refusing to reveal any awkwardness about their kiss last week. ‘During a heat wave you’re supposed to avoid exertion.’

‘That is for the young and elderly,’ he said, somewhat breathlessly bringing himself to stand upright, which was a bit disappointing for Cate as she’d been enjoying the opportunity of shamelessly looking at his legs. Long and muscular, pale-limbed with black hair and with a weight around one ankle. Briefly she wondered why, but only briefly—because as he looked down and spoke to her there was another image now to add to the Juan file she had stored away in her head. Juan smiled and added, ‘And I am neither young nor elderly.’

‘I think it was a given that no one would be crazy enough to go running in weather like this,’ Cate said, trying not to blush, because now he was standing upright he looked amazing—he wasn’t just unshaven, he practically had a beard. Harry wasn’t going to be pleased, though Cate didn’t mind in the least. He looked like a huge sexy god, Cate thought, and then corrected herself, because that was probably a wrong thing to think. He looked like a huge sexy…man.

It would just have to do.

‘If a bit of heat and humidity stopped us, then no one in Argentina would ever run,’ Juan said as they started walking into the hospital.

‘So you’re working here today?’

‘They caved again.’ Juan grinned. ‘I got a call late last night to ask if I could come in for the morning shift.’

‘You’ve been coming here for nearly three months now,’ Cate pointed out. ‘If you’d just signed the contract in the first place—’

‘I’ve liked working all over Melbourne,’ Juan interrupted, still slightly breathless. ‘I’ve met loads of great people. It has been good not being confined.’

‘Confined?’ Cate frowned. ‘It’s not a prison.’

‘Restricted,’ Juan said. ‘I don’t know the word I am looking for in English,’ he admitted.

‘Doesn’t it drive you crazy, though?’ Cate asked. ‘Never knowing where you’ll be from day to day.’

‘I love it,’ Juan answered. ‘It’s the best thing I could have done.’

Cate could think of nothing worse and she told him so. ‘I worked for an agency when I was a student. I loathed not knowing where I’d end up, where they’d send me, who I’d be working with…’ She gave a small shrug. ‘Maybe I’m boring like that.’

‘You’re never boring.’ He turned and gave her a smile, just enough of a smile to let her know that he was thinking about the other night. ‘Are you going to Christine’s leaving do?’

Cate nodded. ‘Are you?’

‘She invited me.’

He headed into the changing rooms and Cate went to the staff kitchen and filled a glass with ice from the machine and then poured a cup of black tea with sugar over it and took her drink into the staffroom, where it was lovely and cool.

‘Morning…’ Cate smiled at two familiar faces—Charlotte and Adam were sitting dressed in their pyjamas and watching television. ‘Have you two had breakfast?’

‘No, we haven’t eaten anything.’ Charlotte was the louder of the two. ‘Daddy said he’d get us something from the canteen before he took us to childcare.’

‘Do you want me to get you something now?’ Cate offered, and when they both nodded Cate went back to the kitchen and made them some cereal and juice.

‘Christine’s not doing the jump any more,’ Kelly said as Cate came back in and served up breakfast for the twins, ‘so there’s a space if you’ve changed your mind.’

‘Not a chance,’ Cate said. Some of the staff had come up with the idea of a skydive to raise some much-needed funds to refurbish the interview rooms—but even if the funds were needed, even if it was for a good cause, Cate could think of nothing worse than jumping out of a plane, let alone paying for it. She much preferred to keep her feet on solid ground.

In came Juan, with that potent post-shower scent that had Cate’s toes curling in her shoes. He was wearing scrubs, yet he still had on his signature boots and he was simply like no other.

‘We’ve got hospital razors, Juan,’ Kelly teased. ‘I can get you a couple if you can’t afford them.’

‘Ah, but then you’d have to suture me after,’ Juan said. ‘They are lethal.’ He looked at the twins, who had paused in their breakfasts and were staring up at this very large, very commanding man. ‘Hello,’ he said and then made Adam laugh. ‘Are you the new consultants that are starting?’

‘No,’ Cate said, ‘the interviews only started this week. These are Harry’s twins, Charlotte and Adam.’

‘Daddy got called in,’ Charlotte said. ‘For a sick boy.’

‘Well, that’s no good,’ Juan said, and then looked at Cate’s glass. ‘Did you make me one?’

‘No.’ For a moment she thought he was going to take a sip of her drink.

For a moment he thought about it!

‘Hey, Juan.’ Kelly wasn’t going to miss an opportunity for a little extra Juan time. ‘A space has opened up on the charity dive next Sunday. You like all that sort of stuff.’

‘I do.’ He went and read the notice. ‘I’ll still be here. I fly out on the Tuesday…’

‘We’ll all go out afterwards,’ Kelly said. ‘It could be your leaving do.’

‘Another one,’ Cate said, and he turned at the slightly tart note to her voice but just smiled.

‘Are you doing the jump?’ Juan asked her.

‘Absolutely not.’

‘You should.’

‘Why?’ Cate challenged, but Juan gave no answer and went to get a pen from his pocket but, as usual, he didn’t have one and he asked Cate if he could borrow hers.

‘No,’ Cate said. ‘You already owe me three.’

‘Just to put my name down on the list. I’ll give it straight back.’

She ended up relenting and handed him her pen.