Читать книгу Snowstorm Confessions - Rachel Lee - Страница 10

Chapter 3

Bri spent the night on the couch in the living room in case Luke needed something. He was able to tend to his most personal needs, so she didn’t have to manhandle him down the hall to the bathroom, a relief. She had no doubt she could have done it, but it wouldn’t have been fun for either of them.

By morning, though, a thought had occurred to her. She needed to look after the man for at least a week, maybe longer, depending on how soon he could travel. His cast went from his ankle to above his knee, which meant that wasn’t likely to be soon.

With a sigh, she picked up the phone and called Jack. “I need a safety bar in my bathroom,” she told him. “Can you do that?”

“Sure,” came the prompt response. “When do you want it?”

“As soon as possible. Thanks, Jack. You’re a good guy.”

“Always glad to help,” he responded cheerfully.

And he was a cheerful person. He worked at the hardware store, but picked up side jobs as a handyman. She’d lost count of the times he’d helped her out with something.

She tried making some very soft scrambled eggs for Luke. The man needed something for subsistence besides broth and milk shakes.

He was wide awake when she carried the bowl and spoon into the living room. “Good morning,” she said.

“Morning.” He looked at the bowl.

“Scrambled eggs,” she explained. “No chewing. How’s that jaw feel?”

“Better.”

She supposed that was debatable. It didn’t look any less swollen, but maybe it was on the inside. “Time for your pain pill, too. Water?”

“Please.”

“You want to try to feed yourself?”

“Yeah.”

So she raised the head of his bed, pulled the table over, adjusting its height, and left him to it while she went to get him a glass of water with a straw.

When she came back, he’d already put away half the eggs. “Good,” he said, with what appeared to be an attempt at a smile.

“More where those came from. Just let me know.”

He managed to get the pill down, too. “Coffee?” he asked hopefully.

She hesitated. “I’ll have to cool it down. I don’t know how lacerated the inside of your cheek is, either. It might really sting.”

“Coffee,” he repeated. “Please.”

Puppy-dog eyes, she thought. When had Luke learned to make puppy-dog eyes? Damn, he was tugging her heart strings.

At least she had plastic straws. “Iced coffee,” she suggested. “You have to drink through a straw right now.” She wondered if he had any idea of how much egg he had on his face right now. Probably not. She grabbed a napkin and wiped it gently away.

“Won’t always be like this,” he said.

She wondered if that was a promise or a threat. “No, you’re getting better. I’ll get that coffee.”

She made the iced coffee in a plastic cup, then froze. He must need a sponge bath by now. Oh, wasn’t that going to be fun. But it needed to be done before she changed his sheets.

She didn’t want to do it. She could do it for any patient without a second thought, but this was different. This was a body she had once loved and made love with. Awkward. Awful. She closed her eyes a moment, resisting the idea but knowing it was important for his comfort, if not for his health. He was beginning to get a little ripe.

Oh, hell. She carried the coffee back to him and found he’d nearly finished the eggs. She had to wipe his face again.

He enjoyed the coffee, though, and it didn’t seem to cause him too much discomfort. Of course the pill was probably starting to kick in. Maybe it would make him safely woozy for a sponge bath.

“More eggs?” she asked.

“Not now. Later. Thanks.”

She sat sipping her own mug of coffee, waiting for him to start looking a bit drowsy. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be happening.

“How are you feeling?”

“Been through a cement mixer.”

“I imagine it feels that way. Listen, I need to change your bedding, and your gown. I want to do it when the pain pill is working its strongest.”

“’Kay.”

“But...” She bit her lower lip. “I need to give you a sponge bath, too. Will you cooperate?”

Damn him, she thought she saw a wicked twinkle in those gray eyes. “Never thought you’d ask.”

“Damn you, Luke, don’t be a pain. I’ve got to move you around. Clean sheets. Clean body, clean gown. No bedsores on my watch. That’s the beginning and end of it.”

“Yes, Nurse.” But that twinkle seemed to remain. If the rest of his face had been more mobile, the expression probably would have been all over it.

“Luke...”

“I’ll...be good.”

As if he could do much else, she thought irritably. Why was she even bothered by this? Right now he was a helpless slab of meat with a devilish look in his eyes. She’d seen that from eighty-year-olds...although they tried to have the male nurses take care of these things.

“I could call a man to do it.”

“Said I’d be good.” He set the coffee on the table. “What am I gonna do?”

Exactly, she thought. He was utterly helpless, which gave her a momentary flash of pleasure. Luke had never been helpless. Never. Her mind suddenly served up a smorgasbord of the ways she could tease him with a sponge bath, drive him out of his mind the way he had so often driven her. Turn him into a helpless sex slave. The image amused her so much that she was able to laugh at herself, even as heat blossomed between her legs.

The knock on the door surprised her. She wasn’t expecting anyone at this hour, but there was Jack, safety bar and tool kit in hand.

“That was quick,” she said.

He shrugged and gave her a shy smile. “I heard about the guy. Didn’t figure it could wait long.”

“I really appreciate this,” she assured him as she let him in.

“Why do you have to take care of him?” Jack asked as he headed down the hallway to the bathroom. She wasn’t surprised he knew where it was since he’d replaced the tile for her last year.

“Do you see a convalescent home within a few hundred miles? He can’t be moved yet.”

“So how’d you get to be it?”

Good question, she thought. “Because I’m a sucker?”

He astonished her by turning sharply, looking angry. “Don’t say things like that about yourself. You’re a nice lady.”

His vehemence surprised her so much that she nearly stepped back. Jack usually seemed so calm and pleasant. But then his face smoothed and he shifted the bar so he could enter the bathroom.

“I used to know Luke,” she said finally. “It seemed like the right thing to do for a friend.”

“Like I said, you’re a nice lady. Where you want this bar? By the commode or in the shower?”

“He won’t be taking showers while he’s here. Just by the commode. To help him move in and out of the wheelchair.”

“He’s pretty messed up?”

“Seriously messed up.”

“Too bad. This won’t take long.”

She was glad, actually glad, to head back to Luke. Something about Jack disturbed her this morning. He didn’t seem quite like himself. But then everything in her life felt strange right now, so why should Jack be any different?

Luke had finished the iced coffee and asked for more when she got back. At the moment she was glad just to be busy. Everything was off-kilter, and ordinary tasks suddenly felt like a lifeline to sanity.

Luke was back in her life, however temporarily; Jack seemed weird; and God knew she didn’t feel at all like herself.

Jack finished up in about twenty minutes. He had her test the bar to her own satisfaction, leaning her full weight on it.

“Great job,” she told him.

He smiled shyly. “It’s easy.”

“Maybe for you.”

That made him beam. “You got a vacuum? I’ll get up the dust.”

“I can take care of it. The store must need you back.” And she needed him out of here, though she wasn’t sure why. Ordinarily she didn’t mind having Jack around when he was doing a job for her, but today...today something was different.

He looked surprised but finished packing his tools and headed out. She’d get a bill from the store at the end of the month, so he didn’t have to even pause for payment. She was relieved to close the door behind him.

“What was that?” Luke asked.

“My handyman, Jack. I had him put a safety bar in the bathroom for you.”

“Sorry. Sorry for imposing. Causing trouble.”

“It’s not your fault.” She could say that much with truth. And at least he seemed to be growing steadily more coherent. Maybe there wouldn’t be any long-term effects from the concussion. God, she hoped not. Mild concussions had been known to mess people up for years or longer.

Then a thought occurred to her. “Luke? Have you worked with Mike Hanson for long?”

“Five, six years. Why?”

“I just wondered.” Because he’d been the only other person out there when Luke fell, and Luke had initially claimed he’d been pushed. “Do you remember any more about what happened?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s common enough, to forget what happened right before.”

“I hear. I guess I stirred up a mess of trouble, saying I was pushed. Wonder where that came from.”

“The concussion,” she said with more surety than she felt. “People can say and do a lot of crazy things.”

“How do you know what’s real?”

She managed a smile for him. “By what doesn’t change.”

“Not true,” he said, his face drooping. “Life changes. All the time.”

“You’re right. It does.” And sometimes that was its saddest part.

* * *

Changing the sheets and sponging him down didn’t prove that difficult physically, but for her it was sheer hell psychologically. She lowered his leg so she could roll him onto his side and sponge his back. She didn’t care if the sheets got damp, but beneath them was a foam pad, what they sometimes called an egg crate, to help prevent pressure sores. That definitely couldn’t get wet.

So she pulled out a rubber sheet, and once she had carefully rolled him to the side, she tucked it beneath him to catch any water. It was then she saw all the bruises that covered his back. She couldn’t withhold a sound of distress.

“What’s wrong?” He was starting to sound pretty groggy from the pain pill.

“Your back is a mess. You must have rolled when you tumbled. Just bruises. Let me know if I hurt you.”

“You already did that,” he muttered.

She had to resist an urge to snap at him, especially since she was sure he wouldn’t have said it at all if he weren’t full of drugs and concussed. Luke had never been a man to show weakness of any kind. Initially she had admired that in him. Now she wondered.

Wringing out a cloth, she began to wash him from his neck down, baring only small parts of his body to prevent him from growing chilled.

“Feels good,” he mumbled.

“As long as the water stays warm,” she answered. Maybe she should have gotten a heating pad to put beneath the bowl. Or she could just hurry.

She had to be gentle, not wanting to hurt him, but she hoped the rubbing of the terry cloth would stimulate circulation. And instead of going fast, she lingered. It had been years since she had run her hands over this muscled back, but time hadn’t diminished the impact anyway. He was a beautifully built man, sculpted by years of physical labor, without a spare ounce of flesh on him. She knew she wasn’t maintaining proper clinical detachment, but she figured that was a lost cause under the circumstances.

“Feels good,” he mumbled again, drowsily.

To her, too. She worked her way down slowly, relearning every line of him, lingering more than she should have. Her breath quickened, and she felt stupid for it. This man hadn’t wanted her, and anyway, even if he had he was out of action.

When she reached his buttocks, she felt him quiver, and a similar quiver ran through her. It did not help to realize that that hadn’t died with their marriage. Biting her lip, she forced herself to a quicker pace, then covered him with a blanket so he wouldn’t get chilled.

“You feeling all right?” she asked as she rounded the bed.

“Great.”

“I need to get more warm water, then I’m going to turn you again.”

He didn’t answer and she hoped he had dozed off again. This was getting too intimate when it should have been purely clinical. Damn him.

When she returned, she rolled him gently onto his back. One groan escaped him, but only one. “It’s okay,” he mumbled.

She started at his shoulders and began to work her way down bit by bit. When she reached his hips and was about to move the blanket, his good hand reached out with a speed that surprised her.

“No. Not there.”

“I’m a nurse,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as weak as she suddenly felt.

“No,” he repeated.

She couldn’t help feeling relieved. Honestly, she didn’t know if she could manage to handle his privates with anything approaching proper detachment. But she remembered them, remembered all too well. He was perfectly built in every respect, at least as far as she was concerned. And for a few seconds as she stood there, she realized she wanted nothing more than to touch him intimately again, to caress him and draw groans from his lips. She needed to get a grip. Quickly.

Apparently even in his present state, memory was bedeviling him as much as it was her. He’d never been shy about his body, and if it had been anyone else proposing to wash him, he probably wouldn’t have objected.

Maybe more than one thing wasn’t completely dead yet.

After that, though, things went faster. She made up one side of the bed with a fresh sheet, rolled him over and finished the job while he lay on the freshly made side. Man, it had been a while since she had needed to do this. Usually the LPNs handled it.

But at last he was clean and in a fresh gown. “Bathroom?” she asked.

“Nah, just give me that bottle thing.”

“Call if you need help.” She practically fled. Time to regroup, she told herself as she waited in the kitchen. Time to build up the time and distance he’d erased so effectively. Time to remind herself of all her good reasons for not reacting to him. Time to figure out how she was going to handle this until he could be transported.

Because somehow she had to. Sometimes the hardest part of life was just dealing. The curveballs seemed to keep coming.

* * *

Trent stopped by every evening for a quick look at Luke and three days later pronounced himself very satisfied. “The recovery is really going well,” he said. “I don’t see any new swelling since you left the hospital, Luke, and there’s no sign of infection. At this rate we’ll take you back for X-rays in a few days, and maybe we can get you into a walking cast.”

“That would be great,” Luke said. “I hate being stuck in bed.”

“Well, the good news is, I’m going to allow you to spend some time in the wheelchair now with your leg up. It’ll give you some mobility.”

“Maybe even the front porch,” Bri said. “We’re starting to get warmer at last.”

“I’d continue elevating his leg overnight, but unless you detect some new swelling, he can sit up as much as he wants.” He turned to Luke. “Just don’t tire yourself too much. You’ve still got a lot of mending to do, including inside your head. So don’t push it.”

Bri listened to this, wondering if Luke would follow instructions or just push himself to the brink over and over. She was surprised he hadn’t grown so frustrated with his confinement that he swamped her in it. In fact, when all was said and done, he’d been amazingly cooperative so far.

“What about bending my leg again?” Luke asked.

“The break above your knee was minor. Depending on how the X-rays look we may be able to give you back the use of your knee. No promises, but if we can, we will.”

“God,” Luke said after Trent left, “that would be a relief.”

“What?”

“Bending my leg again. Right now it just juts out there and even getting to the bathroom is a major hassle. Nothing moves right.”

She turned to look at him at last and found him making a funny face. Despite her best intention to remain distant, she had to laugh.

“That’s better,” he said, surprising her. “The freeze around here has been amazing. It’s a wonder I don’t have frostbite.”

She couldn’t protest that he was wrong. She had been pretty much hiding out in the kitchen, appearing only when she had to act the role of nurse. Maybe it wasn’t exactly friendly of her, but she didn’t need to be friendly. Those days were gone and she didn’t want to risk letting them back in. She’d already discovered that three years hadn’t banished old yearnings and old pains, at least not entirely. Spending a lot of time with him would be folly.

So she pretended she was at work, looking in on him as often as necessary, seeing to his essential needs, but definitely not sitting around and entertaining him.

Now his pain meds had been reduced, and she doubted he was going to continue to be such a compliant patient. In fact, she was sure his boredom would start becoming a problem. Maybe having Jan take over for her would be salvation, much as she didn’t want Jan to have free run of her house. She liked the woman well enough, but at some level had never entirely trusted her. Among other things, she was an unkind gossip. Not the sort of person you wanted to share anything intimate with.

On the other hand... Well, on the other hand it turned out she didn’t have to worry about Jan. She needed to worry about herself. The nursing supervisor called to say that she was putting Bri on family leave for the next week.

“But why, Mary?”

“Think about it,” Mary said frankly. “I hear he’s your ex. Do you really want some of the nurses here running over there to cover for you and hunting for juicy details?”

Bri knew exactly who Mary meant. Much as she wanted to escape Luke for a few hours and get back on her normal routine, she couldn’t deny Mary’s point.

“I know this must be hard on you,” Mary said. “But it could be harder, if you think about it. So tough it out, Bri. Maybe once the guy’s brain is less addled he’ll figure out a way to get himself to a convalescent facility.”

After she hung up the phone, she sat at the table wondering how everything had just spun her life out of control and what she was going to do about it. Transport was expensive, and even though Luke was well paid, hiring an ambulance to drive him a couple hundred miles... Well, nobody short of a billionaire would want to do that. The cost of getting a facility to come pick him up would probably be nearly as much.

Nothing like being in the boonies, she thought for the umpteenth time since the accident. Most people had family around here who could do this part, but Luke had no one but her.

Which left her the reluctant nurse. Dang.

In that instant a whole lot seemed to crash down on her. Feelings she’d been deliberately avoiding since Luke had come back into her life. Feelings about him being right there and spending most of her time trying to ignore him. Feelings out of the distant past.

And again and again the memory of how many times he’d said he’d lost her. Did he really feel that way?

She wanted to pack a bag and just run. A tsunami seemed to be headed right at her, and she wondered if she would survive it. Old wounds reopening. Old arguments rebuilding. New problems. Changes.

How long could she keep a lid on it before something snapped?

“Bri?”

The sound of him calling her name pierced her heart. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want that ever again.

* * *

Jack hadn’t seen much of Bri since the accident, except when she ran out for a short time to get more milk shakes or things from the grocery. It made him uneasy. He needed to know what was going on.

He’d thought giving the Luke guy that shove would have settled the matter one way or another. Either he’d die or be transported to a hospital far away.

Instead he’d landed right in Bri’s house. Did she care that much for him still?

He had to know, so he’d crawled into the attic again to listen. So far he hadn’t seen or heard a thing to make him nervous. Bri spent an awful lot of time in her kitchen or bedroom. She hardly talked to Luke.

That was good.

But hearing Luke call for her as though she was some kind of servant really ticked him off. He supposed he should be nice about it, considering the guy was stuck in bed, but he wasn’t feeling very nice about it.

Every minute that Luke spent in her house struck him as a ticking time bomb. What if they made up?

He wouldn’t be able to stand it.