George nodded. “Deacon’s such a great guy. He gives so much to this hospital. Doesn’t seem right for him to have to deal with that.”
I stood up. “I’ll be sure to pass on your good wishes to Deacon, in case you don’t see him tomorrow. Now, you get some rest. I have a feeling that little boy of yours is going to be so happy to see you tomorrow that he’s going to keep you running!”
Out in the hall again, I stopped at the nurses’ station to chat briefly with Cindy, a nurse on duty tonight.
“Are you heading home?” she inquired.
“On my way.” I nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow night during shift change, I guess.”
“Like two ships that pass in the night,” Cindy agreed. “By the way, have you heard from Jenny? How’s she settling in up there in Virginia?”
I leaned against the desk, resting my elbows on the counter. “She’s loving it. Both of them are adjusting to the new setting and to living together full time, of course, but she sounded blissfully happy. And she’s landed a job at a local cancer center that specializes in holistic care.” I didn’t tell Cindy that Jenny had also begun applying to naturopathic medical schools. That was her news to share.
“Great.” Cindy smiled. “I met the new NP the other day. Jonah? He seems like a good guy. And it’s probably not a bad idea to bring some masculine energy into this place. Poor Deacon likely feels a little outnumbered by all of us.”
“Poor Deacon, surrounded by amazing, competent, and talented women,” I mocked. “He’s got no complaints.”
“Yeah, I guess not. I’ve been trying to go easy on him lately, anyway, since I know he’s dealing with . . .” Cindy’s eyes wandered to the room down the hall. “That situation.”
It had been a week since Ted Girard had been admitted to our wing. All during that time, Deacon had walked around with figurative thunderclouds on his brow. He was short with all of us, almost silent except when he absolutely had to communicate, and obviously not happy about grappling with his father.
I hadn’t had a moment alone with him since the day that Mira had interrupted us to let Deacon know about his dad. I had been about to say something that day, about to respond to his simple, steady reassurance . . . but I wasn’t sure what it was I’d intended to say. Maybe the interruption had been for the best. Maybe jumping into something new with Deacon right now wasn’t a great idea.
My lady bits were at odds with me over this decision, which meant that for the last six nights, I’d been tormented by seductive dreams featuring Dr. Foxy himself. More nights than I cared to admit, I awoke with a relentless pulsing between my legs as my body restlessly ached for the man who could satisfy all of my needs. No number of lectures over the importance of being my own woman and not succumbing to the lure of a man seemed to make a difference. I guessed the heart wanted what the heart wanted, and the pussy felt the same way.
Cindy spoke again, rousing me from my preoccupation. “He was ringing for us earlier, complaining about everything. Not enough pillows. The oxygen dries his throat. He hated his food. He wants to see Deacon, but I refused to call him back in. The man’s been killing himself here, and he finally went home early today.”
“Yeah, I was glad to see that. Mira forced that issue when he was practically sleeping on his feet during afternoon rounds.” I’d been relieved when our head nurse had gotten stern with Deacon, threatening to call his grandmother if he didn’t go home right that minute. “Maybe I’ll stop in and check on Mr. Girard right now before I leave.”
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do. Have a good night, Cindy.”
I tucked my tablet under my arm and slipped into the darkened room. A blue light glowed from the television set that was on mute. And in the bed, propped up with pillows, his mouth covered with an oxygen mask, was Ted Girard.
I hadn’t met Deacon’s father yet. I had a sneaking suspicion that Deacon was trying to shield me from interaction with him, not wanting me to talk to the man who was terrorizing much of the floor . . . the same man who’d broken Anna and Jimmy’s hearts, run out on his dying wife and abandoned his son as a small child. In my mind, I’d painted him as an ugly villain, but tonight, that bad guy was just an old man in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines.
I cleared my throat as I stepped closer to him. “Good evening, Mr. Girard. I’m Dr. Carson. How are you doing tonight?”
Watery eyes slid my way, and I felt a shiver of distaste as those eyes traveled down the length of my body, taking on a gleam. He reached up a trembling hand and moved aside the oxygen mask.
“Much better, now that they sent in the tit squad.”
I’d worked with unpleasant patients before. A doctor or nurse couldn’t be in medicine long and not encounter people who were nasty, rude, borderline abusive or worse. But there was some added level of discomfort in knowing this was the man who’d given Deacon half his DNA. I couldn’t begin to imagine how Ted had come from two wonderful people like Anna and Jimmy.
“The nurse told me that you’ve been having some trouble tonight.” I clicked on my table and ran my finger over the screen, bringing up Ted’s chart. All of the complaints Cindy had mentioned were listed there. “I thought maybe I could help.”
He wheezed a humorless chuckle. “Ya got some magic there, missy? You can take this damn cancer from my lungs?”
“No, of course, I can’t do that.” I crossed my arms over my chest, if only to shield my breasts from the man’s lewd stare. “But my job is to make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be while we treat your cancer. Maybe there’s something we can do with your diet, or if the bed isn’t comfortable, I can talk to maintenance about a different mattress or adding an inflatable component.” I glanced at the screen again. “I see you’re also upset about a dry mouth because of the oxygen. I’d like to order you some ginger candies as well as a humidifier for the room. Both of those can help.”
“Didn’t you say you’re a doctor?” He frowned at me. “Then why is it your job to make me comfortable? Shouldn’t you be looking for a cure for me?”
I drew in a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. “I’m a different sort of doctor—a naturopath. So while yes, I do work on treatments and medications and therapies, I also focus on making sure we treat the whole person, not just the symptoms or underlying cause of your disease.”
“So you’re a fake doctor. Went to one of them phony schools, did you? Surprised my boy has you working here.” One of his eyebrows shot up. “Or maybe . . . not so surprised. Boy’s got my blood, come to think of it. I bet he’s getting a lot of use out of you.”
I was fully aware that Ted was trying to make me angry, to force me to run away in a huff or better, in tears. He was rude and he was cruel, but he’d never come up against Emma Carson yet.
