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The old man lifted his hand and pushed himself upward. He patted one shirt pocket, then the other, and extracted a card with his name and phone number neatly printed on it. “You ever want to talk, son, soldier to soldier or man to man, just give me a call.”
“Thank you, sir.” Levi rose and shook his hand again before resuming his seat. He watched J.J. walk toward the nurse with a noticeable limp, then returned to impatiently awaiting his turn.
He could see two nurses engaged in a heated discussion carried out in whispers. They both kept looking at the guy in the corner who smelled like rank garbage. It wasn’t hard to imagine they were arguing over which one of them had to deal with him.
Finally, the older of the two marched out of the office and soon returned with two orderlies who had on rubber gloves and big aprons covering their clothes.
“Corporal Daniels, before the doctor can see you, you’ll need to clean up. These men will show you where you can take a shower.”
The man, who had to be homeless, started to shake his head.
Levi was convinced he saw bugs fall out of Corporal Daniels’ hair onto the floor beneath his chair.
“We insist,” one of the orderlies said, clasping the man’s thin arm and gently pulling him to his feet. The moment they had him out the door, the elderly nurse wiped down the chair where he’d been sitting with what Levi had to assume was disinfectant, then did the same for the floor.
Relieved to see the corporal would get the help he obviously needed, Levi mused over how much worse his situation could be. He had family who cared about him. His mind was mostly functioning, even if nightmares invaded it more than they should. He had plenty of good food to eat, a nice place to live, and money to buy what he needed. Guilt assailed him for not appreciating what he had instead of focusing so much on what had been taken from him.
Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed hearing a nurse call his name. He stood and turned to stare at one of the prettiest girls he’d seen in a long, long while—maybe ever.
Rich brown hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense bun at the back of her head, with her nurse’s cap perched just so. Her white uniform, stockings, and sensible shoes looked crisp and fresh, and her tone sounded melodic as she called his name a second time.
His gaze collided with her warm hazel eyes, then drifted down to observe her flawless, milky skin, berry-hued lips, rosy cheeks, and stubborn chin above a long, delicate neck.
She was definitely the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. No question about it.
“I’m Levi,” he said in a voice suddenly grown raspy, then cleared his throat as she motioned for him to follow her.
Levi didn’t want her attending to him. Didn’t want this sweet, lovely girl to see his burns or worse—his deformed hand. What would she think of him once she saw all that?
Where was the crotchety old nurse who’d been there the last few times he’d come in for appointments? He could handle her because he didn’t care a whit what she thought of him.
But this girl? This young woman who was tall and graceful and lovely?
He didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes or a look of disgust she would surely be unable to hide when she examined his hand.
“How does this day find you, Sergeant Gibson?” she asked in that melodic voice that he found both soothing and invigorating.
“Well enough,” Levi said, moving into an examination room and taking a seat on the exam table as she indicated. “Call me, Levi, please? I feel like I left Sergeant Gibson behind … over there.”
She nodded as though she understood what over there meant and wouldn’t ask questions. As she opened his chart and read through notes, he noticed her nametag.
RN G. Marshall.
He wondered what the G stood for. Glorious? Gorgeous? He knew RN meant she’d gone to school and was a Registered Nurse.
“All right, Levi. May I help you remove your shirt? The doctor will want to examine your arm, and I need to take your blood pressure.”
Levi knew the routine. He used his right hand to yank open the snaps on his chambray shirt and slip it off his arm without exposing his hand since it still held his cowboy hat.
Before he could protest, though, the nurse snagged his hat from him, hung it on the hooks by the door, divested him of his shirt and hung it next to his hat, then wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his right arm as though she hadn’t noticed his misshapen hand or his scars.
Levi felt angry, embarrassed, humiliated, and emasculated all at the same time. It wasn’t a good combination. Volatile might be a better word to describe it.
He grumbled under his breath as she stuck the stethoscope in her ears and pumped the cuff until it felt like a tourniquet around his arm, which made him mumble all the more about the medical staff being too young, incompetent, and impertinent to know what they were doing.
She hiked one well-shaped, expressive eyebrow upward as she made notes in his chart, but that was the only indication she’d paid any mind to his mutterings. Covertly, he watched as she walked over to a drawer, extracted a thermometer, and shook it.
He held his lips tightly pressed together, unwilling to let her place it in his mouth.
