Mercy by Julie Garwood Page A

staff calls me Mike. It’s short for Michelle.”
    “Michelle’s a pretty name.”
    “Thank you.”
    It was all coming back to Theo now. He was at a party, and there was this beautiful woman in a slinky black evening gown. She was breathtaking. He remembered that. She had killer blue eyes and Willie Nelson was with her. He was singing. No, that couldn’t be right. Obviously, his head hadn’t quite cleared yet.
    “You were talking to me . . . after the surgery,” he said.
    “In recovery. Yes,” she agreed. “But you were doing most of the talking.” She was smiling again.
    “Yeah? What did I say?”
    “Mostly gibberish,” she said.
    “You took my gun. Where is it?”
    “Locked up in the hospital safe with your other personal possessions. Dr. Cooper will make sure you get them back before you leave. He’s going to be taking over your care. You’ll meet him in a little while when he makes his rounds.”
    “Why?”
    “Why what, Mr. Buchanan?”
    “Theo,” he corrected. “My name’s Theo.”
    “Yes, I know. Your brother told me you go by that nickname.”
    “Which brother?”
    “How many do you have?”
    “Five,” he answered. “And two sisters. So who’d you talk to?”
    “Nick,” she answered. “You gave me his phone number and asked me to call him. He was concerned and made me promise to call him again after the surgery. As soon as you were wheeled into recovery, I called and assured him that you were going to be fine. He wanted to come,” she added, “but he sounded relieved when I told him it wasn’t necessary.”
    Theo nodded. “Nick hates flying,” he explained. “When did I give you his phone number? I don’t remember.”
    “When you were in pre-op. You were very talkative, once we gave you something to get rid of the pain, and by the way, the answer’s no.
    I won’t marry you.”
    He smiled, sure she was joking. “I don’t remember being in pre-op. I remember the pain, though. It hurt like a son of a . . .”
    “I’m sure it did.”
    “You did the surgery, didn’t you? I didn’t imagine that?”
    “Yes, I did the surgery.”
    She was backing out of the room. He didn’t want her to leave just yet. He wanted to find out more about her. Hell, he wished he were more adept at small talk.
    “Wait.”
    She stopped. “Yes?”
    “Water . . . could I have a glass of water?”
    She went to the bedside table, poured a tiny bit of water into a glass, and handed it to him. “Just a sip,” she said. “If you get nauseated and throw up, you’ll mess up my stitches.”
    “Okay,” he said. He took a drink and handed the glass back to her. “You don’t look old enough to be a surgeon.” Stupid, he thought, but it was the best he could come up with at the moment.
    “I hear that a lot.”
    “You look like you should be in college.” That statement, he decided, was worse than stupid.
    She couldn’t resist. “High school, actually. They let me operate for extra credit.”
    “Dr. Renard? May I interrupt?” A male aide was standing in the hallway, shifting a large cardboard box under his arm.
    “Yes, Bobby?”
    “Dr. Cooper filled this box with medical supplies from his office for your clinic,” the young man said. “What do you want me to do with it? Dr. Cooper left it at the nurses’ station, but they wanted it moved. It was in the way.”
    “Would you mind taking it down to my locker?”
    “It’s too big, Dr. Renard. It won’t fit. It isn’t heavy, though. I could carry it out to your car.”
    “My father has the car,” she said. She glanced around, then looked at Theo. “Would you mind if Bobby left my box here? My father will carry it down to the car for me just as soon as he arrives.”
    “I don’t mind,” Theo said.
    “I won’t be seeing you again. I’m going home today, but don’t worry. You’re in good hands. Dr. Cooper’s chief of surgery here at Brethren, and he’ll take good care of you.”
    “Where’s home?”
    “In the swamp.”
    “Are