kept a running banter going, filling him in on the usual amusing and bizarre occurrences in the ER.
Lily was quiet She’d brought him a small bouquet of late-blooming winter roses, their thorny stems tucked into an old-fashioned jelly jar, the type his grandma had used for making jam. She looked around and then set the bouquet carefully on the windowsill, where he could see it by simply turning his head to the side.
She obviously wasn’t working; her raincoat was slung over her arm and she was wearing a long, slender denim skirt that skimmed her hips and emphasized her narrow waist and long legs. With it, she had on a simple close-fitting white T-shirt and a short denim vest. Her silvery blond hair molded her well-shaped skull and glistened with raindrops, and her golden skin glowed.
Greg looked at her and acknowledged that she was truly beautiful; he’d have to be dead not to notice that. It utterly enraged and humiliated him, having this glorious-looking creature witness his helplessness, seeing him unshaven, stripped of his power, his body broken.
The last thing he’d ever dreamed of was becoming an object of pity to her, but he imagined he could detect that very reaction in Lily’s clear green gaze as her eyes traveled slowly over the cast and the traction device and came to rest on his battered face.
“The roses are nice, Lily. Thanks.”
“I tried to get daffodils, but I couldn’t find any.”
She held his gaze for a long moment. Since the accident, he seemed capable of only two sensory reactions, anger and pain, and both fought for supremacy as she looked deep into his eyes.
This time the pain won, but it was more emotional than physical. Greg had always taken for granted his good looks, his raw masculine physical appeal. Now those things were gone, and he couldn’t even envision a future beyond the next dose of Tylenol.
Who and what he was had centered around his sense of himself as a competent, confident, sexual man. So, who was he now?
“I have to go, Greg.” Lily reached out and touched his fingers. “I just came up for a moment to tell you that I’m sending you good thoughts,” she said quietly. “We all are.”
“Thanks.” The single word was offhand, devoid of feeling. If he allowed the facade to crack even the tiniest bit, he was afraid he’d roar like a crazed animal, throw himself out of the bed, smash what was left of his body on the hard tile floor.
To his everlasting relief, the others left with Lily. When they were gone, he struggled to control the trembling that had begun in his gut and spread like a virus through his entire body.
He acknowledged for the first time that what he was feeling was raw fear, that seeing Lily had brought home to him as nothing else could the full and awful effects of what had happened to him.
Life as he’d known it was over, at least for the foreseeable future. Until now, he’d been too obsessed with the physical pain to give any thought to the future.
“Dr. Brulotte? It’s time for your pain medication.”
The syringe slid into his thigh, and he swallowed the pills that the nurse placed on his tongue.
One hundred and one. One hundred and two. One hundred and three. He counted, staring at the roses on the windowsill until at last the drug stole slowly through his body, quieted his thoughts and brought a kind of peace.
Lily chatted brightly with Mary and Elizabeth and the interns on the elevator, agreeing with them that Dr. Brulotte had really wrecked himself, poor guy. He looked terrible.
They hurried off to the ER, and she slipped into an employee washroom and locked herself in a cubicle. Her knees were trembling and her chest hurt with the effort she’d made to hold back the overwhelming emotions that had flooded over her the moment she’d walked into Greg’s room.
She sank down on the toilet and bent forward, hugging her knees. Uncontrollable tears poured down her cheeks, and she sobbed and gulped and choked.
What on
Lily was quiet She’d brought him a small bouquet of late-blooming winter roses, their thorny stems tucked into an old-fashioned jelly jar, the type his grandma had used for making jam. She looked around and then set the bouquet carefully on the windowsill, where he could see it by simply turning his head to the side.
She obviously wasn’t working; her raincoat was slung over her arm and she was wearing a long, slender denim skirt that skimmed her hips and emphasized her narrow waist and long legs. With it, she had on a simple close-fitting white T-shirt and a short denim vest. Her silvery blond hair molded her well-shaped skull and glistened with raindrops, and her golden skin glowed.
Greg looked at her and acknowledged that she was truly beautiful; he’d have to be dead not to notice that. It utterly enraged and humiliated him, having this glorious-looking creature witness his helplessness, seeing him unshaven, stripped of his power, his body broken.
The last thing he’d ever dreamed of was becoming an object of pity to her, but he imagined he could detect that very reaction in Lily’s clear green gaze as her eyes traveled slowly over the cast and the traction device and came to rest on his battered face.
“The roses are nice, Lily. Thanks.”
“I tried to get daffodils, but I couldn’t find any.”
She held his gaze for a long moment. Since the accident, he seemed capable of only two sensory reactions, anger and pain, and both fought for supremacy as she looked deep into his eyes.
This time the pain won, but it was more emotional than physical. Greg had always taken for granted his good looks, his raw masculine physical appeal. Now those things were gone, and he couldn’t even envision a future beyond the next dose of Tylenol.
Who and what he was had centered around his sense of himself as a competent, confident, sexual man. So, who was he now?
“I have to go, Greg.” Lily reached out and touched his fingers. “I just came up for a moment to tell you that I’m sending you good thoughts,” she said quietly. “We all are.”
“Thanks.” The single word was offhand, devoid of feeling. If he allowed the facade to crack even the tiniest bit, he was afraid he’d roar like a crazed animal, throw himself out of the bed, smash what was left of his body on the hard tile floor.
To his everlasting relief, the others left with Lily. When they were gone, he struggled to control the trembling that had begun in his gut and spread like a virus through his entire body.
He acknowledged for the first time that what he was feeling was raw fear, that seeing Lily had brought home to him as nothing else could the full and awful effects of what had happened to him.
Life as he’d known it was over, at least for the foreseeable future. Until now, he’d been too obsessed with the physical pain to give any thought to the future.
“Dr. Brulotte? It’s time for your pain medication.”
The syringe slid into his thigh, and he swallowed the pills that the nurse placed on his tongue.
One hundred and one. One hundred and two. One hundred and three. He counted, staring at the roses on the windowsill until at last the drug stole slowly through his body, quieted his thoughts and brought a kind of peace.
Lily chatted brightly with Mary and Elizabeth and the interns on the elevator, agreeing with them that Dr. Brulotte had really wrecked himself, poor guy. He looked terrible.
They hurried off to the ER, and she slipped into an employee washroom and locked herself in a cubicle. Her knees were trembling and her chest hurt with the effort she’d made to hold back the overwhelming emotions that had flooded over her the moment she’d walked into Greg’s room.
She sank down on the toilet and bent forward, hugging her knees. Uncontrollable tears poured down her cheeks, and she sobbed and gulped and choked.
What on
Similar Books
