A Family-Style Christmas and Yuletide Homecoming Page 3

  And how much time had she wasted, Caitlin thought, considering the three years of dating Charles.

  “I thought Charles and I were headed in that direction, but I guessed wrong.” Caitlin shook her head, winding the scarf around her hands. “Can you believe I was that dumb?” She clenched her fists, shaking her head.

  “Well, at the risk of sounding like a cliché, I’m sure you’ll get over it. I mean Charles is a nice guy, he’s good-looking, he’s ambitious, but...” Danielle lifted her hands as if in surrender. “I just don’t sense a real spark between you two.”

  Caitlin said nothing at that, knowing that, as usual, her friend had put her finger directly on Caitlin’s own malaise concerning the relationship.

  Before she could formulate an answer, the recovery room called to say they were sending up the accident victim.

  Caitlin glanced at the clock. There was no avoiding it, she had to go home sooner or later. “Well, I’m history,” she said, winding the scarf around her shoulders and picking up her purse.

  “I should make sure the room is ready for our new admission,” Danielle conceded, getting up. “Will I see you before you fly down to visit your sister Evelyn and her new baby?”

  Caitlin nodded, wondering how she’d fill the ten days before she left for Portland. “Yeah. I’ll need something to do besides sit and watch my mother eagerly knitting baby booties. Rachel’s expecting, too!”

  Danielle touched her arm as if sensing Caitlin’s yearning for her own family. “You want me to call a cab?”

  “I’ll get one myself. Thanks.” Caitlin smiled at her friend. Danielle gave her a quick hug and then left.

  Caitlin sighed lightly, and turned to go. But when the elevator door swooshed open, a stretcher was wheeled into the ward. The motorcyclist.

  Caitlin stopped beside the stretcher, taking another look at the patient lying there. A fine net held his hair back, exposing his strong features. A dressing covered the gash on his forehead.

  The patient moaned once, his eyes fluttered open and homed in on hers. He blinked, tried to lift his head and then closed his eyes again.

  But once again his hand reached out toward her and once again, Caitlin took a step closer and took it in hers. He squeezed it lightly. “Angel,” he whispered, the word coming out in a sigh. “Don’t go.”

  And Caitlin knew she was staying.

  * * *

  Someone was talking to him. The words came slowly, echoing down a long, dark corridor. Simon tried to catch them but he couldn’t move, couldn’t focus on what the voice said.

  More words and sounds coming closer, sharper. Then, finally, “He’s coming around.” The words pierced the haze of darkness holding him captive.

  “Can you hear me?” the voice continued.

  Why was it so much work to talk, to do something as simple as lift his eyelids?

  He struggled and as awareness dawned so did the pain. It pressed down on him, heavy, overwhelming, taking over his slowly awakening senses.

  He moaned, the sound forced out of him by the extent of an agony he couldn’t pinpoint. Where was he?

  He tried to focus, to comprehend. It was so much work. A face swam into his vision and he strained to see it better. He blinked hard, willing his eyes to function.

  Finally the blurred edges coalesced. He recognized his angel of mercy, her soft green eyes like a refreshing drink.

  He called out as he closed his eyes, fighting a fresh wave of pain. Cool fingers slipped through his. With another effort, he clung to her as if to a lifeline.

  More movement as he felt himself being lifted, then a surge of pain.

  He dug his head back into the pillow as he rode it out. It slowly eased, but he kept his eyes shut as he breathed through the last bit.

  “Where are you?” he panted. “Angel.”

  “I’m here.” She touched his face lightly. “Just try to rest now,” she said, fussing over the blanket, tucking it around his chest. She straightened, pulled up a chair and sat down beside him.

  He felt himself drifting off again. He didn’t want to go, didn’t like the feeling but couldn’t stop it.

  Unaware of how much time had passed, he felt himself drifting, heard voices far away.

  Then increasing agony pulled him up into awareness. He fought it, preferring the blessed relief of the darkness, the not knowing to the perception of deep aching overlaid with sharp pain.

  “Hi, there.” A soft voice beside him made him turn his head toward the gentle sound. “How are you doing?”

  He forced his eyes open and there she was again. The face he’d been seeing since this all started. Every time he opened his eyes, she was there.

  A name drifted out of another part of his memory, attaching itself to her serene beauty. Caitlin.

  “It hurts,” was all he could say when he wanted to say so much more. Who are you? Why are you always here?

  “Do you want something for the pain?” she asked, leaning forward. Her hand was a light touch on his forehead, a connection with reality.

  “Please,” he gasped. Anything to escape this agony, he thought at the same time resenting his vulnerability. He closed his eyes, searching for some bit of memory to explain what had happened to him. The only thing he could remember was seeing her again and again.

  Then he felt that same gentling hand at the back of his neck. “Here,” she said quietly. “Open your mouth.” He obeyed and she placed something on his tongue. He opened his eyes again, seeking hers as she held a cup of tepid water to his lips. He swallowed, thankful for the moisture, then lay back, watching as she set the cup on the table and sat down again.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, leaning forward, taking his hand in hers.

  “Why do you want to know?” he mumbled, pain pressing his eyes closed.

  “So I know who I’m praying for,” she said quietly, squeezing his hand lightly.

  “Waste of time,” he said.

  “Please. I want to know who you are.”

  Light from the hallway, muted by the curtain around him shone on her delicate features. What was she doing here and why did she want to know his name?

  The questions grew fuzzy, his need to find answers receding as the pill took effect.

  She squeezed his hand again. “Don’t drift off on me without telling me your name.”

  He sensed she wasn’t going to stop. He didn’t like the frustration that edged her voice and decided, reluctantly, to grant her request. “My name is Simon.”

  That made her smile and he was glad.

  “Thanks for being here,” he said, squeezing her hand back. Then blessed unconsciousness brought him ease.

  Again, he was unaware of the passage of time, aware only that each time he came up from the darkness, she was there, offering what comfort she could.

  Once he woke to find her sleeping, her head pillowed on the bed, her face buried in her arms. The room was dark. He felt unaccountably bereft, alone. He didn’t want to disturb her, but felt an urgent need to connect, to touch.

  Her hair lay in tangled disarray close to his hand. He reached out and touched it, marveling at its softness, wondering again who she was and why she had stayed with him.

  But his mind didn’t have much room for wondering. It was taken up by a throbbing ache in his legs, arms, chest.

  “Caitlin,” he whispered, then he drifted off again.

  Chapter Three

  Caitlin didn’t want to think what she was doing here. One o’clock in the morning was no time to figure out where else to go.

  A moan from the bed made her turn. She’d only meant to catch a few winks when she laid her head on the bed, but had, instead, slept a couple of hours. She got up, the floor cool under her feet.

  “Caitlin.” Simon’s vo
ice was a harsh whisper. “My throat’s sore.”

  It still gave her a start to hear him speak her name. She turned to see him looking at her, his eyes glinting in the refracted light coming from outside. For a moment she held his gaze, wondering again why she stayed, why he seemed to want her with him.

  With a shake of her head she dismissed the thoughts. Walking to his side, she poured him some water, lifted his head and let him take a drink. He swallowed with difficulty and then laid his head back. “Your throat is sore from a tube that gets put down your throat during surgery,” she explained. “Your chest will be sore, too.”

  “What happened to me?”

  Caitlin relived the shock of the accident. She had been so close to it all.

  “Caitlin?” he asked again. “Tell me.”

  “You were in a motorbike accident. You’ve sustained some very serious injuries.”

  “How serious?” he asked, closing his eyes and drawing in a breath.

  “You’ve a fractured femur, a bruised pelvis and bruises that I’m sure you’re beginning to feel.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “I didn’t see all of it. A car hit you, and your bike went down on top of you.” She took a slow, deep breath, seeing the accident again. She’d explained what happened to other patients many times before, but never had the picture of the events been so indelibly printed in her mind. Never had she seen a cocky smile replaced by a grimace of pain, a man full of self-confidence in one moment, thrown like a rag doll across the pavement in the next. She wondered if she would ever forget it.

  “You helped me.”

  Caitlin laughed a short laugh. “I did very little.”

  “You stopped.” He turned his head, his hand reaching out to her. Caitlin wanted to pretend she didn’t see it. Wanted to break the tenuous connection they had developed by her being by his side. One look at his eyes narrowed with pain, the lines along his full mouth and she couldn’t stop herself from placing her hand in his. “You’re here now,” he said, his voice hoarse as he tightly grasped her hand. “Why?”

  Because I don’t know where else to go right now? Because, unlike my ex-boyfriend, you needed me?

  But as she looked at him, she knew it was more.

  Caitlin kept her replies to herself and only squeezed his hand a little harder. “Doesn’t matter. Just try to rest.”

  He took a slow breath, his eyes drifting shut. “Stay with me a little longer, Caitlin?”

  “I’ll be here,” she said softly. “Now, don’t talk anymore.”

  He lifted one corner of his mouth. A careful smile. Then she felt his fingers loosen their grip on hers but not enough to let go.

  With a sigh, she pulled the chair up closer and tried to get some more sleep.

  * * *

  Caitlin woke a few hours later, blinking in the brightness of the room. The curtains behind her only muted the morning light pouring in over her shoulder.

  Her one arm was asleep, her hand still anchored in Simon’s. Carefully, she pulled it free. His fingers fluttered a moment as if seeking hers, and Caitlin thought he would waken.

  But he slept on, his breathing heavy.

  Caitlin stretched her hand in front of her, wincing at the harsh prickling. She yawned and pulled a face at the stale taste in her mouth.

  She got up, grabbing the arm of the chair as her one leg gave way under her. She had slept in an awkward position, her arms on the bed.

  Sometime in the night she had kicked off her shoes. She saw one beside the chair, the other had been pushed under the bed.

  Her stomach was empty, a grim reminder of her missed supper last night. Her neck was stiff, her shoulders sore and her mouth felt fuzzy.

  Last night she had been angry and her impetuous decision to come here wasn’t made with a rational mind and now she was paying for it.

  She bit back a sigh as the events of last night came back with the cold clarity that accompanies the sharp light of morning.

  Charles and she had broken up, and this time she knew it was for good. She knew she didn’t want to go back to the half limbo that had been their relationship the past while.

  Caitlin glanced at Simon. His face was drawn, his hair was caked with blood at the temple. The sight of him reaching out to her, pleading for her to stay had struck the very spot Charles had wounded with his lack of caring. This man, this total stranger, made her feel needed, and after last night it was what drew her toward him.

  But now, it was morning. The night was over and she had to get home and...

  Caitlin bit her lip, thinking of telling her parents and her sister. Her family who all thought the world of Charles and who wanted so badly for Charles and Caitlin to come to a stronger commitment. Her family to whom finding someone and marrying was the natural progression of events. Her older sister was married and had just had her third child. Her younger sister was married and expecting her first. Even her unreliable brother was married, living off in the east who knew where.

  But he’s married, Caitlin thought wryly. And I’m not.

  She glanced again at the man on the bed. He’d had a restless night and Danielle was thankful for Caitlin’s presence. They had two more admissions and were running off their feet.

  After her brief nap she’d given him his pain medication, adjusted his leg, keeping it elevated to avoid blood clots. She tried to talk to him when he was lucid, tried to ask him questions about his relatives, his family. They would need to be notified. But he’d said nothing.

  There had to be someone who would need to know about him, she figured. Parents, brother, sister. Maybe a girlfriend?

  “What do you care?” Caitlin admonished herself, reaching down and pulling her other shoe out from under the bed. “You won’t be back here.” She slipped her shoes on, thinking of her much anticipated vacation.

  “And what are you going to do about that?” she asked herself, stretching once again.

  She glanced at her watch, groaning at the time. Six o’clock in the morning. Her parents would still be sleeping, and she badly wanted to change.

  “Hi there.”

  Caitlin turned at the sound of the sleep-roughened voice. Simon was watching her, and she wondered how long he had been awake, listening to her babble to herself.

  “Hi, yourself,” she said, crossing her arms across her stomach as she walked to the side of the bed. He looked pale, his eyes still dull with pain. “How are you doing?”

  “Horrible. I feel like I’ve been hit by a train.” He tried to lick his lips. “My mouth feels like I’ve been on an all-nighter.”

  “In a way, you have,” Caitlin replied. “Want some ice water?”

  “Sounds wonderful,” his voice drifted off on the last syllable and Caitlin guessed he was in pain again.

  “Do you want some painkillers with that?”

  “I don’t know,” he whispered, his teeth clenched. “I hate the way they make me feel.”

  “I’m sure it can’t be worse than the way that plate in your leg makes you feel?”

  “What?” Simon blinked, tried to raise his head and then fell back with a grimace. “What are you talking about?”

  “Drink first,” she ordered, raising his head and placing the cup against his lips.

  He took a long drink and then lay back. “Now tell me,” he demanded.

  “Do you remember what I told you about the accident?”

  He nodded.

  “They had to fix the fracture with a metal plate and screws. The surgeon will be doing his rounds later on and he can tell you exactly what he did to your leg.”

  “Where’s my bike?”

  “That I can’t tell you. We’ll be in contact with the police later on. They can let us know where it is and how badly it was damaged.”

 
“What about the other guy?”

  “The one who hit you?”

  Simon only nodded, his eyes shut again.

  “It was hit-and-run. Like I said, I saw it, but didn’t get a clear view of the license plate. I’ll have to tell the police what I know, and I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”

  Simon opened his eyes, zeroing in on her. “Why did you stay with me all night?”

  Caitlin pulled her hand back, feeling the impact of his direct gaze. She still wasn’t able to analyze why she had done it. “I saw the accident. I came with you in the ambulance. I stayed because the night staff was running off their feet....”

  “Thanks,” he whispered, his perfectly shaped mouth curving up in a smile. He closed his eyes again and was gone.

  Caitlin drew in a shaky breath, trying to dispel the odd feeling his smile gave her. A feeling much different from any that Charles’s smiles had created.

  Rebound, she reminded herself with disgust. That and the ego-building feeling of being wanted by a man she knew had an earthy appeal most women would notice.

  * * *

  “So you can’t leave earlier for Evelyn’s place, what else are you going to do?” Rachel bent over and picked up a rock, angling her hand. With a flick of her wrist she tossed it out, and it skipped across the quiet water of Piper’s Lagoon.

  “I don’t know. I sure don’t feel like hanging around Nanaimo for ten days, but I don’t have the energy to make other plans.” Caitlin shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her jean jacket, her feet scuffing through the shale and rock of the beach, retracing steps they had taken so often in their youth.

  Caitlin needed to get out and away from her mother’s sympathetic glances, her sorrowing looks. Her mother really liked Charles and had so hoped he would someday be her son-in-law.

  Well, those hopes were dashed as surely as the shells she was even now crunching under her feet.