“Will they help me walk again?”
This time Violet looked at Peter since she didn’t know Celeste’s prognosis.
“You’re going to walk again, Celeste,” he said with determined certainty. “And they’re going to be watching you do it. It might take a little while, but you’re going to have lots of help.”
“You?” she asked, her eyes drooping again.
“Me and other nurses and doctors and therapists.” Peter checked his watch. “Violet and I are going to go now and let you sleep.”
“Don’t go,” she whispered.
“I’ll be back,” Peter promised. “I have to take Violet back to her car, but then I’ll come in and sit with you for a while. Okay?”
“’Kay,” Celeste murmured as her eyelids closed.
Violet couldn’t help but touch the little girl’s cheek. There was a longing in her heart to do something for Celeste, and she knew she’d be back to visit.
Outside the cubicle, Peter explained, “The medication makes her sleepy. That’s best under the circumstances.”
“She is a heartbreaker,” Violet admitted, her voice catching. As she walked down the hall, she asked, “Are you really coming back?”
“I always do what I say I’m going to do.”
The assurance in Peter’s voice made her believe him. She didn’t know when she’d last met a man like him. He was kind…as well as downright sexy.
“I’d like to come back and visit her.”
A smile played on his lips. “I was counting on it.”
“You think I have too much free time on my hands?”
“Don’t you?”
“I don’t know. It’s been nice not to have to adhere to a rigid schedule.”
Stopping when they reached the elevator, he pressed the button. “You’re young to have the reputation you’ve gotten. You’ve been working plenty hard.”
The interior of the elevator seemed intimately confining when they stepped inside. As Peter glanced at her, their gazes locked and the current between them could have lit up the whole hospital for at least a week. She didn’t know why she was having this reaction to him and that frightened her as much as excited her. Fortunately, their ride was brief. The lobby was empty.
As they approached the double glass doors, Peter remarked, “The party at the hotel should still be in full swing.”
“I hope Ryan makes some excuse to go home and get a good night’s sleep.”
Peter nodded. “Putting up a good front takes a lot of energy. He might decide to stay until everybody leaves just to prove to Lily nothing’s wrong with him.”
“We’ll know tomorrow.”
After they came out of the hospital, Violet saw a bench to the side of the portico and asked, “Can we sit here a few minutes? I want you to tell me Celeste’s prognosis.”
They could have had this discussion in Peter’s SUV, but something about that was unsettling. Here in the open air, Violet was less distracted by his cologne…by his sheer male presence.
If he thought her request odd, he didn’t show it.
When she sat on the black, wrought-iron bench, a gust of wind reminded her that fall would be slipping into winter soon. She shivered.
Peter must have noticed because he shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket. Before she could assimilate the almost intimate gesture, he slipped his coat around her and she caught the lapels. Now she could feel the tangible evidence of his body heat. Now his scent almost made her giddy.
Finally seated beside her, his knee grazing hers, he explained, “Her prognosis is up in the air, not because of her injury as much as because of her circumstances. I’m afraid she won’t try to get better. She needs support and affection and people who really care about her.”
“Is the social worker trying to find her another family?”
“Trying is the operative word. It’s hard enough to place older children, let alone children who require the care Celeste will need. Her foster father not only drove drunk, but through an investigation Mrs. Gunthry discovered the couple left her alone a lot, too. Celeste has a great-aunt, but she’s in her sixties, arthritic and apparently wants nothing to do with caring for a child. Especially since Celeste didn’t inherit anything but a few pieces of secondhand furniture.”
A great-aunt who had only financial concerns in mind would never be a good parent. Caring about Celeste already, Violet insisted, “Give me Celeste’s best-case scenario.”
The wind blew Violet’s hair across her cheek and she brushed it away. When Peter’s gaze followed the course of her hand, his eyes seemed to turn a darker, more mysterious green. How she wished she knew what he was thinking.
“In the best-case scenario, I’ll fuse her spine. It’s fractured at the L4-5 level. The cord is bruised, not severed. She’ll spend ten days to two weeks in the hospital, then be transferred to a rehab facility. There she can get the therapy she needs to walk again. That could take anywhere from two to five months—some of that in outpatient therapy. You know nothing about this is absolute. That’s why her state of mind is so important.”
His shoulder was touching Violet’s now. As she looked up at him, she murmured, “I’ll spend some time with her, for as long as I’m here.”
“Your attention and support will help.”
“Actually, I think she’ll be helping me as much as I’ll be helping her. Medicine has become too rote for me—diagnosing conditions I can slow but not cure, making judgments, suggesting decisions that can have dire consequences as well as successful ones.”
“You were trained to make judgments and suggest decisions.”
“Yes, I was, wasn’t I? But apparently I wasn’t trained well enough to remove myself from my patients. I’ve got to learn how to do that.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her gaze collided with his and she saw such certainty there.
“I’m not removed from Celeste. You saw that. Should I be?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so. If I were removed, I wouldn’t be as invested in the outcome.”
“I don’t know, Peter,” she said with a sigh.
“Maybe you’ll figure it out while you’re in Red Rock.”
“Maybe, or maybe I’ll have to return to my practice and figure it out there.”
When Peter studied her again, she felt warm in spite of the night chill. She felt so excited, her breath caught. Like a teenager on her first date, Violet was uncertain where the evening would lead. All of it could lead to trouble, she knew. After all, she didn’t indulge in recreational affairs. She never let hormones overrule her head. She didn’t look for relationships because she’d found out at a young age what loving the wrong man could do to her life, to her heart, to her future.
Remembering the girl she’d once been didn’t happen often. She didn’t want the picture to play in her mind now, either. With a quick shrug, she escaped the warmth of Peter’s jacket, gathered it and offered it to him.
“Thanks for letting me use this. I think I’d better get back.”
His focus narrowed slightly but he didn’t try to convince her to stay. Standing, he accepted the jacket and tossed it over his arm. Without another word, they walked to his car.
After he drove to the hotel in silence,