The Wish List (2 page)

He didn’t want a damn therapist or a second chance. All he wanted was to be left alone.

The doorbell rang, two long peals, shredding the silence. Damn. It had to be her. No one else but Anderson was foolish enough to come around anymore. And Dan would be at the hospital now.

Nathan rose and went to the front door, staring down at the slippery doorknob. He made no attempt to touch it.

“It’s open,” he said, standing to one side. Of course it was always open. He couldn’t manage the nightmarish lock mechanism, and wouldn’t have even if he could. What was the point in keeping out the bogeyman when he was on speaking terms with his own personal demons?

But then the door opened, and all thought of locks and doorknobs and demons drained away. A woman stood there in the tunnel of sunlight that streamed through the open door. She had long, honey brown curls. Curls that the wind had tossed about her face. Nathan noticed that the top of her head barely cleared his shoulders. He also noticed that while she was smiling, her blue-green eyes were wary.

The wariness was something, a tool Nathan could use. Dan Anderson thought he had Nathan under his thumb, but he’d bet that Dan hadn’t witnessed those worried blue-green eyes firsthand. If this was the best Southeastern Illinois Memorial had to offer, then he was home free. She’d be running back to Dan inside of five minutes.

A thread of a smile made its way to Nathan’s face. At least that was the way it felt. He knew it wasn’t real. Smiles weren’t a part of his life anymore.

But she was still looking up at him.

“Dr. Murphy, hello. I’m Faith Reynolds. Dr. Anderson told me that he’d spoken to you.”

“You might say that.” Nathan didn’t step aside or invite her farther into the room. He would have liked to cross his arms, something that might have suggested menace, but that only would have called attention to the fact that his fingers no longer folded around his biceps, no longer bent at all. Instead he leaned on the narrow edge of the open door, one arm hidden. With some difficulty, he managed to shove the stiff thumb of the other hand through the back belt loop of his jeans. He leaned forward into Faith Reynolds’s face.

“You and Dan must have gotten your signals mixed, Ms. Reynolds. I didn’t request a therapist.”

By Nathan’s calculations, she should have taken a step backward right around now. He was taller than her, bigger than her, and he was in her space. He was crowding her.

Instead, she turned the wattage up on her smile. He could almost feel the heat on his face. That’s how lit up she looked. But in the small
V
of delicate peach-tinted skin at her throat, Nathan saw that her dancing pulse didn’t match her “I’m so happy to meet you” smile.

“I know you didn’t ask for a therapist, Dr. Murphy. Dr. Anderson made the situation very clear. You don’t want a therapist. But I’m afraid you’ve got one.”

She lifted one small shoulder in a tiny shrug. “By the way, I
am
sorry I’m late, but I made a few wrong turns. You really live pretty far from civilization, don’t you?”

Ignoring the fact that he was still a breath away from her face, she slipped out from beneath his glare and moved into the room.

Nathan turned as she passed him. He still hadn’t closed the door. He didn’t intend to. At least not until this petite and unwelcome woman had gone back to where she came from.

He watched in amazement as she moved to the curtains, the ones he never opened. Pulling on the drawstring, she drew them wide, letting in more light than he’d seen in a long time.

Nathan felt the heat rising within him. He didn’t bother trying to tamp it down.

“I thought I made myself clear, lady,” he said, straightening to his full six feet. “I want you gone from here. Now. No matter what Dan told you, this is my body, my life, my house. I didn’t invite you, and I sure as hell don’t have to have you.”

Her face was turned slightly toward the window, though she heard him well enough. He could see it in the way her lips trembled slightly. And he noticed her lips because errant strands of her hair had caught on them, tawny wisps that she brushed away with her fingers, like a child dusting chocolate bits from a candy-smeared mouth. She shoved her hair away from her face, and the movement called attention to the small, pale earlobe that had been hidden before. He suddenly wished she was bigger, meaner looking, with thin lips and cold eyes. He wished she’d put all that honey-toned hair in a bun, hide it under a hat, chop it off. He wished she’d get out of here. Fast.

“It’s so green here,” she said wistfully, gazing out at the trees surrounding his house, totally ignoring his request that she leave. “My son would love this place. He’s just four, and there’s so much room to run. It’s almost wild. Is that what attracted you to it?”

The mention of her son cut through Nathan, snapping whatever human feelings and concerns he’d had, stealing her protection. So what if she was small and fragile? She was all that he didn’t want to deal with. A therapist, someone who would try to help him when the last thing he wanted was to be helped. A woman, one who was delicate, soft and pretty, with a voice like silk on naked flesh. A reminder of what he’d lost in more ways than one. A woman with a small child.

“I live here because I want to be left alone, and no one comes out this far to bother me, Ms. Reynolds. Understand?”

He didn’t wait for her answer, just nodded toward the outside when she turned to look at him fully. “Here’s the door,” he said. “I’ll tell Dan that you showed up. We wouldn’t want any black marks on that silvery reputation you’ve made for yourself, would we? Don’t worry, I won’t tell him anything but the truth. You came, I wasn’t buying, and I sent you packing. End of story.”

She stood there, taking deep breaths. Her chin had risen a solid notch or two, and she hadn’t taken one single step from her place by the window.

“The door,” he reminded her softly. The edge in his voice was real. Other than Dan, Nathan didn’t talk to anyone much anymore, and it was entirely by choice. He didn’t want anyone around. He especially didn’t want to stand around chatting about how green the grass was. Or anything else, for that matter.

He leaned against the door, opening it wider, just as if that little bit of a body wouldn’t fit through the already yawning opening. Pulling his arm around, he gestured toward her car out in the drive.

Her eyes lit instantly on his hand. In his anger he’d forgotten to hide the long, unyielding fingers. Now they hung in midair, open to her for several seconds before he stuffed the hand into his armpit. “You can leave anytime now. Like I said, here’s the door. You do understand the words
I don’t want you here
, don’t you?”

“Of course, Dr. Murphy, and I do know where the door is,” she said softly. “And that you’d like to close it in my face. But I also know that it opens easily, that you don’t lock it. And even if you did—” she smiled suddenly, smugly, her eyes widening “—even if you did lock the door, I have a key.” She fished one out of the back pocket of her work whites.

Nathan stood there, breathing deeply. If he’d been any hotter, flames would have been streaming from his nostrils. He couldn’t believe that Dan had given this stranger, this woman, a key to his house.

“Don’t bother raising your voice,” she said. “I’m used to dealing with difficult patients, Dr. Murphy. It’s part of my job. And don’t worry. Dr. Anderson warned me about you. You can’t do anything to blacken my reputation. Only I can. And I could only do that if I let you run me off. But I’m not going to.”

As if to prove her point, she plopped down on the dusty couch, stifling a sneeze. Nodding toward the other end, she motioned for him to sit down. “Now, if you’ve finished arguing, Dr. Murphy, we’ve got things to talk about.”

Amazed at her stubbornness, unsure how to get her to leave short of calling the police or...hurting her, Nathan swore beneath his breath. Turning on his heel, he left the room. If he couldn’t get rid of her, he’d ignore her. Sooner or later, she’d get the hint.

But the soft slide of rubber-soled shoes sounded behind him. Turning quickly, he caught her nose square in the middle of his chest. He reached out to catch her, then froze, taking one long stride back.

“You’d better have a damn good reason for tailing me, short stuff. What does it take for you to get the message? A phone call from the president? Can’t you see that I want to be left alone?”

She was biting her lip, breathing deeply as if she’d just run a race. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair was tumbled from her collision with him.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” she said suddenly. “
You
want to be left alone, and
I’m
absolutely prepared to get out of your life forever.”

He waited. It was clear by the smug smile on her gorgeous little lips that she was preparing to spring the trap.

“And when will that lucky day be?” he asked.

“When you’re back in shape, one hundred percent. When you no longer feel you have to hide your hands behind your back.”

Slowly, with an eerie smile that he didn’t mean, Nathan drew both his hands out and held them up before her face.

She stared at them, giving each a clinical appraisal, then shook her head slowly. “Bringing them out for shock effect or just to get rid of me doesn’t cut it, Murphy. You’ll get me out of your life once and for all, forever, when they actually do the job they’re meant to do. I’ll do the supreme vanishing act when you’re back in the operating arena. That’s the deal. You give me flack, cause me grief, slow down your progress and you’ll have me just that much longer. You try to keep me out, I’ll sic Dr. Anderson and the whole ever-loving hospital administration on you. You’re top priority, don’t you know? And you don’t have a choice in this matter. Neither do I.”

Her words gave him pause. He hadn’t considered the fact that she wasn’t a willing participant in this fiasco. But then, why should that matter to him?

“Is Dan forcing this on you?” he demanded, shoving his hands back behind him.

Faith raised her head quickly, looking him dead in the eye. “This is a job, Dr. Murphy. You’ve been assigned to me, no ifs, ands or buts. And I’ll admit that it’s an inconvenience. I already have a full complement of patients, people who are counting on me, people who aren’t ordering me out the door. A little boy who’s taking the first steps he’s managed in a year. A woman who’s just starting to believe she won’t be a burden to her family. I don’t really have the time or the inclination for a royal pain in the butt like you, who doesn’t even want my help. But I’ve got you, anyway. And I don’t argue when my orders come. I love my work, but it’s also my bread and butter. If I don’t work, we don’t eat.”

Nathan didn’t have to ask who “we” was. With her hands outstretched, he could clearly see the bracelet that slipped down her wrist. Made of macaroni bits that had obviously been spray painted red, it was held together with a frayed bit of blue yarn. There were spots where the paint had either not adhered or had chipped away, leaving yellow shadows here and there. Not an attractive piece of jewelry by a long shot; yet she wore it. And Nathan knew why—instantly.

The bracelet had been made by a child, her son. It screamed “family,” and family was a word Nathan shied away from, dreaded; one that crept up on him in dreams that started out sweet and turned bitter and haunting before the night was over. One more reason he didn’t want Faith Reynolds around. She had a child. Never mind all the rest. Never mind the lady herself. The woman was taboo.

~ ~ ~

Faith studied Nathan as he turned from her, blowing out a breath. One hand still rested somewhere behind him, the other raked at his blond hair with fingers that no longer functioned properly. His green eyes were narrowed, his chin jutted out as if preparing for one more fight with her.

She could have told him that it was pointless. With Dr. Anderson geared up and breathing fire, Nathan Murphy had become top priority at the hospital. They’d given him time, valuable time in therapy terms, to mourn and come about. Now they were prepared to drag him kicking and screaming back into the world of the living. He was too precious a commodity for the administration to waste. Murphy and his magical fingers was the shot in the arm that the financially troubled Southeastern Illinois Memorial needed. A big hitter. A name to be brought in. By Faith.

There was a lot riding on her success with this man. Her own reputation was at stake. That was why she was here.

But was it why she was staying? Partly. And partly, because of something else. Looking up into Nathan Murphy’s eyes in those first few seconds, Faith had suffered a shock. She’d dealt with many patients and was used to seeing the lights of people’s souls dimmed. She was used to fear and frustration, anger and bitterness on the part of her patients. Somehow it was still frightening to see
this
man like that. She remembered looking up at him two years ago and feeling as if she’d just touched a live wire. Nathan was too full of life to get close to. She’d heard other people say the same. But this Nathan, this new Nathan...Faith couldn’t finish the thought. The old Nathan might have been dangerous, but at least he had been alive.

She knew just why Dr. Anderson was pushing so hard. Because Faith wanted to know that Dr. Murphy was back, alive and working his miracles with his magical hands, too. And even though she didn’t want to be the one to bring him back, she could no more walk away from him than she could stop the flow of day and night.

“You haven’t spoken for several minutes, Ms. Reynolds. It couldn’t be that you’ve come up with a way out of this for both of us, could it?”

He was still looking away, as if he couldn’t bear to stare at her anymore. And with his head turned to the side, Faith could see just how long and shaggy his dark blond hair had grown. She wondered if the length of his hair was simply part and parcel of the fact that he no longer took care of himself properly or if it was more a reflection of the rebel within him. For there was no doubt in her mind that Nathan was a rebel. He probably worked his magic on patients by threatening them if they didn’t get well.