Out of the Shadows (15 page)

She sighed, and the sound surrounded him like a chill wind. “What’s wrong? Is Gus worse?”

“Not really. Sort of.” An exasperated sigh this time. “He’s always steady as a rock, but when he was getting out of the van tonight, his arms were shaking so badly, I thought he’d never make it to the house.”

“Did you take his temperature?”

“Yeah. It’s still ninety-nine point eight. He took the aspirins but didn’t want any tea.”

“Is he sleeping now?”

“If you can call it that. He reminds me of a fish out of water, the way he tosses and turns.”

“I’ll get on it first thing in the morning. Maybe I can get ’em to speed things up a mite.”

“Thanks, Wade. You’re the best.”

If only that were true, maybe he could admit some of what he was feeling. Maybe he could tell her he couldn’t remember feeling more comfortable with anyone in his life. And maybe he could say “I love you” to a woman—and mean it—for the first time in his life.

“Wade? You still there?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“Oh. I thought maybe the storm had cut us off. It’s terrible over here. What’s it doing there?”

Truthfully, Wade hadn’t noticed. But now that she mentioned it, there did seem to be one doozy of a storm going on outside. “Raining like gangbusters,” he said. “And the wind’s howling like a tornado.” He pictured her, huddled under an afghan in the family room, chewing her lip the way she did when something upset her, cringing at every thunderbolt. “You okay? Still have electricity and all that?”

“All’s well on the western front…or however the saying goes.”

Again, he heard the smile in her voice. It made him want to jump back into the car, speed over to her house and wrap her in a bear hug. Instead, he just gripped the phone a little more tightly and said, “Good.”

“So, do you have surgery tomorrow?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Some patients to see at the office, hospital rounds, that’s about it.” He hesitated, then said, “How ’bout you?”

“Couple meetings in the morning, then I’ll visit the kids on the oncology ward in the afternoon.”

“Maybe we could meet in the cafeteria for lunch.”

“Well, I, uh, sure. That’d be nice.”

“Hopefully by then I’ll have something to report—about Gus’s tests, that is.” No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Wade remembered that Gus had made him promise not to tell Patrice anything about his condition until he gave the go-ahead.
Another fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into,
he thought, mimicking Oliver Hardy.

“If I ask you a question,” she said, slowly, softly, “will you tell me the truth?”

He could only presume she intended to ask about Gus’s tests. “Depends on the question.” Surely not the answer she’d hoped for, but under the circumstances, it was the best he could do.

“What do
you
think is wrong with Dad?”

He exhaled a sigh of relief;
that
he could tell her without violating doctor–patient confidentiality. “Honestly, I don’t have a clue, Patrice.”

A hush fell between them suddenly, and Wade knew she was waiting to hear him add,
If I knew, I’d tell you.

“Well, then, do you think it’s going to be serious?”

As in life threatening
was her silent follow-up. “Not from what I’ve seen so far.”
Careful,
he warned himself,
you’re treadin’ on thin ice here.

“So it’s probably nothing, then. Just some weird strain of a virus or something.”

“Hopefully, we’ll know soon.” Then he asked, “So what kind of tea are you drinking?” hoping to change the subject.

“How’d you know I was drinking tea?”

“Because every time I’ve been over there, you’ve offered me a cup of tea.” He chuckled. “Besides, didn’t you say while we were waiting for the valets to bring our cars around that you were going to fix yourself a big mug soon as you got home?” It was certainly something she might’ve said, but Wade didn’t know for sure. He was grasping at straws. Steering the conversation from Gus’s condition wasn’t going to be easy.

“It’s chamomile,” she said.

“With sugar?”

“Yes.”

“Seems a waste.”

“Why?”

“You’re sweet enough already.”

A line like that would’ve come easily to him…with another woman. But saying it to Patrice, well, it was true, so did that make it a “line” or didn’t it?

“You’re making me blush.”

“The truth shouldn’t make you blush, Patrice.”

She cleared her throat, then said, “So, what’re
you
doing?”

He grabbed the remote, selected channel thirteen and hit the mute button. “Watching the news,” he said. “What about you? Waiting for the weather report?”

“No,” she said softly. “I’m reading the Bible.”

What for?
he wanted to ask. She wouldn’t find answers in there. Experience had taught him the only thing the Bible was good for was raising
more
questions. Like why did a man leave his wife and kids without a dime, and never look back? And why did a kid hang around with a bunch of juvies who only got him into trouble? And why did his mother, the sweetest most loving woman in the world, have to die of cancer?

“I was thinking maybe it would give me some peace,” Patrice added. “I’m not sure if it’s the storm or what, but it isn’t working tonight.”

“Meaning, it usually does?” he asked.

“Sometimes, when I’m troubled, I read something that’s so pertinent, well, it brings me such peace, I tingle all the way to my fingertips!”

He’d tingled, too, the night his mother died. But as he recalled, it hadn’t been a good feeling. In fact, it had been the worst experience of his life.

“I take it you’re not a regular churchgoer,” she said.

“That’s putting it mildly.” He hadn’t meant it to come out so harsh, but he’d been down this road before. Every time he talked to his sister, it seemed, she was after him to come to Sunday services. “You need the Lord in your life,” Anna would say. “Besides, what sort of example are you setting for your niece and nephew?” Seemed to Wade it was up to Anna and Frank to set a proper example for their kids—not him. But he’d never said so. After all, she was all the family he had left.

“There have been a few episodes in my life when I’ve turned from the Lord,” Patrice said. “But He never lets me get too far away. Somehow, He always knows just what to do…and when, to bring me home.”

Home?
He would’ve asked what she meant by that if
she hadn’t said, “Well, it’s getting late. I suppose I should let you go.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“What time do you want me to meet you?”

“Uh…meet me?”

“Tomorrow, for lunch. In the cafeteria?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He blew a stream of air through his lips.
Idiot,
he chastised. It had been his idea, after all. So much for his vow never to see her again on a personal basis. “Twelve, twelve-thirty, whichever is best for you.”

“Noon it is, then.”

He didn’t want to let her go. Or didn’t want her to let
him
go…. “You sure you’re okay over there?”

“Sure. This is an old house, but it’s built like a fortress.”

Wade only half heard what she’d said, because he was too busy inserting what he wished she’d say instead:
No, I’m not okay. Would you come over and check things out?
or
I’d feel so much better if you were here, holding me….

“Wade?”

“Yeah?”

She giggled softly. “Thought I’d lost you there for a minute.”

If he could make all his problems disappear, they’d be together, forever.

As in married?

The question made his heart lurch. “See you tomorrow, then.”

That image of her, sitting in a gigantic rocking chair, suckling their baby girl, flashed in his mind again. Thumb and forefinger pressing into his eyes, Wade shook his head.
You’re losin’ it, old man.
And chuckling
to himself, he added,
Losin’ it, my foot…you’ve already
lost
it!

“Okay. Well, sweet dreams.”

“G’night, Patrice.” He replaced the telephone receiver in the cradle, flopped back against the chair cushions and groaned aloud.

It was risky, Patrice knew, turning on the computer during a raging thunderstorm. But she simply had to find out more about him; the Internet had never let her down before.

She pulled up her favorite search engine, fingers drumming on the desktop as it loaded onto the screen. At last, she was able to type “Dr. Wade Cameron” into the “search for” field. Seconds later, a listing of articles appeared, each bearing some reference to him. Scrolling down, she found one that said “Cameron in Camelot” and clicked on the pale blue letters.

Careful what you ask for,
she thought, frowning as she gaped at the photograph of Wade, arm in arm with a tall, beautiful blonde. “Spring wedding planned for heart doc and his heart throb,” the caption said.

Why hadn’t he told her he’d been engaged? she wondered, scrolling down to the next article. “Why should he?” she said aloud. “It’s no business of mine….”

Half an hour later, after reading a dozen articles about Wade being crowned Bachelor of the Year, Wade pulling in more money than any man in the history of the Heart Association’s Bachelor Auction, Wade attending one charitable function or another with a gorgeous glamour queen on his arm, she shut down the computer, wishing the stormy weather had prevented her from taking this little tour through cyberspace.
What ya don’t know won’t hurt you,
she thought, clicking off the desk lamp.

The things she’d learned online shouldn’t hurt so much, but it did! She’d begun to think maybe she
did
have half a chance with Wade, but now she knew better. He’d grown accustomed to fascinating, striking women with thrilling careers and exciting lifestyles; even if she had a mind to, Patrice felt she couldn’t begin to compete with that.

So back in the family room, trusty Bible in her lap, Patrice searched the Word for comfort. Since childhood, she’d relied on God to lead her to relevant passages. Now, teary-eyed and feeling sorry for herself, she snugged into the double-wide easy chair, let the Good Book fall open and read the first verse that came into view: Revelation 21:4.

“…for the Lamb which is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters, and God shall wipe all the tears from their eyes….”

If she needed proof that her Father in heaven had seen her tears, there it was, in black and white. It made her smile a bit, knowing He was so involved, even in the silly minutia of her daily life!

She flipped through the pages and read from the book of Job: “My soul is weary…I will speak in the bitterness of my soul….” Then, Hebrews 2:10 said, “…in bringing many sons to glory, to make the captain of their salvation perfect…through sufferings.”

Patrice sighed. Sometimes, she didn’t think she
wanted
to grow stronger, physically or faithfully—not if she had to suffer to acquire that strength!

One more verse opened unto her: “…God is faithful,” read I Corinthians 10:13, “and will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be
able to bear it….” God’s personal guarantee that no matter what life forced her to endure, He’d always see to it she had the strength to get through it.

So her feelings for Wade would wane. She’d get over her schoolgirl crush—what more could it be, after such a short time?—and get on with the life she’d been leading before he came back into her world.

Closing the Bible, Patrice held it against her chest, remembering that night in the emergency room. She’d probably spent a couple hundred nights, all told, waiting for her parents to see her little brother through yet another crisis. But that night was different, from the glaring pain in Timmy’s eyes to the terror in her mother’s.

Then a shaggy-haired boy had strolled into the waiting room, hiding his concern behind an “I’m so
bad
” stride and a tough-guy expression—an expression that softened and warmed the instant his eyes met hers. His gentle smile, the genuineness of his smile, the careful questions he’d asked about Timmy, well, was it any wonder she’d thought of him hundreds of nights since then?

She had to learn to be satisfied with things, just as they were. “Folks only get hurt when they wish for the impossible,” Gus had always said. “Remember, ‘it is what it is,’ so satisfy yourself with that instead of wishing your life away.”

Quietly, privately, she’d been wishing something deeper would develop between her and Wade; what she’d read on the computer screen had shown her that was impossible. Patrice reminded herself that God had promised to provide a means of escape, so she’d be able to bear it when things didn’t turn out as she hoped. The promise did little to ease the pain of realization, but it was a comfort nonetheless.

Although her heart was breaking, as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help remembering how it felt when he held her in his arms and gave her a kiss so soft and gentle it made her think of angel’s wings.

T
he minute she’d finished hanging her coat on the hook behind her office door, Patrice looked up Wade’s extension in the hospital phone directory. Tucking her purse into a deep drawer in her desk with one hand, she dialed his number with the other, hoping he wouldn’t be in yet.

Thank You, Lord,
she prayed when his voice mail picked up the call. The rich robust voice sent a shudder up her back:
“You’ve reached Dr. Wade Cameron…”

“Hi, Wade,” she said after the beep, “it’s Patrice.” She cleared her throat and, in an attempt to sound upbeat and pleasant, she smiled, as if smiling would blot his dating history from her mind. As if it made no difference that his Little Black Book was likely the size of the Baltimore phone book. “I’m afraid I can’t make lunch today,” she said, biting back the jealousy. “Something has come up.” It was true, after all: his
past
had come up. Admittedly, it wouldn’t have been so bad, if what she’d learned hadn’t made it so clear she was anything
but
his type. “You’ll let me know the minute you hear
anything about Dad’s tests, won’t you? I’ll be in and out all day, so feel free to leave a message….”

She could wrangle deals with corporate heads, finesse donations from the grumpiest tightwad, balance the Child Services books to the penny, and convince even the whiniest child to eat brussels sprouts. Co-workers, friends and fellow parishioners often commented on her level headedness, her good sense. But where men were concerned, Patrice considered herself dumb as a post.

Much as she cared about Wade, what choice did she have but to avoid him? “My extension is 410, by the way, to save you having to page through that horrible directory.”

Stop rambling,
she told herself,
and just say goodbye!
“Bye-bye!”

Bye-bye?
Now there’s a mix of maturity and professionalism that’s sure to set him on his heels! Patrice gripped the receiver to tightly she nearly dropped the phone. Maybe she hadn’t sounded as ridiculous to Wade as she had to herself…?

As she hung up, a Bible passage sprang to mind. “Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers.” It had popped into her head last night, too, following Wade’s gruff response to her mention of the Bible. Try as she might, Patrice hadn’t been able to ignore II Corinthians 6:14, because the last half of the verse made it clear she had a decision to make: “…for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness, and what communion hath light with darkness?”

Nothing could make her see Wade as “darkness.”

Not even the articles she’d read, highlighting his fast-lane life?

She sat back in her chair and gave it a moment’s thought. His behavior hadn’t exactly been wholesome,
but then, there was no reason to believe it had been sinful, either. The photograph of him with the voluptuous clinging blonde entered her mind. Squinting didn’t block the mental picture, nor did rubbing her eyes.

Funny, but they hadn’t
looked
like a couple in love. In fact, neither Wade nor his fiancée seemed the least bit happy. And shouldn’t the announcement that they planned to spend the rest of their lives together have produced
some
sign of joy on their faces?

The question made her recall an incident from her own past, when a young man she’d been seeing proposed marriage. Patrice had said yes, not because she’d loved Jerry, but because the timing seemed suitable; she’d been twenty-three, the right age, she’d thought, to start a family. Fortunately, Jerry backed out even before an announcement could be made. Had it been that way for Wade and his beautiful blonde? If that was the case, which of them had called off the engagement?

Not that it mattered. She’d decided to stop seeing Wade before things got out of hand, anyway. It would be best that way, for both of them.

Without warning, the photograph of Wade flared in her mind. Only this time,
she
sat beside him, one hand resting lightly on his bicep, and this time, the smiles on their faces were proof how much they looked forward to sharing a lifetime.

“Oh, cut it out,” she scolded herself. “You’re only making it harder to do what needs to be done.”

Sighing, Patrice grabbed the phone again, dialed her home number.

“Hello?”

“Molly,” Patrice said, “I’m so glad you answered and not Dad. Where is he?”

“Napping,” Gus’s nurse answered. “I checked on him not ten minutes ago.”

“How’s his fever?”

“One hundred point eight.”

Up a degree from last night, she realized. “Did he take anything for it?”

“You know Gus,” Molly said on a sigh. “He doesn’t make anything easy.” Molly deepened her voice. “‘One of these days,”’ she quoted him, “’I’m gonna turn
into
a pill!”’ Laughing, his nurse added, “I said, ‘Too late…that happened the day you were born!”’ She laughed softly, then sighed. “I finally convinced him to take two aspirins and get into bed just before you called.”

Well, Patrice thought, at least he’d agreed to that much. “Thanks, Molly. You’re a peach. I’ll try to get off a little early today.”

“Good idea. You usually have better luck getting him to behave than I do.” The nurse clucked her tongue. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the man has a crush on me, because sometimes, he reminds me of the boys in the playground.”

Patrice had always suspected Gus had feelings for Molly that had more to do with her spunk and adorable personality than her nursing skills. Smiling, Patrice said, “Just say the word, and we’ll cancel recess for that naughty boy.”

“I might just tell him you said that!”

Patrice hung up slowly, remembering how years ago she’d jokingly speculated that Gus’s feelings for Molly were more personal than professional. Stern as a fire-and-brimstone preacher, he’d said, “Molly is a good person, and she deserves only the best.” Patrice read that to mean he didn’t consider himself “the best,” and knew
he wouldn’t feel that way—if not for the condition that kept him confined to a wheelchair.

And if it hadn’t been for your self-centeredness,
Patrice thought,
he wouldn’t be in that chair in the first place.

Covering her face with both hands, Patrice sighed heavily.

The phone rang, startling her so badly she nearly knocked the pencil cup from her desk. One hand over her chest, she pressed the intercom button. “Yes, Lisa?”

“You asked me to let you know when it was eleven o’clock,” said her secretary. “Need me to call ahead, let ’em know you’re on your way over to Pediatric ICU?”

“No, that’s okay, but thanks just the same.”

“Have fun,” Lisa said. Another click and the intercom went silent.

She had to get into a better frame of mind, for the kids’ sake. Standing, Patrice squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “He only gives you what He knows you can handle,” she reminded herself, grabbing Mort McMonkey from his special spot on the bookshelf. Exhaling, she forced a big smile and started for the elevator. She’d make the rounds in the children’s wards, then head back to her office, where, with any luck, she’d find that Wade had called with news about Gus’s condition.

She punched the up button, then stepped back and watched the pale yellow numbers above the double doors light up. “Let it be good news, Lord,” she prayed, as one by one, tiny
pings
announced each floor.

Because if it wasn’t, that Bible verse was going to be tested to its limits this time.

As he stepped out of the elevator, Wade pulled back his sleeve. Eleven twenty-five, read his watch. He’d examine Emily Kirkpatrick, then use the phone at the nurses’ station to call Patrice—make sure she hadn’t forgotten about their lunch date.

He’d been in a rotten mood till that thought, what with one emergency room procedure ending badly and post-surgical complications arising for another patient. The thought of sitting across from Patrice in one of the cafeteria’s padded booths raised his spirits. He could almost hear her delightful laughter, her lilting voice. If he closed his eyes, he could see her smiling face and dancing brown eyes, and that adorable way she had of tilting her head whenever he spoke, as if every word out of his mouth was truly important to her.

She made a man feel good, he decided. Made him feel like the center of her universe. Well, not exactly the
center;
she’d made it abundantly clear that spot was reserved for God.

Lost in thought, Wade rounded the corner and nearly crashed headlong into his partner.

Adam laughed. “Where are you headed in such a hurry?”

Red-faced, Wade grinned. “Hey, how goes it?”

“Never better.”

And it appeared to be true. Wade had practically grown up with Adam Thorne, and couldn’t remember seeing him look more fit…or happier. “Seems marriage agrees with you, ol’ buddy,” he said, slapping his bicep. “Maybe you oughta go away on a honeymoon every couple o’ months.”

Adam laughed. “I’d say ‘practice what you preach,’ but God hasn’t created the woman who could pass your Miss Perfect test.”

That might’ve been true…once. But not anymore. Not since he’d met Patrice.

As if on cue, he heard her voice.
“You take a nice, long nap now,”
she said on behalf of Mort McMonkey.
“I’ll be back tomorrow to make sure you ate all your supper tonight, so you’d better clean up your plate, y’hear!”
Waving, she stepped into the hallway and hurried into Emily Kirkpatrick’s room, oblivious to the two lab-coated men standing several yards behind her.

Wade sensed rather than saw Adam follow his gaze. Arms crossed over his chest, his friend nodded.

“Ho ho,” Adam said, smirking, “what’s this?” He leaned in for a closer look at Wade’s face, then straightened and chuckled. “Has the Bachelor of the Year hung up his certificate?”

The heat of a blush crept up his neck. “Get real,” Wade said. “She’s cute, but—”

“Don’t gimme that, pal. I’ve seen you gawk at ‘cute’ before, and you never looked like
that.
”

Like what?
he wondered as the heat moved to his cheeks. Running a hand through his hair, he grinned. “Maybe you should have stayed in Cancún another couple of days, cuz you’re seeing things.” But he knew Adam. Once that guy got on a topic…

“So how’s Kasey?” he asked, hoping to change the subject. “All tan and rosy from hours on the beach?”

“She’s great, just great.”

Adam hadn’t needed to say it; what the man felt for his bride was written all over his face.

“Glad to hear it, because she promised to make a home-cooked dinner for me when you guys got back from the Yucatán.” Wade tapped a forefinger to his temple. “Some things, a guy doesn’t forget.”

“Yeah, well I’ll remind her, just in case.” Adam
glanced toward the room where Patrice was doing her monkey voice, then met Wade’s eyes again. “You want to invite somebody? I’m sure it’ll be fine with Kasey….”

The last blush had barely faded when he felt another tint his cheeks. “So, have you been to the office yet?”

Grinning, Adam shook his head. “Subtle, Cameron. Real subtle.” He chuckled, then added, “Matter of fact, I just came from the office. Man, y’wouldn’t believe the stack of paperwork on my desk!”

Wade and Adam had been partners in their cardiac practice for several years now, sharing office space, a secretary, a receptionist and one another’s caseload. “You should’ve seen it before I sorted out the junk mail for you.”

“Thanks, pal. I was just telling Kasey this morning that you’re a handy guy to have around.” He laughed, playfully punched Wade’s shoulder. “Well, got me a patient to check on. Catch you at the office in the morning…or do you have surgery?”

“Nah, easy day tomorrow, for a change.”

“Catch you there, then.”

Adam headed for the elevator, and Wade caught up to him as he hit the down button. “Set aside half an hour or so for me, will you? I have this new patient, see, and I’d like a consult.”

“Sure thing.” The elevator doors opened, and Adam stepped inside. Smirking, he leaned forward and whispered, “If you get the lead out, you can probably catch the Monkey Lady before she moves to the next floor.”

The doors hissed closed before Wade had a chance to make a comeback.
Just as well,
he thought, smiling despite himself. What sort of retort could he have made, considering Adam had practically read his mind?

He started for Emily’s room, mentally thanking Patrice. By showing up when she did, she’d spared him the ordeal of groveling with the head nurse for use of her phone. Judging from the scowl on the nurse’s face, she’d have put him through his paces.

Frowning, the head nurse looked up from her clipboard as he passed her in the hall. “What’s that, Doctor?”

“Nothing,” he said, topping off his plastic smile with an equally half-hearted salute. “Just thinking out loud….”

The soothing softness of Patrice’s voice stopped him just outside the door to Emily’s hospital room. “Aw, don’t cry, sweetie,” she was saying. “Dr. Cameron is a friend of mine, and I happen to know that he’d never let a thing like that happen!”

A thing like what?
he wondered. He was about to enter the room, when Emily’s small, weak voice said, “My roommate Julie says I’m going to die….”

Wade heard the little girl sniff before continuing. “Julie says she heard the nurses talking about it when I was downstairs, having X rays this morning.”

Patrice clucked her tongue. “She actually heard them say your name?”

“Well, no-o-o-o, but Julie says they were sayin’ stuff ’bout my heart condition.”

“My goodness, I’m very impressed with Julie!”

Wade listened to an instant of silence, then heard Emily’s timid “Why?”

“Well,” Patrice explained, “she’s awfully young to be a doctor, don’t you think?”

Emily didn’t answer right away, but when she did, Wade heard the smile in her voice: “Julie’s only nine. Ever’body knows nine’s too young to be a doctor!”

“Hmm, then tell me, Emily Kirkpatrick, how would she know it was you the nurses were talking about? Do you have any idea how many patients there are on this floor of the hospital?”