Melanie Mitchell - The Nurse's Bodyguard

“Well, okay...” He leaned forward in his chair again, staring at his clasped hands. Finally his eyes rose to hold hers. “Miss Olsen. In my experience, I’ve known a lot of football players and combat soldiers who were easily more than twice your size, who didn’t have the fortitude you showed last night.” He stood and held his hand as a peace offering. “One of my redeeming qualities is I can admit when I’ve been wrong. I truly apologize for my harsh questioning and for doubting your veracity. Please let me shake your hand.”

Claire was stunned. His eyes pinned hers and she blinked. Nodding slightly, she rose and allowed his huge hand to swallow hers a second time. Marveling at the size difference, she murmured, “It’s okay. I understand. You were just doing your job.”

* * *

LUKE CONTINUED TO STARE at her oddly colored eyes. And then she smiled. The smile was shy and incredibly sweet. The flush that Luke felt was concurrent with an odd tightening in his chest. He recognized the sensation immediately. He had just lost his heart.

CHAPTER FOUR

CLAIRE CRADLED THE little girl in her arms, gently rocking back and forth. She mumbled some words in poorly accented, broken Korean. The child probably couldn’t comprehend, but Claire hoped the words would comfort her nonetheless. Hyo-joo was small for her age, having battled leukemia for the past six months. Despite her outward appearance, Hyo-joo was one of the fortunate ones. There were still many hurdles to overcome, not the least of which were opportunistic infections and reoccurrence, but thanks to powerful drugs, radiation and a bone marrow transplant from her father, the child was winning the battle.

They were sitting in the brightly colored playroom of the children’s wing. The room was a place of respite—a spot to distract both patients and their families from the pain and uncertainty inherent with cancer—as well as a laboratory. Several years before, a forward-thinking doctor, schooled in both Eastern and Western medicine, had set up the playroom/laboratory to institute a more holistic approach to the management of children with cancer. He’d started with a half-dozen electronic play stations with computer games for children from ages one to twenty-one. Those had grown in number, been updated several times, and were perpetually busy from early in the morning until after what should have been the children’s bedtime. The computers were a diversion for the very ill children as well as a resource for the doctors and nurses to assess the cognitive and psychomotor function of the young patients. They could also be used as educational tools, as many of the children lost significant time in school when they were hospitalized for weeks and even months.

Claire clucked her tongue and whistled quietly, gaining the attention of the Scottish terrier who’d been resting on a bed in a corner of the large room. “Come, Kai-ji.” The dog jumped up from her perch and happily trotted over to nuzzle the sick girl.

During the second year of the playroom’s existence, pet therapy was instituted. The program was started with one small dog; now there were four. In addition to the little Scottie, there was a West Highland white terrier, a cocker spaniel and a standard poodle. The therapy dogs loved children, were patient and well trained, and—very important—they did not shed. Each was remarkably intuitive, somehow knowing which children were ill and limiting rambunctious play with them. Oftentimes the dogs would respond even more appropriately to a child’s condition than the nurses and doctors, amazing Claire.

The most recent additions to the holistic therapy program were keyboards and flutes. The hospital had employed a full-time music therapist who taught the children music theory and how to play the instruments. The idea was to help re-direct the young patients from focusing on their illnesses to thinking about their recovery. Claire had been skeptical at first, but after working with the therapist and seeing his results, she’d quickly recognized the value of using music to express feelings, particularly for the older children.

* * *

WHEN LUKE ENTERED the playroom late Tuesday afternoon, he saw Claire sitting cross-legged on the floor. She was cradling a tiny, bald child who was petting and being licked by a small black dog. He studied the large, brightly lit room filled with computer stations, toys, pianos and keyboards, as well as people whose happy expressions seemed out-of-place for a children’s cancer ward.

The children were dressed in loose pajamas that resembled surgeon’s scrubs. The younger children’s attire was printed with dinosaurs, kittens, horses or princesses and the scrubs of the older children were various solid colors, but were neon-bright. Except that many of the children were holding onto or sitting right beside IV poles and/or were wearing masks covering their mouths and noses, he could have been in a school or children’s play area anywhere. All of the adults were either playing with the children or sitting quietly by and reading or watching TV.

When Luke saw Claire, she was engrossed with the child. As he watched, she gently kissed the bald head, smiled and whispered something. The sensation Luke experienced at that moment was completely unique for him. Even during his most vulnerable circumstances, whether he’d been playing football against a tough opponent, or facing tense situations on the war’s frontline, or riding in a plane landing on an aircraft carrier in rough seas, he’d never felt this particular combination of apprehension and anticipation. His palms were sweaty, his mouth was dry and his heart beat erratically.

Luke spent much of his life trying to avoid being conspicuous. He’d learned to stand very still to keep from attracting attention. Normally he had at least some success, but in a room filled with about a dozen Korean children and at least that many smallish, slender, black-headed men and women, the huge American man in jeans and green polo shirt was impossible to miss. Before he’d even gotten completely through the door, one of the children squeaked something and within seconds all heads—including Claire’s—had turned in his direction. Even the dogs seemed to be aware of his presence.

With a room full of staring men, women and ill children, Luke did his best to appear non-threatening. He gave a small, friendly wave to no one in particular and graced the room’s inhabitants with a shy smile. He tucked his hands into his jeans pockets and slumped, trying to shrink.

Claire was startled by his sudden appearance. Still holding the child, she stood gracefully. “Uh...em...Lieutenant...” When she spoke, all eyes moved from the huge man at the door to her. She cleared her throat and managed to mutter, “Do you need something?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’d like to speak to you for a minute.”

Claire passed the little girl to one of the nursing assistants standing nearby. She brushed a hand over her hair and adjusted her glasses before crossing to the door. Once there, she seemed nearly overwhelmed. She blinked tensely as she looked up at him.

“Is there a problem with my case?”

He glanced beyond her into the room full of curious faces and then back down at the anxious young woman. “Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?”

Claire took one step to the side, as if afraid to turn her back on him. She motioned down the short hall leading to a large waiting room in the outer lobby.

“Yes. I’m sure we can find a spot this way.” She glanced at him as she led him toward several unoccupied chairs at one corner of the lobby. “Um, why are you here? Is something wrong?”

Luke studied her for a moment before responding. “Has anyone from the consular staff contacted you?”

He was struck again by her unusual eyes and fine, soft features. She was tall and slender, and she was dressed much as she had been on Saturday, in a long dark skirt made of some knit material that flowed. Her pale pink blouse was mostly covered by the buttoned white lab coat and she was wearing soft-soled, flat ballet slippers. She was remarkably lovely, but there was something extra, something elusive about her that drew him.