Dianne Drake - The Nurse And The Single Dad

Not that she had a personal life going on right now. Go home, study case notes, feed Fluffy, her Persian diva cat, make a few phone calls, eat a late supper, do some reading and drift off to sleep. Repeat the next day. Then there were the weekends—errands galore. Grocery shopping, laundry, at least a half-day in the office putting charts onto the computer while no one was around to bother her. Plus all the other stuff she did on a daily basis. Oh, and wall-climbing on most Saturdays. She did enjoy that!

Occasionally, if she was bored, she’d treat herself to a movie with all the trimmings—diet soda and buttered popcorn. In the dark, no one cared that she was there all by herself, and it was nice to bask in that anonymity for a couple of hours. No expectations, no worries.

But every Sunday morning she made that obligatory call to her mother.

“How are you doing, dear?” her mother would say.

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“Anything happening in your life yet?”

“Same ol’, same ol’.”

“No new boyfriend, no dating?”

“Just keeping to myself, Mom. And working.”

“So when are you going to find yourself a nice man, settle down and give me some grandbabies?”

“Not in the near future, as far as I can tell. I don’t meet eligible men in my line of work.”

“So go work at the hospital where you can snatch up some handsome young doctor.”

“I don’t want to work in the hospital and I don’t need a handsome young doctor in my life.”

“You never change, Zoey,” her mother would always accuse her. “You never change.”

Same conversation every Sunday morning, and that was what never changed. But that phone call to dear old Mumsy was a habit she couldn’t bring herself to break. So she endured it along with the rest of her obligatory chores. Then twice a year, she trekked home to Omaha for a week, to have that conversation in person. She’d gotten used to enduring the recurring topic in exchange for the week of pampering her mother lavished on her. That part was nice—being taken care of rather than being the caregiver.

As Zoey pulled her little red car into her patient’s driveway, she looked up at the white frame house sitting atop a slight knoll and sighed. It would have been nice spending a little while longer with Daniel this morning. But duty called. For both of them. And her duty right now was to make sure Mrs. Barrow was up to a trip to her doctor this afternoon. Bathed, hair washed, dressed, vital signs stable, medicines administered... It was a privilege tending to someone who needed so much help, but Mrs. Barrow was one of the rare ones who was spunky in her end stages. Zoey liked that. Liked the feisty attitude as it made her feel a little feisty herself.

She sighed again as she headed to the front door, medical bag in hand. Something about Daniel had caused a restlessness in her. She didn’t know why and wasn’t keen to explore the reasons, but she wanted a date. Yes, a date. One night only. Wine and dine. No strings. It would break up her routine and prove to her that there was still a little human need left in her after all.

But with Daniel? She wasn’t sure about that. He was a reminder, though, that something was missing.

CHAPTER TWO

THE INSTRUCTIONS ON his invitation were perfectly clear. He was to be seated at table seventeen, the table all the way to the far right of the immense banquet hall, halfway from the front and halfway from the back. Two years ago, when he’d attended the hospital fundraiser with Elizabeth, they’d been seated near the front, directly in the center of everything, at a table with three other couples and a clear view of the podium. From prominent to insignificant, he thought, as he started looking for his table.

Daniel was never particularly keen to go to these kinds of affairs, especially ones that required a tuxedo. But Elizabeth had loved getting all dressed up and attending, so he’d been dragged along compliantly for her sake. He thought back to the lovely floor-length strapless blue satin gown she’d worn at their last hospital banquet together. It was stunning on her. His wife had been a head-turner, a real looker, with her long, flowing, sunny blond hair and inviting smile. Someone everyone had noticed, and envied. And he’d been the envy of every man there, having a woman like Elizabeth on his arm.

“Go on without me, Daniel. Continue to do the things we loved to do together.”

Because she’d loved that night so much, and it had shone on her face, he’d been happy to be there with her. Proud, in fact. Then last year he hadn’t attended as a single. It had been too difficult. Too many memories. And so much had happened in that year that the annual fundraiser had been the farthest thing from his mind when it rolled around again this year. Now, here he was, asked by his department head to be here.

“You’re not getting out enough,” Walter Downing had said. “I’m worried because, ever since Elizabeth, you seem to be retreating from the world. You need to shake up your life and get it going again.”

Well, things in his life were shaking up, were gradually falling back into normal place. He supposed he should look at coming to this fundraiser as part of that.

Daniel did have to admit that this event was always a nice affair. The food was good, the entertainment was above par and the speeches urging those in attendance to do their part toward the benefit of the hospital were neither grueling nor long-winded, thank God! Tonight, though, he had an idea that he was to be seated at one of the notorious singles tables as he had not marked off the “plus one” option on his RSVP. Daniel Caldwell, alone. Damn, he didn’t like the feel of that.

Sighing, Daniel made his way through the crowd and past the bar, where there were long lines of people waiting to be served. He bypassed the alcohol altogether, not that he would have minded a good, stiff drink to get him through the evening, and went off in search of his seat. The number 17 was clearly marked on a placard in the center of the table, right next to the centerpiece of pink and white carnations mingling with red teacup-rosebuds and snuggled into sprigs of greenery and baby’s breath. Two of the chairs at the table for eight were tilted up, indicating that two people had already laid claim to their spots, then wandered off. Probably to the bar, he guessed. Interestingly enough, the two reserved spots were not next to each other, so the people who’d tipped up those chairs had purposely chosen spots on opposite sides of the table. No new friendships would be forged at this table tonight, Daniel thought to himself as he pulled out a chair and seated himself.

He glanced at his watch. There were still fifteen minutes to wait. A long, boring fifteen minutes, since he doubted he’d know anyone at the table, which meant conversation would be held to a bare minimum. At least on his part it would be, as he hated shouting over the noisy crowd in the room just to be heard. Well, so be it. That was fine with him, as he didn’t have time for new friends in his life, anyway. These days, he barely had time to acknowledge his old friends, and on those occasions when he was thrown together with someone from his past it was usually someone he’d related to with Elizabeth.

Once, he’d lived in a world where his wife had been enough and now, without her, he was afraid he caused everyone around him to be uncomfortable. They didn’t know what to say or how to act since her death. There’d been some invitations to dinner or other activities at first, more out of pity than the genuine desire to entertain him. But he’d always had the graciousness to decline as he didn’t want to cause the ones asking him to feel ill at ease. Besides, he always had the excuse that he had to get home to Maddie.