Shirley Hailstock - Healing The Doctor's Heart

Quickly, she unpacked her belongings and put them away. She didn’t bring much. Everything she hadn’t gotten rid of from the brownstone was in a storage unit, accessible, but not without inconvenience. Jake should have had enough time by now to get ready to go out. She hadn’t decided where they were going when she issued the order. It was designed for one purpose—to let him know she wasn’t going to be his doormat.

He was waiting in the living room when she came down the stairs.

“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice both gruff and challenging.

“For a walk in the park.”

“Why?”

“You need the exercise.”

“And you know this how?” he asked.

“When I bumped into you, you were so thin, I’m amazed you weren’t the one on the ground.”

“And you decided my welfare is now your responsibility?”

“I’m not here as one of your doctors.” She had to remind herself as well as him. “But walking will give us time to talk, get to know each other, lessen some of the tension between us.”

He eyed her keenly. She wondered if he was thinking again about how pushy she was. The thought made her feel powerful. She wasn’t aggressive by nature, but she would allow herself to be pushed only so far before she pushed back. And Jake Masters was used to doing the pushing.

Not today, she told herself.

WHAT SHOULD HE FEEL? Jake asked himself. It had been so long since he’d felt anything but anger. And into his life plunges Lauren Peterson. If he wasn’t so opposed to her intervention, he’d find the situation funny. Especially now that he was sitting and waiting for her, showered and dressed as she’d ordered.

It was ironic, he told himself. If Cal was here they’d both laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Jake had asked for Lauren. He had no idea she would be ordering him around.

He’d read the report Cal had left with him. She was an elementary school teacher. There was nothing else in the report that was of any interest. He didn’t know exactly when she planned to leave the city, but since it was summer, school was not in session.

He heard the door open upstairs and looked up. The sun hit her and for a second his breath caught. Red highlights added a glow around her dark brown hair. He knew that color, knew another woman with hair the sun highlighted just like that. She’d been his first love—Pamela Bailey. He’d looked across his tenth grade classroom and saw the sun shining through Pamela’s hair. Jake hadn’t thought of her in years. What was happening to him? He was never usually this nostalgic.

Lauren was already on her way down the stairs and he followed her movements. She was taller than the average height for a woman, maybe five feet seven or eight. She wore pants that made her legs look as long as the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. Her steps were measured and unhurried, making her appear regal. Definitely not the walk of any teacher he’d ever known.

“Are you in any pain?” she asked when she stood in front of him.

Jake hadn’t thought of his pain since she accosted him in his bedroom. “I’m all right,” he responded.

“Sit down and let me massage your arm before we leave.”

“I thought you weren’t here as a therapist.”

“I’m not.” She smiled. “But if you’re in pain, you can let me help or you can suffer in silence.”

He gave her a long look, but eventually sat down. She began to knead his arm, beginning at his shoulder. Jake allowed her touch to see if she could perform the same magic as the previous time. It was working. He could feel the warmth of her fingers.

“Are you sure you’re not trained in this?”

“I’m self-trained,” she told him.

“Self-trained? What does that mean?”

She waited a long moment. He felt her hesitate, then slightly ease the pressure of her hands. When she spoke, her voice was laced with suppressed emotion. “My mother suffered from severe migraine headaches and arthritis pain. I used to give her a massage every day.”

“Every day?”

“It helped her.”

She moved from his shoulder farther down his arm. Jake wore a short-sleeved shirt and her bare hands were on his bare arm. Heat penetrated his skin, seeping deep into his muscles and relaxing the tension. He wondered what she thought of his immobile limb. Had Cal told her anything about his medical history? What he’d been through? Would she understand?

“How does that feel?” she asked when she’d finished and stood back.

“Fine,” he said. Jake held back how good it felt. He refused to let her know that he wanted her to massage his arm any time he was in pain. He hated being dependent on people. He’d agreed to allow her to be his companion while Cal was away, just to get Cal off his back, but now he thought she could do more.

As long as she didn’t interrupt his life. He’d have to have her agree to a few boundaries, if he could get a word in.

“Did the doctors find a treatment for her pain?” he asked.

“She died five years ago.”

He turned to look at her. He could see why Cal had chosen her as his companion. She’d obviously gained good experience caring for her mother. Jake wanted to say something to ease her pain, but knew there was nothing that was appropriate or even wanted. All the platitudes that people came up with only made the person feel worse.

“I miss her. We had a wonderful relationship and I never minded giving her massages. It gave us time to talk and tell stories. I was her companion and caretaker.”

Jake envied her the obvious love she had for her mother. He understood that love. His mother was the reason he’d gone into medicine. He’d followed in her footsteps and they were big shoes to fill.

“What does your mother do?” she asked.

“She worked as a nurse for years and now runs a nursing program at a university in Pennsylvania. My father teaches math at the same school.”

“Do you see them often?”

“Not as often as they would like. Cal goes to see them more than I do.”

“Why is that? You can’t say it’s your arm, since you can still walk and talk and I’m sure you can drive, even if you don’t want to.”

“Even before my arm, I traveled a lot or was seldom available except for holidays that might also be interrupted on a moment’s notice.”

“And now? It doesn’t take both hands to pick up a phone.”

“I call occasionally.”

Jake was getting tired of her constantly mentioning his arm. He was so used to people doing their best to avoid the issue.

“Why don’t we go for that walk you mentioned?” Maybe walking would give her something else to focus on.

And him too, because those auburn highlights kept sending his mind back to the days before the accident when he had his whole life before him. Now look at him. He glanced at his right arm. He used to go into operating rooms and save lives.

That was before he became useless.

THEY LEFT THE building through the arched doorway of the majestic Dakota apartment building on Central Park West. Jake wore a sling supporting his right arm. It was a short walk across the street to the park’s entrance. Like most New Yorkers, Lauren crossed the street when there was a break in traffic, ignoring signal lights and taking her life into her own hands. Lauren stepped off the curb only to be pulled back by Jake.

A car rounded the corner and would have hit her.

“You’re supposed to be my caretaker,” he said. “Not the other way around.”