Cathryn Parry - Out of His League

Overall, it made Jon Farell look...beautiful. And with his warm, musically pitched voice, it gave him the mysterious aura of some past, mystical culture.

He set her workaday French and Scottish genes on fire. Which had probably contributed to her opening her mouth and admitting things to him that she would never in a million years tell anybody else.

It made him uniquely dangerous to her.

The aides prepared to wheel Jon’s gurney into the operating room, and she stepped forward, doing her job. As the rest of the team moved into position, she put relaxants into Jon’s IV line. Waited until those ice-blue eyes flickered closed.

She felt her shoulders relaxing. He was in the customary pose of her customary patients. He was no longer a threat.

“Lizzy,” he murmured suddenly, and she jumped.

“Yes, Jon?” She leaned closer.

“Please tell me afterward what the doctor said about the malignancy. Can you do that?”

“I’ll...”

But he was out. It was just as well.

They wheeled him into surgery, and she set him up to monitor him with her equipment. Waited while the nurse—that lucky woman—tied his beautiful hair up into a cap before placing pads on his chest and a cuff on his arm. Elizabeth eased him into unconsciousness by selecting a syringe and inserting the drugs into his IV.

He was truly out then.

Briefly, Elizabeth wondered how she could possibly communicate to Jon afterward, as he had asked, but she put that out of mind and went back to her customary, safe place. With deft hands—she’d done this hundreds of times, after all—she intubated him.

For the first time, she was touching his body, albeit with gloves on. She gently placed a tube into his airway to take control of his breathing during the operation.

Then she sat back at her cart behind the surgery drape and observed her machines. That was what anesthesiologists did.

He was not the famous Jon Farell now. He was any patient.

But still, when the surgeon isolated and removed the tumor at long last, she couldn’t help searching the doctor’s eyes.

Good news or bad?

And either way, how would she tell Jon?

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER THE SURGERY, and with Jon wheeled safely to the recovery room, Elizabeth hurried to the hospital day care center where her nephew and her sister waited for her.

In a private room, she gave eight-year-old Brandon a cursory checkup, questioned him and checked his vital signs.

The outgoing, towheaded boy showed no symptoms of renewed cancer. Nothing that Elizabeth could outwardly see. On the contrary, he seemed as energetic as ever—he fidgeted and had a difficult time sitting still. Elizabeth told him to wait for his mom in the hospital day care center, and then she led her sister to a long, quiet corridor, encased in glass, that overlooked the Boston skyline.

In the midday light, Elizabeth stared at the thin, stylishly dressed, older sister who was so different from her, it was hard to believe they’d come from the same parents.

Ashley paced back and forth, jittery, her high-heeled boots clicking on the floor. She was rubbing her arms as she walked. “It’s happening again.”

Elizabeth’s pulse sped up. “What is happening again?”

“I can’t take it,” Ashley said. “The tests...the trips to Boston...the stress of worrying...”

“Ashley, he seems fine. A normal, active eight-year-old. Give the tests a chance to ease your mind. What time is his appointment?”

“Twelve o’clock, and I can’t be there.” Ashley stopped pacing. “Lisbeth, I need you to help me with Brandon, just for today while we get through this.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Elizabeth said as calmly as she could. There was a reason she kept her family at arm’s length. Ashley’s appearance this morning was the least of it.

But her sister’s chin took on a stubborn tilt. “If Brandon is sick again, you work at the hospital. You’re the best person to help him.”

“I’m glad you’ve come to that conclusion.” Five years ago when Brandon had been diagnosed with leukemia, Ashley had refused to allow Elizabeth to have anything to do with Brandon’s treatment. She’d been the devoted if slightly martyred mother who had hovered over him at every appointment.

Elizabeth’s reaction to the boy’s sickness, on the other hand, had been to study all she could about the illness. She’d consulted with Brandon’s doctors, and, as a medical student affiliated with the hospital back then, surreptitiously checked to make sure that he was getting the best and latest of care. All of it done behind the scenes, of course, with the guarantee of no attention drawn to herself.

“Ashley, I am not good with children. You know this.”

“You work with sick people,” her sister insisted.

“Brandon is not sick! He is healthy and he needs to get back to school!”

“You have a car,” Ashley said, hugging herself and staring out the window. “The school’s not too far from here...”

She didn’t appear to be listening to Elizabeth. Then again, she was Ashley. Even as a girl, she’d been fueled by emotion. A queen of drama. Born pretty, Elizabeth’s older sister had been the head of a clique of girls who’d ruled the neighborhood. Maybe that had been her coping mechanism to their chaotic home life. Elizabeth had coped by hiding in the public library, doing her homework or looking at National Geographic magazines. She had skipped two grades and had been accepted at college in Boston at sixteen, which had been her escape, and from which she’d never gone back.

Elizabeth tapped her foot. This meeting was unnecessary. She could spend precious time—time she did not have, since she was on duty and had a case to prepare for—explaining to her sister why she could not drive Brandon a half hour to school, in the opposite direction, and then back again, cutting out of her job at the hospital to pick him up. It didn’t make logistical sense.

But Ashley’s mind was not logical or ordered. Elizabeth needed to cut to the heart of the matter for her.

“What’s really going on here?” Elizabeth asked quietly. “Why can’t you sit with Brandon through his tests and then take him to school as usual?”

Ashley stopped pacing. But Elizabeth stepped closer and noticed her sister’s body was twitching. Her skin seemed clammy, and she smelled like...

No. Oh, no.

Their mother drank, but to Elizabeth’s knowledge, her sister never had.

Elizabeth certainly never did. She didn’t chance touching the stuff. That behavior was common, she had read, in children of alcoholics.

“Ashley?”

“I...have an appointment with a counselor today,” her sister confessed.

“That’s...good.” It was excellent, in fact. That showed Ashley was taking charge in an appropriate manner. If Elizabeth had the time, she’d delve into the how and where...check out this counselor and offer her sister medical advice.

Elizabeth glanced at her watch. In another minute the surgical nurses would be paging her. “Ashley, I really need to get to my next patient.”

Ashley’s thin shoulders straightened. She’d lost weight, Elizabeth noticed. “I’m leaving Brandon with you at the hospital today.”

“That isn’t possible.” The emotional response was elevating her pulse, but Elizabeth willed it away. “I have a full schedule of surgeries.”

“I know. I already talked to a nurse about the emergency child care program for employees that you have here.”

“You did?” Elizabeth said drily.

“Lisbeth, here is his insurance card and hospital ID.” Ashley shoved the patient cards at her. Then she tightened her jacket around her as if to close the pain inside. “Please kiss Brandon for me.” Her voice wavered. “And tell that lady ‘thank you’ for watching him while you and I talk.”