Linda Howard - Come Lie With Me

But she couldn’t tolerate a man’s touch.

That night had effectively prevented her from marrying and having a family. Since that part of life was denied her, she ignored it, and never cried for what might have been. Instead she became a vagabond of sorts, traveling around the country and helping other people. While she was on a case she had an intense relationship full of love and caring, but without any sexual overtones. She loved her patients, and, inevitably, they loved her…while it lasted. They became her family, until the day when it was over and she left them with a smile on her face, ready to continue on to her next case and her next “family.”

She had wondered, when she began her training, if she would ever be able to work with a man at all. The problem worried her until she decided that, if she couldn’t, she would be handicapping her career terribly and made up her mind to do what was necessary. The first time she worked with a man she’d had to grit her teeth and use all her considerable determination to make herself touch him, but after a few minutes she had realized that a man who needed therapy obviously wasn’t in any shape to be attacking her. Men were human beings who needed help, just like everyone else.

She preferred working with children, though. They loved so freely, so wholeheartedly. A child’s touch was the one touch she could tolerate; she had learned to enjoy the feel of little arms going about her neck in a joyous hug. If there was one regret that sometimes refused to go away, it was the regret that she would never have children of her own. She controlled it by channeling extra devotion into her efforts for the children she worked with, but deep inside her was the need to have someone of her own, someone who belonged to her and who she belonged to, a part of herself.

Suddenly a muffled sound caught her attention, and she lifted her head from the pillow, waiting to see if it was repeated. Blake? Had he called out?

There was nothing but silence now, but she couldn’t rest until she had made certain that he was all right. Getting out of bed, she slipped on her robe and walked silently to the room next door. Opening the door enough to look inside, she saw him lying in the same position he’d been in before. She was about to leave when he tried to roll onto his side, and when his legs didn’t cooperate, he made the same sound she’d heard before, a half sigh, half grunt.

Did no one ever think to help him change his position? she wondered, gliding silently into the room on her bare feet. If he’d been lying on his back for two years, no wonder he had the temperament of a water buffalo.

She didn’t know if he were awake or not; she didn’t think so. Probably he was just trying to change positions as people do naturally during sleep. The light in the hallway wasn’t on now, since everyone was in bed, and in the dim starlight coming through the glass doors she couldn’t see well enough to decide. Perhaps, if he were still asleep, she could gently adjust his position without his ever waking up. It was something she did for most of her patients, a gesture of concern that they usually never realized.

First she touched his shoulder lightly, just placing her hand on him and letting his subconscious become accustomed to the touch. After a moment she applied a little pressure and he obeyed it, trying to roll to his right side, facing her. Gently, slowly, she helped him, moving his legs so they didn’t hold him back. With a soft sigh he burrowed his face into the pillow, his breathing becoming deeper as he relaxed.

Smiling, she pulled the sheet up over his shoulder and returned to her room.

Blake wasn’t like her other patients. Still lying awake over an hour later, she tried to decide why she was so determined to make him walk again. It wasn’t just her normal devotion to a patient; in some way she didn’t yet understand, it was important to her personally that he once again become the man he had been. He had been such a strong man, a man so vibrantly alive that he was the center of attention wherever he went. She knew that. She had to restore him to that.

He was so near to death. Richard had been correct in saying that he wouldn’t live another year the way he was. Blake had been willing himself to die. She had gotten his attention that morning with her shock tactics, but she had to keep it until he could actually see himself progressing, until he realized that he could recover. She would never be able to forgive herself if she failed him.

She finally slept for about two hours, rising before dawn with a restless anticipation driving her. She would have loved to run on the beach, but Phoenix didn’t have a beach, and she didn’t know the grounds well enough to go trotting around them in the dark. For all she knew Blake had attack dogs patrolling at night. But despite her lack of sleep she was brimming with energy. She tried to burn off some of it by doing a brisk routine of exercises, but the shower she took afterward so refreshed her that she felt she was ready to tackle the world. Well, at least Blake Remington!

It was even earlier than it had been the morning before when she gave in to her enthusiasm and bounded into his room, snapping on the light as she did, because it was still dark.

“Good morning,” she chirped.

He was still on his side; he opened one blue eye, surveyed her with an expression of horror, then uttered an explicit word that would have gotten his mouth washed out with soap if he’d been younger. Dione grinned at him.

“Are you ready to start?” she asked innocently.

“Hell, no!” he barked. “Lady, it’s the middle of the night!”

“Not quite. It’s almost dawn.”

“Almost? How close to almost?”

“In just a few minutes,” she soothed, then ruined it by laughing as she threw the covers off him. “Don’t you want to see the sunrise?”

“No!”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport,” she coaxed, swinging his legs off the bed. “Watch the sunrise with me.”

“I don’t want to watch the sunrise, with you or anyone else,” he snarled. “I want to sleep!”

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