Another Chance (16 page)

"You'll be careful, won't you?"

The answering nod came very quickly.  Jillian smiled.  "Then I don't see why you can't do that."

Content to have some task to make her feel useful, Annabelle released her father's hand and shuffled to the end of the couch.  Jillian watched as the child slowly rolled the sock off Wade's foot.

"I didn't wake him.  That means I didn't hurt him, right?"

"Right.  That was a good job, Annabelle."

With his daughter now calm and reassured, Jillian focused on Wade.  Though not schooled in human medicine, she knew the basics of what to do and began by turning Wade's head to face her.  His cheek was bristly in her palm but it wasn't an unpleasant feeling.  In fact, there was something unexpectedly pleasant about the abrasive scrape of his beard.

Eileen came back and placed a bowl of water at her feet, handed Jillian a clean cloth.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

Jillian reached out and squeezed her friend's hand.  It was cold as ice.  "There's really nothing more I need until I can get him cleaned up.  Why don't you go for a walk?  I won't be too long."

Eileen nodded, her lower lip held hostage between her teeth.  James stepped back into the room and lit a lantern, placing it on the small table beside the couch.  Though it was daylight yet, the extra brightness was needed to clearly see how bad the gash was.

"I figured you might need one," he shrugged when Jillian smiled at him.

"I do, thank you.  I could also use a chair."

After he'd brought her one she said, "Now, really, why you don't you get some fresh air."

"We won't wander far," James said.

"Truly, I don't think it's more than a cut and some bruises."

James, at least, was no longer pale and he seemed to believe her.  "Come on, Button, let's leave Miz Matthews room to work."

"No!  I don't wanna go!"

"Annabelle, it won't be for long and-"

"No!  Miss Matthews promised I could stay!"  Fresh tears threatened to fall.

"She's right, I did," Jillian assured them before they could argue.  "And she's fine where she's at."

"Then we'll leave you to it.  Come on, Eileen."  James took her hand and they stepped outside.

Once the door clicked shut, Jillian took her seat and dipped the cloth in the bowl.  Warm water washed over her hand.  As gently as possible, she brought the cloth to his face.  In tender strokes, she washed the blood from his cheek.

He remained asleep and for that Jillian was thankful.  Bathing his face was far more intimate than anything she'd done and her inexperience in this area had her flushing.  She felt the burn of it as she slid the cloth over his cheekbone.  He had strong cheekbones and an equally firm jaw line and they both intrigued her.  She liked the way his skin darkened where his beard grew.  Enjoyed the way the cloth scraped the stubble.  Both had her stomach fluttering.

Jillian knew she was lingering at the task more than she should but it was like she'd told everyone else, his coloring and breathing was good and she wasn't worried.  She'd never had such an opportunity and though her hand trembled and her heart hammered, she was enjoying herself.  And it wasn't as though her bathing his face would lead to anything.  She was in Cedar Springs to work.  Only work, she repeated as she brushed his face once more.

"Do you think he likes you washing him?" Annabelle asked.

Jillian's hand jerked.  Annabelle had been so quiet Jillian had forgotten she was there.  Hoping Annabelle hadn't realized how much she'd been enjoying herself, Jillian reminded herself she was here in the role as physician, and nothing else.  Absolutely nothing.

"I know when I wash an animal who's been hurt, they seem to enjoy it.  I think the warm water and a gentle hand reassures them, lets them know I'm not going to hurt them."

"And you wouldn't hurt my papa either."

"No, Annabelle," Jillian answered with absolute certainty, "I'd never hurt your papa."

Jillian rinsed the cloth.  The water turned red.  When the rest of his face was clean, she moved to the gash that cut across his temple.  He flinched, hissed in a breath.  Opened his eyes.

"Jillian?"  His voice was low and confused.

"Papa!" Annabelle cried.

He moved his head, grimaced when he did.  "Hi, Button."

"Are you all better now?"

"Better?" his brows creased and then smoothed out as he remembered.  "I'm sure I'll be fine.  I'm sorry if I scared you."

"Grandma and James wanted me to go outside but Jillian said I could I stay.  Is it okay that I stayed?"

"I'm glad you did, Button."  He rolled his head Jillian's way.  Jillian took the curve of his mouth to be his thanks.

"She needed to be with you," she said simply.

The room had been warm before but suddenly it was stifling.  Since distraction had worked on Annabelle, she decided to use the same trick with the girl's father.

"You have a nasty cut on your forehead.  I couldn't see how bad it was with all that blood.  I was about to have a closer look when you woke up."  She leaned closer, much too aware of his moist breath on her neck.  "Well.  Um.  It looks like you'll need a few stitches."  She leaned away but the heat from his breath continued to scorch her neck.  "I'm not sure about your ankle, though, as I haven't had a chance to look at it yet."

His eyes continued to hold Jillian's for a few long beats, then he shifted them back to his daughter.  "See, Button, I'm going to be okay."

Despite the words, her chin trembled.  "Can I give you a hug now?" she asked, her small voice cracking.

Tears stung Jillian's eyes.  She herself had had that kind of relationship with her father and in that moment, she missed it desperately.  She dropped the cloth in the bowl.

"I'll go get some clean water.  Here, Annabelle, you can sit in my place."

She gave them plenty of time, even taking a moment to step outside where she found James, Eileen and Scott lingering on the porch.  After reassuring them that Wade was awake and talking, James and Scott thanked her, then went back to work.  Eileen, being a mother, rushed inside to see for herself.

***

"Ma, quit hovering!"

She hadn't stopped touching him since she'd run into the parlor.  First his hair, then his cheek.  At the moment she held his hand in a vise.

"I was worried.  I'm your mother; I'm allowed to be worried."

He sighed.  Why argue?  "Well, as you can see I'm fine now."

"But Papa, you're still bleeding," Annabelle pointed out.

Though the wound was bleeding, it was a slow, sticky trickle.  He wiped it away with his hand.

"It's just a cut, it'll heal.  Remember how your knees healed after you fell in the yard that time you were racing Jacob?"

"But I had to beat him!"

Wade chuckled.  Annabelle and Jacob were always racing.  At the rate they were going, neither one would have any skin on their knees by the time they turned ten.

"And you would have, if you hadn't fallen.  But even though you scraped them up good, they healed didn't they?"

"Yes, Papa."

"And I will too.  Now how about if you help Grandma with some oatmeal cookies?  I'm sure they'll help me get better much faster."

Her blue eyes sparkled like sunshine off a rippling creek. "Come Grandma, let's make Papa some cookies!"

His mother poked her index finger into his chest.  "Don't you ever scare me like that again."

He grinned.  "I love you too, Ma."

"Oh, go on!"  She swatted him lightly on the shoulder, sniffed and left the room.

Jillian came in as his mother and daughter were walking out.  With a roll of his eyes, he heard her reassure his mother one more time that he was fine then ask for sewing supplies, since she hadn't brought her bag along.  She also promised Annabelle, after some rather determined begging on his daughter's part, that she'd stay afterward for a cookie.  Hearing his daughter squeal with excitement after having seen the fear and sadness in her eyes eased his mind.  Poor thing must have been so scared, thinking she'd lose her father.

When he'd first felt the warm cloth and gentle strokes, he'd been content to relax under the gentle ministrations, to give himself up to the soothing caress.  It wasn't until the touch brushed the wound that he'd felt pain and realized he wasn't dreaming.

Still, he'd expected to see his mother upon opening his eyes and it had taken him a moment to comprehend that Jillian was there.  When had she gotten there?  How long had he been out cold?  But then fully understanding that it had been her hands on him--if only his face--he'd wished he could have gone back and enjoyed her touch all over again.  Which, considering that he'd already vowed not only to his mother but also to himself that he wasn't interested in Jillian, made him wonder just how hard he'd smacked his head.

Jillian placed the bowl at her feet and soon afterward his mother returned with a bottle of whiskey, needle, thread, and scissors.

He watched silently as she cut a length of thread, then soaked both it and needle in whiskey.  Just as he'd noticed the night of the surgery, he saw that she had delicate hands, hands more suitable to another profession than the one she'd chosen.

"Did you ever consider being a nurse?"

"No."

"Because you wanted to follow in your father's footsteps?"

"Because animals don't talk," she answered with a twinkle in her eye.  Then, with a soft laugh that hit him square in the gut, she proceeded to thread her needle.

Wade eyed the needle.  This wasn't the first time he'd needed to be sewn up, but he hated needles almost as much as he hated heights.

"Where did you put the whiskey?"

Jillian handed him the bottle and he raised it to his lips, took a long swallow.

"I'm ready when you are," he said, passing her the bottle.

Being poked with a needle wasn't what Wade would call pleasant.  It sure as heck wasn't as nice as having her bathe him with a warm cloth.  Yet he couldn't think of a place he'd rather be.  Lying on his side, with Jillian leaning over him to stitch, left him in the very enviable position of having her breast inches from his face.  His eyes fixated on it like a moth to a lantern.  The generous, soft curve of it tempted him until he figured he'd surely go to Hell for the thoughts he was having.

What if he leaned forward a bit, let her breast brush his mouth?  What if he opened his lips, drew the hard tip into his mouth.  Of course it would be even better if it wasn't hidden behind her dress, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd taken a woman's dress off.

Damnation!  What was he doing?  Without thinking Wade jerked back.

"Ow!" he yelled when the thread pulled on his wound.

"Don't move!"  Jillian scolded.  Then she leaned a little closer and Wade had to close his eyes.  He couldn't keep looking at her without having such thoughts, without smelling her warm skin and wondering what it would taste like.

Why was it so blasted hot in here? he wondered when sweat beaded his forehead.

"Are you almost finished?"  Even to his own ears, his voice sounded strained.

"I was about to cut the thread when you moved," she said, the admonishment in her voice was unmistakable.

A few more tortured seconds passed as she snipped the thread.  Then--finally--the sweet, tempting smell of her eased and he was able to breathe again.

"Sorry, this will hurt."

She took the whiskey and poured a little over the sutures.  He flinched at the burn but was grateful it gave him something else to think about besides her body and what thinking about it was doing to his own.

She dabbed at the liquid that ran from the sutures.  "Now I'm done."

He opened his eyes, took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, I know that hurt." While he was still battling to control himself, he felt the much cooler cloth once again sweep over his face.  It felt too good to do anything but lie there and let her wash him.  Of course it also prevented his body from forgetting what it had been two years without.

He caught her wrist.  Her gaze reflected everything he was feeling: surprise, uncertainty.  Desire.

Hellfire.

"I'm fine now, Jillian."

Wade felt less vulnerable sitting up.  But as the blood rushed down, his ankle started throbbing.  He tried to move it, grimaced as a stab of pain ricocheted up his calf.

"Do you want me to have a look?"

Not a hope in hell, he thought.  He was barely keeping himself tethered as it was.  If she put those hands on him once more he wasn't going to be able to fight it any longer.

"Nah.  I've wasted enough of your time.  Besides, I don't think it's broken."

"Be sure to keep it wrapped, then.  And keep it up as much as you can."

Oh, hell, Wade thought as he met those deep green eyes, keeping it up certainly wasn't proving to be a problem so far.  Even the pans clanging from the kitchen reminding him there were others nearby didn't ease his need.