Hadrian's Wall (5 page)

I think he realized what was happening or
maybe the shock hit him the same way, because he quickly let me go;
however, instead of leaving, he slowly turned towards me as if
compelled by some unseen force. The expression on his face was one
of extreme concentration. His eyes bored into me.

A sudden tension took hold of my muscles, as
if those hypnotic eyes were radiating imminent danger, for lack of
a better word. I had the impression that danger was part of
his nature.

I’m definitely going crazy! My sighting of
the winged creature proves it.

“How do you feel now, Melissa Baker?” Adrian
asked in a whisper, his lips just inches from my face. His breath
tickled my cheek.

Hearing his voice say my name was like a
balm, soothing away all my bad feelings, like something I hadn’t
understood had been put in the wrong place, but now everything was
in the right place. Regardless of any hidden nature, the essence of
that voice was benign—I knew could trust him.

“Sick,” I answered.

Suddenly, I felt tired. My whole body ached
as if I’d been beaten; however, my ribs were surprisingly intact. I
ran my hand across my forehead and noticed I was sweaty and stinky.
Yuck! Why did Adrian always appear when I looked my worst? It’s not
fair!

Adrian frowned. Oh great! Overall, I was an
aberration. I probably should be included in a scientific
compendium so that my case could be presented at medical
conferences around the country...perhaps around the world! I
giggled. What a way to become famous!

Although he was probably confused about my
inappropriate humor, Adrian smiled. “What?” he asked, pulling my
blanket up to my chin in a protective gesture.

He had the most beautiful smile I’d ever
seen. For a moment I had trouble thinking coherently. What came
next I could only attribute to my brain short-circuiting.

“You left me,” I
complained, realizing that
it sounded like
an accusation, I wanted the ground to open up beneath my bed and
swallow me. Why can’t I be like the sophisticated girls he knows?
I’ll bet they take situations like this in stride. They must be
experts on how to hold a man’s attention. Today, any girl can do
that because there are no limitations.

The truth is that this was
the first time I was interested in such things—dating a boy,
flirting...
blah, blah, blah!
I had never had a fulminating attraction for
someone. Apprehensive about the possible—and probable—rejection by
him, I waited for his reaction.

Suddenly, Adrian gave me a broad smile and
his eyes lit up behind the shaded lenses. For the first time since
he’d approached my bed, he seemed genuinely relaxed, as if he found
my idiotic statement delightful. Of course, I could not have been
more obvious about my interest in him. Male egos...men are all
alike.

“Yes, I was out. I’m a busy resident,
Melissa Baker. I’m sure you know that medicine is not easy,” he
answered casually.

I noticed that the other doctors had moved
away and were intently inspecting some documents. Thank God!

“That’s really not fair,” I said, looking at
him askance. Wow! I’d never behaved like this before. Was it the
after effects of medication? I really was flirting with him, wasn’t
I?

There it is again...that arrogant smile.
Male egos. Humpf!

I had the impression that Adrian’s eyes had
narrowed slightly while he scrutinized me, probably like he does
the cadavers in his anatomy classes. I felt exactly like those dead
people feel in front of all of the academics—naked!

“What exactly do you mean?” he asked me.

“Melissa Baker,” I said, trying to imitate
how he usually said my name. Despite my poor imitation, he
understood and laughed heartily.

The others looked at us as if they’d never
heard him laugh before. They were visibly surprised.

“Adrian Cahill,” he introduced himself. His
lips curved in a half smile. He tried not make fun of me when he
pointed to his identification tag.

Ah...the name tag. How stupid I am! I could
not look at something else when his gorgeous face was in front of
me. Liar! You always look at his wonderful body too! I was
uncomfortable with the direction my thoughts were taking.

“Of course, that is it, your name tag. Wow!
Sure...I guess I’ve been preoccupied lately,” I said aloud,
justifying my omission to myself more than to him.

He turned serious again. My comment should
have made him remember why they sedated me. “Did the malaise begin
when you found your suitcase?”

I sighed before answering. I’d been doing
that a lot lately. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll ask to Bernice take it away
immediately.”

“No, please!” I grabbed his hand.

An electrical surge made my fingertips
tingle. I could have sworn that his hand trembled too. My eyes
focused on the point where our hands touched and then moved up to
meet his eyes. His had followed the same trajectory. We could not
have synchronized our movements any better if we’d been following a
script. The director can yell “Cut!” any time.

I was the first to break
eye contact. I looked around, trying to remember what we’d been
talking about. What was it? Ah, yes...
my
suitcase
. “Where is it?”

Adrian pointed with his chin. “Inside the
closet.”

“Leave it. I want to see what’s inside. I
heard Dr. Barringer say that I must face my fears. If it can help
me remember, I’m willing to try.”

“But not now!” Adrian objected, his voice
rising a decibel. It surprised me because he’d never displayed any
temper before—at least not that I’d witnessed.

“Obviously, you will not do so alone.” His
tone of voice told me that no further discussion would be allowed.
Hmm... Adrian Cahill was proving to be very bossy for a mere
resident physician. Imagine what he’ll be like when he becomes the
chief physician or surgeon...he’ll be a tyrant!

I looked to the psychiatrist for his
reaction. He understood and nodded. Adrian followed our exchange of
glances with obvious annoyance. His face became expressionless—a
mask carved in marble. Whatever he was thinking, it was impossible
to discern.

It was with regret that I observed our
spontaneity disappear. Adrian moved away a little, but continued
staring me with inscrutable eyes. Intuition told me, “Be prudent.”
After all, I was dealing with a considerate, handsome,
sophisticated, and very proud man.

“Dr. Cahill is absolutely right,” Dr.
Barringer said, his glance at Adrian a mixture of irony and
warning. “Maybe later, with a nurse present, you can open your
suitcase, but only after you have recovered, okay?”

“But I’m dying to see what’s inside of it,”
I argued, looking at the clothes that Bernice had acquired for me—a
loan from the hospital’s donations staff who would be taking them
to a shelter in Saint Paul, a nearby town in Celtic County, much
like Hadrian’s Wall. Bernice had done me a big favor because she
knew I didn’t want to be seen walking through the wards wearing one
of the hospital’s gray, standard issue gowns. If I could have my
own clothes, I’d no longer have to wear borrowed things.

The donated clothes had been folded and
placed on the chair next to where Adrian was standing. When I drew
his attention to them, he quickly turned to look at me. I could
tell that he was upset. I think it was the first time he’d really
paid attention to me, which was good...and bad! Bad because at that
moment I was wearing the goddamn hospital gown, which meant that
before our conversation, it had made no difference to him what I
was wearing; but, now that we had talked, it was good
because...well...there was nothing good about it—unless Adrian was
the type who really didn’t notice what people were wearing. Given
the look on his face, I figured that to him I looked like a sack of
potatoes in a burlap bag. Suddenly, I was angry. The borrowed
clothes were not so bad that he should seem shocked and
contrary.

“You should be feeling uncomfortable because
you have been wearing clothes inappropriate for your size,” he
said. His pained, concerned voice disarmed me.

“I’m not. It’s alright. I just like to wear
different things from time to time, maybe wash them once in
awhile,” I joked. “Nurse Bernice has been very kind to me.”

“She really deserves our thanks,” he agreed,
sounding a little distracted, as if he’d missed something important
he should not have missed.

I yawned involuntarily. Adrian smiled and
stroked my hair. “Nap time.”

My face fell. “Are you leaving me
again?”

“I’ll be back,” he said, giving me a small
smile. He was in good humor again. That’s good.

Adrian walked towards the door; however, to
say “walked” was a poor definition to describe the way he moved. I
heaved another sigh. To me he was the living embodiment of an
Apollo statue...No, no, no! He looked more like the version of the
bronze statue of the god Helios. I’d seen a computer-generated
animation on a history program that I’d watched on television. That
statue had come to life before my eyes.

It was inevitable that I would compare the
“three lab coats.” Adrian is the tallest, although the other two
could not even remotely be classified as short. Adrian is
highlighted by his magnetic aura. I’m not sure how to define him,
but there’s something about him that makes it impossible to ignore
his presence wherever he goes. He is one of those rare
personalities who changes the environment wherever they happen to
be.

Dr. Talbot and Dr. Barringer turned and
followed Adrian out the door. Wait a minute! Something’s wrong with
this picture. Think, Melissa. The physicians are walking behind the
resident physician. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

I needed to revise my impressions about the
weird things that I had seen so far—or thought I’d seen in the
Caledonia General Hospital. Maybe all were the product of my
over-active imagination. At any moment, I could wake up and realize
that I still was lying in my old bed inside the orphanage in
Dailey’s Crossing.

Adrian Cahill doesn’t exist. No,
really...

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, the afternoon
was almost over. I looked at the clock and realized that I had
“blacked out” for about five hours. I got up slowly and walked to
the huge window. The curtains were partially drawn, so I opened
them, bathing the room in the warm, gold and orange light of the
setting sun.

The sun was like a fireball, resting on the
horizon of Bluewater Lake, whose gentle waves glowed brightly as
the sun’s last rays passed over them before disappearing. From my
window I could see part of the park and the harbor surrounding a
magnificent building. It was very similar to the picture of a
Spanish monastery that I saw in a magazine a long time ago. Bernice
told me that it was The Bluewater Club—a social club attended by
the local elite.

I heard a knock at the door before a girl
entered, loaded down with bags. She blew through the door like a
typhoon.

“Whew! What a hassle!” she said,
unceremoniously dumping her bags on the bed, then turned to me, out
of breath.

For a moment I was stunned. I looked at the
bags and then at her, trying to understand what it all meant. I had
only enough time to realize that the beautiful, very blonde, very
made up young woman seemed a little nervous.

“You must be Melissa,” she said, extending
her hand to me, but then she withdrew it before I could greet her.
She wore a lot of bracelets that jingled with her incessant
gesticulations. “I’m Charity Cahill. Someone told me that there was
a girl in trouble here, so Voila! Here I am, your savior!

Cahill? She did not even remotely resemble
Adrian. If he was the kind of serious, intense male, then this girl
was a ditsy porcelain doll with a delicate, romantic face. He was
modern, discreet, and unpretentious, while she was quite the
opposite with her retro style, characterized by ruffles, bows, and
glitter. If he was controlled and restrained, she was impulsive and
bumbling—water versus wine...night versus day. Aerodynamics versus
Baroque. Eagle versus peacock. Congratulations, girl! This time,
you have excelled in metaphors.

The only thing Adrian and Charity had in
common was their skin, which was the color of ivory, but that
wasn’t enough to establish any kinship. Dr. Talbott and Dr.
Barringer were pale, but of course, there were other visible
differences: Adrian’s hair was black with bluish reflections when
the light shone on him. Charity’s hair was platinum blonde—cut in a
Veronica Lake style. Well, that didn’t mean anything. One of them,
maybe both of them dyed their hair, but Adrian didn’t strike me as
the metro-sexual type—the kind of guy who’s concerned with
aesthetics and everything else. I don’t think he dyed his hair. I
don’t think doctors have much spare time for such things. Moreover,
nobody could be as naturally blonde as Charity. Considering all
that—and that everything seemed to be making my head swim, I
doubted that they were related.

But if she wasn’t Adrian’s sister, she could
only be...his wife! My heart missed a beat and then accelerated.
Had I missed something? How could I have failed to notice a wedding
ring? I should have paid more attention! Charity was probably here
to let me know that my inappropriate flirtation with her husband
had not gone unnoticed. My God!

“My friends and my cousin Adrian call me
‘CC.’”

Cousin. That word had never seemed
so...fascinating. Cousin. So he wasn’t married—or was he? To have a
cousin doesn’t mean there is no Mrs. Cahill, nor does it prevent
the existence of girlfriends.

“You can call me ‘CC’ too, if you like,” she
said, nonchalantly opening the bags. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll become
good friends.”