Siobhan's Beat (4 page)

Siobhan presented just such a case. An accident survivor in its truest sense, she was a faultless victim of circumstance. Despite bruises and abrasions she was lovely, too…and a dancer. Plus, this injured ballerina was blessed by a fierce protectorate of friends and family. That intrigued him, too. As a fellow believer, AJ admired their display of heart-felt faith and prayer. Those who comprised her closest circle were a spirited and impressive lot. Coop had seldom witnessed such solidarity of force, such unified energy of purpose. Folks could go on and on about a physician's healing abilities, but if, by God's grace, human beings could breathe life and healing into a body, those who surrounded Siobhan Douglas seemed bent on performing just such a miracle of love for their friend.

Witnessing that attitude in practice did a lot to affirm AJ's faith.

He nodded and smiled at a pair of nurses standing guard near their station. In passing, he greeted a patient of his who was on his way to being discharged following knee-replacement surgery. Following a brief chat, the elderly man was wheeled away by a volunteer in scrubs. Continuing on, AJ strode the hallway, looking forward to spending a few minutes with Siobhan.

All things considered, the last thing he expected to come upon when he entered her suite was the sound of weeping. Confused, he froze at the threshold, wanting to get a handle on what was happening before he barged in. These weren't the tears of a woman in physical pain. Years in orthopedics had taught him the difference between cries of pain, and cries that launched straight from the depths of a wounded soul. Siobhan's face was turned away, her sobs somewhat muffled by the pillow at her cheek. Scanning the room, he realized something else. For the first time since he had known her, Siobhan Douglas was alone.

He moved quietly toward the bed, closing the protective cover of his computer. He'd get to diagnosis and clinical details later. Touching her shoulder, he intended to keep her from jumping once she realized this moment was no longer private. The gesture turned into a brushstroke that swept him with an unfamiliar jolt. And in truth, it didn't help her stability very much because she gasped and used her free hand to cover her quivering mouth. She flicked away the tears that flowed against the flushed skin of her face, her motions sloppy and too hurried. AJ lifted a box of tissues from the portable table and handed it over. She snagged a few and avoided looking at him.

“Sorry,” she croaked.

“For what?”

“For blubbering. For being a wreck. This kind of outburst isn't typical for me, I assure you.”

AJ used the toe of his dress shoe to draw a small, padded rolling stool into position next to the bed. “You're not a wreck, Siobhan. You're injured and on the mend. Your body and your emotions are going to take you on a rollercoaster ride during the days and weeks to come.”

“Great. Something
else
to look forward to.” She scowled and smoothed her hands against the bed blankets. “Still, I'm sorry. This is embarrassing.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about, or to apologize for. You're going to need to give yourself some latitude, OK?” He sat on the stool and propped his forearms against the safety rail of the bed. “Furthermore, I'd be more worried if you tried to keep all of that emotion bottled up.”

She gathered a stuttered breath and finally looked in his direction. Amazing eyes. Clear, pure blue. So appealingly sweet…

He redirected at once. “What happened, Siobhan? What's making you cry?”

Her chin quaked. She bit her lips together, but tears began to flow all over again. She rolled her head to the side and blinked furiously.

“Stop hiding. You can talk to me.” He hoped a display of gentle assurance might beckon her forward.

Following a slight hesitation, she sighed heavily. “I don't understand. I don't understand how the God I love, the God I've always served, and rejoiced in, would break me…break me at a point when so many wonderful things were lined up to happen—for all of us. My friends and I had a clear-cut, seemingly ordained path to follow. We were going to do so many things. We were following a call that felt like it came straight from Him. Why? Why did He lead us so far only to have me ruin it all? Why did this happen?”

AJ didn't understand a lot of what she was saying—he knew no details of the pathways and wonderful things to come—but he understood a person in mourning, and he understood hopes and dreams being dashed. So, he didn't comment. He didn't offer prompt or dismissive forms of comfort, and he didn't interrupt. Rather, he allowed her to release, letting her anger roll, crest, and abate as she expelled the demons in her soul.

“It was all so close.”

“What was?”

“Dancing…dancing for the love of performance, and sharing beauty and music with an appreciative audience. I've always been faithful, and I've always been able to find God—even in the shadows—but I don't see Him here. I don't see how He can bring goodness out of this in any way. I just found out my best friend is getting married to my brother. Sisters in Spirit have been given a recording contract. There was going to be a tour, and I was going to dance. We were going to perform together, and celebrate our love for God…”

Sobs overwhelmed her all over again, the sure sign of a person at the end of their physical and mental endurance. Laying his hand against her long, slender forearm, AJ offered what calming presence he could. “Why can't that still happen? None of your injuries are permanent.”

The quiet interjection caused a flood of red to bloom against her cheeks. Bitterness and anger made the air vibrate. Her eyes snapped with fire. “Do I need to explain all the reasons why I won't be able to plan, choreograph, and rehearse a two-hour performance? Come on.
Look
at me.” The fire flared; then, the fire died. Almost immediately she wilted, rubbing her forehead while she groaned. “Oh, man. I'm sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“I've dealt with much worse. Don't worry about it. So, you're concerned about timing?”

Siobhan nodded. “Liam tells me the label, Zion's Peak, has already chosen the songs for the album. They want the girls in the studio immediately for rehearsals. Meanwhile, I was going to work with producers to start mapping out the show and my dance routines. You see, I don't sing. I just dance.”

“Don't say just.”

Siobhan stopped short; her eyes widened, then she smiled—with quivering lips, yes—but she smiled. “You sound just like Ailee. She's said much the same thing.” Another storm cloud rode through her eyes. “The executives at the record company wanted to showcase a pair of my dance numbers that they'd include as video additions to the CD. It would have been brilliant. Now, it's ruined. Because of me. Because of
this
.”

In a harsh gesture she indicated her fractured leg and thickly bound arm. Just like that, she fell victim to another teeter-totter of emotion. He wondered if he could somehow head it off…

“Sisters in Spirit is the name of your group?”

“Yes.”

He noticed she could barely choke the word; clearer understanding led him to a deeper sense of sadness for Siobhan. And witnessing her renewed tears burned a hole in his gut…left him to consider how it must feel to watch an angel weep.

“You won't be ready to dance in two months. There's just no way. But if you can get them to delay the process by an additional four to six weeks, I think—”

“I can't do that. This is all about momentum.”

AJ shook his head, not getting her meaning.

“Momentum is with us right now. We just played a sold-out engagement at the Westerville Theater. That's what won us the contract. Prior to that, the label put together CD's that we sold during the show, and there are none left. People responded. They were inspired by the message, and the style of the show. God seemed to be leading us to…I don't know…the fulfillment of a hunger that none of us even knew we had until we took to the stage together. There's still an audience out there looking for good music, elegance and fun; there are still people who want to find a hopeful message. So again, I ask why?”

AJ came aware of soft, dewy skin beneath his fingertips, and realized his hand remained tucked against her arm. When warmth moved through his body, he severed the connection at once. This was his
patient
…

“We're talking about four-and-a-half months here. At that point, if you push it, and if you're able, you might be recovered enough to put together a light dance sequence or two for the CD. You could even begin a round of rehearsals, as long as you pay attention to your body and the signals it gives you. We're not talking about a huge chunk of time here, just three or four months. Five would be best. If Zion's Peak is behind Sisters in Spirit the way it sounds, I believe you could fight for, and receive, that level of support. Don't you?”

Siobhan studied him. Once again, the impact of her eyes struck home. They were so open, and he could tell she was struggling hard to believe.

“But we haven't earned that kind of latitude. At this point, we're unproven.”

“After a sold-out show and strong CD sales? Not entirely.” He opened his computer and fought not to be drawn in all over again by a magnetic woman. “Plus, think about what you've just told me about audience response and the way the record company jumped at what you and your friends have to offer.”

Siobhan's eyes glittered. “I hear what you're saying, and I appreciate how sweet you're being, but...I'm just not as certain as you. I don't know much, but I do know the entertainment industry is about striking hard, and striking fast. What will happen now?”

“What's
meant
to happen.” He stopped in the process of logging on to the hospital network. “You may not see God in this moment, but He sees you. He knows you, and He's already got this covered. Hang on to that truth and you just might be surprised by where it leads.”

She nipped her lower lip, brows furrowed while she studied him. In the elongated silence that followed, AJ's pulse increased. He was comfortable sharing his beliefs with her. After all, Siobhan had been open and revealed herself. Returning that show of confidence felt good. He didn't get much of a chance to evangelize on the job or off, and his faith, much like solid bone structure, formed the posture of his life. A desire, an unfamiliar need for connection, spread outward from his chest.

But enough was enough. It was time to step back, reestablish his role as a physician and leave loneliness where it belonged—lurking against the farthest edge of his mind. Focused on his job, he accessed her chart. “So now, let's get down to business.”

“You're the doctor.”

Her comment bordered on playful, and left him to pause. Tomorrow afternoon she would be discharged. After that, he would only see her during a brief series of follow-up visits that would insure proper healing before the cast came off and she entered physical therapy. His work would soon be done, but he wondered. What would it feel like to see her—and relate to her—without professional boundaries in the way?

Most likely, he'd never find out, and that knowledge pressed against him oppressively.

 

****

 

What a remarkable man.

The thought worked through Siobhan's heart in a rush that warmed.

They had reviewed her latest progress markers. Now, she shifted beneath the bed covers and tilted her head just enough to watch him step to a nearby sink. She took him in as he spritzed his hands with sanitizing liquid. Broad shoulders flexed smoothly against the fabric of a snowy white lab coat. When he faced her once more, she glanced away, shy and unsettled. He had the most gorgeous blue eyes, a deep, soothing voice, and a demeanor that was compelling. He saw straight through her. That's part of what made her nervous all of a sudden. Most likely, she had said way too much, and precious few people had ever seen Siobhan Douglas in the throes of a full-blown meltdown. Now she felt exposed. Vulnerable.

Doctor Cooper returned to her bed and began to slowly move the covers away from her left leg. At once Siobhan flinched and looked away.

“Are you OK? Did I hurt you?”

“No, it's not that. It's just...I...I hate seeing it.”

Those remarkable eyes went soft and gentle. “Understandable. But remember Siobhan, you're an athlete. The bruises you see right now will disappear. The wounds will heal and the scars will fade. You'll recover. You'll make it, as long as you're willing to face recovery head on. That'll be the tougher battle.”

Following the disclaimer, he discreetly moved the edge of her gown, revealing her calf and lower thigh. Bandaged wounds and bare skin were now exposed to the cool air of the suite. Siobhan trembled.

When she looked down, devastation pounded at her all over again. A pattern of massive, ugly bruises coursed a purplish, gray-brown stain down her leg and ended where a white cast began just below the knee. That much she could handle. However, dissecting the bruises and forming lines along her thigh were cuts that bubbled angrily straight down to her knee and the now hidden spot where she knew her broken bone was forced into careful and delicate alignment. Her chin quaked but she firmed her jaw in retaliation. Her eyes stung but she blinked hard and fast, refusing to let tears fall. Utilizing a power honed by years of controlled motion, she trembled against the tension of a body held relentlessly in check. Overly taut muscles and strained posture only intensified her pain. Siobhan's entire left side was on fire; her head swirled as her body began to rebel. The nightmare of her new reality returned with sharp, snapping teeth.

“I still have the dance studio, I suppose.” Slump shouldered she whispered the words while Doctor Cooper began his exam. “Well, I
had
the dance studio. Instructing will be problematic.” She pictured excited and eager young ones, and the skilled pre-teens already in full-prep mode for the annual spring recital just four short months away.