The Wish List (16 page)

“You don’t need me anymore,” she said suddenly, as if she had just realized that for herself. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. For some time I’ve known you were getting close. Then today, watching the way you handled that kite string with such unconscious grace, it was clear...well, it’s absolutely obvious that you’ve arrived, Dr. Murphy. Or at least...almost arrived. You’ll have to ease back into things, I’m sure.”

“So my dream of being a world-renowned sculptor will take longer than I planned, I suppose.” It was a small attempt at levity, one Faith appreciated since she seemed alarmingly close to something that felt like tears. Too bad. She wasn’t going to allow herself even a single teardrop. She couldn’t let her mixed feelings show.

“Do—do you like sculpting then?” she asked. “I never knew.”

“Never even tried it,” he whispered. Stepping close, he took the hand that she was nervously twisting around the back of a chair. “I only meant that I’m not quite ready to open people up and solve their medical problems yet, am I, Faith? So, how can you be totally sure that I don’t need you?”

She opened her mouth, waiting to push back the lump in her throat before she spoke. “I’m totally sure,” she managed in a voice that should have been stronger. “The little bit of ground you have yet to cover will happen. It’s just a matter of time and continuing on with your exercises. In the meantime, you’re more than ready to return to work on a limited basis, consulting and so forth, doing the prep work for what will soon follow. I wasn’t lying. You really don’t need me anymore.”

“So we’re ending things tonight, then?” Nathan’s voice was tight, his grip on her hand like an iron band—not painful, but unyielding. “Cold turkey, huh?”

~ ~ ~

Nathan watched Faith. Her dismayed expression at his words made his heart clench. But at least she wasn’t wearing that steady, practiced therapist smile, the one that held him a broomstick’s length away. The one that told him she was overjoyed. She’d finally accomplished what she’d set out to do, and was finally getting him out of her hair.

Well, what did he expect? She’d made it clear from the first that he was not a patient she wanted to take on. There was no reason for her to feel the way he was right now, as if something were twisting deep inside of him, tightening painfully. As if panic were about to explode in his chest.

Taking a long, deep breath, Nathan pulled himself up straight. Hell, what was he thinking? This was what he wanted, what he’d waited for, too. If the bright burst of ecstatic relief hadn’t come yet, it was only because he hadn’t been ready and waiting for it. It would come in time. Soon he’d wake up and realize that he finally had what he’d wanted from the start.

“Cold turkey, Nathan?” Faith was saying. Her voice was soft, confused, maybe even hurt. “No, no, of course I didn’t mean, I
don’t
mean for it to be that way. We’ll spend the rest of this week getting you prepared for a return to your life and your career. I’ll make sure you know what you need to do in order to be one hundred percent effective when you step into the operating arena. I wouldn’t desert you, Nathan, without making sure that you were really ready.”

Her apologetic look, and the way he’d wiped that smile off of her face so readily, made Nathan feel like kicking himself. He was being a jerk to her again when he ought to be kissing Faith’s feet. She’d come to him against her will, and managed to save his career. She’d given him something to occupy his mind other than the torturous thoughts that had almost destroyed him. How selfish could a man be, wanting her to regret ending things? Hell, wasn’t this what he’d wanted her to do, what he’d demanded she do? Get things over with as quickly as possible.

“Faith.” He clutched the hands that she was holding out in supplication. “Faith, damn it. Stop apologizing to me. I sure as hell don’t merit that. Besides, haven’t you learned by now not to listen to anything I say? Don’t you know what a bear I am? I’ve said so damn many unkind things to you. Too many. But a minute ago, when I made that crack about you sending me off cold turkey—I was joking Faith, just joking. And badly, too. Believe me, I would never, ever accuse you of being anything but the best therapist in the world. You brought me around in spite of the fact that I fought you till you practically had your back up against the wall. When no one else other than Dan was willing to stand up to me, you did—only you. So don’t think I’m being critical. I’m just adjusting, that’s all, getting used to the thought of being physically whole.”

“And you’re happy?” she asked, staring up at him wide-eyed and anxious.

Hell no, he wasn’t happy. He’d probably never really know the true meaning of that word again. But he knew that she wasn’t referring to his personal life, just his reaction to the fact that she was giving him the green light, sending him back to the career that had once meant everything to him.

“I’m happy,” he said. It was a lie, a monster of a lie, but that was just because he hadn’t had time to adjust, Nathan reasoned. In a few days, when he’d had time to assimilate the truth, when he realized that he was finally free and clear of Faith Reynolds and her little imp of a son—free of all the temptation they held—he was going to be insanely happy. At last the weight of Faith’s presence was going to be lifted from his life.

“I’m happy,” he repeated. “Thanks to you. So...if today isn’t the end, when exactly are we severing the cord that binds us, Faith? When are we calling a halt to this thing once and for all?”

Faith hesitated, bit her lip. “We’ll—let’s plan on Friday,” she said, her smile back in place. “That will give us time to wind things down and make sure that there are no loose strands.”

“Friday...” The end of the week, the logical choice. “Make it Saturday and you’ve got yourself a deal.” Nathan couldn’t believe what he’d just said. There was no reason to press this thing further. He’d be much better off once he’d concluded this episode in his life. Besides, Faith
never
saw him on the weekends.

“Saturday?” Faith tipped her head back and looked up at him, her aqua eyes suddenly concerned. She worried the soft pad of her lip with her teeth. God, he wished she wouldn’t do that, wished she’d paste the too bright smile back on her lips. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Nathan. Why?”

Nathan stepped nearer, closed his mind to good sense, and even managed a smile of his own. “Faith...don’t question the inevitable. You told me once that gratitude was quite common between patient and therapist. If that’s so, and this is the end of our road together, then I want one opportunity to show you my appreciation. These are my hands you’ve given me, not a small thing. Besides, I’ve promised Cory one more outing—it’s just something simple, Faith. So don’t look so worried. I’m not going to embarrass you.”

“I wasn’t thinking that—but I’m not sure—”

“Shh.” He stepped forward so that he was up against her heart, so that she was tucked into the cove of his body. Silently he threaded his fingers through her hair, something he’d been wanting to do from the first. He wouldn’t kiss her, not tonight. He wouldn’t worry her again. But he had to feel these silky threads just once before it was all over and done.

“A simple outing, Faith. With you. With Cory. I started it all so wrong, pushing you around. I want to end it right. This will be our last time together. Let’s end it with a bang, just the way we started things. Let me be grateful, Faith. Let me do this one thing.”

Gently he touched his lips to her hair. It wasn’t a kiss, not really, he told himself. Even though he felt the sigh slip through her body. Even though she was so soft and close against him that she felt like a part of him, her heart echoing the too-fast rhythm of his own.

“Nathan,” she whispered, in a voice that shook with emotion. No, he told himself, that was just his imagination. He was projecting his own feelings onto her, making believe that this was as much of a wrench in her life as it was in his.

In a few weeks when they would pass each other in the hospital, it would be as if this time had never existed—for either of them. That was the way it should be, friendly, impersonal, not with him wanting to hold her, touch her, make love to her.

Abruptly he released her, half prepared to tell her to forget his suggestion. Making their last time together something special would be a mistake. It would make the adjustment period longer and more difficult.

He looked down at her, and for a fleeting moment thought that he saw pain. Closing his eyes, he tamped down the fear that flooded through him. Of course, he had been mistaken. She was probably just feeling put-upon because he’d been touching her again when he’d once said he wouldn’t. He couldn’t bear to think he had hurt this woman in any way. It was important to him that he leave her untouched, unscathed by his presence. It was why he’d fought so hard against her, why he fought so hard against himself to keep from touching her when all he really wanted to do was hold her, rain kisses down her throat, take her to his bed for long, slow hours of lovemaking.

The thought made him blanch. This whole idea had been crazy, foolish. He couldn’t even stand next to her without visions of her naked beneath him, touching him, letting him touch her. One day more would only make things worse. Opening his mouth, Nathan prepared to take back everything he’d said and tell her that Friday would be fine, that they could call it quits tonight. Surely Dan could tell him everything he needed to know.

Faith suddenly rose up on her toes. She nodded, hard, cutting off his thoughts. “We’ll end on Saturday, then,” she said decisively. “You’re right. It will be more final. I like things to be crisp and clean-cut when they end.”

Her words brought him back to reality. She’d put a new twist on his suggestion. She wanted to make things more final. Well...so did he, didn’t he? Of course he did. Things would be so much better for both of them, for all of them, once he had cut the ties that bound than.

They had to be better. He couldn’t stand to see that pained look in Faith’s eyes again. He didn’t want to live with the fear that he had put it there. They needed to part, soon, before he really did hurt her.

~ ~ ~

Faith wandered through the house after Nathan left, picking up Cory’s books and toys. She hadn’t had the heart to make him pick up his things earlier. Not tonight when he was so close to losing Nathan.

Opening Cory’s door, she peeked in as she always did. His breathing was slow and even, his mouth relaxed and open.

The night-light near his bed cast shadows on the wall, sending a yellow puddle of visibility just as far as the dark corners that had once scared him so. Of course, those corners weren’t so scary any more. Nathan had chased away the monsters. Faith wondered if they would come back once the man who’d scared them away had gone.

She hoped not. She hoped Nathan’s solution was a permanent one, not dependent on the man. Because, heaven knew, she couldn’t contact him once he had gone. She and Cory couldn’t be near him, ever again. She’d known that for certain when he’d wrapped her in his arms. She could say goodbye once and be brave. More than that was asking too much of herself.

Moving to tuck the sheet higher around Cory, Faith saw the wadded up bit of paper in Cory’s clutched fist. His list. It was getting more pathetic looking every day, wrinkled and torn. But he was holding it as though he held pure gold, filled with the promise of something he wanted badly—so very badly.

Gently, she removed the paper from his grasp, found the fat, red crayon that had dropped and rolled up against his side.

She smoothed the edges of the paper, making it flat. The eraser marks she’d made just a few days ago were still visible, the missing words beneath still faintly readable. Only a few items remained.
Not afraid of kids or monsters. Doesn’t have to be good at Cootie.
But it was the last thing on the list that gave her pause and made swallowing difficult. Her eyes misted and she had to blink hard to keep the tears from falling. On the paper, written in her neat handwriting were the words
Not a doctor
. The word “Not’’ had been crossed out with a red crayon.

She remembered Cory asking her to point to the words, realizing now why he’d needed to know.
A doctor
. The words seemed to scream at her.
A doctor
. Cory wanted a doctor for his daddy.

No. Cory wanted Nathan. He wanted only Nathan.

And God help her, so did she.

She loved Nathan Murphy, in spite of all she knew; that she didn’t want love, that
he
didn’t want love. That he couldn’t love
her
or anyone as long as his past held him prisoner. But none of that made any difference to the way she was feeling right now. She loved him, like it or not.

Faith
didn’t
like it, not at all, but she knew it was true. Just as she knew that somehow she had to get through the next few days. Because only then could she begin learning how not to love Nathan.

Chapter Eight

Saturday had arrived in a split second it seemed, the week galloping away too quickly. Still, Faith was determined to be cheery, to handle the farewell to Nathan this evening as she would any other patient’s swan song. Firmly, she took herself in hand. She rose early, busied herself making a big breakfast, and planned activities for her and Cory. They would clean, they would go to the park, they would play games, read, draw, enjoy themselves.