touch my heart (4 page)

She turned and walked slowly back inside.

Chapter 3

T
he east coast of the island stretched for miles in the distance. Aaliyah looked back, ensuring that she could still see the house. She’d left the chill of New York behind and welcomed the sunshine, which warmed her. She raised her hands in the air, feeling as if she should burst into a tropical version of The Sound of Music, despite the lack of mountainous terrain. Unexpectedly, a breeze blew in from the ocean, swirling around her, causing her to shiver with the unexpected chill.

She laughed out loud, feeling like a little child who’d discovered something strange and wonderful.

The barking of a dog startled her. She scanned the surroundings, noticing a man sitting on a large rock about fifty meters away overlooking the sea.

A dog, hidden by the rock, emerged and glanced in her direction.

For a moment, it stopped barking, a curious look on its face.

Its tail began to wag and then it charged in her direction. She didn’t particularly like dogs, but the look of delight on its face made her smile.

When the small dog reached her, it stopped, lowered its haunches to the ground and looked up at her with expectation. It was a pug, fawn in color.

She knelt and reached to ruffle behind its ears. With a bark of pure delight, it rolled over to expose his stomach.

She tickled him, watching as his eyes closed and a look of pure pleasure appeared.

“Nugget, come over here!” a voice boomed in their direction.

Nugget stood immediately, glanced at her with a sorrowful look and then raced toward the man.

Aaliyah followed, wondering if she were doing the right thing, but any man with a cute small dog couldn’t be half bad.

When she reached the man on the rock, he was not facing her direction. When he did, he did so slowly, his gaze vacant, while his eyes caressed her, moving from her legs and up to her face.

At first he didn’t say anything, but tilted his head, staring at her cautiously. An unkempt moustache and beard covered his face, but his eyes intrigued her. Dark chocolate, they were expressionless, as if he’d not smiled for a long time.

He stood, holding on to the rock with one hand. He was tall and trim, his muscles rippling under the gray tank top he wore. His broad shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist.

“Hi, I’m Aaliyah.”

He did not respond but continued to stare at her, as if he was probing her soul. Her body shivered under his gaze.

“I’m Dominic,” he said eventually. His voice was cool but courteous. He turned to the dog. “This is Nugget.”

“Nice to meet you, Dominic,” she responded politely. “Nugget and I are already good friends. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No problem,” he reassured. “You’re not on private property.”

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” she said, turning to pet the dog.

“Are you visiting the island on holiday?” he asked.

“No, I’m here to work. I’m a therapist. I’m staying over there.” She pointed in the direction of the house.

“You’re staying at the Mansion.”

“The Mansion?”

“Yes, that’s what we call it around here.”

She didn’t particularly like the name. It sounded generic and did nothing to describe the beauty of the house.

“Well, I have to go.” She glanced down at her watch. “It’s getting dark quickly.”

He nodded, scrutinizing her. Heat washed over her. She felt warm and tingly inside. For a moment heat flashed in his eyes, and then it was gone.

She reached for the dog, giggling when he licked her finger.

“I’ll see you around, Nugget.”

She nodded, turned and walked away. When she’d covered some distance, she turned around. Nugget was looking in her direction, his tail wagging playfully. His master was standing, his back to her, as he looked out to the sea.

When she arrived back at the house, the housekeeper informed her that dinner was ready.

She rushed up to the bedroom, took a shower and raced back downstairs. The walk along the cliff had left her hungry. She’d acquired a hearty appetite during her two days on the island.

Ten minutes later, when she walked into the dining room, she was surprised to see no one there.

She was about to leave and head for the kitchen when Mrs. Clarke entered.

“Oh, good. I’m glad you came down for dinner. I’m getting accustomed to the company.”

“I don’t like eating alone, either,” she responded. She did enjoy the older lady’s company.

“Is the owner coming down for dinner?” Aaliyah asked.

“I knew you would ask, but he rarely comes down for dinner.” Mrs. Clarke responded softly, as if she feared that someone would hear. “He doesn’t feel comfortable eating around others with his hand as it is.”

She didn’t say more, only indicated that Aaliyah should sit.

When they were both seated, Mrs. Clarke said the blessing.

“I hope you don’t mind eating local?” she said, lifting the covers off the dishes.

“I’m fine with whatever you cook,” Aaliyah reassured. “I’ve enjoyed every meal I’ve had so far. I am looking forward to sampling the local cuisine. Everything looks scrumptious.”

“Then you and I will get along royally. He’s not too particular about what he eats, either, as long as it tastes good, so I get to cook whatever I fancy. Which I love. I can cook most anything. Italian, English, Spanish, Mexican, you name it, I have recipes up here,” she said, touching the top of her head.

“So when will I be able to start work?” Aaliyah asked. Following Mrs. Clarke’s lead, she reached for a bowl of salad and spooned rice and garlic potatoes onto her plate.

“I expect he’ll come down tomorrow,” Mrs. Clarke finally said. “He’s a stubborn man, so you’ll just have to wait until he thinks it’s time.”

“Fair enough,” Aaliyah replied. She wouldn’t force the issue, but it seemed as if she was playing a waiting game with her reluctant patient. “What can you tell me about his injuries?”

“Didn’t Dr. Graham tell you?”

“I know it’s his leg and his hand. I was thinking more about how they’ve affected him. Why is he so reluctant to have therapy?”

“Maybe that’s something you should talk to him about. He’s a very private man.”

“Mrs. Clarke, I want to do everything I can to help him. While there are some things he may share with me, the fact that he’s so reluctant means he’s not going to share his feelings easily. Anything you can tell me will help. Just what you’ve observed. I’m not asking you to tell me his secrets.”

It didn’t take Mrs. Clarke any more prompting. By the time Aaliyah retired to her room, she had a better understanding of her patient. She was excited to meet him and begin his treatment. She’d been given his files and knew she could help him. He just had to be willing to work, and based on what Mrs. Clarke and Dr. Graham had told her, she had her job cut out for her.

She wondered what could have prompted Dr. Graham to think that she could handle this patient. The enthusiasm she’d experienced when she’d decided to take on this job was slowly waning.

His reluctance to start the session was beginning to exasperate her. She would give him one more day and then she planned on doing something about it.

What she was going to do? She wasn’t even sure. But she had no intention of waiting too much longer.

* * *

There was a knock on the door. Dominic picked his cane up and walked slowly to the door.

“Who is it?” he shouted.

“It’s only me,” Mrs. Clarke responded. “I need to speak to you, Mr. Wolfe.”

He opened the door slowly, suspecting that she was about to reprimand him again.

He stepped back, letting her enter.

“I know what you’re here about,” he said. He gave an impatient shrug.

“Do not make assumptions, young man.” Her eyes sparked. “But yes, I’m here about the young lady who keeps asking where her patient is. She’s getting a bit worried and I suspect she’s soon going to file a missing person’s report.”

“I would think she’d been happy to enjoy her first few days doing nothing but enjoying our wonderful sunshine. Most women would,” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

“I’m sure most would.” She shook her head in dismay. “Unfortunately, she is not most women, she is here to do a job. You’re going to have to meet with her and start your sessions. I would think your priority would be to get better.”

“I suspect that this may be an attempt to make me believe that I can get better. It’s been almost a year since the fire and I’m no closer to being better than I was six months ago.”

“And whose fault is that?” she reasoned. “If you persist in being as nonchalant about your injuries and your recovery, what do you expect?”

He glared at her, shocked that she’d had the gall to speak to him that way. But then he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes, and the sense of despair and frustration.

She was right. He was being stubborn about this situation, despite his promise to Charles that he would try this time.

“Okay, I’ll meet with her tomorrow and then decide where to go from there,” he said calmly.

Nodding her approval, she wished him good-night and stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

He walked back to the chair next to his bed and sat. He did find his new therapist intriguing and the fact that she was pleasant to the eye made her that much more appealing.

So tomorrow he’d take the time to introduce himself...again. He could already imagine the look on her face when she discovered they’d already met.

He could have done the right thing then and introduced himself, but he hadn’t been ready. Acknowledging her would be to acknowledge the possibilities.

He didn’t want possibilities. He wanted a definite. Why should he go to all the trouble to exert himself when the outcome could leave him just as he was? There were no guarantees after all.

Dominic headed for the shower. Tonight he’d go to bed early. It seemed as though he’d have to face the future...and a reality that he wasn’t sure he could handle.

* * *

Smoke billowed around him. He could not breathe, but he had to climb the stairs. While the fire had not spread yet to this part of the house, the stifling grayness slowed his progress. He’d had the good sense to soak the small towel with the contents of the bottle of water he’d had in the car.

In the distance, he heard the sound of sirens. Good, they’d be here soon. And then he heard another sound, almost like the cry of a wounded animal. It must be the little girl.

He pushed the door open, but it refused to budge. He pushed again and this time it creaked open, the hinges stiff from lack to oil.

When he entered the room, he searched for movement in the thickening smoke but could not find her.

“Where are you?” he shouted.

“I’m in the bathroom,” the voice replied, followed by a bout of coughing.

“I’m coming to get you.”

“Please hurry. I’m scared.”

He walked along the wall, feeling until his hands touched the door. He pushed it open.

The little girl immediately hurled herself at him. He loosened the cloth around his mouth and nose and tied it around hers, telling her to only breathe when she needed to.

He lifted her up and headed in the direction he’d come, but when he stepped into the hallway, the flames greeted him. He could feel the heat beneath him and above. He turned around and headed in the other direction, not sure where it would lead.

And then he heard it—a loud creaking beneath him. Suddenly, he found himself falling into heat and darkness.

* * *

Dominic bolted awake. He’d been dreaming again. He cursed the night. When was this going to end? He’d saved the girl, so why was he being tortured by the memory of that night?

Everyone thought he was a hero. So why couldn’t he get a good night’s sleep without the heat and pain of the memory?

He rose from the bed, stepping onto the floor, pulling his left leg back when a sharp pain raced along it. He fell back to the bed, sweat pouring from his body, and waited until the pain subsided to the annoying throb he’d grown accustomed to.

When he could finally stand, he shifted to the chair and picked up his iPad and started to read.

It was only in the early hours of the morning, just before the sun rose, that he crawled back into bed and fell asleep.

Chapter 4

A
aliyah looked out to sea. Today the waves tossed angrily. On the horizon, dark clouds swirled. She could tell it was going to rain. The day had passed uneventfully. When she’d asked about her still mysterious patient that morning, Mrs. Clarke had told her he’d be meeting with her sometime during the day. She’d felt like screaming but instead had slowly walked away.

After spending her day reading and watching the afternoon talk shows, she’d found herself heading to the cliff, wondering if she’d see the dog again. She didn’t particularly care to see the man.

She turned abruptly back toward the house when the first drop of water touched her.

She started to run, taking her time along the rocky area. By the time she reached the house, her clothes clung to her.

She stood on the verandah, wondering what to do.

A throat clearing startled her and she turned in the direction of the sound.

The man sat on a chair. Next to him, the dog sat, its tail thumping on the floor.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. For some strange reason, her heart pounded against her chest, almost in harmony with the rain.

“Seeking shelter from the rain. I decided it would be smarter to get back before the rain came.”

His sarcasm stung, but he was right. She’d known that the rain would come. She’d allowed herself to be controlled by her desire to see him again.

Who on earth was he? And then it dawned on her. The man sitting down was her boss, her patient. If she’d been observant, she would have noticed the cane lying on the floor.

“You’re my patient?” she exclaimed.

He paused, his eyes twinkling with laughter. “I confess. I am your...boss.”

A word she didn’t often use sprung to her head, but she prided herself with self-control and the word remained a thought.