California Moon. Catherine Lanigan
“I…like you.”
“Ah, hope,” he replied with mock theatrics. “This is getting cold, Shannon,” he said, holding the coffee out again.
Taking it from him, she said, “I really do hate hospital coffee.” She sipped it. “And this is so good.” She smiled broadly.
He beamed. “More hope.”
“To answer your question, it’s not you in particular I’m avoiding. It’s just that I’m private, that’s all.”
He took a step closer. “Why is that? You have something to hide?” he joked.
“No,” she replied nonchalantly.
“I know there isn’t a husband in the picture,” he said with a shrug.
“How?” she asked, surprised.
“I asked.”
“Oh,” she said with obvious tension. “What else did you ask?”
“If there was a boyfriend.” He paused, waiting for a reaction. When he didn’t get one, he continued. “Maybe my sources aren’t so good.”
She looked into the coffee and not at him. “There’s no one.”
“You say that so sadly,” he said, touching her shoulder.
Shannon jerked away as if he’d burned her.
“He hurt you that much?”
She felt tears threaten but she fought them. He would never see them. No one would. It was one of her rules. “I never said there was anyone. Why do you persist with these questions? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“I can,” he said, his eyes caressing her face. “But I don’t want to. I told you, I want to get to know you.”
Ben hovered over the crown of her head, wanting to kiss her at the top of her being. “I want to be your friend.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.” He closed his eyes and inhaled a faint lavender scent from the soap she used.
Still looking into her coffee, Shannon fought her emotions. She hated how they crept up on her without warning and threatened to give her away. She didn’t want anyone, least of all a man, to know about her. For so long she’d pretended she was a woman without a past. Without history. She was Shannon Riley—nurse. That was all. “I have enough friends,” she said finally.
“But I don’t.” His voice dropped to a hush.
Empathy nearly bowled her over. Half of her wanted to bolt from this intimacy while the other half wanted the friendship he offered. “Ben, please…”
“So answer my question, Shannon. Is there someone? Was there someone? If so, I’ll go away.”
“A monster. A long time ago.” A tear dropped from her eye.
“I’m sorry,” he said, touching her arm. “But I’m not him.”
“I don’t want that to ever happen to me again,” she said. She handed the coffee back and turned away.
“But that’s not living,” Ben protested softly.
“Sure it is,” she said, braving a smile. “People do it all the time. If they’re smart.”
Ben stepped back to give her full berth. “And you’re smart?”
“As a whip,” she replied and retreated into John’s room.
Standing at John’s bedside, Shannon took his pulse, holding his hand a moment longer than necessary.
Just looking at John, she was able to block Ben out of her mind. “It’s true what Ben said. I did save your life. There’s a saying that if you save a person’s life, then you own them. Maybe that’s why doctors have such egos. They think they’re building up credits like bank balances, that the lives they save make them immortal. That’s my theory anyway.
“But I don’t want to own you, John. I want to get to know you,” she said, borrowing Ben’s line.
Shining a penlight into his pupils, she saw no response. Sadly, she closed his eyelids. “It’s safe in there. Feels good, doesn’t it? But it can’t last. That’s the sad part. Sooner or later, you have to come out of that cave. But don’t worry. When you do, I’ll be here. Waiting.”
The aftermath of the attempt on John’s life was unnervingly tranquil. It gave Ben a chance to chip away at Shannon’s wall, brick by brick.
“What’s this?” Shannon asked the next day in the hallway.
“No-fat latte. I heard you liked this better than the coffee and you only order it on payday. Extravagances like that will break you,” he joked.
“Ben, you’re pushing,” she said, but couldn’t stop the smile parting her lips.
He beamed broadly. “Think it’s working?”
She took the latte, pushed against John’s door with her hip and said, “Yes.”
“All right!” Ben said, pressing his arms down against his sides.
Ben waited a few minutes while Shannon went about her morning routine with John, marking things down. Because she was the only nurse assigned to the case, she was required to administer all medications and even perform orderly’s duties.
Ben opened the door and leaned against the jamb. “Need some help with the bedding? He’s kinda heavy.”
“I can manage,” she replied, tugging on the sheets.
Ben entered the room. “Ever heard the old saying that two people lighten the load.”
“Yes,” she replied as Ben lifted John’s leaden legs like feathers. She rolled the sheeting upward.
“Do you like movies, Shannon?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your favorite kind?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Musicals, I guess. Love stories.”
Ben slammed his hand over his heart. “Hope abounds! I figured you’d tell me you like those awful Gothic-horror flicks or blow-up stuff.”
Shannon chuckled in spite of herself. “Why? Is that what you like?”
“Never. I like westerns. Old ones. Even the silent ones. Tom Mix. I especially like the part where the cowboy kisses the cowgirl at the end.”
She looked away. “And then he rides off into the sunset…alone.”
“Is that what he did to you? He left you?”
Her eyes clouded over and the walls shot up around her. She stiffened visibly but said, “No, I left.”
“Oh,” he sighed.
Shannon finished changing the linens in silence. “Thanks for helping me, Ben,” she said finally.
He went to the tape player and exchanged the tape with one he’d hidden in his jacket pocket. He depressed the button. “I like La Bohème. It moves my soul.” He walked out the door.
Shannon looked from the door to the tape player and gasped. “How could he know? It’s my favorite, too.”
When evening came, the dinner trays were brought by an orderly. Ben took a tray for Shannon and left one for himself outside John’s door.
He pushed the door open, announcing, “Break time.”
Shannon looked at the tray, not realizing she was frowning.
“If you eat that stuff on a consistent basis, Ben, you’ll die.”
“This is a hospital. The food is supposed