Falling For Her Army Doc / Healed By Their Unexpected Family. Dianne Drake
it’s a good thing you’re not my doctor, isn’t it?”
Mateo reached over and took Lizzie’s beer, then took a swig of it.
“That’s your limit,” she warned him.
“Actually, it’s one over—but who’s counting?”
Lizzie shook her head, caught between smiling and frowning. “I shouldn’t have to count. Somewhere in the manual on being adult there’s a chapter on responsibility. Maybe you should go back and re-read it.”
“You really can’t let go, can you?”
“It’s not about letting go, Mateo. It’s about all the things that are expected of me—not least of which is taking care of you, since I’m the one who brought you here.”
He reached over and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. The feel of his hand was so startling and smooth she caught herself on the verge of recoiling, but stopped when she realized it was an empty gesture. Still, the shivers his touch left behind rattled her.
“I’m not going to let anything hurt you or your reputation,” he said, his voice so low it was almost drowned out by the noise level coming from the rest of the people at The Shack. “I know how hard it is to get what you want and keep it, and I wouldn’t jeopardize that for you, Lizzie.”
This serious side of him…she hadn’t seen it before. But she knew, deep down, this was the real Mateo coming through. Not the one who refused treatment, not even the one who partied hard on the beach. Those might be different sides to his personality, but she’d just been touched by the real Mateo Sanchez, and she liked it. Maybe for the first time liked him. If only she could see more of him, now.
“I appreciate that,” she said.
She toyed with the idea of telling him that her job here might not be everything she wanted, that she was rethinking staying. But he didn’t want to hear that. It was her dilemma to solve.
“Just keep it reasonable and we’ll both be fine.”
“Everything in my life has been reasonable, Lizzie. I may not remember all about that life, but I do recall who I was in the part I remember, and I was you—always too serious, always too involved.”
“And now?” she asked.
“That is the question, isn’t it? I have so many different pieces of me rattling around my brain, and I’m not able to put them in order yet.”
And she suspected he was afraid of what he might find when he did put them into place. She understood that. Understood Mateo more now than she had.
“Sometimes they don’t always come together the way you want or expect.”
“Then I’ll have a lifetime to adjust to what I’m missing, or what got away from me. And that’s not me being pragmatic. That’s me trying to deal with me, and I’m not easy. I know that.”
He reached out and brushed her cheek, this time without the pretense of brushing back her hair. It was simply a stroke of affection or friendship. Maybe an old habit returning. And she didn’t mind so much.
Affection had never really been part of her life. Not from her dad, not from her husband. Even if this little gesture from Mateo meant nothing to him, it meant something to her. But she wouldn’t allow herself to think beyond that. What was the point? He was a man without a memory; she a woman without clear direction. It wasn’t a good combination, no matter how you looked at it.
Still, his touch gave her the shivers again.
“So, moving on to something less philosophical, you wouldn’t happen to know if I can swim, would you? I mean, being in the Army, I’m assuming I have basic skills. But enough to get me out there on one of those surfboards?”
“I could always throw you in to find out.”
“You’re not a very sympathetic doctor, Dr. Peterson.”
She laughed. “Well, you’re finally catching on.”
“What I’m catching on to is that you’re a fraud. I know there’s a side of Lizzie Peterson she doesn’t let out. That’s the side I want to see.”
“Good luck with that,” she said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Because what you see with me is what you get.”
“Under different circumstances that might not be so bad. But with what I’m going through…” Mateo shrugged. “As they say: timing is everything. Too bad that’s the way it’s working out.”
Which meant what? Was he really interested, or was this only one small aspect of Mateo that had been damaged?
“In my experience, it’s not so much about the timing as it is the luck of the draw. Things happen when they happen, and the only thing dictating that is what you’re doing in the moment. If I’m the one paddling around in the surf after I’ve been warned there’s a rip current, it should come as no surprise to me that I’m also the one who gets carried out to sea. Things happen because we make them happen—or we choose to ignore what could happen in their place.”
“Like my amnesia. It happened because… Well, if I knew the answer to that, I’d tell you. But my doc prefers I make the discovery on my own. ‘Vulnerable mind syndrome,’ he calls it. Which means my mind is open and susceptible to anything.”
“Except doing the things you’re supposed to in order to help yourself improve.”
“Claiming amnesia on that one,” he said, smiling.
“As long as you’re just claiming and not believing. And as for swimming… I don’t know. But at some point, after I return from my holiday, if you’re still here…”
“Ah, the veiled threat.”
“Not a threat. An offer to take you out and see how you do in the water.”
“That could motivate me to be on my best behavior.”
“Or you could motivate yourself. Your choice, Mateo. So, are you up for a wade?” she asked.
“Didn’t you just say something about throwing me in?”
“Maybe I did…maybe I didn’t,” she teased.
Mateo laughed, then suddenly turned serious. “What happens if the real me comes back, Lizzie—all of me—and I don’t like who I am?”
“You haven’t given yourself enough time. And maybe you underestimate yourself. Whatever the case, you’re aware of changes and that’s the first step. Always be mindful of that and you’ll be fine. I mean, we all lose track of ourselves at one time or another, with or without amnesia. I really believe you’re more in touch with who you are than you’re ready to admit. So, like I said, there’s no rush. Now, if you go in the water with me, it’s ankle-deep or nothing.”
“I could have been a Navy SEAL…which means I’m an expert swimmer.” He kicked off his flip-flops and waded out in the water with her.
“Except you were an Army surgeon, stationed in a field hospital in Afghanistan. No swimming there.”
“In my mind I was doing something more glamorous and heroic.”
“You were doing something heroic. Patching, stitching, amputating…” She took hold of his hand, even though he was in perfect physical condition, and they waded in up to their knees. “Might not have been glamorous, but you were saving lives.”
“Only some of which I remember,” he said, taking the lead and then pulling Lizzie along until they were in halfway to their hips.
They stood there together for a few minutes, simply looking out over the water. In the distance, a freighter was making its slow way across the horizon—not destined for Oahu, where they were, but perhaps one of the other islands.
Faraway