took the time to consider her childhood superhero, Caleb. Her magical mystery man.
Yeah, right. This whole thing would almost be funny if it wasn’t so darned pathetic. Tara had nailed it when she suggested Arianna seek counseling to resolve the emotional issues surrounding her dreams. The whole thing was rather anticlimactic really. The discovery that her nocturnal lover hadn’t been planted in the garden of her dreams through some mystical connection after all. It was clear now that the seed germinating his appearance in her psyche had been grounded in reality. Planted in her mind in early childhood, when she had spent time with him at his grandmother’s townhouse.
It was a seed then watered and fertilized by the imagination of a grieving child.
She glanced at her watch. “Where is Caleb, anyway?” Hopefully Conor was here, at least. Idiotic hospital policy forbade anyone but immediate family from going back to be with Granny. And no one should have to die alone. Not like Da had done.
Before that mournful notion could lead her further down the road to despair, she heard the sound of a deep, resonant voice with a sexy Irish accent. Caleb . He was standing at the reception desk, his expression tight and grim. Shoulders bunched, he was conversing animatedly with a slight, balding man sporting wire-rimmed spectacles, who was stubbornly shaking his head.
“Casualty’s chockablock right now,” he was saying, “so we’re allowing only one family member back with each patient. As her son’s with her now….” All at once, the man’s eyes seemed to glaze over, become vacant. “Of course, sir,” he said politely. “No worries. You can go on back to see her now.”
As if Caleb had sensed Arianna’s steady regard, his head pivoted on his shoulders. A dark, enigmatic gaze locked onto hers. His green eyes glittered with the remnant of something that trailed shivers over her flesh. Consciously resisting the urge to scrub at her arms, she dropped her eyes and experienced an actual physical release as she broke the unearthly connection.
All testosterone and raw masculinity, Caleb stalked toward her in a pair of worn blue jeans that creased strategically with every step. Damn .
“How did you know...to ring me?” he asked, looking down at her.
Arianna stood. “Granny was lucid after it happened. Asked me to call you and Conor.”
His brows raised. “Granny?”
“She said it was what I used to call her when I was small.” She gave her head a quick shake. “Not important right now. Is there any news? I followed the ambulance over in my car, but they wouldn’t let me go into the examining room because I’m not family.”
The double-doors leading back to the treatment rooms swung open, and an attractive man, mid-to-late forties, came walking through. He nodded at Caleb, his gaze sliding over to Arianna and back again, then he disappeared through a door marked Admissions .
“My uncle, Conor. Mother’s brother,” Caleb explained, then his brows furrowed. “You look drained. You should go on home. Nothing more you can do here. I’ll give you a shout when there’s word.”
“I’m staying until I know she’s out of danger.”
His eyes widened at her fervency, then, with a ‘have it your way’ shrug, he was gone.
The round, black clock on the wall ticked away the interminable minutes. Fifteen . She went to the restroom. Two doors, one marked MNA, one marked FIR. Thankful for the silhouettes etched on the doors, she picked MNA.
Thirty-five minutes. A trip to the Coke machine for a bottle of water.
Back in the waiting room, she checked in again with the desk. The nurse picked up the telephone, dialed and spoke with someone. “The crisis has passed and the patient’s stable,” she informed Arianna. “But she’s being admitting to HDU due to her age.”
“HDU?”
“High Dependency Unit,” the nurse explained. “For patients who don’t require ICU, but need more support than an ordinary
Yeah, right. This whole thing would almost be funny if it wasn’t so darned pathetic. Tara had nailed it when she suggested Arianna seek counseling to resolve the emotional issues surrounding her dreams. The whole thing was rather anticlimactic really. The discovery that her nocturnal lover hadn’t been planted in the garden of her dreams through some mystical connection after all. It was clear now that the seed germinating his appearance in her psyche had been grounded in reality. Planted in her mind in early childhood, when she had spent time with him at his grandmother’s townhouse.
It was a seed then watered and fertilized by the imagination of a grieving child.
She glanced at her watch. “Where is Caleb, anyway?” Hopefully Conor was here, at least. Idiotic hospital policy forbade anyone but immediate family from going back to be with Granny. And no one should have to die alone. Not like Da had done.
Before that mournful notion could lead her further down the road to despair, she heard the sound of a deep, resonant voice with a sexy Irish accent. Caleb . He was standing at the reception desk, his expression tight and grim. Shoulders bunched, he was conversing animatedly with a slight, balding man sporting wire-rimmed spectacles, who was stubbornly shaking his head.
“Casualty’s chockablock right now,” he was saying, “so we’re allowing only one family member back with each patient. As her son’s with her now….” All at once, the man’s eyes seemed to glaze over, become vacant. “Of course, sir,” he said politely. “No worries. You can go on back to see her now.”
As if Caleb had sensed Arianna’s steady regard, his head pivoted on his shoulders. A dark, enigmatic gaze locked onto hers. His green eyes glittered with the remnant of something that trailed shivers over her flesh. Consciously resisting the urge to scrub at her arms, she dropped her eyes and experienced an actual physical release as she broke the unearthly connection.
All testosterone and raw masculinity, Caleb stalked toward her in a pair of worn blue jeans that creased strategically with every step. Damn .
“How did you know...to ring me?” he asked, looking down at her.
Arianna stood. “Granny was lucid after it happened. Asked me to call you and Conor.”
His brows raised. “Granny?”
“She said it was what I used to call her when I was small.” She gave her head a quick shake. “Not important right now. Is there any news? I followed the ambulance over in my car, but they wouldn’t let me go into the examining room because I’m not family.”
The double-doors leading back to the treatment rooms swung open, and an attractive man, mid-to-late forties, came walking through. He nodded at Caleb, his gaze sliding over to Arianna and back again, then he disappeared through a door marked Admissions .
“My uncle, Conor. Mother’s brother,” Caleb explained, then his brows furrowed. “You look drained. You should go on home. Nothing more you can do here. I’ll give you a shout when there’s word.”
“I’m staying until I know she’s out of danger.”
His eyes widened at her fervency, then, with a ‘have it your way’ shrug, he was gone.
The round, black clock on the wall ticked away the interminable minutes. Fifteen . She went to the restroom. Two doors, one marked MNA, one marked FIR. Thankful for the silhouettes etched on the doors, she picked MNA.
Thirty-five minutes. A trip to the Coke machine for a bottle of water.
Back in the waiting room, she checked in again with the desk. The nurse picked up the telephone, dialed and spoke with someone. “The crisis has passed and the patient’s stable,” she informed Arianna. “But she’s being admitting to HDU due to her age.”
“HDU?”
“High Dependency Unit,” the nurse explained. “For patients who don’t require ICU, but need more support than an ordinary
Similar Books
