was little more than two dark burning eyes surrounded by white—white sheets, white blankets and white walls in the background.
“Sweetheart, I promised you I’d stay until you fell asleep, and I will.” Alan glanced at the clock on the hospital room wall. It was Monday night and nearing midnight, something his limbs and eyes and head could have already told him. Around nine, weariness had settled over him like a pall, but he still hadn’t been able to leave the hospital.
Right after visiting hours were over and her mother had left, Susie had changed her mind about having her adenoids out in the morning. She’d decided definitely not to.
“One more story,” she coaxed now.
Three stories later, Alan was finally free to tug on his coat and escape the hospital. A still night and a sky full of stars greeted him outside. His car was the only one left in its row. As he started the engine, he told himself for the hundredth time that these late-night hospital visits were unnecessary. During the day, he always checked on the few pediatrics patients he had scheduled for minor surgery.
His problem, as he’d mentally told himself a dozen times, was that he didn’t have pediatrics patients; he had Susie and Johnny and Billy and Kim. For a short time, they weren’t their parents’ kids but his. An attitude that his mentors had tried very hard to purge him of in medical school—with absolutely no success.
At home, he shucked his clothes and stood for long minutes under a hot shower, which against all odds woke him up.
Lying in the darkness, fully awake, he stared at the ceiling and thought of Carroll. Sleeping alone was not fun. Sleeping alone was even less fun when a man knew there was a woman on the other side of the city who was more than willing to share her bed with him. Not at this hour, of course. He glanced at the luminous face of his clock radio. Two o’clock. No, hardly at this hour, but the principle was the same.
He’d spent two nights trying to think of some way to ensure that making love with him would be the most unforgettable experience of Caro’s life. It appeared he was going to spend a third night the same way.
The thing is, he lacked daring. Imagination. A true spirit of romantic devilment. Women wanted things like that. A true romantic hero would not think about the time or worry about interrupting her sleep. A true romantic hero took chances. He thought up much more exciting things than roses and gourmet dinners. He took his lady completely by surprise.
Abruptly, Alan sat up in bed and switched on the light. The mirror over his dresser reflected back a squinting man with disheveled hair, gray pajama tops and a determined scowl. You’re crazy, said a little voice in his head. You can’t do that. Go back to bed.
Clean black socks were neatly folded in his drawer. He put those on after he’d pulled on a dark sweater and jeans. Yawning, he grabbed a jacket and stuffed his keys in his back pocket. She’ll have the little men come to put you away. They’ll be smiling patiently and carrying a straitjacket…
He mentally suggested an anatomically impossible feat to his little voice, and persevered. A man had to do what a man had to do. Maybe the canoe trip had been a bomb, but he could make this work. Caro wouldn’t laugh at him. And if she took it in the right spirit, neither of them would be sleeping alone after this. Ever.
He refused to feel another qualm, until he reached Carroll’s building, parked the car and took a long look at the dark windows of her apartment. She was unquestionably asleep.
Sleepy, however, could be an advantage. She wouldn’t be quite so likely to think he’d lost his mind. Stop that kind of negative thinking, he commanded himself. Climbing out of the car, he took firm steps around the side of her building.
He knew which windows went to her bedroom. The trick was getting to them. He pivoted around to make sure no patrol cars were anywhere in sight, then let his
“Sweetheart, I promised you I’d stay until you fell asleep, and I will.” Alan glanced at the clock on the hospital room wall. It was Monday night and nearing midnight, something his limbs and eyes and head could have already told him. Around nine, weariness had settled over him like a pall, but he still hadn’t been able to leave the hospital.
Right after visiting hours were over and her mother had left, Susie had changed her mind about having her adenoids out in the morning. She’d decided definitely not to.
“One more story,” she coaxed now.
Three stories later, Alan was finally free to tug on his coat and escape the hospital. A still night and a sky full of stars greeted him outside. His car was the only one left in its row. As he started the engine, he told himself for the hundredth time that these late-night hospital visits were unnecessary. During the day, he always checked on the few pediatrics patients he had scheduled for minor surgery.
His problem, as he’d mentally told himself a dozen times, was that he didn’t have pediatrics patients; he had Susie and Johnny and Billy and Kim. For a short time, they weren’t their parents’ kids but his. An attitude that his mentors had tried very hard to purge him of in medical school—with absolutely no success.
At home, he shucked his clothes and stood for long minutes under a hot shower, which against all odds woke him up.
Lying in the darkness, fully awake, he stared at the ceiling and thought of Carroll. Sleeping alone was not fun. Sleeping alone was even less fun when a man knew there was a woman on the other side of the city who was more than willing to share her bed with him. Not at this hour, of course. He glanced at the luminous face of his clock radio. Two o’clock. No, hardly at this hour, but the principle was the same.
He’d spent two nights trying to think of some way to ensure that making love with him would be the most unforgettable experience of Caro’s life. It appeared he was going to spend a third night the same way.
The thing is, he lacked daring. Imagination. A true spirit of romantic devilment. Women wanted things like that. A true romantic hero would not think about the time or worry about interrupting her sleep. A true romantic hero took chances. He thought up much more exciting things than roses and gourmet dinners. He took his lady completely by surprise.
Abruptly, Alan sat up in bed and switched on the light. The mirror over his dresser reflected back a squinting man with disheveled hair, gray pajama tops and a determined scowl. You’re crazy, said a little voice in his head. You can’t do that. Go back to bed.
Clean black socks were neatly folded in his drawer. He put those on after he’d pulled on a dark sweater and jeans. Yawning, he grabbed a jacket and stuffed his keys in his back pocket. She’ll have the little men come to put you away. They’ll be smiling patiently and carrying a straitjacket…
He mentally suggested an anatomically impossible feat to his little voice, and persevered. A man had to do what a man had to do. Maybe the canoe trip had been a bomb, but he could make this work. Caro wouldn’t laugh at him. And if she took it in the right spirit, neither of them would be sleeping alone after this. Ever.
He refused to feel another qualm, until he reached Carroll’s building, parked the car and took a long look at the dark windows of her apartment. She was unquestionably asleep.
Sleepy, however, could be an advantage. She wouldn’t be quite so likely to think he’d lost his mind. Stop that kind of negative thinking, he commanded himself. Climbing out of the car, he took firm steps around the side of her building.
He knew which windows went to her bedroom. The trick was getting to them. He pivoted around to make sure no patrol cars were anywhere in sight, then let his
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