Patient Nurse by Diana Palmer Page A

the fifth wheel. It had hurt when she was a little girl, but she’d grown accustomed to being excluded from family pastimes and assigned to endless domestic tasks. Since Isadora’s death, they’d only invited her to the house once, and it had been far too uncomfortable for all of them to repeat. She didn’t need to be told that they’d only invited her out of a sense of duty, to keep people who knew them from gossiping.
    She sighed and closed her eyes. She was going to start her life over, she decided. She was going to stop pining for Ramon and regretting the indifference of her aunt and uncle and everyone blaming her for Isadora’s death. She was going to get a new job, a new wardrobe, a new apartment and a new life. Now that she’d be healthy and whole again, she could plan on a future. She was going to live it to the fullest.
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    Ramon, unaware of her plotting, stormed into his apartment after work with a face like a thundercloud. He was furious that Noreen didn’t want him to visit her, to oversee her care. He’d saved her life—didn’t that matter to her?
    He poured himself a drink and sat down heavily in his armchair, instantly joined by the kitten. It curled up against him and purred.
    â€œAt least you’re glad to see me,” he murmured, stroking it absently.
    He’d enjoyed the kitten’s company. It made him think of all he’d missed in his life. He came home to an emptyapartment, to loneliness and grief and isolation. When Isadora had been alive, he came home to noise and laughter and a roomful of people, because she liked parties and gave them frequently. He never had peace or the luxury of silence in which to read the medical journals that Isadora despised.
    He wondered now if she’d needed the companionship of other people to make up for the emptiness in her life with Ramon. Isadora hadn’t liked animals and children. He could still hear her laughter when he’d suggested starting a family. Ruin her figure and be a slave to an infant, she’d exclaimed, what sane woman would give up her independence to be a little homemaker? As for animals, she wouldn’t have cat hair on her elegant furniture, and dogs were just too much trouble. Like children.
    He’d loved Isadora, so he’d given up his dreams of domesticity after that one conversation. But he saw his colleagues with their wives and children, heard them plan vacations at resorts that catered to families. He’d been envious, because he and Isadora had parties instead of a family. They grew apart after the first few months of their marriage and went their separate ways. And in the last few months before her death, Isadora had been drinking far too much. She cheated on him, made threats, impossible demands, accusations. She hadn’t been happy. She’d promised to do herself in if he went off to France without her, depriving her of seeing her lover who was also going to be there.
    He’d refused because of her health, not out of jealousy. But his reason hadn’t mattered to Isadora. She’d raged at him that he was only a dog in the manger. It was Noreen he lusted after, she’d accused wildly, andnot for the first time. Well, Noreen would never want him, because she was afraid of men and especially him, she’d raged. She’d never explained, and he hadn’t wondered about the statement. Until now.
    He sipped his drink, recalling other incidents, other arguments, that belied the perfect marriage he and Isadora had shown to the world. She hated his work, his commitment to his patients, his absences in emergencies. Once, she’d hung up on a patient’s hysterical wife, refusing to call Ramon to the telephone. The man had been in cardiac arrest, and fortunately, another doctor had come to his aid. That had happened a week before Ramon left for France. And Isadora had gone walking in the cold rain without a coat, with bronchitis.
    He’d