The Eden Tree by Doreen Owens Malek Page B

louder now. He spoke in Gaelic and she couldn’t understand a word. He was becoming more upset, and she was just about to shake him when he sat up with a loud cry, shocking himself awake.
    “Con, you’re all right,” Linn said soothingly, putting her hands on his shoulders. “You had a bad dream.”
    He looked at her and around at the room. Relieved, he sank back on the bed. “It seems I did,” he answered hoarsely.
    “You were yelling in Gaelic,” Linn said.
    He nodded. “We use it for a code. The tans can’t understand it.”
    The tans. He used the old word, with the old bitterness. “Is that what you were dreaming about, the trouble?”
    “Aye.” He swallowed. “I was trying to warn someone but he couldn’t hear me. I’ve dreamt the same before.”
    “Do you want to talk about it?”
    He shook his head. “It doesn’t bear repeating.” He took her hand. “Will you get me a drink? I’ve the mother and father of a thirst.” He glanced at his leg. “I see Neil patched me up.”
    “I’ll get you a drink of water,” Linn replied. “You’re full of drugs; no booze for you. It’s time for your pill anyway.”
    “Who died and left you boss?” he said grumpily.
    “Dr. McCarthy put me in charge.”
    “Neil has no mercy.” He sat up and tried to slide his injured leg off the bed.
    Linn paused in her path to the sink. “And where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.
    “I have to use the lavatory,” he said uncomfortably, flushing faintly.
    “You can’t go by yourself. I’ll take you.”
    “The devil you will!” he roared. “I’m not a cripple yet.”
    “Dr. McCarthy said you were to stay off that leg. You can use me for a crutch.” Linn went to him and helped him stand, propping up his bad side by slipping her arm around his waist. “Don’t be afraid to lean on me,” she said to him. “I’m strong.”
    Con looked down at her. “You are that,” he said softly.
    Linn pulled him closer, trying to get a better grip on him. He was still holding back, reluctant to let her take his full weight. “Con, you must let me help you,” she said, glancing up at him.
    His blue eyes held hers. “You have helped me,” he murmured. “I’d be in a bad way right now if it weren’t for you.”
    Linn dropped her eyes, acutely conscious of his muscular body pressed against hers. He turned her chin up with his free hand, forcing her to look at him.
    “I’m afraid I’ve given you a rough time,” he said quietly. “I’m a notoriously nasty patient.”
    “Anyone in pain can be forgiven for being nasty,” Linn answered evasively.
    “Am I forgiven then?” he asked.
    “You know you are.”
    “Show me.”
    “Con, you shouldn’t be standing this long and…” Her words were cut off by the pressure of his mouth. His lips touched hers briefly, warmly, and then he raised his head, leaving her aching for more.
    “Aislinn aroon,” he whispered. “You’re a treasure.”
    Linn allowed herself the luxury of turning her face against his chest and hugging him for a second. Then she straightened and said briskly, “I believe you wanted to take a walk.”
    “That I did.” Linn led him to the lavatory in a lurching duet as he hopped on his good leg and she did her best to keep up with him. She opened the door and handed him inside, then leaned against the wall to wait. There were water sounds and muffled curses followed by a loud, splintering crash.
    “Con!” she called. “Are you all right?”
    “I am not,” he answered in a spirited tone that indicated he wasn’t at death’s door, either. “I just broke this bloody bottle of mouthwash.”
    “Will you forget that stuff and come back to bed before you trash the whole bathroom?” she asked.
    The door was yanked open and he faced her. “I just scared myself with a glance in the mirror,” he announced. “I look like I’m coming off a five day drunk.”
    “I can stand it,” she replied dryly, slipping her shoulder under his arm