When she finished, she didn’t turn around. “Are you done staring at my ass?”

Fuck, how did she know that?

I looked up and noticed the mirror on the wall. The angle was perfect for her to see my face on the other side of the room.

Just shoot me.

She grabbed her basket and walked out.

Yeah…she hated me.

It was another night at the hospital. It wouldn’t be so bad if I were getting paid. Doing this for free wasn’t exactly fulfilling. I checked my patient’s lab work before I walked inside. Her blood thinners weren’t helping. Heparin didn’t work and her D-dimer was still through the roof.

Surgery was looking like a greater possibility.

I avoided such drastic measures as much as possible. No matter how simple a procedure was, it was still surgery, and the side effects were usually worse than the procedure itself. She could get an infection or worse. In terms of medicine, I was a conservative. I always postponed serious decisions as long as possible, hoping something else would come up.

I walked inside and began my work.

She didn’t look happy to see me. She glanced at me then ignored me.

“Hello, Mrs. Patelo.” I said it right this time.

Her eyes turned to me. “Wow. You finally remembered.”

I smiled. “Or did you prefer the other name?”

“What do you think?” she challenged.

I got to work and took care of my patient. When I sat on my stool at the foot of the bed, I checked the swelling of her leg. It was still greater than I wanted it to be. In my line of sight, I noticed the book on her nightstand. It was untouched.

I pulled her gown back down and made my notes. Then I stood up. “Is there anything you need before I leave?”

Here it comes.

She stared at the soap opera on the TV. The volume wasn’t working so she was watching the subtitles. “No.”

No? She wasn’t going to bug me?

“Bye, Dr. James.”

Okay. That was too easy.

She seemed down today. “Mrs. Patelo, is there something on your mind?”

She shrugged. “I’m stuck in the hospital. That’s about it.”

I flipped through her chart quickly. “Where’s Mr. Patelo?”

“He died a few years ago.” She said it without sadness, just calm acceptance.

“Oh. Your children?”

She was quiet for a while. “I don’t have any children.”

“I thought you said you have a granddaughter?”

“I do. Actually, I have two. But their parents are worthless and horrible people. I want nothing to do with them, and they better not come near my grandbabies.” She said it calmly, without any rage.

I didn’t realize she was so lonely. I sat back down on the stool. Silence stretched for a while as I sat beside her. The pity rose in my heart, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Then I grabbed the book on her nightstand. “Can I read to you?”

For the first time, she smiled at me. “I would love that.”

I examined the cover. “Harry Potter?”

“It’s one of my favorite books.”

“I’ve never read it.”

“Now you will.”

I smiled then opened the book. Then I began to read.

She stared at my face while I read through the pages. The reading level was low, so it was easy to get through. I felt awkward at first but it became more natural as time went by.

When I got a page from my supervising physician, I shut the book. “I have to go.”

“Okay. Thank you for reading to me, Dr. James.”

I smiled. “No problem.”

She kept staring at me. “I don’t believe the façade you put on. You act like you don’t care about anyone but yourself but I know it isn’t true. Deep down inside, you’re a sweetheart.”

This woman was more observant than I gave her credit for. “Don’t tell anyone.” I gave her a wink.

“Why don’t you want anyone to know?” Her voice became serious.

I shrugged, not responding.

“Come on. You can tell me, dear.”

I didn’t know this lady very well, but I felt strangely comfortable around her. She was honest and blunt but she was also gentle and loving, very maternal. Plus, she didn’t know who I was, and after her visit was over, I’d never see her again. “I guess I don’t want anyone to like me.”

She examined my face, watching every time I blinked and every time I breathed. “Why?”

“Because if they like me, they’ll get close to me.”

“And what’s bad about that?”

“Because if you care about someone, they can hurt you.” It was something I knew too well. “If you’re never close with anyone, you’ll be safe.”

“Who hurt you?”

Why was I telling this lady this? “My sister…something horrible happened to her. I was always withdrawn before but now I want everyone to stay away from me. My heart has already been broken. I couldn’t bare it if it broke again.”

She processed my words for a moment. “Your sister passed away?”

“No. Worse.”

“What?” she asked gently.

I hated saying the words. It made me sick. My sister was happy with Scotty. She didn’t seem haunted by her past, but it still killed me inside. I should have protected her. I was at that party. If I wasn’t busy being a jackass, I could have protected her. But I didn’t. “She was raped.”

Sadness came into her eyes. Then she reached out and grabbed my hand. “I’m so sorry, dear.” She seemed genuine. Her eyes squinted and her lip quivered.

“Thanks…I love her a lot. And I feel responsible for not protecting her.”

“Sometimes things are out of our control.”

I regretted a lot of things afterwards. I was a dick to her, constantly putting her down for becoming so reclusive to the world. Instead of helping her get back on her feet, I pushed her down. Even if I didn’t know why she was behaving that way, I should have been more sensitive. “She’s better now but…it still gets under my skin. I have nightmares about it.”

She rubbed my knuckles. “Your pain will pass in time.”

I had a feeling it wouldn’t.

My pager went off again. “Sorry, I have to go.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Until our next meeting.”

“Yeah…”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Alaska

When I got a call from Livia, I didn’t know what to expect. All she said was she wanted to meet me. She didn’t explain why. What could a renowned artist have to say to me? We dealt with different mediums, but she was still a much better artist than I was. She captured images from her mind, not from reality. And that was an accomplishment in itself.

She walked into the coffee shop, wearing a purple sundress. I knew it was she the moment she stepped through the door. All the guys turned their heads, looking at her legs. Even I was looking.

She came to my table and greeted me. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” I expected to shake hands, but she hugged me instead. I was surprised by her warmness. Artists tended to be cold and withdrawn.

She sat across from me. “So, how’s it going?”

“Great. I’m just trying to pick out my favorite pieces to put in the gallery.”

“That could take a while,” she said with a laugh. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

I hoped this wouldn’t be bad news.

“I know this is a little weird, but I was inspired by your pictures.”

Okay…

“What if you took a picture and then I painted it? We could sell the photograph and the painting side by side. People would see an artist’s interpretation of reality, and they could have two opinions of the same idea.”

It was very unorthodox.

“I thought it would be cool to do for a showcase, not forever. It could be a collaboration of two artists, something that hardly ever happens. I ran the idea by Rydell and he liked it. He’s always looking for new ways to attract new people to his gallery.”

It was an idea I never would have conceived in a million years, but that didn’t make it a bad one. “I think we should do it.”