"Oh, I'm sorry.  Is that you Dr. Norma?"

He'd impatiently waited for this day to finally come and now he'd begun to doubt the wisdom in ignoring propriety.  He forged on, because his silence was bordering on rude.

"Miss Zelle...this is Lucien Delors...I don't want to intrude, but would you mind if I come in to visit you?"

The reporter on the news was talking about a drought in another part of the world and when she didn’t respond he imagined that perhaps she’d been listening to the story.  Or maybe her hesitation had been her response.  Perhaps, the silence was her way of answering in the negative.  He'd leaned in, placing his ear near the doorframe.  His concentration had been so intent, he didn’t hear Rachel’s approach when she’d joined him.  She was holding the large vase beautifully arranged with a tasteful grouping of out of season flowers.  The aroma was heavenly.  Rachel whispered....

"She's really modest.  Maybe I should go in first.  She might feel underdressed."

"But wasn't her brother just here not more than an hour ago?"

She rolled her eyes...

"I get your point, but you're preaching to the choir...I know just about as much as you do when it comes to these people."

She winked her eye then spoke loud enough to be heard over the TV.

"Ona...it's just me...Rachel, your nurse.  I'm in the hall with Lucien Delors.  May we come in?"

A few nail biting seconds passed, then finally Ona said...

"Yes.  You both may enter."

Rachel gestured for him to allow her to enter the room first.  When she stepped into the room, the nurse met her patients eyes, and her quick professional assessment told her that all was well, and Ona didn't appear to be in any pain or distress.  Lucien entered the room slowly, standing off to the side.  His eyes took in every facet of her.  He'd read the reports but nothing was like seeing something firsthand.  The large surgical bandage that had covered most of her head; it had been replace with a bandage more than half its size.  He didn't see continuous running IVs or a patient controlled morphine pump.  His eyes were doing their rounds, noticing all the changes, when his thoughts were interrupted by Rachel.

"Aren't these flowers absolutely beautiful."

Ona's attention had been fixed on the man.  She'd never been in the company of any man alone outside of her Sect.  And she'd never seen a man more handsome than this man.  His face was clean shaven and looked as soft and flawless as a newborn babes behind.  He was impeccably dressed in a tailored ash grey designer suit.  Ona wanted to study him more, but after hearing her nurse referring to flowers, she had not noticed the floral extravaganza.

"Oh my!" Was her comment and Ona's remark sparked a chuckle out of her nurse.  Rachel addressed Lucien...

"I guess that means that she likes them."

Lucien said...

"Miss Zelle...I did some research, and I didn't find any information about you not being able to accept flowers as a get well gift. I hope I haven’t offended you in any way--and if I have, please accept my apology and I’ll instruct the nurse to remove them."

Actually, when it came to the Samaritan Sect, the internet had been a hollow hole.  Every article had been written from an outsiders point of view, and the sum of their impressions had been nothing more than inconsequential ramblings.

Ona's lips parted because she didn't know what to say. Samaritan’s were givers and she’d never been on the receiving end.  She nodded, then said...

"Thank you Mr. Delors--and you needn’t concern yourself because you have not offended me.  The flowers are beautiful."

Ona could feel a warmth originating at the base of her neck, spreading up, then fanning out across her cheeks.  She was blushing, so she lowered her eyes to avoid his gaze.  Rachel caught sight of this, then she froze, stunned by this visual portrait.  Her sight volleyed, studiously observing Ona and Lucien with disbelieving eyes.  They appeared to be in another world; a universe where she didn’t exist to them.  But...was she misinterpreting this scene?  Perhaps, their probing eyes, and Ona’s shy aversion was a mixup, misread by her brain.  However, if she was right, then this would be a first for her.  Until now she had never considered that Samaritan women could be attracted to anyone outside of their tight-knit community.  On the other hand--Lucien Delors was a literal heartthrob and she recalled the first day she’d met him in person.  Rachel had dreamed about the man for weeks, and even now, she would force back girlish giggles whenever their paths crossed.  For all that, Rachel had not pegged Ona as the girlish type.  During her recovery, she’d appeared innocent and demure; lacking crucial information pertaining to the real world.  Yet, here she was with cheeks so red, if the force of nature could be bottled, her attraction could fuel a rocket bound for Mars.  In spite of her amazement, Rachel dismissed her musings because she had paved the way for Lucien to visit his guest.  Hence, she’d accomplished her goal, and she was free to return to the nurses station.

When she spoke, she ignored the elephant in the room.

Rachel said...

"I'll leave you two alone, if that's all right with you Ona."

Ona stared at her nurse, but her expression was a duplicitous blur.  On one hand, she looked like she was begging Rachel to stay, then on the other hand, she looked like she didn't know what she wanted.  Of course, this was a no brainer for Rachel.

"If either of you need anything--press the call light."

With that said, the nurse crossed the floor, leaving them to talk alone.

Lucien said...

"Do you mind if I sit?"

"Oh no.  Where are my manners.  Please...sit.  I'm sorry for not offering you a chair."

"You are the patient...you shouldn't worry yourself over manners."

"But, it isn't polite not to be gracious when receiving guest."

He strode across the room, and along the edges of her cast, when her toes wiggled then curled; she could feel the plaster reminding her that both legs were broken.  She was nervous, mesmerize by his manner and there was something grand about his gestures.  His motions demanded a response and he held her, captivated by an emotion she couldn’t rightly define.   Each movement appeared to be finely tuned; almost as if he’d practiced or choreographed each gesticulation or wave of his body.  He walked with a self-assured glide.  He took paces that exuded his masculinity.  Ona felt compelled to watch him, and that made her feel like a butterfly, trapped in a sealed jar.  Safe from predators; all the while, craving a breath of wind beneath wings spread wide in flight.

Lucien chose a chair pushed beneath a desk, then he crossed the floor, placing the chair beside her bed.  He didn’t realize that he’d been ogled.  He adjusted his suit-coat to make himself comfortable before sitting.  While he did this, their eyes met, and an easy smile spread his lips.  She shyly smiled, because his straight white teeth tugged at her lips, demanding some form of acknowledgement.  There were so many wonderful features that made his smile gleam with perfection.  She was staring at him again, and in her head an inner voice reminded her that staring was rude.  But she couldn’t help herself, because in comparison she imagined that to him, she must look like a train-wreck.  Ona lowered her lids, feeling a rush of embarrassment.

She appeared uncomfortable, and Lucien noticed this.  He wanted to put her at ease, so he said...

"So...have they been taking good care of you?"

Her lids popped up.

"Oh yes.  They've been absolutely wonderful.  Everyone."