Dakota Love (42 page)

Sarah’s lips curved into a mischievous grin. “Guess that’s up to you, Walt.” She patted his back. “She’s the nurse you hired.”

Using a little too much gusto, Lil Hayes dumped the grocery bags onto the miniature countertop. The plastic bags slid across the laminate counter, releasing cans onto the floor. Chasing cans down the short hall that led to her bedroom wasn’t her top priority; instead she stashed the milk and eggs in the refrigerator. Slinging her laptop bag over her shoulder, she stepped out the door, almost missing the aluminum step attached to her fifth wheel.

Stopping long enough to push the door closed—she didn’t need the gale-force winds springing open her camper’s door—she listened for the click of the latch before turning to walk across the gravel driveway.

The whine of semi tires speeding down the interstate, along with the roar of the combine in the neighboring field, gave a new meaning to the phrase “quiet country life.”

In her haste Lil kicked up gravel in the driveway. A pebble slipped into the vent hole of her Crocs like a hole in one. She stopped her speed walk to the house to tap the stone back out. As she did so, her bag slid off her shoulder and down her arm, dragging her cardigan sleeve with it.

Rock-free, she picked up her pace to cover the short distance between her campsite and Walt’s home.

He’d arrived earlier than she’d expected, or maybe not. She’d dragged her feet leaving for this assignment. Had she known this patient was a Vietnam veteran, she’d have declined the job and been halfway to her winter spot in Texas.

Tiffany, her boss, talked her into one more assignment before she, Lil, snow-birded out of South Dakota. She’d argued that Lil was closer to the patient’s age and would be more understanding. After signing the contract, Lil learned Walter Sanders had served in Nam. She felt honored to nurse veterans of other wars back to health. Nam, not so much. Too many bad memories, but maybe caring for Walt Sanders would be her chance for redemption.

Lil sighed. Maybe Walt was a trouper and the assignment wouldn’t last the full six weeks that her contract listed. But none of that mattered right now because she was late.

Although the nursing contract didn’t specifically state that she had to be present when the patient arrived home, she liked to be there in the event he needed help exiting the car, crossing over the threshold, or lying down, or just to instill peace of mind that he wasn’t alone.

Her plastic shoes snapping against the sidewalk, she lifted her head to see two sober young faces alongside a creased face with a clenched jaw and spaghetti-western showdown eyes peering through the window. At her.

Defensiveness rallied every nerve in her body. How long had they been watching? Obviously long enough to see her roar into the driveway. Perhaps that’s what caused the sour look on his face. Or maybe he was in pain from the surgery.

Stopping for a moment to compose herself, she realized that in her haste, she wasn’t presenting a very professional or competent picture. Readjusting her sweater and laptop bag, she finger-combed the curls tickling her cheek and tucked them behind her ear. That was the best she could do with her mad mess of curly hair most days. Sometimes it even helped to have the wind beat them into submission. She sent up a little prayer that that was the case today.

With her natural stride she walked up to the entrance. Just as she reached for the storm door handle, a young man opened the door.

She stepped backward, expecting to see the pixie of a girl she’d checked in with. “Hi, I’m Lil Hayes.”

“I’m Mark Sanders, Walt’s nephew.” He stepped aside while holding the door open with his outstretched arm.

“They must have raced through your uncle’s release paperwork,” Lil said as she crossed the threshold.

A gruff baritone barked from behind the door. “Nope. Only one speeding is you.”

So pain wasn’t the cause of the lemon-sucking look she’d witnessed on her patient’s face.

“I have speed limits posted.”

She hadn’t been driving
that
fast. Lil gulped down the defensive rebuttal on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot. “I ran late and I like to be here when my patient arrives, so I hurried a little.”

“A little.” A snort from the senior Sanders echoed through the kitchen.

Obviously she’d already gotten off on the wrong foot. Might as well defend herself. Stepping around Mark, she placed her hand on her hip, pulling herself to her full height of six feet. Practiced at using her extra inches as a towering intimidation device to get her own way, her retort rolled off of her tongue. “You’ve never been a little late? Driven a little too fast?”
Let he who’s not sinned cast the first stone
.

“Nope, always leave on time.” Walt’s eyes found hers, accepting her challenge, and their stare-down began. His hazel eyes were mesmerizing, daring her to make another remark, of any kind.

The buzz of the refrigerator and offbeat breathing of people cut through the tense silence. Her trained ears caught the respiration of one, two, three people. Someone was holding his or her breath, waiting for the fight to start. She guessed it was Sarah.

“Whoever is holding their breath better release it. I was only hired to care for one person.” Her raised eyebrow goaded Walt to draw another gibe from his arsenal.

“Well.” The word whooshed as Sarah exhaled. “I think we need to rewind here.”

Lil studied her patient. Although he bent over the walker, she guessed his height about five foot eight like his nephew, with the same broad shoulders and husky build, but Walt carried about twenty pounds more than Mark around his torso. Could be the cause of his high blood pressure as indicated in her case file.

Sarah’s words reminded Lil that Walt’s mind and body had been through the trauma of surgery. Dropping her arm to her side, Lil smiled. Walt proved to be a worthy opponent, not bothered by their height difference.

“Walt, I am sorry that I sped through your driveway. I assure you it will not happen again. Please accept my apology.”

His gaze held hers as the walker scraped across the floor toward her, his lips moving as he recited some sort of silent mantra. He angled his path, and when he was beside her he gave a quick nod of his head, the only indication that she was forgiven.

Lil surveyed the living area, something she should have done prior to Walt’s arrival. Small, cozy, and uncluttered. Perfect elements for rehabilitation. A paneled living room extended from the kitchen and from this angle appeared to be rectangular.

A soft groan alerted her that Walt had sat down. She turned and smiled at Sarah and Mark before going over to the table. “You have a cozy home. Just the perfect size—”

“For one? That’s what everyone says.” Walt hung an arm over his walker and laid his other arm on the table, breathing deeply from the excursion.

“I was going to say the perfect size for recovery from hip surgery.” Lil pulled out the kitchen chair closest to Walt and sat down. She lifted bag to the table and pulled out a file. “There are a few things we need to go over.”

“Now might be a good time for us to head home.” Mark walked over to Walt and patted his shoulder.

Walt twisted the walker into position. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Not this time.” Sarah wrapped her arms around Walt’s neck in a loose hug. “You sit here and rest.”

Walt reached up a hand and patted her arm. “Can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done. Appreciate it.”

Although the words were simple, Lil heard the fondness for the young couple inflected in Walt’s tone. Her heart began to warm toward her patient. Perhaps this was the real Walt and what she’d seen so far were the aftereffects of the surgery and meds.

“You call me if you need anything, although I think you’re in capable hands.” Mark grinned at Lil and shrugged his shoulders as Walt harrumphed at his statement.

If Mark thought his uncle was a hard case, he needed to think again. Her first nursing assignment turned out to be her toughest. He’d been a Vietnam vet, too. Lil shivered. Nothing since had compared to that experience, and that was saying something, considering she had worked the night shift in the emergency room most of her career.

“It was nice to meet you, Lil.” Sarah shook her hand again.

“Bye,” Mark said.

Walt lifted a hand and gave him a salute. “See ya.”

Getting right down to business, Lil began, “Did they send home any prescriptions or did you stop and pick some up?”

Walt nodded. “We picked some up.”

“Where are they?”

“In my bag.”

Lil looked around the kitchen. “Where is that?”

“In the bedroom.” Walt nodded toward the door on the opposite end of the adjoining wall to the living room. He started to stand. “I’ll get them.”

“I’ll get them. You stay sitting.” Her authoritative tone drew raised eyebrows from Walt as she slipped off the chair and rushed across the kitchen. Like squealing tires on pavement, her plastic shoes squeaked her halt on the vinyl floor. She turned to Walt. That was the second time he’d tried to stand after having just taken a seat. “Unless you’re uncomfortable sitting.” Sometimes the pressure of sitting aggravated the incision.

When his tired eyes met hers, she knew. “Would you like to lie down for a while and do all of this later?”

The relief covering his features was the only answer she needed.

“Do you remember when you took your last pain pill?”

Walt held the edge of the table as he stood. “Just before lunch.”

“I’ll get your room ready and find your pain medication, unless you need help?”

With pursed lips Walt shook his head, but Lil noticed a slight grimace as he put weight on his right foot.

Pride. Male patients, especially veterans, were the worst in that way, wanting to be tough all the time. Lil walked over to the door, glancing over her shoulder every few minutes to make sure Walt was doing okay. Slowly but surely, he was making his way across the ten-foot width of the room.

Entering the bedroom, she found his overnight bag on the bed and began to unzip it. The room silenced. The walker stopped its rhythmic clacking thump against the slick flooring. “Taking a rest?” she called over her shoulder as she grabbed the prescription bottle stuck in the outside side pocket of a carry-on bag that had seen better days.

Her only answer was a vibrating rattle.

“Walt!” Lil dropped the plastic container and ran for the kitchen.

S
louched forward over the walker, Walt’s eyes met Lil’s, sending a silent plea. Lil’s heels took a beating from the flap of her shoes in the seconds it took to reach her patient. She slipped her shoulders under Walt’s right arm and braced as his weight sighed against her body.

“Don’t know what happened. I feel real weak.” Walt sucked in deep, heavy breaths.

This was her fault. Why had she left her patient alone? She’d only done that one other time and had learned a hard lesson in the process. She knew why she’d left this one by himself. She’d been too distracted with being late,
and right
, that she didn’t access her patient the way she should have upon his arrival home.

“Your body’s been through a lot. Weakness is not uncommon.”

Lil scanned the room. Metal cabinets with Formica countertops ran across the length of the room and ended just before the bedroom door. If he could make it over to the counter, it would give him something to lean against for support while he rested. Then maybe she could leave him alone long enough for her to get a chair.

With her body as security, the heaviness of Walt’s breathing lessened along with the rattle of the walker.

“Do you think you can make it over to the counter? That will give you something stable to hold on to or lean against while I get you a chair.” Lil bent down further, trying to adjust her height to his to keep from stretching his body at an upward angle. She turned her face to Walt’s, his squared jaw set at a defiant angle.

“I think I can make it to the bedroom, if you let go of me.”

The words snipped out of Walt, but his head remained down with his body weight still transferred to Lil’s shoulders.

His spirit was willing but his flesh was weak. “Don’t try to be a hero.”

“Too late for that. It’s what got me in this predicament in the first place.”

The warm breath from Walt’s huff of disgust tickled her hand resting on the walker.

“Let go. I feel fine now.” Walt tried to shake free of Lil’s grasp. She felt a small tremor in his muscles and tightened her hold.

“Nice try. You move the walker, then we’ll take a step together.” Dampness soaked through his shirt where her hand rested on his waist.

To her amazement, he didn’t argue but scooted the walker a few inches, then took a shaky step. She baby-stepped with his pace, mindful of the space between their feet so she didn’t trip him.

“You’re doing great,” Lil encouraged, even though his struggle was revealed in his white-knuckled grip on the walker and the tremble in his leg that brushed up against hers.

Walt stopped. More weight shifted to Lil’s shoulder as he lifted his left hand from the walker. Lil watched him swipe a trickle of perspiration from the side of his face by his ear, wishing she could swat her own drops of exertion away.