Working at the hospital Grace had long ago become used to the idea that (except for the ones who left feet first) you rarely found out what happened to the people you met. You shared a few intense hours with them at a crisis in their lives and then they were gone forever. Sometimes there would be a card or a thank-you note, but usually -- nothing. Which explained why she was so startled one afternoon three weeks later when, hearing a quiet tap on her half-open office door, she looked up to see Logan in the hallway. "Hi," he said.
Now what is he doing here? Grace thought suspiciously. For a lot of reasons, he wasn't high on her list of patients she'd love to run into again. Her reaction must have shown pretty clearly on her face because he quickly went on, "I was here to see my doctor and I thought I'd stop by." There was just the slightest hint of mischief in his voice as he added, "You seem to have recovered from your misadventures."
"So do you," Grace replied, realizing as spoke that she meant it. The bruise was gone, the cut was nearly healed, and his eyes had lost the exhausted, frantic look of their previous meetings. In fact, she noticed for the first time that they were very nice blue eyes. But somehow her words seemed to have hurt him; the look of pain that had crossed his face when she returned the earpiece was back. "I'm getting by," he replied tightly, and Grace realized that although his body was healing, his spirit was not. Again she felt slightly ashamed of herself. "Would you like to come in?" she asked, thinking that he didn't look so menacing after all, here in her territory, with that expression on his face. And she could always call Security if he pulled out a weapon, she told herself wryly.
"Do you have a minute? There is something I want to say." He tried to enter but this was the oldest part of the hospital, dating from well before the turn of the century, and the doorway was too narrow to allow the wheelchair through. It bothered Grace to watch him maneuver so determinedly; quickly she stood up and said, "Hey, it's nice out for a change. Let's not hang around in here. There's a place we can talk outside." He nodded.
At the end of the hallway a door led to a courtyard formed by the two wings of the old building and two wings of the more modern buildings. Brick paths wond around old trees that shaded grass and benches where hospital staff, patients, and families could escape the hospital sounds and smells for a while. Grace often came here to think. Sometimes, it was a good place for people to talk. She took the path that led to the corner of the courtyard enclosed by the old building, where under a tree there was a bench set a little apart from the others, and the only sounds besides distant traffic were the rustle of leaves and the ring of wind chimes someone had hung from a low branch. On a rare sunny day like today, it was one of Grace's favorite places, but Logan seemed not to notice his surroundings. As soon as Grace sat down on the bench he said, "I, ah, I definitely owe you an apology for my behavior -- no, wait," he said, holding up a hand as Grace began to object. "You've been kind to me, and I've been rude to you. It's been ... a very bad time. Which is not an excuse for you ending up with a gun to your head."
"I'm the one who's sorry," Grace said, feeling her face redden at the memory of her impulsive behavior. "Like I said, I really don't go around sneaking into people's homes ..." There it was again, that look of pain! Later, when she knew him better, she understood what she had done to cause it, but there in the garden she had no idea why she was upsetting him. As if he hadn't heard her, he went on, "I also want to thank you for returning what you did. It once belonged to .. a friend. I'm grateful to have it back. Sentimental reasons." He looked away, across the courtyard. His eyes were shadowed.
"You're welcome," was all she could think of to say.
"Anyway, this is entirely up to you, and please say no if you're not interested, but I've been lucky enough to get my hands on some nice food. Kind of a get-well present. I'm a decent cook and I'd like you to share it, to say thanks for what you've done for me."
Dinner? Grace thought in astonishment. Is he hitting on me? One of the very few things she had learned about him during the ride home from his apartment was that the man she had mistaken for his boyfriend was in fact no such thing, nor was he named Max. His name was Bling and he worked for Logan in some unspecified capacity. And Grace had been around the hospital long enough to know that even the kind of injury that had put Logan in his wheelchair wasn't necessarily a showstopper when it came to sex. Besides, it was her policy not to become personally involved with patients, especially not the ones who were dumped on hospital doorsteps in the dead of night and who employed armed bodyguards. No, she had to turn him down ...
She opened her mouth to politely refuse. At that moment a breeze stirred, gently sounding the wind chimes and moving sunlight and shadow over the man next to her. A shaft of light gleamed silver on one wheel of the chair; another momentarily highlighted the scar on his cheek. Grace was unexpectedly moved. A lot of suffering for such a young man. Maybe he meant her no harm at all; maybe he was just reaching out. Maybe responding to that was something she was meant to do. So before she could change her mind, Grace said yes.
Now what is he doing here? Grace thought suspiciously. For a lot of reasons, he wasn't high on her list of patients she'd love to run into again. Her reaction must have shown pretty clearly on her face because he quickly went on, "I was here to see my doctor and I thought I'd stop by." There was just the slightest hint of mischief in his voice as he added, "You seem to have recovered from your misadventures."
"So do you," Grace replied, realizing as spoke that she meant it. The bruise was gone, the cut was nearly healed, and his eyes had lost the exhausted, frantic look of their previous meetings. In fact, she noticed for the first time that they were very nice blue eyes. But somehow her words seemed to have hurt him; the look of pain that had crossed his face when she returned the earpiece was back. "I'm getting by," he replied tightly, and Grace realized that although his body was healing, his spirit was not. Again she felt slightly ashamed of herself. "Would you like to come in?" she asked, thinking that he didn't look so menacing after all, here in her territory, with that expression on his face. And she could always call Security if he pulled out a weapon, she told herself wryly.
"Do you have a minute? There is something I want to say." He tried to enter but this was the oldest part of the hospital, dating from well before the turn of the century, and the doorway was too narrow to allow the wheelchair through. It bothered Grace to watch him maneuver so determinedly; quickly she stood up and said, "Hey, it's nice out for a change. Let's not hang around in here. There's a place we can talk outside." He nodded.
At the end of the hallway a door led to a courtyard formed by the two wings of the old building and two wings of the more modern buildings. Brick paths wond around old trees that shaded grass and benches where hospital staff, patients, and families could escape the hospital sounds and smells for a while. Grace often came here to think. Sometimes, it was a good place for people to talk. She took the path that led to the corner of the courtyard enclosed by the old building, where under a tree there was a bench set a little apart from the others, and the only sounds besides distant traffic were the rustle of leaves and the ring of wind chimes someone had hung from a low branch. On a rare sunny day like today, it was one of Grace's favorite places, but Logan seemed not to notice his surroundings. As soon as Grace sat down on the bench he said, "I, ah, I definitely owe you an apology for my behavior -- no, wait," he said, holding up a hand as Grace began to object. "You've been kind to me, and I've been rude to you. It's been ... a very bad time. Which is not an excuse for you ending up with a gun to your head."
"I'm the one who's sorry," Grace said, feeling her face redden at the memory of her impulsive behavior. "Like I said, I really don't go around sneaking into people's homes ..." There it was again, that look of pain! Later, when she knew him better, she understood what she had done to cause it, but there in the garden she had no idea why she was upsetting him. As if he hadn't heard her, he went on, "I also want to thank you for returning what you did. It once belonged to .. a friend. I'm grateful to have it back. Sentimental reasons." He looked away, across the courtyard. His eyes were shadowed.
"You're welcome," was all she could think of to say.
"Anyway, this is entirely up to you, and please say no if you're not interested, but I've been lucky enough to get my hands on some nice food. Kind of a get-well present. I'm a decent cook and I'd like you to share it, to say thanks for what you've done for me."
Dinner? Grace thought in astonishment. Is he hitting on me? One of the very few things she had learned about him during the ride home from his apartment was that the man she had mistaken for his boyfriend was in fact no such thing, nor was he named Max. His name was Bling and he worked for Logan in some unspecified capacity. And Grace had been around the hospital long enough to know that even the kind of injury that had put Logan in his wheelchair wasn't necessarily a showstopper when it came to sex. Besides, it was her policy not to become personally involved with patients, especially not the ones who were dumped on hospital doorsteps in the dead of night and who employed armed bodyguards. No, she had to turn him down ...
She opened her mouth to politely refuse. At that moment a breeze stirred, gently sounding the wind chimes and moving sunlight and shadow over the man next to her. A shaft of light gleamed silver on one wheel of the chair; another momentarily highlighted the scar on his cheek. Grace was unexpectedly moved. A lot of suffering for such a young man. Maybe he meant her no harm at all; maybe he was just reaching out. Maybe responding to that was something she was meant to do. So before she could change her mind, Grace said yes.