Chapter Eighteen

When Trapper entered Leah's room, he found her standing at the window, staring out. It seemed she hadn't heard the door open, so he knocked before stepping the rest of the way in.

"Hello Dr. McIntyre," she said almost absentmindedly without looking.

To Trapper's delight, there was no resentment in her voice at all. Yet, it still wasn't quite friendly…more uninterested. "How did you know it was me?" he asked, standing with his hands clasped in front of him.

"You have a unique scent." Trapper cocked his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. "There's a certain scent that every doctor and nurse in this hospital has; a faint antiseptic scent. Except you. I understand why you use lotion on your hands after washing them so much, but you don't use the lotion provided by the hospital. You have your own."

Trapper twisted his mouth and raised his brows, then took a deep breath, remembering why he had come. "Dr. Gates has removed all restrictions on your diet, so I thought you might enjoy a change of scenery for lunch."

She gave him an indifferent look, and turned back to the window. "Mark will be here in a few minutes to go over some work I have for him."

"I thought Dr. Gates asked you to stop."

"He did, but Dr. Matthews said it would be all right. I seem to have convinced him that my work is more therapeutic than stressful. It's something to occupy my mind instead of dwelling on…other things."

"So you're talking to Dr. Matthews now."

"Yes, but you knew that, didn't you? Isn't that my chart tucked under your arm?" Trapper pulled the chart out, but before he could respond, she asked, "Will you be here this evening?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Can I have a rain check? I think I'd like to get off this ward for awhile."

Smiling, he nodded, then took her arm and drew her toward the bed. "Dr. Gates is off today, so he asked me to check your sutures and see how you feel. How do you feel? Physically, I mean."

He pointed to the sash of her robe, and she untied it, slipping the robe off her shoulders as she sat on the side of the bed. "Well, I'm tired, but I suspect that's because I'm not getting any exercise. My incision is sore, but it's not completely healed. And my back hurts if I lay in bed too long. My butt hurts if I sit too long, so I stand. Other than the soreness in my chest, standing doesn't seem to bother me."

Reaching around to untie the back of her hospital gown, he pulled it down, and as he examined her incision, he asked, "Any shortness of breath?"

"No."

He placed his stethoscope on her back. "Take a deep breath for me. And another. Any dizziness or nausea?"

"No."

Moving the stethoscope to the front, he listened to her heart. "I don't hear anything I shouldn't," he said, smiling and dropping the scope into his coat pocket. Going back to her incision, he touched the edges. "Is that still sore?"

"A little."

"Do you think you can handle an echocardiogram? We'll have to cover the incision so the gel won't get into it. We'll have to press pretty hard to get an image."

"If I tell you to stop, will you?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay. I'll try." Stepping back, Trapper picked her chart up from the bedside table, and while he was writing, she asked, "When you look at me…like this…what do you see?"

He stopped writing and looked up over his glasses. "What do you mean?"

"Do you see a patient…a woman…or just someone you feel sorry for?"

He studied her for a moment and slightly creased his brow. She still wore a somewhat apathetic expression, so he was unsure what she was looking for. "Leah, I don't feel sorry for you. I'm certainly empathetic for you in your situation, but I don't pity you. You're only thirty-eight. You still have a lot of good years ahead of you, whether you choose to believe it or not."

"What about these?" she said, pointing to her scars. "As I understand it from listening to the nurses talk, you're a…an active man. Would this," she said, looking down at the two long scars on her chest, "…be offensive to…men?"

He hadn't realized he had tensed until he relaxed and turned up one side of his mouth in a half smile. "I suppose that would depend on the man. Personally, no. I prefer a woman with substance. The wrapping is just a bonus. And after seeing your insides…on several levels…as well as your outsides, I would say, kiddo, that you have a lot of substance." She hung her head and sighed deeply. Taking her hands, he continued warmly, "Leah, you're a beautiful woman. Those scars won't matter to someone worthy of you. But if it bothers you this much, you can have those scars almost completely eliminated."

"Are you finished?" His lower jaw slightly dropped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. Are you finished with this?" she asked, indicating her chest. He nodded, and she pulled the hospital gown back up. "I don't know that I want to be on an operating table again. At least for awhile," she said as she reached back to tie the back of her gown. "Do you think I could wear my own PJs now? I have tops and bottoms, and the top unbuttons in the front so you and Dr. Gates can have easy access."

"Do you have someone who can bring them?"

"They're already here. Ernie purchased a new set for me."

Trapper leaned forward slightly. "Ernie? Not Nurse Shoop?"

A knock on the door interrupted what might have been an enlightening conversation. "Come in," she said.

"Leah, do you still feel like doing this?" asked Mark. "Hello, Dr. McIntyre," he said, extending his hand.

"Mark. How are things in the basement?"

"Actually, John, since Leah's been able to do some work up here, we're staying busy down there. We even got the order for the new equipment in on time."

Turning to Leah, Trapper asked, "Are you getting paid?"

She looked up at the ceiling and puckered her lips. "Well, yes and no. Dr. Gates hasn't released me, so I'm not…officially…working, but I am getting paid…sort of. I'm on disability, and since the company is self-insured, they are paying me…technically."

Laughing, Trapper headed for the door. "I'll see you two later. I've got work to do elsewhere."

After two hours of answering questions and shuffling text, flow charts and schematics, Leah, who had been sitting on the side of her bed, reclined. Mark stood up from the only chair in the room and gathered all the papers into two neat stacks. "You're tired. I'm leaving."

"Mark," she said, holding her hand out to him. He took it and stood by the bed. "Thank you for all this. You didn't have to do any of it."

"You've always been like a big sister. I'll do anything for my sisters. Just ask them."

"Well, I guess it is the job of the big sister to torture the little brother, isn't it?"

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Yes, and as usual, you're doing a fine job." She laughed loudly. "It's good to hear that again," he said, smiling. "Now, get some rest. I'll go back downstairs and share the wealth. I left the stuff you're still working on over on the table."