DAVID KEPT STARING, and Nychelle was the one who looked away first. It felt as though something important had just happened, yet she didn’t know what. Rushing to speak, she tried for a much less intimate subject, hoping to curtail the tension flowing between them.
“By the way, while I remember, our patient Carmen Fitzpatrick released a statement to the media about having sickle cell disease.”
“Really?” There was genuine surprise in his voice, and when she looked at him his eyebrows were raised. “I thought she was fanatical about her privacy?”
“She always has been, but maybe she decided it was better to do it when she wanted to, rather than have someone dig it up and blindside her—like you and her manager said might happen.”
“Hmm.” Leaning back, still staring intently at her, he asked, “How did you find out?”
“Martin’s daughter, Leighann, told me. Once the news broke she looked up the disease and had questions.” Nychelle shook her head. “Her parents are both doctors but she called me for information and to discuss it. Go figure.”
“She probably knows you’ll give it to her straight. Besides, you’re both fans, so it makes sense to talk to you about it rather than her parents.”
“I guess...”
She feigned interest in the passing scenery and pushed her sunglasses farther up her nose, still a little shaken by the strangely intimate moment they’d just shared. This man could upset her equilibrium like no one ever had before. The way he watched her, whether smiling or, like just now, with that serious, searching expression, just made her shiver.
Lost in thought, she was a little surprised when he reverted to their previous conversation.
“So, how do you know how long it takes to drive to Atlanta? Do you go there often?”
“A few times a year, usually, since my cousin Aliya—Martin’s little sister—moved there four years ago. I don’t always drive, but sometimes I just like the idea of a road trip.”
“You’re close?”
“Best friends practically since we were born.” She smiled at the thought of Aliya and her craziness, and her excitement at the thought of being an honorary auntie. “We spent all our time at each other’s houses...went to school together. Our families even migrated at the same time, so it was only when we went to college that we were first really apart.”
“Don’t tell me—she’s a doctor too?”
Nychelle nodded. “Uh-huh. An hematologist-oncologist, specializing in research into childhood hematological cancers and the effect of known cancer treatments on kids.”
David’s lips quirked. “You really do come from a family of overachievers, don’t you?”
Nychelle gave him a grin. “You know it.”
The boat had already stopped a couple of times to pick up passengers and was now once more edging toward shore.
“Ooh,” she said, pointing, hoping to distract him. “That’s the Stranahan House Museum. It’s reputed to be haunted and they sometimes have ghost tours, including a nighttime boat ride.”
David seemed less interested in the historic house than he was in her life, though.
“Why was it that you decided not to become a doctor too? It seems as though it’s a family tradition.”
She hesitated, torn between complete honesty and a slightly less revealing version of the truth. Today wasn’t the day to get too deep, she reminded herself.
Just keep it light.
“Overachieving requires a singularity of focus I’ve never truly been interested in. I wanted to have a life outside of work. Have room for days like today, when there’s nothing more pressing than drifting down a river, having a laugh or two.”
He leaned back against the cushions and even with his dark glasses in place she knew he was subjecting her to another of his intent stares. It caused little prickles of awareness to tiptoe along her spine.
“But I’m a doctor, and I’m here drifting down the river too.”
“Sure.” She nodded. “But how old were you when you finished your residency?”
“Thirty,” he replied.
“There you go.” She waved a hand for emphasis. “I’m not quite thirty yet, and I’ve been out of school and living my life for a while—whereas I’m sure you’ve had to put off a lot of stuff, make a lot of sacrifices, to get to where you are now. I’ve been able to do some traveling, save up for a house and advance my career, all within the frame of time it took you to graduate. That’s what I wanted, rather than MD after my name. Aliya is brilliant—she graduated far earlier than her peers and has already made a name for herself—but she admits she wishes she’d had more of a life when she was in college.”
There was much more to it, but she hoped he wouldn’t dig any deeper.
Trying to steer him off that track, she continued, “And you yourself said my job is just as important as yours. Did you mean it, or were you just trying to annoy my father?”
“Not at all.” David paused as the boat bumped the dock near Stranahan House, putting one large, warm hand on her arm as if to steady her. “I do believe it.” He grinned. “Besides, if I really wanted to aggravate your dad I’d have said your job was more important than mine—and his.”
She laughed at the thought of her father’s face if David had said that to him, and turned to watch as more passengers boarded the boat. There was a family of seven: parents, another couple who looked to be grandparents, and three children—the oldest no more than eight or so, the youngest just a baby in the mother’s arms. They all looked happy except for the baby, who appeared to be sleeping, and a pang of longing so strong it made her breath catch swept through Nychelle.
That was what she wanted. That was why she’d forgone the rigors of medical school for what her parents had called “a wasted opportunity.” Of course they would never understand. The concept of not wanting to be called Doctor, of believing there was more to life than work, was alien to them both.
The water taxi rocked as more people climbed on, and as though reacting to the motion the baby awoke, squirming, her face scrunched up in objection. Nychelle couldn’t help smiling, thinking about the life growing in her belly, and longing for the day she would be holding her own baby.
* * *
Nychelle was so focused on whatever it was she was looking at that David’s gaze followed hers to where a young woman sat, holding a squirming baby. In deference to the heat the baby was uncovered except for a pink and yellow onesie and a pair of rather snazzy striped socks. Her face was red with temper, her hair plastered down on one side and wildly curly on the other.
David instinctively looked away, as he always did when seeing a baby outside of a work setting. Yet, he found his gaze drawn back.
It was only then he realized that the hard pang of grief he used to feel whenever he saw a baby was absent.
When had that happened?
Now he waited for guilt to take its place—was shocked when there was no hint of that emotion either. Was he the same man who, on the anniversary of Natalie’s birth, suffered all the agony of losing a child as if it had just happened?
But that wasn’t quite right, either. He remembered what it had been like when it had happened. The agonizing, almost paralyzing sense of loss. The inability to think about anything other than Natalie. The urgent need to somehow turn back the clock and save her, even though logically he knew it was impossible.
He’d mourned on her last birthday, and still thought of her often, but not to the exclusion of all else. Not in the way he had at first, and for a long time after, when it had been a Herculean effort to see past the pain so as to go on with his life. A little at a time he’d learned to live with the knowledge that she was gone and was never coming back.
“Look, Mom. Look!”
A child’s excited shriek gave him a good reason to look away from the baby, to pretend interest in where the little girl was pointing, out into the river. Still lost in his ruminations, David hardly saw the ripples in the water, barely registered the flip of a large, dark tail and the lively chatter the brief appearance of the manatee had caused.
“Did you see it?”
“I did.” He nodded, wondering if she meant the manatee or the baby, since she’d been as intent on the latter as he.
“The first one you’ve seen since you came here?”
“Yes, although I still don’t think I’ve seen one properly,” he replied, aware of a dual meaning to his words that she wouldn’t understand, and gaining a chuckle from her.
“True. A tail does not a manatee make, right?” When he laughingly agreed, she said, “I’ve always wanted to go to the Three Sisters Springs, on the west coast, and see them where they winter. Apparently you can get a really good look at them there.”
“Why haven’t you?”
She lifted a hand to push her sunglasses firmly up on her nose. “My ex-fiancé didn’t like the outdoors much—preferred to holiday at casinos and resorts. Although it’s been a while since we broke up, I just haven’t made the trip.”
The news that she’d been engaged gave him a jolt, and it struck him then how little they really knew about each other. Their friendship had grown in fits and starts, without any of the revelations that would naturally have emerged had they been dating. He’d told her very little about himself too, so it wasn’t one-sided.
They’d agreed to keep things light between them today, but he didn’t think that meant they were barred from talking about themselves.
“You should go,” he said, leaning back and putting his arm along the cushion behind her, so the end of her ponytail brushed his hand. “When my marriage broke up I went white-water rafting. My ex refused to even consider it when we were together, and it was something I’d dreamt of doing since I was a child.”
“I thought I’d heard you’d been married but I didn’t want to bring it up, in case it was too painful.”
She was in profile to him, and he saw her eyes flick toward him behind her dark glasses. The sideways glance was accompanied by that habitual rubbing of her wrist, and it made him want to stroke her nape with a calming finger.
“It was a while ago, so not painful anymore.”
The divorce had stopped hurting, although some of what Kitty had said still lingered painfully, but talking about it would lead to deep waters.
The boat moved on and, looking back toward the shore, he said, “Tell me more about Stranahan House. What makes it so special anyway?”
“The man who built it is credited with being the founding father of Fort Lauderdale.” She visibly relaxed, turning to face him, her hands falling to rest on her lap. “It was built in the early nineteen-hundreds...”
As she gave him a mini-history lesson David took it all in—although it was less the story and more the sound of her voice and her expressive face that held his attention. When she’d finished the story, he said, “You know a lot about the history of the city.”
“I like history,” she replied. “If I hadn’t gone into nursing I’d probably have become a teacher.”
He could see her doing that—interacting with the kids, enjoying watching their young minds soaking up knowledge and growing.
“Why didn’t you go into pediatrics? You obviously love kids.”
“Aw, hell no.” Even though she chuckled, she didn’t sound amused. “My heart couldn’t stand it. Give me an adult in pain and I’m fine, but if it’s a child or, worse, a baby... I turn into a mess. My peds rotation was the hardest on me emotionally.” She shook her head slowly, her face taking on a faraway expression. “I almost quit nursing.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” Talking about it seemed to be taking her to a dark place—one he wondered at. “It was that bad, huh?”
“Yes, it was.”
She was still facing him, but David wondered if she was even seeing him.
“There were a couple of days that left me wondering what it was all about—if there was any reason to try to help. If it wasn’t for Aliya, I’d probably have snapped.”
He knew what she was talking about. He’d experienced some of those same emotions during his residency—times when he’d seen the worst human beings could do, and his faith and optimism had been stretched to breaking point.
Not wanting her to relive those hard times, he instinctively stroked her hand and said, “This must have been a fun place to grow up.”
She shrugged, leaving her hand where it was, beneath his. “I know it was for some people. I didn’t have the chance to enjoy it until I was older.”
Another sore subject. He could tell by the way her fingers clenched into a fist. But this one he didn’t want to skirt. “Why wasn’t it for you?”
She glanced toward shore and he heard the sound of the boat’s engines change. She’d said their stop was next, so hopefully she’d answer before they had to disembark.
Instead of answering, she asked, “You grew up poor, right?”
That was an understatement, but he simply said, “Yes.”
“So what did you do during the summer?” Nychelle raised her eyebrows. “Probably worked, right?”
“Yes.” He nodded slowly, wondering what she was getting at. “I helped my dad in his shop, and picked up whatever other jobs I could.”
“What else? Did your family spend some time together? Were there times when you got to do other stuff?”
“Sure.” Wasn’t that what childhood was all about? She seemed to be waiting for him to elaborate, so he continued, “When we were little Mary-Liz, Donny, our cousins, and I spent as much time as we could outdoors. Every now and then, when our parents could afford it, we’d spend a day at the beach or go camping. When I was a little older I’d save up my money to go to science camp.”
His parents had let him, instead of insisting he use the money to buy school supplies, although he’d done that too. Talking about it with Nychelle, he suddenly realized it had been a childhood of joy and wonder, despite the poverty.
“Sounds like hard work, but with fun to balance it out.” She tipped her chin up in an almost combative gesture. “For us—Olivia and me—everything was geared toward our futures in medicine, being prepared to get into the best colleges and ‘getting a leg up on the competition.’”
The way she enunciated the last words told him it was something she’d heard often.
“There wasn’t much room for good times under those circumstances.” She gently pulled her hand out from under his and reached for her bag. “We get off here.”
As they waited for the boat to dock he contemplated what she’d said. It wasn’t hard to believe. Having met her parents, he could imagine the pressure they’d put on their children. He’d gone to school with some people he suspected had been raised in a similar way. If they hadn’t got one hundred percent on a test, or aced a subject during a semester, they’d freaked, worried about what their parents would say. He’d even seen some of them crack under the strain, and knowing that made him admire Nychelle all the more. It must have taken immense strength of character to stand up to her parents and go her own way.
He’d had to work like a fiend to get to medical school—but not because his parents had been pushing him. For him it had been work to secure scholarships, to have enough money to get where he wanted to go. It was ironic to feel bad for Nychelle, knowing she’d come from such a wealthy family, and yet she had missed out on the joys of childhood because her parents were so single-minded.
“Well,” he said finally, as they stood on the dock waiting for the other water taxi to come so they could continue their adventure, “why don’t we make up for some of that lost time?”
Brow wrinkled, she asked, “What?”
“The fun times you missed as a kid.” He grinned. “Let’s make up for them.”
The beginnings of a smile tugged at her lips. “How do you suggest we do that?”
“Personally, all my childish fantasies involved ice cream and clothes that were bought specifically for me. What did you wish you could do in summers back then?”
Even behind the dark lenses of her glasses he could see her eyes widen.
“I don’t know,” she replied quickly, but then she shook her head. “I do know. I wanted to go to the beach and build sandcastles, or go to a water park.” She gave a little chuckle. “I was even jealous of my friends who complained they had to spend their vacations with their grandparents.”
David took her hand. “Well, if you give me ice cream I’ll build sandcastles with you. I’m pretty good at it, if I might say so myself. And if you don’t believe me we can call my niece and nephew to have them verify that fact.”
There was a moment of stillness between them, but David could feel Nychelle’s gaze almost drilling into him, as though she didn’t know how to react to his nonsense. And then she laughed: a full-bodied, throaty sound, echoing with what sounded like pure joy.
“You’re on,” she said, giving his fingers a squeeze. “And your skills had better not disappoint.”
“Oh, they won’t.” He gave her a jaunty grin for good measure, feeling lighter, happier than the simple moment really called for. “I promise.”