A Healing Love

For the moment Laura felt refreshed, but she dreaded the long hours of limited activity, fearing her lethargy would return. She returned to Brad Jeremiah’s room to begin the long vigil again.

Several hours elapsed before she left him to check on Tom Watson and grab a bite to eat in the staff dining hall, after instructing the nurses to page her the moment they detected any change in the patient. Just as she was finishing her coffee, the PA announced her number, directing her to the surgical floor.

Five minutes later Laura alighted from the elevator. “What’s up, Hilda? Dr. Jeremiah awake?”

The short, ample nurse in her late fifties raised one lightly penciled brow. “So that’s his name, eh? No, but Tom Watson was asking for you.”

Laura took the chart Hilda handed her and walked swiftly through the door next to the nurses’ station. Tom Watson lay in the bed nearest the door, his eyes wide and alert. When he saw the young doctor, he grinned broadly, softening his homely features into pleasant contours beneath his bandaged head.

“How are you feeling, Tom?”

“I’m hurtin’ some, Dr. Laura, but thanks be to the Good Lord and you I can feel something, even if it is a little pain. That was a close call and I just wanted to thank you.”

“You’re right Tom—it was the Good Lord. Physicians can operate and medicate, but the miracle of healing is still in His hands. You can thank Him that you’ll be almost as good as new in a few months if you’re faithful to your therapy.”

“Aye, that I’ll be. Jenny and the kids—they’ll be needing me. I don’t know what I’ll do until then.”

“We’ll figure out something, Tom. You just worry about getting well.”

“Anyhow, thanks, Doctor.”

Laura took Tom’s hand and squeezed it, smiling. “That was my pleasure. I’ll check in on you later. I have another patient in the next room, so I’ll be here all night if you need me.”

Tom’s lopsided grin peeped from beneath the heavy bandages. “That’s comforting to know, Doctor.”

Laura said a quick goodbye and rushed down the hall to the Jeremiah room. She pushed open the door, only to find the scene much as it was when she’d left it, except now only one nurse, lovely and young Gretchen Evans, sat at the temporary station, poring over charts.

The blond, green-eyed girl looked up when Laura entered and smiled. “Dr. Laura, I was just about to page you. His condition is stable, but he’s been stirring some and mumbling. Shall I take his blood pressure for you?”

Laura returned the young nurse’s smile, shaking her head. She liked Gretchen. The daughter of a miner, she had grown up in Wales and been educated in England, then continued her specialized training in America by taking some graduate courses in Kentucky. Her clipped British accent mingled with the slow Southern cadence spoken in the hospital, creating a strangely pleasing mixture of sounds.

“No, thank you. I will. Suppose you go on to supper. Stop on your way out and tell Hilda you’re leaving.”

Gretchen looked at her watch and nodded. “See you at half past the hour unless I hear from you before then.”

Laura picked up the patient’s chart and walked toward the bed, her crepe-soled shoes making whispering sounds on the hard shiny floor. When she reached the bedside, she unbuttoned her jacket and took a stethoscope and a small flashlight from her skirt pocket.

Pausing for a moment, she studied the patient. His color was good; his breathing appeared normal; but his creased brow and the hard set of his mouth indicated that either his dreams were unpleasant or he was experiencing some pain.

She leaned closer. He moaned slightly and the frown deepened as his dark-brown eyes opened to stare blankly into hers.

Laura drew back at the intensity in them, catching her breath in an inaudible gasp; yet she seemed powerless to take her eyes from his. In that unguarded moment before full consciousness arrived, his eyes revealed pure, agonizing heartbreak while at the same time blazing with a fire and vitality that sent shock waves to Laura’s innermost being.

She remained close to him, mesmerized by what she saw, yet feeling like an intruder as he grappled to return to consciousness. For a moment she had gazed into the very soul of this man and, unknown to him, witnessed some deep, unidentified longing that tormented him. It both awed and fascinated her.

So entranced by what she saw, she failed to notice one muscular arm move from beneath the sheet. Suddenly, with lightning speed and inconceivable strength, it encircled her neck while his other hand grasped a handful of her hair. He pulled her face to his.

“Mona, Mona. Why? Why?” he groaned as his lips claimed hers.

Too stunned to recoil and too afraid of injuring him by forceful resistance, Laura closed her eyes and waited, locked motionless in the man’s embrace, waiting for the inevitable. She knew that soon the adrenaline would expend itself and he would slip limply from his semiconscious state back into oblivion, where he would have no painful recall of the past few moments.

Not so for Laura. Her heart thumped wildly and her inner ears reverberated with the name Mona. Who was she? The source of his agony, perhaps. She knew the answer. His kiss had told her. It contained no tenderness, only a commanding possessiveness. But what about Darlene?

He released her lips and his eyes closed. When Laura turned her head slightly, his arm locked like a vice around her neck and his fingers pulled her long thick hair.

Pushing against the bed with her hands, she maneuvered her body gently, straining to take some of her weight off him, hoping the gentle resistance would free her without injury to him, but his grip only tightened.

She groped for the emergency light and it fell with a clatter to the hard floor. Rising anxiety pumped Laura’s heart even more wildly; she was trapped.

She considered her alternatives. She could ring for Hilda, but by the time help arrived Laura might be free. Anyway, she’d just as soon the affable but talkative nurse didn’t find her in this situation. It would be the sole topic of hospital conversation by morning and for weeks to come.

She muffled a gasp. Her momentary position was not only embarrassing but painful. If he didn’t relax his hold soon she would be forced to call for assistance. The door opened quietly behind her and she heard soft footsteps in the room. Laura whispered, “Hilda? I need some assistance.”

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