From Brooding Boss to Adoring Dad (10 page)

“Pabla needs to know,” Coulson said.

“Will she care?” Erin didn’t think she would, which made her heart ache all the more for Tadeo.

“I’m going to roust out Davion and send him over here to help you while I go and confront …
tell
her what happened.”

“Could Davion do that?”

“Because you think I’ll say something I shouldn’t?”

“Because you’re too emotionally involved and, yes, I do think you’ll say something you shouldn’t. Not that Pabla doesn’t deserve it.”

“I’ll be fine. On my good behavior because Tadeo needs that from me.”

“Then I’ll take you at your word, Coulson, but would you get me some water before you go? I want to cool down his hands first, before anybody does anything else.”

“Back in a minute,” Coulson said, then bolted out the door like a man running for his life. Three minutes later, while she was still gathering supplies, Davion appeared with a bucket of water.

“He decided to go and have a talk with Miss Reyes right away, while he was still relatively calm.” He handed the bucket to Erin. “He’s pretty mad about this … not the boat but about how she doesn’t pay attention to Tadeo, and he doesn’t want to make things worse for the boy. Anyway, can I help you? I’ve never treated anything other than a first-degree burn before, but I can do whatever you need.”

“I’d love your help, Davion.” In spite of his promise to her, Erin didn’t imagine Coulson was going to be too amiable in his confrontation with Pabla Reyes. But maybe that was OK, because Tadeo needed someone on his side, someone to fight for him. Someone to be fierce. Coulson, it seemed, was that someone, and it did her heart good to see the depth of his emotion for the boy. In Tadeo’s life, that would make a difference. It would in Coulson’s life, too.

“If the second-degree burn is no larger than seven or eight centimeters in diameter, treat it as you would a minor burn. Cool it, cover it, control the pain. Luckily, Tadeo’s small hands won’t accommodate anything larger than seven centimeters, so we’re in luck. But the exception to that is if the burn area is larger, or it’s on the patient’s hands, feet, face, groin or buttocks, or even over a major joint. Then it has to be treated like it’s a major burn. In other words, urgent care.”

“So, Tadeo’s a pretty lucky kid,” Davion replied, more for Tadeo’s sake than anything else.

“Tadeo’s very lucky. And to prove it, he’s going to get some of the very best bandages I’ve ever done.” She smiled
at Tadeo, who looked so scared it broke her heart. Actually, these weren’t going to be easy wounds to manage, given his age and home circumstances, and she had an idea Tadeo understood that. “Now, there are several ways to cool a burn, but the first thing to remember is that you can never let a burn come into contact with ice. That can cause further damage, often tears the skin that’s still intact. But you can hold the burned area under cool running water for about fifteen minutes, which isn’t practical for us as the sink is too high for Tadeo to reach. So, do you know any other method of treatment?” she asked, feeling, for a moment, like she was Davion’s teacher. A little bit of Coulson rubbing off on her, she supposed.

“Cold compress. Or you can immerse the wound in cool water … like in a bucket. Sterile water’s the best, if you have it, which we don’t. However you do it, though, the reason is to reduce the swelling that’s going on by conducting the heat away from the skin.” He grinned. “Adam has taught me well.”

“Don’t underestimate your own ability, Davion. You have a gift for medicine.” She grabbed a stack of sterile gauze pads from the supply shelf, as well as a stack of wash rags.

“And I’ll be going to medical school in a few months.”

Once organized, she began to dip the rags in the water. “I didn’t know it was going to be so soon.”

“I was expecting to wait for a while, but Adam sold his hospital to get me there before I’m an old man. He’s been saying he applied for a scholarship for me, and he thinks I don’t know he’s the one going to pay most of my way. I’ve felt bad that he had to sell his hospital, but he did it before I knew what he was doing. So, because of what he’s done, I’m going to make sure he’s proud of me.”

“Don’t feel bad that he sold his hospital, Davion. When
you love someone, you want to make the sacrifices. That’s the best kind of life anybody can live, and even though he’s grumpy about it, that’s the kind of life Coulson lives, or lived, until I showed up. And I know for a fact that he’s very proud of you. Now, lay the compresses gently on Tadeo’s hands then switch the compress as soon as you feel it turning warm. You’ll be able to feel the heat from his burns radiating out. Keep applying them while I go and find something to take the edge off his pain. You wouldn’t happen to know what kind of pain medicine Coulson has on hand, would you? ”

“Ibuprofen. In the back room, not locked up.”

She was barely in the hall when Coulson came running, breathless, straight at her. “How is he?”

“Davion’s applying cold compresses right now, and I’m on my way to find ibuprofen. Tadeo’s not saying anything, being quite a little trouper, though. And Pabla?”

“Said she didn’t care, that if he got burned it was his own fault. She’s not going to pay for the treatment, by the way.”

Erin smiled. “Why am I not surprised?” She thought about Coulson and his two “sons” for a moment. Davion and Tadeo. They were lucky with Coulson the way she’d been lucky with her father. “Look, let me get the ibuprofen …”

No sooner had she spoken the words then Adam dashed off. Back in ten seconds, he held out the bottle. “He likes fruit juice. I don’t have any here, but I’ve got some in my cottage.”

She imagined he kept it there for Tadeo. Of course he would.

“He’s going to be fine,” Erin said, sitting down next to Adam in his clinic’s waiting room. He looked as on edge as any one person could look, which concerned her because
none of this was his fault, but he was taking the blame for it anyway. “Davion’s with him now, said he’d sit with him for a while. The pain meds have taken off enough of the edge of Tadeo’s pain that I think he’ll sleep comfortably for the rest of the night. And, Coulson, I really am sorry about your boat.”

“It was just a damn bunch of wood. No big deal.”

She knew it was, though. “Look, why don’t I relieve Davion … and you? Then you can get some sleep.”

“Sleep?”

“You know, where you shut your eyes, probably snore …”

“I don’t snore,” he snapped, then immediately shut his eyes, dropped his head back on the wall and let out a long, exasperated breath. “Look, Red. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“You lost something important,” she interrupted. “You’re entitled to your feelings.”

“It was a boat. I still have the memories. But what I may have lost is Tadeo, and that’s.” He shook his head. “That’s what’s got me madder than hell. An eight-year-old kid needs guidance, needs his mother, or in this case his guardian, to look after him. Tadeo doesn’t have that and I don’t know how to make it better for him.”

“Maybe you can’t,” she said gently. “Not everything can be fixed, and maybe Tadeo’s situation is one of them. I’m mean, we have limitations, Coulson. We can treat his burns, we can even treat his heart murmur, but anything else is overstepping ethical bounds. And I know that’s hard for you to accept. But what scares me for Tadeo right now is that because Pabla is so hostile to us, she’ll take it out on him.” She stood. “Look, I’m going back to my cottage, grab a pillow, change my clothes, and come back. Davion can go home … he needs his rest as much as you do as he’s getting ready for medical school. And, in the mean time,
this doctor is prescribing bed rest for the other doctor. No arguments.”

“I’m fine,” Davion said from the door to the exam room. “I’ve got some reading to do, and I’m good to go for the night. You two go on, and if I need anything, I’ll call.” He grinned. “We may not have cell phones out here, but I think I can manage a regular phone.”

“Point taken,” Coulson said, standing. “I’ll relieve you in three hours. That OK?”

“Take four,” Davion said. “You look like hell.”

“He has a way with words,” Coulson said, following Erin out the door.

“Right’s right, Coulson. You do look like hell. You take six hours, and I’ll relieve Davion in three. Doctor’s orders … again.” She headed off toward Trinique’s cottage, but Coulson reached out, grabbed her arm and stopped her.

“Where are you going?”

“My cottage isn’t ready to live in yet. I’ll probably stay at Trinique’s another day or so, until I can get to Port Wallace and buy a few necessities. You know, towels, bath soap, a bed …”

“Take my bed,” he said.

“What?”

“Trinique’s is too far to walk at this time of the night.”

“And you don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do. And I don’t want to. So bunk with me tonight.”

“Well, isn’t that just the nicest offer I’ve ever had to spend the night with a man?” she teased. “Like Davion, you seem to have a way with words, too.”

“Do you always do that, Red?”

“What?”

“Argue, for the sake of arguing. I’m tired, I’ve had a bad day, I don’t want to walk all the way over to Trinique’s, and here you are, standing out here in the middle of the night, arguing with me, which is preventing me from following my doctor’s orders to get some sleep. As a doctor yourself, you should know the value of a good, cooperative patient.”

“OK, OK, you’ve made your point. Your cabin. But you get the bed. I’ll take the. What else do you have to sleep on?”

“The floor.”

“Fine. Floor is good.”

“I get lizards. And spiders. Non-poisonous variety.” He let go of the grasp on her arm yet held on as they started to walk, like lovers strolling arm in arm.

“Then you get the floor.”

Any other time, any other situation, and this could have been a nice, romantic stroll. But it wasn’t, and she had to keep reminding herself of that every step of the way over to his cabin. Once inside, she was amazed by the sparseness … barely any furniture, practically no comforts. Three rooms. Bedroom, a combination living room and kitchen, and a bathroom. And, truly, there was only one place to sleep. A big double bed that sank in toward the middle and a threadbare rug on the floor in the living room/kitchen combo. No door separating the two rooms either. Thank heavens there was a door on the bathroom. “I’m holding you to your word, Coulson,” she said, kicking off her shoes once she’d entered the bedroom.

“Which word is that?” he said, grabbing a spare pillow from his bed.

“That you don’t snore.”

“Do you?” he asked.

“Guess you’re about to find out, aren’t you?”

“Look, Red … what you did for Tadeo tonight …”

Even from the next room she heard his deep sigh. It would catch up to him in the morning … Tadeo’s condition, the demise of
Stella.
It wasn’t going to be a very good day for Dr Adam Coulson, and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. “Just go to sleep. We both need our rest.” Her in a marginally comfy bed, him with the spiders and lizards. Well, the sleepover had been his idea after all.

Sleep didn’t take over for at least an hour … a long, restless hour in which her mind was filled with so many things. All she could do was toss and turn and hope all the activity would wear her out. But it didn’t, and she thought about her hospital, her father … most of all, she thought about the man sleeping in the very next room. Pictured him bare-chested. Hair mussed. Stubble on his face. Definitely an image that lost her some sleep.

C
OULSON’S
shower was maybe the best thing that had happened to her since she’d come to Regina. There was a shower in Trinique’s cottage, but all it would give was a cold trickle that was in scant supply … occasionally. While the pipes creaked and groaned. But this … this was wonderful. Designer showerhead, warm water that sprayed rather than drizzled. The feeling that she could take her time and enjoy this rather than jump in and right back out. Funny how she’d always taken her showers back home for granted. Like she had her good stethoscope or abundant medical supplies at her fingertips when she’d needed them. Despite the differences, though, she liked Regina. And not just because it was where her hospital would open its doors. She liked the people, liked the lifestyle … liked Coulson. He was a diamond in the rough. Everything good was underneath the unpolished exterior while the unpolished exterior itself wasn’t so bad.

“Save me some hot water,” he yelled through the door.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping. Didn’t I prescribe six hours of sleep for you?”

“You did, but how can you expect me to sleep with all the racket you’re making? And just so you know, it takes a good two hours before the water heater will give hot water again.”

The thought of him joining her to conserve water flitted through her mind, sending a wave of heat through her body. Where had that come from? They were colleagues, even friends, she told herself. He was acting as platonically as any man could act toward a woman. Oh, there were some nice gestures, but more from protectiveness than anything else. At least, that’s the only way she could describe it. Even last night, when she’d half expected him to take up one side of the bed, he’d preferred to sleep with the lizards. Which told her exactly what her status was with him.

“You’ll get your hot water later, after you’ve slept three more hours,” she yelled back, while she lathered her hair with shampoo bearing the same lime scent she’d smelled on him. Nice. So nice that another fantasy popped in. One where she smelled of his lime, not from shampooing but from close physical contact. Even nicer. “So, go back to bed, and take the bed!” Hard words to say because she could have used another couple of hours there. But duty called. And she really was anxious to go and check on Tadeo. Also to get away from some awfully dangerous fantasies.

Stepping out of the shower nearly twenty minutes later, she looked for a towel. Couldn’t find one. Not a clean one, not even a used one. Nothing on the shelf, nothing hanging on the hook on the door. Which meant her options were to stand there and drip-dry, yell for Coulson, or. No way she’d tiptoe out there dripping wet and naked, looking for a towel. So she opted to call for him or, at least whisper for him in the hope he was still awake. If he wasn’t.

Peeking out, she didn’t see him. Didn’t see a light on in the opening to the bedroom either. Maybe he’d gone to sleep. And … left his bedsheet over the back of the chair, mere inches out of her reach. Saw it, reached out for it, couldn’t get it. So, braving the emptiness, she opened the
door all the way, took one dart at the sheet and almost made it all the way back into the bathroom when.

“You could have asked,” he said, his voice emanating from somewhere within that room. From the dark.

She yanked the sheet up around her. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“You didn’t. I ran over to check on Tadeo. Can you imagine how surprised I was when I came back to my cabin, stepped through the door, and saw, well … I suppose the best way I could describe it is heaven.”

Heaven? Is that what he really thought? Rather than being embarrassed, she was flattered. “I needed a towel. You didn’t have one.”

“Actually, I do. I have … one. Didn’t think you’d want to use that, so I grabbed one from the clinic when I was over there.”

She could see his silhouette in the dark now, see that he was holding the towel straight out in front of him. So now her options were simple. March across the room, wrapped up in his sheet, and grab the towel from his hand. Or wait for him to bring it to her. “May I have it?”

“Trust me, I don’t think you need it.”

A raspy sigh accented the end of his words, and she felt her skin tingle all over. “I.I need to get dried so I can go and relieve Davion.”

“Davion’s fine. He said he’ll be good until morning. Which means we get three more hours here … together.” He crossed the room slowly, the wooden boards squeaking under his weight. Prolonged steps, deliberate. Almost like each and every one was thought out. “But since I’m going to have three more hours with that sheet you’re getting wet …”

“I’m going to take over for Davion. He may be fine, but he needs to rest so he can study for his exam. So just give
me the towel, Coulson. Let me get dried and dressed, and get this awkward moment over with.”

“I’m not awkward. In fact, I’m grateful.”

“For what?” She stepped forward and grabbed the towel he was finally extending to her.

“Well, I didn’t see much. Just a glimpse. And it
was
dark in here, damn it. What I wouldn’t have given for a little light on the subject. Oh, and by the way, was that a little tattoo on your—?”

“A birthmark,” she said. “And how could you see that in the dark, all the way across the room?”

“Actually, I couldn’t. It’s was just a particular fantasy of mine.” He chuckled. “But now I have another fantasy.”

“You’re a doctor, for heaven’s sake! Act like one!”

“And you’re a very sexy lady who’s spending the night in my bed and showering in my shower. That’s
definitely
not a doctor’s observation, Red.” He chuckled. “Or the other argument I could use here is that doctors are people, too. And at this moment I’m feeling particularly
people-ish.”

“People-ish?”

He nodded. “No doctor in me anywhere right now. So that leaves …”

“People-ish.” He always did that. Always twisted the situation into whatever he wanted, and she was so darned captivated or charmed or whatever it was called when someone fell under a spell that she’d just stood there and let him. For heaven’s sake! This was crazy.
She
was crazy. And the only way she was going to find her sanity was to get away from him. So that’s what she did. She retreated into the bathroom to finish drying and get dressed. And concentrate on other things. Like. “Do you have a comb or a hairbrush in here?” she asked, dreading the task of working the tangles from her hair. She loved her hair. But it was a chore.

“Check the cabinet over the sink. If it’s not there, I might have to come in and help you look for it.”

She chuckled. He was incorrigible. Absolutely incorrigible, and she liked that about him. It gave him character. Jagged in places, but nice.

Opening the cabinet, she stood back and took stock of the things that were, quintessentially, Coulson.
His
deodorant,
his
toothbrush,
his
hairbrush,
his
razor—an old-fashioned one with disposable blades, not the new, plastic, throw-away type. There were also several more bottles of lime-scented shampoo. Attached to one was a thank-you note for his medical services. Rather than money, he accepted shampoo. Quintessentially Coulson again. A hard lump stuck in her throat as it struck her what a good man he was. But it also struck her how entirely removed he was. He lived alone, subsisted on the barest necessities in an isolated little stretch of the world. By design. It was Adam Coulson and … nobody. And there was nothing to suggest that he wanted somebody else there with him in any significant way. Not even a second towel. It was like he reached out, but never quite touched.

Most of
her
life, her father had accused her of keeping to herself. It was true. She had, and still did so much of the time. But not like this. Not to the point of quarantine, and that’s how Coulson seemed to her. Quarantined.

Who knew? Maybe it was just easier for him that way. Maybe he’d made peace with his solitary self, and everything was good for him.

Still, he was such a caring man, and to care as deeply as he did meant to step outside yourself. Which he did. But then, when anybody got too near except, maybe Tadeo and Davion, he retreated. Made her wonder why. Made her wonder what, in his past, had made him so … afraid to care.

Was it his failed marriage? Had he given his heart and had it handed back to him brutally?

Grabbing the brush, she decided to exit the bathroom and all the little Coulson things surrounding her. The next ordeal was probably going to take a good ten minutes, and brushing the tangles outside, on the porch, seemed a good idea, considering how his impersonal toiletries seemed to set off her fantasies as much as anything else did. And that way Coulson could go back to sleep undisturbed while she headed over to the clinic to relieve Davion as soon as she was presentable.

Outside, she took a seat on a bench and inhaled the crisp island air. The nights here were so amazing. So absolutely pure. The darkness had a life of its own going on, with all sorts of little creatures darting in and out of the bushes. Yet in their night calls … the calls meant to find their mates. there was such hope. And tranquility. The hope was what she liked best, because it transcended into the hope that always stirred her. Hope that somewhere, sometime, she too would find her … true love. “Why are you out here, Coulson?” she asked, when the screen door behind her banged shut, shattering her solitude.

“To keep you company. To watch that mess on top of your head transform into a miracle.”

She started the methodical brushing, one small section at a time. “It’s not a big deal,” she said, then winced as one tangle particularly hurt. “Normally, I use a cream rinse then I brush it immediately after I shower so the tangles don’t …”

“Embed themselves?”

“They don’t embed, Coulson.” Another snarl caught, and she struggled to pull the brush through without actually breaking her hair.

“You could cut it short. Out here, that might be more practical.”

“I don’t want it—Ouch!” This time the brush was caught up. Twisted in tightly, just below her neck. “Look, I don’t need an audience, OK? Go back to bed. Get some sleep. Let me do this by myself.”

“With all the screaming going on out here, I won’t be able to go to sleep.”

“I’m not screaming.”

“But you will be if you keep it up.” He pulled her fingers off the hairbrush, took it away from her and gently untangled the snarl. He didn’t give the brush back, though, when that tangle was set free. Rather, he started brushing her hair.

“What are you doing?” she asked, wanting her words to sound like a growl and realizing that they sounded more like a contented purr.

“Saving you the aggravation. So just sit there, relax, don’t complain.”

“I don’t always complain.” And she certainly wasn’t going to complain about the tingles he was causing, not just on her scalp but everywhere else. “Only when I have to …” Definitely a purr now. This was wonderful. So intimate. So … luxurious. So surprising, because she was protective of her hair.
Overprotective
was probably a better way to describe it as she never let anybody touch it except for an occasional trim, and then, only by a select few stylists. And having Coulson brushing it this way for her, and her not stopping him from doing it, was unsettling in ways she wasn’t prepared to decipher. Normally she recoiled when people touched her hair … and people did like to touch it. But she hated that. Would always cringe then back away politely. Yet there was
nothing
about Coulson’s touch that made her want to recoil or back away. In fact, she loved
having him touch her hair. Loved it so much she finally relaxed a little with a contented sigh.

“Enjoying this, Red?”

“Maybe.” More than she would admit to him, or even to herself.

He chuckled. “Well, coming from you, I’ll take that to be a big, resounding
yes.”

It was. She just wasn’t going to tell him so.

“But you’re not easy with it, are you? Your shoulders are still pretty tense, your neck is stiff. You’ve scooted forward to the edge of the bench, like you’re getting ready to run. So, do I make you nervous, Red? Is it because I saw your—?”

“You saw my rear end, Coulson. At least, I’m assuming that’s all you saw. And, no, that doesn’t make me nervous.” Quite that opposite, actually. “But don’t count on ever seeing it again.”

“Than I shall thank you for the opportunity and cherish the memory. Let it live on in my fantasies for years. decades to come.”

In spite of herself, she laughed. And finally relaxed all the way.

“See, now, isn’t that better?” he asked, as the brush finally began to glide more easily through her hair. “Even your hair’s beginning to relax.”

“Like it could.”

“Well, I’ve got to admit, the first thing I noticed about you was your hair.”

“The first thing? Are you sure? Because I thought it was my … money.”

“OK, maybe the second … or third thing. And money always gets my attention, especially when someone’s handing it over to me. But your hair was definitely in my top-five
first observances because I figured that if you stayed here for long, you’d cut it off.”

“Never.” She couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

“Never say never, Red. I won’t always be there with a hairbrush.”

“I don’t need your hairbrush or you brushing my hair, and I won’t be cutting my hair,” she snapped, tensing right back up. This time she stood, yanked the brush from his hand and finished the brushing in a fury, then practically threw the brush back at him. “And it’s none of your business anyway,
Coulson,
what I do, or don’t do, with my hair!”

“Care to tell me what that’s about?” he asked, clearly taken aback by the fast shift in her mood.

“I’m in a hurry, that’s what this is about. I don’t have time to sit here and talk about … my hair.” With that, she turned and fairly flew off the porch, leaving Adam standing there, wondering what the hell had just happened. One moment they’d been having some nice banter going on between them, then.

He watched her disappear into the night. Watched, wondered, then. “Damn,” he muttered, sucking in a sharp breath. “Damn it to hell!” He knew that reaction. Had seen it in a few of his patients … chemotherapy patients, when their hair grew back. The loss of hair was the stigma, a sign of sickness or hopelessness, often dreaded more than the illness itself. When it grew back, in so many of his patients he’d seen a life reborn. Saw the glimmer of hope return, and even blossom. “Son of a.” He swallowed back a hard lump, felt a surge of nausea rising in his gut. She’d had cancer. At some time in her life, Erin had had cancer, and the way he felt about that was indescribable. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to push back the image, trying to reason with himself that he was totally wrong about
this. There could be other things … maybe just a plain old obsession. Or vanity. Maybe … maybe …