Page 2 of Stolen Moments

“Why did you become a home nurse?”

Melia shifted in her seat. Usually when they got to this question, she lied. But for some reason she didn’t want to lie to Luka. “I had a rough childhood. I knew what it was like to be lonely and helpless in the beginning of my life. I decided to dedicate my life to taking care of people who were lonely and helpless at the end of theirs.” Melia thought she detected pity in Luka’s expression, and this annoyed her. Pity, was not something she did well with. “Ha. Don’t go crying on me now, Mr. Rossiter.”

So much for honesty. Shit.

An uncomfortable silence followed her outburst, and Melia spent every second of it kicking herself for talking too much. She sent yet another silent prayer into the universe, promising to learn when to stop talking if only she got this job.

“This is a live-in arrangement. I own this bookstore, and I’m leaving it in the care of my general manager during the next few months while I tie up some loose ends. But I need help with some of the more technical aspects of this home care situation. Sometimes, I’ll need to step out for business or house-related tasks, and I would feel so much better with someone who was available twenty-four seven. There is a room with its own separate bathroom, a TV, unlimited books. We will offer meals, and of course, some time off provided you help me learn how to deal with some of the more basic things. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes, that’s perfectly fine.” She fought the urge to tell him that she had recently fallen on hard times and had moved in with her best friend from college. A live-in situation with her own bed and not a lumpy old couch to sleep on? “Yeah, I can definitely make arrangements to make that possible.”

“That about sums it up for my questions for you. Do you have any questions for me?” he gives a smile that’s equal parts warm and bleak.

Are you single? Will my room be next to yours?“Hmm. I don’t think so. I guess it would be helpful to know a little bit more about the patient.”

The pain that flashed across his face made her wish she had never asked him the question.

* * *

“Susan. Susan is…” Luka’s frown deepened. He cleared his throat. “My wife is funny. Strong. Independent. She’s the kind of woman that, well, she…”

It had been a long time since Luka had talked to someone new about Susan. Recently, he had ceased to talk about her at all, as if like those that believed a photograph could steal your soul, every mention of her name, of her very existence, somehow pushed her closer to death. He peered at Melia from over the reading glasses he used to keep the people in front of him slightly out of focus. Often they felt like a shield he could hide behind. There was a softness to her eyes. Eyes, he thought, that had expressed some disappointment when he’d said the word wife.

“My wife, Susan, laughed a lot. She is the kind of person who walks into a waiting room and begins cracking jokes until everyone is in tears. For a moment, people can just forget they’re sick, because she’s entertaining them. Everyone always felt at ease around her, uh”—he cleared his throat— “and she’s kind, and easy to get along with. Everyone wants to be her friend.”

Damn it.

He blinked hard and titled his head back, looking up at the light.

* * *

They never fully trained anyone for these situations. What words could possibly offer this man any solace? Instinctively, she leaned forward and squeezed his hand and for a moment, he accepted the gesture, and in the next, his hand recoiled like someone who had touched an open flame.

Melia looked at her lap, her face burning in shame. That was probably not the right thing to do, but she couldn’t watch him suffer on his own. Something about him seemed so helpless, as if he was lost in grief. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him any of the mundane, run of the mill shit that everyone spouted when faced with the imminent death of somebody else’s loved one.

Time stretched on as they sat opposite one another, the desk an eternity between them, and every minute that ticked by Melia felt like she was drifting further and further away.

At least it wasn’t your mouth this time.Saying the wrong thing was a specialty of hers and had cost her dates, jobs— and now this. She couldn’t stand it any longer. Abruptly she stood up and held out her hand, hoping it didn’t shake. She quickly thanked Luka for his time and ran for the exit. and thanking Luka for his time.

She fought back tears as she half-ran, half-walked to her car. She dropped her keys once before fumbling them into the lock and sliding into the worn driver’s seat. Clutching at the steering wheel, she pressed her forehead against the cool leather and allowed the tears to come. She told herself she was crying over thinking the interview, the stress of watching a husband grieve for his dying wife — and tried to ignore the overwhelming feeling of loss she’d felt the instant he pulled away his hand.

Chapter Two

Luka waited in the car in front of Susan’s sister’s house and gathered his thoughts. He watched Susan walk slowly down the front steps, taking them one at a time, her too-frail hands clutching the handrail tightly as she slowly navigated the stairs Susan’s brother-in-law had installed for her. As she reached the last stair she looked up and beamed triumphantly. Luka waved at her and mustered a smile. From the bottom of the stairs to the door of the car, she leaned on her sister and shuffled her way to the car.

Susan’s cancer had caused her cells to begin to retain water, and her face had swollen the chemo had claimed her eyebrows and her long blonde hair. It had claimed her pale skin touched with rosiness, and had turned it slightly gray. It had dulled the shine of her big blue eyes. But it hadn’t taken the cheer out of her voice.

“How were the interviews? Did you findthe one?”

Luka kissed her on the forehead and laughed. “How can you be so excited about this?”

“Well, when you get cancer and need help bathing or wiping your own ass sometimes, you can tell me what you won’t do to at least keep the idea of romance somewhat alive.” Susan coughed and her whole body shudders. “I don’t want you doing all of that stuff for me,” she said when she had caught her breath again. “We’ve already talked about this. So were they any good? Did you see any that you liked?”

Luka watched the palm tree-lined street zip by before pulling the car into their driveway. He looked at her, thinking. “I can show you the files. I think this batch was better than last week’s.”

It took a couple minutes to get Susan inside but eventually Luka helped Susan to her favorite rocking chair and covered her with a blanket. He laid three files across her lap.

“Oh, this one looks kind of promising,” said Susan as she looked through the file. Luka looked over her shoulder.

---