Page 41 of Conail

*****

He found the doctor at the nurse's station and jerked his head, indicating he wanted to talk to her.

Charlene led the way into a small, cluttered office and closed the door. "I do a few hours here twice a week," she explained.

He could not care less. "How's she really?" His tone was abrupt, but he did not care about that either.

Charlene was used to people being rude and the imposing looking man standing in front of her was just another one. Only this man's family had been donating to the hospital for years and his mother sat on the board of the pediatric ward. He was not just nobody.

She was going to have to tread carefully.

"Her vital signs have improved remarkably."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning she should be released in a day or two. We're keeping her here to make sure she's well enough to go home."

He wandered over to the tiny window. It had snowed heavily the night before, leaving the evidence dripping from the trees with their skeletal branches. "You're implying that it's premature for me to suggest the abortion to her." His voice was mild.

"She's already four months pregnant and from this point on it could be smooth sailing."

He turned to look at her with those enigmatic eyes. The man was nothing like his mother, she thought, forcing herself to hold his gaze.

"You cannot guarantee that, can you?"

"No," she shook her head reluctantly. "But I can guarantee that we have every intention of taking the best care of her."

"You'd better." There was a hint of steel in his voice that caused her to shiver. Lifting his left hand, he glanced at the plain looking timepiece. "I'm heading home, call me if there are any changes."

"Of course." She watched him leave with a sense of relief. This job was paying her an exorbitant amount of money and a promise to help with her research department, but she was wondering if it was worth more stress than it was worth.

He checked in on her before he left. He convinced himself after leaving the doctor that he would go straight home, but halfway down the hall, he found himself retracing his steps. She was sleeping. Walking further into the room, he saw that her eyes were closed, and her breathing was even.

He nodded to the nurse who was busily and quietly adjusting the tubes.

"How's she?" he asked in a stage whisper. And even though the woman knew he had just been inside the room, she answered with a nod.

"Vitals are still good. She should sleep for the next couple of hours." She adjusted the sheets before slipping from the room.

He stood there staring at her and felt the hunger churning inside him. A smile touched her lips as he stared at her open mouth. She snored. He had noticed it when he spent the night with her in bed. And she tended to burrow and shift in her sleep. Crossing to the bed, he continued to stare at her and before he knew what he was about, had lifted a hand to trail a finger over her cheek. It was still as soft as he recalled. Like satin. No, more like silk. Her complexion was lovely and flawless. When he found his finger inching towards her lips, he snatched it back and took several steps away from the bed.

With an impatient sigh, he turned and left. This was getting ridiculous now.

*****

"Honey are you okay?"

Colin had been so steeped in troubled thoughts, he had not heard the footsteps. Swearing silently, he tried to bury the cigarette beneath his boots before his mother could see it. But the evidence was not easily masked. Clouds of faint smoke were drifting towards the sky.

"I thought you'd quit," she remarked mildly as she handed him a cup of steaming hot chocolate. He had come out to the little pond, now dotted with ice, to be alone. He had performed the morning tasks and was getting ready to see to the fences and had sent the men off to help with the clearing of the snow. The winter was dragging on with no end in sight and they still had February and March and possibly April to contend with.

"Thanks." He accepted the cup and wrapped his chilly fingers around the ceramic. "I had. This was just to relieve stress."

Her concern was quick and immediate.

"That's what I came out here to tell you. Your sister is recovering."

He realized she had misinterpreted his comment and decided to let her. "Is she?" He sipped hot chocolate laced with cinnamon, milk and whipped cream, specially made by her. It was the most delicious he had ever tasted. "When will she be coming home?"

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