“What have I done to you?” He leaned over, breathed in her scent. Although mingled with the smell of cleansing antiseptic, the unique fragrance that was Liz filled him.
No matter how long he lived he’d never grow so old that he wouldn’t recognize her scent. He imagined he’d close his eyes and dream of breathing her in, of touching her, kissing her, holding her, all the days of his life.
Selfish fool that he was, he wanted to be there for Liz. He always wanted to be there for her, a permanent part of her life.
So far his MS hadn’t improved with the injections, but even that evening Dr Winters had said it was too early to tell.
What if Dr Winters was right? What if the exacerbation went away and he never had another flare-up of his MS? Or only a few throughout his lifetime without any long-term ill-effects?
He loved Liz. Loved her more than any other man possibly could.
Even if he had an acute flare-up, wouldn’t them being together be better than her being with someone who could never love her as deeply as he did?
Or was that wishful thinking on his part?
Because Liz was easy to love and no doubt any number of men could fall madly in love with her. What wasn’t to love about a kind, gentle-spirited beauty who gave so much of herself to those around her?
But what they had was strong, special. The kind of bond that spanned eternity and bound their souls together.
Which was why he’d done such a dismal job of setting Liz free. They belonged together.
If he did have acute flare-ups, he’d spend his good days making up to her for all the bad ones.
Liz. He laced his fingers with hers and lifted her hand to his mouth. He placed a gentle kiss on each finger.
“You deserve better, Liz. So much better than I am at my best, but if you’ll have me I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you and making up for these past few weeks.”
CHAPTER NINE
“HELLO, May,” Adam said to the woman he’d operated on the previous day. He’d spent the night at the hospital, waiting for news on Liz, hoping she’d send for him. She hadn’t. To pass the long hours, he’d checked on May a couple of times. He’d ordered her another unit of packed RBCs, but otherwise she’d had a good night.
Adam couldn’t say the same about his own night.
After sneaking into Liz’s room a second time, just to make sure she was still OK, he’d lain down
in an empty patient room for a couple of hours.
“Dr Cline.” Although she was weak, May’s lips turned up with pleasure when she spotted him. Her husband stood, rushed over to Adam.
“Dr Cline.” He didn’t say more, just shook Adam’s hand over and over with great gusto, his eyes brimming with emotion.
Adam nodded in understanding, waited until May’s husband stepped back, looking a little embarrassed.
“It’s good to see you smiling,” Adam told his patient, pleased with her skin color and the verve in her eyes. Although still pale and a long way from being recovered, May was going to be OK.
“Just knowing that rock is out of me makes me want to smile.”
“More like the root system of a tree than a rock.” May’s surgery was definitely the most complicated he’d ever undertaken. No doubt he’d be called before the board about his “collapse”, but given the same set of circumstances he’d opt to do the surgery again. “A mighty oak’s roots.”
“Whatever.” She shuddered. “I’m glad it’s gone.”
“We all are.” Her husband sat back down next to her, placed his hand over his wife’s.
“The nurse told me that you refused to take any pain medicine this morning.”
“Why would I? My pain now is nothing compared to before you operated.”
On cue the nurse walked into the room, handed Adam a printout of the most recent results on May’s labs. “Thought you might want to see these, Dr Cline. I know you were asking about them earlier. They just got entered into the computer a few moments ago, so I printed out a copy.”