The Surgeon's New-Year Wedding Wish. Laura IdingЧитать онлайн книгу.
of Leila helped him to forget about Anton, at least temporarily. Those few moments when their fingers had tangled over the chart had sent his pulse skyrocketing into triple digits. The physical reaction, akin to being poked with a laser-tipped bovie, had startled him. He hadn’t felt anything remotely like it in the many months since Celeste’s death.
Leila was a good surgeon, he’d figured that out shortly after working with her the very first time. And she was the one who’d noticed Anton’s compartment syndrome in his legs. He didn’t blame her for not being able to save the young man. He’d known right from the first that Anton’s chances of surviving his severe injury had been slim.
Leila’s ability to be compassionate with her patients and their families, while maintaining her professionalism, was a trait he admired.
Yet admiring the woman was one thing, being interested in her on a personal level was completely out of the question. Certainly she was beautiful, her ethnicity portraying a hint of the Orient, with her slightly almondshaped eyes and straight black hair. But he’d been surrounded by beautiful women before and hadn’t once felt even a flicker of interest.
Testosterone, he thought as exhaustion weighted his eyelids. He was a man who’d been celibate for too long and she was a beautiful woman. His response to her had been nothing more than chemistry, plain and simple.
Nothing more.
A gentle, yet insistent patting on his chest caused Quinn to rouse from sleep. He swallowed a groan and groggily opened his eyes, realizing he was not alone.
His six-year old son, Danny, was patting his chest, silently asking him to wake up. He swiped the grit from his eyes and smiled at him. “Good morning, Danny,” he said, hoping but not expecting a response.
Danny grinned, showing a small gap between his two front baby teeth. His son signed the word breakfast and Quinn nodded.
“Yes, I’m hungry for breakfast, too.” He automatically signed the words, even though he knew perfectly well there was nothing wrong with Danny’s ability to hear. Still, if he didn’t practice his signing, he tended to get rusty. “Where’s Auntie D.?”
In the kitchen, making oatmeal, Danny signed in response. She wants to know if you want some, too.
“Sure.” He might have preferred eggs and bacon, but Celeste’s aunt, Delores Newkirk, had been on a major health food regimen lately, so he suspected fried eggs and bacon were not an option. He was so grateful that she’d stepped up to help him with Danny, agreeing not only to taking care of his son during whatever chaotic hours he had to work but also relocating with them from Boston to the tiny town of Cedar Bluff, that he’d decided long ago not to complain. He couldn’t imagine raising his son without the help of the plump, middle-aged godsend, the one member of his wife’s family who didn’t blame him for Celeste’s death, although he certainly understood their feelings. “Just give me a few minutes to shower and I’ll be ready.”
Danny grinned again. Okay, but you’d better hurry ’cause oatmeal tastes bad when it’s cold.
“Right.” He nodded in agreement, swinging his legs out of bed and wishing there was an easy way to mainline caffeine. He needed to blow the cobwebs from his brain. The scent of coffee teased him mercilessly as he made his way to the shower.
Fifteen minutes later, he padded into the kitchen, where Delores was seated at the kitchen table across from Danny. “Good morning, Quinn. Did you have a rough night?”
“Not too bad,” he said with a shrug, making a beeline for the coffeemaker. “Thanks for making breakfast.”
“You came home pretty late,” she commented. Her tone was casual, but the glint in her eye betrayed her interest. “Did you go out after your shift?”
Quinn hid a sigh. Lately, Delores was becoming obsessed with his social life or lack thereof. He was growing weary of her not-so-subtle hints. “No, the night shift physician worked Christmas Eve night, so I split the shift with the day shift doctor to cover the night shift for Christmas night. I stayed until three in the morning and Jadon came in at three.”
“Oh.” She wrinkled her nose in disappointment. Then her expression brightened. “But you’re off the rest of the day, right?”
“Yes, and so are you.” He took a seat next to her at the table and helped himself to the large bowl of oatmeal she’d set out for him. “You’re going down to Chicago for a holiday visit with your sister today, and don’t pretend you’ve forgotten.”
“But I don’t have to go if you need me to stay here,” she said, rising to her feet to refill her coffee mug. “Cynthia would surely understand if Danny needs me to stay.”
“Hardly,” he muttered, unable to imagine his wife’s mother caring one way or the other about the grandson she hadn’t seen in well over a year. Her anger toward Quinn at causing her daughter’s death had unfortunately carried over to his and Celeste’s son. He felt bad for Danny, not himself. “In fact, if you don’t go, she’ll blame me for that, too.”
Delores sighed and nodded. “I guess you’re right. But what about next weekend? Surely you can make some plans to go out next weekend?”
“I’ll think about it,” Quinn said evasively. Next weekend was New Year so it was unlikely he’d make special plans for then, either. He turned toward his son, who was listening intently to their conversation. “So, Danny, what would you like to do today? Are you ready for another video game challenge?”
You didn’t forget about sledding, did you? Danny signed, his eyes widening in alarm.
“Sledding?” Quinn repeated in confusion. He glanced questioningly at Delores.
“The sledding party is later this afternoon,” Delores clarified, doing as Quinn did, signing and talking. She sent Quinn an apologetic glance. “Ah, do you have a sled for him to use?”
“No, but we can run to the store later,” Quinn said. He smiled at his son. “How about we play video games for a while first, then we’ll go buy a sled?”
Danny nodded vigorously. Okay. But you know I always beat you when we play.
Quinn laughed. “Not this time. I’ve been practicing when you’ve been asleep.”
Danny flashed him a pitying look that clearly indicated he didn’t believe him as he slid down from his seat and carried his empty oatmeal bowl over to the sink. Hurry up, he signed before darting into the living room.
“Do you think it’s a good idea to encourage those video games?” Delores asked once Danny had left. “After all, those games aren’t going to encourage him to talk.”
“He’ll talk when he’s ready,” he said, repeating what Dr. Nancy Adams had told him. Nancy was a semiretired speech pathologist who’d graciously agreed to take Danny’s case when Quinn had explained the circumstances around his son’s traumatic muteness. He’d relocated to Cedar Bluff just for the chance to have Danny work with her. Of course, the small-town feel of Cedar Bluff was pretty nice, too. At least so far the kids in Danny’s first-grade class hadn’t begun to ridicule him.
“I hope you’re right,” Delores said, before getting up from the table. “I guess I’ll get ready to go visit my sister, unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“Go on, you deserve some time away from here,” he urged.
Delores left him to finish his oatmeal in peace. As he enjoyed the maple and brown sugar flavor he thought about Danny. He trusted Nancy’s knowledge and skill, yet at the same time he’d begun to despair that his son would ever speak again. The kids his age welcomed him into their group now, but what would happen in a few years? Kids could be incredibly cruel, and generally those who were “different” took the brunt of the teasing.
He couldn’t bear the thought of Danny becoming ostracized by the other kids because of his self-imposed silence.