Her Miracle Man Page 2

  He stepped forward with a hand extended and a gentle smile that curved his mouth and crinkled the edges of his eyes. “Jennalyn.”

  She flattened her palm over her chest where heat was spreading deeper. She’d seen him often, met him twice. The first meeting, she’d found him on the floor of the hospital library. In his expensive suit, in front of some amazing stained glass windows, he’d sat on the thick rug that covered a marble floor with his legs crisscrossed. He and Sabrina had broken away from their seemingly serious conversation.

  He’d looked up at Jennalyn with the same gentle smile. It had stolen her breath then too.

  In the water-themed banquet space, with her heart filling her throat, Jennalyn moved her hand into Ryland’s. An electric jolt shot up her arm and had her jerking free.

  Rubbing the palm of her still-tingling hand with her thumb, she searched for her voice. When she managed to push words up her lump-filled throat, she was proud to hear that she sounded somewhat level.

  “Ryland.”

  “It’s… You look… You look good.” His guarded greeting suggested that he too remembered their last meeting and he found this reunion equally awkward.

  The second and last time she’d met him… He’d sat across Sabrina’s bed holding one fragile hand while Jennalyn held the other. Then, after Sabrina had slipped off to join the angels, when Jennalyn wanted to curl herself around her sister, desperate to keep Sabrina’s body from turning cold, he’d rounded the bed and offered her comfort until long after the nursing staff had taken Sabrina away. Jennalyn could still hear her own grief echoing in that room.

  Tears scalded Jennalyn’s eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. Her hands shook. The stress of the day, being back at the zoo, seeing Ryland and having the memories resurface all became too much. The strength she’d spent the last eleven months building up crumbled. Pinching her lips together, she held in a sob and backed away several steps. She couldn’t stay and not break.

  She fled.

  She had been intrigued by the project Evan had mentioned. A series of events, even small ones, for a single client could more than put her where she needed to be to upgrade the family business. But working for Riley Hospital would require her to go to the hospital. She wasn’t that strong.

  Ducking her head, searching for privacy, she fought back the threatening tears and wound her way through the sparkling and laughing crowd. The exit was close, but not close enough.

  Seeing Ryland again scraped away the scab that had thinned in the dome. Unshielded, the grief she’d thought she’d put behind her rose. There was no way she could take on a job for him. Anything involving the hospital would mean she would likely see some of the patients and families she’d gotten to know during their time there.

  She’d grown to love those families, and they stayed in contact via email. She knew what had happened to the children Sabrina had grown to call friends. Some had lost the fight, some still fought, others were now on the road to a healthy life. She missed them all, but never agreed to meet-ups.

  Swallowing tears, she pushed through the exit and stepped into the empty hall. Rubbing her chest and counting her breaths, she headed for the thankfully empty dome.

  No.

  She couldn’t look at Ryland Davids.

  She couldn’t work for the hospital.

  She couldn’t relive the pain and loss.

  Chapter Two

  A triple threat—grief and pain and loneliness—had snapped into Jennalyn’s large brown eyes. Her spunky hair with fun streaks, the flirty dress that curved her body and artfully applied makeup failed to serve as strong enough armor. The instant shadows darkening her eyes spread across her cheeks, removing the vibrant pink glow until all that remained of her beautiful complexion and spirit was a pale shell.

  Ryland recognized the emotions and knew they were something she wanted to deal with in private. He had no right to follow her, other than the promise he’d made too long ago. Neither could he ignore her agony.

  It had been seeing him that had taken her back to the day she’d lost her sister. That was the bitch about grief. It had a brutal way of sneaking up and biting the bereaved in the heart.

  People who faced what Jennalyn had generally found reasons to hang around the hospital. Or they left and never returned.

  The ones who returned and volunteered said it helped them remember the good parts of the loved one they lost. Or they simply wanted to make sure other people facing similar stresses had everything they could need to face each day a little more easily.

  The ones who never returned found it too painful to face the grief and loss. Seeing other people go through what they had gone through reminded them too vividly of their agony.

  Ryland understood the motivations of both. And though he understood why Jennalyn had been one of the latter, a part of his heart broke each time he thought of her and Sabrina. He had thought of them often over the last several months.

  Since hanging up his white coat, Ryland hadn’t sat with a patient or family member in their last moments. That he’d been in Sabrina’s room at the end hadn’t been a coincidence. The magnetism of her optimism had pulled him in when he’d have been safer in his office. She hadn’t been a patient long, but watching the way she fought against the degeneration of her brain cells, watching the way she fought to retain her memories and faculties while those cells died, had inspired him.

  She’d become a favorite distraction when he needed a break. She’d made him laugh, and though he never told her, she had reminded him of his daughter.

  Elise.

  Even in her last moments, Sabrina had shone with a spirit of giving so strong he’d rarely seen its equal. She and Jennalyn had smiled at one another as she breathed her last breath. “Don’t mourn too long,” had been the last words to cross her smiling lips. The words, the smile, filled with such strength, did nothing to ease Jennalyn’s heartbreak. Or his.

  Neither had his holding Jennalyn after. No. Holding Jennalyn had only accomplished one thing. It had allowed her into a part of his soul where he should never allow a patient. It had reminded him of all the reasons most hospital administrators maintained a professional distance. Getting too close made making the tough decisions impossible.

  He hadn’t stopped to visit with a patient for more than a couple minutes since. Professional distance didn’t stand up against the stark reality of seeing Jennalyn.

  Just as she had in the hospital, she tugged at his heart with nothing more than a wounded look. She aroused his need to provide comfort and he wanted to think it was that need that propelled his steps through the room to follow her. Comfort, if he were able to offer it this time, would come a little later. He had a different agenda, thanks to a promise he’d been enticed into making to Sabrina.

  Stopping at the end of the short tunnel that led into the dolphin dome, he sent a silent plea for Jennalyn to understand what he’d done to whatever god would listen.

  Head held high, shoulders not shaking, she stood near the middle of the dome that extended into the dolphin tank. Her arms were wrapped around herself with the only visible movement being the subtle slide of her fingertips as they slid fractionally back and forth over her sides. More obvious was the grief that filled the air as effectively as the water filled the tank beyond the dome. One crack of the protective shell and there would be a flood.

  Ryland felt it as clearly as the dolphins on the other side of the glass seemed to. Four sentries looking on with an eerie sadness, they hovered just beyond the glass. It was as if they shared a connection with her and understood her need for companionship from a safe distance.

  Ryland rubbed a hand over his heart. He should turn away, make his delivery later, but it had to be done. In the inside pocket of his jacket sat the reason he’d followed Jennalyn. The promise he’d made to Sabrina had already waited too long.

  Shoring up his defenses for another emotional blow, he stepped forward. Speaking softly, so he didn’t scare her, he placed the tips of tw
o fingers on her shoulder. “Jennalyn.”

  She didn’t jump or turn to face him or stiffen beneath his touch. There was a single sign that she heard him. That was a minor halt in her breathing. The halt lasted one beat, barely measurable, before the gentle rise and fall of her breaths resumed. “Go back to the party, Mr. Davids.”

  “I’m not much in the party mood.”

  Even their whispers bounced off the acoustically charged walls. His whisper, unlike hers, was more fact-filled than grief-stricken. He was no stranger to her pain, though. Hoping to offer encouragement, maybe a little strength, he eased a third finger onto her shoulder and took another step closer. With each inch closer he fought the urge to move in and wrap her in his arms.

  He could kiss her, distract her from her pain. The vision snapped as clearly into his head as it had time and time again in dreams. The remembered feel of her in his arms beckoned a dark corner of his heart into the light. It persuaded him to hold her until her pain passed. Perhaps the kiss would get the desire for her out of his system. The risk wasn’t safe for either of them so he ignored the emotional persuasion.

  “You’re missing out on some great networking opportunities for your hospital.”

  “There are more important things.”

  “Like following me?”

  “Yes.” He stepped around her, wanting, needing, to face her directly. “I’m sorry seeing me brought back your pain.”

  When she finally looked up it was with a gaze clear of emotion. No hurt. No anger. No nothing. “It never leaves.”

  I know. He wanted to say it. To let her know he truly understood her grief, but his experiences weren’t important at the moment. Only she mattered. Her and her loss.

  “When I heard you would be here,” he continued, “I worried… I almost didn’t come.”

  “Why?” She challenged him in the same monotone that gave nothing away. “Because you sat with me after Sabrina died?”

  Deep inside, she couldn’t feel as matter of fact as she pretended. Not with the way she’d left the event. He knew how grief worked. How it spent years upon years messing with its victims.

  “I had to see you.”

  “That’s not at all contradictory.”

  He smiled at her sarcasm. She was shielding herself. He only hoped those shields were strong enough. “Call her. Don’t call her. See her. Don’t see her. It’s a circulatory path I’ve traveled in my mind for the last several months.”

  She stared at him.

  He stared at her while his mind wandered for a moment back in time.

  But she’ll be alone. I need to make sure she finds a way to be happy again. Will you help me? Sabrina’s request had caught him by surprise, but he hadn’t been able to deny the sweet girl with energy-sparked eyes.

  A single statement had been all he needed to fall under Sabrina’s spell. Now, here he stood before her sister, terrified that their plan wouldn’t work quite how they’d hoped.

  “I didn’t want my appearance to cause you pain.” Taking the disc from his pocket before he could turn back, Ryland offered it to Jennalyn. “But I had to see you. I had to give you this.”

  Her eyes flashed to the disc before returning to his. When she spoke it was with the same guarded monotone she’d used since he joined her in the dome. “What is that?”

  “It’s a message from Sabrina.”

  Jennalyn’s head notched higher, as if she stretched through her spine. “What?”

  “She asked me to help you stop grieving.” Lifting Jennalyn’s hand, he placed the disc in her palm. He didn’t release her hand, though, after her fingers curled around the disc. “To do that, she left a few DVDs with me.”

  A blush touched Jennalyn’s cheeks. It had nothing to do with her makeup and everything to do with the anger that popped in her eyes. “You’ve had discs of my sister this whole time?”

  The tone of her question made him feel like a young boy being called out by his mom after breaking a major rule. She even had him wanting to duck his head and mumble his answer. He resisted. “Yes.”

  “And you’re just now saying something?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re only giving me one?”

  “I considered sending them before.”

  “But?”

  “But, I chose to honor Sabrina’s last request.”

  Jennalyn’s eyelids froze open. Her head jerked a little to the right as if he’d slapped her. He’d known that last bit would hurt, but it had been unavoidable. He wasn’t going to lie to her.

  “What’s on it?”

  He shook his head.

  “Do you know?”

  He nodded once. He’d memorized Sabrina’s messages as he’d helped her record them.

  “But you won’t tell me?”

  He shook his head again. The messages would batter the barriers of self-protection Jennalyn had erected. “You’ll want privacy when you watch this.”

  Privacy and likely a day or two for emotional recovery.

  Jennalyn set her glass of wine on the square coffee table that had been in her parents’ home, now her home, longer than she could remember. Nicks, stains and water marks scarred the surface as firmly as memories of her family scarred Jennalyn’s heart. They would never be erased and she would never want them to be.

  Rolling her neck, she tied the belt of her “I Believe in Santa” robe Sabrina had given her years earlier. Crossing her feet beneath her, she sat anxiously on the center cushion of the sofa and stared at the television. The DVD player was ready. The remote waited on the cushion beside her.

  A single click of a button would have the DVD player closing. Then she’d hear whatever Sabrina had to say. She’d hear the message Ryland had held on to.

  After taking a long swallow of the wine and returning the glass to the table with an increasingly shaky hand, Jennalyn held a deep breath and pushed play. The DVD drawer closed. Sabrina’s face filled the big screen.

  “Is it on? Are we ready?”

  “Yes.”

  No. Jennalyn argued with Ryland’s unseen response to Sabrina’s slurred question. The brain damage she’d suffered in the car accident that killed their parents had turned her sunny tones into increasing slurs. With more brain cells dying each day, her too-short past fuzzed. Then she began losing her memories.

  Sabrina had always maintained a brightness though, and it was evident as she settled more comfortably into the chair in the hospital library. She’d quickly claimed the spot as her favorite, especially after the staff had decorated the Christmas tree with books and colored lights.

  “Hey, JJ.” Sabrina smiled into the camera. It was a little timid, as if Sabrina was unsure of herself. The idea was an odd one, because uncertain was one thing Sabrina had never been. “You’re probably mad at me for asking Mr. Davids to hold these messages.”

  “A little.” Jennalyn didn’t think twice about talking to her sister in the TV while tears burned her eyes.

  “I thought… I thought you’d need some time.”

  “Eleven months, Sab?” Eleven months was more than some time. And what made Sabrina or Ryland think they had the right to determine how long she had to wait before seeing the DVDs?

  “You told me not to be sad or angry that I was going to die. And I’m trying not to be.” Sabrina sniffed away a tear. “When I can remember, I miss you and my friends, but I also remember what you taught me.”

  “What’s that?” Jennalyn asked.

  “You’ve said a lot lately that bad stuff happens. That we can’t live in fear of it. You told me there was joy everywhere. Even in the hospital.”

  Tears coursed down Jennalyn’s face despite her smile. She remembered telling Sabrina that. She’d hoped to offer comfort with the advice—for both of them—because the thought that she’d never see Sabrina’s smile again, or hear her precious and wounded voice… Watching the video of her baby sister settling in for a lecture was oddly funny.

  “Try not to be mad at Mr. Davids if he’s
kept his promise. He’s sweet and doesn’t want to upset you, but I’ve thought a lot about this.”

  “About what, Sab?”

  “If you’ve kept the family business, I want you to take the job he’s offering.”

  “He hasn’t offered me a job.” The point wouldn’t matter to the video before her, but she couldn’t stop herself from talking to her sister any more than she could stop herself from hoping to hear a little laughter. Of course, there was nothing funny about Sabrina’s being gone.

  “I was reading one day and heard… Okay, I was eavesdropping.”

  “I told you to stop that.”

  “You told me to stop that.”

  Sabrina’s acknowledgement came at the same moment as Jennalyn’s chastisement. Jennalyn laughed as her baby sister went on.

  “But he has this idea. It’s perfect. He’s perfect. You’re the perfect one to help him.”

  “That’s a lot of perfection, Sab.”

  “That’s a lot of perfection, you’ll say, and it is. You’re also perfect for him, but you won’t let yourself see that for a while. You may not even admit how hot he is.”

  No. I know he’s hot.

  “Sabrina.” The camera shook a little as Ryland chastised her sister.

  Sabrina grinned and kept going. “He wants to plan a month of miracles for some patients. During Christmas because it’s a hard time to be in the hospital.”

  “I can tell her the plans later, Sabrina,” Ryland offered from off screen. His voice sounded thicker than normal, as if the idea of what he was doing with Sabrina was getting to him.

  It certainly got to Jennalyn, but in the way that had her tears drying and her anger withering. Whatever her sister and Ryland had cooked up, she wasn’t going to miss the chance for more DVDs of Sabrina. She would just have to find a way to avoid the hospital as much as possible.

  Sabrina shook her head. “He wants to do stuff like days where gifts are delivered to every kid in the hospital or outings to someplace special or maybe something for the families.” She swept a hand over the book in her lap.