When Love Goes Bad Page 5

  I’ve begun dating again and my heart is on the mend. I know the right man is out there for me, and someday I’ll find him. When I do, he will have been worth the wait and the heartache. THE END

  JUST LIKE JANE

  He wanted me to fill someone else’s shoes!

  I remember feeling as though I was walking on air after Brady proposed marriage to me. Who wouldn’t think she was walking on air if a man like Brady—handsome, widowed, rich, and the most popular doctor in town—said he wanted to marry her? I just couldn’t believe he had actually picked me out of all the women he could have chosen in our town. I thought I was the luckiest woman on earth.

  I got envious glares and stares from the women I worked with at the hospital. Only Julia, my supervisor and friend, was really happy for me. Admittedly though, I did love the feeling of power I had when I was wearing the huge engagement ring Brady had given to me. After all, I had been envious of other women for a long time. Maybe it was just time for the tables to turn.

  I worked as a floating nurse in the hospital, going wherever Julia assigned me. That’s how I had my first brief conversation with Brady. I knew all about him, though. The hospital was a bedrock of gossip. Brady was too handsome and charming to escape notice when he came on staff. It wasn’t long before I heard that he was widowed, sad, and a little lost. I knew that he had a home on the beach in another town—the home he had shared with his wife. Rumor had it that he moved to our town to escape his painful memories of her.

  “He would never notice someone like me,” I told Julia one day when we were talking about Brady. “I have to resign myself to the fact that my first marriage, if that’s what you call it, was probably the highlight of my life. Someone like Dr. Brady Parker is way out of my league.”

  It irritated me a little that Julia was so quick to agree with me. “I know what you mean, Rachel,” she sighed. “I’m too old and chunky to ever catch his eye—or anyone else’s for that matter. Well, at least Luke, my dear old man, still loves me.”

  I laughed and agreed with her. “You know you’re lucky to have Luke and your kids,” I said. “You have the best marriage of anyone I know.”

  “Well, a girl can still dream and fantasize,” Julia said. “Come to think of it, I don’t think Dr. Brady Parker would find me too appealing in my old green chenille robe—but Luke does.”

  “I work all day,” I said to her, “then I go to the park and run until I’m tired enough to sleep. What a life.”

  “I don’t need any help getting tired,” Julia yawned. “I’m always tired. But there’s no good reason for you not to date, Rachel. You just need to fix yourself up a little and send out the right signals—you’re available.”

  I was working in the emergency room the night my eyes connected with Brady’s for the first time. We had a patient come in with a broken leg from skiing, and he requested that we call Brady who was an orthopedic surgeon. When Brady came into the patient’s room, he smelled of fresh air and elegant, light cologne.

  I stayed in the background, assisting the doctor silently. When he sent the patient to X-ray, he turned to me and said, “I’ve been watching you. You look very much like my wife, Jane.”

  I blushed, not knowing what to make of his remark. I wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad that I reminded him of his fabled dead wife. I didn’t know what to make of his comment, so I quietly thanked him and looked away. His intense blue eyes studied me in the uncomfortable silence that followed. I was starting to blush and felt very uneasy, but Brady continued to stare at me.

  “You are quite beautiful,” he said in a delicious murmur.

  I laughed nervously and blushed deeper. “I’ve been working for hours. I don’t feel beautiful at all.”

  His eyes stayed fixed on mine and I started backing away from him, not wanting to leave his side, but not knowing what to say or do next. In a voice that was almost trance-like, Brady said, “My wife, Jane, is dead.” With those words he reached out and touched a lock of my hair that had fallen loose onto my cheek.

  “I heard that she had passed away,” I practically whispered. I was frozen in place now. His touch thrilled me, but I was sure my cheeks were scalding to his touch because of my insistent blushing.

  What he said next really surprised me. “Would you mind taking your hair down?”

  I think he could have asked me to dance a jig for him at that moment and I would have done it. I was caught up in the magic he seemed to exude with his physical presence and his lovely voice.

  I did as he asked and loosened my hair. I stood there, waiting and motionless, and then he sighed.

  “Ah, yes,” he said in a low voice, “I understand. Just a little more red and a little shorter and you could be her.”

  I stood at a total loss as to what to say or do next. “Are your eyes really green or are those contacts?” he asked.

  “They’re really green,” I said.

  “I wonder what you’d look like with blue contacts,” he said.

  “I don’t know, I’ve never worn contacts,” I said.

  “You ought to look into it. I remember Jane’s eyes, they were deep blue and she had your exact coloring. She was so beautiful.”

  “I’m sure she was,” I whispered, caught up in this weird moment with him and not knowing whether to be flattered or frightened.

  “Maybe next time I see you you’ll have your hair and eyes changed the way I mentioned,” he said with an expectant smile.

  “Maybe I will,” I whispered like an awe-struck schoolgirl.

  Brady’s words to me had only reinforced my declining sense of self-worth. But at the same time, his comments lit a spark of hope in me. Even though I wouldn’t admit it to myself, I thought that maybe I could be someone he might notice again.

  I had the next three days off, and I devoted them to making myself over. I had my hair cut and styled into a fuller, softer look that framed my face. The ponytail I was used to wearing for convenience and ease disappeared. I had the works done at a salon—that included a pedicure, facial, eyebrow styling, and manicure.

  I went to an optical store and ordered blue contact lenses. I didn’t really need contacts, but I got a prescription for reading glasses anyway. The memory of Brady’s eyes on mine when he mused, “I wonder how you’d look with blue contacts,” was like a record playing over and over in my mind. I was desperate to please him.

  I was stuck with wearing the uniforms my work required, but I bought three new ones anyway. They showed off my figure better than my old ones, and my figure had improved a good deal since my running craze began.

  When I walked into Julia’s office to get my assignment three days later, she gasped in surprise at the sight of me. “Heavens, Rachel, you don’t look like yourself! You look great!”

  “Thanks a lot,” I said, pretending to be insulted.

  She turned red and hurried to say, “Oh, you know what I mean. I was just used to seeing you the old way, but you look absolutely wonderful. Did you take a short trip or something?”

  “No, I just spoiled myself a little,” I said.

  I was very pleased that she was so generous with her praise of me. I wanted to be confident that I had not gone too far and become some kind of a clown. Of course, I was not about to tell her, or anyone else, exactly why I looked so different—it was all for Brady.

  When Julia assigned me to pediatrics for the day, I was a little disheartened. The chances of running into Brady on that ward were slim. Usually, pediatrics was one of my favorite places to work, so my less than enthusiastic response puzzled Julia.

  “Oh, it’s fine,” I reassured her. “I like emergency though, and surgery too, just so you know.”

  She shrugged. “We have to send you where you’re needed. That’s what a rotating shift is.”

  “I know,” I said and walked out with a wave and a smile.

  I got to pediatrics and picked up the charts for my assigned patients. Once at work, the old habit of being a good nurse came through,
and I wanted to be sure I was on top of things.

  I noticed with delight that one little boy that had been assigned to me was a patient of Dr. Parker’s. He was a five-year-old who got hit by a car and had two badly damaged legs that required surgery.

  On my rounds, I went to the little boy’s room first. His name was Brian but he immediately told me, “Everyone calls me Zig.”

  “I’ll remember that,” I said with a smile as I started my routine exam. “How old are you?”

  “I’m five and I’m no baby,” he said, but I noticed, without commenting, that he grimaced when I touched his leg.

  “Absolutely, not a baby,” I reassured him. “I never suspected you were.”

  We had a nice chat as I worked on him. Gradually, he relaxed and started to tell me in great detail, as children will do when they trust someone, about his accident. Then he started talking about his home life.

  “Do you have a little boy?” he asked me.

  I was changing his pillowcase, but I stopped to touch his cheek. “No, but if I had one, I would want him to be like you.”

  “Maybe I could be your little boy,” he said with an earnest face. “My dad and I need a mom.”

  His words pierced my heart. Whenever a little kid said something like that to me, I felt wounded and filled with sorrow that I couldn’t do more to help the emotional pain as well as the physical.

  “I’m sure your mom would like to be with you,” I suggested quietly.

  “No way,” Zig said. He was stretched out on the bed with his arms behind him, his hands cradling his head on the pillow. “She just up and took off one day. I guess she got tired of feeding us.”

  I was searching for something to say to him when Brady came into the room. He didn’t see me at first because I was turning the television set on for Zig.

  “Good morning, Brian,” Brady said cheerfully.

  I turned the television set back off and turned to the doctor. “Zig,” I whispered to him.

  He turned towards me and paused for a moment. His face wore a look of total astonishment.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said finally.

  “His nickname is Zig,” I said with a smile. The doctor was still staring at me and his look of amazement gave me confidence. “Don’t you remember me?”

  Brady swallowed hard. “You look like someone I used to know, you look very much like her.”

  “Well, you and I met a few days ago in the emergency room and you gave me some advice on my hair and eyes. I took it.”

  A look of comprehension came into his face as he said, “Yes, the nurse from the emergency room. You look absolutely amazing!”

  “Hey, did everyone forget about me?” Zig demanded.

  Brady and I laughed together. “No, not at all,” Brady said. “I know you’re there, I’m just checking on your condition with the nurse.”

  “Yeah, right,” Zig said and rolled his eyes.

  Brady asked me to meet him outside Zig’s room when he was finished. I left and paced around, trying to look busy. I had to answer a call from one of my little patients who wanted ice cream, and when I finished, Brady was working at the nurse’s station writing orders.

  “What did you want?” I asked coyly, coming up behind him.

  He spun around and faced me. “You,” he whispered, taking my arm. He walked me to the door of the ward. “How about dinner tonight?”

  “I don’t get off till seven,” I said.

  “Seven it is. Shall I pick you up here?”

  “I don’t have anything to wear but my uniform,” I said, afraid he would tell me never mind.

  “That’s fine. I’ll cook for you at my house,” he said. “See you at seven at the north door.”

  One of the nurses who overheard Brady talking to me started teasing.

  “Well, look at you,” she said with a mischievous wink. “Talking to Dr. Parker himself.”

  I blushed and hung my head, pretending to be very interested in my charts. I knew it would be difficult to keep the talk down if I started dating Brady, but in a way, I didn’t even want to try. I was so proud and honored that he noticed me at all, never mind offering to cook dinner for me.

  I thought about my date with Brady most of the morning despite the fact I was very busy. Zig kept ringing his bell for me, but it wasn’t hard to be patient with him. He was just a little kid without a mother who needed some attention—attention I was willing to give him.

  Later that day, I took some comp time I had coming and left the hospital a few hours early. There was no way I was going to meet Brady without cleaning up and looking my best.

  The hot shower relaxed me a little, but when I got out and started on my makeup and hair, I became a nervous wreck. Nothing seemed to work. My hands were shaking from nerves, and I smudged my eye makeup and struggled with my hair.

  Then, I had to face picking an outfit that was just right. I stared at my clothes in dismay.

  “I have nothing,” I moaned aloud. “I have nothing to wear. My clothes are a disgrace.”

  Finally, I chose a simple black pant outfit with a lacy top that I thought was a bit too dressy. Still, I liked the way it made me feel when I walked across the room.

  I dashed back to the hospital with only a few minutes to spare. Brady was waiting inside the north door when I ran in, and I nearly collided with him. He laughed and caught me in his arms.

  “That’s a pretty sexy uniform you have on there,” he teased me. I stammered and lied, saying I had just dashed home for a minute. Brady looked at me with such amused eyes that I finally gave up. I looked at him and sighed, “Okay, I took a few hours off.”

  “I appreciate the effort,” he said, holding the door for me. “But I think you might have overdressed for spaghetti and garlic bread.”

  As we were driving to his house, I started to relax a little.

  “I never would have guessed you were a cook with all the stuff you have to do in your life,” I said.

  He looked at me and I was dazzled once more by his deep blue eyes. “If I knew you liked spaghetti, how is it you didn’t know I could cook?” His question startled me until I realized he was teasing me.

  As a matter of fact, spaghetti was one of my least favorite foods, not only because I didn’t care for the taste, but because it was so sloppy and hard to eat.

  His house was the most beautiful, lavish home I had ever seen. A luxurious deep green carpet covered the vast living and dining rooms, while paths of marble led to the kitchen and other rooms on the ground floor. The furniture was beautiful and rich, and everything either gleamed or glowed.

  “Oh, my,” I managed to say.

  Brady grinned and put his arms around me. “You like luxury, don’t you? Women like you always do.”

  He mixed two drinks so quickly and expertly that I didn’t even have time to tell him I preferred wine. He handed me a crystal glass and I sipped it cautiously. The drink was bitter but it tasted delicious.

  “Oh, my,” I said again.

  “Let’s go sit on the terrace,” he said with a laugh. “I love the end of the day.”

  We went outside to sit on a spacious terrace that overlooked Brady’s perfect yard.

  “Everything here is so beautiful,” I whispered, looking out at all the flowers and the lawn. “How do you have time to keep it so nice?”

  “Because I insist on it,” he said quietly. We were silent for a moment and then, in so soft a voice I almost missed it, he said, “But you should remember that, Jane.”

  “I’m not Jane,” I blurted out in shock.

  His face suddenly turned red and his eyes narrowed. He took a long swig of his drink and stood up.

  “Of course you’re not,” he said coldly. “Sometimes I forget that she’s gone, that’s all.”

  He walked away from me and I set my drink down on the glass-topped table and hurried after him. I caught him just as he entered the kitchen and lifted a lid from a pot on the stove.

  “Forgive me,” I said,
touching his arm. “I guess that wasn’t very tactful of me. It must be so hard to forget someone you loved so much.”

  “Not at all,” he said, the smile returning to his face. “After all, there are beautiful women like you to feed. Are you ready for spaghetti?”

  I smiled and nodded, grateful that his good humor seemed to be restored.

  “Let me help,” I offered.

  “No way,” he answered, taking my arm and leading me to the candlelit dining room. He gently helped me into a chair. “You are my lovely guest and I do know who you are. You are Rachel.” I smiled up at him, dazzled by his touch and his presence. “But you just look like Jane,” he added as he walked out to the kitchen.

  I sat like a hopeful child waiting for supper. I didn’t know what to think about this man, but as I looked around at the luxury in which he lived, I was grateful to be there. Whatever he had in mind, I was determined to enjoy the evening. After all, it may be the one night of my life that I would ever share with him.

  Managing the spaghetti without making a fool of myself was easier than I imagined, and I avoided the garlic bread completely. I nibbled on my salad as I listened to Brady talk about life, art, and himself. I was tantalized by his every gesture. I kept looking at him as the room darkened and night set in. The candles on the table gave his beautiful silver hair a lustrous glow. His handsome face seemed even more beautiful, and surprisingly tender, in the light from the candles.

  Finally, we finished eating and I began to clear the table.

  “What are you doing?” he asked in a surprised tone. “I have help to do that kind of thing.” His voice was angry with a slight tinge of disgust.

  I was embarrassed, despite the fact that I was only trying to help. We went into the living room and Brady turned on some classical music. I felt very elegant as I sipped my drink and sat next to this breathtaking man.

  We talked softly together for a while, and then suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to him, he pulled me to him and kissed me with so much intensity and passion I was breathless. “I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he whispered as he stroked my hair and looked into my eyes.