He drew in a breath and stepped into the room. Without hesitating, he walked up to the bed and smiled. “Hi. I’m Reese. You’re Kalinda, right?”
She was half sitting in her bed, only a few strands of blond hair sticking out from white gauze. Her bandages were in place on her face and arms. The parts of her neck and cheeks they could see were raw. The smell of medicine and sickness seemed to linger in the air, fighting with the scent of antiseptic.
When she didn’t answer, he continued, “Montana told me you can’t get up and move around a lot. I guess that’s why you want a small dog visiting you. My dad and I just got a dog a few weeks ago. Fluffy would sure make a mess of things in here.” He smiled again. “She’s real friendly, but she doesn’t get how big she is. She practically knocks me over with her tail and you should see what she did to the glass dishes on my grandma’s coffee table.” He frowned. “Montana, didn’t Fluffy come to the hospital?”
Now it was her turn to be uncomfortable. “Just the one time. Accidentally.”
Kalinda surprised her by giggling. “I remember. I saw her. Dr. Bradley was mad.”
“He sure was.” She didn’t like thinking about their first meeting. Not that he was any happier with her today.
“Do you like Dr. Bradley?” Reese asked. “I was in a car accident and he did the stitches.” He pointed to the small bandage on his cheek. “He doesn’t think I’m going to have a scar, which is okay, I guess. I wouldn’t mind if I did. I think scars are interesting.”
Kalinda turned away, then looked back. “I have scars. Or I’m going to.”
Reese’s expression turned sympathetic. “Does it hurt a lot?”
The girl nodded. “They give me stuff for the pain. It makes me sleepy. A barbecue exploded. I caught fire.”
Reese pulled up a chair and sat down. “Like on TV? But not in a good way.”
“Just like that.”
Montana backed out of the room. Fay stood with her in the hallway.
“She’s talking to him,” Fay whispered. “I didn’t think she would. I thought she’d tell him to go away. This is good, right?”
“I think so. It’s a form of normal.”
There was that word again—the one that always made her think of Simon. Not that she needed much help in that department. The man was always on her mind.
“Thank you for suggesting this,” Fay told her. “I’m going crazy here, watching her suffer, knowing there’s nothing I can do to help.”
“You’re with her. That means everything.”
“I hope so.”
Reese came to the door. “Do you have any games we can play? Kalinda’s hands aren’t burned too bad, so she could use a joystick or control.”
“Or you could play a board game,” Montana told him.
He sighed heavily. “Yeah, that would be great.”
Fay laughed. “You’re just like my daughter. I did bring in her Playstation 2. Does that sound better than a board game?”
“Lots.” He grinned. “I know how to hook it up to the TV and everything.”
Fay excused herself.
Montana was left standing alone in the hallway. She decided she would find a waiting area close by and read. An hour should give the kids enough time to enjoy the game without tiring Kalinda too much.
She started toward the nurses’ station only to turn the corner and nearly run into Simon. They both came to a stop.
He was as tall as she remembered, and the right side of his face was just as perfect. She barely noticed the scars, except that she knew they were significant to him.
“Montana.”
“Hi. I brought my nephew to visit with Kalinda. So far it’s going well. They’re playing video games.”
One dark eyebrow rose. “That sounds like it will be fun for her. Good. We don’t want her getting depressed. It interferes with healing.” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to speak to you about something. Several children will be by the hospital tomorrow to get out their stitches. If the first one starts crying, it upsets the rest and the morning goes badly. I was wondering if you could bring a service dog by to distract them.”
She nodded, even as she thought about her schedule. “Of course. What time?”
“Nine-thirty. For about two hours.”
“I don’t have any appointments with the dogs until afternoon. I’ll bring one of the bigger dogs. That’ll make more of a diversion.”
“Good.”
He sounded so formal. Distant, even. That was her fault. She’d been the one to cross the line.
She reached out and touched his arm. The fabric of his white coat was smooth under her fingers.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “About what I said before. It’s not my place to tell you what to believe or how to live your life. I barely know you. I was trying to show you something and I got it all wrong. I apologize for hurting you or offending you or whatever it is I did.”
His expression gave nothing away. “And if I say it was nothing?”
“I won’t believe you, but I won’t argue.”
“You like to argue.”
“No, I don’t.” She stopped and sighed. “I don’t mean to like it.”