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Chapter 39: Evening beach walk
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Diagnosis: Love Chapter 40:
DEACON"Hey, Donnie. I heard you're feeling a little rough." I paused at the doorway to Mr. Crew's room, remembering something Emma had told me about giving patients a modicum of control by not entering before I asked permission. "Is it okay to come in and talk with you right now?" The man in the bed turned his head slightly, wincing as though even that slight movement cost him strength. "Sure, doc. Come on . . . in. Join . . . the party." I strolled in, carefully schooling my face to hide my dismay. Donnie Crew had been kicking ass in this second phase of his treatment for multiple myeloma. We'd harvested his stem cells, and then we'd blasted him with heavy-duty chemo to kill off as many of the cancerous cells as possible. He had tolerated all of that well. I had thought that we were on schedule for his transplant this week. And then suddenly, as all too often happened, he went downhill fast. I'd spent a day watching his numbers and hoping like hell that this was just a wei
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 41: Torture
DEACON"So, you brought in the reinforcements, huh?" Donnie managed a smile in Emma's direction. "You gonna help me convince Deacon here that sometimes, enough is enough?" "Mr. Crew." Emma slipped past me and sat down next to Donnie, right on his bed. I didn't miss the way the older man's expression softened as his eyes tracked her movements. "Call me Donnie . . . sweetheart. We're all . . . friends here." She picked up his hand, holding it between her own. "Donnie. Let's be clear that neither Dr. Girard nor I are trying to talk you into anything. We just want you to have all the information possible. Sometimes when people are sick, our perspective can be skewed. A fever can impact our way of thinking."Donnie frowned, blinking rapidly. "So you're saying I could make a decision . . . that could lead to me checking out . . . and it could be just the fever talking?" "I'm saying we can't ignore the possibility." She hesitated. "If we really felt that there wasn't a good ch
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 42: On the farm
DEACONSunday was one of those rare Florida early fall days when I remembered that being outside could actually be enjoyable. When I stepped out onto my patio with the morning's second cup of coffee, I smiled. A cool breeze wafted over me, carrying with it the scent of oranges, thanks to the small tree I'd transplanted from the farm into my yard. The sky was a vivid, endless blue, and the sun was shining bright. As I showered, I thought about Emma and what the day might hold. As if by tacit agreement, we hadn't seen each other since Friday night when we'd left the hospital. We'd both worked on Saturday, but while I'd gone in early to round on my patients and catch up on charting, Emma had come in later, covering the evening rounds. She'd sent me a text on her way in to St. Agnes.Emma: What's the update on Donnie? Deacon: They isolated the type of pneumonia and focused the meds. He's holding his own, but even so, I think they'll have to vent him either tonight or tomorrow. Hi
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 43: Family
DEACON"Deacon Girard, what are you doing pestering that woman out here in the car, when you could be inside, acting like a gentleman and introducing her to us? Stop messing around, boy, and get yourself in here." I chuckled, resting my forehead against Emma's. "She always did have impeccable timing." Reaching for the door handle, I adjusted myself discreetly and climbed out of the car. "Hey, Gram! Are those your apple buns I smell?" "They might be, but you'll never know if you don't get a move on." "Yes, ma'am." I skirted the rear of the car and came around to open Emma's door, gripping her fingers as I helped her out. I kept hold of her hand as we climbed the steps to the porch. "Gram, this is Emma Carson. Emma, this is my grandmother, Anna Girard." Emma extended her free hand. "I'm so happy to meet you, Mrs. Girard. Thank you for having me out to visit today." "Honey, if you call me Mrs. Girard, I'm going to keep looking over my shoulder expecting to see my mothe
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 44: Memories
DEACONThe screen door behind us screeched as it opened. Gram came out followed by Emma, who was holding an old leather album, grinning at me with a teasing light in her eyes. "You were such an adorable little boy, Deacon." She dropped into the chair next to mine and opened the book. "Look at you in your little overalls!" "Gram," I groaned. "What have we talked about? These pictures were supposed to be burned." "As if I'd ever do that." Gram patted Pop's shoulder. "Move your arms, Jimmy, so I can sit down." He obliged, making room for my grandmother to get settled on his lap. I was used to the easy affection between my grandparents-they were never shy about kissing or appropriate touching in front of me-but it still warmed my heart to know that after almost sixty years of marriage, the two were still in love.Next to me, Emma was flipping through pages. "I love this picture, too." She glanced up at me, compassion and empathy all over her face as she tapped a photo of my
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 45: Joy ride
EMMA"Thank you." As he slowly navigated the dirt drive that led from his grandparents' home to the road, Deacon cast me a questioning sideways glance."For . . .?""For bringing me to the farm. For introducing me to your grandparents. They're wonderful." He smiled. "Yeah, I kind of like them. They've been . . ." He paused as though searching for the right words. "Stalwart and steady support as long as I can remember. I never felt a moment of insecurity growing up, even with one parent dead and the other constantly MIA. Gram and Pop had my back, no matter what." "I got that sense from them. As my mom would say, they're good people." He nodded but didn't say anything else as he turned onto the paved road. The car picked up speed, and I let my head fall back against the seat, the wind rushing through my hair and filling my ears. It had been an almost perfect day. I'd loved spending time with Deacon's grandmother, who was funny, irreverent and shrewd. She had made me
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 46: Want it now
EMMAHis lips came down to cover mine, probing and insistent. I opened to him, so ready for his touch, so eager for his kiss. Arching my back, I waited for his hand to wander down my body, dying for him to stroke my breasts and play with my nipples. But he didn't move beyond the kiss, and while I was enjoying the hell out of that, I was impatient for more. Since I'd never been a woman to simply sit back and wait for what I wanted, I decided that being bold was my best bet. Circling his body with my arms, I ran my hands down his back and slipped my fingers under the waistband of his shorts. "Emma." Deacon groaned my name. "Hold on a minute, woman."I tipped my head back to study him. "I'm sorry. Am I moving too fast for you? I thought usually, when a guy brings a girl out to his favorite make-out spot, it implies that there will be some making out. But maybe I misread your intent." "Not exactly." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "But I'm damned tired of kissing you
Diagnosis: Love Chapter 47: Feels like more
EMMABefore today, I'd had a vague idea of where Deacon lived-somewhere in town, I knew, and for some reason, I'd pictured him in one of those soulless townhouses with beige walls, beige carpet, stainless steel appliances and nondescript furniture. Not that I imagined Deacon in those terms at all-quite the opposite-but he was so much a part of the hospital that it seemed to be his natural landscape. Somehow, I'd thought of his home just as the place where he slept between shifts. But I was wrong, because the house we pulled into was the farthest thing from ordinary. It was small, yes, but in a cozy way. The outside was turquoise, which was utterly unexpected and yet absolutely perfect. I spotted a porch tucked into the front of the house before Deacon eased the car into the garage next to his truck.I was curious about the inside, but I didn't get to see much of it right away, since Deacon dragged me out of the car through the door that led from the garage into the house and the
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