Tender Loving Care

“Yeah.” Wendi walked into the kitchen. “I didn’t feel like eating any dinner. Wow, you can really cook.”

“Most people can. Why are you surprised?”

She shrugged. “My dad barbecues about once a year and we usually have to call the fire department. Mrs. Dupuis does all our cooking. She’s the housekeeper.”

Melissa peeled off three more strips of bacon. “Where is she now?”

Wendi sat on the stool in the corner and started braiding her long hair. “France. She’s got a ton of relatives. I went with her last year, but this summer Dad’s sending me to some dumb day camp. Don’t you think I’m way too mature for camp?”

Melissa glanced at the preteen; the path of the tears was clearly defined on her face. Despite her height and air of sophistication, she looked like a scared little girl. “Sounds like fun to me. Do you go every day?”

“Nah. Three days a week. It’s computers and math and stuff. Dad wants me to be an architect or an engineer.”

“And what do you want to be?”

Wendi shrugged. “Maybe a model, or an astronaut. I haven’t decided. Wanna see my room?”

The swift shift in conversation caused Melissa to stop squeezing the juice. If Wendi wanted to be friends, who was she to argue? “Ah, sure. I haven’t started cooking yet.”

Melissa followed the girl out of the kitchen. She hadn’t had a chance to explore the rest of the house. Logan’s room was to the right of the living room. Wendi moved toward a door on the left side of the kitchen. They passed through the formal dining room, complete with a built-in hutch and buffet and a pair of French doors that looked out onto the patio and pool. A vague sense of unease began to nibble at her confidence. Melissa tugged on the belt of her robe. She suddenly felt dowdy and underdressed.

Wendi pointed down the short hall. “That’s Mrs. Dupuis’s room. Normally she keeps an eye on me, but this summer I get to play my music really loud.”

Her grin eased Melissa’s feeling of apprehension. But when Wendi pushed open her bedroom door, the knot returned to Melissa’s stomach.

She had a vague impression of delicate furniture and lace draperies, but her attention was caught by a stunning portrait hanging on the opposite wall. The woman in the painting was young, not quite thirty, and dressed in a formfitting gown. Dark hair fell in a smooth line of satin all the way to the middle of her back. Wide almond-shaped eyes, the exact color of the emeralds clinging to her neck, seemed to stare into Melissa’s soul and find her wanting. The high cheekbones and haughty curve of her mouth were familiar…and incredibly beautiful.

“What a lovely picture,” Melissa said. “But I can’t help thinking I’ve seen her before. Who is she?”

“She’s the spokesperson for Fire perfume and the star of the daytime soap, The Proud and the Powerful.” The pride in her voice was evident.

“I don’t watch much TV, but I’m sure I’ve caught her a few times.” She moved closer. There was something about the eyes that…

Wendi began to giggle. “Didn’t Dad tell you?”

Melissa swallowed, guessing what the girl was going to say. “No.”

“Fiona Phillips is my mom.”

Chapter Three

Somehow Melissa managed to get back to the kitchen and finish making breakfast. By the time she’d put the two meals on a tray and brought the food into Logan’s bedroom, her heartbeat had returned to normal.

Wendi was curled up on the bed, her head on her father’s shoulder. It was a perfect domestic scene, the “beautiful people” at home. Bitterness rose in her throat, but she pushed it down. When the job was done, she’d analyze her emotions; today she had work to do.

“Here’s breakfast, gang,” she said cheerfully. “Logan, I cut your French toast into strips.” She set the tray over his lap, then handed Wendi her plate. Taking his fingers in her own, she pointed to the food. “French toast, bacon, more strawberries, juice, coffee.”

“I can’t eat all that,” he said.

“I can,” Wendi offered.

“No sneaking food until your dad’s done. Promise?”

The girl nodded and nibbled on her bacon.

Melissa measured out his morning medication and placed the pills in his hand. “Drugs first.” She was pleased when he swallowed them without complaint.

When he set the empty juice glass down, he sighed. “I can’t remember the last time I had fresh squeezed. Thanks, Melissa.”

Why did he have to smile at her like that? she thought angrily. Didn’t he know it made her feel all weak in the knees? With Wendi watching their every move, she had to guard against any emotion showing on her face.

“You two eat up. I’m going to go shower and change.” She started from the room.

Logan called her back. “Aren’t you joining us for breakfast?”

Melissa glanced at the bed. There wasn’t room for a third person. “No. I’m not hungry.”

“Dad, do you know what Melissa’s wearing?” Wendi asked. Her mouth curved impishly. “A bathrobe. Good thing Mrs. Dupuis isn’t here to see.”

Logan looked up. “Mrs. Dupuis is the soul of propriety. She’s worked for us for almost five years and I’ve never even seen her in anything but her uniform.”

Melissa smiled self-consciously. “I’ve got one up on Mrs. Dupuis,” she said as she turned to leave. “You’ve never seen me at all.”

Melissa buttoned her cotton blouse and tucked it into her jeans. After giving her hair one more flick with the brush, she stepped out of the bathroom. The mirrored closet doors reflected her image, and she closed her eyes as she remembered the woman in the portrait.

You’re a fool, she told herself firmly. Look at who his ex-wife is. So what if he was friendly and teasing? It didn’t mean a thing. Patients always came on to nurses; the story was as old as the profession itself. When his eyesight was better, he’d be off living his life, and she’d be off living hers.

But last night, long after he’d drifted to sleep, she’d lain awake and relived the evening. And when she’d gone in to check on him, and he’d rolled over sleepily and called her by name, she’d allowed herself to dream. There were worse things to be than a fool.

She opened her eyes and stared at her reflection. A short, plain woman stared back. Medium, just as she’d told Logan. Her short hair was baby fine and refused to hold a curl. The memory of Fiona’s long dark tresses made her want to scream in frustration. Enough, she said silently. No more feeling sorry for poor little me. I’ve a job to do and I’m going to do it. He’s the patient and I’m the nurse. And that’s the end of the story.

Straightening her shoulders, she walked into Logan’s room.

“…and then I’m going back over to Kelly’s. I wasn’t very good company last night. You don’t mind, do you?” Wendi glanced anxiously at her father.

Pulling his daughter closer, he kissed the top of her head. “Of course not, sweetie. I’m just going to lie around all day and torment Melissa.” He turned swiftly in her direction and smiled.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Your perfume. What is it anyway?”

She collected the tray of dirty dishes. “Magnolias.”

“I thought so.” He stretched his arms up and yawned. The fabric of his robe gapped, exposing his chest.

She felt her mouth go dry. “I’ll, ah, be in the kitchen, washing up the dishes. When I come back, we’ll see about getting you cleaned up.”

Logan frowned. “There’s no way you’re going to give me a sponge bath, Melissa.”