only restored an old station house, but also was in the continuing process of revamping an engine, caboose and various cars.
There was no doubt about it—this little steam engine with its burly black bear engineer and antlered-deer fireman was what he wanted for Michael. And it was after making that decision he belatedly recalled that some croup attacks were triggered by certain flowers or strong scents—so what he’d already ordered could be dangerous.
He carried the ceramic engine to the counter and informed the clerk that instead of flowers he wanted small plants in this container, and he’d wait for it to be made up so he could take it to the hospital himself.
The counter person stated she was too busy to do that right now, but he reminded her that she’d not told him on the phone his order wouldn’t be delivered today. Since he’d have to deliver it himself, he’d just borrow the stool from behind the counter and wait until his order was taken care of.
Seating himself in the busiest part of the shop, he began reading the professional journal that had come the day before, and it was no surprise that his order was made up quickly. He carried it to his car, then headed for the hospital, realizing that even though he should be rooting for the child to already be well enough to go home, he couldn’t help selfishly hoping Michael was still there—and that his mother was with him.
The hospital parking lot was almost full, but someone was pulling out of a spot near the entrance, so he slid into that. He seldom went to hospitals because he found them depressing, but this time he didn’t think of that. He did, however, wonder what in the world he could talk about with a child this young—or with anyone else, for that matter—if Jana wasn’t there. How could he explain to a stranger his personally bringing a gift for this child he’d never met?
He forced himself to get on the elevator when the doors opened—but had there not been people awaiting the exit of whoever pushed the button for the fourth floor, he might have stayed on for a return to the lobby to hand this planter to someone at the front desk. As it was, he stepped into the hallway and stood there for a moment, unsure where to go.
A cheerful older woman wearing a volunteer name tag caught his eye. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, please. Room four fourteen…?”
She pointed toward his right. “Make a left at the end of this corridor. It’s the third door on the right.”
“Thanks.” But his steps were slow as he followed her instructions. The partially open door showed only the foot of the bed, but as he stepped inside he saw first Jana’s stockinged feet, then legs that were quite worthy of notice! Then there was the blue-and-beige skirt and beige blouse Jana had been wearing this morning—and that lovely oval face.
She was lying on her right side, facing him, arm around a little boy with the same fair skin and sugar-taffy hair. His breathing sounded raspy, but Ray had never just stood and watched a sleeping child. He supposed this might not be too abnormal, though it seemed that the little chest, as observed through the cotton pajamas, was rising and lowering more than he’d have expected. Was it perhaps overfilling—perhaps needing more oxygen than usual?
It occurred to him that, notwithstanding all his studies in biology and human anatomy and physiology, in spite of his degrees and being one of the youngest tenured professors on campus, he knew very little as to three-year-olds—and was intrigued by the possibility of learning more about Michael.
As he already was about the child’s mother.
Ray had, of course, dated through the years, but always tried to keep from developing more than a short-term relationship. After all, his goal had been to get where he was now—so why wasn’t he more contented and fulfilled? Why did he have this something driving him to put more of himself into his work, to demand more and more of himself—and of his students?
Jana shifted, left leg sliding forward enough to again be in contact with her small son’s foot, which had moved away a few inches. Even in sleep she’s aware of needing closeness with the one she loves.
That observation made Ray suck in his breath sharply. Even awake, I seldom make an effort to be close to anyone.
What’s wrong with me today? Maybe I’d better just set this plant on the dresser and get out of here. However, he’d told them at the shop that, since he was hand-delivering it, he didn’t need a notification-of-sender card stuck in his train engine container.
He put the planter on the bedside table and was getting a business card from his wallet when he heard a sigh and saw Jana open her eyes and look right at him. He was sure he’d made no noise; had she sensed his presence?
She did not seem startled or uneasy at his being there, just smiled sleepily. Something caught in his throat, and he had to swallow hard. She looked so young, and innocent, and sweet, lying there with her arm around her sleeping son, and he had a moment of forcing himself to stay where he was.
What he’d been tempted to do was to push the table aside and take the several steps necessary to put his arms around both of them as they lay there on the bed—something he’d never before have considered doing!
Chapter Two
In her dream she’d just relived Dr. Hawkins saying she had his permission to hold him accountable—then here he was, a few feet away. She smiled lazily, then sobered as she realized where she was, lying in bed with her arm around her son, who’d been so sick.
“Oh….” It was an almost silent interjection as she cautiously straightened her arm, made sure her skirt was covering her thighs, then rolled over to sit on the side of the bed. “I—didn’t know you were here,” she whispered.
His voice was equally soft. “I just arrived, and I’m glad you were able to sleep. You must have needed it.”
She stood up. “I was awake all night.”
“Well, I—uh…” He looked almost embarrassed as he picked up the ceramic train engine holding several green plants. “I hoped that maybe your son—your Michael would like this. He’s not allergic to just foliage, is he?”
This man is really ill at ease—and I’ve seen that twice today. I never suspected…. Jana held the gift in both hands. “This is lovely, and I appreciate your considering possible allergies. Several of his worst attacks followed being around Easter lilies, poinsettias and mums—and I suspect carnations, though that was only once.”
“Is there anything you can do to control it—shots or anything?”
“It was discussed the last time we were at his pediatrician’s—and we’re scheduled to see the allergist next week.” She glanced toward the calendar on the wall. “Which reminds me to call him today.”
They’d moved across the room so they wouldn’t be as apt to wake the sleeping child, and she was in the doorway when she saw Gram come around the corner. Jana hurried to meet her and put her arms around the older woman, who was asking, “How is our little sweetheart?”
“Much better! He’s still wheezing, but has been sleeping for well over an hour. He hasn’t coughed much during that time.”
“Good!” But then she cautioned, “Don’t be alarmed, though, if he does some when he gets awake.”
“I realize he’s probably continuing to produce phlegm, and his body will try to loosen it.” She briefly wondered about the best way to account for this man being here and decided on making a simple, straightforward introduction. “Gram, this is Dr. Raymond Hawkins. Professor Hawkins, I’d like you to meet Mrs. MaryJean McHenry, one of the most special people I’ve ever known.”
“Ah, yes, the biology professor,” Gram said, not looking at all surprised as she stretched out her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Dr. Hawkins.”
He took the necessary step forward to clasp her hand. “And I’m honored to meet you, Mrs. McHenry.”
Gram admired the planter. “Some