Could I Have This Dance? (16 page)

Claire set the phone in its cradle and mumbled, “At least she didn’t talk to me about the curse.”

She walked to the bathroom and pulled off John’s jersey, then frowned as she pulled down her bikini top to check her tan line.
I think my surgical training is definitely going to affect my tan. Oh, well, a healthy tan is really a misnomer anyway.

She showered, her mind drifting lazily as she washed away the suntan oils. She thought of Brett, and how easy she found it to talk to him.
It’s strange, I’ve only just met him, but I felt so open to share my thoughts. There’s something to be said for shared experiences. Like soldiers in the trenches together, I guess. There’s nothing like another surgical resident to understand your stresses.

And what a build. He doesn’t seem arrogant like most surgeons. He’s probably got the nurses eating out of his hand. I’ll bet they’d do just about anything for a chance to be with—

Thump thump thump.

Claire stuck her head out from behind the shower curtain and listened. Someone was pounding on her front door. Alarm rushed through her as the pounding continued, accompanied now by the doorbell. She wasn’t expecting guests, and no one, as far as she knew, knew where to find her. Who could be knocking?

She shut off the water and grabbed a towel. She yelled at the front door, “Be right there!” She hurried into her bedroom, pulled on a pair of jeans, and threw on the jersey she’d just removed. She crept to the door and peered through the peephole.

She gasped with relief and joy. John Cerelli had come to Lafayette!

Chapter Nine

C
laire yanked open the door and launched herself into John’s arms like a reckless child. “John!” she squealed, loud enough to alert the neighborhood of his arrival.

John pulled free of her grasp and planted a kiss on her lips. “Surprise.”

“What are you doing here?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I knew you had to be under a ton of stress starting your internship. I just wanted to be around for support.”

She led him into her brownstone. “How did you find me?”

“I had your address. I can read a map.”

“How did you know I’d be home? I could have been at the hospital.”

“I called the paging operator. She told me you weren’t on call.” He shrugged. “So I just thought I’d try here.”

She hugged him tightly before remembering how quickly she’d dressed to come to the door. The only thing between her and John’s thin shirt was the jersey. She enjoyed the sensation for a moment before pushing him away. “I’ll be right back.” She took a step back, before feeling the restraint of his grip on her wrist.

“Wait a minute.” He stared at her and smiled.

“What are you staring at?” She lifted her hand to her uncombed wet hair. “You interrupted my shower.”

“You cut your hair.”

“You knew that. I told you about it.”

“But I hadn’t seen it.” He paused. “You look great.”

She wasn’t convinced. “I look like a wet poodle. Just give me a minute, Cerelli.” She retreated to the bathroom.

There, she started to blow-dry her hair, stopping long enough to call out to John to make himself at home and help himself to whatever he could find in the kitchen.

After fixing her hair, she put on some clothes and lipstick. She found John in the kitchen, frowning at the refrigerator. “What do you live on? Campbell’s soup? Cheerios?”

“Hey, I wasn’t exactly expecting guests.” She looked at the clock. Seven-thirty. “Have you eaten? We could go out.”

John stretched his back with his hands extended high above his head. “I’ve been driving for ten hours. I stopped once—at a McDonald’s for lunch. Other than that, I had a bag of Combos and some malt balls.”

Claire wrinkled her nose. “I’ll take you out for some vegetables.”

“Okay, Mom.”

He moved past her toward the bathroom, stealing a kiss as he squeezed between Claire and the kitchen sink.

Her heart soared. She had told John to stay away, but it was so romantic that he hadn’t obeyed.

She took him to a seafood restaurant overlooking the Danberry River. As they feasted on shrimp, fresh fish, and scallops, she unloaded the stories of her first days as a surgical intern. She told him about Dan-the-man and his silly rules, about Beatrice and her cutthroat antics, Claire’s struggle with giving her first orders, the thrill of putting in a chest tube, the first-blood award, and about the unfortunate man with Huntington’s disease who reminded her of her father.

John yawned and pushed a lonely lemon wedge across the large plate. Claire looked at her own food and wondered if John was listening.

“You need to eat,” he coaxed. “Those shrimp are wonderful.”

She pushed her plate toward him. “I had a salad at Wendy’s before you showed up.”

He helped himself to his favorites and seemed content for the time being, allowing Claire to add one more bit of news—that there were not only twelve interns in her year, but two additional residents who had opted for a lab year, all of whom were competing for eight spots as second-year surgical residents in the program. What she didn’t tell John was where she was when she learned that, and about the shirtless Brett Daniels who had told her.

She studied John as he ate, unable to stop the comparisons between his listening skills and Brett’s, who had made eye contact and seemed to hang on her every word. John reached over and skewered another scallop, sliding it through a trough of butter-herb sauce on the way to his lips.

“This is great stuff,” he grunted.

She nodded and lifted a shrimp from her plate, which now rested closer to John than to her. She chewed, silently mulling over his reaction to her stories. At least he could have acted as if he cared that she was under such pressure.

“I’ve been selfish. All I’ve talked about is me.” She paused. “How long can you stay?”

“Two days. I need to do a sales presentation in Boston. I talked Tom into letting me have the days if I’d save the company some travel dollars for a flight. I need to leave Thursday morning so I can be in Boston by noon.” He sighed and pushed back from the table. “That only gives us two nights together.”

She shook her head. Obviously John hadn’t caught on to her schedule. “Not really. I’ve got to spend tomorrow night at the hospital. I won’t be home until noon on Thursday, if I’m lucky.”

John leaned forward and squinted. “So we can spend the day together, visit the historic sites.”

“John, I’ve got to be in the ICU by six A.M. It isn’t a day
or
night job. It’s a day
and
night job.”

“That’s crazy. They can’t work you like that.”

“Actually, this schedule is the best I’ll have all year. On most rotations, they expect you to be in house every day, in addition to every other night, and you can’t expect to get out by noon on your days off.”

His jaw slackened. Apparently, he was beginning to understand reality. “Can’t you trade call or something?”

She shook her head. “It’s not that easy.”

“I drove ten hours to be with you. I didn’t come to tour Lafayette by myself.”

She didn’t know what to say. She held up her hands. “I’m sorry.”

John looked out the window. He didn’t appear to be enjoying the sunset over the river.

“Maybe things will be slack at the hospital tomorrow evening. If you want, you could come into the hospital and eat with me.”

John sighed. “Unless you’re working.”

She winced and nodded. “I think you’re getting it.”

He mumbled a curse word under his breath. Claire could hear it and widened her eyes in response, but decided it was best to let it pass. It definitely wasn’t part of his normal vocabulary, and she was disappointed. It wasn’t the right time to start critiquing his less-than-Christian response. Especially when it summed up how she felt, too.

She reached over and took his hand. “There will be other times for us, John. This is just the beginning.”

He nodded resolutely. “I know.” He continued looking at the river. “So I guess it was okay that I broke our little separation?”

She smiled. “I’m glad that you did.” She squeezed his hand. “I’ve missed you something awful.”

“Has it accomplished what you wanted? Has being away from me proven anything useful?”

“I know my feelings for you have lasted in spite of the miles.”

He looked back into her eyes. “Mine too. So you still want to be my wife?”

She paused. Why did she hesitate to verbalize her commitment? Her throat seemed suddenly dry. “Yes.”

John pulled his hand from hers and put his hand in his pants pocket, retrieving a small felt box. “I was going to wait until tomorrow night. But it looks like this may be my only chance.” He pressed it into her palm and whispered, “Marry me, Claire. I want you to be my wife.”

Claire gripped the small box, her head spinning. Instead of the thrill she was supposed to feel, the memory of Brett Daniels’ hand on her arm popped into her mind. Why did she have to think of him now? She shut her eyes and pulled the box toward her. “Oh, John,” she gasped, opening the lid. A solitary diamond reflected the light from their table’s lantern. “It’s beautiful.”

She’d known this moment was coming. They’d made their commitment to each other months ago. She’d been introducing John as her fiancé for almost a year. So why did the physical evidence of a ring make her stomach churn?

She slipped the ring on her finger. “It’s perfect.” She felt tears welling in her eyes. The ring was beautiful. She loved John. She also felt confused and a little dishonest at proclaiming her unreserved feelings of lifetime commitment to a man more interested in her shrimp dinner than her trials as a new intern.

Oh, maybe she was being unfair. He’d driven for ten hours and he was hungry. She lifted her napkin to her cheek. Fortunately, tears of joy and tears of emotional turmoil were indistinguishable to men.

John apparently accepted the tears as a sign he’d done the right thing. She could almost see his lungs swell with pride. She leaned forward.
You’re supposed to kiss when you get a diamond, aren’t you?
She kissed him lustily, tasting her own tears, and sobbing through her attempts at making the right response. His mouth was warm, and open for more.

She pulled away and looked at the others in the room. Fortunately, the other patrons seemed to be paying little attention to the young lovers. John’s hand urged her face forward again.

She broke the kiss and pressed her napkin under her nose. “I’m a mess,” she said, standing. “I’ll be right back.” She escaped to the rest room and sat, fully clothed, on the white commode in the first stall. She pulled off a yard of toilet paper and blew her nose noisily before pressing her face into her open hands.

What’s wrong with me? I thought this was what I wanted.

Oh, God,
she sobbed the beginning of a prayer.
Help me.

Claire stared out the window of John’s red Mustang in silence. It was ten P.M., and in spite of the exciting events of the evening, exhaustion was gaining the upper hand. She yawned and closed her eyes, already dreading the sound of her alarm clock.

When they arrived at her apartment, John dragged his suitcase toward the front door and Claire braced herself for the inevitable discussion about the sleeping arrangements. It was already apparent that John felt he was welcome to stay for the night.

Once inside, Claire turned and kissed him luxuriously, but resisted when he nudged her toward the couch. She feared her resolve would weaken if she fell into an old pattern. “John, it’s late. I’ve got to be up at five, and I hardly slept at all last night.”

“It’s our only night together.” He kissed her again.

Claire pushed him back. “I can’t, John.” She took a deep breath. “This is what our time away from each other was all about. I told you I thought we needed to cool it. I wanted to make sure our relationship could handle not having sex.”

His face fell. “I thought the persistence of our feelings for each other in spite of our separation proved that.”

“But it’s not right. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it. But I felt so guilty. I wanted to save myself until I got married.”

“We’ve been over this, Claire. We’re committed. A marriage license is basically a formality. In God’s sight, we’re already one.” His voice was gentle, and although he had backed off in response to her reaction, his hands remained on her shoulders, slowly massaging her tension away.

“But we’re not married, John. And a prayer didn’t change that. There will be a lifetime for us to get to know each other in that way.”

He didn’t speak but pulled her head to his chest. She sighed and hoped he was getting the message. She spoke quietly into his shirt, enjoying his arms around her, but not lifting her face to his. “When I was a teenager, I made a commitment to follow Christ. I decided then and there to do, as best as I could determine, what he wanted in every circumstance.” She tilted her neck, allowing John’s lips to brush her forehead. “I’ve not always obeyed, and somehow I fell into justifying our physical relationship, but I never felt any kind of peace about it.”

She felt his breath, a deep sigh of frustration, as she continued. “So I needed to be away from you. Not necessarily emotionally, but physically. I couldn’t handle being in your arms without wanting more.”

John moved his hands to her lower back, then lower still. He wasn’t hearing.

“I’m not sure I can handle this,” he whispered.

“Yes, you can. You’ve handled it since graduation.”

“That’s different. We weren’t together.”

“And that’s what I needed to test my resolve. A physical separation. And, even if we’re seeing each other face-to-face, we still need to maintain a relationship without sex.” With that, she backed away, holding him at arm’s length.

“This is our only night together.”

“And I want to remember this night without feeling guilty.”

“I drove ten hours to be with you.”

“John, begging doesn’t become you.”

He sighed and sat down on the couch, testing the seat cushions with a pat of his hand. “So this is my bed.”