Page 39 of Brian and Cora
“I think you’re going to need this.” She picked up an object resting on a chair and held it up.
“What. Is. That?” Even as Brian asked the question, he was sorely afraid he knew the answer.
“It’s a Eureka bedpan.” She patted the wedge. “The latest design in bedpans. So much lighter and easier to use and clean. Not like those cumbersome ones we had to deal with at the hospital where I volunteered.”
“You sound like a bedpan saleswoman.”
She chuckled and held up the bedpan with both hands, her expression changing to mock solemnity. She turned it several ways, as if for him to admire the entirety of the object. “Step right up and buy the one and only Eureka bedpan!” she said in the pattering cadence of a street huckster. “Astound all your family and friends recuperating at your home with the latest bedpan design.”
Brian wanted to bark out a laugh at her clever rendition. Yet he held back, not willing to encourage her.
Undeterred by his lack of response, she continued acting. “Of equal capacity yet far lighter than those old-fashioned earthenware versions. Save your wife or your servants the pain of carrying a heavy basin, instead of this light, yet durablecontainer. In fact, it’s so light and convenient, that the patient may handle it without assistance.” She sent him a pointed look.
That possibility piqued his interest. If he could manage on his own—still awkward, painful, and embarrassing—but without, thank the Good Lord, the possibility of exposing any of his private body parts to her. Or even worse, her touching those parts.
She set down the bedpan and turned back to the stove. “Let me plate the food, and then I’ll go into the bedroom and give you some privacy.”
Grateful for her consideration, he nodded. “Appreciate that.”
The woman wasn’t anything like he expected. In Brian’s experience with his former fiancé, the minute he turned grumpy, she became lachrymose. She accused him of being insensitive, being unkind, of not being chivalrous, not being a gentleman. It got to the point where he felt like tiptoeing around her on uncertain ground where he inevitably was going to flounder and end up in the mud. I ended up in a crater.
He tilted his head, studying her slim form.
Maybe I will use her name. Cora.
After breakfast,of which her patient had eaten every bite, Cora heated water for washing the dishes. While her hands moved to do the tasks, her thoughts lingered on last night when helping Brian into bed. Afterward, she tried to ignore that moment of heightened awareness between them and, blessedly, fatigue certainly helped, sending her into sleep. But this morning, seeing him all rumpled and grumpy and growly, which should be a repelling sight for a right-thinking woman, instead she foundhim endearing, a feeling she tried without complete success to squash.
From the front door, she heard a knock, followed by a little voice calling out, “Bry-an!”
Who? Cora glanced at Brian to see his familiar glower directed at the door. But, despite the scowl, his eyes looked concerned.
“Bry-an!”
“A child?”
He didn’t respond, only shifted, and then grimaced.
With a roll of her eyes, Cora went to open the front door.
There stood a girl wearing a pink dress and clutching a handful of colorful fall leaves. Her dark brown hair was mussed, as if not combed today, and, seeing Cora, her almond-shaped blue eyes looked frightened. She made as if to skitter away.
“Why, hello, there.”
The girl froze. “Hel-lo.”
“It’s all right, sweetheart.” Cora crouched to be more level with the child. “I’m Brian’s friend. There’s no need to be scared of me.” Up close, she could tell by the child’s features that she was a mongoloid. But she looked clean and healthy, even if her hair did need combing. Someone’s taking good care of her. “Do you want to come in and see Brian?”
“Bry-an hurt leg.”
“Yes, he did. But he’s getting better. Do you want to see him?” She straightened and held out a hand.
The girl hesitated.
“Jewel,” Brian called. “I’m here. Come to me.”
The girl slipped her hand into Cora’s.
With a warm glow in her heart, Cora led her inside and over to Brian. “You must be very careful of his leg.”
