sensation. I thought I tasted honey and warm chocolate. I took
another sip and ventured an opinion. "This would go well with warm
brownies and ice cream."
My words surprised him. He
looked like he was struggling to find a reply. "I'm not giving you
ice cream until you're warm again," he said finally. He set his
glass down and knelt on the floor to stoke the fire. He placed
several large chunks of wood in the fireplace, far more than I
considered necessary. Perhaps he felt the room was chilly, or that
I required additional warmth.
He unfolded to his full height
and crossed the floor to me. He placed a hand cautiously on my
chest at the base of my neck, where bare skin showed above the
collar of my t-shirt. I met his eyes with a question, but he didn't
answer it.
"You're still cold," he
murmured, concern creasing lines into his forehead beneath the
crest of orange curls.
I bit back the comment I wanted
to make, that I would always feel cold to his warm hands. There
were differences between us that I couldn't begin to
categorise.
22
After a considerable time,
Aidan seemed to make a decision. "Move over," he ordered, climbing
over me onto the couch. I shifted to the edge of the seat, not sure
where I was supposed to move to. Folding into the space behind me,
he took hold of the fluffy blanket. "Now, lean back." I shifted
back against him and he gave the rug a flick so it settled over me.
He rested his arms lightly on top of the grey fuzz.
I drowsed in the warmth from
him, the rug and the fire, until his voice interrupted my drift.
"You can't sleep yet, not 'til you're warm. I may be a bad doctor,
but I do know what I'm doing."
His words irritated me like the
brush of a jellyfish tentacle across my skin. "You're not a bad
doctor. You're doing fine right now," I mumbled. "I can feel my
feet already."
I'm not sure he heard. "I
should have taken you to hospital." His words were whispered with
regret.
I gave a snort and struggled to
sit up. "I wouldn't have let you. I'd have jumped into the water in
the bay first." I closed my mouth and gritted my teeth so I didn't
say anything else I shouldn't. I reached for my whiskey and drank
some more, hoping to burn my voice past redemption. If I couldn't
speak, then I couldn't say anything else stupid. This was precisely
the sort of situation I was supposed to studiously stay away from.
Oh, to be able to swim away. I stared at the fire, willing its
warmth into my very bones.
"But I can't swim," Aidan said,
sounding hurt.
Nor can I,
right now . My frustration broke some
barrier inside me and I fell back against him, helpless with
hilarity. "You can't deal with a simple case of hypothermia because
you can't swim?"
The man behind me turned rigid
and his hands formed into fists. "No, I'm not a good doctor because
when I'm under pressure, I just freeze up and can't think. So I let
someone else help my patient, because I'm terrified of stuffing up
and making them worse."
I lifted my arm from beneath
the blanket and laid it across his arm, from his elbow to his
wrist. I dug my fingers between his and forced his fist open. My
hand was now warmer than his. "Today, you took care of a patient
with no help from anyone else. You know what to do. Maybe all you
need is the confidence to take charge."
I threw the blanket off and
surged to my feet. The whiskey swirled in my head, but I maintained
my balance. I headed for the kitchen and a large glass of water
without whiskey.
I downed the glass of water and
chased it with another. Holding tightly to the bench with one hand
to keep it from moving, I turned to face Aidan across the dining
table. "I'm hungry," I announced, "and I don't think I can drive
anywhere safely. What do you suggest?"
23
Dinner was the result of a
rummage through the freezer for anything we could throw on an oven
tray. I don't remember the food, because it wasn't memorable –
simply edible.
Dessert I remember, because
Aidan had brownies hidden in the back of the