A Hunka Hunka Nursing Love (Women's Fiction)

A HUNKA HUNKA NURSING LOVE

KATHRYN MAEGLIN

SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

New York

Praise for
 
Hunka Hunka Nursing Love

“A clever concept and comical cougars give readers a hot dose of humor as well as A Hunka Hunka Nursing Love. Don’t miss Kathryn Maeglin’s delightful debut.”

—Pamela Morsi, USA Today Bestselling Author

“Kathryn Maeglin enchants as she weaves through the vagaries of life while dating and caring for an older parent. Ms. Maeglin addresses issues of aging some of us wish to ignore, but does it in such a way that we grow to love her endearing characters. Well done. From the beginning scene to the end, this book is about passion and compassion, which we all need in our lives. Excellent and entertaining!”

—Emma Wildes, National Bestselling Author of Ruined by Moonlight and Twice Fallen

A HUNKA HUNKA NURSING LOVE

Copyright©2013

KATHRYN MAEGLIN

Cover Design by Ramona Lockwood.

This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the priority written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher.  The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Published in the United States of America by

Soul Mate Publishing

P.O. Box 24

Macedon, New York, 14502

ISBN-13: 978-1-61935-
247-6

www.SoulMatePublishing.com

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

For my beloved hunk, A.J. Allen

Acknowledgements

I have many to thank for helping me produce this book, first and foremost my critique partners, whose feedback and support have always been crucial: Jan Aldridge, Myrna DeAgostino, Meredith Eastwood, Kathy Flanigan, Judy Guernsey, Shari Held, and last but certainly not least, Oberon Wonch. A big thanks to Soul Mate Publishing Founder and Senior Editor Deborah Gilbert for believing in this book, and to the rest of the Soul Mate team, especially editor Shawnna Perigo and cover artist Ramona Lockwood. There were many who helped me with research, including Drs. Neil and Louise Levine; Lourdes L. Carpenter, physical therapist; Jane Kleinhans, retired nurse; and Carl Caneva, assistant director of the Evanston (Ill.) Health Department. Thanks also to the organizations whose members have nurtured my writing, including Romance Writers of America, Indiana RWA, RWA-Women’s Fiction, the Indiana Writers Center and the Iowa Summer Writing Festival. Thanks to my legal advisers, Michael Swift and the late Doreen Gridley. And finally, thanks to all the friends who’ve supported me, including my original beta readers, Ellen Blix, Julie Johnson and Trudy Ring; and to my wonderful family, especially A.J., without whom none of this could have happened.

Chapter 1

“This is
exactly
what I was afraid of.”

Valerie Palka gripped the steering wheel of her Beamer as she raced to Mercy Hospital in the northern Chicago suburb of Evanston. How many times had she told Mom a woman in her eighties shouldn’t live alone? All she wanted to do was keep her safe. “Why can’t she—?”

A horn blared just in time for Valerie to screech to a halt before the SUV broadsided her. She looked up at the stoplight. Yep, red. She tried to back up, but the car behind her wouldn’t budge. So she sat halfway in the intersection—like the last kid to be picked for a team—until the light changed.

She drove the rest of the way at the unbearably slow speed limit. She turned into the parking lot and navigated around glaring mountains of snow until she found what appeared to be a space. Scuttling up to the entrance, she wondered why on earth she had worn heels two days after a January blizzard.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the hospital’s floor-to-ceiling windows. With her graduated-bob hairstyle and Burberry coat, she still looked like a polished, middle-aged professional even though she wanted to scream like a child.

The glass ER doors magically whooshed open. She expected frantic people, broken limbs, perhaps even some blood. Instead, she found no one. Not even behind the Formica-wood front desk. What the hell?

A woman in pale-blue scrubs suddenly appeared in a doorway behind the desk. “May I help you?” she asked, as if Valerie were shopping for a transplant.

“My mom—I got a call that my mom fell and was brought here. Is she okay?”

“Her name?”

“Palka. Helen Palka.”

“Oh, yes. She’s in . . .” She consulted a list. “Room Eight.” She pointed to another set of doors. “Through there and down the hall, last room on the left.”

Valerie walked through the automatic doors and down a hallway dotted with mobile equipment and reeking of antiseptic. She glanced into one of the rooms she passed but could only see a pair of denim-clad legs. The wailing of a child in another room pierced her heart. As much as she wished she could have had kids of her own, the thought of being that child’s parent terrified her at the moment.

As she neared Room Eight, she
heard the hoarse laugh that could only belong to a unique lady who had kicked a 40-year smoking habit. She entered the room and found her mom on a gurney, appearing a bit disheveled with her left leg elevated.

The sight of her, so vulnerable and injured, stole Valerie’s breath. The attractive young man in teal scrubs chatting with her also had the potential to tax Valerie’s lungs.

“Valerie!” Mom said.

“Are you OK?” Valerie scanned her body for other signs of damage.

“Oh, heavens, yes.” Mom waved an age-spotted hand dismissively. “They shouldn’t have bothered you.”

“Well, we’re still running some tests,” the young man said. “But it doesn’t look like anything’s broken.”

Valerie stepped closer. “What happened?”

“Oh, it’s so silly.” Mom shook her head as if the tale scarcely merited telling. “I just went out to give some stale Oreos to the chipmunks, and I slipped on a smidgen of ice. It was covered by snow, so you couldn’t even see it. It could’ve happened to anybody! Anyway, my ankle didn’t feel so good”—she gestured toward the leg that was propped up and covered with an ice bag—“and I had trouble standing up. You know, this darn fake hip and everything. Well, next thing I know there’s this blaring ambulance in the alley, and I’m thinking, ‘Oh, I wonder who that’s for?’ And then the two paramedics come running into my yard, and I realize they’re there for me! Then nosey Juanita comes waddling over, and I realize she must have called them.”

“Well, thank God she did,” Valerie said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, those paramedics have far more important— Oh! I forgot to introduce you. Valerie, this is Keith. He’s a
male
nurse.”

Valerie and Keith exchanged amused glances. “Yes, Mother, I can see that.” And what an outstanding specimen he was, with muscular arms, hazelnut hair, and eyes a shade paler than the scrubs. Every old lady should be so lucky.
I
should be so lucky.
Jesus, what the hell am I thinking? Mom’s lying in a hospital bed and I’m lusting after her nurse. And I’m still married!

“This is my daughter, Valerie.”

Keith nodded to Valerie. “Nice to meet you. The doctor is consulting with the radiologist, so she should be back in here soon.” He turned to Mom and touched the plastic bag on her injured ankle. “I know this ice pack is awfully cold. Would you like another blanket?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m afraid I do need to use the restroom, though.”

“Sure thing. I’ll get you a bed pan.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Isn’t he a hunk?” Mom asked.

Valerie snorted. “Oh, Mom, nobody uses that word anymore. Now about the chipmunks, I thought you understood we want to get rid of them. They can do serious damage to your foundation.”

“That’s precisely why I was feeding them, so they
wouldn’t
eat the foundation.”

Valerie closed her eyes for a second and took a breath. “No, Mom, they don’t
eat
it, they burrow under it. And I can’t believe you went out by yourself. You know—”

Keith returned with the bed pan and discreetly helped Mom use it. Valerie pulled out her BlackBerry, welcoming the excuse to divert her attention from Keith, who actually seemed to be sizing her up. But when she glanced at him, his gaze had returned to Mom.
Wishful thinking
.

As soon as he left the room again, Mom’s expression hardened. “Now, don’t you start in on me again about living alone. This was a freak accident that could have happened to anyone.”

“But don’t you see? This was like a warning. It could have been much worse, and what if Juanita
hadn’t
seen you? You could have laid there for hours. My God, you could have frozen to death out there!”

“Oh, Valerie, stop catastrophizing.” Mom’s hands went to work trying to get her puffy white bouffant back to normal. “It seems to me you should worry a little less about me and a little more about saving your marriage.”

Valerie breathed in to cool her ire. She shed her coat and tossed it over the one chair in the room, noting the amount of cat hair clinging to the black cashmere and vowing to get a new lint brush. If only getting her husband back were so easy. “Please don’t change the subject. I’m just saying you need a little help with some things.”

Mom glared at her. “You know that Golden Meadows you were talking about, that assistant living place?”

“
Assisted
living, yes.” Mom’s misuse of words got worse by the day. “What about it?”

“Josephine Weisman said you have to pay a hundred-thousand dollars up front to get into that place, on
top
of what you have to pay each month.”

Valerie took another deep breath. Always the money. “Yes, that’s how those places work.”

“It’s robbery, plain and simple. Those places take advantage of seniors and you know it.”

“All right.” Valerie raised her hands in surrender. “We won’t even talk about that.” She was determined to discuss it at some point, but it could wait. “I still think you need a little help, especially now with this ankle injury.”

Mom’s brow contorted in a way Valerie recognized as frustration rather than anger, and her lower lip quivered so slightly most people wouldn’t notice. Valerie took one of her mom’s chilly hands and squeezed it tenderly.

Then a mature Asian woman in a white lab coat came in, followed by Keith. “Hello again, Helen,” the woman said.

“Hello. Oh, Dr. Sing, this is my daughter, Valerie.”

After a quick nod to Valerie, the doctor directed her words to Mom. “The news is fairly good.” She spoke slowly and clearly. “You have what we call a Grade Two sprain, which is a moderate sprain. Okay?”

Mom nodded, her eyes wide with worshipful acquiescence.

“So here’s what we’re going to do.” The doctor outlined the treatment plan and made it clear Mom would need in-home health care.

Valerie immediately began considering the options and decided they would use one of those agencies that offered everything from skilled nursing to simple home helpers. Then when Mom no longer needed the nurse, they could just switch to a home helper. Easy, breezy . . .
bullshit. A little sprained ankle is going to turn Helen the Hardhead into Miss Compliancy? Ain’t gonna happen
. Still, Valerie wanted to give it a shot.

Dr. Sing finished by patting Mom’s hand. “So you can go home today, and we’ll have you back running marathons in no time.”

“Oh, thank heaven,” Mom said. “And thank
you
, doctor.”

After giving Mom a pleasant smile, Dr. Sing motioned for Valerie to follow her out. They walked a few steps down the hall, and then the doctor turned to her. Not a trace of the smile remained. “I see from your mother’s paperwork that she hasn’t had a routine physical for quite a while. I always recommend that anyone over eighty get an annual exam.”

Valeria nodded. “Okay.”

“If you could get her in within the next month or two, that would be advisable.”

“All right.” Advisable? “Did you . . . find something?”

Dr. Sing inhaled through her nostrils. “No, her vitals were fine, and nothing showed up in the blood or urine screens. But there’s something about her coloring that concerns me. It’s probably nothing, but if she were my mom, I’d have her checked out.”

“Yes, of course.” Suddenly chilled, Valerie rubbed her arms. “She’s not too big on going to the doctor, but I’ll do my best. Is there something particular you suspect?”

“I’d rather not speculate.”

“All right. Thank you, doctor.”

Dr. Sing gave her a closed-mouth smile and hurried away.

Did Dr. Sing think Valerie had been negligent?
God, if only she knew. I’d do anything to protect that sweet-and-sour old woman
.

She returned to the room, where her mom and Keith were whooping it up again as he demonstrated how to use an air splint on her ankle. “Once your ankle has healed enough, you can even dance in this thing.”

“Oh, Keith,” Mom said, “I thought you’d never ask!”

More gales of laughter. Dear God, the woman was eighty-one and still flirting. Valerie had to give her credit.

Keith headed toward the door. “I need to go put in an order for a physical therapist to teach you how to use the walker properly, so I’ll be back in just a bit.”

“All right, but hurry,” Mom said. “My dance card is filling up!”

Keith’s hearty laugh echoed in the hallway as he departed.

Recalling Dr. Sing’s comment, Valerie examined Mom’s complexion. Her coloring seemed fine. In fact, her skin positively glowed. “He certainly has a good bedside manner,” Valerie said.

“I’ll say.” Helen resumed fussing with her hair. “Now if you could get a handsome devil like
that
to come take care of me, I’d be willing to consider it.”

Valerie chuckled. Then she looked back toward the doorway. Would a guy like that moonlight?

That afternoon, Keith Nuber paid for his panini and apple, then scanned the hospital cafeteria for a quiet spot.

“Hi, Keith.” Jocelyn, the new ICU nurse he’d met about a week before, waved to him. “Would you like to join me?”

Indeed he would. Not only was Jocelyn physically appealing, with her genuine smile and ample curves, she also exuded something lacking in most of the women he’d been dating: Maturity. But he shook his head while pointing a thumb at his backpack. “Homework. Can I take a rain check?”

“Sure. Take care.”

“You, too.”

He settled at a corner table, pulled out a textbook, took a bite, and began reading. After rereading the same paragraph three times, he paused and gazed out the window.
Why can’t I concentrate?
It wasn’t lack of motivation. He couldn’t wait to get his physical therapy degree. He used to thrive on being an ER nurse, but even though he was only in his mid-thirties, he could already feel the yoke of burnout beginning to rest on his shoulders. Certainly he could find excitement in other—

A tall, good-looking woman walking out to the parking lot snagged his attention. Aha!
That’s
what was distracting him—it was that Helen woman’s daughter. Valerie, was it? Something about her sparked his instincts, and she radiated sophistication. But he’d noticed her wedding ring, so dead end there. Odd, though, since he thought for sure he’d detected signals. But if she wanted a side dish, she wouldn’t find
him
on the menu.

He tried to refocus on his book. The sound of a distant siren interrupted him about ten seconds later, followed by the buzzing of his pager.
Shit
. He scarfed a huge bite of panini as he quickly packed up to return to the ER. Yeah, he was definitely ready for a change.

Late that night, Helen Palka rolled over on her side, then quickly lifted her head. “Stanley? Is that you?”

Her eyes struggled to make out the unfamiliar shape in her darkened bedroom. A walker—not her dead husband—stood at her bedside. “Oh!” Her muscles relaxed as she shook her head and lay back on the pillow.

Her ankle ached, so she looked at the oversized numbers on her alarm clock. Too soon for another pain pill. She rolled onto her back and sighed.

“I really blew it today, Stanley. Every old woman knows,
be careful on ice
.” She sighed again. “There’s no fool like an old fool, huh? Not that you would have been careful. Heavens, no. Not even an iceberg would have slowed you down.”

She sat up enough to take a sip of water, then lay back down.

“You can imagine how Valerie reacted. She practically screamed, ‘I told you so.’ I know she means well, but she just doesn’t understand. And if I ever tried to explain it to her, she’d have me put away for good. I sure wish she could have had kids. Then she wouldn’t be so focused on me and that damn business of hers.”

Helen turned on her side facing away from the looming walker and drew the covers snugly around her as she curled into the fetal position. “But don’t you worry, Stanley. I’ll never leave you. This is our home, and I will stay here until the bitter end.”