An Informal Arrangement (Informal Romance Book 2) Read online

  An Informal Arrangement

  by Heather Gray

  an Informal Romance novel

  Informal Romance Books

  An Informal Christmas

  An Informal Arrangement

  An Informal Introduction

  An Informal Date (Fall 2016)

  An Informal Affair (Spring 2017)

  ©2016 by Heather Gray

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken from the HCSB®, Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2009 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. HCSB® is a federally registered trademark of Holman Bible Publishers.

  Cover design by Heather Gray.

  Cover art photos ©sudok1/Fotolia, ©kopitinphoto/Fotolia. Used with permission.

  Published in the United States of America by Heather Gray

  www.heathergraywriting.com

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Informal Romance Books

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Bible Verse

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Other Books by Heather Gray

  Preview of An Informal Introduction

  in celebration of my Savior

  in memory of my daughter

  with pride in my son

  with gratitude for my husband

  But He said to me , “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.” Therefore, I will most gladly boast all the more about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may reside in me.

  2 Corinthians 12:9

  “No, no, don’t flush the toilet!”

  Maddie ran into the room, assessed the situation, and placed her hand on the patient’s shoulder, shaking him lightly. “Mr. Jenkins. Mr. Jenkins, it’s just a dream.” This was her first day working with him, but he’d been on the unit for a while. Nothing in his file indicated a history of night terrors or bad dreams.

  The man in the bed groaned and thrashed. “Not… albino… horned toa’… Please, no.” Was he talking about toes or — a shudder tore through her — toads?

  Had he seen one? She fought a shiver as she searched the immediate vicinity. No toads — horned or otherwise — in sight. He was obviously dreaming, but still… What did a horned toad look like, anyway? Not a frog with antlers, surely.

  Every off-white nook and cream-colored cranny of the room came under careful scrutiny as Maddie continued speaking to her distressed patient. “Mr. Jenkins, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

  His eyelids fluttered for a moment before opening. When he saw her, Mr. Jenkins’ eyes grew wide. A remnant of sleep slowed his voice. “Is everything okay?”

  What was she supposed to say to that? Tell the poor man he’d awakened her deep-seated dislike of all creatures not cute and furry? Or worse, explain how that dislike had been birthed?

  “You, uh, were having a dream.” Brilliant response.

  “I was?” He scratched along his stubble-darkened jaw, emanating a masculinity that belied the days he’d spent in the ICU. “I kind of remember it. Was I talking in my sleep? I do that sometimes.” He glanced around and licked his lips before whispering, “Is there a reason you seem so alarmed?” His voice, smooth like hot apple cider on a cold winter’s day, warmed her.

  Maddie blinked. She shouldn’t have let her mind go down that path. Some thoughts didn’t belong at work. “You mentioned something about a toad…” Her remark hung between them like a two-day old helium balloon.

  The worry wrinkles on his forehead faded away, melting into his hairline and drawing her eyes to light chestnut hair that couldn’t seem to make up its mind whether it wanted to stand at attention or lie down and take a nap.

  “Umm, I guess I remember. Huh. I wonder where that dream came from.” If his nonchalance was anything to go by, he had to dream about toads on a regular basis.

  “And you mentioned the toilet.” Maddie took a deep breath and went about her morning routine. Shift had just started, and she still needed to do her patient assessment.

  She put the blood pressure cuff on Mr. Jenkins as he told her about his dream. “There was an albino horned toad that got out of its terrarium. It was in the toilet for some reason, but because the commode was white, nobody could see it. Which doesn’t make sense. Albino animals aren’t pure white, but what can I say? A hand reached for the lever to flush, and I panicked. That’s when you woke me.”

  After she charted his blood pressure and listened to his heart and lungs, she asked, “What exactly is a horned toad? I’m picturing something froggish.”

  Mr. Jenkins laughed, disturbing Maddie’s attempt to count his pulse. He reined himself in, and she began counting again. “Frogs and toads are different, you know, and a horned toad isn’t even a toad. Not really, anyway. It’s a lizard.”

  Her eyes darted around the room again. Maddie worked with people — and not animals — for a reason. “So toads and frogs are different, but a horned toad isn’t a toad.”

  “That’s right. The people who discovered and named it must have been confused.”

  Maddie held up an index finger. “Hold on a second.” Then she marched over to the small attached bathroom. An empty toilet had never been so beautiful. She stepped back into the room. “Whew. All clear.”

  When her patient chuckled, she knew she’d hit the mark.

  “Are you sure you’re not the one who’s confused? A toad that’s not a toad?” She quirked her eyebrow as laughter sparkled in Mr. Jenkins’ eyes.

  “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

  “Are you aware you’ve been the talk of this unit?” Maddie kept up the banter as she continued her assessment.

  “We’re in the ICU. Being talked about might not be such a good thing.” The strain of his current health situation didn’t bleed into his congenial voice.

  Some patients were better than o
thers at compartmentalizing. They put their problems aside, lived in the moment, and in some cases wouldn’t even acknowledge whatever illness, predicament, or condition had landed them in the hospital. Maddie often associated such behavior with men, but Mr. Jenkins was taking it to a new level. She decided to prod. “You’re improving more rapidly than anyone here expected. We’re all happy for you.”

  “I didn’t do anything. All the credit goes to God.” As if an afterthought, he added, “And the medical staff here, of course.”

  Maddie turned away. It wasn’t his testosterone-dominated brain at work. Faith was to blame. Her stomach lurched. “So if it’s not a frog or a toad, what is it?”

  Mr. Jenkins graciously allowed the change in subject even though he’d already told her once. “A lizard. The cool thing about it is how, when it feels threatened, blood shoots out of its eyes.”

  Maddie made the mistake of trying to picture a blood-shooting lizard atrocity. She didn’t get far in her attempt before dots danced in front of her eyes and she realized her mistake.

  Poor Mr. Jenkins shot a look at the monitors that showed the readings from the various pieces of medical equipment attached to him. Obviously she hadn’t kept her reaction from showing. His eyebrows drew together as he studied the data. A second later, he lifted his hands, palms out. “You’re, uh, losing color. It’s not as bad as all that… Is it?”

  Blood shooting out of eyes wasn’t bad? Nothing in his chart indicated early-onset dementia. Perhaps she should review the list of medications he was on.

  “You’ll likely never come across one around here, anyway.” His placating voice asked forgiveness while his confused eyes said he didn’t know what he’d done wrong. “They’re mostly in the southwest.”

  “Mr. Jenkins, how are you doing today?” Dr. Sage stood in the doorway, his tall form and imposing physique a contrast to the patient in the bed.

  “Good, thank you. Please call me Holden.” His eyes shifted to Maddie. “You, too.”

  “Of course,” the doctor replied before turning to her. “How are his vitals?”

  “Steady,” she told him. “Heart rate was elevated, but he’d just woken from a dream. It quickly came back down to normal.”

  Dr. Sage raised both eyebrows. “I do believe, Holden, that patients all the way over in the next wing are now afraid to flush.”

  Color crept up his neck and into his cheeks. “Was I that loud?”

  “Not at all.” The doctor’s tone was drier than the Sahara during drought season.

  Holden winced.

  A chuckle softened the stern lines of the doctor’s face. “But you did add a little spice to our shift change this morning. To be honest, if a patient is going to yell at the top of his lungs about something, I’d much rather it be the toilet than the care he’s receiving.”

  Holden shook his head. “You’ve all been great. Having said that, I can’t wait to get out of here, and I hope I never meet any of you again. At least, not under these circumstances. No offense intended.”

  “None taken.” The doctor tipped his head to the side. “On that note, I’ve got some news. We’ll be transferring you out of the ICU later today to a bed on the main floor. You’ve got a long recovery ahead of you, but you’re no longer in imminent danger.”

  “Do you know yet what caused all of this?” Holden waved a hand to indicate his body.

  The doctor frowned. “There are still several tests pending. At present all we can say for certain is that you presented here at the hospital with Transverse Myelitis, apparently subacute. You didn’t suffer a stroke or obvious spinal injury, and we could find no tumor, slipped disc, or other abnormalities to indicate the cause of your problem.”

  Holden wanted to know what had put him in the hospital. Maddie was pretty sure he didn’t want a list of everything that hadn’t landed him in their care.

  The doctor cleared his throat. “Sorry. We’re a teaching hospital. Sometimes I forget to take the teacher hat off.” With a shake of the head, he began again. “We’re still considering a viral cause. Have you heard of viral meningitis?”

  Color drained from Holden’s face as he nodded. “Is that different from transverse…?”

  Dr. Sage held up a hand. “Sorry. You don’t have viral meningitis. It’s just an example of how perfectly ordinary viruses, when they get into the wrong places in our body, can cause devastating damage.”

  “So I got a virus?”

  The doctor’s head bobbled back and forth for a second before he answered. “The problem for us is that, while there are a few main culprits when it comes to Transverse Myelitis, the sheer number of known viruses makes it challenging to pin down the cause. We’re also running genetic tests to look for certain markers that might help us pinpoint underlying causes. It may be several weeks before we have a definitive answer.”

  “What sorts of underlying causes?”

  Maddie gritted her teeth. Sometimes less information was better for the patient’s peace of mind.

  “I’d rather not worry you until we know something.” The doctor studied Holden for a beat before continuing. “And I have to be honest. We might never know. Test results aren’t always clear-cut.”

  Holden opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the doctor’s pager went off. He glanced at the device and read the screen before shaking his head. “I have to run. Maddie can answer some of your questions, or your doctor when you get out on the floor. If I don’t see you again before then, I wish you all the best.” The doctor held out his hand, and the two shook.

  Dr. Sage rushed from the room and Maddie was left staring at a none-too-happy patient.

  “Is it always this hard to get answers?”

  Tact could be overrated. This wasn’t one of those times. “Sometimes we run tests for diseases that would terrify most people. If we’re checking you for every imaginable horrifying illness known to man, do you really want to know that?”

  “I have a right to know.”

  “Of course you do, but you weren’t entirely coherent when most of these tests were ordered. Dr. Sage wasn’t trying to hide anything from you. That’s not the kind of doctor he is. He probably just didn’t know how to answer the depth and breadth of what we’ve looked at so far.”

  “Can you give me an overview?”

  “Sure. You’re in your early thirties, so most of the age-related causes are off the table. You don’t have HIV or systemic lupus erythematosus. We found no evidence of varicella zoster, herpes simplex, hepatitis, or rubella. They haven’t ruled out Devic’s disease or multiple sclerosis as underlying causes yet, and some of the virus tests are still outstanding.”

  He ran a hand down his face.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  Holden nodded. “I think I’ve heard enough for now. What happens if they can’t narrow down the cause?”

  Maddie offered a half-shrug. “Your official diagnosis would become Idiopathic Transverse Myelitis. Idiopathic just means the cause couldn’t be identified.”

  One of the other nurses stuck her head into the room. “Maddie, they’re waiting on you to give report on your patient in 203.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  She turned back to Holden, who waved her off. “Go ahead. I’m fine.”

  With her thoughts moving ahead to her other patient, Maddie gave him a distracted nod. “I’ll be back in a little bit to get breakfast ordered and take care of anything else you need.”

  She heard his soft “Thank you,” as she slipped out the door.

  When Maddie walked back into his room, Holden’s eyes were closed. Curtainless windows framed the tips of bare trees. January in northern Virginia was stark, grey, and frigid.

  She stepped closer to the bed to check on her patient, trying not to wake him if he was sleeping. As she leaned in, his eyes popped open, and she jumped. Her reaction had little to do with his sudden movement, though. In truth, the crisp emerald green of his eyes caused her unexpected response. How had she not
noticed their gem quality earlier? Oh, that’s right. She’d been too busy checking the room for reptiles. In the intensive care unit, no less.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Did I startle you?”

  “Your eyes are the same color as a frog.” Maddie fought the urge to grimace. Holden would have every right to regale the floor nurses with tales of his frog-toad-lizard obsessed ICU nurse.

  He didn’t, however, take advantage of the chance to mock her. “I get the feeling you don’t much care for them.”

  A shudder moved up her spine and shook her shoulders. “I’m not fond of any animal without fur on at least some part of its body.” How did they keep ending up on this topic? Maddie needed to change the subject, and she reached for the first question that came to mind. “What would you like for breakfast? Anything in particular?” Hopefully she could prove there was more to her than a phobia he likely thought silly. Not that his opinion mattered. She wouldn’t see him again after he left the unit.

  “Bacon.”

  His gusto tugged a reluctant smile from her. “Once you’re out on the floor, you won’t get to order your meals whenever you want. You’ll need to submit your requests a day in advance, and you won’t have as many choices. So let’s make the most of your last day in intensive care.”

  She skimmed the menu before picking up the phone and calling down to the kitchen. “This is Maddie. I’m the nurse for the patient in room 723, Mr. Jenkins. I’m calling to order his meal.”

  “Mr. Jenkins, room 723… All right, go ahead with your order.”

  “He would like the bacon breakfast burrito, with pork bacon instead of turkey. And the bacon breakfast sandwich, also with pork bacon, but without the egg, cheese, or English muffin, please. Orange juice to drink and…” Tossing a saucy grin at Holden, she said, “You know what? Go ahead and add a side of bacon to that. Pork, though. Not turkey.”

  The man taking the order sputtered for a bit before asking her to hold. A supervisor’s authorization was required before the order-taker could approve such a gluttonous combination. The kitchen was supposed to serve healthy meals. Go figure. The bacon-fest of an order she’d placed jeered at such constraints.