Memories of Megan. Rita Herron

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      Megan’s anxiety lifted slightly. She understood how difficult it was to be the new man on the block. As a nurse and employee of CIRP, she should be welcoming him, easing his transition.

      “I do need to review his files at some point,” Cole said.

      “All right.” Megan placed the photograph in the box. “Will you be taking over his patients also? And his research?”

      He glanced down at his hand as if her question disturbed him. “Not right away. I recently had an accident myself.”

      “I’m sorry. Was it serious?” Megan remembered the scars.

      “Yes. I haven’t fully recovered.” She waited for further explanation but he didn’t elaborate. In fact, she sensed the accident was difficult for him to discuss. She understood about not sharing one’s problems, too; her entire life had been a hard road, one that had kept throwing her curves when she least expected it.

      Just as it was doing now.

      Cole stepped into Connie’s office, wondering where the brunette had disappeared to. He felt a small headache pulsing behind his eyes. He poured himself a cup of coffee from the corner table and massaged the side of his temple. What had happened back in Wells’s office? How had he known where the photo of Megan and her husband had been taken? Had one of the other doctors told him? According to Jones, he had only met Tom Wells for a brief minute or two when he’d interviewed for the job. Would he have shared something personal with a stranger? Most men didn’t.

      “Dr. Hunter, are you all right?”

      He pivoted, sloshing hot coffee on his hand.

      “Oh, my goodness.” Connie grabbed a napkin and wiped at his shirt. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

      “Not your fault.” Cole had said the same thing to Megan. “I have a headache, that’s all.”

      “Can I get you some aspirin?”

      He had no idea why the young woman was so jittery. Was she nervous around all men? “I guess it’s just the stress of a new place.”

      “I know what you mean. I was a wreck when I first came here.”

      A smile twitched at his lips.

      “That must seem weird since I’m acting so nervous now, but I really was a mess. Dr. Wells and his wife have helped me immensely.”

      He narrowed his eyes, not quite comprehending.

      “I figured Dr. Jones told you. He doesn’t like me very much.”

      “Why do you say that?”

      “I don’t know. Maybe because I was a patient. Dr. Wells helped me with my depression. And his wife, Megan, she’s a real doll, so kind and understanding. Anyway, Dr. Jones wasn’t thrilled when I took the job here. I guess he thought the center shouldn’t hire former patients. He probably thinks I’m not very stable.” She blushed as if she realized she’d been rambling.

      He nodded sympathetically.

      “If you want someone to show you around, ask Megan. She knows everyone in the psych ward. All the doctors, I mean.”

      “That’s not a bad idea,” he said. As soon as the words left his mouth, the hair at the back of his neck prickled. Before he even glanced sideways, he knew Megan Wells stood in the doorway. He smelled her body spray, a very soft hint of jasmine, the kind of fragrance she always wore to work. Subtle but fresh. She hated heavy perfumes; too many of the patients had allergies and reactions.

      His heart stopped beating. How in the world had he known that?

      “WHAT’S GOING ON?” Megan stiffened. Connie and Cole Hunter were staring at her as if she’d interrupted some private conversation.

      “Nothing,” Connie said with a smile. “I was just bragging to Dr. Hunter that if he needed someone to show him around and introduce him to the staff, that you were the one to do it.”

      Megan shook her head at Connie’s exuberance. Sometimes she acted seventeen instead of twenty-five. Cole’s potent masculinity probably intimidated her. Her husband had been a big man.

      Now, why would I think that, she thought irritably?

      She and Cole were going to be working together. In spite of the circumstances, she had to behave like a professional.

      “I’d be glad to introduce you and show you the facilities,” Megan offered. “Whenever’s convenient for you.”

      “Thanks. I had a short tour when I was here, and I’ve met a few people since I arrived, but I’m still not familiar with the layout of the center.” He gestured to the door. “Shall we go now?”

      “Certainly.” She left the small box of items in Connie’s office. “Follow me.”

      She wound through the maze of offices, pointing out the various names of the doctors and scientists and noting each one’s specialty. Just being here brought back so many memories of Tom. Maybe she should transfer.

      Most of the doors remained closed, and she didn’t want to disturb the doctors’ work by going inside. Cole would have to meet them one by one as the situation called for or at one of the weekly staff meetings.

      “Where are the labs?” Cole asked.

      “On the second floor.” Megan paced herself to suit his pained gait as she led him through the hospital. The next hour she showed him the various floors and departments, pausing to introduce him to different nurses and counselors.

      “Two doctors on this floor are researching a new drug to treat manic depression,” she pointed out. “And Dr. Hornsby’s pet project is dissociative identity disorder.”

      “Tell me about the psychiatric ward,” Cole said as they entered the wing for the mental patients.

      “We see a variety of patients here, some are outpatient and some are here for long-term treatments and must be confined.”

      “Are all of the patients using research oriented treatments versus traditional therapy?”

      Megan shook her head. “Not all. The ones who are have come on a volunteer basis, or they’re severe cases where traditional techniques or medications haven’t been effective.”

      They’d reached the main floor of the mental ward where patients were received and assessed. “We have counselors and therapists who assess and interview patients when they first come in. Of course we take referrals from other physicians as well.”

      “It’ll take you a while to get to know everyone,” Megan said, sensing he was becoming overwhelmed.

      “Ms. Wells,” Janie, one of the volunteers called. “Can you come in here a second? Mr. Boyd is asking for you.”

      “He’s been diagnosed with schizophrenia,” Megan explained softly to Cole. “But he’s been doing so much better with the new medication.”

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