About the Authors

Starting with non-fiction, DIANNE DRAKE penned hundreds of articles and seven books under the name JJ Despain. In 2001 she began her romance-writing career with The Doctor Dilemma. In 2005 Dianne’s first Medical Romance, Nurse in Recovery, was published, and with more than twenty novels to her credit she has enjoyed writing ever since.

KARIN BAINE lives in Northern Ireland with her husband, two sons, and her out-of-control notebook collection. Her mother and her grandmother’s vast collection of books inspired her love of reading and her dream of becoming a Mills & Boon author. Now she can tell people she has a proper job! You can follow Karin on Twitter, @karinbaine1, or visit her website for the latest news—karinbaine.com.

Also by Dianne Drake

Doctor, Mummy…Wife?

The Nurse and the Single Dad

Saved by Doctor Dreamy

Bachelor Doc, Unexpected Dad

Second Chance with Her Army Doc

Her Secret Miracle

New York Doc, Thailand Proposal

Sinclair Hospital Surgeons miniseries

Reunited with Her Army Doc

Healing Her Boss’s Heart

Also by Karin Baine

The Doctor’s Forbidden Fling

The Courage to Love Her Army Doc

Falling for the Foster Mum

Reforming the Playboy

Their Mistletoe Baby

From Fling to Wedding Ring

Midwife Under the Mistletoe

The Single Dad’s Proposal

Their One-Night Twin Surprise

Their One-Night Christmas Gift

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Falling for Her Army Doc

Dianne Drake

Healed by Their Unexpected Family

Karin Baine

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90220-9

FALLING FOR HER ARMY DOC & HEALED BY THEIR UNEXPECTED FAMILY

Falling for Her Army Doc © 2020 Dianne Despain Healed by Their Unexpected Family © 2020 Karin Baine

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Falling for Her Army Doc

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

EPILOGUE

Healed by Their Unexpected Family

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

Falling for Her Army Doc

Dianne Drake

She’s helping him rediscover his memories…

Can she also mend his heart?

After an injury in Afghanistan, Mateo Sanchez finds himself in an amnesia clinic in Hawaii. Struggling to piece together how he arrived on the gorgeous island, Mateo may not be the easiest patient, but no-nonsense doctor Lizzie Peterson is determined to help the brooding ex-army doc. Only, as Mateo begins to recover, they discover a bond and a temptation that’s so very hard to resist…

I dedicate this book to Mr. Kahawaii,

who took me into his amazing world for a little while.

CHAPTER ONE

SHE LOOKED BEAUTIFUL, standing outside in the garden, catching the morning light. He watched her every day about this time. She’d take her walk, sit for a few minutes on the stone retaining wall surrounding the sculpted flowers, then return to the building.

Once, he’d wondered what weighed her down so heavily. She had that look—the one he remembered from many of his patients, and probably even more he didn’t remember. She—Lizzie, she’d told him her name was—always smiled and greeted him politely. But there was something behind that smile.

Of course, who was he to analyze? It had taken a photo he’d found among his things to remind him that he’d been engaged. Funny how his memory of her prior to his accident was blurred. Nancy was a barely recognizable face in a world he didn’t remember much of. And, truthfully, he couldn’t even recall how or why he’d become engaged to her. She didn’t seem his type—too flighty, too intrusive. Too greedy.

Yet Lizzie, out there in the garden, seemed perfect. Beautiful. Smart. In tune with everything around her.

So what wasn’t he getting here? Had he changed so much that the type of woman who’d used to attract him didn’t now? And taking her place was someone…more like Lizzie?

Dr. Mateo Sanchez watched from the hospital window until Lizzie left the garden, then he drew the blinds and went back to bed. He didn’t have a lot of options here, as a patient. Rest, watch the TV, rest some more. Go to therapy. Which somehow he never quite seemed to do.

This was his fourth facility since he’d been shipped from the battlefield to Germany, and nothing was working. Not the therapy. Not his attitude. Not his life. What he wanted to know they wouldn’t tell him. And what he didn’t want to know just seemed to flood back in when he didn’t want it to.

The docs were telling him to be patient, that some memory would return while some would not. But he wanted a timeline, a calendar on his wall where he could tick off the days until he was normal again.

He reached up and felt the tiny scar on his head. Whatever normal was. Right now, he didn’t know. There was nothing for him to hold on to. No one there to ground him. Even Nancy hadn’t stayed around long after she’d discovered he didn’t really know her.

In fact, his first thought had been that she was a nurse, tending him at his bedside. She’d been good when he’d asked for a drink of water, even when he’d asked for another pillow, and she’d taken his criticism when she’d told him she couldn’t give him a pain pill.

This had gone on for a week before she’d finally confessed that she wasn’t his nurse, but his fiancée. And then, in another week, she’d been gone. She wasn’t the type to do nursing care in the long term, she’d said. And unfortunately, all she could see ahead of her was nursing care, a surgeon who could no longer operate, when what she’d wanted was a surgeon who could provide a big home, fancy cars, and everything else he’d promised he’d give her.

So, he knew the what and the when of his accident. What he didn’t know was the annoying part. As a surgeon he needed to know all aspects of his patients’ conditions, even the things that didn’t seem to matter. It was called being thorough. But for him…

“Giving you the answers to your life could imprint false memories,” his neurologist Randy always said, when he asked. And he was right, of course. That was something he did remember. Along with so many of his basic medical skills—the ones he’d learned early on in his career.

The more specific skills, though… Some of them were still there. Probably most of them. But in pulling them out of his memory he hesitated sometimes. Thought he remembered but wasn’t sure of himself.

Wait a minute. Let me consult a textbook before I remove your gall bladder.

Yeah, right. Like that was going to work in surgery.

He looked up and saw Lizzie standing in his doorway, simply observing him. Probably trying to figure out what to do with him.

“Hello,” he said, not sure what to make of this.

She was the house primary care physician—not his doctor, not even a neurologist. Meaning she had no real reason to be here unless he needed a vaccination or something.

“I’ve seen you watch me out in the garden. I was wondering if you’d like to come out with me for a while later…breathe some fresh air, take a walk?”

“Who’s prescribing that?” he asked suspiciously.

“You are—if that’s what you want to do. You’re not a prisoner here, you know. And your doctor said it might be a good idea…that it could help your…” She paused.

“Go ahead and say it. My disposition.”

“I understand from morning staff meetings that you’re quite a handful.”

“Nothing else to do around here,” he said. “So, I might as well improve upon my obnoxious level. It’s getting better. In fact, I think I’ll soon be counted amongst the masters.”

“To what outcome?”

He shrugged. “See, that’s the thing. For me, there are no outcomes.”

“If that’s how you want it. But I’m not your doctor and you’re not my problem. So, take that walk with me or not.”

“And tomorrow? What happens to me tomorrow?”

“Honestly? I’m a one-day-at-a-time girl. Nothing’s ever guaranteed, Mateo. If I get through the day, tomorrow will take care of itself.”

“Well, I like seeing ahead. And now, even behind.”

“To each his own,” she said nonchalantly.

“Which implies what?” he asked, feeling a smile slowly crossing his face. Lizzie was…fun. Straight to the point. And challenging.

“You know exactly what it implies, Mateo. In your effort to see ‘behind,’ as you’re calling it, you’re driving the staff crazy. They’re afraid of you. Not sure what to do with you. And that false smile of yours is beginning to wear thin.”

“Does it annoy you?” he asked.

“It’s beginning to.”

“Then my work here is done,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.

He wanted clothes—real clothes. Not these blue and green things that were passed off as hospital gowns. Those were for sick people. He wasn’t sick. Just damaged. A blood clot on his brain, which had been removed, and a lingering pest called retrograde amnesia. That kind of damage deserved surfer shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, seeing as how he was in Hawaii now.

“And my work has nothing to do with you. I was just trying to be friendly, but you’re too much of a challenge to deal with. And, unfortunately, what should have been a simple yes or no is now preventing me from seeing my patients.”

She sure was pretty.

It was something he’d thought over and over about Lizzie. Long, tarnished copper hair. Curly. Soft too, he imagined. Brown eyes that could be as mischievous as a kitten or shoot daggers, depending on the circumstance. And her smile… It didn’t happen too often, he’d noticed. And when it did, it didn’t light up the proverbial room. But it sure did light up his day.

“And how would I be doing that? I’m here, wearing these lovely clothes, eating your gourmet green slime food, putting up with your hospital’s inane therapy.”

“And by ‘putting up with,’ you mean not showing up for?” She took a few more steps into the room, then went to open the blinds.

“In the scheme of my future life, what will it do for me?”

“Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.”

“No vagaries here, Lizzie. Be as specific as I have to be every time I answer someone’s orientation questions. ‘Do you remember your name?’ ‘Where are you?’ ‘What’s the date?’ ‘Who’s the current President?’”

“Standard protocol, Mateo. You know that.” She turned back to face him. “But you make everything more difficult than it has to be.”

She brightened his day in a way he’d never expected. “So why me? You’re not my doctor, but you’ve obviously chosen me for some special attention.”

“My dad was a military surgeon, like you were. Let’s just say I’m giving back a little.”

“Did he see combat?”

“Too many times.”

“And it changed him,” Mateo said, suddenly serious.

“It might have—but if it did it was something he never let me see. And he never talked about it.”

“It’s a horrible thing to talk about. The injuries. The ones you can fix…the ones you can’t. In my unit they were rushed in and out so quickly I never really saw anything but whatever it was I had to fix. Maybe that was a blessing.”

He shut his eyes to the endless parade of casualties who were now marching by him. This was a memory he didn’t want, but he was stuck with it. And it was so vivid.

“Were you an only child?” he asked.

Lizzie nodded. “My mom couldn’t stand the military life. She said it was too lonely. So, by the time I was five she was gone, and then it was just my dad and me.”

“Couldn’t have been easy being a single parent under his circumstances. I know I wouldn’t have wanted to drag a kid around with me when I was active. Wouldn’t have been fair to the kid.”

“He never complained. At least, not to me. And what I had…it seemed normal.”

“I complain to everybody.”

In Germany, after his first surgery, it hadn’t occurred to him that his memory loss might be permanent. He’d been too busy dealing with the actual surgery itself to get any more involved than that. That had happened after he’d been transferred to Boston for brain rehab. Then he’d got involved. Only it hadn’t really sunk in the way it should have. But once they’d got him to a facility in California, where the patients had every sort of war-related brain injury, that was when it had occurred to him that he was just another one of the bunch.

How could that be? That was the question he kept asking himself over and over. He had become one of the poor unfortunates he usually treated. A surgeon without his memory. A man without his past.

“You’re a survivor who uses what he has at his disposal to regain the bits and pieces of himself he’s lost. Or at least that’s what you could be if you weren’t such a quitter.”

“A quitter?”

Maybe he was, since going on was so difficult. But did Lizzie understand what it was like to reach for a memory you assumed would be there and come up with nothing? And he was one of the lucky ones. Physically, he was fine, and his surgery had gone well. He’d healed well, too. But he couldn’t get past that one thing that held him back…who was he, really?

Suddenly Mateo was tired. It wasn’t even noon yet and he needed a nap. Or an escape.

“That walk this evening…maybe. If you can get me some real clothes.”

Lizzie chuckled. “I should say you’ll have to wear your hospital pajamas, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“No promises, Lizzie. I don’t make promises I can’t keep, and who knows what side of the pendulum my mood will be swinging on later.”

“Whatever suits you,” she said, then left the room.

Even though he hated to see her go, what he needed was to be left alone—something he’d told them over and over. He needed time to figure out just how big a failure he was, medically speaking. And what kind of disappointment he was to his mother, who’d worked long and hard to get him through medical school. The arthritis now crippling her hands showed that.

There was probably a long list of other people he’d let down, too, but thankfully he couldn’t remember it. Except his own name—right there at the top. He was Dr. Mateo Sanchez—a doctor with retrograde amnesia. And right now that was all he cared to know. Everything else—it didn’t matter.

She was not getting involved. It didn’t usually work. Didn’t make you happy, either. Didn’t do a thing. At least in her case it never had.

Lizzie’s mom had walked out when she was barely five, so no involvement there. And her dad… Well, he’d loved her. But her father had been a military surgeon, and that had taken up most of his time. While he’d always said he wanted to spend more time with her, it hadn’t happened. So no involvement with him, either, for a good part of her life.

Then there had been her husband. Another doctor, but one who wouldn’t accept that she didn’t want to be a surgeon like him. He was a neurosurgeon and, to him, being a primary care physician meant being…lesser. He did surgeries while she did cuts and bruises, he’d always say. Brad had never failed to show his disappointment in her, so she’d failed there, too. Meaning, what was the point?

None, that Lizzie could think of. But that was OK. She got along, designed her life the way she wanted it to be, and lived happily in the middle of it. Living in the middle was good, she decided. It didn’t take you far, but it didn’t let you down, either.

She wondered about Mateo, though. She knew he watched her in the garden every morning. Knew he’d asked questions about her. But the look on his face…there was no confidence there. Something more like fear. Which was why she’d asked him out for a walk this evening. He needed more than the four walls of his hospital room, the same way her father had needed more.

But her father had been on a downward spiral with Alzheimer’s. Mateo was young, healthy, had a lot of years of life ahead of him—except he was getting into the habit of throwing away the days. It was hard seeing that, after watching the way her father had deteriorated.

But to get involved…? They weren’t friends. Weren’t even doctor-patient. Weren’t anything. But she’d been watching the watcher for weeks now, and since she’d be going on holiday shortly what would it hurt to get involved for once? Or, in this case, to take a simple evening walk?

Watching Mateo walk toward her now, she thought he struck her as a man who would have taken charge. His gait was strong, purposeful. And he was a large man—massive muscles on a well-defined body. He’d taken care of himself. You didn’t get that physique by chance. Yet now he was stalled, and that didn’t fit. To look at him was to think he had his life together—it was in the way he carried himself. But there was nothing together about him, not one little piece. And he was sabotaging himself by not trying.

Many of the staff’s morning meetings lately had opened with: “What should we do about Mateo?”

The majority wanted him out of there. Even his own doctor didn’t care. But Lizzie was his advocate because he deserved this chance. Like her dad had, all those times someone had tried to convince her to put him away. That was exactly what they wanted to do with Mateo, and while neurology wasn’t her specialty, she did know that some types of brain trauma took a long time to sort themselves out.

But beds here were at a premium. The waiting list was long, and military veterans always went to the top of the list. There was no guarantee they’d stay there, though, especially if they acted the way Mateo did.

He was never mean. Never outright rude, even though he was always on the edge of it. In fact, he smiled more than anybody she’d ever seen. But he refused to try, and that was ultimately going to get in the way, since there were other veterans who could have his bed and display more cooperation.

The waiting line for each and every bed was eight deep, Janis always reminded her, when she was so often the only one at the meeting table who defended him. His bed could be filled with the snap of her fingers, and that was what she had to impress upon Mateo or he’d be out.

Truthfully, Lizzie was worried about Mateo’s progress. Or rather his lack of it. His time was indeed running out, and there was serious talk of transferring him elsewhere. He knew that, and it didn’t faze him. Not one little bit. Or if it did, he hid it well. Making her wonder why she tried so hard to advocate for a man who didn’t advocate for himself.

“Well, you look good in real clothes,” she said as he walked up to the reception hub where she’d been waiting.

He spun around the way a model on a runway would, then took a bow as a couple of passing nurses applauded him. “It’s good to feel human again.”

“You’re allowed out in the garden any time, Mateo. All you have to do is ask and someone will walk along with you.”

“But today I scored you.” He leaned in toward her and whispered, “Who happens to be the prettiest doctor in this hospital.”

“Save the flattery for someone else, Mateo. All I’m doing is trying to chart a doctor’s note saying you were cooperative for once. So far there aren’t any of those on record.”

Staff were tired of sugar-coating what they said about him and had started opting for snarky comments instead. In their defense, they were a highly dedicated lot who were bound to their jobs by the need to make improvements in patients’ lives—physically and emotionally. And, while Mateo might make them smile, he also frustrated them by pushing them to the limit.

Lizzie nudged a wheelchair in his direction.

“You know I can walk,” he said.

“Of course, you can, but…hospital policy. If I take a patient outside, they must go by wheelchair or else I’ll be in trouble. In other words, comply, or give back the clothes and go to bed.”

“Comply? Easier said than done,” he said, not budging from where he was standing at the nurses’ hub. “Especially when you’re treating me like an invalid.”

In truth, he’d prefer not to step outside—or in his case, be wheeled. There were too many things reminding him of how much he’d forgotten. Most days he wasn’t in the mood to deal with it. Staying in bed, watching TV, playing video games, sleeping…that was about the extent of his life now.

Except Lizzie. She was the bright spot. And she was asking him out…no way he could turn that down.

“Isn’t that how you’re treating yourself?” she asked. “We’ve designed a beautiful program for you here—took days going over it and tweaking it. It’s a nice balance for what you’ve got going on, yet have you ever, just once, referred to it? Daily walks in the garden, for instance? It’s on there, Mateo. And workouts in the gym. But I’ll bet you tossed the program in the trash as soon as you received it.

“Might have. Don’t remember.”

“Saying you’ve forgotten has become an easy excuse because retrograde amnesia is about forgetting things in the past. Not in the future, or even now. What you’re not retaining right now is left over from your brain surgery, but that will improve in time. With some effort. If you let it. Also, if you don’t care about your past you can walk out of here right now—a new man with a clean slate. You’re healthy, and with some caution you’re basically healed. Your destiny at this point is up to you. You can go, if that’s what you want. But I don’t think it is, because I believe you still want help with your memory loss, as well as trying to recall as much as you can about your life.”

“Oh, you mean I want to remember things like how to repair a hernia?”

“It’s all in there,” she said, tapping her own head. “Like you’ve been told. Unless you missed your session that day, procedural things aren’t normally lost. Life things are. And, as you already know, you do still have a little bit of head-banging going on after the surgery. But that’s not even significant at this point. Your attitude is, though.”

“Head-banging would be your professional diagnosis?”

Why the hell did he do this? He didn’t like it, but sometimes the belligerence just slipped out anyway. And Lizzie was only trying to help. He’d heard it whispered that she was the only one standing between him and being sent elsewhere.

“It would be the way you described your headaches when you were first admitted. But you remember that, Mateo. Which means you’re in one of your moods now. You think you can smile your way through it and maybe the staff won’t notice that you’re not working toward a better recovery? Well, I notice. Every little detail.” She smiled back at him. “I’d be remiss in my duties if I didn’t.”

“So, I’m part of your duty?”

“You’re one of the patients here. That’s all. Whatever I choose to do, like go for a walk with you, is because I understand where you are right now.”

“Do you, Lizzie?” he asked, his voice turning dark. “Do you really? I mean, even if I do retain knowledge of the procedural side of the surgeries I used to perform, would you honestly want a surgeon who comes to do your appendectomy and doesn’t even remember what kind of suture he prefers?”

Lizzie laughed, giving the wheelchair one more push toward him. This time it bumped his knees, so he could no longer ignore it.

“Sometimes I wonder if someone should change your diagnosis to retrograde amnesia with a secondary symptom of being overly dramatic. You’re a challenge, Mateo, that’s for sure. And, just between us, an open appendectomy skin closure works best with an absorbable intradermic stitch. Although if you’re doing the procedure laparoscopically, all it takes is a couple of dissolvable stitches on the inside and skin glue on the outside.”

“And you know this because…?”

“I’ve done a few stitches in my time. That’s part of being a PCP. So quit being so dramatic. It doesn’t score points with me, if that’s what you’re trying to do.”

Well, he might have gaps in his memory, including the kind of women he’d been drawn to, but Lizzie certainly held his attention now. Petite, bouncy. Smart. Serious as hell. And that was the part that didn’t escape him. Lizzie Peterson was a great big bundle of formidable perfection all tied up in a small package.

Maybe that was what intrigued him the most. He couldn’t picture himself with someone like her. Of course, in his recent spotty memory he couldn’t picture himself with anybody, including his former fiancée.

“Not overly dramatic. I’m allergic to flowers, which is why I don’t want to go to the garden.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Then why, just a few minutes ago, did you want to go out?”

“Maybe I wasn’t allergic a few minutes ago. Maybe it was a sudden onset aversion.”

“Well, it’s your choice, Mateo. Your life is out there somewhere. Maybe it’s not the one you want, but it’s the one you’re going to be stuck with. You can make your own choices with it, but what you do now will affect what you do later on. And there is a ‘later on’ coming up. You can’t keep postponing it indefinitely.”

She started to walk away but turned back for a final word. She smiled when she saw that he was in the wheelchair, ready to go. Why not? he thought. Nothing else was happening in his life. So why not take a stroll in the garden? Or, in his case, a roll.

He gave Lizzie a deliberate scowl, which turned so quickly into a smile it almost caught her off-guard. “Is there any way I can talk you out of the wheelchair?”

“Nope. I play by the hospital rules and you play by my rules. So, here’s the deal. You cooperate.”

“Or what?”

“That’s all there is to it. You cooperate.”

“Isn’t a deal supposed to be two-sided?”

“Maybe your deals are, but mine aren’t. I like getting my way, Mateo. And when I don’t, I’m the one who gets grumpy. Trust me—my grumpy out-grumpys yours any day of the week, so don’t try me.”

He liked Lizzie. Trusted her. Wanted to impress her even though that was a long way from happening. “OK. Well…if that’s all you’re offering.”

“A walk is a walk, Mateo. Nothing else. So don’t go getting ideas.”

“You mean this is a pity walk?”

“Something like that. You cooperate and I’ll do my best to help you. If you don’t cooperate…” She smiled. “I’m sure you can guess the rest.”

He could, and he didn’t like it. This was a good facility, and as a doctor he recognized that. But as a patient he didn’t even recognize himself—and that was the problem. When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t know the face that looked back. The eyes, nose and mouth were the same, but there was nothing in his eyes. No sign of who he was or used to be.

And he was just plain scared.

“Big date? You wish,” she said on her way out through the door, pushing Mateo in front of her.

Today was Lizzie’s thirteenth day on without a break. But she had her nights to herself and found that if she worked hard enough during the day she could sleep through her nighttime demons. So, she worked until she was ready to drop, often stopped by The Shack for something tall and tropical, then went home and slept. So far it was working. Thoughts of her dad’s death weren’t invading every empty moment as much as they’d used to.

Leaning back to the wall, just outside the door, Mateo extricated himself from his wheelchair—which was totally against the rules.

“Is he getting to you?” Janis Lawton asked, stopping to hand Lizzie a bottle of water.

Janis was chief of surgery at Makalapua Pointe Hospital. The one in charge. The one who made the rules and made sure they weren’t broken. And the one who was about to send Mateo to another facility on the mainland if he wasn’t careful.

“I know the nurses are having problems with him.” Janis leaned against the wall next to Lizzie and fixed her attention on Mateo, who’d rolled his chair off the walkway and seemed to be heading for the reflecting pond. “But the thing is, he’s so darned engaging and nice most of the time. Then when he’s not cooperative, or when he’s refusing therapy… It’s hard justifying why he’s here when my waiting list is so long.”

“Because he needs help. Think about what you’d do if you suddenly couldn’t be a surgeon anymore.”

“I do, Lizzie. All the time. And that’s why Mateo keeps getting the benefit of the doubt. I understand exactly what’s happening. The rug is being pulled out from under him.” She held up her right hand, showing Lizzie a massive scar. “That was almost me. It took me a year of rehab to get back to operating and in the early days… Let’s just say that I was more like Mateo than anyone could probably imagine. But as director of the hospital I have some lines I must draw. And Mateo isn’t taking that seriously. Maybe you could…?”

Lizzie held up her hand to stop the older woman. “It’s an evening walk. That’s all. No agenda. No hospital talk, if I can avoid it.”

Like the walks she used to take with her dad, even in the days when he hadn’t remembered who she was. It had been cathartic anyway. Had let her breathe all the way down to her soul.

“The way Mateo is happens when you don’t know who you are.” The way her dad had gotten. The less he’d remembered, the more uncooperative he’d become—and, while Alzheimer’s was nothing like amnesia, she was reminded of the look she’d seen so often on her dad’s face when she looked at Mateo. The look that said lost. And for Mateo, such an esteemed surgeon, to have this happen to him…

“You’re not getting him mixed up with your dad, are you?” Janis asked.

Lizzie laughed outright at the suggestion. “No transference going on here! My dad was who he was, Mateo is who he is. And I do know the difference. My dad was lost in his mind. Mateo is lost in his world.” She looked out at Mateo, who was now sitting on the stone wall, waiting for her.

“You do realize he’s supposed to be in a wheelchair, don’t you?” said Janis.

“But do you realize how much he doesn’t like being treated like an invalid? Why force him across that line with something so trivial as a wheelchair?”

“Well, just so you know, your friend isn’t on steady footing and he might be best served in another facility.”

“This is his fourth facility, Janis. He’s running out of options.”

“So am I,” she said, pushing herself off the wall, her eyes still fixed on Mateo, whose eyes were fixed right back on Janis. “And with you about to take leave for a while…”

That was a problem. She’d signed herself off duty for a couple of weeks. There were things in her own life she needed to figure out.

Was this where she wanted to stay, with so many sad memories still fighting their way through? And hospital work—it wasn’t what she’d planned to do. She liked the idea of a small local clinic somewhere. Treating patients who might not have the best medical services available to them. Could she actually have something like that? Or was she already where she was meant to be?

Sure, it was an identity crisis mixed in with a professional crisis, but working herself as hard as she did there was no time left to weigh both sides—stay or go? In these two weeks of vacation there would be plenty of time for that—time to clear her mind, time to relax, time to be objective about her own life. It was a lot to sort out, but she was looking forward to it.

Everybody had choices to make, and so far, all her choices had been about other people. What did her husband want? What did her dad need? But the question was: What did Elizabeth Peterson want and need? And what would have happened if she’d chosen differently a year ago?

Well, for starters, her dad might still be alive. That was the obstacle she could never get past. But maybe now, after the tide had washed it all out to sea, that was something she could work on, too. Guilt—the big flashing light that always shone on the fact that her life wasn’t in balance. And she had no idea how to restore that balance.

“I thought we were going to walk?” Mateo said, approaching her after Janis had gone inside.

“Did you have to break the rule about the wheelchair in front of Janis?” Lizzie asked, taking the hand Mateo offered her when she started to stand up.

“Does it matter? I’m already branded, so does it matter what I do when decisions are being made without my input?”

The soft skin of his hand against hers… It was enough to cause a slight shiver up her spine—and, worse, the realization that maybe she was ready for that aspect of her life to resume. The attraction. The shivers. Everything that came after.

She’d never had that with Brad. Their marriage had turned cold within the first month. Making love in the five spare minutes he had every other Thursday night and no PDA—even though she would have loved holding hands with him in public. Separate bedrooms half the time, because he’d said her sleeping distracted him from working in bed.

But here was Mateo, drop-dead gorgeous, kind, and friendly, even though he tried to hide it. All in all, he was very distracting. How would he be in a relationship? Not like Brad, she supposed. Brad was always in his own space, doing everything on his own terms, and she had become his afterthought. There was certainly no happily-ever-after in being overlooked by the man who was supposed to love you.

Not that it had made much of a difference, as by the time she’d discovered her place in their marriage she’d already been part-way out the door, vowing never to make that mistake again.

But was that what she really wanted? To spend her life alone? Devote herself to her work? Why was it that one mistake should dictate the rest of her life?

This was another thing to think about during her time off. The unexpected question. Could she do it again if the right man came along? And how could she tell who was right?

Perhaps by trusting her heart? With Brad, it had been more of a practical matter. But now maybe it was time to rethink what she really wanted and how to open herself up to it if it happened along.

Shutting her eyes and rubbing her forehead against the dull headache setting in, it wasn’t blackness Lizzie saw. It was Mateo. Which made her head throb a little harder. But also caused her heart to beat a little faster.

CHAPTER TWO

“I’D CLAIM AMNESIA, but I really don’t know the names of most flowers. The purple and white ones…

“Orchids,” Lizzie filled in.

“I know what orchids are.” Mateo reached over the stone wall and picked one, then handed it to Lizzie. “There’s probably a rule against picking the flowers, but you need an…orchid in your hair.”

She took it and tucked it behind her right ear. “Right ear means you’re available. Left means you’re taken.”

“How could someone like you not be taken?” he asked, sitting down next to her on the stone wall surrounding the garden.

Behind them were beautiful flowers in every color imaginable, with a long reflecting pond in the background. One that stretched toward the ocean.

“Because I don’t want to be taken. It’s one of those been-there-done-that situations, and I can still feel the sting from it, so I don’t want to make the wound any worse.

“That bad?”

“Let’s just say that on a rating of one through ten, I’d need a few more numbers to describe it. So, you haven’t been…?”

“I was engaged briefly—apparently. Don’t really have any memory of it other than a few flashes, and those aren’t very flattering. Definitely not my type, from the little I recall.”

“Maybe with your head injury your type changed. That can happen with brain damage. People are known to come out the other side very different from what they were when they went in. Could be the Fates giving you a second chance.”

“You can’t just have a normal conversation, can you? You turn everything into work.”

“Because that’s what I do.”

“That’s all you do, Lizzie. You come in early, leave late, and probably sandwich some sleep in there somewhere. I lived that schedule in Afghanistan too often, and it catches up to you.”

“But this isn’t about me, Mateo.”

“First-year Med School. ‘Treating a patient is as much about you as it is the patient.’ Even though some of my patients came in and out so fast they never even saw me, I worked hard to make every one of them feel that they were in good hands, even if those hands were exhausted. But you… There’s a deep-down tiredness behind the facade you put on, and it shows in your eyes. And I don’t think it’s physical so much as something else.”

“It’s just an accumulation of things. Tough decisions. My dad’s death. Things I’ve wanted I haven’t had. Things I’ve had I haven’t wanted.” She gave him a weak smile. “You’re very perceptive for a man who claims amnesia at the drop of a hat.”

“Straightforward talk, honesty…that’s what I was all about, Lizzie. Have to be when you’re out on the battlefield making quick decisions and performing life-changing procedures.” He sighed. “In the end, when you’re all they’ve got, the only real thing that counts is your word.”

“Was it difficult…practicing like that?”

“Isn’t it what your dad did?”

She shook her head. “He had rank, which got him assigned to a base hospital. He was the one who took the casualties that people like you had fixed after you sent them on.”

“Wouldn’t it be crazy if our paths had crossed somewhere? Yours and mine?”

“He kept me pretty isolated from that part of his life. If our paths had crossed it would have been somewhere like that little bäckerei on Robsonstrasse in Rhineland-Palatinate. We lived in a little flat about a block from there, and I loved getting up early and going for a Danish, or even a raspberry-filled braid.”

“The plum cake there was always my favorite. A little bit sweet, a little bit tart.”

“So, you’ve been there?” Lizzie asked, smiling over the shared memory.

“When I had time. My trips in and out were pretty quick, but I started getting a taste for the plum cake about the same time I stepped on the plane to go there, so that was always my first stop.”

“Small world,” Lizzie said. “Almost like a fairy tale…where the Princess meets the Prince in the most improbable way, then they have battles to fight to get to each other. You know—the love-conquers-all thing, starting with a fruit Danish and plum cake.”

“And the rest of the story in your little world?” he asked. “Do they ever get to their happily-ever-after, or do they eat their cakes alone forever?”

“Let’s see…” she said. “So, their paths crossed at the bakery… His eyes met hers—love at first sight, of course. It always happens that way in a nice romantic story. But since the hero of my story was a soldier prince, their time was fleeting. Passionate, but brief. And the kisses…?”

“Were they good?”

“The best she’d ever known. But she was young, and very inexperienced. Oh, and she’d never kissed a real man before. He was her first. Her other kisses had come from boys in the village…no comparison to the kisses of a man.”

It was nice, putting herself in the place of a young village maiden. Yes, Mateo’s kisses would definitely be those of a real man. She could almost imagine how they would taste on her own lips.

“Was he her first true love?”

Lizzie nodded. “Of course he was. But, the way as many war stories end, they were separated. He was sent somewhere else and her heart was broken.”

“Badly, or would she eventually heal?”

“I don’t think you ever heal when you’ve lost the love of your life. But she went after him. She was strong that way.”

“Then true love prevailed?”

“In my story, yes.”

“And they lived happily ever after?”

“As happily-ever-after as any two lovers could with six children. A house in the country. Maybe a few dairy cows.”

“Or just a couple of children, a house on a beach in Hawaii, no cows allowed?”

“Nice dream,” she said on a sigh. “And I’d kill for a blueberry Danish right now.”

Mateo started to slide his hand across the ledge on which they were seated—not so much to hold her hand, but just to brush against it. But either she saw it coming and didn’t want it, or she was still caught up in her fairy tale, because just as he made his approach she stood, then turned toward the beach.

“We used to come here when I was a child. It’s grown up a lot. Not much tourism back then.”

“Is there any one place you call home, Lizzie?”

She shook her head. “Not really. Home was where we were or where we were going. And you?”

“A small village near Guadalajara, originally. Then wherever my mother could get work after we came to the States.”

“Is she…?”

“She’s got some health problems…can’t travel anymore. But we chat almost every day, and someone at the facility is helping her learn how to video chat.”

“Does she know about your injury?”

Mateo shook his head. “Her life was hard enough because of me. Why add to it if I don’t have to?”

“After what my dad went through with his Alzheimer’s, I think you’re doing the right thing.”

“Now, about that walk…”

He would have been good doctor. She was sure of that. And she was touched by his caring attitude toward his mother. Even toward her. This wasn’t the Mateo who refused his treatments or walled himself into his room like a recluse. This was someone entirely different. Someone she hadn’t expected but was glad she’d found.

“Well, if we go one way we’ll run into a shaved ice concession, and if we go the other way it’s The Shack.”

“And The Shack is…?”

“Fun, loud, dancing, music, watered-down drinks for the tourists… Pretty much a place I shouldn’t be taking you.”

“Which is exactly why I’m taking you.”

“Two-drink limit, Mateo. Beer, preferably. You’re not on any prohibitive meds, but…”

“I was wondering when the doctor would return.”

“The doctor never left.”

“Oh, yes, she did,” he said, smiling. “And I was the one who got to see it happen.”

It was well into the evening—“her time,” as she called it. She really needed to go home and rest. But now that he was out here, she wanted to keep him here. Because while he was here he wasn’t inside the hospital, getting into trouble. Even his good looks—which everybody noticed—weren’t enough to change their minds, and right now the mindset was not in Mateo’s favor. Presently she was too exhausted to deal with it, so this little time out was badly needed. Probably for both of them.

Lizzie took a quick appraisal, even though she knew what he looked like. But she liked his dark look. The muscles. The smooth chest. And his hands…large, but gentle—the hands of a surgeon. How would they be as the hands of a lover? she wondered, as he spotted her amongst the crowd, then came her direction.

“I saw you staring at me,” he said, as a couple of young women from the bar watched him with obvious open invitation.

Who could blame them? Lizzie thought. He was the best-looking man there.

“Not staring. Just watching to make sure you weren’t doing something that would embarrass you and cost me my job.”

“But you’re off duty.”

“And you’re still a patient of the hospital.”

“But not your patient, Lizzie. And therein lies the distinction.” He grabbed a cold beer from a passing server and handed it to Lizzie. “Do you ever allow yourself to have fun?”

“Do you ever allow yourself to not have fun?” she asked, wondering if, in his previous life, he’d been a party boy.

He held up his bottle to clink with hers, but she stepped back before that could happen.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Lizzie. Prettier than anyone else here. And you’re smart. But if I were your doctor I’d prescribe more fun in your life—because even when you’re standing in the middle of it, you can’t see it.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not my doctor, isn’t it?”

Mateo reached over and took Lizzie’s beer, then took a swig of it.

“That’s your limit,” she warned him.

“Actually, it’s one over—but who’s counting?”

Lizzie shook her head, caught between smiling and frowning. “I shouldn’t have to count. Somewhere in the manual on being adult there’s a chapter on responsibility. Maybe you should go back and re-read it.”

“You really can’t let go, can you?”

“It’s not about letting go, Mateo. It’s about all the things that are expected of me—not least of which is taking care of you, since I’m the one who brought you here.”

He reached over and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. The feel of his hand was so startling and smooth she caught herself on the verge of recoiling, but stopped when she realized it was an empty gesture. Still, the shivers his touch left behind rattled her.

“I’m not going to let anything hurt you or your reputation,” he said, his voice so low it was almost drowned out by the noise level coming from the rest of the people at The Shack. “I know how hard it is to get what you want and keep it, and I wouldn’t jeopardize that for you, Lizzie.”

This serious side of him…she hadn’t seen it before. But she knew, deep down, this was the real Mateo coming through. Not the one who refused treatment, not even the one who partied hard on the beach. Those might be different sides to his personality, but she’d just been touched by the real Mateo Sanchez, and she liked it. Maybe for the first time liked him. If only she could see more of him, now.

“I appreciate that,” she said.

She toyed with the idea of telling him that her job here might not be everything she wanted, that she was rethinking staying. But he didn’t want to hear that. It was her dilemma to solve.

“Just keep it reasonable and we’ll both be fine.”

“Everything in my life has been reasonable, Lizzie. I may not remember all about that life, but I do recall who I was in the part I remember, and I was you—always too serious, always too involved.”

“And now?” she asked.

“That is the question, isn’t it? I have so many different pieces of me rattling around my brain, and I’m not able to put them in order yet.”

And she suspected he was afraid of what he might find when he did put them into place. She understood that. Understood Mateo more now than she had.

“Sometimes they don’t always come together the way you want or expect.”

“Then I’ll have a lifetime to adjust to what I’m missing, or what got away from me. And that’s not me being pragmatic. That’s me trying to deal with me, and I’m not easy. I know that.”

He reached out and brushed her cheek, this time without the pretense of brushing back her hair. It was simply a stroke of affection or friendship. Maybe an old habit returning. And she didn’t mind so much.

Affection had never really been part of her life. Not from her dad, not from her husband. Even if this little gesture from Mateo meant nothing to him, it meant something to her. But she wouldn’t allow herself to think beyond that. What was the point? He was a man without a memory; she a woman without clear direction. It wasn’t a good combination, no matter how you looked at it.

Still, his touch gave her the shivers again.

“So, moving on to something less philosophical, you wouldn’t happen to know if I can swim, would you? I mean, being in the Army, I’m assuming I have basic skills. But enough to get me out there on one of those surfboards?”

“I could always throw you in to find out.”

“You’re not a very sympathetic doctor, Dr. Peterson.”

She laughed. “Well, you’re finally catching on.”

“What I’m catching on to is that you’re a fraud. I know there’s a side of Lizzie Peterson she doesn’t let out. That’s the side I want to see.”

“Good luck with that,” she said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Because what you see with me is what you get.”

“Under different circumstances that might not be so bad. But with what I’m going through…” Mateo shrugged. “As they say: timing is everything. Too bad that’s the way it’s working out.”

Which meant what? Was he really interested, or was this only one small aspect of Mateo that had been damaged?

“In my experience, it’s not so much about the timing as it is the luck of the draw. Things happen when they happen, and the only thing dictating that is what you’re doing in the moment. If I’m the one paddling around in the surf after I’ve been warned there’s a rip current, it should come as no surprise to me that I’m also the one who gets carried out to sea. Things happen because we make them happen—or we choose to ignore what could happen in their place.”

“Like my amnesia. It happened because… Well, if I knew the answer to that, I’d tell you. But my doc prefers I make the discovery on my own. ‘Vulnerable mind syndrome,’ he calls it. Which means my mind is open and susceptible to anything.”

“Except doing the things you’re supposed to in order to help yourself improve.”

“Claiming amnesia on that one,” he said, smiling.

“As long as you’re just claiming and not believing. And as for swimming… I don’t know. But at some point, after I return from my holiday, if you’re still here…”

“Ah, the veiled threat.”

“Not a threat. An offer to take you out and see how you do in the water.”

“That could motivate me to be on my best behavior.”

“Or you could motivate yourself. Your choice, Mateo. So, are you up for a wade?” she asked.

“Didn’t you just say something about throwing me in?”

“Maybe I did…maybe I didn’t,” she teased.

Mateo laughed, then suddenly turned serious. “What happens if the real me comes back, Lizzie—all of me—and I don’t like who I am?”

“You haven’t given yourself enough time. And maybe you underestimate yourself. Whatever the case, you’re aware of changes and that’s the first step. Always be mindful of that and you’ll be fine. I mean, we all lose track of ourselves at one time or another, with or without amnesia. I really believe you’re more in touch with who you are than you’re ready to admit. So, like I said, there’s no rush. Now, if you go in the water with me, it’s ankle-deep or nothing.”

“I could have been a Navy SEAL…which means I’m an expert swimmer.” He kicked off his flip-flops and waded out in the water with her.

“Except you were an Army surgeon, stationed in a field hospital in Afghanistan. No swimming there.”

“In my mind I was doing something more glamorous and heroic.”

“You were doing something heroic. Patching, stitching, amputating…” She took hold of his hand, even though he was in perfect physical condition, and they waded in up to their knees. “Might not have been glamorous, but you were saving lives.”

“Only some of which I remember,” he said, taking the lead and then pulling Lizzie along until they were in halfway to their hips.

They stood there together for a few minutes, simply looking out over the water. In the distance, a freighter was making its slow way across the horizon—not destined for Oahu, where they were, but perhaps one of the other islands.

Faraway places, she thought, as she reluctantly turned back toward shore. She’d spent her life in faraway places, but she’d never taken the time to notice as she’d been too young, or too involved in trying to get along in yet another new place.

A big pity, that. So many opportunities wasted. Maybe someday she’d go back and have a do-over. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d put the past behind her, find her roots, and venture out to see if a little happiness might go with that. Right now, she didn’t know what she’d do. Her life was a toss-up.

“You’re drunk,” Lizzie said, not happy about this at all. Well, maybe not downright drunk so much as a little tipsy. But it would be the same once Janis found out.

After their wade in the ocean Mateo had decided to go back and join the partiers.

“That’s why I’m taking you in the back door of Makalapua. Because if we go in the front, I’ll lose my job.”

Actually, she wouldn’t. She was the primary care physician there and that brought some clout with it. And the patients weren’t prisoners. Doing what Mateo had done, while not advisable, wasn’t illegal, and in the hospital not even punishable. His condition wasn’t physical. He was on no medications that had any bearing on the beers he’d consumed. So nothing precluded alcohol.

Lizzie recalled the evenings when her dad had been a patient here, and she’d taken him to The Shack for tropical drink. He’d loved that. When he was lucid, he’d claimed it made him feel normal. But he hadn’t been on the verge of being sent elsewhere, the way Mateo was.

Still, there was no reason for Mateo to make a spectacle of himself—which he had done after three craft beers. He’d danced. On a table. With a waitress.

She’d turned her back to order herself another lemonade, and when she’d turned around there he’d been, doing everything a head trauma patient shouldn’t do. And he’d refused to stop when she’d asked him to get off the table. It was almost like he was trying to get himself kicked out of his spot at the hospital.

It had taken two strong wahines he’e nalu—surfer women—to pull him down for her, and by that time he’d been so unsteady he hadn’t even been able to take ten steps back without zigging and zagging. And there she’d been, looking like a total idiot, trying to get the man who’d become the life of the party to quit.

Well, in another day she’d have two whole weeks to sleep, swim, and forget about her patients, her obligations…and Mateo. Except he worried her. After having such a nice chat with him… Well, she wasn’t sure what she’d hoped for, but this wasn’t it.

“Not drunk. Just pleasantly mellow. And I’ll take responsibility for my actions,” he said, slumping in the wheelchair one of The Shack patrons had run back to the hospital and retrieved for her.

“You bet you will—because what you did is way out of line and I’m not going to get myself into trouble because you can’t control yourself.”

“Meaning you’re going to report me?

“Meaning I’m going to make a note in your chart. You’re already close to the edge, Mateo, and you know that. Depending on what kind of mood Janis is in when she reads what I’m about to write, there’s a strong likelihood she’ll have you transferred. You know the policy.”

“Yeah…one month to show I’m working, eight weeks to show progress. Well, isn’t dancing progress?”

“I was trying to be nice by giving you a little time away from the hospital, but you turned it into a mess. And while dancing may show some sort of progress…on a table? With a waitress?”

“You’re sounding a little jealous, Lizzie. I’d have asked you to dance, but, well…all work, no play. You’d have turned me down.”

Yes, she would have. But was he right about her jealousy? Not over the other woman, but over taking the chance to have a little fun. She was all work, wasn’t she? Maybe all these years of no play had caught up to her and she didn’t know how to have fun. Or maybe “Daddy’s little soldier,” as he’d used to call her, had never known what fun was.

Lizzie pushed Mateo’s wheelchair up a side hall, through the corridor behind the kitchen, then through the physical therapy storage area. Finally, when they came to the hall that led to his room, Lizzie stopped, looked around, then gave his chair a shove and stood there watching him roll away while she did nothing to stop him.

It took Mateo several seconds to realize she wasn’t controlling him, and by the time he’d taken hold of the chair wheels he was sitting in the middle of the hall, too woozy to push himself past the two rooms before his.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked, managing to move himself along, but very slowly.

“That’s the same question I was asking just a little while ago,” she said, walking behind him. “Why are you putting me in this position?”

“Maybe there’s something wrong with my amygdala or even my anterior cingulate cortex. You know—the areas that affect impulse control and decision-making.”

“Your brain is fine. I’ve seen enough CTs of it to know there’s nothing wrong. The blood clot was removed successfully. No other bruising or swelling present. No tumors. No unexplained shadows. So you’ve got no physical excuse for the way you act.”

When they came to the door to his room Mateo maneuvered to turn in, didn’t make it, backed away, and tried again, this time scraping the frame as he entered.

“I wasn’t aware I was putting you in any kind of bad position,” he said, stopping short of the bed and not trying to get out of his chair.

“Seriously? You don’t work, you don’t cooperate with the nurses, you refuse to go to your cognitive therapy sessions most of the time, and when you do go you don’t stay long. You’ve recovered from a traumatic brain injury and you’re battling retrograde amnesia, Mateo, in case you’ve forgotten. Then you get drunk and dance on a table. All that puts me in a very difficult position.”

She had no idea if he was even listening to her. His eyes were staring out of the window and there was no expression on his face to tell her anything.

“Look, I like you. And I know you’re in a tough spot—you look normal, but you’re not normal enough to get back to your old life.”

“My old life?” he said finally, and his voice was starting to fill with anger. “You mean the one where I was a surgeon one minute and then, in the blink of an eye, a surgeon’s patient? Is that what you’re calling ‘a tough spot?’ And don’t tell me how I’m working my way through the five stages of grief and I’m stuck on anger, because I damn well know that. What I don’t know is what happened to me, or why, or what I was doing prior to the accident, or anything I did last year. And I’d say that’s a hell of a lot more than a tough spot.”

He shook his head, but still didn’t turn to face her.

“I’m sorry if I got you in trouble. That wasn’t my intention. Being a bad patient isn’t my intention either. But when you don’t know…” He swallowed hard. “When you don’t know who you are anymore, strange things happen in your mind. Maybe you were this…maybe you were that. Maybe you’re not even close to who you were. I have a lot of memories, Lizzie, and I’m thankful for that. But sometimes, when I’m confronted with something I should know, and it’s not there…”

“It scares you?”

“To death.”

“My dad… I lived for three years with him, watching him go through that same tough spot and never returning from it. His life was taken from him in bits and pieces until there were more gaps than memories—and he knew that. At least until he didn’t know anything anymore. He didn’t have the option of moving on, starting over in a life that, while it wasn’t his, was still a good life. There’s going to come a time when you must move on with whatever you have left and be glad you have that option. Some people don’t.”

She walked over to him, laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and gave him a squeeze.

“You’ve got to cooperate with your doctors, Mateo, instead of working against them. Right now, working against them is all you do, and I’m willing to bet that’s not the way you were before the accident.”

“I’d tell you if I knew,” he said, his voice more sad now than angry. “I’m sorry about your dad, Lizzie. He deserved better. Anyway, my head is spinning and all I want to do is sleep. But I think I’ll need some help out of the chair.”

Immediately alert, Lizzie pulled a penlight from her pocket and bent over him to look into his eyes, in case there was something else going on with him other than the beginnings of a hangover.

“Look up,” she said. “Now, down…to the right…to the left.”

When she saw nothing of note, she tucked away her light, then offered Mateo a hand to help him get up. Which he did—but too fast. He wavered for a moment, then pitched forward into Lizzie’s arms.

“Care to dance now?” he asked, not even trying to push himself away.

Admittedly, he felt good. And she could smell a faint trace of aftershave, even though he typically sported a three-day-old stubble. Had he splashed on a dash of scent for their walk?

“I think you’ve already done enough of that,” she said, guiding him to the bed.

Once he was sitting, she helped him lift his legs, then removed his flip-flops when he was stretched out on the bed.

“I’ll have one of the nurses come in and help you change into your…”

There was no point in continuing. Mateo was already out. Dead to the world. Sleeping like a baby.

And she—well…time to face Janis.

This wasn’t how this part of her day was supposed to have gone. Taking a patient out for a walk…him getting drunk…

Thank heavens she had two blissful weeks of sitting on the beach, reading, and swimming coming up. She needed the rest. Needed to be away from her responsibilities. Needed to put her own life in order in so many ways.

CHAPTER THREE

“NO, IT’S NOT your fault,” Janis said, handing Lizzie a tiki cup filled with a Hawaiian Twist—a drink made of banana, pineapple, and coconut milk. And, yes, she’d even put a paper umbrella in it—not that Lizzie needed a tiki cup, a paper umbrella, or even a Hawaiian Twist. But Janis loved to make island favorites for anybody who came to her office, and today this was the favorite.

So Lizzie took a drink and, amazingly, it made her feel a little bit better. It didn’t ease the headache, but it gave her a mental boost.

“It’s not like I haven’t taken a patient out for a walk before.”

“Well, that’s why we built the hospital here,” Janis said, sitting down in a wicker chair across from Lizzie.

They were on the lanai outside Janis’s office, as a perfect tropical breeze swept in around them.

“I know—to take advantage of the location. And the gardens. Because we want our patients to experience paradise. And I do truly believe there are curative powers in simply sitting and enjoying the view. And, in the case of some of our patients, when the memory is gone, they can still find beauty in the moment.”

“Sometimes you’re too soft,” Janis said. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing, considering most of the patients we treat, but for Mateo I’m not sure it’s a good thing. He’s a strong man, with a strong will, and right now that will isn’t working to his advantage. I think he’s trying to find his way around it. Get a foothold somewhere. Honestly, there’s something in Mateo that just isn’t clicking.”

“Do you think he’s trying to take advantage of me? Hoping I can do something for him?”

“He could be. It’s always a consideration with some of our patients.”

“Well, he seems harmless enough to me. And it’s not like anything is going to happen between us.”

“Just be careful of Mateo. I haven’t figured him out yet.”

“Nothing’s going on,” Lizzie stated. “We’ve crossed paths for weeks, and this evening I just… It was a walk, Janis. That’s all. Except for the drinking, everything was fine.”

“Everything except you gave in to your sentimental side and he used it against you. Be careful, Lizzie. I’ve seen it happen before and it never turns out well. And you’re better than that.”

Janis was right. She was better than that. But it wasn’t showing right now. Yet she wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t take another walk with Mateo if he suggested it. Why? Because he was attractive? Because when the real man shone through she liked him? Because she was in the middle of her own crisis and Mateo was a distraction?

“Why don’t you go ahead and start your holiday early? Get away from here. Forget us, forget your patients, and most of all, forget Mateo.”

“There’s no one to cover for me.”

“The locum arrives in the morning. We’ll put him straight to work while you sleep in or sip a mimosa on your lanai. However you choose to spend your days off, Lizzie, they start tomorrow. I need you back at your best and, while I have no complaints about your work, you seem so distant lately. Take the time…get it sorted.”

Forget Mateo? Easier said than done. But with any luck, and two weeks of rest ahead of her, she’d get much more sorted than Mateo. Her dad. Her life. Putting things into perspective.

Now, that was something she was looking forward to.

In her life she worked, she slept, and every Saturday morning she went surfing, if conditions were right. That was it. All of it. And even though she owned her house she’d never really settled in, because she had been so up in the air about her dad.

Was this the place for him? Did he have the best caregiver? Did he need more? Should she enroll him in a day program a few times a week even though he wouldn’t have a clue what it was about?

She’d taken care of her dad for five years before he died, and all her energies outside work had been devoted to him.

Of course, she’d been contacted about great facilities all over the country that would have taken him in and made his last days meaningful. But what would have been “meaningful” to him? Her voice? The familiarity of his old trinkets and clothes? The chicken and rice she’d fixed him every Saturday night that he’d seemed to enjoy, when his enjoyment of other foods had gone away?

He’d had so little left, and there had been nothing any of these facilities could have done to make him better, so why deprive him of things he might remember?

Which was why she was here. He’d always wanted to retire to Hawaii and spend his days sitting on the beach, or planting flowers. That was what she’d given him when they’d moved here…the last thing she could recall that he’d ever asked for.

Now, here she still was, not sure whether to stay and live with the memories or go and start over someplace else. She really didn’t have a life here. All her time had been taken up by work or her dad. Then, after he’d died, she’d filled in the empty hours with more work. Now it was all she could see for herself, and she wasn’t sure she liked what she saw.

So maybe it was finally time to settle down, turn her house into a home, and start working on some of those plans she’d made when she’d moved here.

“I’ll call you in a few days and let you know how it’s going,” she said to Janis as she headed out the door. “And maybe I’ll have a party. A vegetarian luau.”

“With lots of rum punch, since they won’t be getting roast pig?”

Lizzie laughed. “Sounds like a plan. And if you get swamped, let me know. I’ll come back.”

“I know you will—which is why I’m going to ban you from the hospital until you’re back to work full-time. Understand?”

Janis could be hard. In her position she had to be. But, as her former med school professor, and now her friend, she was the best. In fact, she’d been the one who’d offered to take her dad, when his Alzheimer’s had been on the verge of becoming unmanageable at home. She’d even come to the mainland to help her make the move.

“Then how about we meet up at The Shack every few days and you can tell me all the gossip?” Lizzie suggested.

“Or maybe you could hang around there by yourself…meet a man…preferably a nice blond surf bum. How long’s it been since…?”

“Too long,” Lizzie said. “For anything. No details necessary.”

“Then definitely find yourself a surf bum. A nice one with an older brother for me.”

Lizzie was thirty-four, and Janis had twenty years on her, but with her blonde hair, and her teeny-bikini-worthy body, Janis was the one the men looked at while Lizzie was hiding in the shadows, taking mental notes on how to be outgoing.

“I thought you liked them younger these days?” Lizzie teased.

“I like them any way I can have them.” She smiled at Lizzie. “Seriously, take care of yourself. And keep in touch.”

“OK and OK,” she said, then waved backward as she walked away, intending to head back to her office, tidy up, then leave.

But before she got there she took a detour and headed down the wrong hall. Or the right one, if her destination was Mateo’s room. Which, this evening, it was.

“Well, the good news is I get to start my holiday early,” she said to Matteo, who was sitting in a chair next to the window, simply looking out over the evening shadows of the garden, and not sound asleep in bed, as she’d expected. “So, this is me telling you goodbye and good luck.”

“What? No more dates at The Shack?”

“First one was a total bust. With me it’s one strike and you’re out.”

“But you haven’t seen the real me. When that Mateo Sanchez emerges, do I get another chance?”

Lizzie laughed. “I’m betting you were a real charmer with the ladies. One look into those dark eyes and…”

“Do you like my eyes?” he interrupted.

She did—more than she should—and she’d almost slipped up there.

“Eyes are eyes. They’re nice to use to get a clear picture of when you’re being played.”

“I’m not playing you, Lizzie.”

“It doesn’t matter if you are or you aren’t. I’m off on holiday now, and once I’m outside the hospital door everything here will be forgotten for two whole weeks.”

“Including me, Lizzie?”

“Especially you, Mateo. So, if you’re not here when I return…have a good life.”

He stood, then crossed the room to her before she could get out the door. He pulled her into his arms. He nudged her chin up with his thumb and simply stared into her eyes for a moment. But then sense and logic overtook him and he broke his hold on her and stepped away.

“We can’t do this,” he whispered. “I want to so badly, but I never should have started this, and I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” she said, backing all the way out through the door, and trying to walk to the hospital exit without showing off her wobbly knees.

Whatever had just happened couldn’t happen again. She wasn’t ready. Her life was in a mess. But it was one more thing to be sorted in her time off.

Was she really beginning to develop feelings for Mateo?

Or was Janis right?

Was he looking for a foothold? Someone to use?

Was he playing her?

She didn’t want to believe that, but the thought was there. And so was the idea that she had to shore up her reserves to resist him, because he wasn’t going to make it easy.

He wasn’t sure what to think. Didn’t even know if he cared. Still, what he’d done was stupid. Going against hospital policy. Drinking a little too much, dancing to prove…well, he wasn’t sure what he had been trying to prove.

Had he been the doctor of a patient like himself he’d have taken it much worse than Janis and Randy had. In fact, all things considered, they’d been very calm. Or was it the calm before the storm?

Lizzie wasn’t here to defend him now, and he missed her. Not just because she’d seemed to take his side, but because he genuinely liked her. Maybe even missed her already. Right now, he didn’t have any friends, and she’d turned out to be not only a friend but someone he trusted.

Except she wasn’t in the picture now. He was on his own and trying to figure out what would come next in his life.

“None of this is what I planned,” he said aloud to himself as he looked out the window.

Five years in the military, then find a good surgical practice somewhere in a mountainous area. Or maybe near canyons or desert. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d wanted, to be honest, but those were the areas that were tugging on his mind, so maybe that was what he’d wanted pre-amnesia. Not that it mattered now.

“You haven’t been to your cognitive therapy group,” Randy Jenkins said from the doorway.

He was a short man with thick glasses, who wore dress pants and a blue shirt, a tie and a white lab coat. He didn’t look like he’d seen the inside of a smile in a decade.

“Haven’t even left your room. You’re way past the point where your meals should be served to you on a tray in your room. But you’re refusing to come to the dining room.”

Because he didn’t want to. Because nothing here was helping him. Because he wanted his old life back, whatever that was, and he was pretty sure it didn’t involve sitting in a group with nine other memory loss patients talking about things they didn’t remember.

“And what, exactly, will those prescribed things do for me?” he asked, turning to face the man.

“Give you a sense of where you are now, since you can’t go back to where you were before.”

“Where I am now is looking out a window at a life that isn’t mine.”

“Do you want to get better, Doctor?”

Mateo shook his head angrily. “What I want is what I can’t have. And that’s something you can’t fix.”

“But there are other things you can do besides be a surgeon.”

“And how do you think I should address the obvious in my curriculum vitae? Unemployed surgeon with amnesia looking for work?”

It wasn’t Randy’s fault. He knew that. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. But he was so empty right now. Empty, and afraid to face the future without all his memories of the past.

“Look, sit in on a therapy session this afternoon. Then come for your private session with me. I’ll have my assistant look for some training programs that might interest you and—”

“Training programs? Don’t you understand? I’m a surgeon.”

“No, you’re not. Not anymore. I’ve had to report you to the medical licensing board and—”

“You couldn’t have waited until we were a little farther along in this?”

“You’re not in this, Mateo. And that’s the problem. Your license as a surgeon will be provisionally suspended, pending review and recommendations if and when you recover. I had to do it or risk my own medical license.”

He’d worked so hard to get that. Spent years and more money than he’d had. Even if he couldn’t operate, at least he had the license that proved he’d achieved his lifelong goal. He’d been somebody. But now he didn’t even have that.

“I guess we all do what we have to do, don’t we?” he said.

“It’s nothing personal. And, for what it’s worth, you’ll probably still have your general license to practice, because at the end of all this there’s every likelihood you’ll be able to find a place in medicine, somewhere. But you’ve got to cooperate now.”

But if he cooperated that meant all this was real. And he wasn’t ready for that yet. Which was why he fought so hard against everything. Once he admitted it was real, he was done. Over. Nothing to hope for. Nothing left to hold on to. Not even that thin scrap of resistance.

Two days had gone by and she was already feeling better. She’d boxed up a few of her dad’s belongings, which she’d been putting off for too long. Read a book on the history of Kamehameha, which had been sitting dusty on her shelf for two years. Done a bit of surfing and swimming.

Even just two days had done her a world of good, and as she headed off to the little stretch of beach at the front of her house, a guava and passionfruit drink in her hand, she was looking forward to more relaxation, more time to figure out if she should stay here or go somewhere else and start over.

Her plan had always been to go back home to upstate New York, but little by little this tiny patch of land she owned on Oahu had drawn her in. Her house was all glass on the side with the ocean view. It was large, but not too large…comfortable. Her dad had planted flowers that still bloomed in the garden and would for years to come, and the thought of leaving those brought a lump to her throat because he’d loved them so much in the last good days of his memory.

Her job… Well, that was one of those things she needed to rethink. It was good, but she wasn’t sure it was where she belonged. She liked working there, loved working with Janis, but the whole fit seemed…off. Maybe because her dad was gone now. Maybe because she was alone. Or maybe those thoughts were simply her fatigue taking over. And, since she wasn’t one to make rash decisions, she was going to let the job situation ride. Work through to the end of her contract, then see how she was feeling.

Stretching out on a lounger, Lizzie sat her drink on a little table topped with a mosaic of beach shells that her dad had collected and let her gaze drift to the waves lapping her small beach. She owned a beach. An honest-to-goodness beach. Even the sound of it impressed her a little, when very little else did these days.

“It’s a nice view,” came a familiar voice from behind her.

“How did you know where to find me?” she asked, turning to see Mateo standing just a few feet away with a duffle bag slung casually over his shoulder.

“Went to The Shack. Asked. They knew you and pointed me in the right direction.”

“So, I’m assuming that since you’ve got your duffel you’re no longer a patient?”

“Randy Jenkins made the recommendation this morning that I be transferred and your friend Janis dropped the axe.” He shrugged. “So here I am.”

“Then you’re on your way to another facility?”

Mateo shook his head. “My transfer is back to California, where I was before I came here. It didn’t do me any good then, and nothing’s changed so it’s not going to do me any good now.”

This wasn’t good. Too many soldiers returned home with PTSD and other problems and ended up on the street. Suddenly, she feared that for Mateo.

“What are your plans?” she asked, not sure she wanted to hear them.

“Don’t have any. When they said they’d arrange a transfer in a couple of days I arranged my own.”

“Meaning you’re homeless? Or do you have a home somewhere?”

She didn’t want to get involved. Shouldn’t get involved. But he didn’t deserve this, and it wasn’t his fault that he’d lost the life he’d known.

“No home. Sold it when I went into the Army and used the proceeds to buy a house for my mother. It’s in Mexico, and I’m not a citizen there. To get my veterans’ medical benefits I have to live in the States. Meaning until I leave Hawaii I’m a beach bum. But before I take off to…let’s call it to ‘discover myself,’ I wanted to thank you for being so kind to me and trying to help. I appreciate your efforts, Dr. Elizabeth Peterson, even if they were wasted.”

“And what now? You walk off into the sunset? Because that’s not where you’re going to find yourself, Mateo.”

He shrugged. “Do you really think I’ll find myself if I’m admitted to an eight-bed ward and assigned to therapy to which I won’t go, until I’m deemed so uncooperative they put me away in a home, give me drugs, and let me spend the rest of my life shuffling through the halls wearing bedroom slippers and existing in some kind of a stupor?”

“It’s not that bad,” she argued, even though she knew that in some cases it could be.

But for Mateo…she didn’t know. He wanted something he wouldn’t get back and he was stuck in the whole denial process. For how long, she had no clue. She was a personal care physician, not a psychiatrist.

“Could you go stay with your mother for a while?”

“I could, but she still doesn’t know what happened to me and I’d rather keep it that way as long as I can.”

“Well, I admire the reason, but how long do you intend on keeping up the charade?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. Haven’t thought it through that far, yet.”

Everything inside Lizzie was screaming not to get involved, that Mateo wasn’t her problem. But she felt involvement creeping up, pulling her toward the edge.

She thought of that day her dad had wandered off, just a year ago. If only someone had found him in time… And while Mateo wasn’t at all in the same condition there could be just as many bad consequences for him as well. So, swallowing hard as she pushed aside all the reasons why she shouldn’t do it, she did it anyway.

“Look, there’s an ohana unit on the other side of the house. It’s small, but no one’s using it, and you’re welcome to stay there a couple of days until you get things sorted.”

“This is where me and my bad attitude would usually take offense or say something to make you angry or hurt your feelings, but I’m not going to do that. I didn’t come here looking for help, but I’m grateful you’re offering. So, yes, I’d appreciate staying in your ohana. Because I don’t want to be out there wandering alone, trying to find something I might not even recognize. I don’t like being this way, Lizzie. Don’t like being uncooperative…don’t like hearing half the things I’m saying. But if I do get to be too much for you to handle, kick me out. You deserve better than what I know I’m capable of doing.”

“I don’t suppose you can cook?” she asked.

He chuckled. “No clue. But if you’re willing to take a chance with an amnesiac surgeon in your kitchen…”

For the past two days there had been nothing incoming, meaning nothing outgoing either. No imposed time limit on life or death. One less death to record, one less chopped-up body to send back was always good.

Passing the time playing cards with his best buddy Freddy wasn’t necessarily what he wanted to be doing, but there wasn’t anything else. And it was always interesting to see the many ways Freddy cheated at cards. Some Mateo caught. Many he did not. He could see it—Freddy palming one card and trading it for another.

“Cheat,” he accused his friend. All in fun, though.

“Prove it,” Freddy always said. “Prove it, and when we get back I’ll buy you the best steak dinner you’ll ever eat.”

Problem was Mateo couldn’t prove it. Freddy was just as slick in his card-playing skills as he was at being a medic. The plan was that after they returned home Freddy would finish medical school and eventually end up as Mateo’s partner.

But tonight, there was no plan, and Freddy was pacing the hall the way he did when he got notice that someone was on their way in. In those tense minutes just before everything changed. Activity doubled. The less injured soldiers stepped aside for the more injured.

Sometimes they lined up in tribute, saluting as the medical team rushed through the door, pushing a gurney carrying the latest casualty.

“Stop it!” Mateo shouted at his friend. “Don’t do that! Because if you do they’ll come. Stop it. Do you hear me? Stop it!”

But Freddy kept on pacing, waiting…

No, not tonight. Mateo wanted to make it three nights in a row without a casualty.

“One more night. Just one more night…”

Outside in the back garden, on her way to take fresh towels and linens to the ohana, Lizzie stood quietly at his door, listening. He’d excused himself to take a nap while she’d stayed on the beach to read. Now this.

It hadn’t happened in the rehab center, but something here was triggering it. Perhaps getting close to someone again? Close to her?

She thought about going in and waking him up. Then decided against it. If he was working out his demons in his sleep, he needed to. Besides, he was here as a friend, not a patient, and she had to take off her doctor persona or this would never work.

But it worried her. Because she knew the end of the story. Mateo’s best friend had been killed in the raid that had injured him. Mateo had been pulled from the carnage and taken to the hospital, resisting help because he’d wanted to go back to save his friend. Except his best friend couldn’t be saved.

While she wasn’t a neurologist, she wondered if some deep, buried grief over that was contributing to his condition. Certainly the head injury was. But not being able to save his friend…? She understood that profoundly. Because in the end she hadn’t been able to save her father. It was a guilt that consumed her every day.

“Sleep well?” she asked, watching Mateo come through the door. Cargo shorts, T-shirt, mussed hair. She liked dark hair. Actually, she had never really thought about what she liked in terms of the physical aspects of a man, but she knew she liked the physical aspects of Mateo. Strong, muscled…

“Bed’s comfortable, but I don’t feel rested. Guess I’ve got more sleep to catch up on than I thought.”

Sleep without nightmares, she thought.

“Well, the folks at Makalapua weren’t happy to find out where you are. Apparently, you got out of their transportation at the end of the circular drive, when the driver stopped to enter the main road, and then disappeared.”

“Transportation? Is that what they call it?”

“Makalapua owns a limo for transporting patients and families when necessary.”

“And it also owns an ambulance, Lizzie. That was my transportation. Ordered by my doctor. They came in with a gurney, strapped me down to it, and shoved me in the back of the ambulance. I was leaving as a patient. Not a guest. And I’m tired of being a patient.”

Lizzie sat down on the rattan armchair in her living room and gripped the armrests. “An ambulance? I don’t believe—”

“I may have amnesia,” he interrupted, “but I still remember what a gurney and an ambulance are. Oh, and in case you didn’t hear, I was to be escorted straight onto a military medical plane and met at the airport in California—probably with a gurney and an ambulance there, too.”

“Did you get violent? Is that why they did it?”

“Mad as hell, but not violent.” He sat down on the two-cushion sofa across from her but kept to the edge of it. “I’m guessing a couple of them are mad as hell right now.”

“They only want to help you, Mateo.”

They only want to help you.

We only want to help you.

I only want to help you.

Words she’d said over and over for years. Before, they’d sounded perfectly fine. Now, they sounded deceitful.

“Well, restraining me rather than giving me a sedative was preferable, but they were sending me to the place I specifically asked not to be sent.”

“You’re still Army, Mateo. On inactive duty. That means your commanders make the call and—”

“It’s out of my hands.” He shook his head in frustration. “I’m theirs until they cut me loose.”

“Something like that. And you knew that’s how it would be when you went in. When the military and veterans’ hospitals didn’t work for you, you were given a chance to recover outside the normal system. So, from what I’m seeing, they really were trying to help.”

And now he was in no system but, instead in her ohana.

“Look, let me see if I can work something out with Janis. Maybe we can get you transferred somewhere else. Maybe another private hospital.”

“Or maybe I should just go grab my things and wander on down the beach. The weather’s nice. A lot of people move from their homes to the beaches during the hottest weather. Maybe someone will take pity on me and give me a meal every now and then.”

“You’re not going to live on the beach, Mateo. And I’m not sending you off on some journey to search for something you might not even remember when you find it.”

Visions of her dad getting out and wandering around alone were the essence of her nightmares. And she’d even had a live-in caregiver who hadn’t always been able to keep track of him.

“So for now you stay here, and we’ll see what we can figure out.”

“But the military…they know where I am?” he asked.

“Of course they do. I called them because you’re not free of your obligation and they had to know. Like I’ve told you before, I play by the rules. But they’re not going to come and take you away from here, Mateo. At least not yet. All they wanted was to know where you were and what you were doing. I told them you were going into outpatient care in a few days.”

“That’s what you think I’m going to do?”

“That’s what I know you’re going to do if you want to stay here. Janis approved it and, for the record, it’s your last chance. After this the Army takes you back, and they’ll be the only ones with a say in what happens.”

Finally, he relaxed back into the sofa. “These last weeks it’s like someone’s always doing something to me, and most of the time not even consulting me before they do it. You’re the first one who’s ever told me beforehand what would happen, and I appreciate that.”

“So…you mentioned your mother doesn’t know about your current condition? Why is that? Is there some way she could take over medical responsibility for you until you’re through this?”

He shook his head adamantly. “She has advanced diabetes. Arthritis. Partially blind. The less she knows, the better off she is. Like I said before, I do call her every day, and as soon as I’m free to travel I’ll go to see her. But I don’t want the stress of knowing what I’m going through anywhere near her. She deserves a better life than she’s ever had before and I’m not going to deprive her of that.”

“Which makes you a very good son.”

She recalled how, in her dad’s decline, she’d tried to keep so many things away from him—things that would cause him stress. So she certainly understood what Mateo was doing, and even admired him for that. It wasn’t easy. She knew that.

“I remember when my mother became a citizen in the US. She’d studied for weeks, worked hard to learn the history, the language, and I think the day she was sworn in was one of the proudest days of her life. Making a new life isn’t easy, and she did it for me.”

“And you?”

“I was too young to realize all the sacrifices she was making to give me a better life. I don’t think I appreciated it the way I should. And my mother… I don’t want her worrying about me. It’s the least I can do. And she’s happy back in Mexico, living near her sister, proud of her son the…the doctor.” He nearly choked on the words.

She thought about the life her dad had made for her. That had never been easy either, but it had always been good. And he’d put aside many opportunities because he’d chosen to be a father first.

“Anyway, what’s next, Mateo? What do you want to happen or expect to happen?”

He chuckled, but bitterly. “Look, Lizzie. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m sure that’s obvious. But I’m not going to impose, and I’m not going to expect you to be my doctor while I’m here.”

“Like I could be your doctor,” she said. “That would require ethical considerations I don’t want to think about. Doctor brings patient home for special treatment? Nope, not me. I can be your friend, even a medical colleague, but not your doctor. So, my friend, I want to take a walk down to The Shack and ask them why they thought it was appropriate to tell someone where I live.”

“Then what?” he asked.

“Then guilt them into free shrimp burgers. They’re so good. But no beer. And no dancing on the table.”

“In my defense, it was only a couple feet off the ground.”

“You have no defense, Mateo. Absolutely none. And if I catch you up on a table, and I don’t care how high it is…” She pointed to the chaise on the lanai. “That’s as far as you’ll go. I might toss you a pillow and a plate of food every now and then, but if you dance on a table I’m done.”

Mateo laughed. “You know, from the first moment I saw you walk by my hospital room I knew you were a real softie. Your threats don’t scare me, Lizzie. You haven’t got it in you to make me sleep out there.”

Unfortunately, that was true. Something about Mateo caused her usual resolve to simply melt away.

It wasn’t like him to think only in the moment. At least, he didn’t think it was like him. He’d looked at his calendar and seen that he’d made notes about plans well into the future. Some things still months away. That was certainly a personality trait he didn’t remember—especially now, when he was basically on the edge of living rough and not particularly worried about it.

Was that because he knew he could count on Lizzie as his backup?

Mateo looked at his half-eaten shrimp burger and wondered if he even liked shrimp. Had he been allergic his throat would have swollen shut by now. He might even be dead. But he wasn’t, and his throat was fine.

Subconsciously, he raised his hand to his throat and rubbed it.

“You OK?” Lizzie asked him.

She was sitting across from him at a high-top for two, looking like an Irish lassie who simply fitted in here. Red hair wild. Brown eyes sparkling with gold flecks that were highlighted by the glow of the citronella candle on their table. The brightest, widest smile he’d ever seen.

“Just wondering if I have allergies.”

“According to your military records, you don’t.”

“You really know more about me than I know about myself, don’t you?” he asked. Realizing she had access to his life while he didn’t felt strange.

“You do understand why I don’t just tell you everything I know, don’t you?”

“So you won’t fill my impressionable mind with fake notions of who I am. I know it would be easy…false memories and all that. But sitting here with a stranger who knows me inside and out, while only a couple of hours ago I was homeless without a plan is…disconcerting.”

Lizzie reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I’ll bet it is. But if you ever settle down you’ll work through some of it. Maybe even more than you expect.”

He studied her hand for a moment—porcelain-smooth skin, a little on the pale side compared to most of the people at The Shack. Nice hand. Gentle.

“Now that you’re not restricted by any kind of medical ethics with me, tell me how much I can expect to return. Or how much will never return. Can you do that much for me?”

She pulled her hand back. “There’s no formula for that, Mateo. No way to predict. I’d like to be able to give you a definitive answer, but the brain can’t be predicted. You may be where you’re always going to be now, or you may improve. Losing pieces of yourself—or, as I call it, living in a fog—has got to be difficult. I see it, and I understand it, but I can’t relate to it.”

He smiled. “Wish I couldn’t relate to it either. Look, I appreciate you taking me in for a couple of days. I really do need some time to figure out what comes next. But you’re not responsible for me, Lizzie. Just be patient for a little while, and on my end of it I promise no more dancing on the table or anything else. I’ll be cooperative. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

He meant it, too. It was time to figure out his life, and it was nice having a friend on his side to help him. A friend who was patient and caring the way Lizzie was.

“Why didn’t you do that at the hospital?”

“Four walls, a bed, and a window to the world. That’s all it was, and it scared me, Lizzie. Still does when I think that’s all my life might be about.”

“So you refuse traditional help, do everything you can to distance yourself from it, in order to—what? I want to know, Mateo. If I hadn’t lived within walking distance of the hospital, or if a couple of the people who work here hadn’t known where I live, what would you have done? Because so far all you’ve done is walk away. From Germany, from the veterans’ facility in Boston, then in California, and from the hospital here. From—”

She shut up and took a bite of her burger.

“From everything, Mateo,” she said, once she’d swallowed. “And it all adds up to you walking away from yourself.”

“You were going to say fiancée, weren’t you?”

“You remember her?”

“Vaguely. Must have been a short relationship, because she didn’t leave much behind in my head. Except, maybe… She didn’t want to live with someone in my condition, did she?”

“Actually, I don’t know the whole story. It was in your chart, but since you weren’t my patient I didn’t read it. The only things I know about you are what I heard at the weekly patient review meetings.”

“That’s right. By the book, Lizzie.”

“You think that’s a problem?”

“I think in today’s medical world it’s an asset. There are too many people getting involved in aspects of a patient’s care who shouldn’t.”

Suddenly he could feel the tiredness coming on. And the headache. Dull to blinding in sixty seconds. So, rather than pursuing this conversation, he stood abruptly, tossed a few dollars on the table—enough to cover both meals and a tip—then walked away. He wanted to get out of there before the full force of the headache made him queasy, caused him to stagger.

Once away from The Shack, Mateo headed toward the beach, then sat down on the sand, shut his eyes, and tried to clear his head.

Right now, he didn’t care about what Lizzie was holding back. All he cared about was the pain level rising in him and how to control it.

And that didn’t come easy these days. Not easy at all.

She wasn’t going to interrupt him, sitting alone out there on the sand. Mateo was entitled to his moods and his mood swings and it wasn’t her place to hover over him. If he needed her help, he’d ask. Or not.

It was almost an hour later when he returned to the house. When she looked in Mateo’s eyes she saw how lost he was, but she also saw the depth of the man. He was in there—just locked away.

“Look, I’m going out for a night swim, then I’m going to sit on the lanai for a while to relax. You’re welcome to come, or you’re welcome to stay here and read a book, watch a movie—whatever you want to do.”

“You don’t have to feel responsible for me, Lizzie. I can take care of myself.”

“I was just being polite. You look tired, and I thought a swim might make you feel better.”

He looked more than tired. He looked weary. Beaten down. He looked like a man who was fighting with everything he had to get back on the right path. It worried her, even though she had no right to be worried. Still, she couldn’t help herself. There was something about Mateo that simply pulled at her.

“And I was just being honest. I don’t want you disrupting your life for me.”

She smiled. “To be honest, I hadn’t intended on doing that. I just thought it would be a nice way to end the evening.”

With that she went upstairs, changed into her swimsuit—a modest one-piece, black, no frills, nothing revealing—and went straight to the beach alone, leaving Mateo watching some blathering documentary on her TV.

Too bad, she thought as she dipped her toe in the surf. He might have enjoyed this. And she might have enjoyed doing this with him.

She was stunning, even though she was trying to hide it in that swimsuit. But her kind of beauty couldn’t be hidden. Not the outside beauty, and not the inside beauty.

This was a huge imposition, him living in her home. He knew that. But so much of him wanted to get to know her and, while ending up here really hadn’t been his intention, when good fortune had smiled on him he hadn’t had it in him to turn his back on it.

He moved along the beach from where Lizzie had entered the water. He wanted to join her, but he didn’t want to impose. Yet he’d wandered down here, not sure what he was hoping for. Another invitation? Perhaps nothing?

In all honesty he had no right to think anything or want anything, in his condition. But watching Lizzie… It gave him hope he hadn’t felt before. Maybe something in him would change. Or something would reset and at least allow him to look forward.

Unfortunately, Lizzie coming into his life now was too soon. He could see himself with her, but not yet.

Sighing, Mateo shut his eyes. All he could see was Lizzie. Her face. The way she looked at him. Sadness. Compassion. She had the power to change a man. The power to change him. And maybe that was good. He didn’t know, but it felt right. Felt like he was ready.

She’d been on his mind constantly, and he’d thought of little else other than Lizzie from that first moment in the hospital, when she’d walked into his room, sat down in the chair opposite him and hadn’t said a word. Not one single word. She had smiled as she’d watched him, but she hadn’t talked, and it had got to the point that it had been so distracting, even annoying, that he’d been the one to break the silence.

“Why are you doing that?” he’d asked her.

“Sometimes you learn more from observing than talking,” she’d told him.

“And what did you learn from observing me?” he’d asked.

“That you’re not going to be easy for your doctors.”

Mateo chuckled. Prophetic words. He hadn’t been. Still wasn’t. And she’d known that simply by observing him.

“There’s a shorter way back to the house,” Lizzie said, sitting down beside him on the rock where he’d been sitting for the past half hour.

“I didn’t hear you coming.” He scooted over to give her room.

“But I saw you sitting here. I used to sit here back when my dad was getting bad. I was looking for answers, and even though there were none I always went away with a sense of calm. Back then, calm was good.”

“This whole area is nice. Not sure I found any calm here, but the view is amazing.” He slid his hand across the rock until it was just skimming hers. “The only places I’ve ever lived were congested…loud.”

“Sounds like a tough way to live life,” Lizzie commented.

“There are a lot of tough ways to live life, Lizzie. Some we choose, some we don’t.” He stood. “Anyway, it’s been a long, unexpected day, and I’m ready to see if I can get some more sleep. So…” He looked at her, then shrugged. “Care to have me walk you home?”

Lizzie smiled, then stood and took his arm. “I always did love a gallant man. Just never knew they existed outside of fairy-tale books.”

“Well, consider me a poor and humble prince who’s at your beck and call.” He gave her a low-sweeping bow then extended his arm to her.

“Poor?” she asked, as they made their way along the path. “I saw your financials when you were admitted. You’re not wealthy, but you’re certainly not poor.”

“Then maybe poor of spirit?”

Lizzie laughed. “Somehow I doubt that. I think you’re a man with an abundance of spirit. It’s just that your spirit is in hiding right now.”

Mateo was testing her like he’d done in the hospital with everyone else he’d encountered. It was the same, but different, because now he was living in the real world, which called for real coping skills instead of avoidance.

He’d get the hang of it. She was sure of that. But what he wouldn’t get the hang of was using her as his enabler. Once she’d enabled her dad too much for too long. In doing that she’d denied the obvious—that the next corner he turned would be worse than the one before. And the one after that worse again.

Well, not with Mateo. He was testing new legs, so to speak. Taking new steps. Learning new things to fill in the gaps. As much as she wanted to make it her battle, it wasn’t. For Mateo to get better, find his new direction, he had to take those steps by himself, fight his way through to something that fit.

She could be on the sidelines, watching, maybe holding out a supporting hand. But it was his destiny to control. She had to keep telling herself that. His destiny, not hers.

But it wasn’t easy walking into her house by herself, going up the steps to bed alone. No, none of it was easy. In the morning, though, depending on what Mateo did or didn’t do tonight, she’d decide what she would do. Or would not do.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SMELL WAS HEAVENLY. Coffee and… Was something baking? Lizzie wanted to bask in bed a while longer, simply to enjoy the rich variety of aromas drifting up to her, and she could do that. Nothing was stopping her. She was on holiday, after all. She could bask, lounge, sleep, do anything she wanted.

But the clock on her phone showed it was just a few minutes until eleven, which meant she’d spent most of the morning doing that already. It was amazing how good it felt—especially with her bad sleeping habits. Never more than an hour or two at a time. Sometimes missing sleep altogether for a day or more.

Also, she wanted to see Mateo. No particular reason. She simply wanted to see him and ask what he planned for the day.

So a quick shower and Lizzie was on her way downstairs, where he was waiting for her at the bottom, holding out a coffee mug.

“There was no cream, and you don’t strike me as the type who’d go in for gratuitous sugar, so it’s black. But I did find a papaya tree outside and I picked a ripe one, juiced it, and added a bit to your coffee.”

“You remember what a papaya is?” She was not only pleased, she was surprised.

“My mother used to make them into a salsa to use on fish tacos. And papaya cake. That was the best.”

“I’ll bet it was,” she said, taking a sip and letting it glide down her throat. “What else can you cook?”

He smiled. “Well, those fish tacos I just mentioned. Although I try to eat on the healthy side. Tacos, enchiladas, tamales, burritos…they might be food for the gods, but when you work out every day the way I used to do they’re also food for the waistline, and it’s never been my desire to see mine grow.” He patted his belly. “So far, so good. Oh, and I baked muffins, if you’re interested. Healthy ones. No sugar, no butter.”

“Then you really are a cook.”

“Let’s just say that I’m pretty sure I know my way around a kitchen. Not sure about anything gourmet, but the muffins were easy enough and the coffee was self-defense. One of the nurses in Afghanistan made coffee and it was horrible. I’d been there three days when I decided to take it over myself. Either that or no coffee, because it was eating away my stomach lining.”

Lizzie laughed. “Was she that bad or were you just that gullible?”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “I may have known the answer to that at one time. But, since I don’t now, I’d like to say she was bad and leave it at that.”

Did he know how much he’d just revealed to her? It had come so easily now, after she’d spent so much time asking him questions he wouldn’t or couldn’t answer. Then suddenly…this. She wasn’t going to get too excited, but she did hope it was a step forward. Hoped in a non-medical way, of course.

“So, what’s on your agenda for today?’ she asked, fully expecting him to draw a blank on that.

But the bright look coming over his face told her otherwise.

“Clothes. What I have on…that’s it. Hand-me-downs left behind at the hospital. And shoes.”

“Then we go shopping,” she said, smiling.

He chuckled. “I think I’m one of those men who hates shopping.”

“Amnesia doesn’t cut it with me, Mateo. You need clothes—we get you clothes. And I love to shop, so prepare yourself. I could turn this into an all-day outing.”

Mateo moaned. “My mother loves shopping and when I was young, I was forced to walk behind her, carrying her handbag. It was humiliating, especially to a little boy who was bullied and called a mama’s boy, but it worked out because I worked out and got strong, which scared away the bullies.” He smiled. “I wasn’t really a fighter, but nobody ever knew that.”

“Well, I won’t ask you to carry my handbag unless you really want to.”

Mateo moaned again. “Can’t we just do it online?”

“What? And miss the fun of it?” Lizzie took another sip of the coffee and arched her eyebrows in surprise. “This is really good. I’m glad you remembered, because you can make it every morning you’re here.”

“Actually, I didn’t remember the coffee. I remembered my mom and her love of everything papaya. This was just a lucky guess.”

“So, Dr. Mateo Sanchez, skilled general surgeon…”

“Former general surgeon.”

“I’ll get on to that later. Maybe ask Janis to sit down hard on Dr. Jenkins and come up with a better treatment plan for you. Anyway, surgeon, chef, devoted son…what else?

“Not much technology sense.”

“With the technology sense of a nene.”

“What’s a nene?” he asked.

“A goose.”

She didn’t know if a few memories really were slipping back or if these were things he’d simply kept to himself. Maybe to maintain some control? But she wasn’t a shrink and, whatever the case was, she wouldn’t ask.

“The official Hawaiian bird, actually.”

“Seriously, with all the pretty little colorful birds everywhere, Hawaii chose a goose?”

She turned and strolled out to the lanai, where one of those “colorful birds”—a beautiful yellow-green amakihi—was sipping nectar from one of the nectar stations her dad had built. He’d had such a way with the birds, and with flowers. It was all still there—the colors, the care he’d taken… It was the first thing she went to look at every single morning of her life.

“The goose is a worthy bird,” she said, stepping away from where the amakihi was feeding, so as not to disturb it. “They’ve been here half a million years, and they don’t damage their habitat, so they’ve earned their place.” She studied the muffin he was holding out for her. “I’m assuming papaya?”

“I was taught to take advantage of what you’re given and be grateful for it.”

“As long as you didn’t climb the tree to get it, I’m good. But if you did…”

Mateo chuckled. “It was on the ground. Trust me. I may not remember a lot of things, but I do remember that head injuries and climbing up papaya trees don’t mix. So, about my clothes…”

The headache wasn’t bad, but it was too early to feel this tired. All he wanted to do was sit out on the lanai and doze, even though he’d been the one to suggest clothes-shopping. Too much, too soon. Making the coffee hadn’t been bad, but baking the muffins had done him in.

He had to show her he was better, because if he didn’t she’d pack him off to a hospital somewhere. There was nothing in him that wanted to go. In fact, even though he’d worked in a hospital, being turned into a hospital patient filled him with a fear that, when he thought about it, nearly paralyzed him.

He wanted to know why, but the answer didn’t come to him when he tried to find that piece of himself. In fact, the more he visualized himself as a patient, the more he sweated and came close to an anxiety attack.

There were so many mysteries to his life still locked away that when he let it happen the frustration of it all led to a bad temper. But bad temper didn’t solve his problems. So why go there? Why not detour around that roadblock? Because perhaps, at the end of the road, something better might be waiting for him.

It made sense. Now all he had to do was convince his logical mind to follow through. And that was the tough part. Because the other part of his mind still wanted to kick and rebel.

But not so much since Lizzie.

“It’s not too far. If you’re up for a walk, it’s about a mile.”

She was dressed in a Hawaiian wrap-skirt, midi-length, yellow with a white floral print. Her shirt was a strappy white tank top that left a bit of her belly exposed. No bra. Hair tucked into a floppy straw hat with a few wild tendrils escaping, oversize sunglasses, and sandals.

Normally when she wasn’t on duty she slouched around in terry shorts and an oversize T-shirt—with a bra. Going out with Mateo, for some uncharted reason, she wanted to look better. Funny how looking better made her feel better. Today she was feeling great. Something that hadn’t happened very much recently.

“In fact, there are several shops, so you’ll have a choice of clothing.”

He stood, gave her an appreciative stare, and slipped into his sandals. “So what kind of clothing are we talking about?” he asked, as his gaze stopped on her exposed belly.

“Whatever you like. Do you remember the way you used to dress?”

She did like the three-day stubble on him, and hoped it wouldn’t go once he’d fixed himself up.

“I remember scrubs. A couple of suits… Don’t know if I used to hate them then, but the thought of wearing a suit now…” He faked a gigantic cringe. “Pretty sure I slept in the buff.”

“Too much information,” Lizzie said, fighting back a grin—and a vision of Mateo in the buff.

As a doctor, she’d seen a lot of him, but not all. As a woman, her fantasies went well beyond—and that was dangerous.

Mateo and her on the beach. On a blanket. Him rubbing sunscreen on her back, her shoulders, her thighs…

Definitely dangerous territory, since she hadn’t sorted out what kind of man, if any, she wanted in her future. “You’ve been in the Army for a while. You weren’t sleeping in the buff there.”

He laughed. “Well, maybe if I didn’t in the past, it’s something I might start doing in the future.”

“Beach shorts. Tropical print, lightweight, somewhat baggy, stopping just at the tops of your knees. And a sleeveless T-shirt. Maybe some cargo shorts and a few cotton floral print button-up shirts. Also a pair of long khaki pants, with a white, breezy cotton shirt.”

“And here I was, picturing myself more as a surf bum.”

“Do you surf?” she asked, her mind still stuck on beach shorts and sleeveless T-shirts.

“Don’t have a clue. Do you want to teach me?”

“Your last doctor advised you to stay away from activities like that for at least four months. It hasn’t been four months.”

“Then it’s a good thing my last doctor no longer has a say, and my new friend just might be willing to show me some basic, non-threatening surfing moves. If she surfs.”

“She does—and she’s very good at it.” She hadn’t done nearly as much of it as she would have liked, owing to her dad’s condition, alongside her hyper zest for work. But the thought of surfing with Mateo—well, at least bodyboarding—caused a little flush of excitement. “And if she decides to take you out, she’s in complete control.”

“I never thought she wouldn’t be.” He smiled. “Anyway, my look is your decision. Except red. I won’t wear red.”

“Why not? With your dark skin color…”

He shook his head. “Too much like blood. I’ve seen more of that than I care to. Worn too much of that on me. No red.”

“Red’s overdone,” she said, hiking her oversize canvas bag up to her shoulder. “But blue…that’s a color.”

“So is yellow,” he said, smiling. “On you.”

“Then you’re the type of guy who notices these things about a woman, because in my experience—”

“What experience?” he interrupted.

“Well, in my case not much lately.”

Not for years, to be honest. But Mateo didn’t need to be burdened with her problems when he had enough of his own to wrestle with.

“You know what they say about all work and no play?” he quipped lightly.

“You’re right about that,” she returned.

“No, seriously. What is it they say?” His eyebrows knit into a frown.

“You don’t remember?” she asked, highly suspicious of the twinkle in his eyes.

Was this the real Mateo coming out, or one he was inventing just for her? She’d seen that in patients before—turning into the person they believed she wanted to see. The patient with excruciating headaches who refused to admit to them just to maintain a certain image. The patient with Parkinson’s disease who denied his symptoms as a way of denying the disease.

People showed what they wanted—either to deny to themselves or put on a brave front for someone else—and she couldn’t help but wonder if that was what Mateo was doing…showing her a side of himself he believed she wanted or needed to see. Maybe to maintain the roof over his head for a while? Maybe because he wanted to impress her?

Whatever was going on, she liked that spark, and hoped it was genuine.

He chuckled. “Of course I do. I was just wondering if you did, since you practically admitted you don’t play. But you’re not dull, Lizzie. Maybe not bursting with as much joie de vivre as you could be, or maybe should be, but definitely not dull.”

“Well, dull is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose. I’ve never thought of myself as particularly effervescent, though.”

That was the truth. She was hard-working, serious, dedicated, and passionate about her career, but when it came to the personal aspects of her life, there’d never been much there. Not enough time. Or real interest.

“Then maybe you’re not seeing what I’m seeing.”

“Or maybe you don’t know what you’re seeing because you’ve forgotten what effervescence looks like in a person.”

She motioned him to follow her off the lanai and then to the road in the front of the house. The hospital, and her home, were just a little way outside La’ie, on the north end of the island. It was out of the way, but bursting with life.

A lot of people at the hospital commuted up from Honolulu, or one of the larger cities to the south, like Kane’ohe, but she liked this area—liked the relative smallness of it, loved the people. Even though she’d left huge and disproportionate New York City for this, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else now.

Could she return to big city living? If she had to. Would she want to, though? Not a chance. Living in paradise had spoiled her.

“So, what we’re going to see will be surf shops for the most part. There are a couple of shops that specialize in other things—clothes that are more traditional, shoes, those sorts of things. And then there are the food vendors. All I can say is…heaven.”

“Where every day is a holiday?”

“It can be, if that’s what you want. Oh, and just so you know, I need to run into the hospital and sign some papers. You’re welcome to come in with me, or wait outside if the old familiar surroundings make you uncomfortable.”

“Snakes make me uncomfortable. And bullets. And I don’t think I’m especially fond of clingy women, but I could be wrong about that one. Oh, and cats.”

“You don’t like cats?” she asked.

“Actually, I love cats. Love their independence and attitude. But I’m allergic.”

“I’ve always wanted a cat. Or a dog. But we moved around too much, and my dad didn’t think it would be practical, taking an animal with us. I had a goldfish once. His name was Gus. Had to give him to a friend when we moved from Virginia to Germany.”

“Because your dad was a surgeon. Career Army?”

“Yep—I was seeing the world at a very young age.”

“And enjoying it?”

“Most of the time. Unless he had to leave me behind when he was in a combat zone. Even so, he gave me everything I needed and wanted.”

Except a mother. Somewhere along the way her dad had decided he didn’t have enough time or energy for another marriage, and Lizzie had often wondered if, in the end, having someone with him besides her might have helped him hang on to reality a little longer.

“It must have been tough on your dad, raising a daughter and maintaining his military career.”

“It was what it was, and we managed,” Lizzie said, as they walked along the narrow road, while people on bikes and scooters passed by on both sides of them. “When you never have a person in your life—like I didn’t have my mother—you get used to it and make it work. My dad and I did.”

“What happened to your mother?”

“She lost interest in the life we lived, then in my dad, and left us when I was about five. Died a couple years after that.”

“So she never had a chance to make amends?”

“She could have. But she didn’t want to.”

“And your dad…?”

“He wasn’t interested in trying before Alzheimer’s hit. Then afterwards he didn’t remember her at all.”

“It couldn’t have been easy on you, taking care of your dad the way you did.”

“It wasn’t—but I gave him the care he gave me when I was a child. I couldn’t just…send him away somewhere.”

“He isn’t the reason you’re here?”

“Actually, he is. They have an excellent treatment program at the hospital and I think it gave him more than anybody might have expected. But he lived at home because he loved it there, and I didn’t have the heart to take that away from him. Especially his garden. When he was losing so many things in his life, his flowers still made him happy. It’s nice, looking out every day, seeing a little bit of my dad still there. Somehow it makes the end seem easier. But don’t get me wrong. I miss him. We had a tough life together, which was no one’s fault, but he always tried. He just wasn’t single father material, I suppose you could say. And…and now I look at his flowers and wonder if we both could have tried a little harder. Of course, Alzheimer’s stepped in before we had much of a chance to do anything.”

“How long has he been gone?”

As they walked down the path to the hospital Mateo took hold of her hand and she didn’t pull away. It was nice feeling his touch. Having someone there who cared…at least for a little while. His hand was soft, and she could almost imagine it caressing her skin, giving her goosebumps.

Maybe she’d give him a few goosebumps as she ran her hand over his tight six-pack abs…

Nice dream.

“A year, now. One less brilliant surgeon in the world.”

She noticed Mateo was starting to lag behind, so she slowed her pace to match his, but when she did he slowed down even more. This doctor clearly wasn’t comfortable returning to the hospital, even if he was no longer a patient there.

“Do you need to take a break?” she asked, coming to a stop on the narrow road that led to the hospital’s front door. It was lined with a rainbow of flowers and green, with draping wisps of vine hanging from the trees.

She’d always loved this path. It had welcomed her the day she’d first arrived, and every day since then. And this was part of her dilemma. To stay or to leave? Admittedly, she wasn’t as restless as she’d been only a few weeks before, but her choice still wasn’t clear. In other words, she didn’t know what she wanted. She’d spent a lifetime living the life her dad had wanted for her, and now it was her turn to choose. But what?

Truly, she didn’t know.

“No,” Mateo said. “I’m fine. Just not excited to be back here.” He took his place against a large lava rock, leaned casually back on it, and folded his arms across his chest. “You go do what you need to do, and I’ll wait here.”

He pointed to the little shop just down the road. The front was totally open to the air, and several clothing racks spilled out onto the walkway.

“Or wander down there and pick out the most hideous clothes you can imagine.”

“I’ll be about ten minutes,” she said, heading to the front door, walking along the path and crossing over the circular drive that led straight to the welcome sign: Welina. Greetings to you. It was a friendly place to some. But to some, not so much.

“I didn’t know you’d be stopping by,” Janis said, approaching the entrance to greet Lizzie.

“In the neighborhood.” She glanced back over her shoulder to make sure Mateo was still there. “Looking for clothes for my…whatever he is.”

“Speaking of which—how’s he doing? We were worried until you called. But the thing that really concerns me is that he’s living with you, Lizzie. That’s not a good idea. Dependencies form. It may be difficult to get rid of him when the time comes.”

“It was either that or the beach. And he was totally emphatic about not coming back here or going to the veterans’ facility in California. So…” She shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? He’s not exactly ready to be out in the world on his own, yet.”

She took another hasty glance and saw Mateo talking to a handful of strangers who were huddled around him. He did have that kind of personality—the kind that drew people in. He was making good use of that now.

“He’s not supposed to be living with one of his doctors,” Randy Jenkins said, approaching Lizzie and Janis.

“I’m not his doctor—never have been, never will be. And, not that it’s any of your business, he’s in the ohana, not in the house,” Lizzie said, almost defensively.

“Do what you want,” Randy said. “He’s not a patient here, and right now he’s on his own. So be his friend. I’m sure he needs that.”

“Randy’s right. It’s your choice, Lizzie. But don’t get too involved. I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”

“Hurt?”

“You know…feelings that aren’t reciprocated. You’re vulnerable right now, just like he is, and I don’t want that playing against you.”

“He’s not like you think he is,” she insisted.

“Or maybe he’s not like you think he is,” Janis countered. “Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying. That, and put a leash on his desire to practice medicine. Because if people associate the two of you as medical partners and he makes a mistake, or forgets something…”

“What?” Lizzie spun around and, sure enough, Mateo was examining the wrist of a young boy who couldn’t have been more than seven or eight. “Look, courier those papers over later and I’ll sign them. Right now I think I’ve got to stop a doctor from practicing medicine.”

“Easier said than done,” Janis warned. “It’s in his blood.”

That was going to be a huge problem—teaching an old dog new tricks. Or completely rewiring the old dog until he was an entirely new one. Also, staying detached. That, perhaps, was going to be the hardest part, because Mateo was charming and she was not above being charmed, no matter how much she denied it to herself.

Why? Because she was lonely. Because he was attractive. Especially because he was attractive. Oh, and the charm that just oozed from his pores. She didn’t know if that was really him, or a new Mateo he was trying on for size. But she liked it. Too much.

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