Anna Watson brushed a dark strand of curly hair away from her face and straightened her shoulders. She stood in front of the closed door, strengthening her resolve. She'd been told what to expect. Absently her hand smoothed the crisp white pants of her nurse's uniform. This was a new case, and she couldn't help feeling apprehensive after listening to Dr. Richardson.
Determined she forced a smile and opened the door. Quickly, her blue eyes scanned the interior. Although the sun was shining, the drapes were closed and the room was filled with oppressive shadows. A solitary figure in a wheelchair stared silently into the distance.
With purpose-filled strides, Anna walked into the room.
"Good morning, Mr. Littrell. I'm your nurse, Miss Watson. I believe Dr. Richardson mentioned I was coming."
Silence.
Undeterred, Anna pulled open the drapes and paused momentarily to take in the beauty of the Florida coast. Huge waves crashed against the beach. The sky was the bluest of blue and not a cloud was in sight. Anna sighed her appreciation.
"Close the drapes." The harshly whispered words were barely discernible.
Anna decided to ignore him. No one had told her he was so young, mid twenties at most. His hair was dark and needed to be trimmed, his eyes were like that of a caged lion -- fierce, and at the same tie hopeless and angry. It wasn't difficult to see that this man had once been vital and proud. But he was close to being broken, and that was the reason she was there.
"It's a beautiful morning. I was up at dawn and saw the sunrise."
"I said close the drapes." There was no doubting the command a second time. The dark eyes squinted against the light.
"I'll be bringing your breakfast in a moment, if you'd like to get ready."
His mouth thinned, hardening his expression. Two large hands rotated the chair to her side.
"Would you like to eat on the deck?" She asked.
Ignoring her, he leaned forward, grabbed the drapes' pulley and tugged them closed.
Expelling a frustrated sigh, Anna turned to him, hands on her hips. No, she wouldn't let this man get the better of her. It would be best for them both if he recognized early that she wasn't like the others.
The room was again dim, with only a minimum of soft light. Dragging a chair to the double glass doors, she unhooked the pulley, opened the drapes, and tossed the cord so that it caught on the valance.
"If you prefer to have the drapes closed, then do it yourself."
His eyes seemed to spit fire at her, but he said nothing. Although his face was covered with at least a day's growth of beard, Anna could see the nerve twitch in his lean jaw.
"I'll be back in five minutes with your breakfast," she informed him primly. She closed the door on her way out and paused to inhale a deep breath. Dr. Richardson hadn't understated the situation; Brian Littrell could easily be her most difficult case.
The dark haired woman Anna had been introduced to earlier that morning glanced up expectantly when Anna entered the large, modern kitchen.
"How'd it go?" Charity questioned with speculative eyes.
"Fine," Anna answered with a weak smile.
"I've been working for Mr. Littrell too many years to accept that. Odds are you won't last the week." The cheery tone carried a heavy note of challenge.
"I'll last," Anna laughed as she poured a glass of juice and set it on the tray.
A brow flicked upwardly approvingly, "I said to Mr. Littrell's mother the minute I saw you that you'd be the one to help Mr. Littrell be his ol' self again."
"He has to help himself. There's only so much you or me or anyone can do," Anna explained tightly, and lifted the breakfast tray. She didn't mean to sound rude, or discouraging but it was best to set the woman straight now. She wasn't a miracle worker.
"Mr. Littrell's mother will be here this afternoon. I know she'll want to talk to you."
"Let me know when she arrives." The swinging kitchen door was opened with a push of her shoulder.
Brian had wheeled across the room. He glanced up when she entered. His look was hard and unwelcoming; there was a grim line to his mouth. "I'm not hungry."
"No I don't imagine you work up much of an appetite sitting in the chair, do you?"
Blue eyes flashed and narrowed menacingly.
"Well, if you're not hungry, I am." Anna walked onto the verandah and set the tray on the table. She made a small production of lifting the sliver-domed food warmer. A thick slice of ham, two fired eggs, and hash-browns filled the plate. An order of toast was wrapped in a while linen cloth and set to the side. Anna deliberately slid the knife across the ham and lifted the first bite to her mouth. "Delicious," she murmured with closed eyes.
Twice she felt his gaze on her, but said nothing. When she had finished, she stood and walked to the far side of the long deck. The view was fantastic. Brian Littrell must be more than bitter to block this beauty from his life. But then, she knew what it was to be immune to the lovelier things of life.
"I'll take the tray back to the kitchen and send Dennis in to help you bathe."
He ignored her comment. "You didn't drink the orange juice." He reached up and lifted it from the tray. There was a suppressed violence about the way he handled the glass -- as if he wanted to hurl it at her. "The hired help eat in the kitchen. Remember that."
She shouldn't have smiled. Anna realized that too late. Without warning he emptied the contents of the glass on her uniform. An involuntary gasp escaped as the cold liquid ran down her front. Calmly she set the tray aside. Their eyes clashed and held as she struggled to maintain control of her temper. "I'm sure that was an accident, Mr. Littrell."
"And I assure you it wasn't." His hard glaze held hers with amused cynicism.
"That's unfortunate," Anna returned, and without a backward glance she emptied the remains of her lukewarm coffee in his lap. Not waiting for his reaction, she took the tray. "I'll send Dennis in," she announced crisply and left.
Her hands were trembling when she came into the kitchen. Brian Littrell's arrogant pride was definitely going to be a challenge. But he'd learn soon enough. The display of temper pleased her. He hadn't lost the will to fight. That was good; it was very good.
