The Night Nurse

Dinner at the hospital arrived in cardboard containers because Clara had told Adrian she didn't need china to eat chicken.

He'd requested plates anyway. She'd made him open his own container. Titan had slept through most of the meal and awakened the instant a French fry hit the floor.

Three weeks later, she could still remember Adrian's expression when he lost that particular contest.

Now he was back at the estate, in a wing untouched by the fire, trying to convince a physical therapist that he'd done enough exercises.

“You said that before you started,” Clara observed from the doorway.

Adrian turned his head.

“Stay out of this.”

“I brought your snack. I can leave with it.”

The therapist finished his instructions with a composure she admired. When he left, Adrian accepted the water she offered and took a little time to catch his breath.

Clara placed the plate within reach and opened the shift notes. There was a reassuring structure to his care now. Price oversaw his recovery, the professionals rotated, and Marcus verified every arrival. The pay was excellent, but what surprised her most was finishing a shift without getting messages asking her to cover another one.

“You're looking at the clock,” Adrian observed.

“I'm checking the time. It's a useful quality in a nurse.”

“Your shift ends at eight. It's four twenty.”

“You're paying quite a bit of attention to my shift.”

He picked up a piece of toast without answering.

Titan came in, limping less than he had the week before. He carried a corner of his blanket between his teeth and dragged it over to Clara's chair. After turning twice, he lay down.

“Has he moved rooms?” she asked.

“Apparently I'm the only one still paying for the house.”

She bent to free the blanket trapped beneath a paw. When she straightened, Adrian was watching her with an expression she hadn't learned to read.

There were things she already knew about him. He didn't like being surprised from behind. He hated people discussing his recovery as though he wasn't present. When his pain got worse, he became excessively polite.

And he always noticed when she hadn't eaten lunch.

“Where's the other half?” he asked, pointing to her sandwich.

“I ate it.”

“You came in with the whole thing.”

Clara glanced at her hand. She'd left the other half on the counter while sorting supplies.

“You ought to use that talent for something productive.”

“I am. Sit down and finish eating.”

“Was that an order?”

He rested his head against the chair.

“It was an impatient request. I can try again.”

She sat, hiding a smile.

A little later, a man in a gray suit appeared with Marcus. Clara recognized him from photographs on a console table: Victor, the cousin who'd visited twice since Adrian's discharge.

“The famous Clara,” he said. “I've heard so much about you, I feel as though we've worked together for years.”

She accepted his greeting without moving away from the counter.

“I hope there haven't been too many complaints.”

“Quite the opposite. My cousin has never been so obedient.”

“Don't exaggerate,” Adrian said.

Victor smiled. He had the same dark hair, but his easy social manner struck her as calculated. Or perhaps she was simply tired and not particularly interested in conversation.

“Are you still seeing patients outside the house? Coordinating all those hours must be difficult.”

“My agency handles the scheduling.”

“Of course. I help manage some of the estate expenses. If you ever have trouble with a payment, let me know.”

“Thank you. Everything's been fine.”

The cousins began discussing family business. Clara put away the used supplies, updated her notes, and called a patient who'd left a coat in a transportation service's car.

When she returned, Adrian was alone with his eyes closed.

“Your visitor wore you out.”

“My cousin has that effect on healthy people.”

She adjusted the curtain to keep the light off his face. He caught the edge of her sleeve between his fingers.

Clara stopped.

“What is it?”

“You're tired too.”

There was concern in his voice, without the familiar teasing. Something delicate and inconvenient shifted inside her chest.

“I'll sleep when I get home.”

He released the fabric slowly.

“Marcus can have someone drive you.”

“I'll think about it.”

This time, he didn't press.

Shortly before eight, Clara prepared to hand over to Nora, the nurse covering the next shift. Marcus had been called to deal with something at the service gate. Another guard checked in a blond woman carrying a structured bag and wearing burgundy scrubs.

“Elise Turner,” she introduced herself. “I'm covering for Nora.”

Clara checked the latest message from the agency. There was no change listed.

“Is she all right?”

“Something came up with her daughter. Last-minute notice.”

It was plausible. It happened all the time. Clara asked for identification, recorded the details, and called the agency's on-call supervisor.

While the call connected, the woman showed her the estate's visitor authorization on her phone.

“The office has already cleared me. You don't need to miss your bus.”

“I just need to confirm the change and give you a report.”

Adrian was finishing a phone call near the window. Titan sniffed Elise's bag and moved away when she lifted it.

“Does he stay in the room?” she asked.

“Most of the time.”

“I'd prefer him removed during care. It's a safety issue.”

Clara didn't argue. Her supervisor answered, asked her to hold while she checked the schedule, then said she'd call back.

Elise glanced at the phone.

“Those offices take forever. You can give me the report while we wait.”

Clara described the shift, showed her the notes, and explained what remained on the schedule. The woman listened without asking a single question about the patient. When Adrian ended his call, she gave him a professional smile.

“Good evening, Mr. Castellano. I'll be taking care of you tonight.”

He looked at Clara before answering.

“I thought Nora was coming.”

“So did I,” Clara said.

Her phone vibrated. She stepped to the doorway to hear clearly. Her supervisor's voice came through without hesitation.

“Nora's on her way. We don't employ anyone named Elise Turner. Do not hand your patient over to her.”

Clara was already turning when she saw the open bag on the counter.

Elise had taken out supplies that had nothing to do with the care Clara had just described. She was approaching Adrian as he extended an arm to set his phone on the table.

Clara crossed the doorway.

“Don't touch him.”

Adrian looked up at her.