The Perfect Balance Page 2

  Jessica leant in. “Who am I drawing on and why are we whispering?”

  “Because you’re the only one I trust with this. Nobody can find out, promise me.” She nibbled on her lip. “I’ll have to do it under an assumed name,” she said distractedly.

  “On you? You’re running a panel on yourself? Why? What’s wrong? Oh my God, are you sick or something?”

  “Or something,” Miranda mumbled. “Look, will you just do the draw?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Jessica looked at the clock. “Let’s go now. The next case is in prep, we’ve got a few minutes. I’ve already got the room set up.”

  Jessica led Miranda to a bed in the recovery area. She pulled the curtain around them and got out the supplies they’d need. The mission was quickly accomplished. Miranda thanked the one person she considered a semi-friend, even though she and Jessica didn’t hang out outside the hospital. Miranda didn’t have friends outside the hospital. She did before her marriage, but after Drew performed his transition to Mr. Hyde, it’d been impossible to maintain the relationships. Miranda had one of the doctors sign the work order, telling him it was for another case, and put a fake name on the order. Now all she had to do was wait.

  * * * *

  The last ten days had been the longest of her life. That morning, Miranda had got notice she had a clean bill of health. She’d spent a lot of time over the last week and half thinking about her situation. It was time to put an end to sticking her head in the sand. For the sake of her physical and mental health, she needed to confront Drew. Up till now, it had seemed easier to avoid the problem. Easier to stick with the status quo than to risk another tirade from her husband or, if worse came to worse, the loss of her marriage. Part of Miranda had always thought that, despite his faults, Drew was the best thing she could hope for. The love she’d felt during their courtship had slowly died, but Miranda was committed to her marriage. She believed in the vows she’d spoken, and if Drew chose to divorce her, it would mean she was a failure.

  Then what would she do with her life? It’s not as if she could attract another man easily. Miranda knew she was no belle of the ball. She was short, plain, overweight and even though she felt competent at her job as an operating room nurse, she’d never had the smarts to go to medical school like she dreamed as a little girl. When her mom had met Drew, she’d pulled Miranda aside and told her to marry the man before he came to his senses. Her father had simply sat in his chair in the living room and buried his face in the newspaper, as he had for as long as Miranda could remember.

  Several hours later she opened the front door and found Drew watching television. Miranda put her purse away in the closet and took a deep breath. She stood to the side of the sofa and stared at the man she married.

  “Are you going to say anything, or just stand there and stare at me?”

  She swallowed slowly. “We need to talk.”

  Drew didn’t look away from the programme he was watching. “Oh yeah? It’d better be about what you’re making for dinner.”

  “I planned on—” Miranda had started with her normal response, but stopped before she completed the thought. “No! You’re cheating on me.”

  Drew looked away from the TV, but his face had a rather bored expression.

  “Your point being?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I get more pleasure from fucking a blow up doll than I do between your fat legs.”

  Even prepared for the insult, it still hurt.

  “Oh Jesus don’t start the crying shit. Look, some women are made to fuck and some are made to do everything else around the house. I have needs.”

  Miranda wiped her damp cheeks. “Then why…why bother having sex with me at all?”

  “Because you’re rather convenient. It’s not like I can go out all the time and you are my wife. A bad fuck is a fuck after all. I still get a load off.”

  Drew looked back at the TV and started clicking the remote. Something in Miranda snapped. She strode over to the sofa, ripped the remote out of Drew’s hand and shut off the television. She faced her husband with her fist clenched. “I am not some mannequin who exists simply to make your life easier! I am a living, breathing human being. I have feelings and desires and needs just as you claim to have. I’m tired of being your servant and receptacle for your frustration and hate. Your whoring not only demeans the vows we spoke to each other, but you’ve risked my life, you stupid, selfish son of a bitch!”

  Miranda gasped at her outburst. She’d never shouted at Drew before. And by the redness of his face, the outcome was not going to be good.

  Chapter One

  April 2006

  Miranda dragged the roll of packing tape across the top of the box then secured the end. She twisted and turned, looking for the roll of pink duct tape. Pink meant living room, and she knew if she waited to label the box, it would get lost and end up in storage somewhere. She could have sworn it was lying on the floor beside her a moment ago.

  “Axel!” she called out, warningly. “Did you steal my tape again?”

  There was a loud noise in the kitchen and Miranda rolled her eyes, not even wanting to imagine what the cause behind that sound was. She heard the click of her two year old boxer’s nails on the wood floor.

  Axel’s head peeked around the corner of the kitchen island at the other end of the room, purloined tape clutched firmly in his jaw.

  “Bring it here,” she commanded, holding out her hand.

  Axel’s head tilted as if to question what Miranda meant.

  “Come.”

  With a sigh, the all-white boxer crept towards her. But where Axel’s white coat should have been there was instead a fine layer of blue fuzz. When he stopped in front of her, Miranda couldn’t help but laugh at benign expression on his face. Those giant black eyes swam with innocence. She brushed at his coat. The short hair of his fur tickled her hand, and little blue puff balls filled the air.

  “I don’t even want to know where this came from.”

  Axel sat on his rear haunches and leant into Miranda’s touch.

  “Okay, drop it.”

  He did as ordered then lifted his head and gave Miranda a big kiss on her cheek.

  “Ugh!” she cried out, wiping her cheek, then wrapped her arms around Axel’s sturdy neck.

  “I love you too, boy.”

  Suddenly tears leaked from the corners of Miranda’s eyes. They’d spent a lot of time together like this over the last three months. One minute Miranda would be fine and the next she’d be weeping as if she were her mother watching the latest lifetime movie of the week. However, when everyone else in her life had abandoned her, Axel was never far away. Always up for a jaunt to the park to let off some steam, or simply lay on his bed while Miranda cuddled up on the couch to watch a movie or read a book.

  Now a year after she’d confronted Drew about his abuse, and Miranda was finally able to admit that Drew’s behaviour was abuse, his treatment of her had got so much worse. The malevolent whirlpool her life had become finally managed to suck her under. Months of fighting, silent treatments and every other form of verbal abuse that Drew could sling at her took its toll, and Miranda’s depression hit an all time low. Low enough that even a doctor she’d only worked with a couple of times asked if she was okay during one shift at the hospital.

  She’d suggested to Drew that they go to marriage counselling to talk about their problems, but when he’d not shown up for their first two appointments, Miranda had apologised to the psychologist and left, more defeated than ever.

  The final straw had been when Miranda had got a call at work from the police saying that Drew had been arrested for propositioning sex to a minor in a night club, and would she come bail him out. She’d hung up, finished her shift, gone home, packed all of Drew’s clothes in his matching five piece luggage then dropped it off at the police station where he was being held. The next day she’d found an attorney and used the savings she’d been putting away for the past year to put down a de
posit on the divorce proceedings. Failure or not, she couldn’t take any more.

  Three months later, Miranda had been driving, her mind a swirling fog of self recrimination, pain and anger after signing the final divorce papers, and had passed an animal shelter not far from her condo. There was a huge banner outside that advertised for adoptions, and in a rash but ultimately perfect decision, she decided to find a companion to take home with her.

  Miranda had strolled up and down the concrete aisles, peering in the chain linked pens at all the homeless animals. A chorus of barks echoed off the concrete walls, acting as her soundtrack on the expedition. Her heart had gone out to each one, part of her wishing she could take them all home. Well, all except maybe the Brittany Spaniel doing his best to imitate the Tasmanian devil from the cartoons in the corner. She’d been about to give up, convinced that the errand was impulsive and that’s why none of the animals really called to her, when her eyes landed on Axel’s cage. He’d sat quietly, almost as if he’d been waiting just for her to show up. When Miranda had squatted down to his eye level, he’d tilted his head, and if dogs actually had the ability to smile, she would have suggested his jowls had spread wide from one floppy ear to the other.

  He’d come home with her that day after a quick stop to the local pet store to pick up supplies and a couple of toys. The moment they’d entered the condo, the atmosphere instantly felt homier than it had in the three and half years she’d lived there.

  Miranda sat back and wiped her eyes. “Enough weepiness. A few more boxes and we’ll be finished. Then tomorrow it’s off to the spa for me and you.” She rubbed the back of Axel’s ears and he let out a low moan. “We have to look our best when we arrive in our new home. I think you’re going to like Boston. It’s a city, like Chicago. There’s a huge park we can play in, and it’s on the ocean so there’s still water nearby. It’s not the same as the lake, but I hear there’s lot of stuff to do down by the harbour. Not to mention we’ll probably learn all kinds of new stuff, since the city played such a big part of the country’s history.”

  She ripped off a piece of the pink tape and stuck it on the box in front of her. Miranda looked around at the piles of cardboard surrounding her. Sadly, there wasn’t much. Drew had made her get rid of most her stuff when they got married. Miranda had managed to squirrel away a few boxes of mementos from her childhood, teens and years at college. She’d kept them at a storage place not far from the house, paying each month’s rent out of her allowance. Drew had never been the wiser, thank God. After Drew had moved out, she retrieved the boxes and brought them home.

  Rocking back on her heels, Miranda stood with a soft groan and only one crack as she stretched her arms overhead. She walked into the kitchen and found the box of utensils that she hadn’t yet sealed shut tipped over on its side, the contents spilled onto the floor. The remains of one of her kitchen towels lay shredded in a pile. That must have been the source of the blue fuzz.

  “So that’s what you were up to.” She peered over her shoulder, knowing Axel would be right behind her. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  Axel let out a little whine, and Miranda scoffed. Axel had the I’m the adorable puppy please don’t punish me routine down pat. Unfortunately she also knew—thanks to the puppy training classes they’d been to—punishing Axel now would do no good, so she cleaned up the mess and put the box on the counter so he wouldn’t be able to knock it over again.

  Miranda shut off the light in the kitchen, made sure that the front door was locked and sent the living room into darkness with the flick of the last switch. She headed for the bathroom off her bedroom, in need of a long hot shower to loosen up the muscles stiff from packing over the last week.

  Miranda tilted her head back for one last rinse from the hot water then shut off the valve. Stepping out of the shower she dried herself, using the last towel not packed away, brushed her teeth and combed out her hair. Miranda was tempted to go to bed without drying the long tresses, but knew come morning she’d regret that decision, not to mention, who wanted to snuggle up to a wet pillow? After her plain brown strands crackled with static electricity from her dryer, she slathered on a layer of lotion—the bitter Chicago winter had wreaked havoc on her skin. Finally Miranda slipped on her PJs. She’d already taken Axel out for his last potty break, so she climbed into bed. She heard Axel get settled on his big dog bed against the wall.

  “Good night, Axel,” she whispered.

  Tomorrow morning Miranda would pack the boxes up in her ten year old Jeep Grand Cherokee, and after her and Axel’s appointments, they’d hit the road for Boston. Drew had taken all the furniture in the divorce except the bed, and Miranda had a donation company coming to pick it up in the morning. She’d sold the condo, thankfully at a profit, and after splitting the equity with Drew still had enough leftover to get her new life started in Boston. She’d flown out to Massachusetts to interview for a position at Mass General a month ago, and while there, toured a couple of apartments within her price range. She didn’t plan on buying right away, not until she got a better feel for the city and its neighbourhoods. Two weeks ago, she’d got the call that the position was hers. She’d turned in her notice and brought home boxes that very afternoon.

  After three years of dreading the next day, Miranda knew that tomorrow when she woke up it would be the beginning of a new life. One she planned on celebrating each and every day.

  * * * *

  Miranda clocked in for her first shift at the hospital after orientation. She pushed open the door to the women’s locker room and pulled a set of scrubs off the stocked shelves. She usually wore a medium, but when she slid the top over her head it was apparent that either this manufacture sized differently or the label was incorrect because the material was exceeding tight across her chest and came to a halt a good two inches above her waist line. Miranda wiggled her way out. She probably looked ridiculous to the other staff in the room, twisting her way around as she tried to get the material back over her head. The material magically disappeared and once free, Miranda spun around. Another woman stood next to her with a smile on her face and Miranda’s removed garment in her hand.

  “Looks like you got the lucky shirt today. There’s always one that never fits the way it should.”

  Miranda picked up her shirt lying on the bench and covered her chest. “Thanks.”

  She picked up another top from the wire shelf and this one slid over her body the way it should. Great way to start a new job, looking as if she were a moron who couldn’t dress herself. Miranda slid on a pair of bottoms, drawing the string tight so they wouldn’t slip during the day. She wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, so she hurriedly put her tennis shoes back on. She’d spent a little over a hundred dollars on the New Balance product, but Miranda swore by them. She’d worn New Balance in the OR for years, and despite having tried others, never found a more comfortable set for the long hours spent on her feet. She slid a pair of covers over her feet then slid the pony hat over her head, making sure her long hair was secure under the material before tying the cord at the base of her skull.

  Walking through the halls she started to get a little nervous, but excited at the same time. What would the members of her new team be like? Would they welcome her, or would they behave as some elitist society Miranda didn’t have the pedigree to join? Would everyone get along, or would there be a bunch of smiling masks in place until a person’s back was turned? Miranda had been part of more than one team where snide gossip and comments flew through the sterile hallways faster than the germs they tried to protect their patients from contracting.

  She made her way to the charge desk to find out what surgeries were scheduled for the morning. As she turned a corner there was a blur of white and blue then Miranda found herself smashed up against a hard chest.

  “Oh!” she cried, putting her hands up to catch herself before she fell.

  “Shit! I’m sorry,” the deep voice above her head growled, and a pair o
f arms came around her. Miranda stiffened at the unfamiliar male touch.

  “Hey it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  The hands around Miranda’s waist let go and rested gently on her shoulders. She looked up and found herself staring the base of a man’s neck. The tendons were smooth and long beneath the skin. Her gaze travelled upwards and came to a sculpted jaw line that held a rough growth of hair that spoke of either determined perpetual grooming, or a busy doctor’s schedule. A pair of lips with just the right amount of softness rested below a set of high cheekbones and a straight nose. She took a step back and got a better overall picture. Standing before her was a living breathing god of masculinity with shaggy dark blond hair and a pair of sky blue eyes. Miranda was both amused at herself and little scared. After her experience with Drew, she knew good looks were often veils for darker attributes in a human.

  “Are you okay? I really didn’t mean to nearly run you over. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  Miranda took another step back. “No, it’s my fault, Doctor.”

  Miranda moved around the tall man and quickly made her way down the hall. She found the door labelled as the staff lounge and ducked inside. Inside were several other nurses, most drinking coffee and chatting.

  Miranda went over the coffee pot and poured herself a cup. She didn’t really need more caffeine, but at least it gave her something to do with her hands. She ripped open the packet of sugar substitute and added it and a dash of creamer to the dark brew.

  “Hi! You must be Miranda. I’m Jenna.”

  Miranda found herself looking at a young woman with really short black hair and green eyes that could only be the result of contacts. The green was enhanced by heavy black eyeliner that made the girl’s eyes appear even more cat-like. At least the woman was smiling, quite brightly in fact. Brighter than anyone should at five in the morning, in Miranda’s opinion.