Free Dancing in the Rain by Amanda Harte

life. But the patient was less critical. He let out a full-bodied laugh. “That’s good,” Carolyn said with another of those smiles that must have charmed the young men in Texas. “Laughter can heal almost as well as medicine.”
    “If you say so, Nurse.” Corporal Miller closed his eyes and relaxed. Dwight shook his head slightly. Though Carolyn’s techniques were distinctly unconventional, he had to admit they worked.
    “Did your grandmother live with you?” he asked when they had sutured the corporal’s wounds. Although he normally spoke only to demand another instrument or bandage, Dwight was feeling almost ebullient at the fact that he had saved the man’s arm. Miller would return home able to wrap both arms around his sweetheart. Sweetheart? Where had that thought come from? Dwight hadn’t been thinking of Louise.
    “What makes you think that?”
    For a second, Dwight stared at Carolyn, wondering how she had known he was thinking about sweethearts. Then he realized she was responding to his question about her grandmother. “You quote her so often,” Dwight said, hoping his relief that she was not a mind reader was not obvious. He didn’t need anyone—especially Carolyn—knowing the direction his thoughts had taken. “I figured you must have spent a lot of time with your grandmother.”
    Carolyn blushed. Her lips parted as if she were going to speak, but before any words could emerge, she clamped them together.
    Though Dwight raised one brow, trying to encourage her, she remained silent. By the time she had anesthetized a man with a head wound but had uttered not one word, Dwight was annoyed. Was she playing a game, reminding him that he was normally taciturn? Pettiness like that seemed out of character for Carolyn.
    When her lips quivered again, Dwight could stand it no longer. “It’s obvious you want to say something. Do it.”
    She shook her head and handed him the forceps he’d requested. “You told me to think before speaking or acting. I simply took your advice.”
    He grimaced. “Is this a case of ‘be careful what you ask for’?” When Carolyn shrugged, Dwight suspected she had no intention of responding to his original question. “At this point, whatever you say can hardly be classified as impulsive,” he told her. Though he’d been mildly curious about her grandmother when he’d posed his question, now Dwight felt an almost irrational need to know how the older woman had influenced Carolyn. “You’ve had plenty of time to think and to phrase your answer as carefully as an attorney.” Dwight looked down at his patient, annoyed when he realized how distracted he was. “Come on, Carolyn. What’s the problem? All I did was ask was a simple question.”
    “But the answer’s not so simple.” Another blush stained her cheeks. Dwight wondered if she realized how becoming that blush was. Even when frowning, Carolyn was a beautiful woman, but with the faint color on her face and those sparkling blue eyes … Dwight clenched his jaw, attempting to repress thoughts that were decidedly inappropriate.
    “Promise you won’t tell anyone?” she asked. She looked around the room, as if trying to assure herself that no one would overhear her. But the rest of the staff, unlike Dwight, was too busy treating the wounded to care about Carolyn’s revelation.
    Dwight nodded his assent. “And if you’re wondering whether you can trust me, remember that you’re the one who said I have honest thumbs.” He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face at the memory of her absurd declaration. It was just another dreary day in Goudot, with rain pelting the windows. The coal shortage had worsened, and now even the operating theater, which had been reasonably warm yesterday, felt frigid. Yet the dismal conditions had seemed to fade when Carolyn told her tales. Honest thumbs! What an idea!
    “That’s the problem.”
    Dwight quirked an eyebrow. “You mean you were wrong, and I don’t have