Her Healing Touch (Love Senses #2)

1. Jason

1

Jason

Jason Henry straightened some papers, loving the crisp sound the thick stack made as it shifted on the edge of his desk. If only people were as safe to touch .

A knock sounded on Jason’s office door.

“Enter,” he said, his voice only quavering a pinch.

Brandy opened the door and peeked in. She was a spunky, middle-aged woman who had been one of Jason’s only friends since he’d taken the job. She was also one of the few in the office who knew about his special circumstances.

“Hey, Jason. I see you’re in hiding today.”

“A bit.”

He worked as assistant office manager at one of the busiest medical clinics in Nashville.

Most of his job could be accomplished in the quiet stillness of his office: pushing paperwork, managing the financial accounts, and arranging appointments for his boss, Rueben. Even though the office staff didn’t know it, Rueben was also his grandpa and the only blood relative who seemed to care about him.

Brandy tapped on the side of the door, getting his attention again. She nodded toward the stack on his desk. “How are the applicants this time around?”

“Not bad, but there’s a lot of them. I’m just glad that Rueben’s in charge of the actual interviewing and I can make the appointments over the phone.” Brandy smiled, and he returned the gesture. Smiles and pleasantries were something he was capable of.

“Rumor around the office is that Rueben’s retiring soon. Chances are you’ll be taking on that responsibility soon, so don’t get too comfortable.”

He stilled. This was news to him. Sure, Rueben was getting older and he’d run the medical office for over twenty years, but he was still young.

“Just wanted to give you a heads up since I know you’ll be a shoo-in for the position.”

Did she know something he didn’t? He hadn’t heard the rumor, but he also didn’t hang around the other staff to hear such gossip. He straightened his shoulders. There was no way his grandpa wouldn’t clue him in.

“Anyway, are those files organized and ready for Rueben?”

Somewhat dazed from the rumor, he swallowed down the nervous knot that had lodged in his throat and looked at the stack of potential employees he might soon see around the office. With the rise of patients needing physicians, the office needed extra help, but he absolutely hated the hiring process.

“Yes, and just in time.” He laid a few files on top of the stack he’d straightened. “These are the applicants whose interviews are set up for tomorrow. I placed them in sequential order and added a green sticky note at the top with each appointment time.”

She beamed at him. “Organized as always.”

“The application window is still open through tomorrow, so if any more come in, set up an appointment for them whenever Rueben has spare time.”

She nodded once. “Will do. Thanks.”

He relaxed his shoulders when the office door shut again.

It was a necessary evil, dealing with people. No, evil was too strong a word. He liked people. He just didn’t like touching them, and since it was nearly impossible to live and work in a society that thrived on touching others, Jason kept to himself.

After working at Glen Clinic for the last seven years, he’d gotten into a groove and was fairly comfortable with his routine. Since it was the biggest medical office in Nashville, with over twenty doctors of different specialties, the clinic was always popping with crowds. Occasionally, he ran into a crowd on the main floor, but whenever possible, he used staff-only entrances that led to his office on the fifth level. It was only when flu season hit or when new hires came around that life got... interesting. He had explained to those closest to him about his neurological condition, but he hated sharing his personal life with anyone he wasn’t close to.

Instead, Jason stayed in his little office in the corner of the building. Occasionally, he had to coordinate with others, but he’d gotten things down to a T, and Rueben understood his inability to connect.

He glanced at the time and sighed. Nearly quitting time. It would have been great if his work responsibilities included staying holed up in his office all day, but unfortunately, he’d learned quickly that only half of his job could be accomplished from his desk.

Jason quickly grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, then balled his fists by his sides. His mom never allowed him to be homeschooled, and instead of psychological treatment or calming medications they couldn’t afford, she’d taught him techniques he could use to get through a moment, get through a day, even.

“Ball your fists,” his mother used to say. “Focus on the tension in your hands.” Balling his fists proved to be the most helpful in a crowd.

As he did every other day, he made his rounds. Every receptionist managed a number of doctors’ schedules, appointments, and prescription requests.

“Hi, Jason,” a receptionist called to him. “Dr. Jill’s office called. They have a new medical assistant to add to the website.”

He nodded and tucked his balled fists behind his back. “Email me their information, and I’ll get it updated,” he said as he moved onto the next receptionist.

“Everything okay?” he asked as Michelle stared at the screen in tears.

“No. This computer has given me problems all day.”

He bit his lip and stayed a few feet behind her. “Want me to have a look?” Although he was no computer expert, he could help out in a pinch.

She glanced back at him. “Sure.”

When he moved toward her chair, she made no motion to leave. He cleared his throat and took a calming breath. “Why don’t you take a break, and I’ll see if I can solve the problem.”

“Really?” Her face brightened. “I can do that.”

She practically skipped through the back door that led to the break room. When he was sure she was finally gone, he heaved a sigh of relief and settled into her seat.

Twenty minutes later, he pushed the rolling chair back from the desk and nearly collided into Michelle. “I’m sorry about that,” he said, his heart racing. He moved the chair in front of him and pinned himself against the nearest wall while he got his bearings. “E-everything’s ready to go. It looks like one of the servers was down. ”

“Ah, okay.” The receptionist smiled sweetly. “Thanks, Jason.”

He nodded and moved the chair back into place before finishing the last of his rounds in record time. And with no further incidents.

By the time he made it back to his office, it was quitting time, and he had to stop himself from running for the staircase. When he reached the stairwell door, he saw a sign taped to it.

Closed for maintenance.

A sinking feeling started in his gut, and his steps grew heavy as he headed back down the hall toward the other stairwell. He passed the elevator just as the doors opened. An empty elevator. He didn’t question it and hurried in to close the door.

He smiled as he stepped into the blessedly human-free space and pressed the main-floor button. He felt like cheering, but restrained himself. On the third level down, the doors opened and he peered out into a nearly empty hallway. With a sigh, he stepped back and waited. Just as the doors started to move, a hand reached out and stopped them from closing.

Jason frowned and stepped back as several people stepped into his line of sight.

“Hold that elevator,” someone called.

Jason backed up against the rear railing, but people just kept coming. Where had they been ten seconds ago? Balling his fists at his sides, he looked down at the ground and closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the thirty-odd seconds it would take to travel three floors, assuming the elevator didn’t stop on any floors between.

An arm bumped into him, and then the tip of a wheelchair hit his knee. He cringed as the space decreased and his knees brushed against the man’s .

“Sorry about that,” the older gentleman in the chair said. “Did I get you?”

He opened his eyes. Only three people had gotten on, one in a wheelchair that took up the space on one side and a couple crammed into the corner with him.

He glanced down and looked into the kindest brown eyes. There was no way Jason could explain his difficulties in a few seconds, so he just shook his head. “Headache.” He touched his head to emphasize his ailment. It wasn’t a total lie. A budding ache in his head was starting.

The older gentleman stared at him with sympathetic eyes. “Sorry to hear that, son. Feel better.”

“Thank you,” he said quickly.

The couple chatted about treatment options for their grandfather, and Jason and the older man stayed silent, quietly accepting their fates.

Once the doors opened to the main floor, he allowed everyone to leave and then took two deep breaths before he exited and maneuvered around a small group waiting to climb aboard. Twenty more steps, and he would be free of the crowd of people waiting in the main lobby. The first year he was hired at the office, he’d worked on the first floor, and it had been a nightmare. During the day, it was nearly impossible not to bump into someone in passing.

When he finally made it outside, the air suffocated him as much as any crowded building. He’d thought of moving many times—away from the Nashville humidity and its bustling crowds—but when it came down to it, he loved routine more than he loved the idea of picking up his life and charting unfamiliar waters.

Jason speed-walked to the furthest parking lot. It was great exercise, something he didn’t get enough of in the office, and it assured him there would be little to no accidental bumpings .

Finally, in the safe confines of his car, a Jetta with too much engine and not enough room in the back, he shut the door and inhaled deeply. The day’s trapped heat washed over his entire body, comforting him. After a few minutes, he started the car and headed home. Just as careful as he was at passing people on the streets, Jason steered his car onto side streets and lonely alleys all the way home.

His townhouse was on the edge of town, and other than sharing a couple of walls with strangers, it was the perfect living situation. After many years of fighting him on so many issues, his parents had been eager to help him get his own place. It was a relief to finally have a place to call his home.

Once inside his house, he laid his keys on the kitchen counter and headed to his room. Without even turning on the light, he crawled into bed and pulled his weighted blanket over himself. After hours of being around people, it took at least a tenth of that time to decompress.

Finally, under the cover of his blanket and the comfort of his bed, Jason relaxed for the first time in hours.

The next morning, a knock sounded on Jason’s office door, making him jump. “Enter,” he called, not looking away from the clinic’s financial reports.

“Rueben needs you in the conference room.”

He looked up to see Brandy smiling warmly at him. His heart sank. If what she’d said the day before about Rueben retiring was true, he was bound to tell Jason soon. “But he’s—”

“In the middle of an interview.” Brandy nodded. “He asked if you would sit in on the next three.”

“Three!” Jason looked up from his screen. “But that’ll eat up my whole day. ”

“I know. Isn’t this exciting? If this isn’t proof he’s trying to pass responsibilities off to you, I don’t know what is. He’s already training you, and you haven’t even taken the job yet.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Rueben’s my—he would have let me know if he was leaving. He wouldn’t spring something like that on me.” Would he? Jason shook his head. No, he wouldn’t do something so cruel. Jason needed time... and people skills.

“I know you can do it, Jason. Chin up.”

Brandy backed out of the room, giving him space to exit. What else could he do? He grabbed a clipboard with blank paper and a pen and stalked out of the room.

“Good luck,” she called to him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled under his breath.

Just as he grabbed the conference room door, a vaguely familiar woman, dressed in a professional suit, exited the room. She had been one of the applicants he’d screened. Jessica or Jamie, maybe. He backed up against a nearby wall just as she passed.

“Excuse me,” she said softly.

He relaxed his shoulders and nodded before she scurried down the hall.

“How did the interview go with her, Rueben?” he asked as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

“It’s just the two of us. You can call me grandpa.”

He released a slow breath. “No, I can’t, and you know it.”

His grandpa sighed. “Fine. Take a seat.”

“How did the interview go?” Jason asked as he chose a seat far away from Rueben. “She seemed polite and well put together. You don’t really need me, do you?” The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush since the next interviewee was due any minute.

“Yes, I do. I need you here, especially since this person is going to be working with you. ”

Panic seized his insides. “Me? But I never—”

“I know you never asked for an assistant, but you’ll need someone once I’m gone.”

“Gone?” Panic rose to his throat, choking him. So the rumor was true. “Where are you going?”

His grandpa had been Jason’s best friend since he’d been in high school and had started struggling with touching others. Rueben understood him, unlike his parents, and though he pushed him to be better, it was done lovingly.

Rueben looked him over and shook his head. “It’s all right, son. It won’t be very soon, but eventually I’d like to retire, and you’re the natural replacement. You know the business as well as I do, and the upper management has agreed it’s time to get you an assistant to free up some of your time so you can slowly start taking over my responsibilities. They’ve unanimously decided to let you take the job, should you accept. You do want the job, right?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then it’s settled.”

Jason shook his head in disbelief. “Grandpa, I can’t—”

“Now you call me that. Listen, you can. You can do this, Jason, can’t you?”

His grandpa’s confidence had carried Jason through years of doubt. Jason finally nodded. “Yes, sir, I can do this.”

His grandpa lifted his hand to slap him on the shoulder, then brought his hand back to the table before he made contact. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. So far, none of the candidates have been what I have in mind.”

What did he have in mind? “What about the woman who was just here? When I read her résumé, she seemed fine.”

“You don’t need fine ,” Rueben muttered.

“What?” he asked, not sure he’d heard Rueben right.

Rueben cleared his throat. “Never mind.” He slid a small stack of papers over to him. “Let’s get started. ”

Hours later, much later than he had wanted to take a lunch break, Jason grabbed his sandwich and headed for the stairs. The issue that had kept him out of the stairwell had been solved, and they were as open and free as ever. He sat down, pressed his face to his knees, and took deep breaths. Hours of small talk, shaking hands, and purposefully looking into every face—it had nearly done him in.

When his legs started cramping, he slowly stood and made his way down the empty stairwell. The quiet calmed him somewhat, and he took each step slowly, enjoying the silence broken only by his shoes on the tile floor. The stairwell led to an employee exit, and without mixing with a single crowd, he escaped outside.

He froze mid-step on the way to his car. The sidewalks were packed with people milling about. Too packed. He searched for some event that might be drawing in a crowd.

A tent on the far side of the building seemed to have the biggest group, and he searched with his eyes, not willing to mingle to get the answer to his question. Then he spotted the cause of the commotion. Little kids, gathered around a tent, sitting in chairs, and staying as still as possible while someone painted their faces. When he was eight, he’d daringly got his face painted. He shuddered, remembering the touch of a paintbrush against his skin. Within minutes of the paint stiffening on his face, he’d escaped to the bathroom to wash it off.

Just as he turned away from the crowds and headed toward his car, someone crashed into him. Wetness seeped into his shirt before he saw the stain. Looking down, his mouth gaped open at the colorful blood-orange display of paint on his white shirt and sandwich. Why today?

“I’m so sorry,” she said, obviously flustered. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. Shoot! What a mess.” She pulled a small towel from her back pocket and started dabbing at his chest.

He looked down at the graffiti mess again and groaned. And then realized what she was doing and backed away. “It’s fine.” He raised his hands to block her.

“But your shirt.” She reached around him and dabbed at his shirt once before he shook her off and took another step back.

He inspected her from paint-speckled hair to paint-splattered tennis shoes. A blood donor T-shirt peeked out from behind her overalls. Little flecks of blue and red paint were woven into her dark hair, and there was an orange smear on her cheek, marring her otherwise perfect complexion. Her lip trembled, and that small movement was enough to snap him out of the moment.

“Please, stop,” he finally managed. He balled his fists at his sides, completely demolishing his ruined sandwich. “I have an extra set of clothes in my office.”

She glanced up at the building. “You work here?”

He cringed. Was she asking him personal questions when he was standing with wet paint all over him? “Yes.”

“Well, let me make it up to you. I can paint your face or buy you a new shirt.” She gave a nervous chuckle, but her first suggestion soured his mood even more.

“No thanks. I think you’ve done enough.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he fled for the office’s front doors, all the while holding his shirt away from his chest with one hand and his ruined lunch in the other. There was no saving the shirt, his sandwich, or the rest of the workday.

As soon as he changed, he was calling out sick.