Look Back at Me (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 1)

Klaus

Wednesday and the first half of Thursday had passed in jogging, working, drinking coffee, eating - just a tad more than usual - and sleeping - just a tad less than usual. The two nights Viola had spent in her bed after she'd slept in Rhys' were even more restless than her twenty something years of insomnia, and she wondered what changes she could make to get that level of recuperation she'd achieved in the bevy of his duvets and pillows. Something told her it wasn't the number of high quality bedding items that mattered.

She'd texted him daily, around lunchtime, and they'd exchanged a few flirty messages. Both were tip-toeing around the subject of the next date, but it didn't feel tense. He'd been right then, on the li-lo, she had acted with an uncharacteristic spontaneity - and it had brought the best of results. Perhaps, she thought, she'd just show up at his place after work on Friday.

After lunch on Thursday, she had only one appointment - and she stared at the name of her laptop's screen.

"Snezha," she asked, when the nurse picked up the phone, "I see that Niklas Bjornsson has made an appointment with me for a physical."

"Yes, he has," the nurse answered.

"Isn't he Dr. Fenton's patient? Just as the rest of his family?"

"No, that's his first visit," Snezha said. "After his return to the county, I suppose. Do you need me to come into your office?" the nurse asked pointedly.

Viola thanked her but refused. All the initial data had been entered in his file - Snezha was most dutiful - so whatever she had to share would be gossip and her impression of the patient. As much as Viola appreciated the nurse's judgement, Viola preferred to start such a visit tabula rasa. It helped with professional detachment.

She had a walk-in before Niklas, and it ran a bit behind, because Mrs. Buck, the mother of the local butcher, was an even worse chatterbox than her son.

Viola stepped out into the waiting room with Mrs. Buck's paperwork and handed it to Snezha. Niklas, who sat at a chair by the wall, idly leafing through a magazine, lifted his eyes at her, but didn't rise. His face was schooled in a derisive, haughty expression. Nana's words - 'It's like there is no Holyoake blood in him' - echoed in Viola's mind. She reminded herself it wasn't a social situation. He was a patient waiting for his appointment.

"Let me take you to the examination room," Snezha said, approaching him, and he rose.

And that's when Viola understood.

"It's alright, Snezha," she said with a calm smile. "I'll take Mr. Bjornsson in."

He walked by her, without looking at the nurse, and Viola saw Snezha make a tiny disgruntled grimace behind his back. When they entered the waiting room, she closed the door behind them, walked around, and stopped in front of him.

"Is it easier to stand or to sit?" she asked softly.

His mask dropped, and he gritted his teeth.

"Either," he said, his voice raspy. "Neither?" His face twisted in acute pain, just as Viola had guessed. "Can you do a physical if I lie down on the floor?" he asked in a feeble attempt of a sardonic joke.

"No, sorry," she said. "You need to sit on the cot. And I need to see your upper body, so we will need to take off your shirt. I assume you'd rather my nurse didn't see it, am I right?"

He nodded. She could see muscles dance on his jaw. He made two slow steps forward, and awkwardly climbed on the cot. Viola lowered it, he was after all almost as tall as Rhys.

Viola pulled her chair closer and picked up her tablet to make notes. After a few minutes she understood that she was dealing with an exceptionally depleted patient: his blood pressure was dangerously low, he was underweight, and his heart didn't sound well. He didn't seem malnourished so she assumed it wasn't the quality, but the quantity of food that had caused it, as well as the severe pain, which she needed to approach carefully, she knew.