Rebekah (Seven Sisters Book 4)

by Amelia C. Adams

  Dr. Hunsaker’s face had gone completely slack as he listened. “You . . . have powers?” he said at last.

  “Yes. But not like Superman powers—I’m not actually sure what to call it.”

  Incredulity was all over his face. “I have no idea how to respond to that,” he said at last. “I’ve never encountered anything like this . . . Is it some kind of witchcraft?”

  Rebekah shook her head emphatically. “No. None of us practice witchcraft, or want to. This just happened—we didn’t seek it out or anything.” She paused. “There is some history in our family of unusual talents that are passed from father to son, but we don’t have any idea how we got involved, since we’re all girls.”

  Dr. Hunsaker took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t think you’re lying to me,” he said after a long minute. “I’ve seen the evidence that something’s going on, and your explanation makes about as much sense as anything I could come up with. But I do need just a little more evidence, Nurse McClain.”

  “What would you like me to do?”

  “Come with me.” He stood up and made his way to the other wing of the hospital, where the surgical patients were being treated. “We’re going to play a little game, if you’ll indulge me. I’m going to introduce you to several people, and you’ll tell me what they’re being treated for.”

  She nodded. “Yes, let’s do it. And thank you for being willing to hear me out.”

  “Believe me, I’m as skeptical as the day is long, but I also can’t deny something when it’s happening right in front of my face. This first room belongs to Mr. Kowalski.”

  They stepped inside, and Dr. Hunsaker approached the bed. “Mr. Kowalski, how are you feeling today?”

  The man coughed into a tissue he had balled up in his hand. “I’m fine, Doc. Just waiting for my wife to come in—she’s usually here by now. Probably traffic.”

  “Probably. You’ll let the nurse know if you need anything, right?”

  “Sure will, Doc.”

  They stepped back into the hall, and Rebekah said, “He has black spots on his lungs caused by years of smoking. Lung cancer, advanced.”

  “And his prognosis?”

  She blinked. She’d never stopped to consider that before—she’d always been focused on solving the problem in the here and now. “Three weeks,” she replied as the knowledge formed in her gut.

  “That’s just remarkable,” Dr. Hunsaker said, almost to himself.

  As they moved down the hall, Rebekah diagnosed a deviated septum, a badly inflamed hemorrhoid, a shattered tibia, and the need for a hysterectomy. After the hysterectomy patient, they returned to Dr. Hunsaker’s office, where he sank into his chair as though all the strength had gone out of him.

  “I can’t deny it—what you have is a gift,” he said at length. “Now the question is, what is to be done about it. You don’t want people to know, I assume, especially since it took you this long to tell me.”

  “That’s right, sir. I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable around me. I’m not crazy, I’m not a witch—I’m just using a gift I was given, and hopefully, I’ll be able to do some good in the world.”

  “And this is why you’re leaving nursing to become a doctor.”

  “That’s right. No one questions doctors like they do nurses, and being a doctor would give me access to more patients and broaden the ways I can do my job.”

  “That’s admirable. It really is.” He leaned back in his chair and regarded her. “How can I help?”

  Chills ran down her arms. He was taking this so much better than she’d even dared to imagine. “Just keep my secret,” she said.

  He nodded. “I can do that. I hope you know that means I can’t give you any preferential treatment—you’ll have all the same duties as you did before, including the more unpleasant ones.”

  “I understand that completely, sir. I don’t want to be treated any differently.”

  He stood up and reached out to shake her hand. “I’m honored to have you on our team—but just so you’re aware, I was honored before I knew about your gift. You’ve always been an asset to this hospital.”

  “Thank you, sir. Oh, and some milk of magnesia should help with that heartburn.”

  She grinned as he looked at her in surprise, and then he chuckled. “Heartburn you caused, I’ll have you know.”

  “Yes, sir. And I’m sorry about that.”

  ***

  “And there you go.” Jeremy finished bandaging up the wound and fastened it with a strip of medical tape. “Make sure to change this dressing every day, all right? And you’d better check in with your doctor and let him know what happened.”

  “All right. Thank you.” The woman who’d called had been chopping onions and somehow managed to slice her finger pretty deeply. It wasn’t bad enough for stitches, though it had bled quite a lot and scared her.

  Jeremy put everything back in his kit and carried it out to the ambulance where Frank, his partner, had started up the engine. “Wish she’d just gone into her doctor’s office,” Frank said, grumbling a little. “We could have gotten a real call while we were here.”

  Jeremy knew what Frank meant, but he replied, “No real harm done, and she was in shock—driving would have been a bad idea.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I just don’t want to miss saving someone’s life because of an owie finger.”

  Jeremy didn’t reply—again, he knew what Frank meant, and it also wasn’t his job to keep his partner ultra-positive all the time. They had to blow off steam somehow so their frustrations wouldn’t impact their patients.

  “So, got anything going on tonight?” Frank asked. “Wanna go down to the bar with me and watch the game?”

  “I’m hoping I’ll have a date,” Jeremy replied.

  “You’re hoping?”

  “Yeah. I need to go ask her.”

  Frank laughed. “That’s usually how it’s done, right? Well, if she says no, come on down. They do half-price wings during games.”

  “Will do.” Or maybe he wouldn’t—he wasn’t really into football, but he appreciated Frank’s invitation. It meant he was starting to fit in here.

  After their shift ended, Frank and Jeremy went their separate ways, and Jeremy headed over to the hospital. He’d been lucky enough to catch Rebekah on her way home on Saturday—he wondered if that would happen again, but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and her car was gone too. He wished he’d asked for her address or her phone number, but he was trying to give her space . . . and space was overrated.

  “Fine,” he muttered. He needed to pick up some groceries anyway—he’d been too busy to stock up in his new place.

  As he pulled in to the grocery store, he noticed a familiar car sitting outside, and he started to laugh. It had to be destiny—there wasn’t another explanation for it.

  “I swear, I’m not following you around,” he said when he caught up to Rebekah on the ice cream aisle. “Yes, I did go to the hospital to try to find you, but running into you here is a complete coincidence.”

  “Sure. That’s what all the creepy stalkers say.” She looked into his basket. “You haven’t even gotten anything yet.”

  “I just got here.”

  “Very likely story.” She pointed to the display case. “Chocolate or vanilla? This is where we find out a lot about each other.”

  “I’m more of a Rocky Road sort of person,” he replied.

  “Very good choice. Do you know why it’s called Rocky Road?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “It was invented during the Depression, and they wanted a name that would cheer people up.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Then why didn’t they name it something like Fluffy Bunnies or Sparkling Unicorns?”

  “I don’t know. I retain useless trivia, not the answers to random hypothetical questions.”

  “I see.” He reached into the case and pulled out a quart of Rocky Road. “Either way, you talked me into it.”

>   “Then I’ve fulfilled my purpose.”

  They continued to chat as they moved through the store, and Jeremy was surprised at how fun it was to shop with a friend. He hated going to the grocery store, but Rebekah made it much less painful. She questioned half the things he put in his cart, but that was part of what made it fun.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” she said as he reached for a jar of Goober Grape. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m buying Goober Grape,” he replied. “That’s why my hand is moving toward it.”

  She shook her head impatiently. “Do you realize how much money you’re wasting? Look. Here’s a jar of peanut butter, and here’s a jar of grape jelly. When you compare them ounce for ounce to that horrible gimmicky concoction you’re trying to buy, you’ll realize just how much money you’d save mixing it together yourself. Pennies per sandwich! Pennies! And do you know what pennies add up to?”

  He blinked. “Dollars?”

  “Yes!”

  “But you forgot something.” He picked up the jar of Goober Grape, glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and took off the lid. “Stripes,” he said, angling it so she could see.

  “And stripes are worth the extra money to you?”

  “Stripes are worth quite a bit in my world. You have to take your entertainment wherever you can get it.” He put the lid back on the jar, then put the jar in his cart.

  “Things are starting to become clear to me now. You’ve just moved to town and you have no better entertainment than buying striped jam, so you’ve chosen to turn your attention to me to alleviate your boredom.”

  “Well, it’s not as desperate as all that, but yes, I do enjoy striped jam.”

  She laughed. “You’re kind of hopeless. Did you know that?”

  “Sadly, yes.” He leaned on the handle of his cart. “Let me run home, put my food away, and then come over—we can bake a frozen pizza, and I’ll rent a movie on my way. I’d invite you to my place, but I’ve got some boxes stacked up in the living room that I need to get rid of before I’ll be fit for company.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” Rebekah said. “Just one question. What kind of pizza?”

  Oh, she really was testing him, wasn’t she? “Supreme,” he said after thinking it over. He didn’t know how traditional or untraditional she was, but he did think that she’d want more than just plain pepperoni.

  “Good call,” she said with a grin. “All right, it’s a date.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a little notebook and pen. “Here’s my address. Give me about half an hour, all right? As you can tell from my lovely hospital attire, I’m here straight from work, and I want a quick shower.”

  “No problem.”

  They went through two different checkout lanes, and Jeremy paused to make sure the bagboy was helping Rebekah load up before he took off. He had a lot to do in that half hour, but he wasn’t going to make her deal with a whole cart of groceries by herself.

  Chapter Six

  Rebekah put a little bit of mousse in her hair, then used her blow dryer until her hair made the little wispy feathers she liked when she didn’t have to pull it back. She’d preheated her oven so it would be ready when Jeremy showed up, and thanks to the grocery shopping she’d just done, she had lettuce and tomatoes to make a salad. She rinsed the lettuce in the colander and had just chopped the tomatoes when she heard a knock at her door.

  “I’m sorry I’m late. Traffic was moving like a turtle—some guy’s alternator went out on Main Street,” Jeremy said when she let him in.

  “That’s okay. Gave me a chance to start a salad.” She took the pizza box from him, opened it, and put the pizza on a cookie sheet. While it baked, she finished making the salad.

  Her hands were busy doing one thing, but her brain was churning on another—now that she’d told Dr. Hunsaker her secret and hadn’t lost her job, it should be safe to tell Jeremy, right? And she should definitely do it before their relationship went even farther so he’d have a chance to back out. They were meshing together well, much better than she’d thought they would, and she could see this going somewhere. It wasn’t fair to let this continue without telling him the truth, even if the thought did make her a little nauseated.

  He leaned on the counter and watched her. “Is there anything I can do to help? I can wash something, maybe?”

  “No, it’s about done, but thanks. What movie did you bring?”

  He held up a video. “Star Wars.”

  “Let me guess—you have a little crush on Princess Leia.”

  “Nope. I like watching Alderaan blow up. It’s pretty cool.”

  Rebekah laughed. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool, even though it’s very sad. Here—set this on the table, would you?”

  He took the salad bowl from her. “How long until the pizza’s done?”

  “About twenty minutes.”

  “Then do you mind if we sit down and talk?”

  She followed him over to the couch and sat down, studying her fingernails instead of looking him in the face. It was time to be brave and hope he didn’t go running out of her apartment like it was on fire.

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You said you might be able to open up to me after you talked to your sister. Did you talk to her yet?”

  “Yeah, I did, and she thinks I can trust you.”

  “She’s a smart girl. Yes, you can trust me. I’ve got a ton of flaws and I’m told that I snore, and I’ve still got boxes in my living room, but yes, you can trust me.”

  She smiled. “I’m not worried about your boxes.”

  “Then what are you worried about?”

  “That you’ll think I’m crazy.”

  “Well, that’s easily solved. I already think you’re crazy.”

  She picked up a throw pillow and swatted his arm with it. “That’s not the way to encourage someone to open up to you!”

  “Sorry, sorry!” He held up his hands in self-defense. “You’re not crazy. Not even a little.”

  “But you haven’t heard what I need to tell you.”

  “That’s because you haven’t said anything yet.” He reached out and took her hand. “I’ll hear you out, whatever it is.”

  “Okay, but remember that you promised.”

  Once she started talking, it was like a cork had been popped, and she told him everything—about her father’s penchant for electronics, how a fuse had been blown or something on that crazy night, and how she’d been able to diagnose people ever since. Jeremy didn’t say one word the whole time she was talking, but she could see his emotions flitting across his face. He looked shocked and surprised, but he never looked disbelieving.

  “Wow,” he said when she was finished. “That’s . . . that’s so incredible.”

  “I told Dr. Hunsaker about it today and he didn’t fire me, so there’s that.”

  Jeremy ran his hand down his face. “I’ve never heard anything like this—my brain feels like it’s been turned into spaghetti. I don’t mean the good stuff, like your mom’s—I mean the crappy canned stuff.”

  The oven timer went off just then, and Rebekah was glad for the interruption. She lifted the pizza off the pan with a spatula, then cut it into slices. It wasn’t the most extravagant meal ever, but that’s not what either of them were in the mood for anyway.

  When she brought the pizza over to the table, Jeremy said, “Is that why you want to meet my brother? You want to see if there’s anything you can do to help him?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s a long shot—he’s probably had great medical care, and I can’t promise anything. But if I did see something . . .”

  “I can’t tell you how much that would mean to me,” Jeremy said. “My brother and I are pretty close. But you understand that because of all your sisters.” He paused. “Wait. Did one of them really have a ruptured ovarian cyst?”

  Rebekah felt heat rise in her cheeks. “No. That was the lie I told to cover up my power. I’m sorry—I don’t lie just fo
r the fun of it.”

  “I understand. I’d probably do the same thing.” He took a bite of pizza and swallowed it, then said, “I can’t believe how gutsy you’ve been through this whole thing.”

  “Gutsy? What do you mean?”

  “Well, you get struck by lightning—”

  “We weren’t actually struck.”

  “Don’t interrupt—you’re messing up the drama of my story. You get struck by lightning and you don’t even freak out about it—that’s gutsy. Then you go around saving people’s lives with your newfound powers, and you never think about making money off it—that’s heroic. I’m impressed. I’m seriously impressed.”

  “Except that we weren’t actually struck.”

  He sighed. “Fine. If you want to be nitpicky about the details.”

  “I’m not being nitpicky. I want to be accurate because you need to understand the full breadth and scope of what you’re getting into here. You’ve said you want to keep seeing me—I’ll understand if this changes your mind.” She really hoped it didn’t, but how could it not? She was kind of a freak.

  He took her hand and played with her fingers. “This definitely doesn’t change my mind. I don’t think anything could—unless you told me you were a drug lord or something, and even then, it would be a tough call. You don’t understand how amazing you are, Rebekah, and I felt that way before I knew about your gift. The gift is just like a layer of frosting on an already very delicious cake.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “You’re calling me a dessert? Is that what the feminist movement has given us—the right to be called dessert?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Of course not. I’m just really bad at coming up with analogies. I told you I have my flaws.”

  She smiled, loving the way he rose to the challenge when she baited him—and baiting him was fun. “All right, I will overlook the cake comment because I’m still thinking about what you said first, about how amazing I am.”