“Then let me show you around.”
He led her through a group of tourists, parents and kids, all wearing hats and waving sand toys.
“It’s high season,” he explained. “But the place I’m taking you to is off the main drag.”
They walked down the main street, past clapboard buildings with lace-edged curtains and cheerful flowers in window boxes. Small restaurants boasted outdoor tables shielded by umbrellas, and signs for beer on tap and happy-hour appetizers.
Down at the boardwalk, seagulls wheeled and dipped overhead, watching carefully for any bit of dropped food or an overly adventurous crab.
“This way.” Huck gestured.
They stopped at a cart, sheltered beneath a tree that looked a million years old. No one appeared to be around.
“This is it?”
“Yeah. Hang on. My buddy’s around here somewhere.”
Sage looked at the refrigerated cart, with its padlocked lid. It appeared that someone had rigged a freezer to a generator and then put the whole thing on wheels.
“Here he is,” said Huck. “Sage, meet my buddy Fredo. Fredo, this is Sage. She’s new at the ranch. What have you got today?”
“A treat,” said Fredo. He wore a stained bandana tied over blond dreadlocks. Mirrored sunglasses and a wifebeater with the yin-yang symbol drawn on in magic marker completed the outfit.
“Fredo is friends with all the local artisans,” said Huck. “No red-dye-two popsicles or neon-colored freezies here. He brings in homemade ice cream, the real deal. And it changes, from week to week.”
Fredo stuck a key into the padlock. It didn’t turn. He hit it with the side of his fist. Sage didn’t see what happened to the key, but the lid popped open.
“You really ought to see Jamie about that lock,” said Huck.
“Ah, Jamie.” Fredo’s nostrils flared. “Give the lady a kiss from me.”
“Kiss her yourself. Is that caramel?”
Fredo’s shaggy eyebrows lifted high. “Not just any caramel. This, my friend, is cajeta. Mexican caramel sauce. You’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”
He shoved a laminated list into Sage’s hand. “Here’s the whole list. Subject to availability. First come first served. Management reserves the right to deny service, etc.”
Sage looked at the list. It filled the short page, front and back. There were no pictures.
“Good selection, huh?” Huck nodded at the list.
“What are you having?” She handed the sheet back to him.
“That’s a tough one. Anything catch your eye?”
Huck and Fredo looked at her and she felt like she was in Mrs. Capstock’s English class again, with everyone waiting for her to answer.
“Ice cream is ice cream.” She shoved her hands into her pockets and looked toward the beach. “Doesn’t really matter to me.”
Fredo smiled. He had stubble on his chin and wide, sensuous lips. The kind of guy who caused trouble.
The kind of trouble Sage no longer had any interest in.
“I’ll give you a sample dish,” he said. “You look like you’re on the fence about my wares. I need to convince you.”
He reached down, his shoulder muscles rippling. The edge of his shirt slid up, revealing a stretch of lithe, bronzed flesh above his board shorts.
“Whatever.” She saw Huck watching her and felt her face grow warm.
Fredo served her a scoop of peach ice cream, a green, nut-studded flavor she guessed was pistachio, and a dark chocolate laced with thick caramel.
Huck took the Mexican caramel, said good-bye to Fredo, and led Sage to a shady area on the grass, in view of the beach.
“Come on, admit it,” he said. “Is this the best ice cream you’ve ever had, or what?”
“It’s pretty good. How’s that Mexican stuff?”
“Cajeta. Unbelievable. Here.”
He held out his spoon. She hesitated.
“Oh, come on,” he insisted. “I’ve had my shots.”
She let him feed her the mouthful. It was creamy smooth, with a hint of rum.
“It’s okay,” she said, when she could talk again.
Huck reached across and stuck his spoon into her dish.
“Hey!” she said. “That’s mine.”
“Yup. And we’re sharing.”
He put the spoon in his mouth, without taking his eyes off hers. He licked his lips, and Sage felt her mouth go dry.
A chill crept over her bare arms. She hadn’t made him for a perv. “If you brought me here thinking—”
“Relax, Sage,” said Huck. His face grew serious. “I’m not a creeper. We’re here to talk about something else.”
“What?” She didn’t want to talk about anything with him anymore.
“Nothing heavy,” he said. “I thought we could share coping strategies.”
“Have you got a kid tucked away somewhere too?” she asked sarcastically.
He gave a little huff of laughter. “No, not so lucky as that. No. It’s just, I have trouble reading too.”
Sage froze. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re good, I’ll give you that. But you, Sage Welles, can’t fool me. You didn’t fool Daphne, either. Want to argue?”
He shoved the laminated list from Fredo’s into her hand.
“Read me the first three flavors on the list.”
Sage looked down, feeling like a trapped animal. She wasn’t having this conversation.
“Chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla,” she said. Then she got to her feet, tossed the remains of her ice cream into the trash, and started back up the road to the ranch.
It was probably time to feed the baby anyway.
Chapter Thirteen
“My sister gave me a gift certificate for a stay at Sanctuary Ranch the year my husband passed away. A week of peace and quiet was exactly what my grieving heart needed. There’s something healing about this place. I’ll be back.”
—MaryAnn Carlisle
Aiden sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, listening to the warm-up notes of the dawn chorus outside his window. The dream that had awakened him this time had a fresh twist. The sharp-toothed thing was still there, laughter still bubbled from the red car, but this time, Haylee was at the wheel, her wild curls streaming behind her in the wind as she disappeared over a hill, and what woke him was the thump of his hand hitting the night table as he reached out for her.
At least this time he hadn’t knocked over the lamp. He’d had to get one of the nurses to pull out the slivers of broken bulb from his heel after the last one.
No point going back to sleep now. He got up, showered and dressed, then stopped at the local coffee shop for a tray of iced caramel lattes to go. For him, it had to be straight-up black coffee, and hot, but the staff, the younger ones especially, loved theirs sweet and thick.
“Dr. Mac!” called Duane from his station in the entrance. “Did you bring treats?”
“I did indeed, my good man,” he said, handing Duane one of the containers. “Are you always here this early?”
Duane lifted one massive shoulder. “I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d get a jump on the day.”
“Likewise,” said Aiden. “How was the ER last night, do you know?”
“Quiet. The nursing home sent Mrs. Travers in by ambulance again. Her tricky heart. They gave her a recharge and she left an hour ago with her daughter, chatting up a storm.”
Atrial fibrillation, Aiden recalled. For eighty-three, the woman was in great health, except for a fainting spell caused by an irregular heartbeat. She’d been successfully cardioverted twice now in the ER and was in line to see a specialist.
“A few in, a few out. No one needed direction, so I worked on my Sudoku. Thanks for treats, Dr. Mac.” He took a deep pull on the straw. “You have a great day.”
At the nurses’ station in the triage room, three women leaned over one computer monitor, while a radiology technician leaned against a counter, watching them from behi
nd.
“Enjoying the view?” said Aiden.
The young man straightened up in a guilty flash. “I’m, uh, waiting for a patient.”
“Really.” Aiden hoped he didn’t look that transparent when he was around Haylee.
“Julie,” called the guy, “you got that patient ready for transport yet?”
“Go away, Manny,” said the nurse Aiden presumed was Julie, without turning around. “I’m not going out with you.”
Ouch. Julie was tall and blond in an icy Scandinavian way. Aiden couldn’t blame the kid for being smitten with her, but he was nowhere near her league.
Another one, a skinny woman with a cap of dark hair like a seal, turned around. “Dr. Mac! Are those for us?”
Aiden grinned as he passed out the drinks. Sandie-the-seal, he told himself. He was trying hard to memorize all the names but every time a new line came on, he had to start over. “I know who really runs this joint.”
The technician muttered something beneath his breath and slouched out of the room.
“Don’t mind Manny. He’s just jealous.” Brenda, a curvaceous brunette with dancing eyes handed him a printout of the ongoing cases.
“Nice, quiet evening,” he commented.
“Bite your tongue!” Sandie swatted his arm. “You’ll jinx us. We want it to stay slow so we’ll get sent up to Peds.”
“You want to go because of the cute single dad up there with his asthmatic kid,” Brenda explained, batting her eyes at Aiden. “I’m good staying right here.”
Occupational hazards. They came in all shapes and sizes.
The phone rang and Julie left to answer it. “Your subtlety is breathtaking, Bren.”
“What have you got for me?” asked Aiden before Brenda-the-bunny could say more. She was attractive and sexy but she was trying too hard. Maybe she was one of those women who went into nursing not because they were attracted to medicine, so much as they were attracted to medical men. It was an attitude that couldn’t die out fast enough, as far as he was concerned.
Maybe part of his attraction to Haylee was the fact that she was so determined to resist him. Her life was plenty full already; she wasn’t sitting around, waiting for a man to give her life purpose and direction.
What was it about the male psyche that was programmed to do the chasing, rather than be chased?
Maybe, to paraphrase Groucho Marx, men weren’t interested in women who would accept people like them.
“Twenty-four-year-old woman who scalded herself on the teakettle is in bed three,” said Sandie, all business now. “The eight-year-old girl in bed two, suspected metacarpal fracture, is in X-ray right now.”
“The one Manny missed?”
“By a country mile,” said Brenda. “He’ll bring her back with a story of how they got their orders mixed up or something like that. He’s totally in love with Julie.”
Julie shot Brenda a disgusted look.
“Fifty-two-year-old male waiting on labs in bed five,” continued Sandie. “Suspected gall bladder attack.”
“Thank you, people,” said Aiden. “I shall commence healing.”
“Hang on,” said Julie, with the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder. She tapped the keyboard rapidly, then hung up the phone and turned to the group.
“Eighteen-month-old, up with croup all night, mom is frantic. They’ll be here in ten.”
Nice of her to give them some warning, he thought. “Let me know when they arrive. Until then, I’ll get started with”—he consulted the list—“Mr. Chapman in five.”
“You got it, Doc,” said Julie.
But before any of them could do anything, Manny came rushing back through the doors.
“Bring a gurney,” he said. “Duane’s collapsed.”
* * *
“You didn’t know he was diabetic.” Julie’s voice was tight, clipped, and full of righteous indignation. Julie-the-slayer, she was in Aiden’s mind now. She bent over Duane’s big, slack arm, tapping to raise a vein.
“You think I’d have given him that Frappuccino if I’d have known?” He grabbed the IV set from Julie’s hands. “I’ll do it.”
She’d already poked him twice and missed.
A collapsed vein was no challenge for Aiden. Anger sharpened his aim, steadied his hand, and in moments, blood flashed in the port, indicating success. He taped it in place quickly, then stepped back while Julie attached the fluids and finished securing the system. He strode away before he could say something he’d regret.
It wasn’t Julie’s fault.
Duane should have known better. He’d probably have given himself an extra dose of insulin because of the sweet drink.
Damn it. He felt like an idiot. Why hadn’t someone told him? A caffeine and sugar milkshake was one of the worst things a man in Duane’s condition should have. Might as well have added an antifreeze shooter.
Aiden leaned against the wall to collect himself.
Duane Evers was practically an institution around here. You’d think someone would have mentioned to the new ER attending that he was also a brittle, noncompliant diabetic.
“You okay, Dr. Mac?”
Brenda peered around the corner, a frown on her face.
Aiden stripped off his latex gloves and threw them into the trash. Then he took a deep breath. It was such a relief to feel nothing more than a reasonable, clean, clear anger. No misplaced guilt, no paralyzing fear, no paranoia, no panic. His emotional response was appropriate for the situation.
Gayle Chen should see him now, he thought. She’d been asking around about him, there was no secret about it. He understood and respected her need to protect the well-being of Sunset Bay Memorial patients, but at some point she’d have to stand back and trust that he too had their best interests at heart, and was fully capable of handling whatever situation came his way.
The man with the upper GI pain deserved his full attention, as did all his patients. Carrying upset from case to case helped no one. Compartmentalization was the only way.
He stepped up to his curtain. “Good morning, Mr. Chapman,” he said, then stopped in surprise and looked down again at his sheet. “You work at Sanctuary Ranch?”
The woman beside him got to her feet. “Good morning, Dr. Mac. Ezra’s our handyman. He keeps a low profile. Would rather die in a corner like a dog than admit he’s sick.”
It was the cook. Daphne-the-dangerous.
“Does Olivia know you’re here?” he asked. Was Haylee around here somewhere too?
“Of course she does,” snapped Daphne. “Who do you think sent us?”
Aiden lifted the sheet over Ezra’s abdomen. “I hear you’ve got belly pain, Mr. Chapman.”
“It’s probably nothing.” Ezra shifted uncomfortably on the narrow bed. “I’ve had it before. It’ll pass.”
“This is more than gas pains, you man.” Daphne rolled her eyes, saying the word like it was the worst insult she could bestow on him. “He’s been in pain for days now, but wouldn’t admit it until he doubled over after filling his gut with cinnamon buns. Idiot. He’s got a history of gall bladder troubles. Runs in his family. Doesn’t have the sense to come in out of the rain.”
She shook her head in disgust, but Aiden wasn’t fooled. She’d have had to leave the breakfast service to bring him here. She wouldn’t do that unless she cared.
Aiden did a quick exam, palpating the man’s belly and listening for bowel sounds.
Then he straightened up. “Mr. Chapman—”
“Please, call me Ezra.” The man’s voice was thin and tight with pain.
“Ezra, you’re lucky Daphne was looking out for you.”
“You see!” Daphne crossed her arms over her generous chest and glared at Ezra. “I was right.”
“Not exactly,” said Aiden. “Daphne, would you mind giving us a minute?”
“Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of her,” said Ezra. His face was sheened lightly with perspiration, no surprise.
“Yo
u’ve got appendicitis,” said Aiden. “We’ll run some tests to confirm, but I’m going to get the nurses to prep you for surgery while we wait. Given that you’ve had symptoms for some time, I suspect it’s dangerously close to rupturing.”
Daphne sank into the chair as if deflated.
“Is there someone else you’d like us to call?” asked Aiden.
Ezra looked at Daphne. “No.”
“Give me your phone,” said Daphne, her face pale beneath the suntan.
“No, please, Daph. Don’t bother them.”
“They’re your kids, Ezra. You have to tell them.”
“I don’t want to worry them. Izzy just started a new job and Micah’s cramming to get through summer school.”
“Look,” said Aiden. “This is no time for an argument.”
“Oh, we’re not arguing,” said Daphne. “I’m humoring him. He’s entertaining me. It’s how we roll.”
She fished Ezra’s cell phone out of his jacket pocket, then gathered his clothes and shoved them into the large plastic bag supplied by the admitting clerk.
“Will you be doing the surgery, Dr. Mac?” asked Ezra.
A tech arrived pulling a stainless-steel cart laden with equipment.
“I’m not sure,” said Aiden. “But I’ll be around. Time for your blood draw. Let’s get this ball rolling.”
Aiden backed out of the room.
“Ezra Chapman,” he heard Daphne say, “I could kill you right now.”
* * *
A cluster of scrub-suited staff members milled about the triage centre when Aiden arrived at work the next morning. His night had still been interrupted, but he felt surprisingly refreshed. The nightmare had been short and he’d been able to go back to sleep.
The progress cheered him but he doubted it had anything to do with Haylee’s dogs. All she’d had him do so far was spend time with them, walking them on the beach, grooming them, practicing obedience commands. She kept coming back to the Border collie, Buddy. He was a very smart dog, friendly, too but Aiden had the feeling he was watching the horizon, waiting for something.
Aiden’s progress wasn’t due to the dogs.
More likely, it was Haylee herself.
“Dr. Mac,” said Julie-the-slayer, waving him over. She seemed to have forgiven him for Duane. “Hope you had your Wheaties this morning. We’ve got a single-vehicle MVA on 101 arriving shortly.”
Sunset Bay Sanctuary Page 17
