by Cate Beauman
Apparently Reagan had mistakenly thought he was going to let her off the hook easy. Not even close. “Doc’s keeping her distance.” Grinning at the idea, he picked up Faith. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
Faith cooed as her little fists moved about.
“Exactly. Reagan’s running scared.” He touched his finger to Faith’s nose and chin. “But I’m going to catch her.”
Faith cooed again.
“I agree completely. She doesn’t have a chance.”
The front door opened, and Jenny rushed in. “I’m runnin’ late. I’m sorry. Let me wash my hands and I’ll take Faith off your hands.”
“Take your time. We’re fine.” He had reports to finish for Ethan but nothing that couldn’t wait.
Jenny dashed passed them, turned on the sink, hurrying in seconds later to crouch down next to the baby. “Hello, Faith.” She slid her hand along the baby’s cheek. “Mommy’s home.”
“How’d it go?”
She shrugged. “Fine.”
He glanced over at the blue scrubs she’d set on the table, admiring the woman in the building next door even more. Reagan had let Jenny’s disappearing act slide and was moving forward, trying to give her a shot at a future. He needed to do the same. “Looks like you have some fancy new threads.”
She looked to where he gestured. “I guess.”
“I was thinking about making a snack. Do you want something?”
“No, I’m all right.”
“You sure? I make a mean chips and salsa—or we could do nachos.”
Faith made one of her sweet little sounds.
“Wait. What?” He lifted Faith to his ear. “Nachos?” He pulled her away, nodding to the baby. “You got it champ.” He looked at Jenny. “Faith says nachos.”
Jenny smiled. “I do like corn chips.”
“I’ll get us some.” He handed Faith to her mother. As he got to his feet, Faith started crying, and Jenny’s easy smile vanished. “I think she might be ready for a snack too,” he added.
“I’ll get it.” Jenny stood, bringing Faith with her to the kitchen.
He grabbed the chips from the cupboard and shredded cheese and salsa from the fridge, noting that the baby seemed to be a sore spot between him and their semi-permanent houseguest. “So, Reagan told me you were working on the GED pre-test last night.”
She shrugged as she measured out formula, holding Faith in her other arm.
He dumped chips onto a plate and heaped on the cheese. “How’d you do?”
“Fine.”
“Great.” He popped the food in the microwave, hitting the button for thirty seconds. “When do you think you’ll be ready for the test?”
“I ain’t sure. Reagan’s gonna help me with some of the math and grammar sections.”
And here was his opportunity to help Reagan give Jenny her chance. “I can give you a hand.”
“Reagan’s gonna do it. She says she’s real good with Algebra.”
He doubted there was little Reagan couldn’t do—except cook. “If you change your mind, I’m pretty good at Algebra too. Solving for ‘x’ or ‘y’ can actually be kind of fun.”
Jenny looked at him as if that was doubtful.
“You sure you don’t want to give it a try? We’ll snack, explore the wonders of high school math, bond.”
She grinned. “Maybe I could surprise Reagan with my learnin’.”
“Sounds like a plan. I can feed Ms. Fussy if you want to grab your book.”
Her smile disappeared. “I can take care of Faith on my own.”
Definitely a sore spot. “I agree. You’re doing great. I’ll gorge myself on cheesy chips while she knocks back her bottle. Let me know when you’re ready.”
She glanced at the floor, peeked up at him, and nodded.
He grabbed the food from the microwave, remembering the salsa, and sat at the table, biting into a crunchy piece of pure heaven.
“Here it is.” Jenny came out with the book, taking the seat at his side. She opened to the page she had bookmarked. “Reagan thought I should start with this here.”
He leaned closer to her side. “Quadratic and linear equations.”
“They don’t make much sense to me.”
He grabbed another chip, offering Jenny the plate, pleased when she took one. “You’ve come to the right place.” He picked up the pencil and explained the wonders of Algebra while Jenny fed the baby.
Chapter Thirteen
Reagan sat in front of her laptop, looking at the series of x-rays she’d taken earlier in the day—front and lateral images of Buck Ely’s lungs, full of fibroids. Sighing, she pushed her hands through her hair, overwhelmed by the results she kept finding. Since Henry’s diagnosing three weeks ago, she’d confirmed three more cases of progressive massive fibrosis. “Unbelievable,” she mumbled, rechecking her data, sure this couldn’t be right. Four men out of four were gravely ill, and one of those patients was a twenty-two-year-old man with a baby due any day.
“The last patient just headed out,” Shane said from the doorway.
“Huh?” She glanced up, her gaze trailing up his jeans and white Ethan Cooke Security t-shirt.
“The patient you had in exam room one. She left.”
“Great. Thanks.”
He stepped into her cubicle-sized office, coming up behind her and leaned down, looking at the images on her screen as she did. “Another one?”
“Yes.” She turned her head, realizing his face was mere inches from her own, and scooted her chair to the right. During the days since her…error in judgment, she’d managed to avoid alone time with Shane—until now. Between Jenny’s lessons, her ongoing research, and the slight uptick in patients, as well as helping with Faith, avoiding a moment like this had been fairly easy. They’d worked together everyday in the clinic, on occasion side by side, and he had been nothing but professional—not to mention a lifesaver. Shane and Jenny had quickly become invaluable members of her team. “We’ve got a huge problem here. Something’s very wrong.”
“It’s pretty insane.”
“It’s more than that. Four men, Shane. Four men right here in The Gap are dying, and their doctor never picked up on it.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I need to put a call in to Doctor Jacobson and let him know I’m sending another patient his way.” She rested her elbows on her desk, sighing as she rubbed at her temples.
Shane crouched down next to her. “What’s going on, Doc?”
“‘I’m overwhelmed,” she admitted, and it felt good to say so. She missed talking to him. “Between this,” She pointed to the x-rays on her screen, “major tooth decay, rampant diabetes, not to mention the three cases of early-stage heart disease. And that’s just this week.” She closed her eyes, squeezing at the painful tension in the back of her neck. “The need is so great.”
He took her hand. “And you’re helping.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“I do.” He laced their fingers. “What’d’ya say we go home, and I’ll cook for you.”
She studied his big, warm hand swallowing hers. “I really need to transcribe my notes from today.”
“They’ll be here tomorrow.” He slid his thumb along the sensitive skin of her wrist. “You need a break. You’ve been going hard for days on end. A night off will do you some good.”
Shane cooking and the thought of a long conversation where she could actually share her thoughts and feelings sounded like heaven, which made her want to pull free of his gentle grip. She was too comfortable with the man staring into her eyes, despite her mistake—and that worried her. “I probably shouldn’t.”
“One night, Doc.”
It was just one night. It wouldn’t hurt to recharge her batteries a little. She gave in to what he offered and what she desperately needed. “I guess the notes could wait.”
“Good call.” He stood, pulling her to her feet, not bothering to drop her hands or move when her breasts brushed his hard ches
t.
“Shane.”
“Yeah?”
“Take a couple of steps back.”
“Will you swing with me tonight?”
Another thing she missed. “Will you keep your lips to yourself?”
He smiled. “If you want me to.”
“I definitely do.”
He shook his head, frowning. “You definitely want me to kiss you?”
She smiled. “You know that’s not what I—” The front door opened, and she shoved him away.
“Doc Reagan.”
Reagan rushed around Shane, recognizing Daisy’s voice raised in alarm, and hurried into the waiting room. “Ms. Daisy.”
“Doc Reagan—”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes. We just got back from Lexington.”
“Oh, great. How did the appointment go?”
“You’s was wrong,” Henry accused, his chest heaving from the first stair. “You’s was wrong.”
“Hush, Henry,” Daisy scolded.
Confused, Reagan guided Daisy further into the room. “Come on in and tell me what’s going on.”
“We saw Doc Jacobson. He ran all the tests, and he’s sayin’ Henry don’t have black lung. He’s got himself COPD.”
“COPD?”
Daisy nodded. “Yes.”
“I won’t be listenin’ to no women doctors no more,” Henry spewed as he climbed the last step, struggling for his breath. “You’s put me in my death bed, foolish girl.”
“Hey.” Shane stepped up to her side.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “Mr. Henry, I don’t think you—”
“Women ain’t paid to think,” he spat, pointing his finger as he glared. “Here you been tellin’ all these men they got black lung. They be riskin’ their jobs for nothin’.”
“Mr. Henry—”
“Three family men may be outta jobs ‘cause you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
“That’s enough,” Shane warned, his green eyes going hot.
She shook her head, stepping in front of Shane, worrying far less about Henry’s insults than Doctor Jacobson’s diagnosis. “Mr. Henry, I don’t know what to say. I was sure—”
“I got nothin’ more to be sayin’ to you, girl.”
“Doc Reagan.” Daisy took her arm. “I’m sure you did your best, but Henry’s not dyin’. He’s gonna get better. We’ll be seein’ Doc Jacobson from now on. Good day to you.”
The door closed behind Daisy, and Reagan stood where she was, trying to swallow over the ball of emotion. She was wrong. She shook her head. But she wasn’t. Henry had progressive massive fibrosis.
“Reagan—”
“Go ahead on home.” She moved back to her office, taking her seat, pulling up four sets of x-rays on her screen. “You and Jenny should eat without me.”
“Doc—” He rested his hands on her shoulders.
She shrugged him away. “I need to look this over.”
“Reagan—”
She blinked, desperate to keep her tears at bay. “Please just leave me alone.”
He sighed. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
“Okay.” He walked to the door, hesitated, then left.
She closed her eyes and rested her face in her hands as her breath rushed in and out too quickly. She was wrong—again. She’d been positive of her diagnosis in all four cases. They were identical. “How can this be?” With a trembling finger, she clicked on the mouse, zooming in on the cobweb-like matter crowding Henry’s right lung, sure this couldn’t be right, but she’d made a mistake like this before. She’d been certain of Mabel’s condition too.
You killed my baby!
The words echoed through her head like a nightmare, and she rushed to her feet with the surge of panic. “No. No,” she whispered, sitting again, needing to get to the bottom of where she’d gone so wrong.
~~~~
Shane sat across from Jenny at the table, glancing out the window toward the clinic, waiting for Reagan to come home. He’d held off dinner for as long as possible, hoping she would join them, but thirty minutes turned into forty-five, and Jenny had wandered into the kitchen, foraging through the fridge, declaring herself half starved.
Reluctantly, he’d plated up the meatloaf and potatoes, debating whether he should go check on Doc, but he’d taken his seat instead, knowing she needed her space.
Chewing another bite, he hardly noticed the delicious flavors of the new recipe Sophie sent along as his gaze wandered toward the clinic again, remembering the devastated look on Reagan’s face when that bastard Henry told her she was wrong. She’d been upset, as upset as he’d ever seen her, and there wasn’t much he could do to help, mostly because Reagan wouldn’t let him. He forked up more meat and potatoes, catching Jenny’s eye, sending her an absent smile.
She glanced over her shoulder toward the clinic. “Reagan usually ain’t—isn’t,” she corrected, “this late.”
“She said she had some stuff to do.”
“Why’re you lookin’ out the window every five seconds then?”
“Why are you so nosy?” he said without heat.
She smiled. “I’m just curious.”
“How’d you do with the math problems we discussed this morning?”
“Okay, I think. I’m hopin’ you’ll look ‘em over.”
During the couple of weeks since their first study session, Jenny had become more relaxed. She actively sought him out for help with her studies or when she needed a hand with Faith. “I can do that after we finish up here.” He scooped up a bite of the potatoes she’d made. “These are really good by the way.”
She smiled again. “I’m a pretty good cook.” The phone rang. “I’ll get it.” She dropped her fork and dashed off like any teenager would. Jenny was a mother, a student, and Reagan’s unofficial intern, but she was still very much a child. Now that she was here and they seemed to be finding their way, he was glad she’d come back. He lifted his water glass and set it down as the front door opened.
Reagan walked in, toeing off her shoes, her long hair curtaining her face.
“We kept a plate warm for you.”
She glanced up, her face pale and drawn, her eyes weary. “I’m not hungry.”
“Terry’s wantin’ me to meet—” Jenny stopped short, frowning. “Reagan, you’re not lookin’ so good.”
“I’m fine.” She forced a smile. “I’m a little tired after the last few days.”
“We fixed you a plate—meatloaf. I made the potatoes. And there’s green beans.”
“That sounds wonderful, but I think I’ll save it for my lunch tomorrow. I’m going to bed.” She walked off, her strained smile vanishing as she passed Shane’s chair.
Jenny sat back down, her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with her? I never seen her look like that before.”
“I think she’s stressed out and tired.” And he had every intention of checking on her in a minute. “What were you saying about Terry?”
“He wants me to meet him.”
Jenny had gone off to visit Terry twice since she’d been back. Reagan had warned Shane to tread lightly where Faith’s father was concerned, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t ask questions. “Why doesn’t he ever come to the cabin?”
She shrugged as she swallowed her bite. “He’s intimidated, I guess.”
“Doesn’t he want to see his daughter?”
“He’s wantin’ me to bring her with me one of these times.”
“What do you guys do?”
“Talk and stuff.”
It was the “and stuff” he was worried about. “Are you two having sex?”
Her eyes grew huge. “Shane,” she drew out in a mortified tone as her cheeks burned bright.
“Jenny,” he repeated back the same way. “I just don’t want you doing anything you’re going to regret.”
“No. We ain’t havin’ sex.” She huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes. “He wants to,
but after birthin’ Faith I’m not ready.”
“Good. I hope you’ll talk to Reagan or even me if you decide you are.”
“I’m not fixin’ to make more babies anytime soon, and I’m not gettin’ married neither. I got plans. In fact, I’ve been wantin’ you to tell me about Los Angeles.”
“You want to go to LA?”
She shrugged. “I know I don’t want to stay here. You’ll be leavin’ before long, and Reagan won’t stay forever.”
The idea of having Jenny and Faith close by wasn’t bad. “Tell you what, I’ll keep an eye on Ms. Fussy while you go see Terry. When you get back, I’ll show you the area where I work and live via the wonderful world of Google Maps.”
She beamed. “Okay.”
When she left for the next couple hours, he wanted her thinking about her future—and Faith’s. If she was looking forward to a fresh start, she would be less easily persuaded by a boy thinking about his dick.
“I’m going to go check on Reagan before Faith wakes up,” he said. “Be careful.”
“Yes, daddy.” She blinked, smirking.
“I’m not your daddy. I’m your friend.”
“You’re right.” She smiled as she took a huge bite of her meal.
“See you when you get back.” He walked down the hall and knocked on Reagan’s door.
She didn’t answer.
“Reagan.” He twisted the knob and stepped into the dark.
“I’m trying to sleep.”
He closed the door behind him, squinting, waiting for his eyes to adjust. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.”
He sat on the edge of the bed next to her. “I don’t know, Doc. For some reason I’m just not buying it.” He turned on the bedside lamp, the pale light accentuating her pallid color.
She groaned. “Shane, go away.” Rolling to her other side, she put the pillow over her head.
He stood, looking down at her wearing the jeans and black shirt she’d had on at the clinic. “If that’s what you want.”
“I do,” she said, her voice muffled.
