by Marta Perry
Had she been unwittingly sending him signals that day? A flush crept into her cheeks at the thought. Surely not. And yet, why else had it happened? Unless she was completely kidding herself—imagining something that Jake hadn’t felt at all.
Somehow she couldn’t quite buy that. She’d heard his breath quicken, seen his eyes darken. That had been real.
No matter what Jake had or hadn’t felt, one thing was perfectly clear. She couldn’t keep telling herself that her feelings were just the remnants of a long-ago crush. She was attracted to the man, despite all the things she disliked about him. Stupid, but whoever said attraction was a rational thing?
She scrawled her signature at the bottom of the run report and handed a copy to the receptionist. Maybe that wasn’t what she’d expected to happen at the picnic, but some good had come out of it, too. The family had gotten to know Jake a little, and he’d agreed to help with Manuela. Two positives, to balance one big negative.
Maybe she should stop trying to avoid the man. If she did, perhaps she’d stop blowing his image up in her mind. She could start seeing him as a human being.
She shoved away from the counter. What was taking Jeff so long? There hadn’t been that much restocking to do. She crossed the receiving area toward the supply room. She was ready for her morning coffee, even if he wasn’t.
She’d nearly reached the door when she saw the stocky figure of her partner heading toward her, empty-handed.
“What’s up? Aren’t you finished yet?”
He shook his head. “We’re finished, all right. We aren’t permitted to restock the unit from the hospital supplies any longer.”
“What? We’ve always done that. Who says we can’t?”
“I do.” Jake came through the door quickly, his lab coat flapping at his movement. His lean face was set, as if he were ready to do battle. “It’s a new hospital policy.”
“Since when?” She couldn’t keep the edge from her voice. “We’ve always—”
He made a slicing motion with his hand, cutting her off. “It doesn’t matter what you’ve always done, Ms. Flanagan. The E.R. has been directed to cut costs, and that’s what we’re doing. I’m afraid you’ll have to sacrifice along with the rest of us.”
That formal use of her name was probably a warning, reminding her of the difference in their status. Count to five, she warned herself. Better yet, count to ten.
“It hardly seems fair to penalize the paramedics.” It took a determined effort to keep her voice calm. “After all, some of our materials stay here, one way or another, every time we deliver a patient.”
Something, some small flicker in his eyes, told her she’d scored with that point. Then his mouth tightened.
“Sorry. You can do a direct replacement of any sheets that are left here. That’s all.”
Generous of him, since otherwise the hospital would end up with all their sheets. “What about other supplies? We always—”
He took a step toward her, his tall form screening her from the interested gazes of the E.R. receptionist, one custodian and two candy stripers who’d paused to watch. “Don’t say another word.” His voice was low, and those blue eyes were arctic. “Don’t push me into a situation where I have to file a complaint about you, Terry. I don’t want to do that.”
Didn’t he? She clamped her lips shut tightly. Could have fooled her on that one. She glared back at him, but in the end, it was her gaze that dropped.
Because like it or not, he was right. She couldn’t have an open battle with him in front of staff members, no matter what she felt. She swallowed hard and managed to nod.
All right. When there was no choice, you’d better accept the inevitable as gracefully as possible. Maybe a complaint from the fire chief about the new policy would make Jake reconsider.
She walked quickly toward the door, her partner closing in behind her as if he couldn’t wait to get out of there, either. Whether or not the chief could get this policy reversed, one thing was now clear. Her naive thought that maybe she and Jake could be friends had been blasted to pieces.
By the time she reached the clinic late that afternoon, Terry felt like the ragged end of a rope. They’d done two nursing home transports, gone clear across town on a false alarm, dealt with one combative drunk who’d taken a swing at Jeff, and hauled a reluctant elderly man with a possible broken leg down three flights of stairs. Just another day, but her back ached and the success she’d had with the heart attack patient had receded to the back of a long list.
“You can’t get the big save every day,” Jeff had commented when he’d headed for his car at the end of the shift. “At least we didn’t lose anybody today.”
He was right, of course. And she knew herself well enough to know that her irritability wasn’t caused by the job. It had its roots in her encounter with Jake.
She pulled into a rutted parking space at the side of the clinic. At least neither of the other two cars already parked there belonged to him. Maybe she could go back to evading the man, since nothing else seemed to work.
She planted a smile on her face and headed for the door. It was nearly five, and experience had shown them that the next couple of hours would be the busy ones, as workers came in from the fields. This was also the first day they were running a bus, borrowed from the church, to the smaller migrant camps in the area, and they had no way of knowing how many people would show up on that.
She paused for a moment as she pulled open the screen door, just to enjoy the sight. What had once been a junk-filled shed now looked like a real clinic. The whitewashed walls and bright lights were the biggest factor, but the small touches her mother had engineered certainly made a difference—bright posters on the wall, a basket of fruit on the desk, a homey braided rug in the waiting area.
Jim Dawson and Carole Peterson, an EMT and a nurse practitioner who had been among her first volunteers, were at the battered desk going over paperwork.
“Hi, Terry.” Jim grinned. “I know that aching back stance. How many people did you haul downstairs today?”
She stopped rubbing the small of her back. “Just one, but he weighed enough for three.”
Carole waved a form. “If we get anyone from the other camps, should we indicate which one on the intake form?”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but it sounds like a good idea. Will you make a note of it on the volunteer hot sheet?”
Carole nodded. The hot sheet had become their lifeline, letting each volunteer know what new issues or solutions had come up during the previous shift. Working with volunteers required a totally different approach from working in the E.R. Had Jake figured that out yet? She doubted it.
The door from the back room swung open, and Manuela hurried through, arms loaded with clean towels. The stack began to tremble, and Terry hurried to help her.
“Hola, Manuela. It’s good to see you. Are you giving us a hand today?” Maybe this would be a good opportunity to talk to the girl about her hopes, rather than depending on Jake to get around to doing it.
“You didn’t know?” Manuela’s grin nearly split her face.
Terry blinked. That had to be the first time she’d seen a genuine smile from Manuela, who normally carried more than her fair share of trouble. “Know what?”
“I have a job helping at the clinic. I work every day now. Dr. Jake hired me.”
“No. I didn’t know.” When had all this happened? And why hadn’t Jake said anything to her? Surely, as the clinic organizer, she should have been consulted.
Sour grapes, the voice of her conscience commented. You’re just jealous because you didn’t think of it.
Manuela began stacking towels with as much reverence as if the future of medicine depended on how straight they were. “Dr. Jake came last night to the camp. He talked to me, and he talked to my parents.” Her face clouded slightly. “Papa was not sure this was a good thing, but Dr. Jake is paying me more than I could make in the fields, so he agreed.”
“That’s won
derful.” She forced warmth into her voice. Of course she was happy for the girl, and she had to admit, it was an inspired idea. If Manuela did have the makings of a medical professional, they’d find out. “We certainly can use you.”
“You will show me how to do things, won’t you, Terry? I want to do everything perfectly.”
For wonderful Dr. Jake’s sake, no doubt. “Of course I will.” She gave the girl a quick hug. “We’ll make a paramedic out of you yet. Or do you have your sights set on something else?”
“That would be great, to help people the way you do. But I don’t think it will be possible. Papa says I must remember that we will be leaving in a few weeks.” She smoothed her hand over the surface of a towel. “This won’t last.”
Terry’s throat tightened. Manuela deserved her chance, and she was a jerk for feeling irritated just because it came from someone else.
“No matter how long you’re here, you’ll learn a lot. Once you’ve learned something, nobody can take that away. It will go with you wherever you are.”
Manuela nodded happily. “And I have Dr. Jake to thank for it.”
She kept the smile pinned to her face with an effort. Maybe she’d better go and inventory supplies before she blurted out something she shouldn’t about Manuela’s new hero.
The storeroom was clean, quiet, and well-organized. Taking the clipboard that hung inside the door, she began checking supplies, jotting down notes as to anything they might need.
Unfortunately, that just reminded her of the episode with the supplies at the hospital. Really, how did Jake expect them to do their work, when—
Okay, enough. She was letting the man take over her thoughts far too much.
Forgive me, Father. I’m obsessing about something I can’t control. And I’m actually envious that Jake thought of a way to help Manuela and I didn’t. Please, forgive me.
There, she’d said it. Unfortunately she knew perfectly well that there was another step she had to take. She had to thank him for thinking of this gift for Manuela, to say nothing of the fact that he was undoubtedly paying her out of his own pocket. Even if they disagreed on other things, in this he deserved credit.
And she’d have a chance to make good on her decision, because she could hear his voice in the other room. Squaring her shoulders, she marched through the door.
Jake stood at the desk, talking with Carole and Jim. In jeans and a rugby shirt, he looked considerably more casual than he had at the E.R. that morning, but no less intimidating. He didn’t turn, but she thought his shoulders stiffened when she approached.
The words didn’t seem to be coming, but fortunately for her, the bus pulled up just then. Word of the clinic’s work must be spreading through the camps, because at least twenty people began filing through the door.
Thank You, Lord, she murmured silently, and hurried forward to begin triage, as Manuela rushed to translate. Thank You for giving us this opportunity to help.
An hour later, things had calmed down considerably. She found herself assisting Jake as he stitched a cut on the forehead of an elderly field worker. She watched his precise, even stitches and tried to find the words she had to say. She may as well blurt it right out.
“I wanted to say—”
He glanced at her, and she was momentarily thrown off her stride by the frosty edge in his gaze.
She cleared her throat. “You’re doing a great thing for Manuela. I know she appreciates it. And I do, too.” She shouldn’t sound so reluctant. “I wish I’d thought of it.”
“The important thing is that it happens, not who thought of it.” His voice was cool.
“I know that.” At least, she knew it rationally, if not emotionally. “She’s so excited, and she really is an asset. I just—I know you must be paying her out of your own pocket. Maybe I can get some donations—”
“Forget it. I can handle it.”
“Right. Okay.” She took a breath. Of course he could handle it. He probably had a sizable trust fund backing up whatever he decided to do. It must be nice to be able to give without feeling a pinch.
Or was it? She handed him the dressing. Did it mean more when what you gave pinched you a bit? She hadn’t given that any thought before, but it was something to ponder. Jesus had certainly thought more of the poor woman who’d given her last two pennies than the rich who gave out of their abundance.
Jake finished the job, nodded in satisfaction, and turned to her as the patient moved away. “You don’t think much of me, do you, Terry?”
She fumbled the tray, nearly knocking over the antiseptic. “I don’t know what you mean. I just told you how much I appreciate what you’re doing for Manuela.”
“Did you?” His smile was wry. “Somehow I had the feeling you were thinking something else.”
She took a deep breath. She needed to do this right. “I know we’ve had our share of disagreements.” That was putting it mildly. “But you’ve gone the extra mile for Manuela, and I’m grateful.”
He looked at her for a long moment, as if measuring the depth of her sincerity. Then he nodded, and his face seemed to relax a little. “Look, I think we need to clear the air about what happened earlier.”
For an instant she thought he meant those moments in the barn, and panic swept through her. Then she realized that he must be talking about the incident at the E.R.
“If we’re clearing the air, I have to go on record that I think your new policy is wrong.”
“I think it’s wrong, as well.”
She could only gape at him. “Then why are you doing it?”
Again that wry smile. “Do you really think I have free rein with what happens in the E.R.?”
“Why not? You’re the boss, aren’t you?”
“It’s not that simple.” He frowned, and she had the sense that he was choosing his words carefully. “I’d like this position to become permanent, but in order for that to happen, I have to please a lot of people. And one of them happens to be very concerned with cutting costs in the E.R.”
“Morley. I know. But why—”
“But surely it doesn’t have to be your program that feels the pinch?” His eyebrows lifted.
“I didn’t mean that, exactly.” Hadn’t she?
“I’m going to have to do some things I don’t want to do, I’m afraid. I’m willing to take the heat for that.” His gaze held hers. “But I’d like to know you’d give me the benefit of the doubt, at least some of the time. What do you say?”
What could she say, especially when he was looking at her as if what she thought really mattered to him?
“All right.” She couldn’t seem to look away from his face, and she didn’t want to think about what that betrayed about her feelings. “I promise.”
Chapter Seven
“There you go, sweetheart.” Terry smiled at the tot who’d just received her immunization, getting a shy grin in return. The child might not understand what she’d said, but she did understand the red lollipop Terry passed out as a reward for getting immunizations up to date.
The little girl skipped away. The next child in line looked at her lollipop, screwed up his face and edged toward the chair. Terry guided him into place gently.
“This would be a lot easier if we had Manuela here to translate,” she said, passing the premeasured immunization to Jake.
He nodded, frowning a little, and then replacing the frown with a grin as he approached the child. “Hola, amigo.” He darted a glance at Terry. “That’s the extent of my Spanish, I’m afraid. Is this the first time Manuela has missed a shift?”
“She’s always here waiting when we open the doors. I don’t understand it.” She glanced toward the door, but no Manuela appeared, eager and smiling. “I hope nothing’s wrong.”
“We can check on her later if she doesn’t show up.” He knelt next to the child, and she watched as he deftly gave the injection.
“You know, we can take care of the immunizations if you have something else to do.”
She’d called in plenty of volunteers for the immunization day, not knowing how many children would show up. More than she’d have imagined, by the looks of it. Brendan had organized the bus service, and they’d advertised at all the camps.
“Don’t I give the injections well enough to suit an experienced paramedic like you?” His eyebrows lifted, but she could see he wasn’t really offended. Their truce had held for almost a week, which had to be a record.
“You’re doing fine,” she assured him. “I just meant it seems like a waste to have a neurosurgeon give childhood immunizations.”
“I’m not that any longer.” He said the words without any particular inflection, giving no clue to his feelings. “Besides, it’s always good to keep your skills sharp.” He ruffled the child’s hair and sent him to Terry for his lollipop.
“Like Seth over there, trying to remember his high-school Spanish.” She nodded toward the sign-in desk, where volunteers tried to take histories and determine what immunizations each child needed.
“He’s giving it a valiant effort, I must say. But we could use Manuela there, speaking of skills.”
They’d set up three immunization stations, but the slowdown at the sign-in desk meant they had a short break between clients. “Yes, we could. I had some volunteers from the advanced Spanish class at the high school, but I didn’t think we’d need them today. By the time I realized we needed them, I couldn’t get them out here in time.” She welcomed the next mother and child pair. “I wish I knew what happened to Manuela.”
Jake knelt next to the little boy, who’d tensed up enough to guarantee the shot would hurt. “Hey, come on, buddy. Relax.” He put his stethoscope in the boy’s ears. “Want to listen to your heart?” While the boy’s attention was distracted, he deftly gave the injection.
“Now that’s skill,” Terry said, smiling at the child. “No tears at all.”
“Glad you appreciate it.” Jake straightened.
