A Nurse's Forgiveness

by Jessica Matthews

  Marta was relieved the three of them had returned so quickly. They wouldn’t have had time to discuss anything at great length, although she suspected they’d thrown their support in his ring. They’d never minced words or held back their opinion about her relationship with her surviving family member, so they obviously saw Evan’s presence as an answer to their prayer.

  Amy sank into the chair beside Marta. “See, we brought your Dr Gallagher back safe and sound.”

  “And what stories did you manage to spin while you were gone?”

  Rachel dismissed Marta’s question with a brisk wave of one hand. “Spinning stories? Why, everything we told him was true.”

  Marta sighed and she avoided meeting Evan’s gaze. “I was afraid of that.”

  Amy patted her hand. “We only have your best interests at heart. Oh, would you look at Del? I’d say there’s romance in the air.”

  Marta glanced in the direction Amy had indicated. The familiar tall, lanky fellow had his arms around Christina and his lips plastered to hers. Both were clearly unconcerned about their audience. Her lack of response to seeing Del with another woman only emphasized the rightness of her decision to break off their relationship.

  “Golly, Marta,” Amy said, “you and Del were an item for so long, I thought for sure—”

  “It doesn’t pay for you to think,” Marta quipped. “We wanted different things.”

  “Humph.” Rachel crossed her arms. “At this rate, we’re never going to be in your wedding party.”

  Marta hoped Evan would attribute the sudden rosiness of her skin to the sun and not embarrassment. Why point out her lack of romantic interests to a man who probably entertained a different woman every night of the month? “Yeah, but you won’t have to buy a fancy dress so think of all the money you’re saving.”

  “Just so you’ll know, we want to spend our salaries on dresses,” Amy declared. “I’m willing to eat peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches for a month. Which means, sister, dear, get with the program!”

  Two young men, classmates of Amy and Rachel, sauntered by. “Hey, you two,” they said. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to visit with everybody? We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Amy jumped to her feet and Rachel followed suit. “See you around, sis,” Amy said. Winking at Evan, she added, “And don’t wait up for us.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Rachel commented, bestowing a huge smile on the taller of the two men.

  A moment later, Evan and Marta were alone. Relatively alone, considering the hordes of people making their way to form a line for the buffet.

  “Seems like your sisters are eager for you to tie the knot,” Evan commented.

  “Tell me about it,” she said glumly. “I wish they’d pay as much attention to their own love lives as they do to mine.”

  “They probably want you to be happy.”

  “I’m happy now.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She sighed. “I know. Rachel wants a niece or nephew to spoil and Amy thinks I’m lonely.”

  “Are you? Lonely, that is?”

  “I’m too busy to be lonely.”

  “I could use a few extra hours in my day, too,” he said, “but there are times when I’m lonely.”

  She couldn’t believe it. “You’re kidding. After hobnobbing with the wealthiest people of Dallas, escorting their beautiful daughters to ritzy events, you surely have run across someone you wanted regularly in your life.”

  “I did,” he admitted. “Jill had two kids and we got along great.”

  “What happened?”

  “Her ex came back to town, promised he’d delegate more of his work, cut down on the number of his overseas trips and be there for them.”

  “And she bought it?” She was incredulous.

  “Yeah. I didn’t think their relationship would work either, but she was willing to risk it. They’ve been together for three years and it appears he’s doing everything he’d promised. He’s home every night and every weekend, and doesn’t take any trips except in the summer when she and their two girls can join them. Jill’s expecting baby number three in December.”

  “Hey, you two.” Ros wheeled her way toward them on the sidewalk and motioned them forward. “If you don’t get in line, there won’t be anything left.”

  Evan jumped to his feet and grabbed Marta by the hand. “Come on. I’m not about to miss out on home cooking.”

  Marta let herself be led forward, trying to ignore Ros’s broad grin. “How’s everything going?” Ros asked innocently.

  “Fine,” Marta said, signaling with a terse look not to say anything she’d have to explain to Evan. Luckily, a tall, muscular redhead sneaked behind Ros, tipped her wheelchair backwards and spun her around.

  Ros screamed, then laughed as he pushed her down the sidewalk. “Make way!” he called out, and everyone cleared the path, like Moses parting the Red Sea.

  “Abe! Would you stop that?” Ros’s voice faded as the crowd closed in behind them.

  “Her boyfriend?” Evan asked.

  “He’d like to be,” Marta explained. “Abe Sommers has been after her for years, but she insists that he doesn’t need a cripple for a wife.”

  “I’m sure Abe doesn’t see her as a cripple.”

  “No, but try getting it through Ros’s head.”

  The owner of the hardware store and his wife fell into line behind them. While they talked to Evan, Marta’s mind wandered back to Evan’s failed romance.

  Jill had either been a fool or extremely courageous to risk both her and her children’s future on the strength of her ex-husband’s promise. Her life could have become either heaven or hell. Luckily for her, Jill had got her happy ending.

  People could change for the better, Marta supposed, but she wasn’t brave enough to test the theory for herself.

  By the time the sun had dropped below the tops of the trees, Marta felt more relaxed than she had since Evan had rolled into town. Ros had done the right thing by forcing her to bring Evan to the barbecue, although if Marta admitted it aloud, Ros wouldn’t ever let her forget it.

  The look of pleasure on his face as he dug into his plate piled high with beef ribs and side dishes was immensely satisfying.

  A while later she watched him as he lounged in a lawn chair, looking content with the world. “Did you get enough to eat?”

  He groaned. “I shouldn’t have taken that last brownie.”

  “It was a bit much,” she agreed, “especially after you’d already gorged yourself on peanut-butter cookies, cherry pie and turtle cheesecake.”

  He patted his stomach. “I couldn’t let the last piece of each go to waste. Besides, they looked so lonely by themselves.”

  She laughed. “They might have looked lonely, but their fat grams aren’t. Think of all the calories you’ll have to work off.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, but every bite was worth it.”

  Marta gazed over the crowd and saw Lynette Zindel slowly wind her way toward them. Her instincts kicked in—something was wrong.

  Lynette approached with a smile on her face, but she spoke softly so no one could overhear. “I really hate to bother you,” she apologized, “but Charlie is sick. Will you come?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  MARTA’S mind ran through all the possibilities, hoping the boy’s immune system was strong enough to deal with whatever bug he might have caught.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, aware of how quickly Evan sat at attention, his after-dinner lethargy instantly gone.

  Lynette wrung her hands. “Charlie hardly ate any supper and now he’s vomiting. Would you mind checking him, Dr Gallagher? It’s probably nothing but…” she shrugged helplessly “…you know how over-protective moms are.”

  Evan rose. “Sure, I’ll be happy to.”

  “He doesn’t want people to worry, so would you play this low-key?”

  He agreed. “Where is he?”

  “In his room. First door on the right sid
e of the hallway.”

  With that, Lynette turned away and ambled in the opposite direction.

  Marta quickly swallowed her surprise at being ignored. The odd turn of events was rather unsettling. For a moment she felt like an abandoned toy, discarded because it had outlived its usefulness. Then she scolded herself for her thoughts. Why wouldn’t the Zindels want a physician’s opinion if they could get one? She couldn’t afford to become territorial when her patients’ lives were at stake.

  After a circuitous route to the house, Marta followed Evan to Charlie’s room. He knocked twice before a weak voice called out.

  “Hey, there,” Evan greeted the new teenager, who was lying on the twin-sized bed on his side. The room was pure boy, with a red-and-blue plaid bedspread and curtains to match. “I just heard horrible news. You’re not enjoying all the good food.”

  The corners of Charlie’s mouth turned up slightly. He held his stomach with one hand and clutched a hospital emesis basin with the other. “I don’t know why she called you. I’m OK.”

  “Are you sure?” Evan asked. “I don’t mind practicing my doctor stuff.”

  Once again a small grin tugged at Charlie’s mouth. “OK,” he agreed. “You won’t find anything, though. I’m just tired, and when I’m tired I get nauseous.”

  Evan sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you have a thermometer handy?”

  “Top drawer.”

  Where he’d indicated, Marta found the latest model in thermometers, along with tongue depressors, alcohol wipes and a penlight. She gave Evan the supplies he would use before she inserted the thermometer’s tip into Charlie’s ear. As soon as the signal beeped, she held it so Evan could read the digital display.

  Ninety-nine point seven. Slightly elevated.

  She took Charlie’s pulse and counted his respirations. All normal.

  “Did you get sick at camp?”

  “I felt great.”

  “Did anyone get sick at camp? Colds, the flu, sore throat?”

  Charlie thought a moment. “I heard one of the leaders got into poison ivy. Does that count?”

  Evan smiled. “No.”

  “Then I don’t think anyone was sick. The nurses watched us real close.”

  Evan probed the lymph glands in Charlie’s neck, and checked his throat. “Can you roll onto your back for me?”

  Charlie complied and Evan palpated his abdomen and pressed down on his right lower quadrant. “Does this hurt?”

  “No.”

  Evan rose. “Looks like you were right, Charlie. I can’t find a thing wrong with you.”

  “Told you so. Will you tell my mom, so she’ll quit worrying?”

  Marta laughed at his plaintive tone. “You bet. Are you going to be OK in here by yourself?”

  “Yeah. I’m goin’ to get ready for bed.”

  “Good idea,” Evan said.

  Charlie sat up. “Hey, thanks for the remote-control car, Marta. It’s really cool.”

  She had spent hours agonizing over what a thirteen-year-old might want. She’d considered a CD, but wasn’t sure of his taste in music. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Sleep tight.”

  As they walked outside Lynette and her husband, Bob, met them at the door.

  “His temp is up a little,” Evan announced. “So far, though, no signs of infection.”

  Lynette’s shoulders sagged and she let out a heavy sigh. “Thank goodness.”

  “If he’s not better by morning, then call us.”

  “We will,” Bob promised, shaking Evan’s hand. “Thanks for the advice.”

  “My pleasure, but I really didn’t do anything.”

  “You’ve given us peace of mind,” Lynette declared. “It’s worth a lot.” Then, as if she’d remembered Marta’s presence, she added, “Oh, but you’ve always been a big help to us, too, Marta. We don’t want you to think—”

  “I understand. You’d be foolish to settle for my opinion when you have an expert available.” She smiled to ease Lynette’s anxiety and to let Evan know she bore him no ill will. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Lynette nodded. “Thanks again. To both of you.”

  Marta walked into the yard, conscious of Evan within arm’s reach. Twilight was falling and someone had lit several yard candles to ward off the mosquitos. The crowd had thinned from its earlier standing-room-only capacity, but chairs were still at a premium.

  She spied a wooden love seat under an oak tree several feet away from most of the group. While they were still close enough to carry on a conversation with the others if they spoke loudly, they could also talk privately between themselves.

  “Nice night,” she said once they’d sat down. Somehow the love seat had looked larger before they’d sat in it. Her leg rubbed against Evan’s and she fought the urge to fidget. Instead, she clasped her hands together in her lap.

  “Beautiful,” he agreed. “The company makes it even better.”

  Marta wasn’t about to fool herself into thinking he was referring specifically to her company. “New Hope is a friendly town,” she said. “I’ve known these people for most of my life.”

  “Then you grew up here?”

  She nodded. “After my mom left home, she married my dad and they lived in Blackwell, Oklahoma. He was killed right after I was born in a motorcycle accident. When I was five, my mom married Cooper Wyman and I suddenly had two younger sisters. We moved to New Hope when he was taken on at the feedlot.”

  “And you’ve stayed ever since.”

  “Yeah. Except for the years I went to college for my nursing and nurse-practitioner degrees.”

  “Did you always want to come home to work?”

  She nodded. “Yes. A lot of people wouldn’t go to the doctor until they were either deathly ill or it was too late. I wanted to make a difference.”

  “Sounds as if you did.”

  “Not as much as I’d like, though.”

  He rested his arm on top of the bench’s back and the warmth from his skin tickled the nape of her neck. “If you could, what would you change?”

  “You mean, other than having a doctor show up on a regular basis?” At his nod, she continued, “I’d like to have an X-ray machine. Nothing fancy, just something where I could snap a few pictures to check for pneumonia or broken bones. I know I couldn’t cast them until I got more training, but at least I wouldn’t have to send so many people to the ER with nothing more than a sprain.”

  “That must be frustrating,” he agreed.

  “I’d also like a small instrument to check hemoglobins and white counts. Again, for a case like Charlie’s, it would be nice to know right away if he’s developed an infection and should be rushed to the hospital or not.”

  “Have you talked to Campbell about this?”

  “He says it’s out of the question. Finances dictate what we can and can’t do these days. We have to give the best patient care but at a fraction of the cost.” She glanced at him. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”

  “No,” he said. “However, my facility is fortunate because we can solicit donations to fill in the gaps.”

  “Is that how you met my grandfather?”

  Her final word seemed to hang in the evening air. “I knew him long before I became a physician.”

  “Really?” Marta tried to imagine how a boy who had been forced to support his parents by working in a grocery store had crossed paths with the oil tycoon. Winston Clay most assuredly had a minion of servants who shopped for him.

  “About six months after I found a job, your grandfather hired my mom as his cook and my dad as one of his grounds keepers. The cook’s position came with a small apartment, so we moved in.

  “When Winston came home at night, he’d always stop in the kitchen to see what was for dinner. I was usually doing homework, so he’d ask about my day. Later, after my dad died of a heart attack, Winston learned I wanted to go to med school and he helped me get there.”

  She sensed she was getting the condensed
version. In any case, it was obvious how highly Evan thought of Winston Clay. “I see.”

  “As you can tell, I carry a very different picture of him than you do.”

  “He has only himself to blame,” she said, hurt by the idea of Winston treating a stranger more like a grandchild than his own flesh and blood.

  “Does he know you’re here? In New Hope?” she asked abruptly.

  “Not yet, but he has my cellphone number, so I expect he’ll call before long. He’ll want to know if I’m enjoying his condo,” he finished dryly.

  Marta craned her neck to stare into his face. “And what will you tell him?”

  Although he hesitated, his gaze didn’t waver. “If he asks? The truth,” he said simply.

  “And what is the truth?”

  Evan’s mouth curled into a lazy grin. “I’m enjoying a beautiful evening with his charming granddaughter.”

  The intensity in his eyes, the husky quality to his tenor voice and the nearness of his body caused goose-bumps to rise on her bare skin and a shiver to zing its way down her spine.

  Electricity seemed to charge the air. She focused her eyes on his mouth as her sense of smell honed in on his unique male scent mixed with the sweet tang of barbecue sauce.

  In spite of being surrounded by people, nature provided the illusion of them being alone. The occasional call of a dove and the answering coo of its mate interrupted the song of the cicadas and the unrelenting chirp of an army of crickets.

  “Tell me,” he said softly, “would you ever consider leaving New Hope?”

  Leave New Hope? His question cleared the fog surrounding her brain.

  “I leave New Hope several times a month,” she said, trying to read between the lines.

  “To work,” he corrected. “Would you ever consider working anywhere else?”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “If the conditions were right.”

  “And what constitutes the right conditions?”

  She thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. Unlike most people, I’m satisfied with my salary and I enjoy my work at the clinic.”

  “What if the right person asked?”

  She smiled. “If the right person asked, I’d definitely go, but only if I found a replacement. I may not be a physician, but I’m better than having no one at all.