A Nurse's Forgiveness

by Jessica Matthews

  Her smile was tremulous and the stiff set to her spine seemed to ease.

  “Then would you?”

  Her question surprised him. He hadn’t expected her to be so brazen, but her white knuckles and the nervous way she licked her lips hinted at her insecurities. She’d clearly ventured out of her usual depths and he was selfish enough and eager enough to grasp his much-dreamed-about opportunity with both hands. His imagination had run rampant, and now only pure reality would satisfy him.

  “You’re certain?” he asked, trying to be noble and give her one last opportunity to change her mind.

  “Oh, yes.”

  He wanted to run forward and scoop her into his arms, but he only allowed himself one step forward. “It will be hard to stop at only a kiss.”

  She looked startled. “Really?”

  “Most definitely,” he said firmly, trying to dispel all of her doubts. Had she truly not thought of herself as being desirable?

  Her face turned pink. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  He smiled broadly and walked closer. “I love a woman who knows her own mind.”

  With one long stride, he closed the distance between them. As she tipped her face to meet his, Evan wanted to grab her like a drowning man clutched a lifesaver, but he restrained himself. Instead, he lightly held her shoulders and marveled at how delicate her bones seemed in his hands.

  He lowered his head, brushing his lips against hers in the briefest of contacts. Then, like magnet to metal, he pressed his mouth on hers and savored the taste.

  “You smell really nice,” he muttered as a part of his brain tried to identify the fragrance.

  “Cucumber melon,” Marta answered breathlessly. “It’s—”

  His mouth ended her speech. Gently, he traced a line from her temple down to her chin, moving on to stroke her bare arms before he tugged her hips against his.

  She was so soft, so warm, so…feminine.

  He moved his hand to the back of her neck and felt her silky hair lightly brush against his skin. From there, he caressed her throat before slowly descending to fiddle with the buttons of her shirt.

  His fingers went lower, until he could touch the firm flesh rising above what felt like only a wisp of a bra. Her heart pounded under his palm and he ran his lips where his fingers had already traveled. Suddenly she shivered and her slight weight settled more fully against him.

  Anticipation hummed through Evan’s veins and the same exhilaration he experienced when he coasted down a steep slope on his bike began to build to a fever pitch. All he could think of was going the distance, flying over the edge and defying gravity to touch the sun.

  “Ros…Ros is…expecting us.” Marta sighed as he pushed aside the scrap of fabric and feasted on her generous curves like a starving man. He was starving…for her.

  “She’ll have to wait.” He continued his gentle exploration before moving on to new and untouched territory.

  “No…really. She’ll call.” She licked her lips and arched her back in response. “She…we…have patients waiting.”

  Suddenly Evan froze, uncomfortably aware of the state he’d worked himself into—how near he’d approached the point of no return. She wiggled in his arms. “Don’t move.”

  Marta opened her eyes, blinking as if slowly coming out of a dream. “Are you OK?”

  Evan gritted his teeth. “I will be in a minute.” He took several long breaths, fighting for control.

  “Do you want me to—?”

  “Stay right there,” he said, willing the pressure to ease before he disgraced himself. Reluctantly, he tucked her back in her bra and pulled the edges of her shirt closed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, fastening the buttons.

  He chuckled. “What for?”

  “I didn’t realize you would…I expected a simple kiss. Not something this…” Her voice faded.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Powerful?”

  A flush started at her neck and headed upwards. “Yeah.”

  He held her in a loose embrace. “I had a feeling it would be this way.”

  “You did?”

  Evan nodded. “Do you think Ros will send out the cavalry if we don’t show up at the clinic this afternoon?”

  “Not if we call and explain,” she said pertly. “Are you willing to spell it out for her?”

  He grinned. “I could, but since New Hope is a small town, making afternoon delight probably wouldn’t be too good for your staid medical image.”

  A coy smile inched its way across her face. “No, but I could be bribed into holding special office hours this evening.”

  He remembered how she’d accused him of bribing her with a kiss, and he laughed. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather make a house call.”

  She moved away and struck a pose. “Maybe I can’t afford the fee.”

  He grabbed her close. “A kiss is all I need.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHICO’S funeral cast a pall over the July fourth Independence Day weekend. Although the community held its planned festivities, including a performance by the city band and the usual fireworks display, the mood didn’t soar quite as high as in years past. Marta mourned with everyone else and was grateful for Evan’s steady presence by her side.

  It only drove home how much she would miss him when he left. He had worked too hard to reach his particular rung on the ladder of success to turn his back on everything he’d earned, but during her weaker moments she wished that he would.

  Not only would she feel his absence, like any woman who missed the man she loved, but she’d miss him for professional reasons. He wouldn’t be available to discuss a troubling case or to immediately deal with those situations beyond her abilities. Having a physician on site these past few weeks had been a treat for her and her patients, and she reminded herself often of how short-lived this luxury was.

  For now, though, she intended to absorb as much medical knowledge as she could while Evan was here. Her next case became such a learning experience.

  “Tell me how you’re feeling,” Marta asked the fifty-year-old farmer, who was known in the area as Smitty rather than Clarence Smith, and who was accompanied by his wife, Claire.

  “I’ve lost my appetite, have chills and fever and my bones ache,” Smitty reported.

  “Anything else?” she asked as she jotted down his comments.

  “Headache. Sore throat. Stiff neck. I have trouble sleeping at night, too.”

  “He paces all night long,” Claire supplied. A wiry woman, her skin was tanned and her blonde hair appeared bleached from the sun. “Seems he can’t sit still for more than a minute. You’d think he had ants in his pants.”

  “Oh, Claire,” Smitty grumbled. “It’s not that bad. Don’t be making me out to be worse than I am.”

  Claire glared at him, but didn’t stop talking. “And irritable? My, he’s like a bear who woke up too soon.”

  “Hush, woman,” Smitty declared. “I can speak for myself.” He broke into a paroxysm of coughing.

  Claire waved her hand. “Then go ahead.”

  Smitty’s jaw took on a mulish set. “I will.” He glanced at Marta. “I do seem to be a little short on patience these days.”

  “That happens to all of us,” Marta soothed. “How long have you been feeling this way?”

  He thought for a minute. “About a week.”

  “Make that going on two,” Claire corrected. “I wanted you to come in last week, remember?” She addressed Marta. “It started out mild. We thought he just had a touch of the summer flu. But then he developed this cough that won’t go away.”

  Unfortunately, a multitude of diseases, ranging from a particularly virulent strain of influenza to something along the lines of meningitis, could account for the non-specific symptoms he’d described. Because Smitty was a normally healthy male, she refused to let a stone go unturned in her examination.

  She began checking him over, carefully peering down his throat and palpating the lymph glands in hi
s neck before listening to the rattle in his chest. She didn’t need an X-ray to know this man had a case of pneumonia which would require antibiotics. However, swollen lymph glands, sore throats, headaches and restlessness didn’t usually fit the picture. Something else was going on inside his body.

  “Have you noticed anything else? A rash, petechiae—little red dots on your skin?” she explained.

  Smitty glanced at his wife and she shrugged.

  “OK. No rash. Have you done anything unusual during this time?” Marta asked. “Gone on any trips?”

  “Trips? We’ve been too busy with harvest to even think about takin’ a trip. As far as doing anything unusual, I can’t think what it would be.”

  “Have you been exposed to any pesticides or poisons?”

  “Not lately.”

  Claire suddenly snapped her fingers. “You were cleaning out the dead brush in our shelter belt a few weeks ago.”

  He sent his wife an exasperated frown. “What has cutting trees and hauling off dead limbs got to do with pesticides? I worked out there long before I got sick.”

  Marta began to wonder… “How long?” she asked.

  Smitty drew his bushy eyebrows together as he pondered her question. “Probably close to two weeks.”

  An idea began to form. Although she’d decided to order a blood count and a liver-function panel, other lab tests were needed for a proper diagnosis. A spinal tap came to mind, but even if she had the supplies the procedure went beyond her scope of practice. Luckily, Evan was on hand to act as a resource.

  “Do you remember being bitten by anything? Like a tick?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t remember, but it’s possible.”

  “I’m going to call in Dr Gallagher,” she said, scribbling more notes on her clipboard. “Or, if you prefer, I’ll send you on to Dr Campbell. Dr Gallagher is an excellent physician so you needn’t worry about being in good hands.”

  “I heard about him,” Smitty said. “Bring him in. I’m all for saving me a drive to Liberal considerin’ the price of gasoline these days.”

  She found Evan talking on the telephone and waited impatiently for him to notice her. As soon as he finished his call, she briefed him in the hallway.

  “Could he have a rickettsial disease?” she asked. “He’s worked in a wooded area, clearing out dead brush, and the onset of his symptoms seems to fit the incubation period.”

  “It’s possible,” Evan said. “The pneumonia could be a complication rather than the original infection. Are we able to do a spinal tap?”

  “I’ve never kept the supplies on hand,” Marta said, wishing otherwise. “I thought if the situation required an LP, the patient should be in the emergency room anyway.”

  “Logical, but you might consider keeping the supplies on hand. The next doctor may run into a situation where he’d want to do the tap right away.”

  While she made a mental note to request a few sterile packs, Evan introduced himself to Smitty and his wife. After completing his exam and reviewing Marta’s notes, he sat on the small stool next to the table and addressed the couple.

  “I want to admit you to the hospital,” he said. “It’s possible Smitty has contracted Rocky Mountain spotted fever.”

  “Rocky Mountain spotted fever?” Smitty echoed. “Isn’t that caused by ticks up in the mountains?”

  Evan smiled. “Ticks carry the disease, but you can find infected ticks anywhere there are a lot of trees. The condition is treatable, but your pneumonia concerns me. You need to be monitored closely for a few days.”

  “I don’t need a hospital,” Smitty roared. “Give me a bottle of pills and I’ll go home and rest.”

  “I wouldn’t advise that,” Evan said. “You’re putting yourself at risk for worse complications. Spleen and liver enlargement, an infection of the heart muscle and a host of other things can occur if you don’t receive proper care.”

  “Smitty,” Claire warned. “You gotta go.”

  “There’s too much to do at home,” he complained.

  “Oh, pish!” Claire exclaimed. “There’s always work waiting for us on the farm.”

  Marta felt compelled to add her opinion. “The neighbors will help Claire with whatever needs to be done. Remember when Felix had his kidney stone? And when Humberto broke his leg? Those are just a few of the people you’ve helped. Now it’s your turn.”

  “I hate to be a bother,” he mumbled.

  “It’s not a bother,” Marta declared.

  Smitty heaved a deep sigh and Marta knew they’d won the battle. “Oh, all right. But only for a few days.”

  Evan rose. “I’ll make the arrangements while Marta draws blood.” He pulled her aside. “Get a CBC, a chem panel, liver enzymes, a mono test and a blood culture times two. Collect a urine specimen, too. When does the courier arrive?”

  He was referring to the lab employee who came once a day to pick up any specimens their clinic might have collected. “They’ll be here in about an hour.”

  “Then they’ll be able to start testing before Smitty arrives. I’ll tell Campbell.” He left to make his phone call.

  Marta assembled her supplies while Smitty lay back on the table. “I’m going to poke you twice,” she apologized. “Once in each arm. I promise to make it as painless as possible.”

  “Says the woman who’s on the other side of the needle,” Smitty remarked.

  Marta laughed as she cleaned his left arm with a Betadine scrub. “Surely a big fellow like you isn’t afraid of needles.”

  “Not afraid of ’em,” he said. “I just don’t like ’em.”

  Marta talked about the recent wheat harvest while she drew the required blood samples. By the time she’d finished, Evan had returned.

  “Have you ever had a lumbar puncture or a spinal tap before?” he asked Smitty.

  “Nope. Doesn’t sound like I want to either.”

  Evan smiled. “It’s not quite as bad as it sounds. We insert a needle into your spinal column between the vertebrae and withdraw some of the fluid. The results of the lab tests can give us a better picture of what is or isn’t wrong with you.”

  Smitty’s weather-beaten face lightened a shade or two underneath his tan and he appeared a little green around the gills. “Don’t suppose you could do without this test.”

  “We can,” Evan admitted, “but then we may mis-diagnose you and prescribe the wrong antibiotic. Then you’ll end up in worse shape than before.”

  “All right,” Smitty mumbled before he coughed.

  “I’ve notified Dr Campbell and he’ll alert the hospital that you’re coming. Check in at the front desk and a nurse will take you directly to a room.”

  Both Smitty and Claire nodded.

  “Once you’re there, Dr Campbell will take over.”

  Smitty winced. “This puncture…It sounds so…barbaric.”

  “It’s an invasive procedure,” Evan admitted. “But there are worse ones.”

  “Will they put me under?” he asked.

  “Dr Campbell will inject a local anesthetic in the area. You won’t feel any pain, only some pressure. The worst thing will be probably be the headache afterwards, but they’ll give you acetaminophen or something similar. If you have questions, just ask. Dr Campbell will explain all this again anyway.”

  “Can’t you just do this spinal thing here?” Smitty asked.

  “We could,” Marta said, “But we don’t have the supplies. Even if we did we wouldn’t, because it’s best to monitor your blood pressure and pulse for several hours afterwards as a precaution.”

  Evan ambled toward the door. “Remember, go straight to the hospital. Dr Campbell is expecting you.”

  Smitty slid off the end of the table until he’d planted his feet firmly on the floor. “Come on, Claire. The sooner we get there, the sooner I can come home.”

  The couple left, with Smitty reciting a long list of instructions. “You’d better write this all down,” Marta heard him say. “You’ll forget.”


  “I won’t forget,” Claire declared. “I’m sure you’ll remind me fifty more times.”

  Marta exchanged an amused smile with Evan as she prepared the specimens for the courier and completed the proper request forms. “They’re quite a pair.”

  Evan agreed. “I hope he won’t change his mind about staying in the hospital.”

  “Claire won’t let him. She may seem meek and mild, but underneath she’s tough.” She sighed. “I wish we could have done more for him here. It would have saved so much time if we could have sent the specimens on ahead.”

  “Now you know and you’ll prepare for the next case. In fact, why don’t you see if you can enter a training program so you can collect the CSF yourself?”

  “It’s a good idea,” she said, “but I wouldn’t do them often enough to stay proficient. I’d rather stick to treating cases I encounter on a regular basis.”

  “Like what?”

  “Orthopedic work,” she answered promptly, thinking of the three boys who’d each broken an arm while skateboarding. “To set simple fractures. I didn’t apply for a preceptorship several years ago because it seemed more of a priority to get the clinic open for business.”

  “Then find a temporary replacement.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  He grinned. “It is. The details are the problem.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Speaking of details, do you have time for a cup of coffee?” he asked.

  “Sure. Give me ten minutes or so while I write up some notes.”

  Fifteen minutes later as they sat in Marta’s office with their coffee Evan said, “There’s something I need to—”

  The buzzer in the hallway interrupted him. Before the sound died away, Ros zoomed toward them as if she were riding a gust of wind. “Claire Smith just called. Smitty is having seizures.”

  “Where is she?” Evan asked.

  “At home.”

  “Did she call the ambulance?” Marta asked.

  “I did, just now. Claire’s asking for you to drive out to their place.”

  Marta didn’t hesitate. “I’ll bet you never thought you’d go on this many house calls,” she said.