by Ann McMan
“Hey. Watch the cashmere.”
“Hey, watch the comments.”
“Girls . . . please. Any more of this, and I’ll make you eat outside on the porch.” Michael set the large pizza down on a hot pad in the middle of the table. It was fragrant and bubbling, covered with garlic, fresh basil, goat cheese, and sun-dried tomatoes.
“My god, Michael, this smells fabulous.” Syd leaned over the pizza and tipped her head back as she inhaled.
“Yeah,” Maddie said. “And with the amount of garlic on it—it’s a good thing we’re all going to be eating it.”
“Oh, reeaaallly?” David drawled. “Just exactly what kind of activity did you have in mind for after dinner? Some kind of kinky, eclectic group thang?”
Maddie rolled her eyes. “Yes. Precisely. I thought we could play an adult version of your earlier amusement, and engage in a few provocative hands of strip Go Fish.”
David sat back and considered her. “Interesting. Draw a card—lose a garment. I like it. I’m game.”
“You’re also an exhibitionist and a lousy card player.” She picked up a slice of pizza and put it on Syd’s plate. “That’s a dangerous combination.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the only loser in the room. Miss Murphy over there was every bit as rotten as I was.” He took a sip of his champagne. “She’d end up naked a lot faster than I would.”
Maddie’s hands paused in mid-air as she reached for another piece of pizza.
“Uh huh. That got you thinking, didn’t it?” He sat back smugly and picked up his own slice.
“Honey, that cheese is really hot,” Michael said. “Be sure you take a nice big bite.”
David glowered at him.
Maddie shook her head.
Syd chuckled.
Over their heads, the two little boys slept on.
And twenty-two miles away in the maternity ward of the Wytheville Community Hospital, Carlos Sanchez and his wife Isobel named their tiny new daughter Madelena.
CARLOS ARRIVED AT Maddie’s farm a little before midnight. David and Michael helped him carry the still sleeping boys out to his battered station wagon, where they settled them under a couple of borrowed blankets on the back seat. Thankfully, they didn’t have far to drive. Maddie and Syd followed them out to the barn where he had parked and stood by while Carlos got his sons tucked in. He stood and turned to Maddie.
“Gracias, Doctora. Es muy amable y estamos en deuda con usted.” He looked at his shoes. “Siempre estaremos en su deuda.”
Maddie laid her hand gently on his shoulder. “No. You have a wonderful family. Es un placer, estamos para servir.”
He met her eyes and smiled. Then he looked at Syd. “Gracias por cuidar a mis hijos. Thank you.”
She nodded and smiled at him.
He got into his car and drove slowly away from the house.
The four friends stood at the edge of the yard and watched until his tail lights disappeared.
David sighed. “And they’re off.” He held his wrist up into the light and looked at his watch. “So . . . it’s nearly time for that big, gaudy bauble to drop over Times Square. Let’s go watch.” He took Michael by the arm and steered him back toward the house. “You know, I heard that this year, they’re using a set from one of Zsa Zsa Gabor’s cocktail rings.”
Maddie couldn’t hear Michael’s muffled response as they walked off. She turned to face Syd in the semidarkness. They were standing in one of the long shadows cast by the light on the front porch, and she could barely make out her features.
“Quite a night.”
Syd laughed. “One for the record books, that’s for sure.”
“I’m sorry about that. I know this probably wasn’t the kind of evening you had in mind.”
“Don’t be silly. I had a wonderful time. Those boys are adorable.”
Maddie laughed. “Michael and David?”
Syd chortled. “That goes without saying. But I was referring to Héctor and Gabriel.”
“They sure are.”
“I have to tell you, something like tonight would never have happened in Baltimore.” She looked at Maddie. “Or Philadelphia. We’d have had to turn them over to Social Services.”
Maddie nodded. “No kidding. I think that’s one of the things I like best about being back here to live. It’s possible to practice medicine that includes a healthy dose of human kindness.”
“I think that would be part of your practice no matter where you lived.”
Maddie was glad the darkness hid her blush.
Syd took a deep breath. “Look at that sky. I’ve never seen so many stars.”
“It’s going to get a lot colder,” Maddie said.
“Uh huh. I’m freezing.”
Maddie wrapped an arm around Syd’s shoulders. “Come on then, let’s go warm up and welcome the New Year.”
They slowly walked back to the house. Syd’s arms were crossed against the cold, and Maddie tugged her a little closer as they made their way to the porch. “Are you tired?”
“Strangely, no. I guess it’s all the excitement.” She looked up at Maddie. “I guess you’re a little more accustomed to events like this.”
Maddie met her gaze. “Me? No, not really. I have to tell you that no matter how many times I witness it, I’m always awestruck when a woman delivers a baby. There’s just something so surreal about being present at the outset of that tiny new life. I mean, there they are—perfectly formed, and perfectly unformed. They have everything before them. And for a few finite moments, everything is possible. They’ve never been hurt, they’ve never been disappointed, they’ve never been afraid, they’ve never made mistakes. They’re just wonderfully present and ready to begin it all.” She laughed and shrugged. “Starting with a meal, a bowel movement, and a good cry.”
Syd laughed. “You sound downright humbled.”
“I am humbled.” She stopped and turned to Syd. “You’re not now going to follow that sage observation up with some sarcastic remark about my ego are you?”
Syd gave her an innocent look. “Me? Would I do that?”
Maddie narrowed her eyes. “In about half a nanosecond.”
Syd laid a hand on her forearm. “Not this time. I like it when you get all sappy and philosophical. It’s sweet.”
“Sappy?”
“Yeah.”
“Sweet?”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m sappy and sweet?”
“Right now you are, yes.”
Maddie sighed and shook her head.
“I never knew you had such maternal instincts,” Syd said. “It’s sweet.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. I saw how you looked at those little boys—like they were pieces of marzipan.”
Maddie gazed at her. “I hate marzipan.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Oh, now there’s an informed response to a declarative statement.”
“Don’t try and goad me into a different train of thought. Just admit that you like kids.”
“So what if I like them—sometimes? Occasionally. That doesn’t make me all maternal.”
“You’re not maternal?”
Maddie snorted. “No.”
“You don’t ever want kids of your own?”
“Let’s just say that it’s not in my long-range plan.”
“You have a long-range plan?”
Maddie chewed the inside of her cheek. “I’m beginning to formulate one, yes.”
They were startled by a burst of gunshots and firecrackers. The remote chorus raged for several minutes as they stood still to listen, standing close on the lawn near the steps to the porch. Silently, they turned to each other, smiling.
“So. Happy New Year,” Maddie said.
“Back atcha,” Syd replied, quietly.
They continued to stare at each other while the distant sounds of celebration from neighboring farms rolled across the valley and echoed all around them.
Maddie leaned forward and kissed Syd s
oftly on her forehead.
DAVID WALKED TO the front door and opened it, anxious to fetch Syd and Maddie who were still out in the yard. He had a freshly opened bottle of champagne in his hand, and he was ready to toast the New Year. In the parlor behind him, the voice of Ryan Seacrest could be heard shouting above the din in Times Square. He cast his eyes across the lawn toward the barn and saw them before he could call out.
They were standing close together in the shadows near the porch. He strained his eyes to get a better view. No, they weren’t just standing close together—they were hugging. He looked down at the beads of sweat on the cold bottle in his hand and smiled as he raised it to his lips. “It’s gonna be a good year,” he said, before taking a big swig and retreating to join Michael in the parlor.
Chapter 12
On January 10, Tom Greene broke his arm in two places. The story he later told was that he sustained the injuries when he slipped on a patch of black ice while crossing a parking lot. The story his wife, Muriel, later told was that he fell off a barstool in their basement media room, and that the only ice he’d been near all evening had been floating in a tumbler of Jack Daniels.
But Dr. Greene’s arm was well and truly broken, and it was clear that the Wytheville ER Chief was going to be out of commission for a good six weeks while he recovered.
His first choice for a locum tenens was the supremely qualified Dr. Stevenson, who already filled in at the ER two weekends a month. But Dr. Stevenson had her own practice twenty-two miles away in Jericho, and he wasn’t certain she could be prevailed upon to inconvenience her patients by managing his ER while he was incapacitated. He also had the option of trying to cherry-pick from doctors at neighboring hospitals, but Stevenson was the ideal choice. She had an impeccable professional pedigree, had previously worked as an assistant ER chief at a major metropolitan medical center, and was already familiar with his hospital’s protocols. In addition, she spoke fluent Spanish—an increasing asset, since most of the undocumented Hispanic residents of the area received their medical care in the hospital’s ER.
He was determined to persuade her, but he knew it wouldn’t be easy. He’d run headlong into her iron will before, and he knew that to succeed, he’d have to couch his offer in exactly the right terms. He picked up the phone on his desk with his left hand, and slowly dialed her number.
“Maddie? Hi, it’s Tom Greene. I doubt if you’ve heard this yet but I fell yesterday and managed to break my arm.” He chuckled. “Yeah. It’s pretty pathetic. Transverse fractures of the radius and ulna.” He looked down at the cast that encompassed his hand and covered his entire forearm. “The right one, of course.” He laughed again. “Listen. I’m sure you know why I’m calling you, and before you say ‘no,’ I want you to listen to my proposal.” He paused. “Well, I was giving some thought to that Parish Nurse program you talked with me about a couple of months ago, and I think I have an idea . . . ”
MADDIE HAD BEEN working for three weeks as Acting ER Chief of the Wytheville Community Hospital. Through some careful juggling, she had managed to maintain clinic hours in Jericho for two mornings and one afternoon a week. Peggy was holding down the fort the rest of the time, and, soon, she would have the additional support of a licensed Nurse Practitioner.
Tom Greene had managed to shake loose some uncommitted United Way funding, and had pledged to have his hospital underwrite the remaining part of the expense of hiring someone to staff a limited Parish Nurse program in the surrounding county. Maddie had conducted phone interviews with several candidates for the post, and was scheduled to meet with the best of the finalists in her makeshift office at the hospital on Friday afternoon.
It had been a busy day in the ER, replete with a rather grisly leg wound injury sustained during late-season bow hunting for deer. Two brothers had been out on a ridge near the New River Shot Tower, and one had fallen from a tree stand, lodging an arrow in his thigh when he hit the ground and landed on his hip quiver. His brother was able to control the bleeding and drive him to the hospital, where Maddie removed the broadhead-style arrowhead, which, fortunately, wasn’t very deeply embedded. She then had to set and cast his broken left wrist.
She was required to report hunting injuries like this to the local fish and game commissioner, and even if she hadn’t been, she would have contacted the authorities once she smelled the alcohol on the breath of her patient. She was persuaded that his fall from the tree stand was due more to intoxication than excitement over getting off a clear shot at a retreating deer.
Once her patient had been attended to, and the game commissioner had arrived to interview him, she headed off to her office to check her messages and prepare for the interview. She was surprised when she rounded the corner to see that her candidate had arrived already, and was quietly seated on a straight chair outside her office door. The woman looked up in surprise as Maddie approached and smiled as she got to her feet.
“Are you Dr. Stevenson?” she asked, with a soft southern drawl.
Maddie nodded and extended her hand. “Yes. You must be Elizabeth Mayes.” They shook hands warmly.
“Please call me Lizzy. Only my mama calls me Elizabeth—and then, only when I’m in trouble for something.”
Maddie smiled at her. “Oh? Are you in trouble often?”
The petite redhead raised an eyebrow. “You don’t expect me to reveal a thing like that during a job interview, do you?”
Maddie nodded. “Right. Well, come on in, and let’s see what else I can trick you into not telling me.”
They walked inside and sat down on facing upholstered chairs. “Was the drive up from Nashville long?”
Lizzy settled her bag and briefcase on the floor next to her chair and crossed her legs at the ankles. “Not too bad. I left at about seven this morning.”
Maddie glanced at her watch. It was a little after three. “That’s still a long drive. But you have family in the area, don’t you?”
“That’s right. My sister lives in Jefferson—Rachel Wilson. That’s how I heard about the position. She works in the county manager’s office.”
Maddie nodded. “Would you like something to drink? I have access to soft drinks, or I can get you a cup of the world’s worst coffee?”
Lizzy smiled. “That does sound awfully tempting but I think I’m just fine for now.”
“Well, then, why don’t you tell me a little more about yourself, and why you think the prospect of practicing in a remote area like this sounds appealing to you?”
“Okay. And if you’re satisfied with my answers, can I be direct and ask you the same questions?” Lizzy’s brown eyes looked directly into Maddie’s. They were intelligent and curious, and their corners were crisscrossed with smile lines. Her gaze was open and unguarded. Maddie decided that she liked her.
“I don’t see why not,” she answered.
Lizzy nodded. “So. I got my BSN at UT and worked for five years at a hospital similar in size to this one.” She paused. “I hated it. It was mostly housekeeping and paperwork—not the kind of nursing I’d always dreamed about.” She smiled as if to herself. “You know, I had all those Cherry Ames-type fantasies—Dude Ranch Nurse, Department Store Nurse, Cruise Ship Nurse. Crazy stuff. But I knew that, for me, nursing was a calling.” She met Maddie’s eyes. “I won’t deny that my faith is important to me, and I see a real parallel between the daily exercise of it and my chosen profession. Don’t let that scare you,” she quickly added. “I’m not some kind of born-again snake-handler.” Maddie chuckled. “And I sure hope you’re not either, ’cause if you are, then I just blew the hell out of this interview.”
Maddie smiled. “I think your secret is safe with me.”
Lizzy let out a long breath. “Thank god. Well. I left the hospital and got a job in Nashville, working out of a community center managed by Lutheran Family Services. That’s how I became interested in the whole Parish Nurse model. It just seemed to fit me perfectly. So I enrolled in the NP program at Vanderbilt and finally fi
nished up my degree last spring. The rest, as they say, is history.”
“How long have you been with Lutheran Family Services?” Maddie asked.
“Three-and-a-half years.”
“Do you do any work out of local church congregations, or are all of your services provided through the community center?”
“Most of the work happens in the center but I do remote visits to several small churches twice a month—on Wednesday nights and Sunday nights. I see about forty regular patients that way. Many of them don’t have access to transportation into Nashville, or would be terrified to try getting into the city if they could.”
“By comparison to here, Nashville is a teeming metropolis.”
“That’s true. But you’d be surprised how quickly you get into genuine Tennessee back country once you’re five miles outside the Nashville city limits.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
“And I have a more than a passing familiarity with this area. My sister and her husband have lived here for nigh-on fifteen years now. I’ve spent a fair amount of time with them on holidays and during the summer months. I’m devoted to my nieces and nephew.”
“Well, you have excellent credentials, Lizzy. Your transcripts from Vanderbilt are very impressive.”
Lizzy met her gaze evenly. “Thank you for saying so. I worked very hard.”
“It’s clear that you did. Tell me what you find most appealing about the prospect of living and working here—and why a fledgling program like this one is of interest to someone with your accomplishments?”
“I’m thirty years old, Dr. Stevenson. I want to put roots down someplace—someplace simpler and less frenetic than Nashville. I want to do the good work I’ve been trained to do in a more direct way—a way that helps people, and that feeds my need to embrace the real meaning of the vocation I’ve chosen. I want to be a nurse—a good nurse. And I want to know and care for the people I meet in ways that will enrich their lives, and mine.” She paused. “I really can’t state it any better than that.”
They were quiet for a moment.
