by Emily Childs
August winces, and bites his bottom lip as he plops onto the couch.
“What do you need?” Rafe asks.
“Towels. I need clean, damp towels. It’s deep.” She kneels in front of August, not even blinking at all the blood.
“Shouldn’t we get it stitched up then?” Rafe presses.
Jo nods as she checks for broken bones. She announces it doesn’t seem broken, but he might want to get an x-ray after she’s finished to be sure. Finished with what, Rafe and I still don’t know.
“So, we ought to take him?” I try again.
Jo tears a large piece of gauze open with her teeth and supports August’s shaky hand. She points at the leather kit. “I have my own suture kit. Are you okay with me doing this, August?”
August blows out a breath. “I’m not going to lose a finger or anything right?”
Jo smiles, calmer than any of us. My heart is a stampede against my ribs, like I’ve sprinted a marathon. When my uncle owned the shop, a mechanic got his ribs crushed once. That was rough, but something about one of my best friends nearly getting smashed has me stuck in a reel of what could’ve happened, and I feel like I might combust if I don’t do something besides pace.
“You’re going to have a nice scar most likely, depending on how epic my skills are, but no, you won’t lose a finger,” Jo says with a laugh. The woman is in her element and hasn’t batted a lash at the blood staining her hands.
Rafe returns with stacks of damp, steaming towels. Jo uses one to wipe her own hands before wrapping one around August’s hand. “Zac, will you help wipe off the blood, then apply pressure? I’m going to wash my hands.”
I don’t say a word and cling to the towel.
“Gah, man!” August says with a growl. “Stop squeezing so hard, she said pressure, not crush my bones.”
“Sorry.”
Jo gently nudges me away once she has on a pair of latex gloves. Rafe is stiff and stalwart behind her, his eyes locked on every move she makes. Jo chats with August as she cleans his hand. It’s impressive because with every word, every smile, August relaxes a little more. We all relax a little more.
“A lot of blood, and the cut is deep, but I don’t think it’s going to take more than eight stitches,” Jo explains once she starts threading the broken skin.
August leans his head against the back of the couch, his breaths come evenly again. “You should zig-zag them, make it look cool at least.”
Jo laughs, so does Rafe, but I don’t move. I’m too captivated at her steady hands as they work to close the wound. I’m not a nail biter, but the bitter taste of oil touches my tongue and I realize I’ve been gnawing on my thumbnail the entire time.
“All done,” Jo says after a few more minutes. She wraps and covers the gash before taking the bloodied towels and supplies to the sink. “Your boss is going to require a heart and let you stay away from the cars for a while.”
August scoffs. “It’s hard to avoid when that’s basically the job.”
“Looks like you and Jo are going to get to know each other better.” I clap August’s shoulder. “You’re pulling office duty for . . .” I glance at Jo.
“At least a week. I want you to keep as much dirt away from it as possible,” Jo says.
“Perfect. I’ll take air conditioning for a week.”
Rafe rolls his eyes. “You did it on purpose.”
“You figured me out. I risked crushing my hand just to sit in the office.”
Jo snickers, until her cautious gaze finds me. I clear my throat and scan her bloody shirt. “Um, thanks for doing this.”
Jo shrugs. “You thought I’d sit back and watch him writhe in pain?”
“No, but I didn’t know you packed an entire hospital in your bag. I’m glad you do.”
“Always be prepared, Zachariah.”
“You’re welcome to go over to my place and . . . clean up if you want.”
She sighs and seems to notice the mess all over her top for the first time. “It might be time to take you up on your laundry offer.”
“Glad to see you smiling now, too.”
“Yeah.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Um, sorry I was so short earlier. Stuff with work.”
“Everything okay?”
“Not really. I mean patients, yes, coworkers no. I didn’t want anyone to know the details of what happened and why I’m gone. But—” She shifts on her feet. “Well, it seems that Emmitt might have had a big mouth. I woke up to dozens of hilarious text messages. They think this is some kind of joke, and Emmitt told me to loosen up. Didn’t even apologize.” She pauses. “Wow, sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble on. Bottom line is the messages put me on edge. I’m discovering you are the one who gets the brunt of my temper.”
“I’m honored.”
She grins. “Yes, well you should be.” With a sigh she rests a hand on my arm. I don’t move, and I don’t want her to move either. Jo smiles sadly. “Anyway, I apologize for being a brat.”
Her hand falls, and my skin feels warm where she touched me. “He should’ve kept his mouth shut, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“I don’t mind because I agree.”
I’d like to tell her that her boyfriend sucks, but I keep that piece to myself. “Besides, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We’re going to send you home with a massive award for saving August’s life.”
She smiles. I have a hard time taking a deep breath when she smiles. Jo returns her kit to the bag. “I’d say the hand is about as life threatening as that darn bear-raccoon.”
“Both deadly. And no one has to know the gritty details. It’s our story, we can spin it how we like.”
The real Jo, the one she keeps buried inside, lifts her shy expression and beams. This is the real Josephine.
And this is the one I admit only to myself that I wouldn’t mind spending more time with.
11
Jo
I have a new appreciation for the overcast days in Honeyville. The air is pungent on my walk down the side of the road, but pungent with magnolias and salt from the sea breeze. I breathe it all in as I wait for the line to pick up.
“Hello?”
I grin at Emmitt’s groggy voice. “Hi. Did I wake you?”
Rustling sounds indicate Emmitt is tucked beneath the sheets. Surprising, since the man rose with the sun no matter what time a shift ended. “Yeah. What’s up?”
My forehead crinkles and I frown. “Uh, I missed talking with you last night, so I thought I’d call.”
“Oh,” says Emmitt, it sounds like he’s running a hand over his face. “How are things going?”
He’s interested in talking, I tell myself. He only needed to wake up. I need to relax. But it’s as if secret doubts I’ve carried about our relationship have put me on edge. “Things are . . . fine. One of the mechanics split his hand open yesterday, and I sutured him right there at the shop.”
Emmitt scoffs. “Look at that, carrying around your abnormally stuffed first aid kit came in handy.”
“Everyone teases me, but you never know when something is going to happen. I might even help in a clinic while I’m down here.”
“Why would you do that?”
“To pass the time,” I say. “To do something I enjoy might make the weeks go faster until I’m home . . . with you.” Does it matter? Emmitt has hardly seemed interested in what’s been going on with me. Maybe we’re in a relationship because it’s what we’ve always done.
Where is this coming from?
Emmitt takes a minute to respond, and when he does, he doesn’t sound happy. “I don’t see why you’d do anything more down there than the court ordered work. You don’t owe those people anything.”
“I know. It’s not that I owe them—”
“Then don’t do it.”
“Why does it matter to you?” I ask.
He scoffs. “Because I’ve been fighting you on this draw to family clinics for years. It’s too close for you, and it’s not
where your talents can be utilized most. I thought we wanted to specialize together.”
“Emmitt,” I say, face hot. “Would you relax? I’m not relocating. I have the opportunity to help people and last I checked, that is why I went into healthcare.”
He takes a deep breath. “Okay, but admit it, Jo. You jumped on it the second someone mentioned a general practice clinic.”
He’s not wrong, and he hates the reason I love family care so much. “Why are you so upset about this? It seems like a weird fight to have.”
For a second, I almost think he hung up. He clears his throat. “Sorry, sweetie.” His voice is tense. “You’re right. Hey, I’ve got to go. I’m getting a call from Earl.”
“Okay.” The leading cardiac surgeon will always take precedence over me in Emmitt’s life. It’s something I accepted long ago when a fellowship offer seemed possible. Emmitt will do anything for the man—even cut off his girlfriend—I’m certain he’d sell his soul if Dr. Earl Hess asked him.
“Bye.”
I tuck my phone in my bag and trudge to the auto shop. I’m almost relieved to have another face sitting up front with me when I step into the front lobby. August waves, and I take a guess that he’s using his bandaged hand on purpose. Like he’s proud of the battle wound. It’s strange seeing August dressed in nice jeans and a T-shirt. The jumpsuits sort of fit everyone in my mind now.
“Good morning,” I say and hang my bag on the hook behind the desk. “How’s the hand?”
He grins, and his smile has a bit of magic. It relaxes me and I didn’t even know I’d been tense. “It throbs.”
“Yet, you say it with a smile.”
“If you get hurt in the shop, it’s like a glory walk. I’ll be revered at this place forever.”
“Remind me never to aspire to glory at the shop then.”
August chuckles, but his voice drops into something somber. “Thank you, by the way. I’m not sure I properly thanked you yesterday for helping. You saved me a big bill and bleeding out at the hospital.”
I laugh at that. “Bleeding out might be a little dramatic, but I’m happy to help.”
I’ve been careful to keep my defensive walls in place, but I like August and Rafe. I like their wives. And—here it goes—I don’t mind Zac Dawson. I don’t know why it’s so hard to admit. He hasn’t been rude to me, and there is more to the man than I think I’ve tried to see. He isn’t some brisk hick like I thought. Truth be told, Zac is soft spoken. He seems genuinely concerned for others, and I must admit—the way he treats his mom is something else. But then, I don’t know much about that.
August shuffles around the desk and takes the appointment book in hand. “Well, all the same, I’m grateful. Lily was too, she made me take off the bandage so she could study your work all night.” August laughs when I lift a brow. “I must not have mentioned that Lily is a nurse, and frankly fascinated with blood, and needles, and wounds more than I think is healthy. She hardly gave me any sympathy. She’d rather see how close the stitches were or whatever.”
“What woman wouldn’t?” I drift toward the broom and dustpan. Since August is handling appointment calls, I figure it won’t hurt to get things cleaned up before the day begins. “How long have you two been married?”
August taps the end of the pen over the desk. “Uh, let’s see, we’re going on six years in November.”
My brows pull together. “Six years? You don’t seem old enough.”
“When you get married at nineteen, that’s what happens.”
“Nineteen!” He nods as I blow out my lips. “Wow, that’s young.”
“Ah, I knew Lily was for me when I was seventeen. No, I take that back—from the first second I saw her.”
“You’re a bit of a romantic.”
August shrugs. “What can I say, it’s a talent. Anyway, I guess we didn’t see the point in waiting simply because we were young. I can easily say I’ve not regretted that choice for a second.”
“See,” I say. “A romantic.”
“Nah, just the truth. I’m glad she hasn’t figured out she got the short end of the deal, though. I bet it’s hard to be apart from your doctor while you’re here.” I tilt my head, confused. August flushes. “Zac might’ve mentioned it.”
My heart pounds a little harder. “I didn’t know you guys spent the workday talking about my love life.”
“We don’t. Just Zac.”
I swallow with more effort and turn away because I’m not ready to dissect what that means. And I’m certainly not going to take the time to figure out why it twists my insides with a thousand fluttering wings.
“Well, I’ll take the calls,” August says. “Then you tell me what you don’t want to do most, and I’ll do that too.”
I laugh and am relieved to have another person to talk to. I even admit that I like Honeyville simply because of the few people I’ve met.
* * *
When I take out the trash a few hours later, laughter fills the front lobby when I return. I fight a gooey smile when I catch a moment where August leans against the desk, his arms wrapped tightly around Lily’s waist. Six years of marriage and a baby hadn’t dulled the gleam of young love by the looks of it.
“Jo,” Lily says and gives August a quick peck before breaking away. “We’ve come to kidnap you.”
I notice Olive and Dot for the first time. Both standing with Rafe and Zac near the front door. Zac flashes me a small smile. We’ve hardly spoken all morning. Almost like he’s avoiding me, or maybe I’m avoiding him.
Olive adjusts her school shirt, complete with the elementary school logo, kisses Rafe quickly, then hurries to me. “We’re here to take you out to lunch. It’s the end of the quarter at school, so, yay, half-day!” Olive cheers and tosses her hands in the air. “Perfect timing.”
“Oh, no,” I say. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Come on,” Dot insists. “We need to talk shop about the clinic.”
“And you stitched August’s hand—it’s the least I can do to say thank you,” Lily adds.
I take in the three women. Their kindness is unnerving to be honest. I’d been so certain that coming to Honeyville would’ve left me shunned because of the damage to Zac’s shop. On the contrary. Everyone seemed ready to become best friends. I’m not accustomed to it in the least. Emmitt is the person closest to me, but he’s not my friend, he’s my boyfriend. Watching Olive and Lily laugh with their husbands, though, I wonder for the first time if there is something missing in my own relationship.
“Go on, Jo,” Zac says. I meet his eyes and try to ignore the prickle in my gut. “One thing you should know about southern women, when they want to say thank you, it’s really best not to argue.”
“He’s right. Now, come on, let’s get out of here.” Olive insists and kisses Rafe again before she leads the way to the silver BMW in the lot.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since you came,” Olive admits after I slide into the backseat with Dot.
Lily laughs. “It’s true. Especially since it seems like Zac likes you. We all decided we need to get to know this woman better.”
My throat tightens. I shake my head. “I wouldn’t say Zac likes me, but more like tolerates me.”
Heat floods my face because Lily, Dot, and Olive hesitate, then at once they laugh and leave me wondering what Zac has said about me.
Strange enough, I’m desperate to know everything.
On The Battery, the homes are stunning. Colonial mansions of all colors: robin’s egg blue, baby pink, lavender and green. Something haunting about them draws me to study the ivy vines and moss in cobblestone alleys.
Olive, Dot, and Lily lead us to a restaurant overlooking the shoreline and seem rather pleased by my interest in downtown.
“I thought you might like it down here. It won’t do any good if you stay cooped up at Maggie’s motel the entire time you’re here. You’ll miss all the magical parts,” Olive croons, holding the door open to the restaurant.
“It is beautiful down here,” I relent.
I listen to the easy conversation between Zac’s friends. The ocean air is refreshing and adds to the jittery feel of the shoppers and tourists roaming the walks. I can see why Zac loves it here.
“Jo,” Olive says. “How are you handling the men? Are they driving you insane with their screaming music and smell?”
I grin and push some lettuce around my plate. Emmitt would lecture me about the cheeseburger with my salad, but I realize it’s sort of nice to eat at a restaurant for once without judgment. I almost sigh out loud. I’m having more of these revelations and I think I know what they’re leading me to do. I shove thoughts of Emmitt aside and look to Olive. “It wouldn’t be my first choice of workplace, but they’ve all behaved like gentlemen, no worries. You married decent men.”
“Oh, you don’t need to tell us, we know,” Lily says.
“Ugh, you shouldn’t have gotten them started,” Dot complains. “Now all I’m going to hear is Rafe this, August that.”
“Sorry.”
“Never mind all that,” Dot says. “Let’s talk about clinic work.”
My shoulders relax and lean forward onto my elbows. “Yeah, tell me about this place.”
“It’s a family clinic,” Dot tells me. “Designed as a place where low-income families can come without paying co-pays, in fact, lower costs to no cost if possible. It’s part of my family’s non-profit foundation. My daddy started it last year, and it seemed like a spectacular idea. There’s enough of a need and we’ve already got appointments booked out two months in advance, but that’s because we don’t have a doctor that’s been willing to work for us full-time. I suppose the salary isn’t as profitable as the hospital or specialty clinics, but still—I’m surprised.”
