by Judy Duarte
Damn, the poor woman had it rough. And while his paying that medical bill had undoubtedly helped her, Chase figured it would take a whole lot more than that to make her life easier.
“Where does she live?” he asked.
“In a trailer park on the other side of town.”
Chase’s memory of the night of the accident was a bit fuzzy, but he had been driving in a neighborhood. He remembered a paved road, a curb and gutter, trash cans along the side of the road—and not one single trailer or mobile home. They’d either been visiting someone or they’d wandered away from home. Either way, they should have been tucked in bed, not running in the street.
“What were those kids doing out so late the other night?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, other than looking for a cat that ran off. The little girl went after it, and then the boy went after her.”
And they’d ended up in the middle of the street with a ’63 Corvette barreling down one lane and a semi down the other.
“I’m going to visit them tomorrow during my lunch hour,” Molly said.
“Why?” he asked.
She bit down on her bottom lip as though pondering her reason. Or was she holding back on sharing it with him?
He supposed it was only natural that a nurse would have a soft spot.
Finally, she said, “I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but I suspect I’ll probably give them some money before I leave.”
“Do you do that very often?” he asked. “Give money to people in need?”
“I live pretty simply, so I have extra. And if I can help ease someone’s pain and suffering, then I do what I can.” She looked at him, those big blue eyes zooming in on him, pressing him into the mattress, making him feel even more helpless than before.
“Don’t look so surprised,” she said. “You have a generous nature, too.”
Not like that. Sure, he was glad he’d been able to help the family, but his primary motive hadn’t been all that admirable. He wasn’t about to admit it, though. Not when she was looking at him like he was some kind of hero and he knew he was anything but.
He hoped she wasn’t too naive, that she didn’t usually lay herself open to con men and others who would take advantage of her good-hearted nature. And he couldn’t help thinking that she’d given him her address when she really knew very little about him. But that information wouldn’t be used against her.
“By the way,” he said, “I talked to my mother earlier today to let her know the checkbook had arrived, and she asked about you.”
“Only because you led her to believe we were sleeping together.”
Chase couldn’t help smiling at the thought. “I never came out and said that.”
“You didn’t have to.” She smiled, and the room seemed to light up. Then she shifted in the chair. “Tell me about her.”
“Who? My mom?”
“Yes. I’m curious about the woman who raised you.”
Was she wondering about him, too? He suspected she was, and her interest in his boyhood rustled something deep inside him, something that had lain dormant for a long time.
“Her name is Sandra Mayfield, but everyone calls her Sandy. She’s a redhead—at least, she used to be. She’s also a great cook, when she doesn’t have a grandkid tugging at her and wanting to play. What else do you want to know?”
“She sounds like a nice lady. Are you two very close?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that. Why?”
“No reason.”
Chase hadn’t lived nearly thirty years without coming to the conclusion that there was always a reason behind a woman’s question.
Molly checked her pager as though making sure it was on and that she wouldn’t miss a call, but she remained seated.
“My mom used to be a champion barrel racer,” he added. “And my dad was a bull rider. That’s how they met.”
“So your parents were competitive, too,” she said. “That makes sense.”
“You can say that again. I was the youngest in a family of four rough-and-tumble boys, each one vying to be top dog.”
She smiled. “I imagine things were pretty rowdy at home.”
“Not that any of us kids noticed, although I suspect my parents would disagree.” He smiled, thinking back on the noise and the mess, while realizing his face didn’t hurt so much anymore. “I learned early on how to stand alone, how to compete, how to fight for what I wanted.”
He’d also learned to fight for what should have been rightfully his, although he wouldn’t go into that with Molly.
“So you grew up around the rodeo?” she asked.
“Not really. We’d go to the ones that were held close to town, but my mom gave up barrel racing after she got pregnant with my oldest brother, and Dad threw in the towel after the next Mayfield boy came along.”
“Was it tough for him to give it up?”
“I imagine so, but he never said. He had a family to support, and he wasn’t bringing in all that much money as a bull rider.”
“What does he do now?”
“He used to work on an oil rig,” Chase said, “but he retired.”
Actually, Phil Mayfield hadn’t gone the gold-watch route. He’d been forced to stop working for health reasons, which had been tough on the man who’d prided himself on supporting his family over the years.
It had been even tougher for him to accept financial help from one of his sons, though. But Chase was happy to do what he could, and as long as he kept his supporters happy and continued to race, it wasn’t a problem paying the medical insurance premiums, the deductibles and the medication that wasn’t covered by his dad’s plan.
“What about your mom?” Molly asked.
“She’s a housewife. There’s not much to tell. They’re good people—the salt of the earth, actually.”
She wore an unreadable expression, the kind that was hard to decipher unless you really knew a woman. The kind that made him wish he knew Molly a whole lot better.
He wondered if she was on good terms with her parents, thinking that she might not be.
“Are you close to your family?” he asked.
“I was,” she said. “I grew up in a happy, two-parent home in a small midwestern town. But when I was seventeen, my family died in an accident.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Chase had never lost anyone before, and he couldn’t imagine losing them all in one fell swoop. “How did it happen?”
“A reckless driver blasted through a red light and broadsided the minivan we were riding in.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, knowing the words were inadequate. “Were you hurt?”
“I got out with little more than a scratch.” Her eyes clouded over—with grief, he suspected.
Or had it been more than that—an eerie sense of awe and disbelief?
Chase had once been involved in a collision with another driver, Darren Rydell. Chase had come out of it completely unscathed, but Darren had been so badly injured that he’d had to give up racing for nearly a year. When he came back, he’d lost the competitive edge he’d once had, while Chase, at least to some extent, had felt almost invincible. Like he had both skill and luck on his side.
“How did it happen?” he asked, wondering about the accident, about how she’d survived.
“My mom and dad had planned a trip to my grandparents’ house in San Antonio. It was a Friday, and my dad had gotten off work early that day. He’d planned to leave home right after school let out, but there’d been a football game that night, and I was a cheerleader. It wasn’t just any game. It was one with our crosstown rivals.”
So the trip had been delayed, Chase realized.
“My mom suggested that I stay with a girlfriend that weekend, but I begged them to wait until after the game so I could go, too.” She looked away, clearly shielding herself from his gaze.
“You’re not blaming yourself for the accident, are you?”
“Not anymore. But sometimes I wonder wha
t would have happened if they had left earlier in the day, if I’d been more agreeable about staying with a friend. Maybe they wouldn’t have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Chase was a big believer in fate, which left little room for what-if questions. In his line of work, he couldn’t worry about rabbits’ feet or lucky charms. Otherwise, he’d be stressed and scared each time he accelerated or each time he went into a turn. “It wasn’t your fault, Molly.”
“You’re probably right,” she said, yet something told him she wasn’t convinced.
“You were a teenager,” he said. “A kid. Adults trump children all the time. But that time, your parents didn’t. Don’t blame yourself.”
“It was twelve years ago, so I’ve done my share of stewing over it. But it’s behind me now.”
Maybe intellectually, he thought. But the way her shoulders drooped and the missing lilt in her voice told him that she hadn’t been able to do so completely.
“I’ve had a few close calls, too,” Chase admitted. “I don’t even try to understand the ins and outs of them. Who knows why one person is born out of a million potential DNA combinations or why that same person dies before his or her time?”
She sighed. “I know you’re right, but Jimmy, my brother, was just fourteen years old. He never even had a chance to live.” She glanced at her pager again, and this time she got to her feet. “It just doesn’t seem fair.”
He reached out and grabbed her by the hand, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad you wore a seat belt that night, Molly. And I’m glad you survived. Maybe God only needed three angels, and He knew that Earth could use a heck of a nurse.”
“Maybe so,” she said, offering him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’d better get back to work, or the hospital might decide they need one less nurse.”
Chase released her hand, then watched as she walked out of the room.
They had something in common, he decided. Molly couldn’t quite understand why she’d been spared in that car accident.
And Chase, who’d been an unexpected, change-of-life baby in his family, had never been sure why he’d been born.
Chapter Four
Molly couldn’t believe she’d stayed in Chase’s room for so long.
Or that she’d told him about the accident. She rarely talked about it anymore, even though it no longer haunted her as it had when the loss had been fresh, the pain so raw. But she still didn’t like the fact that their conversation had stirred up memories of that dark and frightful night.
Of course, he seemed to stir up a lot of other things, too—like an attraction to her patient and a curiosity about him and the life he lived outside the hospital.
As she worked at the nurses’ desk, she glanced up to see Colleen Bradley, one of the physical therapists on staff at BVMC, approach.
“Dr. Nielson asked me to stop by and see Mr. Mayfield,” Colleen said, “but she didn’t tell me which room he’s in.”
Colleen, an attractive brunette in her early thirties, was tall, curvaceous and single, which had never seemed to matter before. But now, as Molly thought about her introducing herself to Chase, a twinge of something akin to jealousy sparked.
She’d come to enjoy the flirtatious conversations she’d had with Chase and didn’t like the thought of him focusing his attention on anyone else.
Yet she had no claims on the man, and she was crazy to even consider taking their playful banter to heart.
So she managed a friendly grin and said, “He’s in room three-ten.”
“Thanks.” Colleen returned a pretty smile, which only caused the green-eyed twinge to burrow in.
What was that all about? Molly had always liked Colleen, who was a professional and not in the habit of hitting on male patients.
But then again, neither was Molly.
Still, the uneasiness hounded her for the next ten—no, make that eleven and a half—minutes until Colleen finally exited Chase’s room.
“I didn’t know that Dr. Nielson had ordered PT for him,” Molly said.
“She didn’t. Mr. Mayfield is going to be discharged tomorrow, so she wanted me to give him some exercises to work on at home.”
He was leaving tomorrow?
Molly knew it would be soon, but she hadn’t expected…
Well, she wasn’t quite ready…
The uneasiness built into a gnawing ache, although she couldn’t figure out why. She’d been unhappy about having the race car driver assigned to her in the first place, and she’d been eager to see him go.
Yet now…?
She refused to give it any more thought. She’d just have to reel in any misplaced attraction for Chase Mayfield. No way could she risk losing her head over that man. She had a job to do, a career that not only meant the world to her, it had become her main purpose in life, a purpose that had arisen after the accident.
Jimmy, who’d not only been her younger brother but her closest friend, had lingered for almost two days before dying from his injuries, and Molly had stuck by his bedside until the end. She’d been too scared, too numb, at that point to be very aware of the hospital staff, although she’d known they’d been kind.
A year later, though, when Grandpa had been at Riverview Memorial following his heart attack, she’d been impressed with the compassion of the medical professionals who’d attended him. At that time, she’d begun to realize that she wanted to show that same kindness to others, to help them heal and get on with their lives.
The sound of the food cart rolling down the corridor drew her from her musing, and she glanced at the clock on the wall—6:03. The patients’ dinners were right on time.
But rather than allow Amy Pederson to deliver all of the plates, Molly decided to pull out Chase’s tray and take it to him herself.
“I was just heading to room three-ten,” she said. “Why don’t I take this one for you?”
For a moment, she pondered her reason for volunteering, but she quickly shook it off. It was probably best if she didn’t think about her motive.
As she carried the tray into Chase’s room, where he lay stretched out on the bed watching a ball game on TV, she said, “It’s time to eat.”
He turned down the volume, then brought the head of his mattress into a higher sitting position. “I hope you brought pizza and beer tonight. There’s a game on.”
“Oh, what a shame.” She placed his meal on the tray table, then lifted the lid, revealing the food. “I think you’re stuck with baked chicken, rice and green beans. But wait. There’s tapioca pudding for dessert. Would you look at that?” She offered him a playful smile. “Yum! It sure looks good.”
“Lucky me.”
Instead of slipping away and returning to work, she hung out for a while, watching him poke at his food, noting that the swelling had gone way down in his face, that the bruises were fading. That he was beginning to look more and more like the photo on his driver’s license each day.
The physical improvement meant he’d most likely be discharged soon, just like Colleen had said. And in spite of her initial uneasiness about being assigned to this particular patient, she wasn’t at all happy to see him go.
She hated to admit it, but she enjoyed teasing him as much as he seemed to like teasing her. She supposed it was part of his fun-loving nature, but she didn’t like the idea that he might have shared the same flirtatious banter with Colleen.
“How’d your meeting with the physical therapist go?” she asked, feigning indifference.
“Not bad. She worked with me a few minutes, then showed me some things I should do at home.”
“Where’s home?” Molly asked. She knew from her research, of course, but didn’t want him to suspect she’d been seeking information about him on the Internet.
“Houston.”
Molly nodded, acknowledging that she’d heard him, but she didn’t leave. Instead, she remained in his room and watched him take a bite of chicken.
“Colleen said I
was going to be discharged tomorrow,” he said.
“She mentioned that to me, too, although I haven’t talked to Dr. Nielson, and that will have to be her call.” Either way, Molly realized, Chase would be leaving soon. And when he was gone, her workdays wouldn’t be as enjoyable as they’d been since he’d been assigned to her.
“I’m going to have to find someone to get me some clothes to wear,” he said. “Mine disappeared.”
“We had to cut your clothing off when the paramedics brought you in.” The night she’d undressed him, she thought, and at the memory, a smile stretched across her lips.
“What about my boots?” he asked.
“They should be in the closet here.” She walked to the small wardrobe and opened the door. “Yes, they are.”
“That’s good to know.” He tossed her a crooked grin. “I don’t suppose you know someone who might pick me up a pair of jeans and a shirt? I’ll make it worth his or her time.”
Apparently, he didn’t want to ask a friend or family member to do it for him. Instead, he was willing to pay someone to do it.
Normally, Molly didn’t offer to do anything out of the ordinary for patients, but Chase was different from the rest. And there was also a shopping center a couple of blocks from her house and she wouldn’t have to drive. “I’ll do it as a favor, as long as I know what colors you like and what size you wear.”
“Get me an extra-large shirt, and I’ll trust you on the color. As far as the jeans go, I take a thirty-four in the waist and a thirty-two in length. And I’d prefer the boot cut, if you can find them.”
“Consider it done.” To be honest, she was actually looking forward to shopping for him. She’d pick up some underwear and socks, too.
It almost made her feel like a wife or a girlfriend, which was…interesting. She let the thought play out in her mind. Moments later, she said, “I’ll bet you’re looking forward to going home.”
