by Janna Hill
Avoiding him was not an easy task considering he had to eat at least twice a day and The Eats & Ale was the best restaurant for miles. That and the fact that every fiber in her being was drawn to him.
When he came in to the café she managed to reassign herself to the kitchen or the bar. If he came to the bar to chat over a cold Guinness or a glass of cheap Cabernet Sauvignon she resorted to cleaning toilets.
Anything to escape the gentle giant she had no intentions of falling for. If she could just hold out a few more weeks he would be moving on.
Chapter 4
The Party
The O’Bromley’s had prepared a colossal celebration in honor of Clara.
Not that the Irish descendants needed a reason to celebrate but this was special, young Clara was the first nurse that either side of the family had ever produced, or at least to their knowledge.
A huge banner hung over the bar in dark capital letters that read
~CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR LITTLE CLARA ~
SHE’S A NURSE
As if any one needed to be reminded. Mrs. O’Bromley was not one for unnecessary items to be lying about or cluttering up the place but on this day streamers hung from the ceiling, every table was adorned with balloons and flowers, and colorful confetti littered the usually spotless tiled floor. The air was thick with the delicious smell of corned beef and a hint of beer. Friends and relatives who hadn’t been seen in years made the pilgrimage to share in the O’Bromley’s joy and some quiet frankly came for the open bar and free food.
The sign on the front door read, Closed For Private Party but even a stranger would not have been turned away.
“Come in. Come in.” Mr. O’Bromley said to every arrival as he shook their hand, hugged them or patted them on the back. He was not normally the touchy feely type but on this day he was exuberant. Clara hadn’t seen her father this excited in quiet some time and it made her heart swell with pride and joy at the sight of his happiness.
“Jimbo, Come in, come in –so glad you could make it.”
Jimbo… Clara wondered, noticing her father raise his voice an octave or two
who on earth…?
“Look here Clara who has graced us with his presence.” Mr. O’Bromley called out motioning Clara over.
As soon as Clara realized that Jimbo was the same Jim she had laboriously been avoiding she pretended not to see or hear her father and quickly busied herself with the other guests, but it was pointless.
Mr. O’Bromley was dragging Jim across the room, pushing through the crowd that had gathered at the tap for self serve refills and soon they were standing right beside her.
“Look here Clara,” he yelled within inches of her ear “Jimbo has come to wish you well.”
“I’m not hard of hearing Pops.” Clara said rubbing her right ear.
“Sorry sweetie, guess cause I am I think everyone else is.” Mr. O’Bromley said, giving her a quick peck on the head.
“Just when did you take to calling him Jimbo?” Clara asked through a phony smile that looked more like a grimace.
“I think it was after he fixed me old truck.” Mr. O’Bromley chuckled slapping Jim on the back, “I’ll leave you two young uns to it.” Then he danced away to play host.
“Congratulations Clara.” Jim said as he placed a beautiful bouquet of straight pink and white roses in her arms. “Thank you.” She replied without looking up.
“I hear you passed the exam and have a job already, in a specialty department at that. That is awesome.” His words were so heartfelt, so enthusiastic that Clara felt shameful for treating him so coolly.
“ICU.” Clara answered, still avoiding any eye contact. “ICU is what they call it.
Intensive Care Unit. But I guess that’s common knowledge – I mean most people know that.”
“True.” Jim nodded.
Clara held the roses like one holding an infant, rocking side to side and straining to steer clear of Jim’s gaze, hoping that her awkward silence would force him away from her to mingle with the other blokes at the bar.
“I think you could lay them down now, they look like their asleep.” Jim laughed.
“What?” Clara asked before getting the gist of his joking remark.
“Oh, yes. I’ll get a vase.” Grateful for a reason to step away she hurried to the cabinet beneath the gift covered counter to retrieve a vase. She stooped down to view the collection and picked out a beautiful hand blown wine colored container that had been a gift from Mrs. O’Bromley’s brother.
Clara had no real memory of the uncle that had bestowed the beautiful vase upon her mother though it seemed she did from the stories her mother had told along with the photo that had been on the mantel as long as she could recall. He was a striking dark haired Scotsman with a big heart and a wandering spirit. Had he lived long enough to settle down with a family it would’ve had to be gypsies because he could never stay in one place long enough to see a baby born. At least that’s what Clara’s mother had said of the handsome Duffy MacDougal always followed with , He always stood between me and hard times, God love his soul and may he rest in peace.
Mrs. O’Bromley was not a sentimental person in regard to keeping things but the vase was one of the things that spoke to the heart as she would say.
Rising and anxious to get the roses arranged and hydrated Clara wasn’t expecting that Jim would have followed her so to see him standing there beside her and so close she was startled and watched the beloved container shatter as it hit the floor.
“That was mother’s favorite vase.” Clara cried, scrambling to pick up the pieces.
“It’s just a vase.” Jim said.
“Just a vase?” Clara squealed, “It’s all my mother has OR HAD left of her brother.”
“I’m so sorry.” Jim said trying to console her, “She’ll understand.” as he bent down and began gathering the shards of glass.
“I know, but there are so very few things that really mean anything to her and this was one of them. Ohhh, you don’t realize… She’ll say that it’s okay but she’ll be sad. Lord, it might break her heart” Clara was so caught up in the busted vase that just for a second she let her guard down and looked.
There they were those hot cocoa colored eyes, the smell of warm chocolate cake fresh out of the oven, rising, rising…
This time it was over, there was no fight left in her, moreover she didn’t want to fight it. His stare fit like a favorite pair of pants and he made her feel at peace with herself- no not just herself –he made her feel at peace with the world.
She knew it was ridiculously too soon to feel this way… she wasn’t sure if she imagined it, if she said it or Jim but she heard the words I love you.
Eight weeks later Clara O’Bromley and Jim Havel were married.
Chapter 5
The Good Bye Kiss
“Stop it, I mean it.” Clara giggled drawing her shoulders up in response to the tickling.
“Just give in.” Jim playfully persisted.
“No!” Clara yelled suddenly pushing him away with surprising force.
Jim stepped back with his arms in the air, “Whoa,” he said, looking at the livid defensive woman who had seconds’ earlier oozed giggles and smiles. “What happened?”
Embarrassed and ashamed for the hurt look on Jim’s face Clara quickly hugged her small frame against him, “Oh honey I’m sorry.” She said pressing her body to his, wishing she could physically meld them into one being. Comforting herself more than him she held on until the security of his arms engulfed her and took her to a place of somber quiet where only they existed.
Jim didn’t hurry the embrace, he didn’t speak, he had a way of savoring the moment as he held her until she was ready to let go. Then he felt her relax and slide her hands down his back, over his hips and into his waiting hands.
“I’m sorry.” She said again, this time looking straight into his eyes.
The angry cynical Clara that had reared an ugly head was gone. The sam
e woman that had pushed him away and then pulled him to her now looked like a bewildered child.
“You wanna talk about it?” Jim asked.
“No, I really don’t.” Clara said rubbing her thumbs nervously over his.
“You busted a nail.” Jim said as he examined the reminiscent pale red streak that ran horizontal to her eyebrow.
Clara continued the nervous rubbing until Jim gently raised her hands for examination.
“That one.” He said pointing out the chipped fingernail and turning her palms up he noticed the reddened marks only a clenched fist could make. Marks so red it looked like they might trickle blood and grooves, deep calloused grooves that over time had become scars.
Without a word Jim placed her dainty hands to his face and kissed her palms repeatedly.
Pressing his lips and holding as if he could suck the venomous visions from her head and save her… but from what?
“I’m going in early tonight.” Clara said, kissing him on the forehead and turning back to the counter to put away the lunch box and thermos as if none of the last twenty minutes had occurred.
“Clara,” Jim spoke hesitantly, “I’m worried. This isn’t healthy – do you know what I mean? I think maybe you should see a doctor.”
“I know,” Clara replied patting his jaw in a motherly fashion “But I doubt there is any type of doctor that can fix me.”
“Maybe a sleeping pill or something?” He asked. Clara detected a hint of desperation in his voice, so unlike the calm steely man she knew and she felt remorse for causing him such unease.
“Please don’t worry Jim. You know it only adds more stress to the situation.”
Seeing the love in Clara’s face, in her words and wanting to put her at peace more than himself Jim exclaimed, “If just for today, I shall not worry!” and smiled.
“Done.” Clara said, “Now kiss me good bye & tell me you love me.”
As soon as the words left her mouth his lips were on hers. His kisses were soft, warm and sweet like the center of a honeysuckle bloom. Gently massaging her mouth with his till a tingling stirred in her thighs, till her breasts swelled and throbbed and the slow burning in her groin became a wet fire. The sweet aroma of warm cake overwhelmed her as Jim softly sat her on the counter. She wasn’t sure how he’d gotten her pants off and it didn’t matter as he pressed inside her and she opened wider and wider, pushing her hips forward feeling for a way, craving to be as one. Clutching one another tightly, bracing for the explosion and in a final thrust the heavens opened up for a millisecond.
Panting through a devilish smile Clara whispered, “That was some good bye.”
“Oh no” said Jim, “That was I love you & I would like to tell you again.”
“Later” Clara laughed, “I have to go to work. Now where are my pants?”
“Here they are.” Jim said while retrieving the cotton scrubs from the kitchen table,
“I took `em off, guess it’s only right I put `em back on.”
Clara freshened up, grabbed her bag and hurried to the door. Looking back at Jim she winked and said, “Don’t forget to clean the kitchen.”
Chapter 6
Intro to ER
“You can stay and work the ER with me or you can go home.” Maggie announced before Clara could put her bag down.
“What do you mean?” Clara asked.
“No patients in here tonight so Linda said you have the option of going home and being on call or you can stay and work the ER with me.”
“I’ll stay.” Clara said excitedly.
Linda Latrull was the unit supervisor, an attractive woman who looked to be in her mid thirties and though she was always pleasant she rarely smiled, not a real smile anyway. Occasionally she would force a tight lipped attempt at a smile that barely lifted her painted on cheeks but it couldn’t hide the deep unhappiness in her dark brown eyes.
Clara watched as Maggie gathered her belongings into a gym sized duffle bag. The same things she brought in every night and left with every morning. A Tupperware plate filled with left overs, last months People Magazine, several one gallon Ziploc bags containing skeins of yarn in every color, some crocheting needles, an old gray jersey jacket and a pack of Pall Mall cigarettes.
Maggie liked to think of herself as a good girl scout, always prepared for the unexpected, or at least the mundane.
Rummaging through her pocket Maggie extracted a cluster of keys held together by a ring of purple rubber, motioning Clara out the door and making certain the deadbolt locked she heaved the duffle strap over her shoulder and announced, “Okay, let’s go kiddo.”
“Let’s go.” Clara echoed, falling in behind her.
There were three ways in or out of the ER. The front door which opened into the lobby for walk ins, the back door to the parking lot for ambulance arrivals and a small door that opened into a space shared with the laboratory on a back hallway for staff only.
The modest emergency room had four beds, five if you counted the gurney parked by the desk. Three of the beds were divided by heavy curtains in outdated colors; the fourth bed was centered in a room squared with Plexiglas. There was no such thing as privacy, you could be seen and not heard or vise versa but it didn’t matter much in a small town where news traveled faster than the ambulance and everyone knew your business.
The phone rang and Maggie yanked it up mid ring, “ER – Maggie Turner. Uh- huh. Yeah, yeah. Damn! Don’t matter the name. We’ll be ready, bring her in.”
She hung up the phone and hurried to the back door. Smiling at Clara like a kid on Christmas morning “Call the doc stat. Notify lab we need all they’ve got of O negative plus some and be ready for a type and cross match. Oh and get your skates on, we’re about to get our first customer and it’s a doozie.”
Clara done as she was instructed and within five minutes the on call doctor strolled in from the physicians lounge, stretched and with heavy morning breath asked, “What’s the deal?”
Suppressing a mild gag Clara choked out, “Twenty eight year old white female with major lacerations to the femoral arteries. Unconscious with alcohol detected.”
Before Clara could say more Maggie yelled, “Damn that was fast. They’re here.” and within seconds two blood stained paramedics were running through the door, one on either side of the stretcher heaped with red sheets and gauze. A bag of intravenous fluid hanging from a stainless steel pole, swung wildly and hit one of them in the head, he ducked the next one without missing a step. Both of them were applying pressure to the groin and like a dance Maggie and the doctor glided in and slid the dying woman onto a bed. Seconds later two units of blood were hanging and the doc was suturing and cauterizing.
“Good thing vascular is your specialty.” Maggie said, tearing into another pack of sutures.
“Not sure anything I do is gonna save this one.” He replied.
“Whew, doc are y’all out of mouth wash in there?” Maggie asked, pretending to cough.
“Which is worse”, asked the doctor totally unaffected by Maggie’s bluntness as he continued to repair the arteries, “My breath or the stench of burning flesh?”
“Your breath for sure.” Maggie laughed.
Clara felt like a deer caught in the head lights as she stood back waiting for someone to tell her what to do.
“She got into the ligament on this one but we can’t worry with that right now. You wanna take a look?” The doctor asked, glancing toward Clara.
“Umm, sure.” Clara stammered as she stepped up to get a better look.
“Oh my gosh!” She gasped in surprise, “What done that?”
“She done it!” The paramedic speaking was a seasoned looking older man with confidence and a kind face. “Cut herself in such a way – she meant business.” He stated as he stood over the sink scrubbing the dried blood from his hands.
The lacerations were about five inches long and running the length of both femoral arteries through the groin.
“And she may have very well succe
eded. This is odd, odd indeed.” The doctor said, shaking his head. “I don’t understand how she’s still alive to tell you the truth.”
The lab technician stepped in with the third unit of blood and announced,
“That’s all we have… that is all I can get and guess what…”
“She is O negative.” Maggie replied without looking away, “Clara get another liter of D5W.”
Clara ran to where the IV fluids were stored. The bin with the label that read Dextrose 5% was empty. Frantically she rummaged through the bags to no avail and yelled back, “There’s not any!”
“Then bring a half liter.” Maggie called back.
“None of that either. You want a normal saline?” Clara asked.
“Hell NO!” Maggie and the doctor said in unison.
“Gawd dammit!” Maggie yelled, “Run to the floor Clara and I mean run as fast as you can and get back her with all you can carry. NOW!”
“Yes ma’am.” Clara said as she sprinted out.
“Who the hell was in charge of stocking?” Maggie continued cursing, “Someone’s ass is in deep voodoo. That makes me so fracking mad!”
“Calm down you foul mouthed woman.” The doctor chortled.
Clara raced back panting but with an amazing quickness, threw four of the five bags she acquired onto the desk, removed the nearly dry bag and hung the fresh liter of 5 % dextrose.
“What next?” she asked.
“Bump the O2 up a couple of liters then scratch my nose.” The doctor instructed her.
Clara leaned forward to adjust the oxygen and only then looked at the woman’s face.
Staggering back she whispered, “Dear sweet Jesus Maggie, do you know who this is?”
“Don’t need to know.” Looking at the expression on Clara’s face Maggie quickly added, “And I don’t want to hear it, not right now. Let’s get her patched up first then we can freak out, okay?” Maggie continued blotting and snipping in rhythm with the doctor waiting on Clara to say more.
