by Debra Holt
She could still hear the echo of his laughter. Unfortunately, it was one of the few things she still remembered with any clarity. More and more, he was slipping away from her, his memory fading, and that scared her. As long as she could hold on to the memories, he was still there to protect her, to keep her heart secure.
He had gone through his carry-on bag later at his parents’ home and handed her the photo. She cherished the picture because he had given it to her … especially after the events of the rest of that terrible day.
Twenty-six months had passed since a random act of violence had taken him from her. That’s how the police described the event—a random act of violence. David had volunteered to run to the local convenience store to pick up a couple of bags of ice for the backyard barbecue his family threw to welcome him home. She stayed behind at the house to help with the last of the food preparations. The fifteen-minute trip had stretched into over an hour. Calls placed to his cell phone went unanswered. Mercy had experienced concern and annoyance in equal amounts.
Then the patrol car pulled into the driveway. Life changed for all of them at that moment. At the time, she didn’t hear all the details the officers gave, but the basic facts sank in, along with the cries of his mother when she collapsed into her husband’s arms. The stunned silence and pain on the faces of the rest of the group formed part of a kaleidoscope of memories as they had tried to console his parents and Mercy. Mercy had done what she did best; she put on a brave face and focused on his parents’ anguish. She had not been able to deal with her own feelings for some time after the days that followed.
The facts were stark. David had arrived at the store. While he paid for the ice, two armed teenagers—one eighteen and the other just fifteen—entered the store and grabbed a woman hostage. Then they held David and the store clerk at gunpoint and demanded money. As they left with the woman, David stepped forward and offered himself in her place. The fifteen-year-old responded by shooting David. The bullet had lodged in his brain.
Three days later, his parents and Mercy had watched the doctors turn off the life-support systems. All their tears and begging and prayers of pleading … all to no avail. David’s death wasn’t the first time Mercy’s heart had been ripped apart that way, but she’d determined it would be the last. Even more than that, she had closed the door on ever placing faith in an unseen higher being who was supposed to hear prayers, perform miracles, and protect the good and faithful. David had survived a foreign battlefield only to return to his hometown and lose his life in a senseless act.
Twice, she had placed faith in God that those she loved the most— David and her father—would be protected and returned to her, and twice her prayers had fallen on deaf ears. She’d decided to leave to others placing their faith where they wished. From that point on, she focused her faith on her own abilities and those of others in the medical profession. As time went by though, she realized anger had replaced the pain of loss. Now she lived with that anger buried deeply inside her.
People, including her mother, told her it was time to get back into life. She had done so. She’d had dates with more than one man her family and well-meaning friends had considered a “real catch.” Not one had stuck in her mind after the front door closed at the end of the evening.
Peanut’s soft meow and rub against her leg brought her back to the present. Mercy shut her mind on those painful thoughts. She had a career she loved, a small home of her own, and friends and family. That was all she needed.
There was also a list of errands to run before her shift at the hospital. With a swift kiss blown in Peanut’s direction, she grabbed her bag and headed out the door.
The hospital visiting hours were in progress when Mercy arrived with fifteen minutes to spare before her shift began. She stepped inside the elevator and watched the numbers light as she traveled upward to her usual floor. She felt a strange tug, aware of the urge to stop on the third floor and check on the sheriff. Mercy told herself his family was likely in attendance, and she didn’t want to interrupt precious time. Besides, she needed to get past whatever this man had that kept drawing her thoughts to him. He was a patient. Period. He would heal, and he would be gone. Then he would be replaced by many more in need of care.
There wasn’t much time to dwell on such things anyway. As soon as Mercy stepped onto the floor, her beeper sounded. She saw Paul and Jorge on their way toward the outside door. Stepping inside the “go room,” she changed quickly and caught up with them at the helipad.
“Midland, Texas,” Paul informed her as they climbed aboard. “They have a young college student in critical condition at a local hospital. He was hiking in the Davis Mountains, took a bad fall down a cliff. They’ve managed to stabilize him, but he needs critical surgery and a trauma unit as swiftly as possible.”
Again, the invisible clock ticked relentlessly. Time was everything. Time literally made the difference between life and death for many of the patients who counted on their swift response. Their many hours of training and practice honed their skills to keep this team as sharp and responsive as possible. Each member had a job to do—the team worked seamlessly, together and apart. Mercy felt proud to be their leader.
A familiar adrenaline coursed through her—and no doubt each of them—as the craft lifted and swung toward the southwestern sky. The sun glittered on the horizon to their right. The craft skimmed through the sky, its shadow playing over the brown flatness below. A hot, dry summer was at hand, and the days lengthened and shadows shortened.
They responded to three more calls after the trip to Midland, one after another. To her relief, none of the calls involved a loss of life. A positive day. Just after midnight, Mercy finally looked up from the paperwork on her desk. Mercy’s was never a nine-to-five job; the hours blurred together after flying hundreds of miles in a transport or got tied up with more than one call per shift. The dreaded paperwork always had to be completed, and Mercy preferred to get the task out of the way before she left. She placed the last comment in the logbook and threw her bag over her shoulder. She had changed from flight gear back into her jeans and green blouse at the end of her shift. She ignored the elevators and took the stairs down four flights to the third floor, went through the Personnel Only door, and found herself in front of the ICU desk.
Randall Patterson was on duty. If he seemed surprised to see her in his unit, he made no comment. The older man had been at the hospital for almost fifteen years and kept his thoughts to himself, gossip to a minimum. Mercy liked him. In his spare time, he wrote cowboy poetry and played fiddle in a western swing band. At one point, she’d even thought about trying her own hand at matchmaking by setting up her mother with him, until she found out Randall had a sweet wife at home and seven grandchildren. That had been her first and last attempt as a matchmaker. She’d decided to leave that role to her mother.
“I thought I would stop in and check on the patient we airlifted in yesterday—the sheriff in Cubicle C. How’s he doing today?”
“It’s been uneventful … a no-news-is-good-news kind of day. He’s been asleep most of the time, thanks to the meds. When he has been awake, he keeps mumbling things about an angel who saved him. Keeps asking for her. Maybe he’ll calm down now.”
The way he concluded his remarks brought her eyes to his face immediately. His expression was even except for the telltale hint of a half-grin lifting the corner of his mouth. His eyes held a secretive gleam, and he produced a slow wink. Warmth crept up the back of Mercy’s neck. She didn’t say anything but turned and moved to the cubicle. She stopped just inside the doorway as she had done the previous evening.
Sheriff Wellman lay quietly in much the same pose as the night before. The strange catch was in her chest when her eyes settled on him.
She took a couple of steps into the room. Her gaze went to the monitors out of habit.
“I knew you’d come back. What took you so long?”
The timbre of his voice had strengthened. She found she liked th
e sound because it matched the man. Mercy looked and found his eyes open, his gaze steady upon her. The blue clarity grabbed her attention immediately, warming her insides. Long, dark lashes that would make most women envious framed the blue orbs. She had hoped to look in on him and be on her way. Who am I kidding?
“You’re improving. That’s good news.” She paused, looking for something to say. She finally latched onto the fact that staying professional remained the best course. “Keep it up and you’ll be out of ICU soon.”
“Thanks to you.” His voice wasn’t as steady as his gaze. He obviously spoke with effort due to the pain and discomfort of his wounds. She knew he had tried to refuse some of the pain medications. He’s a tough guy. She decided it suited him.
“I just did my part. No more than anyone else here has done to help you. It’s a team effort.”
“Nice speech, angel, but I’ll stand by what I said. I heard some of the nurses talking this morning. You bought me the time needed for the docs here to do their thing. That’s pretty big in my book. So humor me and don’t argue with a helpless, wounded man.” His attempt at a smile didn’t quite succeed, ending in a slight grimace of discomfort.
“Something tells me no one would ever consider you a helpless man … even with a few bullet holes in you. You need to stop talking and get back to sleep. Rest is what your body needs the most right now in order to heal.”
“What I need is to get out of here. They told me I can’t go to my own officer’s funeral. How about it? You have pull around here. Talk to them for me and make them see reason. Please?”
Mercy moved a step closer to stand beside the bed. Her voice, no longer soft in tone, was a mixture of professional and no-nonsense delivery. “I’m sorry about your officer, but the doctors are correct. You’re in no shape to get out of this bed, let alone leave the hospital. Your condition is still listed as critical and for good reason.”
“I’m not a very good patient. I’m not used to doing nothing but lying in bed.”
“The sooner you do what you need in order to heal, the sooner you can get back to your duties and your officers. Look at it that way. Now you do need to get some sleep.” She went to turn away, but his hand claimed hers quickly. Mercy’s eyes met his.
“Promise you’ll stop by again tomorrow? If I have that to look forward to, I’ll be able to sleep.” His voice was capable of making her common sense take leave. Combined with the hypnotic blue gleam in his eyes, they made a potent mixture. “Do we have a deal, angel?”
She should have known better. Of course, if she’d listened to her brain, she wouldn’t have come to check on him the first night.
“I’ll try.”
“My angel plays hard to get—”
“I’m no angel.”
Her words brought a lift of one fine eyebrow as he studied her. “Now that just gave me more incentive to follow orders and get stronger so I can get out of this bed. I may have to pursue that statement. But for the sake of argument, I say that you are a living, breathing angel with a beautiful soul in those deep brown eyes.”
The small room grew warm, yet goose bumps ran riot over her flesh … in a very good way. Supreme effort was required on her part to move. “Goodnight, Sheriff.” Mercy retrieved her hand and made the doorway before he answered.
“It’s Josh. Call me Josh,” he said. “Goodnight, sweet angel of mercy.”
She cast a side-glance, but his eyes had already closed. Mercy made no reply. She didn’t stop at the nurses’ station but headed straight to the exit and disappeared into the stairwell. Leaving the hospital a few minutes later, she walked into the moonless night. Joshua Wellman was an enigma. Why did she feel so drawn to him? From the very moment he’d looked into her eyes in the helicopter, she’d felt this strange attraction. What set him apart from the hundreds of other patients she’d come across? The difference begged an answer that she couldn’t find. Maybe she feared what she felt in some way, afraid of dissecting the whole issue too closely. She panicked for a second when she tried to pull up the sound of her David’s laughter. The only response was a pair of blue eyes and a man who called her his angel.
Chapter Three
Mercy didn’t make a late night visit to the sheriff’s room the next evening. Instead, she went by earlier in the day, prior to the beginning of her shift. Candy, the nurse on desk duty, gave Mercy a wide smile when she saw her approach.
“Let me guess,” she said. “I bet you’re just checking on our handsome patient in Cube C again. We have certainly become popular with you lately.”
“He asked me to stop by today. I’ll take your word that he’s handsome.” Mercy turned toward the room, hoping the flush she felt wasn’t evident on her cheeks and that her expression managed to look noncommittal.
“He’s got a visitor right now. It might get a little crowded in there.”
The nurse’s words halted her midway. Mercy moved back to stand at the desk.
“I wouldn’t want to interrupt family time. I can come back later.”
“She’s been in there for several minutes. Family gets fifteen minutes every hour, so she should be out shortly if you want to wait.”
“Did you get a look at the woman in C?” Jack Kline, another floor nurse, asked as he walked around the desk, exchanging one stack of folders for another and shaking his head.
“What about her?” Candy responded.
Mercy made no comment, debating with herself whether she should wait or return later; only half her mind paid attention to the conversation.
“A tall, cool blonde with legs a mile long,” Jack answered with a wolfish grin. “Our sheriff there has a knockout for a fiancée. Those cowboy types always get the good ones, don’t they?”
Fiancée. The word dropped like a proverbial lead balloon at Mercy’s feet. She blinked a time or two as her mind registered the impact. Are you serious? She should have guessed. But why would she? Mercy’s mind clicked to the present when she felt Candy’s eyes on her. Was that a hint of sympathy in her gaze? Pity? Did the woman think she’d become invested emotionally on a personal level with this patient? Ridiculous. She certainly didn’t need anyone’s pity.
“I won’t wait. I have work to do. Talk to you all later.” She wasted little time in leaving the unit. Once inside the elevator, leaning against the back wall, she expelled a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. A sharp stab of something had hit just below her rib cage when Jack made the surprise statement. She refused to allow her mind to dwell on why she had such a reaction. Perhaps because, for the first time in a long time, she’d been attracted to a desirable member of the opposite sex. That was all. Just a chemical reaction. Over before it got started. If anything, Mercy felt ridiculous. Her interest in Sheriff Wellman … whatever it was … had effectively ended. His fiancée could visit him. No way would she allow pain to rise at that thought. She immediately deposited the feeling into that dark hole where she’d relegated so many other things over the last few years that threatened to inflict pain upon a heart she had dedicated herself to protecting.
When the elevator doors opened on her floor, Mercy had a smile glued to her face.
Her team had been busy for a solid three days. Each time a part of her mind began to drift into forbidden territory in the ICU, she jerked it back. On the third day, though, she had a difficult moment. Mercy sat at her desk completing another air transport report when the phone rang.
“Hey, girl.” Candy’s familiar voice greeted her. “I’m calling because one of our patients—the good-looking one in Cubicle C—has been giving my staff fits lately. How about stopping by after your shift so he’ll calm down?”
Mercy hesitated. Part of her actually considered the request—the soft part around her heart—but her brain recited the word fiancée, over and over. She politely but decidedly declined before she hung up.
By the time the weekend arrived, she felt exhausted. Mercy called her mom. The call remained brief as her mom sounded busy with one
of her projects. Just as well, Mercy thought, she desperately needed sleep. The hardest part of the week had been focusing her thoughts away from those blue eyes that kept asserting themselves at the oddest moments. Maybe she needed to find a hobby … or join a gym. She’d look into the gym idea, she decided.
When Monday came around, Mercy felt more like herself. She entered the hospital with a smile on her face and lightness to her step. Things were looking up.
She should have known the mood was too good to last. No sooner had she entered the first floor than her pager beeped. The page wasn’t an emergency, rather the extension for their chief of staff. She rerouted her steps to the administrative wing.
“That was quick,” Sandra Fernandez said with a smile, looking up from her desk as Mercy pushed through the glass door of the office suite. “You can go in. He’s between appointments.”
Mercy responded with her own smile and a brief tap on the closed door. A quick “enter” brought her hand to the doorknob.
“Good afternoon, Mercy. Glad you came so quickly. Have a seat.” The older man, dressed in a business suit, motioned to the chair in front of his desk. Dr. James Kilburn was six months from retirement. He had been chief of staff for the last eight years, and prior to that, he’d been a general surgeon for over thirty years. That his wife had told him it was time to enjoy life was common knowledge … and she meant business. Mercy liked his no-nonsense approach to medicine and his fair treatment of staff. They would miss him.
“I’ll make this brief. We’ve had a request from St. John’s and the Air Guard in western New Mexico. No doubt you’ve heard via the nightly news reports that wildfires have been going nonstop for the last few weeks there and in eastern Arizona.” When she nodded, he continued. “They’ve been working around the clock. Resources and manpower are stretched to the max. They’ve asked for any available help. The board agreed to send a team and a chopper out to them. They certainly responded to our need when we had that devastating tornado three years ago. I assumed you would want to choose the members, since you know them best.”
