by Mary Leo
It most certainly was not about hooking up with a captivating woman he’d met in a bar.
“You don’t know me. I could be a terrible person.”
“A little misguided perhaps, but definitely not terrible.”
“How can you be so sure?
“It’s right there in your eyes. Besides, I’m a good judge of character.”
Gage turned his back to the bar, to get a better look at his judge in cowgirl boots. “And what kind of character do you see in me?”
“It’s your demeanor, and the fact that you’re covered in dust. I’d say you just parked in the dirt parking lot behind this hotel. You seem a bit shaky, so I’m going to guess you’re coming off a long drive with your grandfather. And, for some reason, you and he have a strained relationship that you’re trying to mend, thus the sparkling water and not a beer or something stronger to hamper your reactions. That makes you a stand-up kind of guy.”
Gage was stunned. “What are you, some kind of psychic or something?”
She laughed. “Not exactly, I just went through almost the same experience with my grandmother. Note the dust on my boots.”
She held out her leg, and sure enough her brown cowgirl boots were covered in a thin coating of white dust.
She said, “I take it you and your grandfather are here for the Zane Grey convention?”
He knocked off the rest of his soda and asked the bartender for another. “We sure are.”
“First time?”
“Yep. Been hearing about this convention for more years than I can remember. Read most every book the man ever wrote. Had to. Gramps wouldn’t let me ride Smokey, my favorite horse, if I didn’t read at least four chapters every day during the summers I visited him. Those were some of the best times of my childhood.”
“Same here, only it wasn’t for a ride on a horse. My grandma made the absolute best cakes and cookies in the entire world, and she wouldn’t teach me how to make them unless I could discuss one of Zane’s books while we baked. My mom and I would visit her every summer for an entire month. Some of my best memories are tied up with that woman.” She held out her hand. “Cori Parker. And you are?”
He took her hand in his, and at once he felt a burning heat slip through his body. He quickly let go.
“Gage Remington, grandson to Buck Remington, a cantankerous old cowboy who is up in our room right now, undoubtedly charting out how to make my life a living hell for the next two weeks...which I fully deserve.”
She snickered. “I’m sure that’s not the case. If he’s anything like my grandmother, Miss May Meriwether, he’s too busy reacquainting himself with friends.”
Cori nodded toward a group of older folks sitting around a couple of small tables in the corner, obviously enjoying themselves. Their laughter permeated the entire saloon.
Unfortunately for Gage, his grandfather was not one of them.
Cori continued. “She’s the petite lady, wearing jeans and a blue shirt. She’s the only one with brown hair. Gram turns seventy-five next week, but she’s fighting it as long as she can.”
“My grandfather was like that. Always took care of himself, but ever since my grandmother passed, he’s been nothing but...”
An older, slim man wearing a black cowboy hat rushed into the saloon from the open back door and yelled, “Is anyone in here a nurse or a doctor?”
The music stopped as the room took on a sudden eerie silence. Everyone collectively waited for someone to respond to the frantic question.
A few awkward seconds passed.
Then Gage watched as Cori slid off her barstool, grabbed her oversize purse, and said, “I’m a doctor.”
The man told her to follow him, which she did, as she reached out for Gage’s hand. He reluctantly took it and followed close behind.
“You’re a doctor?” Gage asked her as they made their way out of the tavern area. He never would have guessed. He always thought of doctors as older, wiser-looking people. Not someone he could meet in a bar, and especially not someone who looked and sounded like Cori Parker, with her sultry voice, tight jeans, boots and manicured fingernails. She simply didn’t fit the type, but then, what did he know of types? He hadn’t looked up from achieving his financial goals in way too many years.
“Yes,” she said. “And I need you as my assistant.”
“But I don’t know the first thing about...”
“Just follow my lead and you’ll do fine.”
She squeezed his hand tighter as if she was depending on him for strength. He quickly took up the cause, gaining confidence with each step, and followed her through the back of the saloon, which led directly into the lobby of the Strater Hotel.
As he and Cori came around the corner, past the wooden staircase and into the main lobby decorated with crystal chandeliers, wallpapered walls, antique walnut furniture and ornate woodwork, he spotted the man lying on the plush, carpeted floor in the center of a small group of people who knelt around him.
Gage’s heart raced as he let go of Cori’s hand and hurried toward the group.
“It’s my grandfather,” he told Cori, his voice cracking.
* * *
“I DON’T KNOW what happened,” the young man told Cori as he crouched next to the older man lying on the floor. “One minute he was standing in front of my desk getting his room key, and the next he was on the floor.”
A small group of older folks had gathered around the gray-haired man lying on the floor. Cori immediately focused on the color of the man’s skin, which looked normal, plus his eyes were open and he wasn’t clutching his chest.
All good signs.
“Oh, Gramps,” Gage whispered as he dropped to the floor next to the fallen man. Then he smoothed out his grandpa’s hair, which seemed to relax them both.
As soon as his grandfather heard Gage’s voice he turned toward him. “What? How did I ever get on the floor?” He sounded shaky, deliberate, as if he was trying to control internal tremors. Cori knew these symptoms well, but she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. It was always difficult coming into a situation like she now found herself. She longed for a patient who filled out a medical history. Just once she’d like to know what that was like. Even though she had worked in a low trauma hospital in Manhattan as an ER physician, her experience with a detailed medical history for any of her patients had been a rare luxury, rather than the norm.
“Do you know if he’s suffering from any blood sugar problems?” Cori asked Gage as she clocked the man’s pulse. She could feel his tremors as she held on to his wrist. He also seemed anxious and nervous, but that could be from what had to be an embarrassing situation.
Gage hesitated as Cori looked to him for an easy answer. His grandfather was breathing too fast, which would only make him dizzy.
“I don’t know.”
“He’s your grandfather. Do you know anything about his health?”
“No. Not really.”
His statements took her by surprise, especially since he’d claimed to want to spend time with his grandfather. Cori knew everything about her grandmother, down to what vitamins she took and what she ate for breakfast. But then, Cori had always shared a special relationship with her gram, and felt closer to her than she did to her own parents.
“What’s his name?”
“Buck, Buck Remington.”
Cori directed her full attention to the patient. “Mr. Remington, I’d like you to take some deep, slow breaths to calm yourself. Can you do that for me? I’ll lead the way?”
Buck nodded, as they each slowly sucked in air through their mouths. “Now let it out through your nose,” she told him, and he dutifully followed her lead.
Once she had him breathing normally, his pulse slowed to a more acceptable pace. An older woman with pure white, shoulder-len
gth hair and deep red lips leaned over and handed Gage her pink sweater. “Maybe you can put this under his head. That floor’s hard.”
“Thanks,” Gage told her, while Cori threw the generous woman a quick smile.
Gage looked to Cori for approval. She nodded, then he carefully lifted Buck’s head and rested it on the folded sweater.
“Have you been diagnosed with hypoglycemia, Mr. Remington?”
He nodded again. His pulse quickened and sweat beaded on his forehead.
She looked up at Gage. “He needs glucose. Could you get him a glass of orange juice from the bar?”
“Sure.” Gage jumped up and rushed back to the tavern.
“I caught him as he went down,” a tall, lean gentleman, probably in his late sixties or early seventies and wearing a cream-colored cowboy hat offered. “He didn’t hit anything but my chest, so nothing should be broken. Court’s the name. Steve Court. Been Buck’s friend for the past ten years or so. Never know’d him to drop like that. Glad I was close by to break his fall.”
“You did perfect,” she told the man, then directed her attention back to Mr. Remington. “Can you sit up?”
He nodded and she motioned for Mr. Court to please help her.
She cradled his head and shoulder with one arm, and Mr. Court leaned down to help put Buck upright.
Gage returned with the juice.
“Drink this, Mr. Remington. It’ll make you feel better.”
Buck did as he was told and quickly slurped up all the juice, then handed the empty glass back to Gage. “Thank you, son,” he mumbled, his hand visibly shaking.
A siren screamed in the distance.
“Don’t worry, Gramps. We’ll get you checked out at the hospital, and you’ll be fine.”
“I’m not going to no dang hospital. I’m fine now. Just lost my balance is all.”
He struggled with each movement as if his limbs wouldn’t cooperate with his mind.
“Just rest for a bit, Mr. Remington. Take your time. There’s no rush.”
“Not going to no dang hospital.”
Two male EMTs walked into the lobby and came over to the group. The glow of the swirling red lights from their ambulance pulsed in through the windows and stained the walls with their fiery color.
“Gramps, stop being so obstinate. I’ll be right there with you.”
“You ain’t been with me since you was a kid. Don’t think you can tell me what to do now. I can make my own decisions.”
Cori quickly realized their relationship was in even worse shape than Gage had led her to believe.
She reached out and took Mr. Remington’s hand. “I knew a Buck when I was in medical school. He was a kind, thoughtful, easy-going man. I think those traits go along with the name. I have a feeling you probably didn’t eat a meal for a long time, and because of that, you might not be your sweet self. Your grandson only wants what’s best for you, and so do I.”
Buck nodded, staring into Cori’s eyes. His demeanor changed and Cori could see the tension drain from his body. He relaxed his shoulders, and gently squeezed her hand.
Cori worked on instinct and purposely stopped herself from thinking about what she was doing or saying despite the fact that she had started second-guessing herself a few months back.
Her self-doubt and stress had caused her to walk away from her ER position at Manhattan Central Hospital for some much-needed rest and reassessment. She’d been chronically fatigued for weeks from lack of sleep. And after nearly running off the road with her nine-year-old daughter Hailey in the car on their way home from another school event that Cori had all but missed, she knew her life had to change.
Those changes began with her turning in her resignation.
Up until that moment, Cori had thought she could do it all. Now she wasn’t so sure she could do anything right, and that included diagnosing hypoglycemia in an elderly man with the appropriate symptoms.
She gazed at her patient and saw all the fear and loneliness in his light blue eyes.
He couldn’t seem to stop staring at her, as if he was trying to place where he’d seen her before, but Cori knew that wasn’t possible.
“Rose? What are you doing here, Rose? I thought you were...”
“My name is Cori, Mr. Remington. I’m not Rose.”
He hesitated for a second, smiled and whispered, “You remind me of my wife. Same color hair and eyes. And your voice, there’s something familiar about your voice. She was a looker just like you, and a real spitfire. That woman could get me to eat hay if she asked me to. Always kept me on a schedule. Since she passed, I don’t know when to eat or what to eat. I’m all mixed up. It ain’t right that she left first. Ain’t right at all.”
“My grandmother passed a couple years ago,” Gage told her.
She understood Buck’s despair much better now. She could identify with it.
“It’s hard losing someone you love, especially your soul mate. Believe me, I know how you feel. I lost my husband five years ago. He took a piece of my heart that I’ll never get back. But he wanted me to go on and be well and love again. I’m sure Rose wanted the same for you. You need to take care of yourself for Rose.”
His defenses seemed to tumble down, and she saw only love in his eyes. “She always took good care of me.”
“Then don’t let her down. Please allow these competent professionals to take you to the hospital to run a few tests. I’m sure it won’t take very long, and if everything goes well, your grandson will have you back here in time for the barbecue tonight.”
Gage’s eyes were moist as he turned to his grandfather. “We’ll get you fixed up, Gramps. I’m here now, and I’ll see to it that you get everything you need.”
“Thanks, son,” Buck told him as he allowed one of the EMTs to help him into a wheelchair and roll him out of the lobby.
Cori and Gage stood, and at once she caught a whiff of cinnamon mixed with citrus. Nothing heavy. It was more aromatic than anything else. She gazed around the room, wondering if there was a candle burning or if perhaps there was a plate of cookies on the front desk, but she couldn’t see anything.
Gage took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of her hand. His touch sent a shiver through her.
“Are you always this amazing?” he asked.
“Your grandfather’s the one who’s amazing. I merely did what I was trained to do.”
“Thank you.”
She glanced out the front window. The ambulance was getting ready to leave.
“You better get going.”
“Will you be here when we get back?”
“All five days.”
“Great.”
And he took off out the front door, leaving Cori to wonder what exactly he meant by that. Cori hadn’t come on this trip with her gram looking for anything other than some time to heal and rethink her chosen profession. Meeting a pseudo cowboy hadn’t been part of her idea of healing, and she certainly didn’t want to add any complications to her already taxed life.
But still...
Chapter Two
As it turned out, Doctor Cori Parker had been right about Gage’s grandfather collapsing from acute hypoglycemia. Other than a low iron count and some arthritis in his joints, Gramps was in excellent health for a man in his seventies. All those years of cowboying had done well by him. Of course, they hadn’t done much for his ornery disposition.
“I don’t need no rest up in the room,” Gramps told Gage in no uncertain terms as they entered the hotel’s front lobby once again. “We got ourselves an opening talk and a barbecue to attend. There ain’t nothing short of death that’s gonna stop me from enjoying every part of this here conference.”
Gage decided it was easier to simply roll with the program than to continue arguing h
is point. “Whatever you say, Gramps. You know best.”
His grandfather gave him a little harrumph and moved on ahead of Gage in the direction of the Henry Strater Theater where the event had been planned. By now everyone would be in line for what was sure to be a Western treat with some fine Colorado beef, chicken and all the trimmings for a real down-home kind of meal, something Gage hadn’t experienced in too many years to remember. His ex-wife’s parents had come close several times, but a pot roast was little substitution for a rack of ribs and grilled chicken.
Gage tried to keep up, but his grandfather seemed to want to prove that he was “fit as a fiddle,” a saying his gramps liked to use, and had already disappeared around the corner of the lobby. In truth, now that his gramps was feeling better, with no side-effects from his collapse, all Gage could think about was Cori Parker. She’d been on his mind ever since he’d met her, and despite all his efforts to shake her free, he seemed to be stuck wanting to see her again, if for nothing else but to thank her for taking such good care of his grandfather.
But that had to be it.
He’d thank her and let it go at that.
Nothing more.
There would be no getting involved no matter how intoxicating her eyes were, or the sultry curve of her lips, or the way she had soothed his worries when his grandfather was in crisis.
He reminded himself that she was merely doing her job. Something she’d been trained to do. His grandfather could have been any number of people in need and the treatment would have been exactly the same. Sure, she’d been extra kind and compassionate when she learned about his grandmother’s passing, but weren’t all doctors trained to be empathetic to the elderly?
He tried to think of her as just another doctor when he spotted her standing in front of the open doors to the theater. With one glance, his breath caught in his throat, and his stomach was clenched.
