by Francis Ray
Finally, she went to Mr. Ward. He hadn’t been able to work regularly as an electrician since his wife’s illness. Since both of their families lived out of town, he was left to care for his sick wife and his daughter alone. He hadn’t seemed to mind. The love he and his wife shared was obvious. Sabrina had almost given up hope that she’d ever find a man to share her life with.
A memory of Cade, his mouth unsmiling, flashed in her mind before she firmly pushed it away. Thinking of Cade in the long term was asking for trouble. Yet, somehow, she realized she was already on that road.
The door opened and a woman in surgical scrubs came into the room. Mr. Ward whirled around and met the woman before she had taken more than a few steps. “Did Dr. Mathis send you?”
“Yes. Dr. Mathis wanted you to know that he encountered more nerve involvement than anticipated so he’s going slower in removing the tumor,” she said.
Mr. Ward scrubbed his hand over his face, swallowed hard, nodded. “How much longer?”
“An hour. Perhaps two. It depends on what he finds,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back.”
“Dr. Mathis is the best,” Sabrina reminded Mr. Ward as the surgical tech walked away.
“So is Ann.” His calloused hands clenched and unclenched. “If I lost her—” His eyes shut tightly.
Sabrina knew he wouldn’t eat, so she faced the others in the room. “I’ll stay with him so you can eat a bite.”
Ann’s mother shook her head, as did her husband sitting beside her. “I’d rather wait here.”
His mother came to stand beside her son, brushed her hand down his arm. “I haven’t been able to come and help because of work. I won’t leave him now.”
His hand covered hers. “You go on, Mom, and eat. You, too, Mrs. Sims. I need both of you to be strong. Dr. Mathis said the first twenty-four hours will be tough.”
Tears sparkled in Ann’s mother’s eyes. Her husband’s arm curved around her waist. “The other doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with her. I thought it was all in her mind.” She bit her lip. “You never did. If it hadn’t been for you refusing to stop looking for a doctor…” Her voice trailed off.
Mr. Ward went to his mother-in-law and hugged her. “Ann is the best thing that happened to me. She loves me and Clarissa. I knew when she couldn’t be the kind of wife and mother she wanted to be that the doctors were wrong about it being in her mind.”
“You got her the help she needed,” Ann’s father added. “Her doctor is supposed to be the best.”
Mr. Ward glanced at Sabrina. “He’s the best, and he’s going to make Ann well. Isn’t that right, Sabrina?”
Several pairs of eyes filled with hope and fear focused on her. She gave them what she hoped was enough. “Dr. Mathis is the best neurosurgeon in the state, one of the best in the nation. Ann couldn’t be in better hands.” She said a silent prayer that it would be enough.
* * *
“I’m sorry to do this, Kara, but we have two social workers out sick and Meredith is still on maternity leave,” Lois Nelson said, handing Kara a manila folder.
Kara automatically lifted her hand to take the folder from her supervisor, then she paused. Her head lifted sharply. Her fingers clenched, her hand wavered. No, her mind silently shouted.
“Dale Bowler is an alcoholic with cirrhosis of the liver. His doctor has recommended dialysis three days a week, but Mr. Bowler let his insurance policy lapse,” Lois went on to explain. “I just spoke with his wife, Bess, who’s understandably upset and scared, and told her that someone from this department would visit them today.”
Kara hadn’t missed that her supervisor had yet to mention the name of the patient’s doctor. Taking the folder, she opened it and confirmed her suspicions. Burt Collins.
“You know if there had been anyone else available, I wouldn’t have assigned the case to you,” Lois explained, her face troubled.
“I know.” And she did. It had been three months since she learned Burt was a liar and a cheat, more than enough time for her to move on. “Patients come first.”
Lois relaxed her considerable bulk in her chair. “I’m glad that I never have to be worried that you might forget that.”
“I’ll go see him now, and determine what we can work out.” Taking the folder, Kara left her supervisor’s office and went to the elevator. It was a little after two. There was a chance Burt might be visiting his other patients or in his office. If not, she’d just have to deal with him.
Stepping onto the elevator, Kara punched in her floor. Perhaps avoiding Burt had been the wrong thing to do. She was developing a bad habit of not facing her problems. Never a good thing.
The elevator stopped on the eighth floor. The doors slid open. She stepped off and turned toward the nursing station immediately to her right. The first person she saw was Burt at the nurses’ station talking to the charge nurse, the nurse she’d caught him with. Kara kept going, glad she didn’t feel anything.
“Kara, wait.”
Clutching the notebook and folder to her, she waited for Burt to reach her and as she did, she impassionedly studied him. Tall, athletic, handsome with thick auburn hair. It had been easy to fall for the charm, the lies. She’d been flattered, and used. “Yes, Dr. Collins?”
“We need to talk.”
Opening the folder, she took out a pen. “Was there anything else I needed to know about Mr. Bowler before I see him?”
Burt’s lips pressed together in a flat line. “You know I meant about us.”
She looked up, thankfully calm. “There is no us. You made sure of that.” Closing the file, she started down the hall.
He caught her in front of Dale Bowler’s room, his hand closing around her upper forearm. “Don’t be so stubborn. You’re taking this hard-to-get act a little too far.”
She looked from the fingers on her arm to him. “You’re the actor. I advise you to remove your hand unless you want to face a sexual harassment charge.”
“You—”
“Excuse me.”
Kara jerked around at the sound of the deep, molasses voice to see a man with the most startling green eyes she’d ever seen in a handsome light brown face. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” he said, a slow grin spreading across his face making him even more gorgeous. Kara blinked and caught herself before her mouth gaped. The man was absolutely breathtaking.
“Weren’t you on your way someplace?” Burt snapped.
The man, at least five inches taller and more muscled, slowly turned to Burt. He stared at him so long, Burt shifted nervously.
Not wanting to be the subject of more gossip, Kara said, “Dr. Collins, if you’ll excuse me.” Leaving them both, Kara entered the room. The door had barely swung shut before it opened again. Seeing Burt she was tempted to leave and return later.
He stopped when the stranger tried to follow him. “This is a private room.”
“I know.” Brushing by Burt, the man entered the room and went to the bedside. “Hi, Dale.”
The thin man in the bed opened his eyes. The corners of his mouth in his unshaven, jaundiced face lifted slightly. “Tristan.” He looked at the elderly woman beside the bed who was holding a glass of water with a straw. “Told the old lady you’d be here.”
Tristan smiled and nodded to Dale’s wife by the bed. “Hello, Bess. Still giving you lip I see.”
“Always. Hello, Tristan.” Bess looked from the thin man in the bed back to Tristan. “Thank you for coming. I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m here now.”
“Are you a relative?” Burt asked abruptly.
“No,” Tristan answered, his hand on the man’s emaciated shoulder.
“Then I’ll have to ask you to leave. Patient confidentiality,” Burt said with entirely too much enjoyment.
The man’s annoyed gaze swung to Mrs. Bowler. “Is that what you want, Bess?”
“No, and Dale don’t either,” she said,
setting the glass of water on the nightstand. “I want you here. If I got to sign some papers that says so, I will.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Kara said, annoyed that Burt was being so strict. She extended her hand to the woman. “I’m Kara Simmons, a social worker with Texas. I’m here to help Mr. Bowler with his out-patient care.”
Bess rounded the bed and took both of Kara’s hands in hers. “Lordy, thank you. The doctor was talking about dialysis, but the insurance said the policy lapsed. Our kids ain’t able to help.”
“All of Zachary’s employees in his construction company have insurance,” Tristan said, a frown on his face.
The man on the bed looked away. His wife folded her arms around her waist and swallowed before she said, “After Zachary had to let Dale go, he paid the insurance until Dale got another job, and said he didn’t need help anymore. But he got fired six months ago. This time the man he worked for left it up to Dale to make the payments.” She shook her gray head. “He never made a one.”
“Just because I missed a few days they let me go,” Dale snapped, his angry gaze on Tristan. “I’m the best tile man in the city. Zachary knows that. I thought Zachary was my friend. Ain’t no one better than me.” He pointed a dirty, yellowish thumb to his chest. “You know that, Tristan.”
“Perhaps once, Mr. Bowler, but your drinking ruined your liver. One kidney has shut down and the other one is failing. Dialysis is the only way to keep you alive,” Burt said. “You can’t drink anymore.”
“A man should be able to take a shot now and then,” Dale grumbled.
“You keep on, and you’ll be dead in three months.”
Dale cursed and tried to lift himself up in bed. “I’ll be alive when they put dirt on your face.”
“If no dialysis center takes you, you won’t live three months,” Burt predicted. “You have no one to blame for your condition except yourself.”
“Oh, lordy,” Bess said, wringing her hands.
Kara curved her arm reassuringly around the woman’s trembling shoulders, and glared at Burt. He was being an ass because he was ticked at her and angry with Dale’s visitor. “We’ll find a place for your husband. Don’t worry.”
Burt’s handsome face contorted with anger. “I’m discharging you today. There’s a list of medications you need to be on. The nurse will bring your discharge orders. Good-bye.” The door swung shut behind him.
“It’s the eighteenth. We don’t get our checks until the first of the month.” Bess moaned, placing her hand on her husband’s foot beneath the bedcovers.
“Don’t worry, Bess. I’ll see that Dale gets what he needs,” Tristan said, going to Bess.
“Thank—”
“I ain’t taking no charity,” Dale grumbled, his face belligerent as he cut his wife off. “I called you to help Mama. Those sorry kids of ours ain’t worth spit. Been here three days, and we ain’t seen a one of them.”
Embarrassment touched Bess’s thin face. “They’re busy, Dale, working and taking care of their families.”
“You make excuses for them just like you always do,” he said. “You spoiled them so they’re no good to themselves or us.”
Bess tucked her head and folded her arms around her waist.
Tristan was at the head of the bed in seconds. His voice was hard when he spoke. “Dale, if you weren’t already on your back, I’d put you there. Bess put up with your bad temper and hard drinking for forty-odd years. She never gave up on you, just like she hasn’t given up on your children. If she were a less loving woman, she would have walked away and left all of you.”
There was silence on the bed.
Kara had been caught in family arguments before, caught in her parents’. She could walk away from the latter, but never from her patient no matter how uncomfortable it made her. “Mrs. Bowler, do you have any other resources?”
The older woman shook her head. Kara expected as much. The man might want to help, but dialysis was expensive. “There are programs available to help with the dialysis and the discharge medication. Don’t worry.” She pulled a card from her pocket. “Here’s my card. I’m going to look at the discharge orders and start working on finding a treatment center close to where you live.”
Bess clutched the card. “Thank you.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” She pressed her hand to Bess’s. “Discharge is often slow. Do you have a way home?”
“I’ll take them,” Tristan said.
Her gaze flickered to him. “It might be awhile before everything is ready.”
“No matter. I’ll be here.”
“All right. Good-bye,” Kara said, and left the room, all the while aware of Tristan’s intense green eyes on her every step of the way.
* * *
“Excuse me for a moment,” Tristan said, and rushed out the door, ignoring Dale’s “chasing skirts” comment. “Ms. Simmons.” At least he hoped it was Ms. He hadn’t seen a ring. Obviously she and the rude jerk of a doctor had a history.
She turned to face him, and what an exquisite face it was. “Yes?” Although her expression was calm, there was something a bit off. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was wary of him.
“I just wanted to thank you again,” Tristan said, and extended his hand. “Tristan Landers.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she lifted hers. “Kara Simmons.”
He was surprised to feel the calloused palm, the strength, the slight trembling. “Dale talks big, but he’s scared. So is Bess. You helped.”
She nodded, sweeping thick, curly black hair over her shoulder. “Any chance he’ll stop drinking?”
“No,” Tristan answered, giving himself points for not staring at the high, firm breasts revealed when she lifted her arm and her drab gray jacket parted. “He’s too stubborn. Even with all that’s happened to him, he thinks he’s in control of his life.”
“Dr. Collins might have been abrupt, but he’s a good internist,” she said. “At least try to slow him down.”
“We will. Do you mind if I have your card?” he said, then added when she hesitated, “In case I think of anything else.”
“Of course.” She pulled out another card. “Good-bye, Mr. Landers.”
Trying boyish charm, he smiled. “Tristan, please.”
She didn’t smile back. ”Mr. Landers,” she said, then walked away.
He hadn’t thought she would be easy, but he had no doubt about the outcome. He refused to think of the other time he’d been so sure about a woman only to be proven so horribly wrong. Life had bit him on the backside, but he’d finally, thankfully moved on.
Shoving the card into the pocket of his cotton shirt, he went back into Dale’s room. “Dale, if you keep going like you have been, none of us are going to be happy with the way things turn out.”
“You ask her out yet?” Dale asked, a sly grin on his thin, grizzly face.
“Did you hear me?” Tristan asked.
“We all gotta go sometime, I might as well go out doing what I want,” he said, crossing his arms across his frail chest.
Tristan threw a glance at Bess. Her arms remained tightly wrapped around her waist. She lowered her head. “What about your family?”
“Bess knows me better than anyone and loves me in spite of it.” He almost smiled. “Now, answer my question. You ask her out yet?”
Aware Dale was going to live his last days the way he wanted, Tristan finally answered his question. “Not yet, but I’m working on a plan.”
Dale chuckled. “About time you moved on.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Tristan said, returning the smile.
Four
Less than an hour later Tristan easily located social services on the first floor of the sprawling hospital complex. He saw no reason not to put his plan into motion sooner rather than later. Kara impressed him as a woman who might take a lot of persuasion.
Touching the brim of his Texas Rangers’ baseball cap to two passing nurses, he continued down
the narrow hallway, looking for Kara’s office. The sharp-eyed receptionist said she was in her office. She wasn’t impressed with him. He didn’t mind, just as long as Kara was.
Locating her door, he knocked.
“Come in.”
Even through the door, he liked the sound of her slightly husky voice. He could well imagine it whispering in his ear, just before biting his earlobe. With that titillating thought on his mind, he opened the door.
She was sitting behind her neat wooden desk, a plain manila folder in front of her. The smile on her beautiful face faded. Slowly, she straightened and leaned back in her chair, her slim fingers clenched around the pen in her hand.
He was right. She was leery of him. Smart woman, but it wouldn’t do her any good. This might be your biggest challenge yet, Tristan thought, but he had no thought of not coming out victorious. He closed the door. “Good afternoon, Kara.”
Her eyebrow lifted imperiously. She certainly didn’t like him calling her by her first name. He planned that and more. “Mr. Landers.”
Tristan was undaunted by the frost in her voice. He had a feeling the pleasure of getting to know Kara was going to be well worth the effort. “Tristan, please, since, as I said, we’re going to be working together to help Dale.”
She closed the folder in front of her and placed her slender hands on top. “I wanted to talk to you about that. Please have a seat.”
She’d sidestepped that nicely. He always liked intelligent women, liked them even better when they had a figure that could make a man drool. Kara had both. Tristan took the straight-back padded chair in front of her desk and removed his cap. “He’s a good man who made some mistakes.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Five or six years,” he told her. “He’s right about being the best tile man in the business, or at least he once was. He worked for Zachary Holman, owner of Holman Construction Company. He did the tile on the project Zachary did for me.”
“Is Mr. Holman the man who continued to pay the insurance premiums after Mr. Bowler was fired?” she asked.
There was no sense evading the truth. “Yes. Zachary tried every way he could think of to keep Dale, including going by his house every morning to pick him up, direct deposit of his check, taking him to AA meetings. Dale balked at everything. In the end, Zachary had to let Dale go.”
