Julian needed to be careful, but they were going to release him so he could go upstairs with his wife.
“It happened so fast.” He heard Julian’s voice echo through the open door. “The road was slick. Kelly seemed fine. The paramedics looked her over at the scene.”
“The symptoms with a brain bleed can be difficult to spot immediately. But your wife has some of the finest physicians in Boston watching over her,” Amara responded. Of course, she’d checked in on Julian when their shifts ended. It was what Eli was about to do.
Eli saw Julian lay a hand across his head. “Last time I checked, I was at Boston Gen., not Massachusetts Research.” Julian stopped. “Sorry, no offense meant.”
He saw Amara offer Julian a patient smile. “I used to work at Massachusetts Research. If you need open-heart surgery or orthopedic care, there is no better place in the state, maybe the country.” She stood and patted the side of Julian’s bed. “But this is the top ER in the city. The staff here handle more trauma cases than any other. We just don’t advertise it as well as the other hospitals.” Amara winked. “Too busy focusing on our patients. Get some rest.”
Eli stepped into the room. “I’ve come to spring you.” He gazed at Amara. Every word she’d spoken had been true. This was the best ER in the city, and they should do a better job of advertising that fact. “You need to be careful, monitor any headaches, and if you have family nearby, it would be helpful if someone could stay with you while your wife is here.”
“Thank you,” Julian murmured.
“Someone will be in with your discharge paperwork shortly.” Eli motioned for Amara to follow him. “You’re extraordinary.” He leaned as close as was professionally acceptable, enjoying the grin twitching on her lips. He didn’t think he could ever tire of seeing her happy.
“Thank you.” Amara gripped his hand briefly. “We make a great team.”
We do.
“And you gave me the best idea for raising Boston Gen.’s profile. We need an advertising campaign highlighting the work here.”
Amara blinked a few times. “Eli, that isn’t your job. Focus on the patients. Boston Gen. does great work. That’s all that matters.”
“We do exceptional work. And that should be publicly recognized.” Eli folded his arms.
Why didn’t she see that?
“It is recognized.” Amara shrugged. “Maybe not by national magazines, where most of the votes are bought with fancy dinners, tours and things that have nothing to do with patient care. Where did the paramedics bring Julian and his wife? Here. You, Griffin, Dr. Jackson and Dr. Carmichael each get asked to give presentations at conferences every year. You were the keynote speaker at two separate conferences last year. Recognition comes in many forms. The most important kind doesn’t have a trophy.”
“And that is?” Eli raised an eyebrow.
She laid a hand on his arm. “The recognition that you are enough. The only person that can give that to you is yourself. But—” Amara gave him a pointed look “—there are no fancy banners that come with it.”
She looked down the hall and placed a quick peck on his cheek. “I know you want this place to be nationally ranked. Want people to identify us as a first-class institution—but we already are that. We just need to fix our staff retention issues,” Amara said as she headed back to the nurses’ station.
Eli looked around the halls. He’d loved Boston Gen. since the day he’d walked in. Amara was right—this was a first-class ER. But she was also wrong about the rankings. What people thought, or believed, was important too. And ratings affected that. It helped with funding and would solve at least some of the retention issues. Eli was going to find a way to make sure everyone else knew how great his hospital was.
* * *
Amara grabbed Lizzy’s cup of milk and looked toward the stairs. Eli was going over a stack of papers that Marshall had dropped off last night. Eli had promised to come down for breakfast. If he wasn’t down here in a few minutes, Amara would go looking for him. She frowned.
Over the last week, there hadn’t been a single day when Eli hadn’t gotten a request from Marshall or worked on some project for Boston Gen. He was burning his candle at both ends and down the center. He surely couldn’t keep this pace up. At least she was in charge of the health fair booth.
He trusted her with the booth, though he was still joking with Griffin that they were going to win the extra vacation days. Amara’s focus was on providing good information, not winning. Cooking her mother’s dishes had brought her a sense of peace. In the kitchen, cutting up vegetables, prepping the recipes, she felt closer to her mom than she had in years. Amara hadn’t bought a bag of salad on any of her grocery runs this week—and she wasn’t going to.
Her mother would have loved having her recipes tasted by hundreds of people. If only a few visitors to the booth made her food afterward, that would be enough. This felt like a beautiful way to honor her mom.
Lizzy laughed as she tried to pick up Amara’s bag. Amara walked over and grabbed her. She’d spent the last three nights at Eli’s, and she needed to run back to her apartment today. At least to get her mail and pick up a few more clothes before coming home.
Home.
Amara’s feet faltered as the word struck her. Her apartment had never really felt like home. It was just a place she’d picked when her life had fallen apart. The rent had been in her price range, and Amara hadn’t even bothered to redecorate the place to her taste. But here she felt different. Loved...
She hadn’t worked up the courage to say those words to him. Amara loved Eli; a part of her had never stopped. But she couldn’t help still worrying that he might drift away. He hadn’t said that he loved her either. She looked toward the stairs and wondered again where he was.
She bit her lip and tried to ignore the tiny remnant of fear pressing against her. Eli wasn’t her father, and he wasn’t Marshall, but what if he always persisted in chasing this dream of seeing his hospital on the national rankings—his own name, too?
No! She was not going to let fear of what-if stop her from enjoying the here and now. Amara had spent years away from the one person who’d looked at her and seen Amara, no matter what. That was precious. She could share his attention with his work—all his work. And whatever accolades came his way.
But their second chance still felt so new to utter the words “I love you.” They had all the time they needed to get to that place. Now, if he would just come down for breakfast. As she stepped away from the counter, Eli walked into the kitchen.
“I was starting to worry you were going to spend the day in your study.” Amara gave him a little finger wag.
“It’s only been an hour.” Eli tapped his watch as he bent to kiss the top of Lizzy’s head. Then he gave Amara a much longer kiss.
His hand was warm against her back, and Amara couldn’t think of a better way to start her day. “Well, an hour is a long time.” She gave him another kiss before he released her.
“My apologies.” Eli laughed. “You look beautiful this morning.”
Amara picked up her teacup. “What is your father having you work on?”
“The Collins Research Fundraiser.” Eli poured coffee into a mug and took a sip. “Guess he’s been more impressed by my help than I thought.”
“Well, you are very impressive.” Amara squeezed his hand. She wished Eli didn’t need to constantly prove himself to Marshall, but she was determined to tell him how proud she was of him, as often as possible. Maybe then, Marshall’s opinion wouldn’t carry so much weight. “Time for some breakfast.”
Eli set down his mug before picking up Lizzy, taking a seat at the table and settling her in his lap. He shifted a few cut-up grapes around on the plate in front of him. “I admit that I thought he was kidding at first. He never let Sam and me help before.”
“Did you want to?” Amara asked. He’d
always complained about the fundraiser in the past. She’d thought he hated it.
“No.” Eli shook his head, but his eyes gleamed. “But this year Boston Gen. is the focus.”
Lizzy looked at Eli and popped a cut-up grape into her mouth, laughing as it squished between her lips. When he didn’t react, she frowned.
To distract her, Amara sat down, then lightly bopped Lizzy on the nose before popping one of the grapes in her own mouth. Lizzy’s peal of laughter echoed throughout the kitchen, and the toddler focused on making faces at Amara.
“Really, Marshall chose Boston General?” Amara was stunned.
What did Marshall want in exchange for such a prize?
Amara hated the unkind thought, but it wouldn’t stop hammering inside her head.
Eli’s eyes shone with excitement, and Amara tried to ignore the twinge of unease she felt. It would be fine. It would. Eli was committed to Boston General, and he’d been a physician for years—he wouldn’t consider an unwanted surgical residency just because his father demanded it of him.
Amara pushed the past away. Swallowing, she tried to keep her voice level. “Has Marshall ever chosen a local hospital before?” Amara guessed the answer, so she wasn’t surprised when Eli shook his head.
“Which is why this needs to be perfect. If Boston Gen. can get a large cash infusion, think of all the hospital can do. We can highlight everything it does well, maybe get on that national ranking list.” Eli pushed a hand through his hair.
Amara shook her head. “You don’t even know the criteria for that list, and this is a fundraiser. It has nothing to do with patient care,” she countered. When Eli shrugged, the touch of worry grew in her heart. Marshall was dangling a huge prize in front of his son. Acceptance.
Or the illusion of it...
Ignoring the wave of panic washing over her, Amara tried to focus on the positive. “Will our hospital get much from the fundraiser?” She put a few more pieces of grapes on Lizzy’s plate. She might just squish them, but at least it kept her occupied.
“Last year, Clean Water for All took home a little over fifteen million.”
“Fifteen million?” Amara felt her eyes widen. How could anyone raise that much money, particularly with one event?
Eli’s eyes were bright as he took a bite of his muffin. “The lowest amount Marshall ever managed to raise with the event was just under ten million. I bet we can break the record this year. Marshall told me to shoot for twenty million.”
Told him?
Amara tried to focus on the positives. With an additional twenty million dollars, Boston Gen. could fund several new projects.
“I spent this morning writing up a list of sponsors to contact and investors to reach out to. Marshall’s always focused on the East Coast, but there are some new medical start-ups in California and one in Nevada that are doing some amazing things too.” Eli was thrilled.
“How much of this event did Marshall turn over to you?” Amara asked, dreading the answer.
“He said I could run it.” His grin sent a shiver down her spine. “We could make a real difference.” He took out his phone and started typing furiously.
“If you do this and Marshall still doesn’t respect you, what will you do?” She kept her voice level. She hated asking the question, but she needed to know the answer.
Eli’s brows furrowed, and he let out a deep breath. “But surely he would...” He paused and closed his eyes.
“He might not.” Amara’s stomach clenched as she watched Eli shoulders tense. He’d always wanted Marshall’s acceptance. But he had to understand that his father might not ever give it—he might not be able to. Maybe it wasn’t fair to push this, but even though the fundraiser was months away, this project would steal away Eli’s time.
All of it, if Marshall had his way.
“Then I’ll try again next year.” Eli shrugged. “Marshall will eventually...” He clamped down on whatever he was going to say.
But Amara understood, and frustration rippled through her. Taking a deep breath, she reined in her emotions. “Are you going to work for Marshall full-time then?” Amara knew the answer to that, but she wanted Eli to say it out loud.
“No.”
“So, you’ll still have your work at the hospital.” Amara swallowed as Eli nodded. “What about Lizzy? What about me? What happens to us, if you spend the next eight months spending the very little free time you already have proving to Marshall that you can host a great fundraiser? Something you didn’t ask for. What do you get?”
And what do you risk losing?
She didn’t say those words, though. Amara had thrown down that gauntlet years ago, and he’d let her walk away. She’d let her fear that he’d work so much that he forgot his family rule her. Eli had needed to be challenged back then just like she was doing now, but walking away without giving him a chance to think about it and change his mind had been wrong.
And cost them both.
She wouldn’t do that again. Eli had promised her he could balance his work and home lives, and Amara would help him do it. She would. Even if that meant forcing him to acknowledge that his father might be using him.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “Marshall might never see me as an equal—probably won’t.” Eli’s hands shook, and Amara’s heart broke for him. “And I never wanted to run the whole fundraiser. I can help him smooth a few things out, but...” Eli smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
If only she could wave a magic wand to make Marshall see the man she saw. “You are more than enough for Lizzy and me, Eli. No matter what the rankings say, or your father thinks. You are extraordinary.”
Eli gripped her hand. “That’s all that matters.” He kissed her cheek, but his shoulders didn’t relax.
She wasn’t sure he really believed her, but Amara didn’t know what else to say. She slipped an arm around Eli and held him, trying to let all her feelings flow into him.
You are enough... I love you...
* * *
Amara leaned her head against the tile as the hot water slid over her skin. Her relationship with Eli was going to work this time. She wanted so badly to believe that, but the despair in his eyes racked her with guilt. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. But what if Marshall never came to his senses? And what if Eli continued to chase after him?
Her father hadn’t even called her since he remarried. It hurt, but Amara knew her father wasn’t going to change. Amara doubted Marshall could really change either.
Sighing, she slid her hand along the side of her breast and performed her regular check. She’d gotten into the habit during nursing school. If she was going to remind women to check their breasts every month, Amara felt she should do the same. Now she followed the instructions her breast surgeon had given her after her double mastectomy. Even though her surgeon had done her best to get all the breast tissue, there was a small possibility with skin-sparing mastectomies for a bit of residual breast tissue to remain.
Her routine was interrupted as a small lump ran under her fingers. Taking a deep breath, Amara washed her hair and forced herself to finish her shower. She might have imagined it, or maybe there was a bit of scar tissue she hadn’t noticed previously. Before shutting off the water, she performed the self-check again. The pea-size lump was still there in the same spot.
Her body was numb as she turned the water off and wrapped the towel around herself. She’d done everything her genetic counselor, ob-gyn and plastic surgeon had recommended. Everything. And still there was something there.
She tried to convince herself that it was just a cyst or scar tissue as she pulled a brush through her hair. Amara stared at the clothes she’d laid out on the bed. Just getting dressed suddenly seemed like too much effort.
What if she had...?
Amara couldn’t bring herself to even think the word.
; Bowing her head, she dialed Susan’s number. Amara wouldn’t be able to focus on her patients tonight, and a distracted nurse was dangerous. Susan answered on the third ring. Amara choked out an excuse about not feeling well, which wasn’t really a lie. Susan wished her well before hustling off the phone to find a replacement.
Leaning her head against the wall, Amara called her doctor. She was lucky; another patient had canceled, and they could fit her in tomorrow afternoon. Twenty-four hours and then more waiting.
Again, she looked at Eli’s number, her finger hovering for a moment before she laid down the phone. He needed to work tonight, and she’d already upset him today. Plus she wasn’t ready to verbalize her fears. It might be nothing.
It had to be nothing.
But when the tears started, Amara let them fall.
* * *
“What’s up with Amara?” Griffin said, slapping Eli’s shoulder.
“Why?” Eli asked, and immediately looked toward the nurses’ station. She wasn’t there. This morning, when she’d pressed him on the fundraiser, it had hurt to hear that she thought Marshall might never accept him.
He’d reluctantly agreed not to take over the whole fundraiser, though. Amara was right about that. Eli had never cared about it, and Boston General would make a good sum from it no matter what.
It was a considerable time commitment. And Eli didn’t want to spend that much time away from his family.
His family.
That word sent a thrill through him. He loved Amara. Had always loved her. It was her soft voice repeating that he was enough that kept him grounded, even during the years they’d spent apart.
“She called in tonight, less than two hours before her shift.” Griffin looked at his hospital-issue tablet and swiped a few times.
“Why?” Unease trickled down Eli’s spine. Was she more upset than he’d realized this morning? She’d held him, reassured him. But Eli was suddenly very aware that he hadn’t asked her how she was feeling. He’d been too focused on himself.
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