by Tracy Ewens
The greetings were followed by what felt like an endless pause as each man tried to figure out where the other fit. Ella stood, hoping the awkwardness would fall away.
“Marc… Dr. Pierce. I will need to talk with you later. I’ll bet you have something to do in the meantime.”
She grabbed Boyd by the arm and brought him to the on-call room.
When they were alone, she kissed him and instantly felt like she’d been plugged back in. Familiar heat coursed right under the surface with a promise that it could erase a past she no longer wanted to own.
“Who’s the doctor, Ella?” he asked, moving her hair aside and gently kissing her neck.
“A doctor. This is a hospital. There are lots of us.”
He met her eyes. “You sticking with that story? He sure seemed like he wanted to take you into the break room and, well, do this.”
She laughed, which was absurd.
“Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen. I can’t control the desires of other people.”
“True.” He took her mouth again and everything melted this time. Her past, her present—all Ella felt was the moment.
“You need to go. I can’t breathe when you touch me.”
His lips met the curve of her ear. “Is breathing important in your line of work?”
All she could do was nod.
“I’ll go, but we should talk about the movie-star guy in the lab coat out there.”
“Do we have to do that now? I’m working and things are—”
“Busy?” He lifted a brow, and suddenly his impromptu visit went from fun to complicated.
Once again, thank you, Marc Pierce.
Ella cleared her throat.
“Fine.” She locked the door and crossed her arms, as if Boyd had already judged her. “I dated Marc for two years.”
“I figured.”
“He told me he worked for Doctors Without Borders. You know, they go all over the world helping people.”
Boyd leaned against the wall. “Noble.”
“I saw him once every few weeks. We had an apartment near the hospital. We went on a couple of vacations together.”
“Okay. I really don’t need the details, Ella. Let’s get to the part where you tell me you’ve never stopped loving him and now he’s back and you’re confused.”
“What?”
His expression indicated he knew the ending to a story Ella hadn’t even read yet.
“Let’s get on with it.”
“Okay. Marc doesn’t work for Doctors Without Borders.”
Boyd met her eyes, not even bothering to hide the surprise. She had a hunch he somehow expected rejection or an admission that sleeping with him had been a lapse in judgment and she was now going to run back into the arms of the chiseled doctor. Stupid ER reruns.
“He was married,” she continued. “He is married. Seven years, two children married.”
Full shock now registered on Boyd’s face as he stepped away from the wall. Ella couldn’t tell if there was judgment in his eyes.
“How did I not know, is that what you’re thinking?”
He shook his head.
“How did I spend two years with him, sleeping with him right next to me?”
“Details, Ella. No need for details.”
“I’m serious. What kind of a woman doesn’t know?”
“Okay.” Boyd let out a deep breath. “You get back to work and I’m relieved as hell to not be living in an episode of ER, so I’ll be quick. The guy must have been a good liar.”
“Or I’m a fool.”
“Were a fool, if that’s how you need to look at it. I’m guessing he’s the reason you moved?”
Ella nodded. “I should have noticed things. I should have known.”
“Yeah, and I should have made sure Claire and I were using protection every time so I wasn’t trying to raise a teenager on my own when what he needs are two sane parents. We could sit here in this… what is this place?”
“On-call room.”
“Right, this on-call room and ‘should have’ ourselves to death. That serves no purpose. Claire and I created a surprise that changed my life for the better. You made a mistake.”
Ella knew he was offering her part of his past, a piece of understanding to help steady her own history.
“It doesn’t feel that simple.”
“But it is. Well, maybe not for the asshat who’s circling for one more shot at you, but for you, it’s simple… unless you still love him.”
“I don’t. What we had was never…” Ella should have said after thirty-six years that she finally knew what love felt like, finally found a connection not wrapped in lies or ugliness, but she was at work and now wasn’t the best time to spill what remained of her heart right there at Boyd’s feet.
“Okay then, that wasn’t so bad. I told you every woman had a secret. Yours obviously is more complex than monkey bread.”
Ella smiled. “I like you, beer man.” She kissed him.
“Go save some lives, Doc.” He turned to leave. “You could stop by the brewery after work, watch Mason try to win back his high score from one of the waiters.”
“I’d like that.” She was in so much trouble. Ugly secret out of the bag and the man was still looking at her like she was the best thing in clogs and glasses.
Boyd tried not to draw comparisons as he drove to the brewery. Ella wasn’t Claire and even though Mason’s Social Studies teacher espoused that history often repeats itself, that’s not what was happening.
Less than twenty-four hours ago he’d been in bed with Ella, drifting into her eyes while she told him about her family and he told her about growing up. He’d shared his home, his bed. The fact that Claire started living with a guy who looked almost as sleek and shiny as the doctor back there less than a year after leaving him and Mason to fend for themselves was irrelevant. That she married said guy another year later was unimportant too. Boyd had spent years learning how to manage thoughts that did no one any good. That’s why he listened when she shared another piece of her past.
He and Ella had a great night. No matter what happened, nothing changed that. He could sense himself backing up, not quite changing his mind, but needing the tempo of his normal in case Ella decided to return to the big city, discovered she’d made a mistake. Somewhere along the way, Boyd had become fine with any and all scenarios. Knowing what was up ahead, expecting it, proved a hell of a lot less painful than the kick of surprise.
So, even if the shiny doctor returned newly divorced and begged her to come back. Even if she somehow morphed into stupid and believed him. Even if she returned to her bigger hospital and started buying shoes made by Italian elves too, Boyd would be fine. It was part of his makeup now, his “metal” as his dad phrased it. No matter what happened, Boyd and his son would always be fine.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ella received the lab work back that confirmed the girl in Exam 2 did have mono. She was preparing her discharge notes when Mrs. Graham approached the admit counter pulling Mr. Graham from behind. He was holding his stomach.
Trudy gestured for them to sit and began asking questions. Mr. Graham was gray and could barely answer. Ella tried not to play the game, but something felt dangerously off. She sensed a buzz, a tingling at the base of her neck.
“He’s been this way since this morning. He hasn’t eaten anything, but his stomach is kind of hard. I searched on WebMD,” Mrs. Graham continued as Trudy took his blood pressure and glanced over her shoulder.
Ella checked the digital display. His pressure was low, crazy low. Trudy continued with her questions as Ella moved closer.
“Mr. Graham,” she said, putting her hand on Trudy’s shoulder. “Pain on a scale of one to ten?”
He held up both hands to indicate ten and then wrapped his arms back around his midsection.
“Do you think it’s the flu, Doc? Maybe something he ate?”
“I do not think it is the flu, Mrs. Graham.” Ella tried not to sound too stern
, but she truly hated WebMD. “Trudy is going to take your husband into Exam 3 and we’re going to take a closer look. Things will move quickly for a little bit, but I promise to explain as soon as we know more.”
Mrs. Graham’s eyes went wide and then pooled with tears Ella didn’t have time to tend to because she needed to save this man’s life. She needed blood and a way to get him somewhere other than Petaluma Valley, and she needed all of it fast.
“Bri,” she called, eyes still on the friendly face of the hardware store man she’d first met in line at Sift with his granddaughter. He had a granddaughter and two grandsons if she remembered correctly.
“Did you call me?” Her friend and best nurse was at her back. Ella had been out of the game for a while, but this was something.
“I need you to find Dr. Pierce.”
“The ass—”
“Bri, please. I know he’s in the hospital today because I saw the sign for one of his keynotes when I came in this morning. Find him, now.”
She was gone without another word.
Ella went into Exam 3, where Trudy and two other nurses already had an IV going and one unit of blood was nearly gone. They were waiting for Ella to give them further instructions.
“Get him something for pain.” Ella took his blood pressure again herself.
“On the way.” Trudy noted his pressure in the computer.
“Mr. Graham, we’re going to try to make you more comfortable.”
“Good luck. I feel like my insides are ripping.”
She tried not to flinch. She knew the pain he was describing, not personally, but she’d had patients with this and worse before. A flush of calm she had not experienced in years ran through her.
“Mr. Graham, do you have a history of aneurysms that you are aware of? Family maybe?”
He grunted a response Ella didn’t understand.
It didn’t matter that Trudy hung another unit, which would make it three in the last fifteen minutes—his pressure was still low. Ella knew what was wrong and she’d almost figured out the best way to proceed.
“Trudy, call down to radiology now and get Mr. Graham in for a C-scan.”
“Excuse me, Doctor. Can I come in and sit with George?” Mrs. Graham appeared in the door. “Is that blood?”
Ella wanted to grab the man, wheel him into radiology, and do the scan herself. She didn’t have time for chitchat or the limitations of this hospital.
Instead, she explained to Mrs. Graham what was going to happen next. The small elderly woman held her white pocketbook with both hands. Ella wanted to put her at ease, but the truth was her husband was in trouble and as luck would have it, the answer to his prayers was somewhere in the building speaking way over everyone’s head in that self-absorbed way he’d mastered.
“They can take him now,” Trudy said.
Ella’s eyes briefly left Mr. Graham and found the nurse’s nervous but determined face.
“They’ll be here in two minutes,” she added.
Ella thanked her just as the radiology tech arrived with a wheelchair. Marc was right behind him.
After settling Mrs. Graham back in the waiting area, Ella turned and walked to the back of the nurses’ station.
“He has an aneurysm. Triple A, I’m sure of it.”
“The guy in the wheelchair?”
She nodded, recapped the symptoms, and then watched in amazement as the polished facade of Marc Pierce melted away and the brilliant doctor emerged. Engaged and more than a little curious, he asked where they were taking him and with little more information, he was gone.
If Ella was right, and she knew she was, Mr. Graham would not be staying at Petaluma Valley for longer than it took to find him transport. She would wait to hear from Marc first, but she was certain they’d Air Evac him out as soon as possible and Mr. Graham would be in surgery soon after.
Marc returned less than an hour later and finished coordinating efforts to have Mr. Graham sent to Zuckerberg Memorial. The aneurysm was close to three inches. Unstable, but not ruptured. Air Evac would arrive within thirty minutes.
“I’ve called ahead. They’re ready for him.”
“You’re not going with him?”
“El, Hamm just got out of surgery and if he can’t take it, Anderson will. He’ll be in good hands.”
“I want him in your hands. He’s lived here his whole life, raised kids and grandkids. Do you see the woman in the waiting area? They’ve been married for almost fifty years. He owns the hardware store right around the corner from my house.” Ella knew she sounded insane, but she was suddenly filled with such a rush of connection that it was spilling out of her. “You are the best, Marc, and Mr. Graham deserves nothing less.”
He sighed, ego firmly aglow, and she knew she’d secured arguably one of the best surgeons in the country for what should be an uneventful procedure now that the aneurysm had been found. She also knew that this world-class medical care came because of Marc’s sick need to win her back. To make the grand gesture in a bid to rekindle the enamored glow she’d once had around him. Before it all went to hell, and like her parents and the bad necklace, he turned her neck green.
Ella knew all of these things as she squeezed Mrs. Graham’s hand and explained that the helicopter was more noise than anything else. As she watched them fly off toward San Francisco, she didn’t care. It didn’t matter why he was going to save Mr. Graham’s life. All that mattered was that come next year’s Butter and Egg Days, Mr. Graham was outside his shop handing out those egg-shaped measuring tapes.
“Where is he?” Ella asked as her eyes adjusted to the shaded light of the Tap House.
Patrick raised a brow, and Cade pointed to the back like a kid used to tattling.
“He’s coming up with his autumn recipe. It’s commune with nature week. He’s out back. Probably not a good idea to bother him.”
“Thanks.” Walking past them, she didn’t care if it was a good time or not. She had something to say. After she got the call that Mr. Graham was resting comfortably in recovery, Ella decided she’d held back long enough.
Pushing through the creak of the large metal back door, she didn’t see him at first. Nothing but a couple of storage sheds, a huge overarching tree, and the river’s edge. Her eyes followed a rusted railing that separated the back of the brewery from a railroad track long out of use, and off in the far corner on a tree stump sat Boyd with a notebook open on another stump in front of him. He was smelling something in his left hand and tapping a pencil with the other.
Cade was right, he appeared to be in full contemplation. She was about to blow that Zen wide open when Boyd started walking away toward what she now knew was his office. Her feet wouldn’t move. The love and fear that propelled her to that spot somehow ran dry at the sight of him solitary and deep in thought. He didn’t see her before disappearing into the maze of buildings that was Foghorn Brewery.
Ella turned to leave right as Patrick opened the door.
“You’re leaving?”
“He seems busy.”
“He’s not. He is like a Boy Scout working toward his next badge. Come into my office and I’ll show you busy.”
She laughed.
“I came out here hoping for a front-row seat. From your entrance, I thought we’d be able to hear the fight from inside.”
She sat on the bench outside the door and was surprised when Patrick pulled at the legs of his crisp khakis and joined her.
“I get it now,” he said. She looked at him and recognized pieces of Boyd. She knew all about genetics, but as with most things learned in a book, it was different when it sat living and real right next to her.
“Get what?” she asked.
“You’re not mad at him. You love him.”
She would not have been more shocked if Patrick had stood up and dropped his pants. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but she had not expected someone so seemingly together and smooth to be a mind reader too. The wind blew across her face and she felt a
strange sense of relief that someone had uttered the words at last.
“You’re good.”
“I know.”
She laughed.
“So, why are you sitting here? He’s in his office making a big deal out of something that should take him half the day. It’s what he does. Christ, I hate nature week almost as much as deadline week. Believe me, you’re not bothering him.”
“He seems fine on his own. Happy.”
“First, there’s a big difference between fine and happy. As I’m sure you already know, Boyd makes do with what he’s given. It’s really one of the noble things about him. He pushes through and pushes on. Mason makes his life joyful, fulfilling, but you, Dr. Ella Walters, you are his happy.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I think we’ve already established that I’m good.”
She wondered how any woman or man for that matter was safe around the McNaughton brothers. They were each an element on their own, but good God, together they were a force. No wonder Foghorn Brewery beat the odds and was thriving. They were unstoppable.
“I’m fairly new at connecting.”
It was Patrick’s turn to laugh.
“Now that I’ve calmed down, I think I’ll wait for him to say it first,” she said.
“Bad idea?” He leaned forward. “He loves deeper than anyone I know, but words are not exactly his strong suit.”
She closed her eyes. It should feel awkward talking to a man she barely knew about a man she loved, but it didn’t. Nothing had gone as expected since Boyd walked into the ER, and there was no indication things were going to change.
Ella stood and brushed off her scrubs. She should have changed before she left. She used to hate it when doctors went to the grocery store or some school event for their kids in their scrubs. Germs, hello? She wanted to scream and now here she was, an emotional germ spreader.
“My nephew tells me you are the ‘girl expert.’”
Ella laughed. “If only I were the man expert, huh?”
“You’re a doctor. You’ll figure it out. The heart seems pretty important.”
“That’s almost poetic, Patrick.”
He stood holding up his finger to his lips in a childlike “shh” and then slipped back into the Tap House.
