Her L.A. Knight

by Lynne Marshall

  ORIF—open reduction and internal fixation—of the left femur, fractured pelvis with traction, and hairline fracture of the right ulna. Must have been one heck of a motorcycle ride. She pushed her own memories away.

  She took the middle-aged man’s blood pressure and scanned his temperature from the ear canal. His long silver hair was pulled back into a straggly ponytail halfway down his back. “Any numbness or tingling in your extremities?”

  He stoically shook his head.

  She pressed the nail beds of his left toes and right hand. There was good blood return. No evidence of edema, and she could comfortably slide her finger underneath the cast.

  “I need my pain shot,” he said in a gravelly voice.

  She nodded, thinking he was probably used to having a cigarette dangling from his lips and might be a little edgy about the no-smoking rule. Before she could leave, the bedpan patient called out that he was ready for her.

  “I’ll be right with you,” she said loudly toward the curtain. She turned back to her other patient. “I’ll be back shortly, after I check when your last shot was.” She excused herself from the traction patient and headed for the curtain.

  On her way to the other bed she glanced outside to the nurses’ station and saw Sierra. She was handing out fliers to all of the available employees, and left a stack on the countertop. They exchanged caring sisterly glances and wiggly finger waves across the room before Sierra left.

  Later, when China was drawing up the pain shot, she curiously glimpsed one of the sheets. Sierra had written a blurb about the recent earthquake and suggested that fellow employees think of a person they had been particularly impressed with during the code orange. She gave an internet address where they could vote before the end of the week. China knew who she’d vote for. Hands down, it would be Rick.

  She may have blown her chances with Rick, and he may have let her down by taking the easy way out, but there was no denying he’d been a hero the night of the earthquake.

  She’d thought she’d finally worked through her past in the ladies’ room on their date. How foolish of her to have thought that. Yet, in the parking lot she’d let down her guard and given herself over to Rick completely. She’d never done that before with anyone. He’d taken her to a place she’d never been before, and it had nearly scared her to death.

  She’d freaked out when he’d seen her legs. She’d seen the expression on his face. No one could deny it had been a look of horror.

  In all other respects he was a great guy and a dream lover, and she wished things could have worked out. Even though she’d insisted that he leave, she had really wanted him to stay, to fight for her. To fight for them. How twisted was that? As twisted as her legs. How could the poor guy win?

  As it turned out, they’d both lost.

  She’d only thought she’d been ready to change, but old habits died hard. She was still punishing herself for almost finding happiness. She’d sabotaged any chance she’d had with Rick. Well, damn it, it was time to get off the guilt train.

  Sick of being held hostage by her past, she made a decision to finally do something about it. It might be too late for her and Rick, but her next community-based project would be the perfect place to start being honest and exposing herself. And what a relief it would be to not have to hide any more. Now, if she could only gather enough nerve to speak in public.

  A week later, at the beginning of the afternoon shift, Rick tried to avoid Sierra, but the auburn-haired older sister of his latest dating disaster wouldn’t let him slip away.

  She cornered him in the ER nurses’ lounge, arms folded, eyes narrowed with a burning green-eyed stare. Eyes that uncomfortably reminded him of a certain woman he missed with all his soul. “You mess with my sister and you mess with me.”

  That got his attention.

  “Listen, I’ve phoned her over and over again. She won’t take my calls. I even went to her house and she wouldn’t answer the door.”

  She rubbed her cheek as if thinking things through, and softened her look. “Don’t give up on her.”

  That wasn’t the tack he’d expected her to take. If she’d cursed him and threatened to kick his ass, he’d have believed her, but this?

  He scratched his neck. “For your information, she’s the one who insists I’m repulsed by her legs. She wouldn’t listen to anything I told her, and said I should leave. There was no changing her mind.” Noting her belligerent stare, not unlike China’s, he lifted his palms in surrender. “Listen, Sierra, China made things very clear. She doesn’t want me around.”

  Sierra glanced around and lowered her voice. “You saw her. Now you know what she’s been up against all these years. She needs someone to stick by her, not run away.”

  He worked the muscle in his jaw, choking on the words he knew he had to say. “Then she needs to quit pushing people away.”

  Sierra sighed. “She’ll kill me for telling you, but here’s the deal. Her fiancé broke off their engagement when he finally got her undressed. The bastard told her from the waist up she was perfect, but he needed the whole package. Can you imagine how that must have made her feel?”

  “What? What kind of…?”

  “I don’t know what went down between the two of you, but she must have seen something to set her off.”

  Oh, hell. He’d gone clinical at the sight of her legs, and had been fascinated with what a fantastic job the orthopedic docs had done on salvaging them. How must that have looked in her eyes?

  Dumbfounded, he didn’t know how to reply to Sierra. Before he thought it through he said, “I tried to talk to her and she wouldn’t give me the time of day.” Rick shrugged, at a loss. “Maybe the best thing I can do now is give her some space while we both work things out.”

  Sierra’s expression hardened.

  “Look, I do want your advice. It’s just not a good time right now.”

  She unfolded her arms and walked away. He’d let China down, and had now succeeded in disappointing Sierra, too. He scrubbed his face and fought off a headache.

  When he had the room to himself, he dug out the interoffice envelope marked “Confidential” from his back pocket. He recognized the personnel stamp, and cautiously opened the letter.

  “We regret to inform you that you were not selected as ER Supervisor. At this time, Hospital administration has opted to continue the search with nurse practitioners rather than physicians’ assistants.”

  He wadded it up and tossed it into the trash.

  “I’m taking my break,” he called out as he left the ER, heading for the stairwell. He took the stairs two at a time and hoped his anger would cool off by the time he made it to his father’s office on the fourth floor.

  China couldn’t believe what she was hearing. After her summons, she sat across from the Mercy Hospital public relations representative in the fourth floor office, stunned.

  “As I said, I’m retiring in three months, and I think you should consider applying for the job. Your track record with community events is stellar.” She held up a full-page write-up, including several pictures from the local newspaper about the high school safe driving event from three weeks before. “Our hospital’s name was mentioned a dozen times in this, and it places us in the lead not only as a medical facility but as a partner in the neighborhood. This kind of PR is priceless.”

  China gave a nervous smile and fidgeted in her chair. “But doesn’t your job require public speaking?”

  The silver-haired woman nodded. “I do make several appearances a month on behalf of Mercy Hospital, but most of my time is spent here at my desk, making plans.”

  China shuddered at the thought of public appearances. The woman must have picked up on it and backed off. She steepled her fingers and sat back in her chair, staring intently at China. During an extended silence she tapped her index fingers together, as though working things out in her mind.

  China cleared her throat.

  “Listen,” the other woman said. “Why don’t you
think about it? It’s an opportunity you may not want to pass up. I’m only going to retire once. I’d like to see this job go to the right person.”

  Nodding her head, China stood and prepared to leave. “Thank you so much for thinking about me. I promise to consider the offer.” She withdrew toward the door. “Oh,” she said, “so is everything a go for next month’s community fundraiser for more safe teen driving programs?”

  The woman glanced at the figures on the pages China had handed her when she’d first walked in.

  “Yes, this looks good. And the fact that your last event came in under budget allows us to cover some of the bigger costs. I think this event will be a big neighborhood draw. Go ahead with your plans. I’m sure the budget committee will agree.”

  “Thanks,” China chirped, feeling elated for the first time in two weeks.

  She rushed out the door in time to see Rick barreling his way down the hall. He moved like a man on a mission, ready to ignite some emotional fireworks.

  Feeling the wind sucked out of her when their eyes met, she stepped back against the wall. He faltered on his determined path. Knowing she owed him an explanation, an apology even, she couldn’t bring herself to speak. He looked expectantly at her. Embarrassed by her lack of courage, she looked away.

  He brushed past her to his father’s office two doors down.

  She watched him enter. If she hadn’t blown it between them for good before, her silence had certainly done it now.

  Dr. Morell was sitting at his desk, glasses on the end of his nose, reading a stack of papers, when Rick barged into his office. He glanced up with a glint of surprise in his eyes and moved back in his chair. In a flash he toughened his face with new resolve.

  “Did you have anything to do with me not getting the job?”

  Surprise crossed the older man’s face.

  “I’ve been passed over twice now.” Rick leaned knuckles on the desk, and drilled his father with a vitriolic glare. “My interview went great. My job performance reviews are impeccable. Attendance: perfect. Skills: top notch. What went wrong? And why do I think you had something to do with it?”

  Dr. Morell removed his glasses and tossed them on his desk. He pinned Rick with a no-nonsense stare. “I warned you that your constant need to bend or break the rules could hold you back. Sit down,” he said, in a commanding tone.

  Rick straightened up, looking down at his father in defiance. “I’ll stand.”

  After a moment’s hesitation the white-haired man leaned forward, rested his elbows on the desk and cast angry eyes upward. “You’ve never listened to me before, so why start now? I felt my input was important to the personnel committee, and I expressed my concerns. Last time I checked, this is still a free country, isn’t it? The fact that they listened shows the respect I hold from my peers.”

  “All it shows me is that you know how to bully and manipulate people to get what you want.” Filled with restless anger, Rick paced. “It never worked with me, and it’s bothered the hell out of you all my life.” He stopped in his tracks to glare at his father. “If I’d done everything you wanted me to do as a kid, would things have been different?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “You son of a bitch.” He went back to leaning on the desk. “You treated me like a dog jumping through hoops. Every time I got close, you moved the hoop further away. And Mom did everything you wanted, but when she needed you the most, you abandoned her. I could never trust someone like you.”

  Dr. Morell rose to meet Rick’s stare, raising his voice to match his son’s. “I loved your mother. I still do. And I made sure she had the finest medical care and the best bedside nursing available.”

  “You still don’t get it, do you? She needed you to be there for her, not some nurses’ aide.”

  Nose to nose, they glowered at each other, until Dr. Morell sat down.

  “You’re getting off point here,” he said, lowering his voice. “We’re talking about you not getting a job that you obviously thought you deserved. Being my son may have benefits in life, none of which you’ve ever wanted to take advantage of. But I didn’t want it to look like nepotism and have the nurse practitioners who applied challenge Mercy Hospital’s decision for ER supervisor.”

  “What right did you have to step in and quash my chances for advancement? Does everything have to be about political correctness?”

  “I owe it to the hospital,” he snapped back. “As the head of Internal Medicine, I must put the hospital first.”

  “I’m not a puppet that you can control. That’s what’s always bothered you about me, isn’t it? You’ve never been able to crush my independence.” Rick prepared to leave. “Well, here’s a newsflash. You were so worried about the nurse practitioners challenging Mercy Hospital’s choice. I’m going to be the one to do it.” He jabbed at the air with his finger. “I’ll take this to the hospital union if I have to. We’ll see who backs down first.”

  Before he did anything he’d regret, he stormed out the door, slamming it.

  Still in a rage, he pictured China’s face. She’d turned away from him in the hall. So that was the way it was going to be.

  Her forced himself to calm down and think things through a bit more. If nothing else, China had gotten him to face up to his father.

  Sierra met China on their dinner break in the cafeteria. Concern colored Sierra’s eyes. She offered a single-arm hug when China sat down beside her. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m OK.” After putting her food tray on the table, she hugged her sister back.

  “Hey, you’re wearing a skirt.”

  “They’re culottes. It’s getting warmer these days, and they’re pretty comfortable to work in.” China smoothed the fabric with the palms of her hands.

  “Well, whatever you call them, it’s great to see you in a skirt again.”

  Desperately wanting to move the subject away from her newest venture with change, China asked, “How’s life in the ER?”

  “Same old, same old.” Sierra attacked her extra-large salad like a woman who hadn’t eaten in days.

  “Orthopedics is killing my back.” China pretended to eat by moving her vegetables around her plate. “My legs throb by the end of a shift. That’s why I’m wearing these extra-thick support hose.”

  “Why don’t you come back to the ER?”

  “You know I can’t do that. Besides, I’m considering a new opportunity in hospital public relations. I’ve even signed up for a public speaking class. Can you believe it?”

  Sierra looked pleased about China showing the first signs of life since she and Rick had had their blow-up.

  “That’s fantastic. You’ve got an incredible story to tell, and I think it would help your cause if you did.”

  China sighed, afraid to consider the unthinkable.

  “Hey,” Sierra said. “There’s lots of scuttlebutt in the ER. Rick didn’t get the supervisor job and he’s furious.”

  “That’s so unfair. If anyone deserves that job, it’s Rick. I saw him storm into Dr. Morell’s office this afternoon and could hear the fireworks all the way out by the elevator. I’m pretty sure he told him exactly what was on his mind.”

  “He’s talking about going to the union or quitting altogether.”

  “Oh, no!” China exclaimed. “That would be a tremendous loss for Mercy Hospital.”

  “We all agree, but apparently Administration doesn’t see it that way.”

  “What a waste of a good man. It’d be horrible to…” The obvious comparison of business with personal life made China falter. “To…to lose him.”

  Sierra lifted one brow. “I agree. That’s why I’m making my newsletter poll public tomorrow. An overwhelming number of employees voted Rick Morell the employee of the year. Just about everyone had something good to say about his involvement in the code orange last month. It’s time Administration, namely Dr. Morell, realized it, too.”

  Maybe she couldn’t hope for a relationship with Rick, but at least
she could help him get the job he wanted and deserved. Feeling hopeful, China had another suggestion to make. “Why don’t you personally deliver the results to Dr. Morell?”

  An impish grin spread across Sierra’s round face. “Great minds think alike, but I have an even better idea. I think I’ll have one of Mercy Hospital’s biggest financial patrons deliver it to him. Mom.”

  China widened her eyes and covered her mouth, and she and her sister giggled. “Perfect.”

  Sierra’s beeper went off.

  China glanced at her watch, noting her break was up and it was time to get back to the orthopedic ward.

  “I’d love to be a fly on the wall in that meeting.”

  Two days later, Dr. Morell, after an urgent morning phone call from an important hospital patron, met Cass Seabury at the door to his office.

  She waltzed into the room in a loud, multicolored caftan, practically filling out the wide dress. She gave a bland smile and offered a businesslike handshake.

  He reciprocated, and accompanied her to the chair across from his desk. After she had settled in, he circled around to his own chair.

  On task as a concerned medical professional, he placed his hands on the desk, one atop the other, and looked earnestly at his guest and hospital patron. “How may I help you, Ms. Seabury?”

  “I have a bit of information that I thought you might be interested in.” She whipped out a brightly colored piece of paper from her basket-like purse and waved it in the air. “As you may know, my daughter Sierra is the unofficial hospital newsletter editor.

  “Granted, it is an underground newspaper.” She smiled widely with a hint of pride. “She did the same thing in high school and college. Takes a bit after me in that regard. Rebellious.” She drawled the word, with a sparkle in her bright green eyes, as though he should be excited about what she had to say. “Anyway, my point is, those in charge don’t always keep their hands on the pulse of the hospital.”

  She passed the piece of paper across the desk for him to study. He placed his glasses on the end of his nose and pretended to be interested.