Jack spun around and found Sophie throwing him a poisonous look.
“Those are mine,” she ground out angrily. “You have no right to take them down, much less throw them in the trash.”
“You’re right. I got carried away.” Why did he feel so foolish?
Sophie stomped over to the garbage can and pulled the posters out. One of them was wet, but the other was unmarred. “I’ll put them back up.”
Jack’s anger felt like a bomb in his head about to explode. He didn’t understand why he was reacting so violently. Posttraumatic stress from the accident?
He had to diffuse it and quickly. “Sophie,” he began, his head throbbing. There was no answer for his torment. He had to push her out of his life. Her presence was just too much for him to take. He couldn’t figure out his overwhelming need to run from her and at the same time give her the deepest, most soulful goodbye kiss he could muster. He was losing it.
“I’ve given your proposal a lot of thought. I won’t help you with the umbrella policy. I’ve been working with Emory since I moved here. I owe him personally. However, I won’t say anything to anyone about your participation in this—” he pointed to the posters “—agency.”
“That’s big of you,” she spat out, hoisting the posters under her arm. “You know what, Jack? You do what your conscience tells you. I hope you can continue to sleep at night because I certainly can’t. If we don’t do something about the drugs in this town, you and everyone else better get used to more overdoses, more car crashes and more innocent people like Aleah dying, because that’s what’s going to happen.”
Jack’s face burned. Who was she to lecture him when she was partly to blame for Aleah? “You think a few posters, some radio ads and pat-on-the-back, feel-good counseling sessions are going to stop drugs? National programs and agencies with millions of dollars behind them haven’t made a dent in decades. In fact, it’s getting worse. And you, one woman, think you can make a difference? Get real.”
Sophie moved so close to Jack their noses almost touched. He could see fire in her eyes and the blood vessels in her temple twitched. He’d never felt such animosity in his life. She ground her jaw and he could see her sifting curses out of her language as she spoke.
“I feel sorry for you, Jack. You see a problem and instead of trying to fix it, you wave it off to some other official or accept the status quo. You don’t seek the questions that haven’t been asked, the ones that just might give us the answers we need. I’m not like that. I’m going to keep searching until I find an approach that works. If I have to collaborate with the cops, I will. Or the courts, I will. But, I swear to God, I will make a difference. And I’m not stopping until I do. Maybe it’s only a few posters today, but tomorrow or the next day, I might be the one who saves a life.”
Sophie backed away and headed toward the crowd.
Jack watched after her and saw that Mrs. Beabots was waiting for her nearby—and had clearly heard their entire conversation.
Sophie stopped dead in her tracks and spun to face him. “One more thing. You can be angry and blame me forever, but none of it will bring Aleah back.”
Sophie marched over to Mrs. Beabots, who took her arm as they moved into the crowd and disappeared.
Jack lifted his wineglass to his lips and realized his hand was shaking. Sophie had hit her mark. He went to the bar and put his glass down.
He walked out of the museum without ever having seen the Silver Cloud.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SOPHIE SLIPPED INTO the break room at the ablation center without detection. She went to her locker and took out her work sneakers that never left the hospital, a pair of clean socks and a fresh set of surgical scrubs before going to the bathroom to change. She wound her hair into a coil and clipped it to the top of her head then pulled a surgical cap over it.
She checked her watch. Ten minutes to spare. Carefully hanging her dress clothes up in the locker, she shut the door and moved quickly down the hall to the operating suite.
Nate was in the computer room going over the patient’s angioplasty photographs, which were mounted on a large screen. There were six computers in there that would map and chart the ablation Nate would perform this morning.
“Good morning, Doctor,” Sophie said brightly as she walked in and closed the door behind her.
Nate glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, you’re here. What? No cafeteria coffee this morning?”
Sophie had been at a breakfast meeting with Art Bellerus, the head of the largest law firm in town, asking for a donation for the Alliance. She’d easily consumed four cups of coffee during her pitch and Art’s probing follow-up questions. She often brought Nate a cup of coffee, but it had slipped her mind today. Not that he needed it since his wife never let him leave home without the best cappuccino on the planet. “You can’t possibly be missing hospital swill.”
“I’m not. But I’ve noticed you don’t hit the cafeteria in the mornings anymore. What’s up?”
“Uh...” Sophie trolled for excuses. “I’m going green. Tea, that is. Trying to cut back on caffeine. It’s part of my personal overhaul program. Since I started running, I find I don’t need so much coffee.” She’d have to account for that big fat lie when she died. She was practically living on caffeine these days. She was spending too many hours after work at the Alliance offices with Eleanor or talking to Jeremy on the phone, he in a phone booth, she under the covers in bed, late at night or early in the morning when he was struggling with depression or trying desperately not to use. This was the third breakfast meeting she’d had in a week, which cut into her early morning running time.
Sophie was being anything but healthy. She refused to believe she was obsessed with her work at the Alliance, but the signs were practically neon with warnings.
“I know what you mean. Maddie’s cut my caffeine in half. I can’t go cold turkey, though. Frankly, I don’t see that much advantage in it.” Nate pointed at the screen. “See this area here, near the aorta?”
“I do,” Sophie replied, moving in for a closer look.
“That’s our area of concentration today. There’s a cluster of cells over here on the right ventricle, as well. If we ablate all these, I think we can eliminate the patient’s arrhythmia.”
“Seems textbook to me,” she said.
Nate peered at the screen. “Wait. What about this area here? See this spot?”
“I do, now that you point it out.”
“Mark that on his chart. I want to go in there and check it out.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Sophie replied as Nate rose and left the room.
Sophie sat at the screen and made her own notes as she always did prior to any of their procedures. Just then, the cell in her pocket rang. This phone was for hospital use only and was only connected to other stations and units within the building. Every nurse, tech, doctor and assistant had one. “This is Sophie.”
The admitting nurse in the ablation unit reported that the patient was being brought down from his room after being prepped for the procedure.
“I’ll be right there.”
Sophie stood and went directly to the operating room.
The anesthesiologist had just administered a mild sedative since the procedure was expected to last less than two hours. For longer procedures, the patient would be put under completely.
The operation began with Sophie preparing the catheter for Nate to use. Just as Nate reached for the catheter, Sophie dropped it. Fortunately, her quick reflexes snapped into action and she grabbed the hand piece before it hit the floor, which would have contaminated the unit.
Nate frowned, but remained silent as he took the catheter from her hand.
“Sorry,” Sophie whispered behind her surgical mask.
Nate ignored her and went to work.
Beads of sweat sprang up on So
phie’s forehead. She’d never had to mop her own brow during a procedure, but today she did. And Nate noticed that, too. So did the other nurse in the room.
Nate guided the ablation catheter into the blood vessels around the heart and performed his initial study to locate where the erroneous signals were taking place. He noted these out loud to Sophie so she could track them on the computer. Once pinpointed, Nate was able to destroy the tissue so that it could not continue to send the wrong electrical impulses to the heart, which caused the arrhythmias.
They were an hour and twelve minutes into the procedure when Nate said to Sophie, “Remind me where that last spot was that we talked about this morning.”
“Spot?”
He glanced at her and then back at his work. “Yes. When we were in the computer room. I told you to mark it in his chart. I want to check that out.”
Sophie had forgotten about the extra area on the left ventricle that Nate had seen. She had not put the information in the computer, but thankfully, she remembered it now. “It’s at the top of the left ventricle. Although most of his misfirings are from the right, this spot is at about eleven o’clock.”
Sophie immediately entered the information into the patient’s computerized chart, which was in the surgery room, then returned to the patient’s side. She consulted the screen Nate was staring at. She pointed to the place they’d noticed earlier. “On this screen you can’t see it at all,” she said as she watched the catheter move toward the area.
“No, wait. There it is,” Nate said. “I see it. It’s faint. And you’re right. It was easier to see on the other computers.”
“Maybe we should switch these screens,” Sophie offered.
Nate’s blue eyes locked on hers. “That’s a brilliant idea. Maybe this one is losing its juice.”
“I’ll write up a requisition for a new one. This is too important,” she stated and prepared for the withdrawal of the catheter.
When the procedure was over and the patient was safely in recovery, Sophie went to the break room and grabbed a high-protein bar.
She propped her elbow on the table and cradled her forehead in her hand. She was so tired she could barely chew. She heard the back door open and close, which meant that one of the staff members was going out for lunch or coming in.
“Sophie? Is that you?” a woman’s voice asked.
“Uh-huh,” she replied without looking up, taking another bite of the sawdust-tasting bar.
Maddie walked over and placed a silver insulated bag on the table. “A granola bar? Is that how you’re staying so thin these days?”
“Me? Thin? You have the wrong Sophie,” she replied quickly and then cranked her head to see Maddie. “Oh, hi.”
“I brought Nate some lunch from the deli. He didn’t get much dinner last night because I was in Chicago till after nine.”
“Do you still have to oversee those new cafés?”
“I want them done right. They have my name on them.”
“I would have thought owning a franchise would be a breeze. Sign the contract and sit back. Take life easy.”
Maddie shrugged off her sweater and put it on the back of a folding chair. “I’ve come to understand that there’s nothing easy about life at all.”
“I totally agree,” Sophie said, leaning back. She smiled at Maddie.
Maddie stared at her in surprise. “Are you all right? You look like you haven’t slept in weeks. Or maybe you’re coming down with something.”
“I’m fine. Nothing that one of your cappuccinos wouldn’t fix,” Sophie said with a flippancy she didn’t feel. Right now she felt she was over a hundred years old and weighed a ton. If she gave in to sleep, she was afraid she’d never wake up.
Maddie’s green eyes narrowed. “I’m not buying it. You worked all weekend in the ER again, didn’t you?”
“Uh-huh.”
Maddie reached across the table and touched Sophie’s forearm. “Listen to me. I may not be the doctor or the nurse, but you need to cut back on your workload. I know what I’m talking about. Last fall, I got so strung out before our wedding, I thought I was going to keel over. Thank goodness we had a honeymoon. That’s also when I realized I could make two trips to Chicago every month, but not four or six. These extra hours are taking a toll, Sophie.”
Sophie wondered what Maddie would say if she knew the truth about how many extra hours she’d been putting in, taking calls from Jeremy and still trying to raise money for the Alliance when she could.
But she had to admit that Maddie was right.
Today, Sophie had bungled her job twice and Nate had caught her on both counts. She was sure she’d be the topic of conversation when Maddie and Nate were alone.
Whether she liked it or not, choices were going to be made for Sophie if she kept this up. She couldn’t risk being outed about the Alliance. What she could do was confess to working too many weekend hours.
“Thanks, Maddie. Maybe I should cut back on my shifts in the ER. I’ve been doing it for seven months or so now. I guess it’s more work than I realized.”
“It doesn’t have to be forever, Sophie. Just till you get caught up on rest. Reevaluate your priorities.”
Sophie struggled to give Maddie a smile. Priorities. That was the problem. Sophie had too many that all should be number one. Her job. The ER. Jeremy. Eleanor. Oh, and there was that little thing—her own health.
Wisdom told Sophie to take care of herself. Guilt nagged her to push harder for the Alliance. Commitment to those who needed her shouted for her to stay with the ER. From within this din came the sound of Jack’s voice.
Sophie had been hearing Jack’s recriminations even in her dreams, but she’d also heard his pleas and the words of gratitude he’d given her before Aleah’s death.
Her idea to give Frenchie to Jack had been a good one. Not just for the dog and, obviously, for Jeremy, but as a peace offering to Jack. Frenchie had already brought out his softer side. When she’d watched Jack pet and talk to Frenchie, Sophie’s heart melted. Remembering their confrontation at the car museum, her emotions flipped over. She would have loved to douse him with ice water. Wake him up.
Her rant should have opened his eyes.
If he could only see that the differences between them were pointless and counterproductive.
Still, she couldn’t stay angry with Jack for long. In fact, she felt an unfamiliar closeness to him. He was more than the ordinary challenge a guy presented to her. For once in her life, a man’s respect and allegiance to her and her dreams was important. She wished there were no obstacles between them. No grief. No animosity.
Sophie couldn’t help wondering what kind of relationship, if any, they would have had if Aleah had lived. Would they be friends? Perhaps even more than friends? In such a small town, it was likely they would have crossed paths some other way. But would they have gotten to know one another as they had now?
A dozen images of Jack’s face, broken, bloody and now healed crossed her mind. Would he ever truly forgive her? And why would it mean so much to her if he did?
Maddie was right. She needed to give her “priorities” a great deal of thought. And she needed to start with Jack.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JACK STOOD ON the deck of his condo and watched the sky fill with striations of pink, lavender, amber and orange as the sun dropped to the horizon. He’d just finished his second run of the day. He wasn’t sure if it was the long summer hours calling him out to the trail or if it was the knowledge that once winter hit, his only option was his treadmill. He didn’t want to consider the third reason for his urge to run, which was that no matter how much he accomplished during the day, he couldn’t get Sophie out of his mind.
Running till the sweat poured from his body in sheets should have done the trick, but it didn’t.
&nb
sp; Twenty, no thirty, times a day he heard Sophie’s voice telling him that no matter what he did or thought, no matter how guilty he felt, Aleah was never coming back.
Sophie had nailed him. Dead to rights.
He did feel guilty about Aleah. If he hadn’t insisted she attend the seminar in Chicago, none of this would have happened.
Mainly, though, Jack was guilty of trying to find people to blame to ease his own conscience. He wanted to blame Greg Fulton, the addict who hit them. Blame the drugs. Blame the legal system. Blame the hospital. Blame Sophie for doing her job.
“Sometimes, Jack, you can be the biggest jerk.”
He peeled off his sweat-soaked shirt and draped a towel around his neck. “Stupid, too.”
He glanced down at his feet, where Frenchie was watching the view with him. Mercifully, she made no sign of agreeing with him.
“C’mon, girl. Time for your supper.”
Jack went to the kitchen and put a half cup of dry dog food mixed with two tablespoons of cottage cheese in Frenchie’s bowl. The vet had told him about the cottage cheese, which would help her put on weight. Frenchie scarfed down the food in seconds and slurped up some water before prancing over to her pink plaid bed and settling down.
“Good girl. I have to take a shower.”
Frenchie ignored him and closed her eyes, secure in her trust of Jack to do just as he said.
Jack let the water run until it was ice cold. He shampooed his hair, scrubbed himself with a long-handled brush and rinsed off the salt, soap and sweat.
After toweling dry, he put on a clean shirt and jeans. As he combed his wet hair, he looked at his reflection.
“So, Sir Idiot, while Nurse Nightingale is out there in the world trying to save humanity, you need to find a way to dig your way out of this hole you’ve created.”
He put down the comb on the granite counter. I should donate the policy. Or I could give her a donation. He leaned forward and shook his head. “Or you could stick to your guns and steer clear of her altogether.”
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