"I'm glad you're here, Annie belle," Kieran Grady still
sounded groggy from yesterday's surgery. He seemed too big
for the hospital bed with his long legs nearly hanging over
the end of the frame, the left with a hip-to-foot cast
elevated on three pillows.
"I'm glad I'm here, too, Dad." Anne patted her father's
hand, making sure his IV was in place and infusing well. An
RN for eight years, she couldn't help herself.
"Take care of your mom until I get home," he said,
drifting closer to sleep.
"Of course I will," she whispered. Good thing she could
get the time off from her new job until Lucas got
officially discharged from the army.
Anne's cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She glanced at
the screen. "That's the E.R., Dad. Mom must be ready to go
home."
With eyes closed, he nodded.
There was also a text message from Lark: How are Mom and
Dad doing? Give them kisses from me. Wish I could be there,
but school is crazy! Love you guys. :) No way would anyone
expect her sister to leave medical school midsemester when
Anne and her brother Lucas could be there for their
parents. She texted back: They're fine. I'll call you later.
She bent to kiss her dad's forehead avoiding the
scratches and one nasty-looking laceration near his
receding hairline. "This one is from me, and this is from
Lark."
He smiled then grimaced. "I swear," he mumbled. "I never
saw that car coming."
Considering her parents had been on a motorcycle, things
could have been a whole lot worse. As an RN she'd seen
plenty of motorcycle accident fallouts firsthand, and she
didn't approve of his "hobby" but there was no way her
father would give up his Harley. And up until now, Mom was
as gung ho about their Sunday rides on the open roads as he
was. Anne had a hunch Mom might be singing another tune
from now on.
Anne said goodbye to her father and his nurse, making
sure the RN had her cell number as well as her family's
home phone, then headed toward the elevator leaving the
plaster and disinfectant scent of the orthopedic ward
behind.
She'd arrived in California early the next morning from
Portland, Oregon, but had still missed their surgeries.
She'd found the first available flight out the moment she'd
been contacted by the E.R. nurse Sunday night. Adrenaline
had burst from the center of her chest and tingled out to
her fingers and toes at the news. They could have been
killed. Oh, God, she couldn't bear to think about the
pillars in her life falling…and thankfully, their injuries
would heal. Not soon enough for Dad, she thought, smiling
and shaking her head as the elevator descended down to the
first floor.
After arriving in Whispering Oaks in time for her
mother's hospital discharge that morning, she'd taken her
home. By midafternoon, when Mom said the pain was
excruciating, she'd realized her mother's full arm cast had
pressed on a nerve and she was losing sensitivity in her
fingers. Anne had turned right around and brought her back
to the E.R. to have it removed and a new cast applied
before there was a chance for nerve damage.
The small Whispering Oaks hospital overflowed with
patients, and they'd spent the better part of the evening
waiting. When the orderly wheeled off her mother to the
cast room, she'd gone to visit her father in the ortho ward.
Anne got off the elevator as an ambulance siren blared
in the distance. She approached the emergency reception
desk noting that every chair in the waiting room was
filled. A TV monitor droned on with some reality show that
only a few people, besides the desk clerk, paid attention
to.
"My mother's ready for discharge," she said. "Beverly
Grady?"
The distracted receptionist tore away her gaze from the
TV long enough to check her list then, without saying a
word or offering a smile, she reached under the desk and
pressed a buzzer which opened the door to the department.
Anne rushed to her mother's E.R. cubicle.
"How's your father?" Beverly blurted out the moment Anne
entered. With a twisted waistband on her teal workout
pants, and one sleeve of the jacket hanging over her
shoulder, her mother looked out of character from her usual
jeans and trendy jerseys approach to style. But Mom
wouldn't let Anne bring her to the hospital without makeup
and her earrings, the large gold hoops now tangled in her
shoulder-length hair, her bright lipstick half chewed off.
"He's doing well, Ma. The nurses say he'll be home in a
few days."
"Great news. Why did it have to be my right arm? I'm
useless with my left hand. How am I going to take care of
him or do my hair or put on makeup?" She shook her head,
her layered, bottle brown hair bobbed along. "Do you have
any idea how hard it is to hook a bra with one hand?"
"That's why I'm here, remember?" Anne stifled her smile.
Beverly pursed her lips, brows raised, looking
impish. "See the extreme some parents will go to just to
get their daughter home?"
Anne shook her head and smiled. "An invitation would
have been fine."
Beverly swiped the air with her one good arm. "You
always have excuses." Her mother laughed wryly, and Anne
joined her, avoiding thoughts better left unspoken once
again.
"But you and Dad liked visiting Portland." Other than
one Christmas three years ago, Anne hadn't returned to
Whispering Oaks since she'd gone off to college to get her
nursing degree. And that Christmas visit had been mainly
because Lucas had gotten a leave for the holidays. It
wasn't because she didn't love her parents, no; she loved
them with all her heart. It was the guilt and bad memories
that seemed to overshadow everything else about her
hometown whenever she ventured back.
"But this is your home, Annie."
Truth was, Portland felt more like home these days, she
just didn't have the nerve to tell her mother that.
A shrill siren grew closer, soon coming to an abrupt
halt outside the rear of the emergency department.
A frazzled looking nurse appeared at their cubicle with
dark smudges beneath her eyes, some form of updo gone askew
and a wheelchair. "Ready to go?"
Doors flew open at the back of the E.R. and a group of
firemen wheeled in a couple people on gurneys. The nurse
shot a quick glance over her shoulder, then pushed the
wheelchair inside, back to business as usual. Out of reflex
from her old E.R. days Anne tensed, but reminded herself
she was a clinic nurse now, and that today she was on the
patient side of the hospital equation. It felt so
different, and yet her curiosity about the latest intake
wouldn't back down.
Anne took a quick look at her mother's fingers, pressed
the nail beds to make sure the capillaries blanched and
pinked right back up. "Can you move your fingers?" she
asked over the ruckus.
"Annie, this feels a hundred times better than the last
cast."
"Okay then, we're ready to go." Anne gave an assuring
smile to the nurse.
She helped her mother into the chair and, after signing
the discharge papers, began to roll her toward the exit.
"Keep that cast elevated," the nurse said as she rushed
off toward the new patients on the gurneys. So much for
patient discharge education.
Across the department a male figure caught Anne's eye.
He stood, legs planted in a wide stance, arms folded, just
apart from the health care workers and firemen team huddle.
"There's my hero," her mother called out. Then to Anne
she said, "Jack was the first on scene Sunday at the
accident."
Jack? As in Jackson Lightfoot?
In a whiplash response, Anne turned toward the man just
as he noticed her. A thousand crazy thoughts barged into
her head as she peered at an apparition. What in the world
was he doing here? She blinked as the ghost of heartbreak
past came into full view.
Except he looked so much better than that high school
jock she'd remembered. As if that were possible. He wore
the standard fireman navy blue T-shirt and slacks—without
the yellow rubber pants and suspenders—shiny work boots and
a serious expression. His blond hair was shorter and
darker, and all traces of boyish features were gone. It'd
been twelve years, and he still set off a spark in her
chest—a feeling so foreign, it felt more like anxiety.
"Mrs. Grady, what are you doing back here?" he said to
her mother, though his gaze had found and stuck to Anne.
"Annie said I needed a new cast." She attempted to lift
the heavy, hot pink, fiberglass-covered arm.
Anne wished she could disappear behind the nearest
cubicle curtain, but Jack stared at her and offered a
tentative smile, the kind that only lifted half of his
mouth.
"Anne."
She nodded, fighting off the rush of feelings blind-
siding her. Nerves zinged, blood rushed to her face and her
legs, perfectly stable and strong a moment before, felt
unsteady. She was thirty but had taken the fast track back
to high school insecurity. "Hey, Jack. Hi." At a loss for
what to do or say, and trying desperately to act composed,
she went for inane. "Are you a fireman?"
"I volunteer a couple times a week."
His chest had broadened and bulked up since she'd last
seen him, and his voice had dropped half a scale.
He'd definitely turned into the man that swaggering
eighteen-year-old had hinted at.
He bent and hugged her mother. "How's the old man doing?"
"Fine, thanks to you and your quick thinking. The doctor
told Annie, he'll be home in a couple days, come and see
him."
"I will." Jack glanced back at Anne, and before she
could prepare herself, he hugged her. Granted it was
nothing more than one of those awkward pat-the-back deals,
but it still rattled her. Even though she'd stiffened up,
warm fuzzies hopped along her skin and she wanted to swat
at them and yell, stop it, stop it!
Well what do you know, he still uses Iris...