Love On Call

Table of Contents

Synopsis

Applause for L.L. Raand’s Midnight Hunters Series

Acclaim for Radclyffe’s Fiction

By Radclyffe

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

About the Author

Books Available From Bold Strokes Books

Synopsis

Some people work to pay the bills or send the kids to school or afford playtime. Ex-Army medic physician-assistant Glenn Archer works, as much as she possibly can, to atone for all the lost lives on her conscience. No matter how many patients she helps save at the Rivers Community Hospital, it will never be enough, but it helps her look at herself in the mirror in the morning. Mariana Mateo needs to make a new life, one without the daily reminders of all she’s lost and far away from the suffocating sympathies of her well-meaning family, and moving to a place as different as possible from the bustling LA she grew up in seems like a good idea. A cousin she hasn’t seen in twenty years is the only person who knows her in the tiny upstate New York farming community, and that’s just the way she wants it. When working side by side with Glenn Archer in the ER makes Mari remember what desire feels like, Mari determines to ignore the feelings, which isn’t all that difficult since Glenn is as unapproachable as the beautiful but remote mountains.

A Rivers Community Novel

Applause for L.L. Raand’s Midnight Hunters Series

The Midnight Hunt

RWA 2012 VCRW Laurel Wreath winner Blood Hunt

Night Hunt

The Lone Hunt

“Raand has built a complex world inhabited by werewolves, vampires, and other paranormal beings…Raand has given her readers a complex plot filled with wonderful characters as well as insight into the hierarchy of Sylvan’s pack and vampire clans. There are many plot twists and turns, as well as erotic sex scenes in this riveting novel that keep the pages flying until its satisfying conclusion.”—Just About Write

“Once again, I am amazed at the storytelling ability of L.L. Raand aka Radclyffe. In Blood Hunt, she mixes high levels of sheer eroticism that will leave you squirming in your seat with an impeccable multi-character storyline all streaming together to form one great read.”—Queer Magazine Online

“The Midnight Hunt has a gripping story to tell, and while there are also some truly erotic sex scenes, the story always takes precedence. This is a great read which is not easily put down nor easily forgotten.”—Just About Write

“Are you sick of the same old hetero vampire/werewolf story plastered in every bookstore and at every movie theater? Well, I’ve got the cure to your werewolf fever. The Midnight Hunt is first in, what I hope is, a long-running series of fantasy erotica for L.L. Raand (aka Radclyffe).”—Queer Magazine Online

“Any reader familiar with Radclyffe’s writing will recognize the author’s style within The Midnight Hunt, yet at the same time it is most definitely a new direction. The author delivers an excellent story here, one that is engrossing from the very beginning. Raand has pieced together an intricate world, and provided just enough details for the reader to become enmeshed in the new world. The action moves quickly throughout the book and it’s hard to put down.”—Three Dollar Bill Reviews

Acclaim for Radclyffe’s Fiction

In Prescription for Love “Radclyffe populates her small town with colorful characters, among the most memorable being Flann’s little sister, Margie, and Abby’s 15-year-old trans son, Blake…This romantic drama has plenty of heart and soul.”—Publishers Weekly

2013 RWA/New England Bean Pot award winner for contemporary romance Crossroads “will draw the reader in and make her heart ache, willing the two main characters to find love and a life together. It’s a story that lingers long after coming to ‘the end.’”—Lambda Literary

In 2012 RWA/FTHRW Lories and RWA HODRW Aspen Gold award winner Firestorm “Radclyffe brings another hot lesbian romance for her readers.”—The Lesbrary

Foreword Review Book of the Year finalist and IPPY silver medalist Trauma Alert “is hard to put down and it will sizzle in the reader’s hands. The characters are hot, the sex scenes explicit and explosive, and the book is moved along by an interesting plot with well drawn secondary characters. The real star of this show is the attraction between the two characters, both of whom resist and then fall head over heels.”—Lambda Literary Reviews

Lambda Literary Award Finalist Best Lesbian Romance 2010 features “stories [that] are diverse in tone, style, and subject, making for more variety than in many, similar anthologies…well written, each containing a satisfying, surprising twist. Best Lesbian Romance series editor Radclyffe has assembled a respectable crop of 17 authors for this year’s offering.”—Curve Magazine

2010 Prism award winner and ForeWord Review Book of the Year Award finalist Secrets in the Stone is “so powerfully [written] that the worlds of these three women shimmer between reality and dreams…A strong, must read novel that will linger in the minds of readers long after the last page is turned.”—Just About Write

In Benjamin Franklin Award finalist Desire by Starlight “Radclyffe writes romance with such heart and her down-to-earth characters not only come to life but leap off the page until you feel like you know them. What Jenna and Gard feel for each other is not only a spark but an inferno and, as a reader, you will be washed away in this tumultuous romance until you can do nothing but succumb to it.”—Queer Magazine Online

Lambda Literary Award winner Stolen Moments “is a collection of steamy stories about women who just couldn’t wait. It’s sex when desire overrides reason, and it’s incredibly hot!”—On Our Backs

Lambda Literary Award winner Distant Shores, Silent Thunder “weaves an intricate tapestry about passion and commitment between lovers. The story explores the fragile nature of trust and the sanctuary provided by loving relationships.”—Sapphic Reader

Lambda Literary Award Finalist Justice Served delivers a “crisply written, fast-paced story with twists and turns and keeps us guessing until the final explosive ending.”—Independent Gay Writer

Lambda Literary Award finalist Turn Back Time “is filled with wonderful love scenes, which are both tender and hot.”—MegaScene

Love on Call

Brought to you by

eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

Love on Call

© 2016 By Radclyffe. All Rights Reserved.

ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-844-3

This Electronic Book is published by

Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

P.O. Box 249

Valley Falls, New York 12185

First Edition: November 2016

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

Credits

Editors: Ruth Sternglantz and Stacia Seaman

Production Design: Stacia Seaman

Cover Design By Sheri (graphicartist2020@hotmail.com)

By Radclyffe

Romances

Innocent Hearts

Promising Hearts

Love’s Melody Lost

Love’s Tender Warriors

Tomorrow’s Promise

Love’s Masquerade

shadowland

Passion’s Bright Fury

Fated Love

Turn Back Time

When Dreams Tremble

The Lonely Hearts Club

Night Call

Secrets in the Stone

Desire by Starlight

Crossroads

Homestead

Against Doctor’s Orders

Prescription for Love

The Color of Love

Love on Call

Honor Series

Above All, Honor

Honor Bound

Love & Honor

Honor Guards

Honor Reclaimed

Honor Under Siege

Word of Honor

Code of Honor

Price of Honor

Justice Series

A Matter of Trust (prequel)

Shield of Justice

In Pursuit of Justice

Justice in the Shadows

Justice Served

Justice For All

The Provincetown Tales

Safe Harbor

Beyond the Breakwater

Distant Shores, Silent Thunder

Storms of Change

Winds of Fortune

Returning Tides

Sheltering Dunes

First Responders Novels

Trauma Alert

Firestorm

Oath of Honor

Taking Fire

Wild Shores

Short Fiction

Collected Stories by Radclyffe

Erotic Interludes: Change of Pace

Radical Encounters

Edited by Radclyffe:

Best Lesbian Romance 2009-2014

Stacia Seaman and Radclyffe, eds.

Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments

Erotic Interludes 3: Lessons in Love

Erotic Interludes 4: Extreme Passions

Erotic Interludes 5: Road Games

Romantic Interludes 1: Discovery

Romantic Interludes 2: Secrets

Breathless: Tales of Celebration

Women of the Dark Streets

Amore and More: Love Everafter

Myth & Magic: Queer Fairy Tales

By L.L. Raand

Midnight Hunters

The Midnight Hunt

Blood Hunt

Night Hunt

The Lone Hunt

The Magic Hunt

Shadow Hunt

Acknowledgments

A return to the Rivers series is like coming home to friends, family, and warm fires (or sunny afternoons, as the season dictates). The challenge of the familiar, in life as in fiction, is to embrace change as we preserve what keeps us strong. In the romance documentary Love Between the Covers, Jayne Krantz makes the point that readers find in romances the core values they aspire to emulate or experience in life, not “just” love and passion, but valor, loyalty, bravery, and heroism. What I love about writing and reading romances, whether stand-alones or a series romance, is the story of two people overcoming obstacles in their journey toward commitment within the context of a larger duty—to family, community, and the world we live in. Our romances tell powerful stories of individuals who risk all to live honest and meaningful lives. The Rivers community is one born of history, heritage, and inclusiveness. I hope you enjoy your time there.

Many thanks go to: senior editor Sandy Lowe for a partnership that keeps BSB running smoothly while I write, editor Ruth Sternglantz for never missing a beat, editor Stacia Seaman for her irreplaceable expertise, Sheri Halal for a perfect cover, and my first readers Paula, Eva, and Connie for encouragement and aid.

And as always, thanks to Lee for her indomitable spirit of adventure. Amo te.

Radclyffe, 2016

To Lee, for always answering

Chapter One

Glenn opened her eyes in the dark, not awakening so much as emerging from a void. She didn’t have to look at the clock to know it was two thirty. No matter what time she fell asleep, she always opened her eyes at two thirty. She didn’t dream, had taught herself not to. Sleep was a blank, an enforced respite from thought and memory. An absence of awareness wasn’t exactly restful, but her body required the recovery time in order for her to perform at peak efficiency, so she maintained a regular sleep schedule, even if the actual hours she slept were erratic. She turned on her side. Two thirty-seven.

Outside the open window, the night was silent. If she listened very hard she might hear some distant sound—a freight train chugging along the river, a coyote or two calling for the pack, a branch falling from the big pines that bordered the parking lot behind the empty store beneath her apartment. Not tonight, though. The night was as empty as her dreamless sleep had been.

Her cell phone emitted a series of staccato beeps, the closest approximation she’d been able to get to her field radio, the familiarity an odd comfort. She reached for it with a quick easing of the heaviness in her chest.

“Archer.”

“Hey, Glenn.” Cindy Ames’s soft voice was instantly recognizable. Cindy was the head night nurse in the ER, and she and Glenn had spent many hours working together over the last three years. “I’m really sorry to wake you up.”

“No problem. I was awake.”

Cindy laughed briefly. “If you were, I hope you’re doing something fun. But I’m in a jam and I know you’re not on call for surgery anymore, but—”

“That doesn’t matter.” Phone to her ear, Glenn slid naked from beneath the sheet and pulled scrub pants from the neat pile she’d left on the straight-backed wooden chair next to her bed. She’d planned to wear them her first day on the job as director of the physician assistant program in the morning. “What’s going on?”

“Flann’s in the OR with Pete doing a blocked A-V shunt, and I can’t reach Dr. Williams. He’s backup for surgery tonight. I’ve got a lady here whose foot looks really bad. I’d wait for Flann, but—”

“I’ll come over and take a look. Be there in ten minutes. Did you get X-rays?”

“Yeah, I did, and something is weird.”

“Okay, you know what to do until I get there.”

“You’re a savior,” Cindy said.

“Yeah,” Glenn said flatly as Cindy rang off.

A savior.

Nothing could be further from the truth. For an instant, the tally of the dead rolled through her mind along with the memory of acid smoke and the copper taste of blood and fear in her throat. Too many to count, too many without names. But the faces never faded even though she’d taught herself not to let them haunt her, just as she’d taught herself not to dream. But some things could never be erased, not when they were tattooed into your bone and chiseled onto your soul. The dead were as much a part of her as her beating heart.

But not tonight. Tonight she tended the living.

She scooped up her keys, wallet, and phone and let the screen door click shut behind her on her way out. She didn’t bother to lock up—there wasn’t anything inside worth stealing. Her footsteps on the wooden staircase spiraling down the back of the building to the parking lot followed her like so many ghosts. Her ragtop Wrangler was the only vehicle in the tiny lot behind the consignment shop and its neighbors on either side, the pizza place and an antique store. Ordinarily she’d walk the mile up the hill to the Rivers where it looked down over the town and the valley like a conscience reminding everyone that life was fleeting and fickle. But Cindy was an experienced nurse, and if something about this patient bothered her enough to call for help rather than wait the hour or two for Flann or the PA to be available, then she might not have the luxury of the fifteen-minute walk. Instead, she was pulling around to the staff lot in less than five.

The ER would be empty at this time of night, unless somewhere on a nearby highway a thrill-riding teenager had misjudged a curve or a farmer had another case of indigestion that wouldn’t let him breathe or a baby decided to exit the comfort and safety of the womb. But the only vehicles in the lot adjacent to the emergency entrance were those of the staff and an idling sheriff’s patrol car whose occupant was probably inside scoring a cup of almost-fresh coffee. When she pushed through the big double doors into the wide, tiled corridor leading past reception, the bright lights shocked every sense sharply online. Her head cleared of memories and misgivings, and her vision snapped into crystal focus. Somewhere around the corner an elevator door clanked open, a power floor polisher whirred, and someone laughed. In the empty waiting area, a weather map scrolled across the TV screen, tracking tornados in a part of the country she’d never visited and doubted she’d ever see.

Cindy looked up at the sound of footsteps, relief erasing the lines of tension above her bright blue eyes. She must have been in her early thirties, but her creamy complexion could’ve been that of a twenty-year-old. “I owe you.”

“You sure do,” Glenn said. “Half a dozen of those chocolate chip cookies—the ones with the nuts—ought to do it.”

Cindy laughed and pushed blond hair away from her face. A small diamond and accompanying gold band glinted on her left hand. “Then you’re in luck, because I promised the kids I’d bake tomorrow.”

“What have you got?” Glenn leaned an elbow on the high counter that sectioned off the work area from the rest of the ER. The whiteboard on the wall to her right was divided into rows, each with a number indicating the patient room and the names of those who occupied it. Only one was filled in, number seven. Down the left-hand side someone had printed the names of the doctors on call in black block letters. She scanned it, suppressing a grunt when she saw Williams next to surgery backup. He was notoriously unreliable, often taking hours to answer his pages and, even when he did, reluctant to come in. More often than not when she’d been taking first call in the ER and had a patient who needed to go to the OR, she’d call Flann. Flannery Rivers never complained about taking an emergency, whether she was technically on call or not. Williams would bitch and gripe if he had to get out of his warm bed in the upscale Saratoga suburb and drive down to take care of someone who might die if he didn’t come. On the other hand, he never complained if he happened to hear that an emergency had come through that Flann had handled instead of him, as if it was his due that other people make his life easier.

She let go of the pulse of anger. He was an ass and not worth her time. Since returning to civilian life, she’d mostly shed the reflex need to keep everyone around her on track and doing their jobs. All she could do was give every case her best. That would have to be enough. She told herself that a dozen times a day, and someday she might even believe it.

Glenn focused on the vital signs and brief history recorded on the ER intake sheet Cindy handed her.

“Naomi Purcell,” Cindy recapped as Glenn read. “Thirty-five years old and healthy. Married, three kids. They have a small herd of dairy cows down on Route 4 by the river. She came in with a fever and an infection in her left lower leg. It seems she got tangled up in some old barbed wire pulling a calf out of the brush this morning. Now her leg is red and hot and tender.”

“Is she diabetic?”

“No—not that she knows of. I sent off bloods and don’t have them back yet. But her temp is a hundred and three and the wound looks nasty. Swollen and draining.”

On the surface it sounded like a virulent cellulitis, but Cindy wouldn’t have called her for a straightforward infection. She’d have called one of the medical doctors for antibiotics and possible admission.

“What else?” Glenn asked.

Cindy shook her head, her eyes troubled. “She just looks really sick, Glenn—a lot sicker than something like a fairly superficial trauma should account for. And there’s a lot of swelling. I was afraid something might’ve gotten in there that she didn’t realize, some kind of foreign body, so I sent her to X-ray.”

“You know,” Glenn said, impressed as always by Cindy’s clinical sense, “there’s an opening in the rotation for first-year PAs. You might consider—”

“No way. I’m done with school, even if I do have an in with the new program director.”

The title still felt like a too-tight shoe, and Glenn shrugged aside thoughts of her new job. “Where are the X-rays?”

“I put them on a box outside her room.”

“Okay, I’ll check her out. Let me know as soon as you get her labs back.”

“I’ll call now.” Just as Cindy reached for the phone, the red triage phone rang. Cindy gave a little shrug and picked that one up instead. “ACH—go ahead.”

Glenn walked down to cubicle seven and announced herself as she pulled the curtain aside. “Ms. Purcell? I’m Glenn Archer, one of the surgical PAs.”

Naomi Purcell sat propped up on several pillows, her eyes fever bright in a pale white face. Lank strands of medium brown hair framed her face. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her chest beneath the shapeless cotton hospital gown fluttered with quick, shallow breaths. A tall, husky man in a faded T-shirt hanging over the top of baggy blue jeans stood to the left side of the bed, his hand on her shoulder and terror in his eyes.

“She seems to be getting sicker really fast, Doc,” he said in a low, tight voice.

“I’m fine, Todd.” Naomi Purcell’s voice was wispy and faint but she mustered a smile. “My leg feels like a nest of fire ants are having a picnic on it, though.”

“Let me take a look.” Glenn snapped on gloves and drew back the sheet, expecting to see the angry laceration Cindy had noted on the chart along with the bright red sheen of a superficial infection surrounding it. All the expected signs of infection were there, but nothing about Naomi Purcell’s leg was typical. An irregular inch-long gash just above her left ankle gaped open, and a thin milky fluid oozed from its edges, slowly trickling down onto the sheet. Her foot was swollen to twice its size, the skin thin and tight as if trying to prevent the flesh and fluid beneath from bursting out and close to losing the battle. She checked for the dorsal pulse and couldn’t find it. “Can you feel me touch you?”

“Yes, a little. My toes are numb, though.”

“Do they feel cold?”

“No. More like they’re just not there.”

The inflammation extended up her calf following the path of lymphatic drainage, spidery fingers spreading toxins and whatever bacteria had invaded the deeper tissues. Glenn felt for the artery behind Naomi’s knee and found the rapid beat that signaled Naomi’s system was working hard to combat the infection. “This might hurt a little bit.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Naomi said, as if Glenn had anything else to worry about.

Right now, Naomi Purcell was the only thing that mattered in her life. She gently probed at a distance from the laceration, and a faint crackle, like air popping in the plastic bubble things they wrapped around packages that come in the mail, crinkled beneath her fingertips. Her belly tightened and she straightened up. “I want to check your X-rays. I’ll be right back.”

“She should get some antibiotics, right, Doc?” Naomi’s husband Todd said.

“Yes, and we’ll get on that in just a minute.”

His eyes followed her out of the room. Eyes that said, Don’t leave us. Help us. Eyes she’d seen hundreds of times before. Three X-rays hung on the light box next to the curtained cubicle. The bones of the lower leg stood out like bleached driftwood, balloon-shaped shadows marking the surrounding muscles and fat. And there in the depths of the tissue, clear streaks like icing in a layer cake extended from the edges of the laceration. Air where there shouldn’t be any. She found Cindy drinking a cup of coffee and making notes in a stack of charts in the tiny staff lounge. “We need to start her on antibiotics—I’ll get cultures and call Flann.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It’s necrotizing fasciitis, and she needs to go to the OR, right now. I should call Williams, but Flann’s upstairs—”

“God, don’t call Williams. If you do, she’ll be sitting down here until after he’s had his morning coffee.”

“You did good calling me.”

“I knew you’d come. You always do.”

Of course she did, what else would she be doing. She scribbled an order for an antibiotic cocktail and called up to the OR. Dave Pearson, an OR tech, answered. “Hey, Dave, it’s Glenn. Can you patch me into Flann’s room?”

“Sure, hold on. You got something?”

“Yeah—do you have another team?”

“We can put something together if it can’t wait until Flann is done.”

“Let’s see what she says.”

A second later the line buzzed and a woman answered. “OR seven.”

“Fay, it’s Glenn Archer. Can Flann talk?”

“Hold on a second…Flann, it’s Glenn. Can you talk?”

“Glenn?” Flann said. “What are you doing? I thought you’d moved on to greener pastures.”

“Not until seven a.m. I’m down in the ER. Cindy called me. There’s a thirty-five-year-old woman here with necrotizing fasciitis of her left lower extremity. Right now it’s in the midcalf, but the wound is less than twenty-four hours old, and she looks toxic. She needs to come up.”

“Damn it,” Flann muttered. “We’ve got another half an hour before we can test the shunt. Pete can close after that. If they can set up another room, you can get started.”

“Dave says they can. I’ll get her upstairs.”

“You started her on bug killers?”

“As we speak.”

“Let me know as soon as she’s asleep, and I’ll put my head in if I’m not free yet.”

“Okay, no problem.”

Husband and wife fixed Glenn with anxious gazes as soon as she stepped through the curtain. “You’ve got an infection in your leg, you know that. The X-rays show air inside your tissues where it shouldn’t be. That indicates a certain kind of infection from strains of bacteria that can be harder to treat than the ordinary kind. It’s probably caused by whatever was on the old wire that you got tangled up in.”

“But you can treat it, right? With the antibiotics?” Todd’s voice was an octave higher than it had been and his face had gone from ruddy to gray. He swayed just a little.

“Sit down right there, Mr. Purcell, and I’ll finish telling you what we’re going to do.” Glenn pointed to the plastic chair next to the bed and Todd Purcell dropped into it with a thud.

Todd repeated, “You can treat it—”

“Todd,” Naomi said with gentle firmness, “let the doctor talk.”

Glenn didn’t bother correcting them. Almost everyone she took care of in the ER called her Doc. Everyone in Iraq had too. “We are going to treat you with antibiotics, and Cindy, the nurse you met earlier, will be starting them any minute. But that’s not going to be enough. We need to take you up to the operating room—”

Naomi’s husband gave a little groan. Glenn walked closer to the bed and gripped his shoulder, her gaze still fixed on Naomi, who held hers unwaveringly.

“You’re not going to have to amputate my leg, are you?” Naomi Purcell asked.

“No. We’re going to make an incision and wash out the deeper tissues to help stop the spread of infection. We might have to make several four-or five-inch incisions, but they’ll heal. You’ll have some scars, but it’s early yet, and chances are good your leg will be fine except for that.”

“All right,” Naomi said instantly. “When?”

“Right now. As soon as we can get the antibiotic started, we’ll take you upstairs to the OR.”

“Are you sure you have to do this?” her husband asked, looking like a frightened deer trapped in a thicket of briars.

“I’m sure. I talked to Dr. Rivers about it, and she—”

“Harper Rivers?”

“No, Flannery.”

“Harper takes care of our kids,” he said, some of the color coming back to his face. “Her sister—that’s the surgeon, right?”

“That’s right. She’ll be in charge upstairs.”

“But you’ll be with her, right?” Naomi said.

“Yeah, I will be,” Glenn said, thinking this would probably be her last case with Flannery Rivers.

Chapter Two

Mari had never lived anywhere without bus service. She’d never lived anywhere without malls and movie theaters and takeout. When she was thirteen, she’d gone to one of the big agricultural centers in LA County on a school-sponsored trip, but the miles and miles of row after row of green things had seemed foreign and boring at the time. Looking back, it had probably only been a few hundred acres of lettuce, but she’d been happy to get back to the concrete and city smells she’d grown up with. No buses meant driving, which she could do but had rarely needed to undertake back home when everything was a stop away on the subway, light rail, or bus. Who would drive in the insanity if they didn’t need to?

When she’d arrived at the Albany Airport lugging everything she planned to start a new life with in two suitcases and a taped-up carton of books, she’d rented a car and, following a printout from Google Maps, driven on increasingly narrow, twisting roads through countryside vaguely reminiscent of the fields and green valleys beyond the sprawl of Los Angeles. The farms she passed here, though, were so much smaller and the land so much hillier and the air so much cleaner. Maybe the East Coast seemed so alien because she’d never known anything other than LA. She’d rarely spent much time outside the city, because why would she? Everything that had seemed important growing up was there in the teeming streets—entertainment, shopping, school. Her parents almost never took a vacation—her father was always working in the store, her mother often joining him during the welcome busy stretches, and on the rare times when they weren’t both busy, there was always something going on with one or the other of Mari’s siblings. With barely a year and a half between them all, the after-school sports, clubs, and social events were a never-ending cycle that repeated year after year. Dances and finals and sports practice occupied everyone’s time, and when her mother was too busy with the younger ones, the older ones—the girls at least—stood in for her. Mari’s life had been the family, and she’d never imagined it any differently until everything had changed.

She’d dropped the rental off at the nearest return site as soon as she’d unloaded her belongings and the household essentials she’d picked up at a Target before leaving the city. She couldn’t afford to lease or buy a car, and so she would walk. She didn’t mind walking and it wasn’t very far from her studio apartment to the hospital. Or to anywhere else in the little village, either. Everything she needed in terms of food and necessities she could get at the grocery store she’d discovered just at the opposite end of town, its parking lot filled with pickup trucks and Subarus. She’d wondered on her first exploration of the village four days before if people drove anything else at all. Since then she’d found a surprisingly big pharmacy at the intersection of Main Street and the county road that ran through the center of town, a diner, a bakery that also served decent coffee and beyond-describable muffins and pastries, a pizza place, and a number of other shops. She could survive without a car, and walking felt good. Using her body felt good, and even after a week, her muscles seemed stronger.

And she’d better get her butt in gear now with just over an hour before she needed to start her new job. Her stomach squirmed with nerves. This wasn’t at all how she’d imagined her first day as a newly minted physician assistant. The silence of her tiny apartment reminded her every minute of all the voices that weren’t there, encouraging her, teasing her, quietly supporting her. Now there was only the voice in her own head telling her she could do this. She’d done much harder things. And she wanted to do it, needed to do it. Work gave her a reason to get out of bed in the morning, that and her stubborn refusal to be defeated.

She showered in the miniscule pocket bathroom, barely able to dry off without bumping her hip on the corner of the sink. She blow-dried her hair, thankful again for the natural waves that required little more than a decent cut to look acceptably stylish, and put on the minimum of makeup to cover the smudges beneath her eyes. Sleep was sporadic still, and she hadn’t quite gotten over the jet lag. She’d never been very good at traveling on the few occasions she’d visited her father’s distant relatives in Mexico or interviewed for PA-training positions. She always missed her pillow. The one she’d slept with forever, it seemed, shaped to her arms and the curve of her cheek.

She smiled at her weary image in the mirror and admitted what she really missed. The smell of coffee floating up from the kitchen in the morning along with her mother’s voice reminding Joseph of some errand he had to do after work or calling to Raymond to get out of bed before he missed the bus or singing snatches of some old song as she fixed breakfast and packed lunches. Even with four of the kids gone, the house had still felt full with her and the two boys and Selena still living at home. The house always felt full of life.

Her tiny apartment was neat and airy and sunny, but oddly sterile, as if the silence scoured it clean. Getting to work and occupying her mind was exactly what she needed to remember she was damn lucky to be able to complain about anything—including a nice, clean, quiet place to live and a job she’d wanted all her life. Self-pity was an unbecoming pastime, and she needed to be done with it.

Feeling better for the mental scolding, she dressed in tan pants, brown flats, and a dark green cotton polo shirt, gathered the necessities into her favorite buttery soft leather shoulder bag, the one Selena had given her for Christmas two years before, and made sure to lock the door on the way out. The hospital was at the other end of town up a hill, a twenty-minute walk from the short street a few blocks off Main where she’d found an apartment in what had once been a grand mansion but was now carved up into small odd-shaped apartments. Hers was on the second floor in the back, overlooking a plain fenced yard shaded in one corner by a big tree she thought was a maple, but wasn’t sure. No one seemed to use the yard, although someone cut the grass.

Traffic was heavier than she expected at a little after six, mostly those pickup trucks again, almost all filled with men and carrying logos on the side saying floor repair, general contractor, plumbing, or some other trade. The café was open, and she treated herself to a scone and a cup of very good espresso and still approached the hospital twenty-five minutes before she needed to be there. The hospital was the only building on the wooded hillside, and as she passed through the stone pillars flanking the entrance to the winding, crushed-gravel road and climbed past tall cast-iron lampposts and taller pines, she felt as if she was walking back in time.

At the top of the approach road, Mari stopped. She’d only had glimpses of the hospital through the trees that surrounded it on her walks through the village, although she’d been aware of its presence, perched above the fray like a watchful bird. It even looked a little like a bird, with its wings stretching out to either side. She’d seen pictures of it online and even found an old historical society talk about it that someone had posted along with photos, some of them decades old. She tried to imagine, looking at the faded sepia images of young women in long dresses with white aprons and frilly caps, and stern-faced men in high-collared white shirts and tailored coats with narrow lapels and high-waisted pants, what it had been like practicing medicine before the modern era had brought such astounding progress and devastating commercialization. Before the days of vast medical consortia and insurance companies and all of the other agencies that had crowded in and relegated so many of the hospitals like this to memory.

This hospital was undergoing a major transition, adding an Emergency Medicine residency program and joining with the regional medical school’s PA training program. She was about to become one of the faculty of that new program. A year ago she thought she’d never have the chance to treat a single patient, and now this. Everything had happened so quickly. A job and a new life.

No one had congratulated her and no one had tried to stop her from leaving. Of course, in so many ways, she’d already been gone.

A siren wailed, drowning out her thoughts, and she jumped onto the green grassy shoulder well to the side of the curving road as an EMS van rolled around a corner and swept past. Perhaps whoever rode inside would be her first patient. Fifteen minutes from now, she’d know.

From the turnaround in front of the hospital, she took one more second to appreciate the soaring majesty of her new home—as she somehow thought of it. A fountain centered the grassy expanse in the middle of the circular drive, clear water draped in rainbows gushing into a scalloped cast-iron basin from beneath the feet of a life-sized metal sculpture of a woman with a child by her side, their hands clasped together. The hospital itself was anchored by the central structure, a brick edifice six stories high, ornate white columns surrounding the broad entrance, and wings extending from either side like arms clasping the forested hills towering behind it. She turned and looked at the village down below, dappled in sunlight and shrouded by tree branches—seeming so peaceful, as if nothing could ever disturb its tranquility. She knew she was only wishing such a place existed, a foolish wish. The past could not be undone or relived. Harsh words could only be forgiven and someday, she hoped, forgotten.

And none of that mattered now. She turned back to the hospital and took a deep breath of the cleanest air she thought she’d ever experienced. So fresh her lungs actually tingled. Smiling at the thought, she followed the drive in the direction she’d seen the ambulance take and found the emergency room entrance without any trouble. At six forty-five in the morning, it was already busy. Several people stood in line at reception, waiting to sign in with the woman sitting at the counter. A line of gurneys waited along the wall on either side of big double doors that stood open at the entrance to the treatment area. An orderly pushed a woman in a wheelchair around a corner, and an elevator dinged. The murmur of voices drew her down a short hall to the nurses’ station. She stopped by the desk and waited until a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair wearing khaki pants and a camo scrub shirt adorned with Snoopy looked up at her and smiled.

“Can I help you? Are you here with one of the patients?” he asked in a surprising lilting tenor.

She held out her hand. “No, I am Mari Mateo. A new PA. I was wondering—”

“Oh, right. That’s today—welcome. Glenn’s not here, but come with me.”

Mari hesitated as he swept around from behind the counter. “If you could just point me to the conference room—”

“I’m Bruce Endie—one of the nurses. This way,” he said over his shoulder as he hurried along. Mari followed down the hall and around the corner before he disappeared completely.

He stopped in front of an open door, rapped quickly, and said, “Dr. Remy. New troops.”

Mari halted abruptly beside him and glanced into a small office where a woman sat behind the desk. She felt her face color when she recognized the head of the ER. They’d only talked via Skype, but Dr. Remy wasn’t someone she would easily forget. “Oh, Dr. Remy! I’m really sorry. I think I was supposed to be in the conference room.”

The blonde with the emerald green eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and warm smile motioned her in. “That’s okay. Mari, isn’t it? Call me Abby. Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” Mari sat in one of the two chairs in front of the ER chief’s desk. “I’m afraid I’m early.”

Abby grinned. “You’ll never hear complaints about that. I’m sorry Glenn isn’t here to—”

“Am I late?” a low, smooth voice inquired from the direction of the open door.

“Not at all,” Abby said. “This is Mari Mateo, our new PA. Glenn Archer is our program director, Mari.”

Mari turned in her seat, her gaze falling on a slightly taller than average woman with shaggy dusky blond hair, a lean face with slate-blue eyes, and a wide sensuous mouth above a square chin with a shadow of a cleft. The expression in those intense eyes was appraising and cautious. No quick smile and friendly welcome here. Not unfriendly, just remote.

“Good to meet you,” Glenn said in a slow, sensuous drawl. A smile flickered and was gone.

“Glenn will take care of getting you settled,” Abby said.

Mari rose, wondering just how settled she’d be when just the slow sweep of Glenn Archer’s gaze over her face made her pulse quicken.

Chapter Three

Glenn strode silently down the hall toward the main area of the ER with the new PA keeping pace. Why the hell had she let Abigail Remy talk her into giving up her position as Flann Rivers’s surgical first assistant to head up this new training program? Abby hadn’t even had to work hard to convince her. It hadn’t been flattery, she wasn’t susceptible to that. Sure, Abby had said she’d needed her, needed someone with experience who was used to leading a team to be sure the PA training program got off the ground and running without any hitches. The new cooperative programs between ACH and the area medical centers were vital to keeping the hospital healthy. The ER, hell, the whole hospital had been in trouble not long before, and there’d been talk of the place being bought out and closed. Everyone thought Presley Worth, the new CEO, had come here to do exactly that. Maybe she had. But not now. Presley, medical staff president Edward Rivers, and every member of the staff were united in turning the place around. So how could she have said no—when had she ever said no when she believed in something and duty called? She’d been happy working as Flann’s second, satisfied with her solo responsibilities. Comfortable. Safe. Hell. She knew what the problem was. She didn’t want to be a team leader, didn’t want to be responsible for success or failure. Didn’t want to be anyone’s go-to. Not again. But she’d signed up for it, hadn’t she? Reenlisted just as automatically as she had the last two times. So here she was, the PA director, with a new staff PA, and she still hadn’t said anything more to Mari Mateo than “Come on, I’ll show you where your locker is.”

Glenn stopped so abruptly Mari took a step past her, then turned back and stared at her with a question in her eyes.

“You drink coffee, don’t you?” Glenn said.

Surprise registered in the deepest, darkest, richest brown eyes Glenn had ever seen. Streaks of gold splintered through the chocolate, making Glenn think of sunrise over the desert, of the piercing shock of unexpected splendor in a desolate landscape. A smile rode the sunrise, cresting on Mari’s wide, full rosy lips, and Mari went from pleasantly attractive to knockout beautiful in a millisecond.

“No, I don’t think much of coffee.”

Still caught in the storm of sudden beauty, Glenn wordlessly shot a raised eyebrow. She frantically tried to envision getting through morning report without coffee. Some people drank tea, sure. On occasion she had done that herself. But coffee was tradition, and for most medical people as precious as blood. But she could deal with a tea drinker. Somehow. “Oh. Okay. Well, uh, then…how about—”

“On the other hand,” Mari smoothly went on, an amused glint in her eyes, “I particularly enjoy an espresso—especially when it’s made from a good Mexican bean.”

Glenn narrowed her eyes. “Espresso.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“That was cruel. I was imagining teabags at six a.m.”

Mari laughed. “Hardly a toxic substance. Although I didn’t realize how sensitive you were.”

Glenn grinned. “Let’s grab some coffee, and I’ll give you a rundown of the day-to-day.”

Mari frowned and glanced in the direction of the ER proper. “What about the patients? Shouldn’t we be checking on them?”

“Yeah, we should.” Glenn nodded, impressed and pleased. “And we will. But I checked the whiteboard on my way through just now, and there’s nothing urgent that needs our attention. I’ve got my radio—” She winced and patted her pants pocket. Even after years out of uniform she couldn’t get used to not having a radio and being patched into com central. “Phone. I’ve got my phone. They’ll text us if anything critical comes in. Otherwise, we’re waiting on some labs on the patients who came in before change of shift. Everyone at intake looked like walking wounded. So we’re okay for a few minutes.”

Mari cocked her head. “All that from a quick glance at the whiteboard?”

“And a fast sit rep from Bruce.”

“Oh, I met him. Is he ex-military too?”

Glenn stilled. “Sorry?”

“You are, aren’t you? Ex-military? You remind me a lot of my training instructor. He was a Navy corpsman, not this time around—Vietnam. But it’s more than just the lingo, it’s everything—the way he…you…process information, the quick-look rapid-fire assessment and fast decisions. That must be something that never leaves. He sounded a lot like you.”

Ice trickled down Glenn’s back, and she suppressed a shudder. A lot of things never left. Habits, instincts, reflexes. Memories. The overwhelming need to act. Quickly, while there’s still time. Before something else, someone else, gets you first. She took a slow breath. “You’re very observant.”

“Sorry, just guessing.” Mari regretted her offhand comments. Whatever she’d said had triggered a response she hadn’t intended. The carefully guarded personal space and profound reserve Glenn had initially projected right after they’d left Abigail Remy’s office had begun to thaw as they’d talked. Now the wall was back again, a clear bulletproof barrier that left Glenn visible but untouchable. Mari regretted having hurt her somehow, for the warmth she’d felt just minutes before had been swallowed by a darkness that could only be pain. Hoping to coax some of the heat back into Glenn’s expression, Mari extended an olive branch. “I could use a cup of coffee. And I would like to hear about the program.”

“Even cafeteria brew?”

Mari shuddered but nodded gamely. “Bring it on.”

“Sure, if you’re willing to chance it.” Glenn laughed, the deep chuckle a momentary breeze that blew the storm clouds from her eyes, lifted Mari’s spirits. Glenn was off again in that fluid, loping gait, and Mari hurried after her.

Trying to keep a mental map of where they were going, Mari concentrated on memorizing the series of turns and staircases before they came to a pretty typical hospital cafeteria—bustling with people moving through the coffee line, grabbing food from the racks and hot trays, and clustering at round tables filling a long rectangular room. She winced at the dark brown liquid that came from the industrial urn as she filled her cup and contemplated adding cream just to dilute the acid content but didn’t see any reason to start bad habits. She’d had plenty of bad coffee in her life. Plucking a decent-looking raspberry Danish from a tray, she paid and followed Glenn to one of the smaller tables on the far side of the room. She slowed and stared, coffee and Danish in hand. Windows. Big windows taking up half the height of the wall, and oh, the view.

Glenn sat and broke a bagel in half. “Something wrong?”

“I’ve never seen anything like this. I guess I’ve gotten used to being closed up inside the hospital. I mean, there were always windows, but there was nothing much to see outside them. Parking lots and other buildings. So you just sort of stopped looking, you know? As if the world outside was gone. But here—just look! There are honest-to-God flowers out there. Everywhere. And not a car in sight.”

“The architects were smart when they added the lots—they’re below the crest of the hill, so you still have the effect of being above it all up here. You should see it in spring. The rhododendrons and azaleas are blinding. It’s even nice when it snows. The windows in the ORs face the mountains, so it’s pretty spectacular.”

“Oh my God. You have windows in the OR suites? How do you work?”

“It’s nice.” Glenn’s expression grew distant. “Nice, but strange, to look up from the table and see the world out there. It kind of reminds you that this person you’re working on is still connected to people and places beyond the spotlights and the machines and the instruments. Humanizes it all somehow.”

“You really like the OR, it sounds like.” Mari sat down across from her.

“I like doing.”

“Me too, but the surgery rotation was my least favorite part of training.”

“Why is that?”

“Too removed. I like talking to people, listening to them, finding out what’s wrong by putting the pieces together. I’d miss the connection, I guess.”

“I suppose it might seem remote,” Glenn mused, “but I don’t think you can be any more connected than touching another person. Surgery’s intimate, as personal as it gets.”

Glenn’s gaze flickered, like a page turning, and Mari knew instantly her thoughts had fled elsewhere again. She desperately wanted to know where Glenn went when memories—or something more than memories—pulled her away. What did she see, what power held her in its grip? When Glenn’s gaze refocused on her, Mari knew she’d returned. Pretending she hadn’t noticed the brief lapse, Mari said quietly, “I can’t argue that touching is uniquely intimate.”

“Different strokes,” Glenn said casually.

Subject closed, but Mari wasn’t ready to give up. “You were the regular first assist for Dr. Rivers in the OR?”

“I was pretty much her first assist for everything—I didn’t work with anyone else on a regular basis. I saw patients in the ER when she couldn’t, made rounds, took call, did cases with her.”

“Like a partner.”

“I suppose.” Glenn sighed. “Yeah, pretty much. Flann let me do what I could do.”

“This sounds like my kind of place.”

“You’ll have a lot of independence in the ER—if we get approval for level two trauma, we’ll double our census.”

“Is that likely?”

Glenn laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the new CEO pushed for level one. We’re ten minutes by air from a major interstate with no other major hospitals around.”

“I’m looking forward to the challenge.”

“Where did you train?”

“USC in LA.”

“Big place,” Glenn said.

“Oh yes. Four hundred beds, level one trauma, Children’s Hospital next door, advanced training programs in everything. Very big place.”

“Cog in a wheel?”

“Maybe a little, but great training.” Mari smiled, remembering how easy it was to get lost in the system. “How about you?”

“Uncle Sam,” Glenn said abruptly. “So what did you do when you finished—before here?”

Mari had known this question would come up and hadn’t practiced how she was going to answer. She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed or overly private about personal matters, but still, she hadn’t wanted to drag the past with her to this new life. Of course, this was one thing that would never be the past. For now, though, partial truths would suffice. “I didn’t—do anything, that is. I had a job lined up, but that fell through.”

“How did you find out about us?”

The question was natural enough but alarm bells rang. All Mari wanted was to fit in, to have a place where she could work and be herself and not catch sidelong glances of curiosity or concern or condemnation.

“My previous program director contacted me. He’d heard about the new program and the openings here.” Truth. Mari could still hear his cautious tone, his careful question as to whether she was ready to go to work. The opportunity had seemed heaven-sent, and the interview she’d had on Skype the next day had almost been a dream. She’d been so anxious for her long-distance face-to-face with the ER chief, she’d checked and double-checked her computer to make sure she could connect and was sitting in front of a blank monitor ten minutes before the appointed hour. Abigail Remy had been friendly and straightforward. She’d also said Max Gardner had talked to her personally and told her Mari was one of the best graduates he’d had in years. After twenty minutes, Mari had a job. She left all that out when she recounted the story to Glenn. “I guess you were busy that day. We didn’t get a chance to talk.”

“Abby hadn’t convinced me to take the job yet.” Glenn studied her. “So you’re new at this.”

Mari tried not to bristle. “Not exactly. I’ve had plenty of hands-on experience. Our program was very intensive, one of the best.”

“I don’t doubt it. We put on a big push to fill our instructor slots with good clinicians, and Dr. Remy wouldn’t have taken anyone who wasn’t the best. But there’s a difference between boot camp and boots on the ground.”

“I assure you, my boots are ready.”

Glenn laughed again, such a rare sound it was as surprising as it was pleasing. She nodded and glanced at the coffee, untouched in front of Mari. “You ought to try it. Start getting indoctrinated.”

Mari sighed and sipped. She tried another swallow. “Huh. It’s quite good.”

“That’s Flann’s doing. She got them to upgrade the brand of coffee and change out the urns every couple of hours. One of the perks of a small place like this. You won’t be a cog in a wheel here.”

“I’m glad.” Maybe this place would be the community she’d lost. “I think I’ll like—”

“Hey, Archer. Seven ten and you’re still lounging over coffee. No wonder you jumped ship.”

Mari stared up at the woman in navy scrubs and a wrinkled, shapeless green cover gown, rather like a giant cloak, standing beside the table. A surgical mask dangled around her neck and her disheveled mop of dark hair still showed the imprint of a surgical cap. Her face was all edges and long lines, attractive, Mari supposed, if you liked the dark, edgy type. She preferred Glenn’s cooler, classic contours…and stopped herself before that thought went any further. Glenn was very good-looking, and the swift changes that came over her face—from light to dark, cool to warm—along with the fleeting hints at whatever she kept so close were fascinating. Mari had never looked at a woman and thought fascinating in her life, which ought to be caution enough. Glenn had secrets, just as she had, that was all. She felt a flush rise in her neck when she realized the newcomer was studying her with unapologetic frankness. She lifted her chin, refusing to be embarrassed by the scrutiny.

“Actually,” Glenn said with that faint hint of a drawl, “we’re in the midst of orientation.”

“Ah. Fresh boots?” Grinning, the woman held her free hand out to Mari and sipped from the cup of coffee she held in the other. “Flannery Rivers. Welcome aboard.”

Mari smiled and took her hand. The long fingers that closed over hers were firm and smooth and certain. “Mari Mateo, and my boots are already well broken in.”

“Good to hear. Glenn will probably need all the help she can get.”

“Thanks,” Glenn said good-naturedly. “How’s the patient from last night?”

“Just saw her. Temp’s down and the leg looks good. Nice work.”

“Thanks,” Glenn said quietly.

Flann pulled a chair over from an adjacent table and settled in between Mari and Glenn at their small table. “How many more recruits do you have coming?”

“One more new staff and four students.”

Flann laughed. “It’ll be a hell of a day down there.”

“We’ll handle it.” Glenn smiled. “Dr. Remy has put together an amazing program in an incredibly short time.”

“You helped,” Flann said.

“I followed orders,” Glenn said.

“Well, Abby is very efficient when she wants something done.” Flann glanced at Mari. “Dr. Remy managed to seduce Glenn away from the OR in record time.” She shook her head. “First she takes my job, then she takes my right hand. It’s a damn good thing I love her.”

“Um…” Mari was at a complete loss and sent a helpless look in Glenn’s direction.

Glenn laughed. “Dr. Rivers is chief of surgery, Mari, and for a while she wore another hat—heading up the ER too. Until Dr. Remy came along.”

Flann sighed. “Yeah. Then Abby decided that Glenn belonged in the ER full-time, and she took her too.”

“It seems that Dr. Remy has very good judgment,” Mari said.

Flann grinned. “She has to, she’s going to marry me.”

“Oh.” Mari laughed. Flannery Rivers might like to tease, but her fondness for Glenn was obvious, and the way her eyes sparkled every time she said Abigail Remy’s name told exactly how she felt about her. Flann reminded her a little bit of her oldest brother Hector, always high on life, playful and charming, when he wasn’t being downright annoying. A swift shock of sadness and unexpected longing shot through her. She caught her breath and forced a smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I’m hoping Glenn gets bored fast and comes back where she belongs.” Flann stood. “But in the meantime, good luck.” Her voice had gone from teasing to sincere, and the warmth with which she looked at Glenn gave Mari some idea of the depth of the friendship between the two. She was glad. Glenn seemed so very alone.

“Don’t get into too much trouble without me,” Glenn said.

Flann squeezed Glenn’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t think of it. Don’t forget to tell Mari and the rest of your new boots about the barbecue.”

“Right,” Glenn said, pulling her phone from her pocket as Flann walked off. She glanced down and then at Mari. “Incoming. You ready to go to work?”

Mari stood. “You have no idea.”

Chapter Four

Mari raced at Glenn’s side, threading between the tables on the way to the nearest exit. Most people barely gave them a glance, used to seeing staff race off to an emergency. Glenn didn’t return the way they’d come, and Mari was quickly lost and didn’t bother trying to follow their route. She just focused on keeping up with Glenn as they jogged around corners, through a fire door, and down a concrete stairwell lit by bare bulbs in metal cages.

“You run?” Glenn asked, not the least bit breathless.

“I did,” Mari said, trying valiantly to sound as unstressed as Glenn. Her heart pounded against her ribs, but her wind was holding. Her legs were nearing jelly status, but then, she hadn’t used them much in the last half a year or so. They couldn’t have that much farther to go, could they? “I’m a little bit out of training just lately.”

“You move like a runner.”

Mari was oddly pleased by the comment but barely had time to appreciate it before Glenn pushed through another unmarked gray metal door and delivered them into the center of a tornado. A blast of disorienting noise and a flurry of rushing people sent a surge of panic racing through her. Nothing looked familiar—what was she supposed to do? After a second, Mari’s pulse calmed and she made sense of the controlled chaos in the hallway. She’d seen this before. ER staff pushed gurneys toward the ambulance bay to await the injured, pulled back the curtains on examination cubicles, and opened equipment packs. Lights came on in a big room Mari barely had a chance to glance into as she hurried by, but even a quick look was enough to tell her it was a pretty fully staffed operating room.

“What have we got?” Glenn called to Bruce, the nurse Mari recognized from earlier.

“EMS is five minutes out. Grain silo collapse.”

Glenn’s face set into grim lines. “How many?”

Bruce shook his head. “We’re not entirely sure. First report was three, then another unit called in and they’re bringing two, and we think there might be more. Could be upward of ten.” He grimaced. “Apparently a couple of people went in to try to help and ended up getting trapped themselves.”

“How many people do we have down here?”

“Never enough for this kind of thing,” Abigail Remy said, emerging from the reception area wearing scrubs and a white coat, her expression intense and hyperfocused. “Bruce, call up to the SICU and see if they can spare us a couple of nurses. Then get the respiratory techs down here—every one we have in-house. You’ll be triage.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bruce said, practically saluting. He spun on his heel and strode away.

Abby turned to Glenn and Mari. “Glenn, I want you to take the criticals, anyone that looks like they need immediate surgical intervention, get them into the trauma bay stat. I’ll call Flann and alert the OR to put a room on standby.”

“Roger.” Glenn leaned toward Mari and lowered her voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Mari said. “I’m good.”

She was. Her heart galloped with the adrenaline rush, but she wasn’t nervous and she wasn’t afraid. She also wasn’t alone, and she knew it. If she got something she couldn’t handle, she’d have backup. Glenn was here, looking solid and sure, as if she’d seen and done this kind of thing a hundred times before—because she had. Dr. Remy too. But most of all, Mari trusted her training.

“Good,” Glenn said. “You’ll take anyone who isn’t actively hemorrhaging or in full arrest. Use room one.”

“Okay—you better tell me about grain silos. What can I expect?”

Glenn’s gray-blue eyes darkened to nearly black. “Don’t see much of that in LA?”

“Try never.”

“Depends on what was in the silo, but usually corn or wheat, which generates heat, toxic gases, and a hell of a lot of dust. When the structure collapses or the contents avalanche inside, whoever’s buried will suffocate in seconds or be crushed, but they can also get sucked into the augers and mixers—meaning broken or severed limbs.” She spread her hands. “If it takes more than a minute to extract the ones who are completely submerged, their lungs will be full of dust and even if we intubate, it’s not going to be enough.”

“So blood gases on everyone,” Mari said, trying to formulate a treatment plan on the fly. This was nothing like a multi-vehicle pileup on the interstate, but the principles were always the same. “What else? Injury-wise?”

“Compression syndromes, fractured ribs, open and closed extremity type injuries. The fractures can all wait unless there’s vascular compromise.”

“Right. Airway will be the thing.”

Glenn nodded. “If you need an assist, holler. I’ll be right across the hall.”

Bruce appeared around the corner. “The first bus is here.”

Abby strode confidently into the center of the waiting staff. “All right, everyone, you know what to do. Let’s go to work.”

Mari took a deep breath and hurried into her room, quickly scanning the instruments set out beside the exam table. She pulled on gloves just as a stream of first responders burst into the ER pushing stretchers toward the rooms where Bruce had directed them. Two EMTs angled a stretcher into Mari’s cubicle with a small form nearly dwarfed by oxygen tanks, an EKG monitor, and IV bags. All Mari could make out beneath the tape and O2 bag was a blue-tinged face and a shock of yellow hair.

A heavyset redhead at the front of the stretcher croaked hoarsely, “Juvenile, maybe ten years old, buried in three feet of dust—” He lost his voice for a second, then continued, voice steadier although agony misted his eyes. “The family had already dug him out, and the dad was doing mouth-to-mouth. We intubated in the field.”

“Pulse ox?”

“60.”

Mari’s stomach plummeted. 60 was barely compatible with life and not enough to sustain brain function. She quickly listened to the boy’s small chest and could hear no air moving in the lower two-thirds of his lungs. Thankfully she detected a rapid heartbeat, but that wouldn’t last long if they couldn’t ventilate him. “On a hundred percent O2?”

“That’s what’s running, but it doesn’t seem to be doing much good.”

Mari glanced at Beverly, a middle-aged brunette nurse who’d arrived to help. Her mouth set into a tight line, and Mari didn’t have to ask why. If they did nothing, this child was dead. But no matter what she did, it probably wouldn’t make a difference. Still, her job was to fight, as long as reasonable, and fight she would.

“All right,” Mari said, hoping she sounded confident, since she hadn’t actually heard of what she planned to do being used for anything like this. Although she hadn’t heard of this until ten minutes ago. “Let’s set up a saline lavage, get another pedi tube ready.” She looked up at the two EMTs. “What size do you have in there?”

“Six,” replied the second EMT, a thin young blonde with a silver hoop through the corner of her left eyebrow.

“Who intubated him?”

“I did,” the blonde said.

“Did you see debris in his trachea?”

“I didn’t see anything. It was a blind intubation.”

“All right then, let’s see what we can see.” She ought to clear this treatment with someone before she went much further. “Beverly, can you get Dr. Remy or Glenn for me?”

“Not for a few minutes,” Beverly said. “I saw them both at a resuscitation on my way in here.”

“We don’t have a few minutes,” Mari muttered.

“Let’s not waste any time, then,” Beverly said briskly, as if telling her to do what she needed to do. She stood by with suction and a small-bore catheter connected to a saline bag under pressure.

“Time me.” Mari took a deep breath and slid out the breathing tube, removing the only thing keeping the boy breathing—and alive. She didn’t have long, but then, neither did he. She slid in her laryngoscope and lifted his chin, giving herself a narrow tunnel down which to evaluate his airway. The thin light at the end of the instrument illuminated the back of his throat and the upper part of his trachea. Where she should have seen glistening pink mucosa she saw only thick clumps of dark debris. It looked as if someone had poured concrete into his windpipe. No wonder he couldn’t breathe.

“Let me have the lavage catheter.”

Beverly slid the thin tube into Mari’s hand and she threaded it down into the debris and hopefully into his trachea. “Go ahead, open up the bag and get the suction ready.” Fluid shot into his trachea, completely blocking what remained of his airway. If this didn’t work, he’d drown. The saline mixed with the dust from the grain silo, threatening to glue shut any possible avenues for airflow, and Mari frantically suctioned before the mixture turned into paste.

“Time?”

“Thirty seconds,” Beverly said.

“Another fifteen seconds,” Mari said, the muscles in her shoulders starting to ache.

The curtain twitched back and Abby Remy looked in. “What’s the story?”

“Foreign material in the airway. Some kind of thick, particulate matter—dust, I guess,” Mari said without looking up. “He was tubed on arrival, but not oxygenating. We’re lavaging to clear the trachea and mainstem.”

Abby threaded her way between the EMTs, who hadn’t budged, to the head of the table and looked over Mari’s shoulder. “Lift the laryngoscope a little bit more so I can get a better view.”

Mari took a deep breath and lifted. Now her arm was beginning to shake. Keeping the jaw open and the airway exposed was strenuous, and she hadn’t intubated anyone in almost a year.

“How long on the lavage?” Abby asked.

“Forty-five seconds.”

“O2 sat?” Abby called out.

“58,” the male EMT reported.

Mari’s stomach plummeted. She was going to lose this boy.

“Keep going. You’ve almost got it,” Abby said quietly, her sure, certain tone injecting much-needed strength into Mari’s aching arm. “You want me to take over?”

“No,” Mari said just a bit breathlessly. “He’s almost clear.”

“There you go,” Abby said with a note of victory. “The suction fluid is coming back clear.”

Mari finally breathed. “Turn off the saline and let me have the new ET tube.”

“Here you go. A pedi six,” Beverly said and slipped the curved plastic endotracheal tube into Mari’s outstretched hand.

Never moving her gaze from the small dime-sized opening that led down into the boy’s trachea, Mari slid the tube between his vocal cords and toward his lungs. “Hook us up?”

The ventilator began to hiss, and Mari slid out the laryngoscope and stepped back.

Abby listened to his chest with her stethoscope, nodding as she quickly moved the diaphragm over his chest. “Breath sounds are good. Pulse ox?”

“65,” Beverly said.

“Increase the rate to twenty and decrease the volume. Let’s rapid pulse him.”

The pulmonary tech adjusted the ventilator, and the machine cycled quickly in short, sharp bursts as if it was panting.

“Suction him down the tube, Mari,” Abby murmured.

Quickly, Mari complied, barely able to take her eyes off the pulse oximeter, hardly breathing herself as the numbers began to edge up. 68, 72, 75, 80, 85, 90.

“Holy Jesus,” the big burly EMT muttered. “You got him back.”

“Let’s get a chest X-ray,” Mari said, tempering her elation. A million things could go wrong, and if he’d been without cerebral perfusion for too long, she might not have saved him after all. Now only time would tell if he would recover. She had to be sure he didn’t have other injuries that could complicate his recovery, and then they would wait.

Abby said, “Draw a full panel of bloods and get him up to the intensive care unit.” Abby squeezed Mari’s shoulder. “Very nice, Ms. Mateo.”

“Thank you.”

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. Beverly drew bloods from the IV line and the two EMTs, who appeared to have no intention of leaving their charge, pushed the stretcher out into the hall. Another stretcher materialized in her cubicle, this one with a young man whose right arm was misshapen and bloodied.

“Hi, I’m Mari Mateo, a PA,” she said, and got back to work.

*

Mari had no idea how much time had passed by the time the last patient left her cubicle for an observation room upstairs. It might’ve been ten minutes, it might’ve been ten hours. All she knew was she’d never felt so exhilarated in her life. She’d splinted fractured limbs, inserted a chest tube under local anesthesia, and treated an acute case of asthma with inhalation agents and intravenous medications, avoiding a dangerous intubation. She’d evaluated more complex cases in one day than she had in a month of training, and she’d managed mostly on her own. She’d been dimly aware of the seething activity around her as she’d worked—once she’d heard the high-pitched wail of someone’s heart breaking, and a moment later Glenn’s low-pitched, melodious cadence calling for a cutdown tray. Dr. Remy popped in and out of her room, checking patient status, reviewing a treatment plan, offering suggestions.

As soon as the transport orderly took her patient, a forty-five-year-old fireman with an impending MI, to the medical intensive care unit and no one brought another patient to replace him, she sagged into the hard plastic visitor’s chair against the wall of her treatment room and stared at the litter-strewn floor. An errant glove someone had tossed toward the trash can and missed, an IV tube dangling from a metal stand, the saline slowly dripping into a clear puddle, bandage wrappers, a plastic cap from a syringe. A war zone.

“How’d you do?” Glenn asked from the doorway.

Mari glanced over at her. “Okay, I think. I didn’t lose anyone.”

“That’s a good first day, then.” Glenn grinned and checked her watch. “Of course, you’ve still got another eleven hours to go.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. It’s just a little bit after 0830.”

“Oh my God.” Mari blew a strand of hair from her eyes. “Is it over? Did we win?”

Glenn’s eyes clouded. “Mostly. Two fatalities, both submersion casualties—a twenty-year-old farmhand, first day on the job, and the thirteen-year-old daughter of the farm owner.”

“Damn,” Mari whispered, sadness blunting the thrill of victory she’d experienced just moments before.

“But I hear you saved her brother—smart thinking. A gutsy call.”

Mari shrugged. “Probably more beginner’s luck.”

“I don’t believe in luck—unless it’s bad.”

At the sudden dark tone in Glenn’s voice, Mari took a hard look at her. Her skin was pale beneath her tan, her face drawn and tired. She’d had the critical patients and had probably been involved with the fatalities. “Are you all right?”

“Me? Sure. Fine.” Glenn shrugged and her usual mantle of calm control fell back into place. “Come on, I’ll show you where the locker room is. You can get clean scrubs and shower if you need to.”

Following Glenn’s pointed gaze, Mari looked down at herself and realized that a spray of blood from one of the IVs she’d started had left a crimson crescent across her chest. Another splotch of blood marred her thigh. She couldn’t see patients the rest of the day like this.

“You’re right. I need to get cleaned up.”

“You probably ought to have something to eat. This kind of thing burns off a lot of energy, and you don’t want to crash later.”

“I’m not eating anything until…” Mari made a face and indicated her blood-soaked scrubs.

“I’ll grab something for you while you shower. Cereal is always a good quick fix.”

Mari grimaced. “How about a bagel.”

“I can always dig up a bagel. Cream cheese?”

“Peanut butter. More protein.”

Glenn grinned. “You got it.”

The women’s locker room occupied the opposite end of the ER from Dr. Remy’s office. Glenn tapped a locker with a small metal tag stamped with the number 37. “This is yours. You’ll need to bring a lock from home, but truthfully, no one is going to take anything.”

“I don’t really have much to take. A five-dollar bill is all the money I brought with me.” Mari shook her head. “I should’ve thought to bring a change of scrubs.”

“Don’t worry about that. The hospital provides. Towels are in the shower room.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Glenn hesitated for a second. “And you’re right, you’re not all that green.”

Mari smiled to herself as Glenn disappeared, leaving her alone. She chose the farthest of the three shower stalls, found the clean stack of white towels, and grabbed two. She left her clothes in a pile on a narrow bench outside the stall and stepped into the hot water. She kept her hair dry as she slowly turned in the strong jet, reveling as the heat soaked into her muscles and eased away the tension and stress. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes and emptied her mind.

“Hey, you need anything?” Glenn’s voice called from somewhere nearby.

Mari’s eyes snapped open. She thought she might actually have been asleep.

“No. Thanks. I’ll be right out.” She quickly turned off the water and stretched an arm outside, feeling around blindly for the bench where she’d left the towel. Only then did she realize she couldn’t reach it without stepping out. “Um…do you think you could hand me the towel?”

For a long moment, she thought Glenn had left.

“Sure,” Glenn said at last.

Suddenly shy and having no idea why she should be, Mari curled the curtain back but kept it covering her body. Glenn stood three feet away, one arm extended, the white towel dangling from her hand, her face averted.

Mari took the towel. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Glenn said in a slow, soft, impossibly sultry voice. Slowly, Glenn looked in her direction.

Mari could’ve ducked back into the shower, but why should she? She certainly wasn’t ashamed of her body, and she wasn’t bothered by Glenn seeing her. Besides, she was pretty much completely covered by the very not-sexy shower curtain. “I’ll be right out.”

“Got your bagel out here.” Glenn turned away.

“Glenn?”

Glenn spun back around. “Yes?”

“I forgot to get scrubs.”

“They’re in the other room.”

“I was afraid of that.” Mari wanted to laugh, but Glenn’s expression was so intense, so serious, so focused on her.

“Smalls?” Glenn asked, making the word sound ridiculously personal.

“Medium. I like them roomy.”

Glenn gave a little bow. “At your service.”

Mari finally laughed. “I don’t usually require this much service.”

“I don’t mind.”

Mari let the curtain fall closed, holding the towel between her breasts. Nothing had happened. But she felt as if it had.

Chapter Five

Abby ought to be celebrating, but she couldn’t shake the bittersweet taste of flawed victory from her mind. Her ER staff had earned high marks for their handling of their first mass casualty alert. Everything had gone well, by the book. But by-the-book success didn’t make her feel any better when she’d had to tell the parents of a thirteen-year-old girl that she hadn’t been able to save their child. Telling a family member they’d lost a loved one was never easy, no matter the age of the patient. Everyone always thought the death of an older individual was easier to accept, but it wasn’t. Everyone was important to someone—loved and cherished and depended upon. Everyone, she’d come to learn, was woven into the fabric of life in some way, even those who seemed to be most disenfranchised. She could still remember the day a homeless person, one of the favorites of just about everyone at the otherwise big impersonal city hospital, had died in his sleep on the corner by the main entrance, wrapped in his many layers of clothing and surrounded by his tattered grocery store bags filled with what remained of his earthly possessions. Everyone mourned, perhaps more than would have mourned the loss of someone known to far fewer people. Perhaps more than anyone would mourn for any of them. Benny the Bagman. She smiled sadly at the memory.

Flannery Rivers tapped on Abby’s open door and strolled in.

“Hey,” Abby said softly. Just the sight of her lifted Abby’s spirits.

“Hey yourself, Dr. Remy.” Flann turned, eased the door closed behind her, and came around behind the desk. She crouched, cupped Abby’s cheek, and kissed her.

“Flann,” Abby murmured. “Not appropriate behavior for the work environment.”

“Hey, this used to be my office. It’s seen worse.”

Abby laughed and some of the pall lifted from her heart. “I actually believe you, and I’m very glad to know that your new office is about the size of a telephone booth and not very private.”

“Why would I want to have sex in a telephone booth when we have that spacious eight-by-ten bedroom at home with a sixteen-year-old sleeping in the loft?”

“Oh, come on. It’s at least ten by twelve.” Abby sighed, aware their courtship was far from typical—they hadn’t had much chance to bask in the insanity of falling in love when she had a teenager to raise. A particularly vulnerable teenager at that. She couldn’t be more in love or more ecstatic, but she still wished she could be as free as her friend Presley seemed to be in her new love life. For all appearances, Presley Worth and Harper Rivers spent every spare second enjoying one another. Abby didn’t want Flann to miss a second of that kind of pleasure. “I know, I’m sorry. It is crowded.”

Flann ran her thumb along the curve of Abby’s jaw. “It’s perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing—well, I’d like a bigger bedroom with a slightly more substantial door on it.”

The light in Flann’s eyes telegraphed exactly what she was thinking about. Abby blushed.

“Really, Abs?” Flann murmured. “After what we did just last night, you’re blushing at the mere suggestion of carnal pleasure?”

“Stop,” Abby whispered, struggling not to touch her. “I can’t be thinking about that right now.”

“Funny, I can hardly stop thinking about it.” Flann traced a finger along her jaw. “Besides, we won’t be there much longer.”

“God, I hope this contractor turns out to be someone we can work with. I really want to get the new place renovated so we can move in before winter.”

“Baby,” Flann murmured, “winter comes early in these parts.”

Abby’s eyes took on that fierce light Flann had come to recognize as absolute determination. “The first snowfall is five months away. That’s plenty of time to get us two working bathrooms and a decent kitchen.”

“And a roof that doesn’t leak and some modicum of heating,” Flann added.

“You said one of those pellet stoves would heat the whole place.”

“Probably. I said probably.”

Abby tapped Flann’s chest with a fingertip. “We paid cash so we could get our family moved in as soon as possible. And that does not mean next year. I want to have our own private bedroom.”

“I’m sure Blake would like a bedroom too.”

Abby laughed. “I think he only mentions it once a day.”

Flann’s heart gave a little jog at the words our family. She had her own family to look after now, and she hoped to God she was anywhere near as good at it as her mother and father were. “I take it the excitement is over down here. Sorry I missed the fun. How did it go?”

“Good,” Abby said quickly. “Good. Everyone held steady and did their part. We admitted five, streeted three, and didn’t have to transfer anyone.”

“Good for you.” Flann rose and settled her hip onto the corner of the desk, playing with a strand of Abby’s golden hair. She loved the color, like sunshine on a wheat field, and the texture, soft and silky as the strands of fresh young corn. “So what did I see in your eyes when I walked in? Some kind of trouble.”

“I hope you’re the only one that can read me that well,” Abby muttered.

“I better be.”

Abby caught Flann’s hand and kissed her palm. “Believe me, you’re the first to do it and the only one who is ever going to see inside me.”

“What happened?”

“We lost a teenage girl, just a couple years younger than Blake. It was horrible. She suffocated in the silo.”

“Damn,” Flann murmured. “Every couple years something like that happens around here. Who was it?”

“A farm family up the Hudson a ways. Hoffertin. The girl’s name was Annie.”

“I knew a Jim Hoffertin, used to be a quarterback for Granville High. About four years older than me, I think. I know his family had a farm.”

“That’s the father.”

“Man, that’s hard.”

“It’s worse, I think, because the girl went in after her brother when the silage funnel collapsed and they managed to get him out but not her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I.”

“But the brother made it?”

“He did, at least we think so. He’s still on a blower and probably will be for at least twenty-four hours, but his vital signs are good and preliminary EEG shows pretty normal activity. We were lucky—our PA started to lavage him right away and cleared his lungs enough to ventilate him.”

“Nice. Pretty sweet trick for the ER.”

Abby smiled. “Eventually you’ll learn to respect what we can do down here.”

Flann spread her hands. “Hey, I’m not arguing. The more you do, the more time I have to take care of the real emergencies.”

Abby snorted. “God, I don’t know why I love you as much as I do. You’re such an arrogant ass sometimes.”

Flann leaned down and kissed her. “It’s because I’m so good in bed.”

“That must be it, because it’s certainly true.”

“Replay tonight since neither one of us is on call?”

“Tonight, sometime. I think Blake and Margie need a ride to some event at the fairgrounds, and we’ll probably have to pick them up.”

“Not one of the music festivals, is it?” Flann frowned. “Those crowds are rough and there’s alcohol and every other thing around.”

Abby smiled. “Take it easy there, cowboy. You know those two aren’t going to get into that kind of thing—they have good judgment, but even so, I’m not that naïve. It’s a rodeo.”

“Huh. Slightly better. Okay. Sex between chauffeur trips, then.”

“It’s a date, Dr. Rivers.”

Flann rose. “I’ll be thinking about you the rest of the afternoon. Text me when you’re ready to leave, and I’ll see if I can get away. We’ll grab dinner somewhere.”

“I’ll do my best. We’ve got new students today and a couple of new staff and it’s already been a hell of a morning.”

“Hey, you wanted to run the ER. It takes a unique level of skill and—”

“Go before your head doesn’t fit through the door.” Abby made shooing motions.

Laughing, loving to tease and loving that Abby let her, she headed down the hall and nearly ran into the other member of her family. He’d grown two inches since that morning, and she was pretty sure his voice was lower. He was still skinny as a beanpole in an oversized T-shirt and baggy shorts, though. “Whoa. Hey, Blake. What are you doing here?”

Blake shoved a thick lock of dark hair off his forehead, a habitual motion when he was nervous. He had his mother’s intense eyes. “I just wanted to talk to Mom for a few minutes. Is she busy?”

“You’ll have to check with her, but I think she’s still free. Everything all right?”

“Yeah, sure. Great.”

Flann was getting used to teenage speak, since her sister Margie was just about Blake’s age and about as communicative. When Margie’d been a little girl, you couldn’t shut her up. Why this, how that, what are you doing? Now she was usually lost in a book or off with Blake or doing other things that were clearly unexplainable, because when asked, her usual response was nothing special, not much, whatever, and really with several exclamation points. Flann hadn’t been a teenager for a decade plus some, but she did remember when she’d reached the monosyllabic stage, she’d mostly been thinking about sex. She didn’t really want to think about her sister Margie and sex, or Blake for that matter, and especially not the two of them and sex together. Her head hurt all of a sudden, but now she was a parent. “You can talk about it, you know, whatever…it is…you know?”

Blake stared at her. He’d only ever talked to his mother about things that really mattered, the things that scared him, and that probably scared her too. And then Flann had come along and his mother had fallen in love with her and he’d pretty much fallen in love with her too. Not the same way, for sure, but he couldn’t think about the future now without seeing Flann and his mother and him all together. Still, it was hard to trust someone who hadn’t been there his whole life, especially with things that nobody seemed to understand. Not even his mom sometimes. “Yeah. I know. It’s not that.”

Flann grinned. “Well, if it ever is…that—one of us, me or your mom, we’ll probably know something about whatever that is.”

“Yeah. Maybe. Sure.”

Flann resisted the urge to tousle his hair, but she really wanted to. He was so sweet, although she’d never say so. Teenage boys weren’t sweet, not in their minds. But he was. He was good and kind and sensitive. She deeply, deeply feared he was going to get his ass kicked more than once, more than most teenagers. She didn’t want that to happen. Wouldn’t let it happen if she could help it. She squeezed his shoulder. “I gotta get back to work. I’ll see you at home tonight.”

“Right.”

Flann turned away, and Blake called to her. “Hey, Flann?”

Flann looked over her shoulder, one dark eyebrow raised.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Blake peeked into his mother’s office. She was sitting behind her desk, her head tilted back, her eyes closed. He wasn’t sure if he should interrupt or not but she knew he was there, she always did.

“Come on in,” she said, eyes still closed. “Is there blood?”

“No, no injuries.”

“Good.” Abby opened her eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought you and Margie were going on rounds with the vet.”

“I was going to, and then I thought I’d come talk to you instead.”

“Okay. Is something wrong?” She had a horrible thought. “Please, please don’t tell me you want to move back to the city, because that is so impossible.”

“No way,” Blake said dismissively. “I don’t ever want to move from here. But Margie and I were talking.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Come on, Mom,” Blake said in his long-suffering tone.

Abby laughed. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I know the two of you never come up with anything together except brilliant ideas. So what is it?”

“We decided that we need to get as much clinical experience as we can, before we get our formal training and set up practice together.”

“Meaning?” Abby said, wondering if either of them would ever go through with their teenage dream to become vets, return to the community, and set up a practice together. She’d wanted to be a doctor as long as she could remember, and she’d never wavered, but many teenagers their age changed their minds about the future along with their hairstyles. Add to that the fact Margie had never had much experience outside her hometown and Blake’s big city exposure hadn’t been exactly great—they both had a lot of the world left to see. “So did you change your game plan?”

“No, but we thought we should get some human experience as well as, you know, animal.”

“I see. Humans not being animals.”

“You know what I mean, Mom.”

“It’s a good idea. A lot of techniques in human medicine are applicable to veterinary medicine, and believe it or not, there’s actually some crossover the other way around. What were the two of you thinking?”

“That we’d split the summer,” he went on quickly. “I’d start here and Margie would start with Dr. Valentine, and then we’d switch.”

“Doing what?”

“Well,” Blake said slowly, “that’s kind of where I thought you could help. Like…I don’t know—whatever you need us to do, volunteering, I mean.” He grimaced. “And I don’t mean standing around greeting visitors.”

“Honey, this isn’t Home Depot. We don’t have greeters.”

“That’s good.”

“Give me a minute.” Abby sorted facts. They were both sixteen, or Blake would be in a few days. Legally they could do volunteer work at the hospital. Unpaid, but that was only fair, considering they were also completely unskilled. They were both bright, mature, and sensitive kids. “We could use a volunteer in the ER, and I bet Flann could use one in the OR.”

“Really?” Blake’s heart skyrocketed. “That would be incredible.”

“Do you have any idea what that would be like?” Abby said gently. “Those are two of the most challenging areas of the hospital. The patients we see are often very sick or seriously injured, even dying. It wouldn’t be easy, and it might be scary.”

“You do it every day. So does Flann.”

“I know, and it never gets any easier.” Abby tried not to think of the Hoffertins and the still, pale body of the beautiful young girl on the cold stainless steel table, her mother and father broken in grief. “And it’s still hard on us too.”

“I think we can do it, both of us. Please, Mom. We could help.”

“It would be mostly scut—taking things to the lab, helping the nurses change sheets and clean rooms, that kind of thing.”

“That’s okay. We’d still see things, learn things.”

“I’ll have to talk to Presley and Harper and make sure they’re all right with it. And clear it with Flann too, but I’m sure she would love another body up in the OR to help out.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Blake just about vibrated while managing to stay in one place. “I’m gonna call Margie and let her know.”

“Tell her it’s not a done deal,” Abby called after him.

“Got it.”

She smiled as his footsteps disappeared down the hall. In a few short months, he’d transformed, not just physically as he transitioned, but emotionally and psychologically. He was happy now. His happiness filled her with joy.

And his life wasn’t the only one that had changed. She thought of Flann and the night ahead. Still smiling, she speed-dialed a number and waited. “Glenn? Let’s get the newbies into the conference room and bring them all up to speed.”

Chapter Six

Mari slumped on the narrow bench across from her locker and tried to summon the energy to pull out her purse and drag her weary body down the hill, through town, and back to her apartment. Twenty more minutes of movement seemed like an eternity. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so tired. She could, actually, but then she hadn’t been just tired, she’d been drained of everything: energy, will, even hope. Not now, though. This was an altogether different form of exhaustion. This was the aftermath of a campaign waged and won. Beneath the nagging ache in the small of her back, the twinge of pain in her calves, and the faint harbinger of a headache throbbing at the base of her skull, she felt anything but hopeless. She hadn’t worked so hard in over a year, and she’d been so busy all day, she hadn’t been able to think of anything except the patients, their families, and her obligations. When she wasn’t treating one of them, or discussing a case with Abby or Jason Monroe, the other ER doc, she was supervising one of the new students. And somewhere in the midst of all of that, she’d had to meet with Glenn to review the curriculum, only to discover she had a lecture to give the next morning at seven a.m. She looked at her watch. In exactly twelve hours.

Mari closed her eyes and groaned.

“How are you doing?” Glenn said from somewhere so close behind her, Mari jumped. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you.”

“No,” Mari said, springing up on suddenly shaky legs. She caught herself with an outstretched arm on the lockers. “You didn’t. I was just…thinking.”

Glenn frowned. “You look a little whupped.”

“Long day.” Mari opened her locker, fished out her bag, and slung it over her shoulder. She smiled brightly—at least she hoped she looked perkier than she felt. She wasn’t sick, she knew the difference, but she didn’t want any questions about her doing the job. “Good day, though. I think I’m still on West Coast time.”

“Uh-huh.” Glenn leaned her shoulder against the bank of lockers. Mari was trying to pretend she wasn’t almost out on her feet, and she wouldn’t embarrass her by telling her the act wasn’t working. She appreciated pride, and guts. It had been a good day, different than what she was used to, but surprisingly satisfying. If she wasn’t used to eighteen-hour days she’d be beat herself. After the chaos of the mass casualty alert first thing in the morning, four bright-eyed and eager PA students had arrived on their doorstep, greener than green, and they had a full board backed up of routine patients to see. Some of them had already been waiting several hours. Glenn had planned a full morning of orientation talks and tours for the students, but patients came first. The newbies didn’t seem to mind. Their first clinical rotation and Glenn had to sort them out on the fly, get them assigned to a senior supervisor, make sure they understood the chain of command, and keep an eye on them all day. Overseeing new troops in the field whose entire orientation included little more than an exchange of names wasn’t anything new, and at least under the current circumstances, they weren’t likely to get themselves blown up if they made a mistake. But the potential was there, figuratively if not literally, for them to FUBAR a trusting civilian, and that was unacceptable. So Glenn spent the whole day with eyes on the students even though each had their own assigned supervisor.

Mari had taken to the ER as if she’d been working there forever. Glenn clued in pretty quickly that she was a natural with patients, got along well with the nurses, and didn’t ask for help unless she needed it—and knew when she did. Glenn hadn’t spent valuable time watching Mari, and if she had, she might have noticed sooner the deepening shadows under her eyes. Her mistake—one she wouldn’t repeat.

“Things went pretty well today,” Glenn said. “You’ve got a knack with the students.”

Mari smiled. “Thanks. They seem like a pretty good bunch.”

Glenn unlocked her locker, stuffed her wallet into her back pocket, and locked up again. “So far.”

“You have any worries?” Mari looked around to make sure they were alone. “I didn’t notice any obvious problems.”

Glenn shrugged. “No, not really. The usual pecking order—at the top is Antonelli, who’s overconfident and cocky, and then there’s Marcus on the bottom rung, uncertain and deferential. They’ll need watching for different reasons. Baker and Hernandez are the middlemen, both solid, not flashy but they get the job done.”

“Antonelli has something to prove,” Mari said softly, thinking the big, dark-haired, movie-star-handsome man’s attitude reminded her a little of Glenn. Although Glenn lacked the arrogance—she didn’t need it. Her skill was all the swagger required to cement her place at the top of the hierarchy. “That might come from him being older than the rest. And his military service is a plus, even if it makes him a little hardheaded.”

Glenn laughed. “He’s got decent experience, it’s true. Maybe a little too used to going it alone. Sometimes experience gets in the way.”

“Double-edged sword.”

“Many-edged sword,” Glenn murmured. “At any rate, no clear and present danger among the group.”

“I agree.” Mari hitched her shoulder bag a little higher. “Well, I need to get home if I’m going to put together that talk for tomorrow morning.”

“I’ve got a PowerPoint, if you want it, that would cover most of it. It hasn’t been updated in a while, but it shouldn’t take long to add a few pertinent slides. Place to start.”

“I’ll take it,” Mari said instantly and pulled out her phone. “If you give me your number, I’ll text you my email address right now. This is great.”

Glenn hesitated. Flann and the hospital operators were the only ones who had it. Even Carrie didn’t have it, and they often shared rides to and from events. Come to think of it, Carrie had never asked and she’d never thought to offer. “Right. Sure.”

Mari tapped away, and a few seconds later, Glenn’s phone buzzed. She checked the text and saw an email address. “Got it.”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Mari started for the door. “I’ll be home in twenty minutes, so send it over whenever you think of it.”

“You walking?” Glenn asked. Sunset wasn’t for another hour, and even if it had been dark, Mari would be fine walking home alone. Still, unease gnawed at the part of Glenn’s psyche that couldn’t stop assessing, surveilling, hunting for hidden dangers. For the secret killers.

Mari nodded. “How did you know?”

“Because you can drive anywhere in town in ten minutes or less, and if you’re not living in town, you’ve probably got at least a half-hour drive.”

“Excellent deductive reasoning.” Mari laughed. “I’m on Elm. No car, but it’s a nice walk.”

“Wait until it snows.”

“Huh. I’ve never lived where it snows.”

“Hoo-boy.” Glenn grinned. “I didn’t notice you taking a lunch break. Dinner either, now that I think of it.”

“I didn’t even notice I was hungry.” Mari laughed. “I’m starting to now, though.”

Glenn knew for a fact Mari hadn’t taken a break of any kind all day. Maybe that was why she looked like a twenty-minute walk would wipe her out. Glenn hadn’t been planning to leave, wasn’t in any hurry to get home with nothing much to do, but she sensed Mari was working hard to cover up her fatigue. Surprising herself, Glenn said, “Me too. How about I walk down with you, and we get something to eat?”

Mari raised a brow. “Are you by any chance offering to cook, because a, I don’t think I have anything except cereal; b, I don’t really have a full kitchen; and c, I’m too famished to wait for very long.”

“That’s a thought that never passes my mind.” Glenn held the locker room door open as Mari passed by. She smelled like the vanilla soap stocked in the shower room. Nice and clean. Her hair looked as soft as black velvet. “I’m afraid my main food group is pizza.”

“That’s an easy one, then,” Mari said as they walked out into a hot, heavy July night. The air was nearly tangible, thick with the promise of rain. Odd, the air for all its weight was nothing like the blanket of toxic smog that sometimes hung over LA. “Where is the best?”

“Bottoms Up, the bar at your end of town, makes a good one, if you want a cold beer to go with it. I’m pretty partial to Clark’s, but that might be because it’s ten steps from my door.”

Mari laughed. “I’ll take the closest.”

“My place for dinner, then,” Glenn said.

“All right, yes.” Mari drew a deep breath and some of her weariness dropped away. Glenn’s shoulder touched hers every few steps as they made their way down the winding road, and that was nice too. They didn’t speak and she didn’t mind. Glenn seemed content just to walk, and she was happy for the company, even though it was unexpected. She hadn’t shared a meal with anyone in months, outside family, and then rarely. She hadn’t been to a movie or out to dinner or even had a decent conversation with another soul. She wasn’t looking for that connection now either. She’d learned not to lean on anyone once she’d gotten to a place where she didn’t have to. She would never owe anyone anything again, never put herself in a position to be unable to fight back, out of obligation or guilt, but still, Glenn’s rock-sure presence in the gathering dark was welcome, even in the silence.

*

“This is without question the best pizza I’ve ever tasted.” Mari slid a third piece of loaded veggie onto her plastic-coated paper plate.

Glenn smiled, enjoying Mari’s pleasure and the unself-conscious way she attacked her food. “I’m not gonna argue that.”

“I have a terrible feeling this might become my favorite dinner spot.”

“Why terrible?”

Mari laughed. “I might need more exercise than walking a mile up the hill to work every day if I do this every night.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Glenn said. “You’ll do plenty of running in the ER, and besides…I can’t see as you have anything to worry about, a few pounds more or not.”

Mari felt herself blushing. The compliment was probably not even intentional, just the kind of thing everyone said under those circumstances, but she liked the idea that Glenn had noticed. And wasn’t that odd. She hadn’t even thought about anything remotely intimate in so long she’d forgotten that was even a possibility. “Thanks.”

Glenn tilted her head, a small line forming between her brows. “You’re welcome, for whatever.”

As she’d thought, Glenn hadn’t meant anything personal by the comment. Mari hid her momentary consternation by glancing around the small storefront pizza parlor. The ovens were in the rear, with half a dozen tables and two standing counters dividing the room, and big plate-glass windows on either side of the door. She was surprised to see the place was packed on a Wednesday night. She and Glenn had snagged one of the few remaining tables when they’d arrived, and now they were all full, mostly with teenagers, but here and there a family or lone adult occupied a spot. The front door opened and another gaggle of teens came in, rushing to the counter and talking all at once. A boy and girl came in a second later and drew up to the rear of the crowd.

Glenn glanced over and instantly her whole demeanor changed, so subtly Mari might not have noticed if she hadn’t been watching her for the last half hour. Glenn’s expression blanked into remote, tight lines. Her eyes narrowed and scanned the entire room before settling on the teens in front of the counter, her shoulders coiled with tension. Mari followed her gaze, trying to see what had caught her focus so intensely, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. A couple of kids jostled a couple of the other ones, comments flew back and forth too quickly to sort out, but Glenn must’ve heard something Mari didn’t. Suddenly Glenn pushed her paper plate away and slid her chair back several inches. Her body flexed as if she was about to launch from the chair.

“What is it?” Mari asked.

“Probably nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Glenn said, her flat tone clearly at odds with her words.

When a dark-haired boy and a pretty girl with long, gold-streaked curls edged away from the crowd and claimed a suddenly vacant table, Glenn walked over, leaned down, and murmured something to them Mari couldn’t hear. The kids were a cute couple, fresh-faced and wholesome, terms Mari didn’t usually think about when looking at teenagers. The girl wore no makeup and had the slightly gangly, long-limbed build that heralded an elegant beauty in a few years. She was dressed simply in a red tank top and skinny jeans. The boy’s refined good looks could have put him in contention for a modeling job in a fashion magazine, but he seemed unaware of his appeal in his loose T-shirt, baggy shorts, and typical slumped, teenage-boy posture she’d seen on her brothers.

The boy shook his head. The girl just shrugged and gave Glenn a wry smile.

Whatever they’d said didn’t seem to defuse Glenn’s hypervigilant mood. When she turned and took a step toward the group at the counter, the blonde grasped Glenn’s wrist and tugged her back with a head shake. After a second, Glenn nodded curtly and returned to their table.

“Is everything all right?” Mari could tell from Glenn’s brusque movements she still was unhappy about something, and Mari’s instinct was to soothe her.

“More or less,” Glenn said.

“Who are the kids?”

“Blake Remy, Abby’s son, and Margie Rivers, Flann’s sister.”

“Wow, are they dating?”

“I don’t know,” Glenn said. “They’re tight friends, though.”

“They’re cute.”

“Uh-huh,” Glenn said, still looking as if she was ready to go into battle.

That was it. Glenn’s entire attitude emanated an air of readiness, not exactly aggressive, but prepared. Glenn’s gaze suddenly shifted to Mari, and she shivered. She wasn’t afraid, didn’t feel in danger, but ice swept down her spine. “What?”

“What’s a mean girl?”

Mari stared, then laughed softly. “You don’t know?”

Frowning, Glenn shook her head. “I guess I missed that in high school.”

“Who told you, then?”

Glenn tilted her head. “Margie. She said not to worry about the mean girls. But somebody’s hassling them, and I want to know why.”

“Oh, wow, okay. In a nutshell,” Mari said, “means girls are all about being the popular ones, and anyone who isn’t one of them is fair game for taunting and teasing.”

“Bullying, you mean?” Glenn got that look again—a spring coiling. Mari’s karate instructor when she’d been a preteen had called it a state of readiness. Watchful waiting.

“Not necessarily anything that extreme, but I suppose it depends on the person at the receiving end and how badly they want to fit in.”

“Why? What’s the goal?” Glenn asked, still looking flummoxed.

“Usually it’s about boys. The popular girls are most attractive to boys, especially older boys.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Glenn muttered.

“Don’t you remember high school? Everything’s about status, and who you date is a big part of that.”

“I wasn’t part of any of that.”

“Loner?” Mari guessed.

“I just kept my head down and put in my time.”

The statement was cryptic, but Mari sensed the memory was a hard one. “So the girls are giving Margie trouble?”

“Something like that, I think. Of course, neither of them would tell me.”

“It’s probably better they sort it out themselves. It’s a teenager thing.”

“Yeah, probably, but this is a little different.”

“Why is that?”

Glenn seemed to be giving her answer some thought until she finally said, “It’s not a secret, so I don’t think he’d mind me saying. Blake is trans, and he’s already drawn some unwanted attention from an older bunch of ass—morons.”

“He’s out to everyone?” Mari asked. “And Dr. Remy is supportive, I imagine?”

“Sure,” Glenn said, as if there couldn’t be any other answer.

Mari sagged back in her chair, so many emotions charging through her at once she had trouble sorting them out. “I think I’m jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of Blake.”

“Are you saying you’re…?”

“Me? No,” Mari said, enjoying the look of worry that flashed across Glenn’s face. “No, I am firmly a women-only lesbian, but I didn’t really get that about myself until just recently. Makes me feel a little silly when I see someone like Blake.”

“Some don’t make all the connections right away. No harm, no foul.”

“I bet you did,” Mari said.

“What makes you think so?”

“Because you seem so certain, so sure of everything. Who you are and what you’re about.”

“Maybe that’s just a front.”

“I don’t think so,” Mari said softly.

“You still didn’t tell me why you’re jealous of Blake,” Glenn said, once again neatly deflecting the topic from herself.

Mari regretted her impulsive statement. She wasn’t ready to expose her private hurts, especially not so soon. “It’s a familiar story, I guess. It’s not important.”

“If it’s your story, it’s not familiar, and it’s not unimportant.” Glenn held her gaze, steady and strong. “But it’s yours to tell.”

Mine to tell. Maybe Glenn was practically a stranger, but somehow, she didn’t feel that way. Glenn was so intensely present, so focused on her, Mari trusted her in a way she hadn’t trusted anyone in forever.

“It is, isn’t it. My story.” Mari took a breath. Maybe telling it would take away some of the pain.

Chapter Seven

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Blake said quietly.

Margie swallowed her bite of pizza. “Who? Queen bitch?”

Blake cut a sidelong glance at the group of girls clustered around the counter, laughing with bright eyes that took in everyone in the room and quickly dismissed them, as if no one else mattered enough to be noticed. Usually Blake preferred to go unnoticed—but in a way, being erased with the flick of an eyelash was worse. Funny, he could barely remember when he wanted to be part of a group like that, though he never was. Too shy, too weird, too wrong. “Which one is the QB? Madison or Kaylee?”

“You can’t tell?”

“I don’t know, I don’t pay all that much attention to them.”

“That’s probably part of the problem.” Margie snorted. “Kaylee, of course. The one everyone follows around like a bunch of baby ducks.”

“Hey,” Blake protested, “I like ducks.”

“Yeah, me too, usually.” Margie leaned back and sipped her Coke, pretending not to notice when Kaylee, who she secretly envied for her straight blond hair that probably never got frizzy every time it even threatened to rain, looked in her direction. Margie practiced what Harper called a thousand-yard stare, looking somewhere over Kaylee’s left shoulder and imagining herself standing in the middle of a huge cornfield with nothing around her but miles and miles of rows of green. She’d drown herself in the horse trough before she let Kaylee know that a single snarky comment even registered in her hearing, let alone made her mad.

“I don’t get it,” Blake said. “Them, I mean. Why be that way?”

Margie sighed. Sometimes, Blake was clueless, but then, weren’t all guys when it came to girls? She leaned forward and lowered her voice, aware that Kaylee and company were still watching them. “You’re the new guy, the cute new guy, and you’re supposed to be paying attention to them, not somebody like me.”

“What are you talking about? Somebody like you? You mean smart and funny and cute, instead of stuck-up and just downright…well, mean?”

“Whoa,” Margie said, feeling her face flame. Jeez, she didn’t want to be blushing in front of those girls. They’d think Blake had just said something way personal. Of course, he had, and that was kind of weird. Nice, but, jeez. “Is that what you think?”

Blake stared at the tabletop. “Well, yeah. I just figured you knew that.”

Margie laughed. “Well, how am I supposed to know that if you never said anything?”

Blake lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know, don’t you ever look in the mirror?”

“Not where I spend a lot of time. Do you?”

“Uh…” Blake wondered if he should answer for real or just shrug it off. But it was Margie asking, right? And she got him. She never got turned off or made him feel like some kind of freak by anything he confessed. Being able to tell someone besides his mom, instead of his mom, about all the things he kept hidden made him feel normal. “I didn’t use to like looking in a mirror because every time I did, I got this creepy feeling that everything was all wrong. That the person looking back wasn’t me.” He laughed and picked the edge of his paper plate. “Now I probably look too much.”

“Is the right person looking back?”

Blake grinned, still not meeting her eyes. Still a little embarrassed, or maybe not embarrassed exactly, but self-conscious. “Yeah, pretty much, anyhow. More all the time.”

“Well, I’ve probably never said this,” Margie said, “in so many words, I mean, but like I said—you’re a cute guy.”

Blake raised his eyes. “You think by the time school starts, everybody will know about me, and maybe it’ll already be over?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anybody else like you, at least not here.” Margie sighed. “Some kids are just jerks, but you’ll be okay, sooner or later.”

“Yeah, it’s the later I’m worried about.” Blake straightened his shoulders. “Anyhow, I wasn’t talking about QB and Co. I don’t care what they have to say. I was wondering about Glenn and Mari. Do you think they’re talking about us?”

Margie glanced over to where Glenn sat with a petite, pretty woman with gorgeous black hair that shimmered even in the crappy light from the dingy fluorescents. Did everyone but her have to have great hair? “How do you know her name? I’ve never seen her before.”

“Oh, I saw her today in the ER. She’s a new physician assistant. We’ll be working with her.”

“That’s cool.” Margie snorted. “They look like they’re on a date. I don’t think they’re thinking about us.”

“You don’t think Glenn is gonna say anything to my mom, do you?”

“About those bitches being bitchy?” Margie shook her head. “That’s not Glenn. If she’s worried about them hassling us, she’ll do something about it herself.”

“She won’t, though, will she?”

“I don’t think so. Not when we asked her not to.”

“That’s good, because I think the best thing to do is just ignore them,” Blake said. “If we ignore them, maybe they’ll quit.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Margie caught Kaylee sneering in their direction. She could handle the nastiness—she’d never wanted to be one of Kaylee’s crowd—but she wasn’t so sure she could ignore them if they made Blake a target for their meanness.

*

Mari searched for a place to start a story she’d never told before. “My family is a big one. Seven kids.”

Glenn whistled. “That’s kind of unusual today.”

“Catholic. Anti-contraception.”

“Brothers or sisters?”

“All brothers except my sister and me.” Mari’s voice caught and she cleared her throat. “Selena. She’s my twin. We’re the oldest.” When Glenn politely didn’t ask, she added, “Twenty-five.”

“A twin. That’s got to be special.”

“Oh, it was. Is—I mean.” Mari began folding the straw wrapper into tiny accordion shapes, staring at her hands until she saw they were trembling. She put them in her lap. When she looked up, Glenn was studying her with that same singular intensity.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Glenn said softly. “Your story, remember?”

“I want to. I haven’t, with anyone. But you’re a good listener.”

Glenn smiled. “No one is going to be fighting for our table. Take your time.”

“About a year ago, I was kind of forced to take a good look at my life, and I finally admitted to myself what I’d pretty much always known, that I was a lesbian.” Mari shook her head. “Boy, does that sound dumb now. I dated on and off in high school, lots of times double-dating with my sister, but that kind of trickled off when I hit my twenties. Selena dated enough for both of us, but my mother was pushing us both to get serious.”

“Let me guess,” Glenn said. “Grandchildren.”

“Oh, yeah. As soon as possible, now that all of her own kids are at least teenagers.”

“And?”

“And I never really could see myself with any of the guys I dated. A couple of them were nice and wanted to get serious, but I felt like I was only partly there. Something was missing—not with them, or at least not anything that was their fault. But something I wanted to feel, I just didn’t.”

Glenn nodded faintly and said nothing, waiting. From anyone else the silence would have been unnerving, but Mari sensed her attention like a touch. “When I got to a point where lying to myself about anything seemed pointless, I needed to tell my family. I needed them to know me.”

“And they didn’t take it well?”

Mari laughed, feeling the tears pool on her lashes. She blinked angrily. “My father is still not speaking to me except through my mother. My mother is waiting for me to outgrow this crazy phase. The worst, though, is Selena. She hasn’t talked to me since I told her.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Well,” Mari said with a long sigh, “like I said, familiar story.” She glanced over at Blake and Margie, who were sharing pizza and talking with their heads bent close. “I know it has to be a lot harder for him in a lot of ways, adding all the physical changes to the emotional ones, but I envy him his mother’s support.” She glanced at Glenn. “And that of his friends.”

“He’s got plenty of people on his side, and he’s a really strong kid.” Glenn reached across the table and squeezed Mari’s hand. “Like you.”

“I don’t feel so strong sometimes.”

“Hey, you must have suspected how your family’d react,” Glenn said. “But you did it just the same, and that took guts.”

“I’d do it again,” Mari said finally, and knowing that helped. “I just wish they could love the person I’ve always been.”

“Maybe they will one day,” Glenn said.

“Maybe. Anyhow, thanks for listening.”

“Anytime,” Glenn said. There was more to the story, but she knew all too well some things couldn’t be uncovered all at once.

Mari pushed away the melancholy. Whatever her family did or didn’t do, she had a life to build. “What about you? Is your family around here?”

Glenn grimaced. “I don’t have much family to speak of. My mom died when I was about thirteen, and my old man is a drunk. I got out of Texas as soon as I could, and we don’t keep in touch.”

“I’m sorry,” Mari said. “I must sound like a whiner. At least my family was always there for me through everything, even when they couldn’t accept who I really was.” She shook her head. “Love the sinner and not the sin, and all that.”

“You’ll be in good company around here, with the sinners and all,” Glenn said with a grin. When Mari laughed, the sadness leaving her eyes, she was so beautiful, Glenn vowed to find a way to make her laugh again.

*

“Shh,” Abby said, half laughing, half groaning. “The windows are open.”

“I’m not the one calling on the deities,” Flann murmured, her mouth against the pounding pulse in Abby’s throat. A trickle of a breeze drifted through the open windows, stirring the sultry air that settled on her naked back like an unwanted quilt. Sweat pooled at the base of her spine, and Abby’s skin was an inferno against hers. Still, she wouldn’t move away, wouldn’t relinquish the heady feel of Abby’s body under hers.

Flann skimmed a hand down Abby’s flank, over her hip and around to the back of her thigh, hitching Abby’s leg a little higher.

Abby gasped when Flann’s taut thigh pressed harder between her legs. “I’d really, really like it if you put your hand where your leg is.”

“Is that right.” Flann nipped at the underside of Abby’s jaw, loving the way Abby tensed beneath her. Whenever they were in bed together, she had this all-consuming urge to make Abby come, to feel her body tighten, winding higher and higher, until she exploded. No matter how many times she vowed to draw things out, to keep Abby on the brink, she had to force herself to go slow, to tease and torture, especially when Abby demanded instant satisfaction. Flann groaned just thinking about how sexy Abby was when she wanted to come. “God, you make me crazy, you’re so hot.”

“Then go crazy,” Abby whispered in Flann’s ear, catching her earlobe between her teeth. “Get as crazy as you want, just make me come. Now, damn it.”

Laughing softly, Flann shifted her hips and slid her hand between them, cupping Abby in her palm. She slid one finger lower, drawing the tip along the petal-soft channel until she circled her clit.

“God, that’s exactly right. You have the best hands.” Abby dug her fingers into Flann’s shoulders.

“All yours, baby.” Flann stroked and circled and teased until Abby’s breath shuddered and broke on a cry, then slid inside her to ride the orgasm from the first crest to another, even deeper orgasm.

Finally Abby grasped Flann’s wrist, stilling her motion. “Stay right there. Don’t move.”

“You sure you want me to stop?”

“Positive. Perfect.”

Flann relaxed, working to catch her breath. Somehow she never remembered to breathe when Abby was about to come. In another minute, Abby drew Flann’s hand away, nudged her over, and leaned up on her elbow.

“I’ll be happy when we have our own fifty acres and I don’t have to worry about who might be listening.” Abby kissed Flann and sighed.

“Who’s worrying?” Flann asked.

Abby laughed. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not advertise our carnal ecstasies.”

“Ecstasies, huh?” Flann grinned. “We might need more than fifty acres, because I think there’s a lot of ecstasies, carnal and otherwise, in our future.”

“You’re right. Starting now.” Abby kissed her way down Flann’s throat, between her breasts, and lower. Flann’s hands came into her hair, playing ever so softly over her scalp. She loved the way Flann caressed her, as if she was everything precious in the world. When she reached the base of Flann’s belly, she stroked up the inside of Flann’s thigh with the tips of her fingers until Flann groaned. Flann liked to tease, but Abby liked to take.

She pressed Flann’s legs apart and made room for herself, slowly kissing her way from Flann’s belly downward. When she took her in, Flann arched, a strangled cry caught in her throat. Abby’s heart lifted and every single thought left her mind except one—pleasing the one woman in the world who held the key to everything in her life.

“Damn it, Abby,” Flann said through gritted teeth. “You’ll make me come right now doing that.”

Abby grasped Flann’s hand as she pushed her and pushed her, until Flann broke with a long, low groan, her body bowstring tight for an endless moment. Flann sagged back, and Abby pressed her cheek to Flann’s thigh, listening to the sound of Flann’s ragged breathing and her own runaway heart. She’d never been so content or so satisfied in her life.

“Have I mentioned I love your mouth?” Flann muttered, her words slurred.

“Now and then.”

“And your hands.”

Laughing, Abby kissed her thigh. “You might’ve a time or two.”

“And everything about you?”

Abby roused herself and curled into the curve of Flann’s body. Flann barely stirred. “I love reducing you to a quivering mass of jelly.”

Flann chuckled. “Consider me quivering.”

Abby tucked her cheek into Flann’s shoulder, drew her leg over the top of Flann’s thighs, and wrapped an arm around her middle. She couldn’t get any closer, and never wanted to be any farther away. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s get married before we move into the new place.”

Abby stilled. “You still mean married as in church, minister, wedding ceremony?”

“Yeah, all of that.”

“When were you thinking of doing this?” Abby willed her sex-addled brain to catch up to the conversation. Her heart started pounding again.

“No reason to wait.”

“Flann, honey…Harper and Presley are getting married this summer.”

“Yeah, I know that. I’m Harper’s best man.”

“So don’t you think we should let the dust settle before we spring this on everyone?”

“Okay, so how about right after them?”

Abby laughed. “Do you know how long it takes to plan a wedding?”

“Are you kidding? With all the brainpower you and Presley and Carrie and my mother and sister have at your disposal?” Flann tugged Abby’s hair. “Come on, you adore me, don’t you?”

“Endlessly.”

“And I am yours forever.” Flann cupped Abby’s cheek, her expression suddenly deep and intoxicatingly intense. “At least say you’ll marry me now—soon—soonest. Please.”

“Of course I will. Yes, a thousand times yes.”

Chapter Eight

“I hate to say this, but if I’m going to get that talk ready for tomorrow, I have to head home.” Mari would have been happy to sit at the rickety table with the empty paper plates and the intriguing dinner companion for another hour if she weren’t so damned tired. She hadn’t had such a good time in forever. Their conversation had turned from the unexpectedly personal to easier topics—work, mostly, along with books they’d read or wanted to and how they’d each ended up running to relax. While they’d talked, the pizza place had cleared out and the night outside the big plate-glass windows had drifted to full dark. Someone had propped the front door open with a chair and the street was quiet except for the occasional passing vehicle and rare echo of conversation floating from open windows.

“Listen,” Glenn said. “Why don’t I take that talk tomorrow. It’s been a long first day, and it will be late by the time you get it together.”

“No,” Mari said, reflexively refusing help, although at this point if she had a million dollars she would happily give it up to not have to go home and spend time preparing a talk. But she needed to pull her weight, for her own self-esteem and especially for the respect of people who depended on her to do her part. More than anything, she needed to feel whole again. “I appreciate it, really, but it’s okay. I can handle it.”

Glenn shook her head, a small smile on her face. “I don’t doubt you can handle pretty much anything, but I don’t think switching off lecture slots really warrants much of a firefight. It just makes good sense. You’ll get some rest and be fresher tomorrow, and you’ll put in a better day’s work.”

“Ha! Appealing to my sense of duty, are you?”

“Could be.”

“You’re pretty good at subtle maneuvering,” Mari complained with a smile.

“Lots of practice. Well, what do you say?”

Mari was tired. She hadn’t worked a full day since before she’d gotten sick. “Switching off talks—when’s the next one?”

“You can take mine next week.” Glenn leaned forward. “It’s no big deal, Mari.”

Mari liked the way Glenn said her name, or maybe she just liked the way her name sounded in Glenn’s lazy drawl, but she flushed with pleasure and hurried to cover her reaction. “All right, I see the logic. I’ll take you up on it. And thanks.”

Glenn stood. “We’re a unit, remember. That means we pull together and we get the job done.”

“It’s been a while,” Mari said as she and Glenn walked out, “since I’ve been part of something that mattered. This matters a lot to me.”

“I can tell.” Glenn paused. “Listen, I was going to head out for a run. If you don’t mind waiting about three minutes, I’ll change into my running clothes and walk you home.”

“Oh, you don’t need to—”

“Hey,” Glenn said, “time to get something straight. I know I don’t need to, but I want to. You don’t owe me anything in return.”

Mari was glad for the darkness, feeling the heat in her face. “It shows?”

“That you don’t want to owe anything? Yeah, and there’s nothing wrong with that at all. But sometimes it’s about the other person.”

“I’d like the company,” Mari said cautiously. Glenn drew her effortlessly into unfamiliar territory, every step new and unexpectedly exciting. Not a single thing had happened between them that was extraordinary, nothing that people didn’t do every single day—have a conversation with a colleague, share pizza after work, even keep each other company on the walk to the bus or subway. On the surface, the time she’d spent with Glenn was unremarkable, except every second with her was like delving farther and farther into uncharted depths, where every breath counted. She ought to be cautious, or at least a little on guard, but she was not. She hadn’t really risked anything, hadn’t revealed too much, though. And she didn’t want to say good night—not just yet.

“Where’s your apartment?” Mari said.

Glenn pointed a finger up and slightly to the right. “Right there.”

Mari laughed, breaking through the still waters of her uncertainty and taking a deep breath of cool, clean air. Glenn’s apartment was next door to the pizza place, above what looked like an antique store, closed and shuttered now. “You weren’t kidding about the pizza place being close to home.”

“So you coming up?”

“Yes,” Mari said before she thought herself into a problem that didn’t exist. She was allowed to make friends, after all.

“Watch your step on the bricks,” Glenn said, leading her down an unevenly paved alley between the two buildings that opened into a small gravel parking lot lit by lights above several of the rear doors of the first-floor businesses. A wooden staircase leading to an upper floor snaked upward along the middle of the building, and Mari climbed up behind Glenn to a wood deck. A small black wrought-iron table and two chairs sat in the corner of the otherwise empty space.

Glenn opened the screen door and motioned to the little seating area. “You can come in or wait out here. I’ll just be a minute. Cooler outside.”

Mari pulled out one of the chairs. “I’m good right here.”

“Need anything?”

Smiling, Mari shook her head. “Not a thing.”

“Be right back.”

Glenn disappeared and Mari leaned back with a sigh. She couldn’t see much beyond the confines of the dimly lit lot below, but she didn’t really need to. The air had finally cooled, and a breeze smelling of something green and alive tickled her hair. The sky was clear and starlit, an amazing phenomenon she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to. From somewhere down the road or maybe across the fields, a lilting, melodious refrain she couldn’t place drifted out someone’s open window, the music triggering the memory of her mother ironing or folding laundry late into the night, humming along to the radio. God, she missed her. All of them.

Glenn stepped out in shorts, T-shirt, and running shoes. “Ready?”

Mari rose quickly and swallowed the sadness burning her throat. “Yes.”

“You okay?”

“Fine. Although I think I could sit out here for the rest of the night. It feels great to be outside.” Mari let herself stare, hoping the almost-dark covered her interest. The half-light softened Glenn’s sharply etched features, but the running clothes revealed a lot more of her body than had been apparent in her scrubs. Her limbs were lean and muscled, her trunk slender and sleek beneath the sleeveless tee she’d cut off at waist level, baring a strip of skin just above her shorts that Mari found suddenly very captivating.

“I sleep out here sometimes, when it gets really stuffy in the middle of the summer,” Glenn said.

Mari pulled her gaze from the pale, smooth skin and looked around. “On what?”

“The floor?”

“I got that part,” Mari said laughing, “but I mean…there’s no sofa or anything.”

“Oh.” Glenn laughed. “I just bring out a sheet and a pillow and bed down.”

“The idea is nice,” Mari admitted, “but the reality might be a little rustic for my taste.”

“Hey, no stones, no sand, no fleas. As far as I’m concerned, that’s perfect.”

And there it was, the reference point that seemed to mark everything in Glenn’s experience. Mari wondered what had happened to her over there and suspected she would never really know. Even secrets shared were often only half the story.

“How long were you in?” Mari asked as she followed Glenn down the wooden stairs.

“Eight years,” Glenn said.

“And…over there?”

“Fifteen months, the last time.” She stopped and slipped her palm under Mari’s elbow. “Watch your step right here—pothole.”

“Thanks, I’m good.” Glenn’s hand fell away, but Mari knew exactly where she had been touched. “More than once?”

“Three tours,” Glenn said, surprising herself when she answered. Like a lot of vets, she didn’t talk about her service except in the vaguest of terms. Many people were interested in what it was like, and she got that. Americans had lived with war for over a decade, had watched it begin in terror and unfold in horror on television in a way no war had ever been watched before. Countless knew people who had gone away whole and come back less than that, in spirit if not in body.

Flann was the only one Glenn ever talked about it with, and then only because Flann knew what not to ask. Flann wanted to know technical details—how battlefront medics handled traumatic injuries, how they saved lives in greater numbers than in any previous war. She never asked how the pain and terror and fear of failure affected those who knelt in the dirt and blood and smoke and waged their own personal wars on death. Glenn never minded talking about the things Flann wanted to know. Medicine was medicine, and the battlefield had taught her more than a lifetime of civilian practice in a clean, bright operating room stocked with everything she might need and all the help she’d ever want ever could. She remembered the day Flann had said she envied her the experience, and Glenn got that too. No one else would really understand what it was like to be pushed to the edge of her skill and knowledge and ability only to discover it wasn’t enough, that she needed to do more. Risk more.

“I’m sorry,” Mari said quietly. “I imagine it’s something private, something you might not want to talk about. Your story to tell.”

Glenn realized she must have gone silent. “A familiar story.”

“Not when it’s yours.”

“I’m glad I was there,” Glenn said, for the first time really knowing it was true. “Someone needed to be.”

“There must be hundreds, more, who are glad you were,” Mari said gently.

“I didn’t do anything anyone else didn’t do.” Glenn shrugged. “Nothing remarkable, nothing worth reliving.”

Reliving. Yes, that was exactly how Mari felt every time she imagined recounting the last year of her life—she feared she’d be right back there again, amidst the fear and the pain and the desperation. She quickly brushed the top of Glenn’s hand, the most comfort she could offer when Glenn so clearly didn’t want sympathy. “If, when, there’s something, anything, you want to talk about, I’d like to hear it. But if you never do, I understand.”

“If I ever do, I have a feeling it would be you.”

Glenn spoke so quietly she might have been talking to herself, but Mari heard the words, sensed them settle in the deepest part of her like a cherished gift. She took a second until the tightness in her throat abated. “Are you really going running?”

“Sure, why?”

“For one thing, it’s dark, and besides that, weren’t you up half the night operating with Flann?”

“Yeah,” Glenn said, not quite following Mari’s questions.

Mari laughed. “Well, aren’t you tired?”

“Oh no, not really. I don’t need much sleep.”

“Apparently.” Mari pointed to her house. “I’m in there. Second floor.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Thanks for dinner. Be careful running.”

“I will.” Glenn was pretty sure she didn’t have anything to be careful about, but Mari’s concern felt weirdly good. She waited on the sidewalk until Mari unlocked her door, turned, and waved.

“Night!” Mari called.

“Night,” Glenn whispered, and started to run.

Chapter Nine

Glenn never ran the same route twice. Habit was a dangerous thing. Habit could get you killed. She usually headed for the narrow roads on the outskirts of the village and then looped around the borders between town and farmland, avoiding the populated residential streets where kids and dogs congregated in the road and on sidewalks until dark. Tonight she threaded her way through the mostly empty alleys and service roads behind the businesses on Main Street and across the abandoned, overgrown railroad tracks that once transported corn and milk and flax from the surrounding farms toward the river, where barges carried the goods south and west. The train, like an interrupted lifeline on a scarred palm, no longer linked communities in the heart of the upland farms, although a freight train cut across the countryside close enough for Glenn to hear its lonely whistle crying in the night. At dawn and dusk, her favorite times to run, the roads were mostly empty, and only her footfalls kept her company.

Within minutes, her body settled into its patterned rhythm, and her senses opened to the night. Air moist with a hint of rain and smelling of freshly turned earth, crushed blossoms, and tendrils of charcoal smoke streamed over her skin. Wisps of clouds raced overhead, daring her to keep pace on their wild dash across the face of the moon. A dog barked. A coyote answered with a distant howl. Her heart tattooed a beat that kept pace with the slap of rubber soles on asphalt. Usually this far into her run her mind had stilled, bereft of thought for the only time all day.

Not so tonight. Tonight she thought of Mari Mateo. Oddly, she didn’t focus on the day they’d spent working together the way she usually considered her interactions with colleagues, although Mari had settled in seamlessly and was a welcome addition to the team. She remembered instead the easy way they’d talked about the hardest things, for both of them. She’d always been a pretty good listener, even when she’d rather shut out the shouts for medic or whispered pleas to make sure some loved one in another part of the world knew a soldier’s last thoughts had been of them. She’d never been a talker herself—never saw the point in dwelling on what couldn’t be changed—but Mari’s courage in exposing her personal struggles had inspired Glenn to open up a little, hell, a lot more than she ever did with anyone else.

As she covered the miles, she replayed more than their words, although they counted for a lot. Images cascaded through her mind, of Mari engrossed in examining a patient in a brightly lit cubicle, Mari sitting across from her in the hole-in-the-wall pizza place, Mari relaxing on Glenn’s pathetic excuse for a porch as if there was nowhere else in the world she’d rather be. Glimpses of gleaming hair, so black and bright, and the quick flash of warm dark eyes and an amused smile lit up her consciousness like a strobe suddenly illuminating a dark screen. She could have wiped the images from her awareness if she’d wanted, but she didn’t. Memories of Mari kept her company as her limbs stretched and her lungs expanded, reminding her of something she’d forgotten or maybe never really known, that the other side of solitude was loneliness. She was used to being alone, even in a crowded camp or bustling ER, and she’d never considered she was lonely. Maybe it took not being to know you were.

Glenn let the unanswerable question flee with her straining breaths. She was doing fine, no matter how she described her life, and one shared dinner with a companionable woman wasn’t about to change that, nor did she want it to. She’d faced her ghosts and was making peace with them in the best way she could. That was enough for her.

As she reached the farthest point from town and turned to circle back, traffic suddenly picked up. She slowed and stared at a light patch in the sky that shouldn’t be there. Laughing, she cut down a side street and ran toward the illumination coming from the fifty-acre fairgrounds on the east side of the village that was alive with music, the roar of mingled voices, and multicolored flashing lights. Now she knew where everyone was headed on a weeknight. The rodeo.

She’d forgotten the rodeo was in town for the rest of the week. When the fairgrounds weren’t home to the annual summer county fair with its vendors, barns full of animals, show rings, and carnival midway, the space hosted other events: the boat show, huge antique fairs, classic car exhibits, and the always popular rodeo. Pretty soon a steady stream of pickups and cars passed her, and on a whim, she pulled the twenty dollar bill she kept folded in the small key pocket of her shorts and purchased a ticket for the grandstand show.

She picked up a bottle of water from the guy selling soda, beer, and water from a cooler he lugged back and forth in front of the grandstand and went in search of a seat in the nearly full stands. She’d seen the barrel racing, cattle roping, bareback riding, and obstacle course races a few hundred times in her life, or so it felt, but she still watched the competitors put their mounts through their paces and clapped along with everyone else at the simple enjoyment.

“Hey, Glenn!”

Glenn scanned the bleachers and grinned when she saw Harper Rivers with her fiancée Presley and Glenn’s friend Carrie, who also happened to be Presley’s admin and longtime friend. Carrie had shed her stylish office attire in favor of her habitual scooped tee, shorts, and sandals. With her curly shoulder-length red hair pulled back in a careless ponytail she looked closer to eighteen than early twenties. Glenn waved and climbed between the spectators clogging the aisles. She worked her way down the already full row to where her three friends pressed together to make room for her.

“Thanks for the seat.” Glenn dropped down next to Carrie. “Must be a sellout crowd. Good for the town coffers.”

“Hey.” Carrie gave her a shoulder bump. “If I’d known you’d be free, I would’ve told you we were coming tonight.”

“That’s okay. Hadn’t planned on it.” Glenn uncapped the water and drank down half. She and Carrie hadn’t known each other long, but they had developed a quick, easy friendship. They often ended up together at group gatherings, especially since their mutual friends were pairing off, but things had never gone any further than that, mostly because neither one of them had ever pushed for more. “I was at the hospital pretty late anyhow. First day of the new program.”

“I heard you had some excitement.”

“Hasn’t everyone?” Glenn smiled wryly. There were no secrets in a hospital, personal or professional. The only way to keep a secret was to keep silent. It occurred to her she’d already broken that rule with Mari, but somehow she wasn’t worried. Mari would respect her secrets.

“A mass casualty alert,” Carrie said. “Pretty wild first day for all the newbies. How’d they do?”

“The students missed the MCA, but the ER team handled that without a hitch.” Glenn shrugged. “Considering it’s the students’ first clinical experience, they aren’t half bad, actually.”

“High praise.” Chuckling, Carrie offered her half-eaten box of popcorn. “Want some?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“We’re going out for pizza in a while if you want to come.”

“Thanks, but I already had some.”

“Really?” The look in Carrie’s green eyes bordered on suspicion mixed with disbelief. “You left the hospital before sundown?”

“Oh, come on,” Glenn protested. “I do…sometimes.”

Carrie snorted. “It’s okay to admit you don’t want to come along. Just don’t think you’re getting out of the hospital barbecue this weekend.”

“I swear! I already ate. I walked down with Mari after shift and—”

“Who’s Mari?” Carrie knew everyone, considering she was the CEO’s admin, and she didn’t know anyone in the ER by that name.

“Mari Mateo. One of the new PAs, just started.”

“Huh. Since the ER is technically freestanding, those hires went through Abby and not our HR department.” Carrie gave Glenn an inquiring look. “Is she nice?”

“Nice?” Glenn felt the word roll around on her tongue like a shoe that didn’t fit. Mari was a whole lot of things—smart, capable, sensitive, maybe a little vulnerable, and, well, why not admit it, beautiful. “Sure, she’s nice.”

“And you went out to dinner with her.” Carrie’s eyes narrowed. “That’s almost newsworthy, considering about the only place you ever go outside of work is Harper and Flann’s parents’ house for Sunday dinner.”

“Pizza, Carrie, pizza.” Glenn sighed. “Give me a break.”

“Uh-huh. Just make sure she gets to the staff cookout too.”

“Flann already reminded me. I’ll make sure she’s aware—hell, I’m not gonna drag her there.”

“Mateo, you said?” Carrie asked, looking like she was only paying half attention.

“Yes, why?”

“No reason.”

Carrie fell silent, an unusual state for her. The crowd started to break up before the last competition was over. Ten thirty was late for most everybody who had to get up before four in the morning to feed the animals, milk the cows, get the work of the day started before the heat or the rain or some other unexpected event interfered.

“I’m gonna get out before the crowds,” Glenn said.

“Headed home?” Carrie asked.

“Yeah.” Glenn toyed with the idea of making a quick stop by the ER to check on the new attending on his first night on call. He seemed solid, but he was still fresh out of his residency, and he didn’t know the place like she did.

“You know,” Carrie said casually, “you don’t actually have to supervise every single person in the ER.”

Glenn laughed. “Are you mind-reading again?”

“Honestly, Glenn, you’re not all that hard to read. I’m surprised you even left today.”

Glenn didn’t mention she hadn’t been planning on it, at least not until she was absolutely certain everything was tight and tidy, but she’d been drawn away by Mari. “Are you trying to say I’m a control freak?”

“I wouldn’t be that harsh. But seriously,” Carrie said quietly, “it wouldn’t hurt to ease up a little bit now and then. You deserve it.”

“This coming from the woman who I know for a fact works twelve-hour days almost every day.”

“Have you seen my boss? She’s merciless.”

From the other side of Carrie, Presley Worth chuckled. “Are you admitting defeat?”

“Me?” Carrie grinned. “Never. I love my work, and if I never had to leave the hospital, I’d be happy.”

“We only have a few more major projects to accomplish,” Presley said, “and then your hours will seem more human.”

“Really?” Carrie snorted. “You mean after you strong-arm the construction crew into getting the new MRI wing done in six months and build the heliport in six weeks…Oh, and don’t forget pushing through the approval for our trauma accreditation so we can actually get the helicopters to land on the heliport that we haven’t built yet.”

“I didn’t say it would be instantaneous.” Presley smiled, the kind of smile fighter pilots wear as they climb into the cockpit. “It might take a month or so.”

Harper Rivers, Presley’s soon-to-be spouse and current chief of medicine at the Rivers, laughed out loud. “Darling, you do realize that at most places, things like that take a couple of years?”

“Well,” the new CEO said nonchalantly, “this isn’t most places.”

“Like I said,” Carrie said with a long-suffering sigh, “I love my job and I would sleep in the office if I could find a place to put a cot.”

“You can always bed down on the floor,” Glenn suggested. “Plenty of room behind the desk.”

Carrie gave her a raised eyebrow. “Some of us are more civilized than that.”

Glenn grinned, half listening to Carrie and Presley’s banter while most of her concentration was focused on several teens who’d just congregated at the bottom of the stairs, Blake and Margie in the mix. She noticed that another girl and boy joined them, and after they all spoke awhile, the four began wending their way toward the exit.

Glenn stood. “I’ll see you at the staff meeting tomorrow night.”

“Go home,” Carrie said sternly.

“Yes, dear.” Glenn didn’t think it necessary to add she might take just a little detour to make sure Blake and Margie didn’t run into any trouble on their way home.

*

Mari would have sworn on all that was holy she would fall asleep the second her head hit the pillow, but she lay awake in the half dark with all the events of her first day running through her mind like a runaway movie reel. Her first day. She’d gone to sleep in this room for a week, but it still felt like today was her first day. The first day that really counted. The first day of the life she’d fought for and made happen. She’d imagined what this day would be like, but she hadn’t expected most of it. The medical part was even better than she’d hoped. It was strange, the contradiction, of loving an emergency, of thriving on the challenge of going to battle against an enemy that was as real to her as she imagined an enemy on the battlefield might be to a soldier, all as a consequence of someone else’s suffering. Life was on the line, and although she might not die if she failed, someone else would, and that to her was in many ways worse than her own pain. Without the suffering of others, there’d be no need for her skills. So she’d gone to battle and loved every minute of it.

She been right that this profession was what she wanted to spend her life doing, but she hadn’t expected to discover such a vibrant community inside the hospital. She had immediately sensed the currents of a unique society with its own customs and history flowing around her like so many branches of an ancient river, in the halls and nurses’ stations, even the cafeteria. The village was another community, with its own rhythms and tides. Glenn, when she finally let herself think about Glenn, was the most unexpected part of all. She had hoped to connect with colleagues, make friends, but she hadn’t expected to meet anyone special. Someone at once secretive and welcoming, revealing and hidden. A puzzle and an open book. All Glenn’s many contrasts fascinated her, but she was most grateful to Glenn for giving her hope that she could belong somewhere again. She turned on her side and pulled a pillow close, snuggling her face into the old, familiar contours, smiling to herself as she thought about Glenn sitting across from her in the pizza parlor, still feeling the heat of Glenn’s dark-eyed scrutiny and the comfort of her unpitying understanding. Yes, much, much more than she had imagined her first day would be like.

Chapter Ten

Glenn arrived at the small ER conference room fifteen minutes before her scheduled seven o’clock lecture and found Mari already seated at one end of the oval conference table with her iPad and a cup of coffee in front of her. Dressed for the workday in pale blue, wrinkle-free scrubs, her name tag clipped to her breast pocket and a stethoscope slung around her neck, she looked rested and relaxed. No one else had arrived yet.

“Did you take those home and iron them?” Glenn asked.

Mari frowned. “Oh! You mean the scrubs? Yes.”

“When did you do that?”

“I picked them up yesterday when I was here and ironed them this morning.” Mari gave a pointed glance at Glenn’s equally pressed darker blue set. “Don’t you?”

“I used to. Now a friend in the laundry does them for me.”

“Ah—special status. Let me guess—ex-Army?”

Glenn grinned. “Navy, but us vets stick together. I’ll ask him to do yours. You want the same color all the time?”

“I’m not fussy.”

“They look good on you—I’ll tell him the baby blues.”

Mari quickly looked down at the iPad, color racing across her cheeks. “Thanks. If he can’t do it, that’s all right.”

“Billy won’t mind.”

“Well then, I owe you double.” Mari leaned over and lifted up a small green thermal insulated bag covered with multicolored fish. She unzipped the top and withdrew a cardboard cup with a Styrofoam lid that looked very much like the one she was drinking from.

Glenn stared at it and actually felt her taste buds start to tingle. “Is that—?”

“A little thank you for giving me a break on the lecture today.” Mari slid the cup down the table toward her. “Double espresso, macchiato. I just guessed on that part.”

Glenn scooped up the cup, removed the lid, and took a deep breath of some mighty fine coffee. “Perfect.” She sipped and sighed. “You have my undying thanks.”

Mari laughed. “I sort of owe you for rescuing me and taking this session.”

“Believe me, if this is what I get in thanks, I’ll do all of yours.”

“Well, I stop there almost every morning, so it’s no trouble.” Mari smiled. “Free of charge.”

Glenn settled a hip on the edge of the table. “It’s absolutely not required, but whenever you happen to think of it, you will have my eternal gratitude.”

“You’re welcome, and let’s call it done.”

“Done. How did you sleep?” Glenn asked.

“Just about the best night I’ve had in forever.” Mari paused a second. If she thought Glenn looked like she’d had less than three hours’ sleep, she didn’t say so. “You weren’t on call, right?”

“No, I wasn’t, and I decided to leave Dr. Jaspers on his own last night. I saw Baker in the cafeteria, so she survived her first night too.”

Mari laughed. “Was it difficult for you, not checking up on them?”

“Actually, yeah,” Glenn confessed. “A good friend of mine, you’ll meet her before long, Carrie Longmire, suggested I’m too controlling.”

A good friend. Girlfriend? Mari assumed Glenn’s interest was in women, although she hadn’t actually come out in so many words. The tone of the whole conversation the night before had left little doubt, but she hadn’t considered that Glenn might have a girlfriend. But then, why would she think about it? It wasn’t like they were out on a date. Still, she felt a moment’s discomfort. “Does Carrie work here?”

Glenn nodded. “Yeah, she’s the CEO’s admin.”

“She obviously knows you a lot better than me,” Mari said lightly, “but I think you’re just doing what needs to be done, especially this time of year with so many newbies aboard.” She pointed to her chest. “Including staff.”

“You’re practically a vet after yesterday’s initiation.” Glenn drained her cup and fervently wished for more. She’d gone home but she’d had a hard time falling asleep. Her body had been as keyed up as it used to be waiting for a call out in the field, only last night there’d been an undercurrent of excitement in the unrest that buzzed in her veins still.

“And really,” Mari continued, her tone unexpectedly urgent, “do you know anyone in medicine who would want someone taking care of them who wasn’t a control freak? I wouldn’t. I’d want someone in charge who was going to be looking at every single little detail and double-checking every single person who had anything to do with taking care of me. Believe me, when I was—” Mari broke off, embarrassed to discover she was trembling. Why was it so easy to open up to Glenn, to reveal everything she’d kept from everyone else?

Glenn glanced at the door, saw the shadow of a student pass by. They only had a few more minutes. Gently she said, “When you were what?”

“Sorry. I…” Mari shook her head. “Not exactly the right time or place.”

Glenn nodded. “You’re right. Your call, anytime.”

“Thanks.”

Glenn wanted to know more. Whatever darkness haunted Mari’s past, every time Mari touched upon it, her eyes filled with sadness. Glenn ached to stanch the pain as much as she ever had a battle wound. Not the place, and not the time. The students filed in and Glenn grabbed the remote for the projector and moved to the head of the table. As she launched into her abbreviated intro at precisely 0700, she watched Mari out of the corner of her eye. When she brought up an aerial shot of the hospital to orient the students to the critical locations, Mari’s attention swung back and forth from the screen to Glenn. She’d given plenty of briefings before, but she’d never enjoyed having an audience. Mari’s attention wasn’t really on her, but she enjoyed the fleeting imagining. Quickly, she pointed out the east administrative wing, the central building with reception, the library and cafeteria, and the six-story west wing with the ER, OR, ICUs, outpatient clinics, and the patient floors.

“And here”—Glenn tapped a spot at the west wing—“will be an open colonnade leading to the building”—she made a circle with her laser pointer a few inches away—“housing the new MRI suite.”

“Nice,” Antonelli said. “When do you think that will be up and running?”

“We hope to break ground before the end of the summer and have the facility opened by late spring.”

“No shi—kidding.” Antonelli whistled. “That’s pushing things. You’ll be lucky if you have your bids in by three months.”

“Got some experience there,” Glenn remarked.

“My old man used to be a general contractor. The company put up a lot of buildings in this area, and there’s pretty stiff competition for something like this.”

Glenn would have agreed if it hadn’t been for Presley Worth. Their new CEO had a way of making things happen a lot faster than anyone else could ever anticipate. She had all the resources of the SunView Health Consortium, a huge international medical consortium headed by her brother, at her command and numerous contacts of her own. In addition to being the CEO of the newly minted Argyle Community Hospital System, she was the head of the eastern division of SunView. Presley had the power to get things done on her timetable and did. As much as Glenn revered Edward Rivers and the entire Rivers family, she was convinced along with most everyone at ACH that Presley Worth was the CEO they needed to keep the Rivers alive and flourishing.

“Until the MRI suite is up and functional,” Glenn said, getting the discussion back on track, “we’ll evaluate traumatic injuries, neurological events, acute abdomens, and the like with CAT scans and X-rays. Most things that require an MRI would be done after the initial evaluation and treatment anyhow.”

“What about the helipad?” asked Baker, a short, serious, steady African American student. “I heard that could be happening a lot sooner.”

Glenn nodded. “You’re all here for three months. There’s a good chance we’ll be taking medevac patients before you’re finished.”

“Oorah,” Antonelli muttered.

Marine, Glenn noted, dimming the lights. “So let’s start with the evaluation of the multiple trauma patient.”

When the hour was over and Glenn finished answering the students’ questions, she waited while they all trooped out to join Mari.

“I imagine that was all pretty boring for you,” Glenn said.

Mari closed her iPad. “Not at all. I think it’s good to know what they know, and what I can expect them to know because I’m absolutely certain they heard it before.”

Glenn laughed. “And so you can remind them when they forget?”

Mari grinned. “Absolutely.”

“Speaking of remembering, or remembering to remind you,” Glenn said, grinning when Mari gave her a confused look, “Carrie informed me I needed to tell you about the hospital staff barbecue this Saturday afternoon. It’s an annual thing. Kind of a celebration of summer and the chance for everyone at the Rivers to get together and celebrate…well, just that we’re all still here, and the hospital is still standing strong.”

Carrie again, Mari thought. “Why the Rivers? Almost everyone calls the place by that name.”

“Flann and Harper’s great-great-great-grandfather founded the place along with a few of the town notables a little over a hundred years ago. There’s been a Rivers as chief of staff here ever since. Their father Edward heads the medical staff now, but since the hospital was sold, Presley actually runs the place.”

“That’s some legacy,” Mari said. “And of course I’ll be there. It sounds like fun and it will give me a chance to meet some of the other people from the hospital.”

“I don’t suppose you play softball, do you?” Glenn surveyed her with unabashed eagerness.

“Ah, no,” Mari said. “Is it a requirement?”

“No, not really.” Glenn sighed. “We’re always looking for new talent. The ER has a team and we play a bunch of other teams from the hospital, and town teams like police and firefighters. Not everybody on our team is actually from the ER—Flann and Harper play for us, and Carrie, she pitches—wicked, wicked pitcher.”

“Aha.” For the first time in her life Mari wished she’d been more into sports instead of clothes when she’d been a teenager. “Sorry. I’m out.”

Glenn laughed. “No problem—we’ll still feed you, but it is a requirement that you come and cheer us on.”

“And when and where would this cheering take place?”

“Usually Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. I’ll take you over to the field the first time.”

“You’re kidding. You play that many games?”

“Only during the spring and summer,” Glenn said seriously.

“That has to be, like, dozens of games.”

“Well, sure. And then there are the playoffs and the finals and the championship game. That winds up by late August.”

“Okay, I can see this is a really big deal around here.”

“Don’t you have sports where you come from?”

“I suppose we do,” Mari said, “but I’ve never paid much attention to it. The professional sports you see on television are so commercialized.”

“What about those five brothers of yours, didn’t they play sports?”

“In high school, sure, and I did go to most of their games. Basketball and soccer. No baseball, though.”

Glenn shook her head. “Philistines.”

Mari smiled. “I hereby promise to be a devoted champion of your team.”

“Your support will be greatly appreciated.” Glenn glanced at her watch. “And I guess it’s time for us to get to it.”

“Thanks again for taking the lecture this morning,” Mari said as she gathered up her things. “I really would’ve been beat if I’d had to stay up much longer.”

“Not a problem.” Glenn searched her face. “You’re okay for a full shift? Over the jet lag?”

“I’m absolutely fine,” Mari said, certain from the glimpse of worry in Glenn’s gaze she’d been right to keep some things to herself. “Let’s go clear the board.”

*

Abby tapped on Presley’s door at a little before eight. She knew Presley would be in, since she kept longer hours than most of the staff. She was behind her desk with her laptop open, her cell phone by her right hand, an iPad propped up against a stack of folders, and a supersize coffee in her left hand. She looked, as always, impeccable in a navy silk blazer and open-collared white silk shirt. A multistrand gold necklace rested just below her collarbone and a square-cut diamond glittered on the ring finger of her left hand. Her blond hair was swept back from her face and fell to just above her shoulders in thick easy waves. She smiled when she saw Abby peer in the doorway. “Hey, come on in.”

“Busy? Of course you are busy.” Abby made for the chair across from Presley. “How many worlds have you conquered this morning already?”

“Only a few,” Presley said, laughing. “What’s going on? Problem in the unit?”

“No, the ER’s fine. Well, we could always use more money, more personnel, more space—” Abby grimaced. “Really, we’re full most of the time and believe me, I’m glad for it, but if we increase our trauma call, we are badly going to need more rooms. Plus the MRI…”

“I’m working on it.”

“Believe me, I know that and I’m appreciative,” Abby said. “This is something personal. It won’t take long.”

Presley immediately sat forward, pushing aside her computer as if whatever major undertaking she’d just been involved in was completely unimportant to her. Her gaze fixed on Abby. “Is something wrong between you and Flann?”

“No, God no. Everything’s fine.” She blushed. “Ridiculous, I know, but perfect is the word I use in my head.”

“Blake is okay?”

“Blake is thriving. Somehow”—she shook her head—“he’s talked me into letting him and Margie volunteer in the ER this summer. If you and Harper agree.”

“I’ll discuss it with Harper and legal, but I don’t see a problem there.” Presley grinned. “The two of them are scary when they get their heads together.”

“Thank God it’s good scary.”

“Amen. So—what do you need?”

Abby didn’t have much time and she knew Presley didn’t either. “Flann wants to get married.”

“Of course she does, she’s more of a nester than Harper and doesn’t have a clue,” Presley said. “She took one look at you and Blake and knew where she belonged.”

Abby’s heart lurched. She hadn’t ever expected to need anyone the way she needed Flann, the way she loved her—body and soul. “She has been using the M-word from day one.”

“And is there a problem?” Presley’s question was gentle. “I know we lost touch for a while, but I think I can read happy all over you.”

“Oh no—I mean, yes, I couldn’t be happier. It’s just that you know Flann—her idea of a proposal is let’s get married and today would be time enough.”

Presley laughed. “Yeah, that’s Flann.”

“I’ve managed to hold her off for a month or so, but I don’t want this to interfere with what you and Harper have planned. After all, you got there first, so to speak.”

“Abby,” Presley said with a shake of her head, “I think it’s great. Harper will be beside herself. And so will Edward and Ida. Besides, I can’t wait to help plan your wedding.”

“Oh, please, anything you can do. Everything.” Abby pushed a hand through her hair, relief pouring through her. “I don’t know anything about weddings.”

“We’ll be old hands at it by the time Harper and I get around to it in—God, is it really only two weeks? We’ve got so much to do, we need another meeting.”

“Brunch this weekend?”

“At the latest.”

“I’ll gather the troops and let everyone know where and when.” Abby stood. “Thank you, thank you.”

Presley came around her desk and gave Abby a quick hug. “I am so happy for you. Flann is fabulous.”

“I really love her,” Abby said quietly. “And so does Blake.”

“Well, Flann is lucky to have you both. Is it a secret?”

“I don’t think Flann has told her parents yet, and we haven’t told Blake, so I’d keep it quiet for a while.”

Carrie said from the doorway, “Keep what quiet?”

Abby looked over her shoulder. “Flann and I are getting married.”

Carrie gave a little victory wiggle. “Good for you. Congratulations. Oh boy, another wedding!”

Abby thought about all she had to do in the ER, and her son who still had to find his way emotionally, physically, and in the community, and stemmed the rising panic. “Oh boy, indeed.”

Chapter Eleven

The board was full all morning and Mari ran from cubicle to cubicle seeing patients, checking on the students, and tracking down Abby or another ER doc for final sign-off on her own and the students’ cases. They were good students, responsible and caring, but they were still students. They had no idea what they didn’t know and were flush with coming out of the classroom where they thought they had learned everything there was to know. She’d felt the same way her first few days on her clinical rotations. Around eleven thirty, a quick wave of dizziness when she stood up after spending a precious fifteen minutes at a table in the little break room with a cup of tea while charting her last discharge notes reminded her she hadn’t had anything to eat since the croissant and coffee at six in the morning. She really did need to pay more attention to eating. She couldn’t do much about fretful sleeping or her frenetic pace in the ER—that was the job, after all—but she could at least try to eat. Her appetite still was nothing like it used to be, and some flavors and smells had gone off for her completely. Thank God, she still loved pizza.

Thinking about pizza made her think of Glenn, and she got that odd little twinge of heat in the center of her chest that seemed to be happening every time she thought of her or heard her voice in the hall outside a curtained room or caught a glance of her, leaning a shoulder casually against the wall while conferring with Abby or one of the students. She always looked so confident, so focused, so…sexy. Oh, hell. She had no time for out-of-the-blue thoughts like that, and no place for what they might lead to. Not for a long, long time.

Lunch. Then back to work. Just as she dropped the chart into the outbox at the nurses’ station, Antonelli stormed around the corner as if leading an assault on some enemy encampment, his usual pace, and flagged her down. She wasn’t actually assigned to him as a supervisor, but for whatever reason, he’d decided she was his go-to person. She didn’t mind, she liked teaching.

He loomed over her, two hundred twenty pounds of barely constrained muscle and testosterone to her one twenty. “Hey, Mari, I’ve got a hot appy that needs to go up to the OR. I’m going to call the surgeon, okay?”

“Whoa, take five there, soldier.”

“Marine.” His tone suggested high insult.

“Okay, marine.” Mari gestured to an out-of-the-way corner where they could talk without patients overhearing them. “Run it down for me.”

He looked annoyed, his dark brows lowering for an instant, but he followed her out of the way of hall traffic. Although he was impatient and cocky, he respected the chain of command, and she respected him for that. He was smart, maybe the smartest of the bunch, but he was quick on the draw, a result undoubtedly of his military experience. She refrained from reminding him this wasn’t the battlefield, and every decision didn’t have to be made between one heartbeat and the next. She didn’t discount his field experience and what he had learned from it, but a civilian ER was a different kind of battlefield, and sometimes, careful surveillance and planning was just as important as the ability to rapidly assess and respond.

“It’s textbook,” Antonelli said in his usual confident and moderately dismissive voice as soon as they were alone. “Twenty-five-year-old female, twelve hours of progressively increasing right lower-quadrant pain, nausea, low-grade temp.”

“White count?” Mari asked.

“Ten point five.”

“Just mildly elevated,” Mari pointed out.

He lifted a shoulder. “It’ll be a lot higher in a few hours if she doesn’t get that out.”

“Pregnancy test?”

“Pending.”

“Heterosexual, sexually active?”

“Yeah. Straight, no chance she can be pregnant.”

“Not sexually active, then?”

“No…I mean, yeah, she is,” Antonelli said, his tone suggesting this line of questioning was annoying at best, “but she had a period a month ago, and they always use a happy hat…condom.”

“Normal?”

“Huh?”

Mari almost smiled. One thing the military didn’t teach medics particularly well was female healthcare. Female troops on the front lines lived with men, fought with men, and were considered one of guys in almost all ways—but they were still biologically unique. “Was her period typical for her—timing, duration, amount? Did you ask?”

“No, she said—”

“Come on, let’s go ask her.”

“Listen, can’t we call surgery and at least get them down—”

“Why don’t we make sure we have the full story so we get the right person down here.”

As Mari walked back to the cubicle with Antonelli dogging her heels, she scanned the chart and didn’t find anything else that teased her antennae. Antonelli was probably right. The most obvious diagnosis was usually the correct one. She smiled when she thought of the old adage, When you hear hoofbeats in the hall, don’t think of zebras. All the same, the difference between a good diagnostician and an excellent one was both curiosity and suspicion. Probably a little OCD as well. The time to be certain was before you acted, because once you began a course of treatment, uncertainty was the enemy, especially if the treatment happened to be surgical.

She pulled back the curtain and introduced herself to the pale young Asian woman who waited alone in the cubicle. She briefly ran down the history Antonelli had already taken and noted one thing he hadn’t.

“So your last period was a little late and shorter than usual?”

“Only a day and not much of that,” the patient said. “But I was right in the middle of some pretty intense rehearsals, and a lot of times when I’m really stressed that happens.”

“What do you do?” Mari asked.

“I’m a dancer. Modern, mostly.”

“Where do you perform?” Mari couldn’t imagine a local art house in this rural area, and even if there was one, she doubted it could support a dance troupe, but maybe the company was located in Albany.

Kuni Yamaguchi smiled. “We’re performing at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center this summer. I’m with the New York Dance Company, but my grandmother lives here. I stay with her whenever I can.”

“Wow, that’s incredible. I’ll have to check out the events calendar.” Mari drew the sheet down and gently palpated Kuni’s abdomen. When she reached the lower right quadrant, the young woman tensed and caught her breath. “So tell me about this pain.”

“I didn’t really pay any attention to it until last night, and then it just wouldn’t go away.”

Mari recalled Antonelli’s history and physical. Twelve-hour history of pain. “It didn’t actually start last night?”

“Well, it didn’t really start bothering me until last night. I noticed it just a time or two over the last few days. Not enough to slow me down. I didn’t miss rehearsal.”

“Aha. I know how that is.” From what Mari knew of dancers, most women in competitive fields, really, they’d have to be dead to miss a rehearsal or class or meeting. She glanced over at Antonelli, whose impatient expression had turned to a frown.

“What do you say we get an ultrasound in here,” Mari suggested casually.

“Yeah, I copy that.”

Turning back to Kuni, she said, “I want to do a quick ultrasound scan, that’s a test—”

“I know what it is, but why? The other doctor thought it was my appendix.”

“And he might very well be right. But sometimes two different things can look a lot alike at first. I just want to be sure that we’re not talking about something to do with your ovaries. We can do it while we’re waiting for the results of your pregnancy test.”

“Oh.” For an instant, Kuni looked panicked. “I can’t possibly be pregnant. I don’t have any time to be pregnant, and besides that, we’re always really careful.”

“You take the Pill?”

“I did, but it makes me bloat so I stopped. But I use a diaphragm and we use a condom.” She laughed. “Really, nothing could get through all that.”

“Uh-huh,” Mari said, seeing no point in citing the statistics.

A second later Antonelli pushed the curtain aside and trundled in with the portable ultrasound machine. He set it up beside the bed and glanced at Mari.

“Have you done one before?” Mari asked.

“A couple of times.”

“Good. Let’s see what we see.”

He squeezed the cold blue gel onto Kuni’s stomach and she stiffened at the first contact, then relaxed as Antonelli, with surprisingly sensitive hands, gently guided the probe in ever increasing circles from a spot in the right lower quadrant outward. At one point he paused, backed up, and circled again. He stopped and looked over at Mari. She had been following the images on the screen, and the mass in the right lower quadrant was pretty hard to miss.

“Let’s get GYN down here,” Mari said, looking directly into Antonelli’s eyes to make sure they were on the same wavelength. The bright snap in his dark gaze told her they were and he would make sure to request a consult stat.

Mari covered Kuni with the sheet as Antonelli stepped out to call GYN. “Did someone come with you today?”

“No, I didn’t want to worry my grandmother until I knew what was going on.”

“What about your boyfriend?”

For the first time, the young woman, who had to be in considerable pain, looked distressed. “He, uh, no. I’d rather not…”

“You might want to call him or a family member,” Mari said. “We’re going to get one of the GYN surgeons down here, but I’m pretty sure you have what we call an ectopic pregnancy. That’s a situation where a fertilized egg doesn’t make it into the uterus but lodges somewhere else—often on a fallopian tube.”

“Pregnant? That’s not possible.” Kuni’s strident tone suggested she didn’t want to believe it, but a note of uncertainty flashed across her face.

“There isn’t a contraceptive in the world that’s a hundred percent, although some are obviously better than others. And if there was a time that maybe the condom slipped off or he didn’t get it on until later than usual…?”

“I don’t know, maybe that could have happened.” Kuni passed a trembling hand over her face. “God, what a mess. If it’s what you think, will I need surgery?”

“Yes, and the gynecologist will discuss all those details with you. Is there someone I can call for you?”

“My grandmother, I guess, but can you try not to worry her? She’s tough as nails, but she’s still eighty.”

“Of course. And you’re sure no one else?”

“He’s…our relationship isn’t public.”

Mari nodded. As long as she could find someone to be there to support the patient, the nature of her personal relationship was not her business. “All right. If you change your mind and want me to call him, I can. Do we have your grandmother’s number?”

“Yes, I gave that to the receptionist as next of kin.”

“I’ll be right back.” Mari squeezed the young woman’s hand and left to make the call.

By the time she was finished and assured Kuni’s grandmother she had enough time to arrange for someone to get over to the house to look after her animals, the GYN attending, of all people, was in the cubicle. She’d expected a resident, as had been the norm at the LA medical center where she’d trained, but then she remembered that most of the departments here didn’t have a residency program. Yet. Many of the doctors worked with nurse practitioners or physician assistants instead, but the staff physicians often answered their own ER calls out of necessity and expediency.

The gynecologist, a rugged middle-aged man with thick brown hair, a lantern jaw, and an incongruously soft, melodious voice, was in the midst of repeating the ultrasound when Mari walked back in.

“What I’m seeing here,” he said in his soothing baritone, “is a mass about the size of an orange sitting on your right fallopian tube that shouldn’t be there. That’s probably where the egg attached itself and is now bleeding.”

“It’s not my appendix?”

“Definitely not. We need to go in and remove what shouldn’t be there and stop the bleeding.”

“When?”

He set the probe aside and gently wiped the ultrasound jelly from her abdomen with a cotton four-by-four. “Right now.”

She caught her breath. “Can I wait for my grandmother so we can talk it over?”

“We’ll get the operating room ready, but this isn’t something that can wait too long, and surgery isn’t optional. If this bursts, the bleeding will pick up quite a bit.” He didn’t mention that catastrophic hemorrhage was a possibility or that ruptured ectopic pregnancies could be lethal. He smiled, but his expression was uncompromising. “So we’ll wait as long as we can.”

Mari said, “Your grandmother should be here any minute, Kuni. She was leaving as soon as she made a phone call.”

Kuni nodded and closed her eyes in acceptance or defeat, or probably a little of both.

Mari, Antonelli, and the GYN attending all stepped outside, and the attending, whose name tag read Brian Brownell, MD, looked at Antonelli and said, “Good pickup.”

“Mari’s call, not mine.” Antonelli scowled. “I would’ve missed it. Thought it was appendicitis.”

“Yeah, they can look a lot alike.” Brownell clapped him on the shoulder. “But you won’t miss it next time, will you?”

“Damn right,” Antonelli muttered. Brownell sauntered off to make arrangements with the OR, and Antonelli grimaced at Mari. “Fuck me. I blew that.”

“How many women with noncombat injuries did you treat over there?”

“I was assigned to a forward operating base, meaning pretty much no one we got had anything but combat trauma.”

“Then I wouldn’t be too hard on myself.”

“Yeah.” He glanced down the hall, as if seeing someone even though the way was empty. “Bet Archer would have picked it up first time, and she was frontline, closer than me even.”

“How do you know that?” Mari didn’t want to imagine Glenn in the midst of a firefight or in a jumble of bombed vehicles, trying to save lives while her own could end at any second. She didn’t want to see it, but she could, and her stomach protested.

“I asked her.” He shrugged. “And she’s got the look. Anyhow, thanks for the backup.”

“Anytime.”

Mari checked the board—as clear as it had been all day—and the clock. Another hour had passed since last time she checked, and if she didn’t eat before the midafternoon rush when people finally decided that whatever had been keeping them up the night before or bothering them all day couldn’t wait another hour rolled in, she’d never get food. Maybe Glenn would be free. “Hey, Nancy, have you seen Glenn?”

The statuesque blonde pointed in the opposite direction. “She’s riding herd on a twenty-year-old in CAT scan. Baseball bat to the forehead.”

Mari winced. “Okay, thanks, I’m going to—”

“Excuse me.” A young, vivacious redhead who looked like she belonged in a Fortune 500 front office in her stylish royal blue suit and low heels homed in on Mari. “Are you Mari Mateo?”

“Yes,” Mari said.

The redhead smiled, her celery-green eyes sparkling. “I’m Carrie Longmire. I’m pretty sure I’m your cousin.”

Chapter Twelve

Mari stared at the redhead who regarded her with eager anticipation. Carrie. Carrie. Wasn’t that the name of Glenn’s friend—possible girlfriend—the only person other than Flann Glenn had actually mentioned? Cousin?

“Cousin? I don’t see how that’s possible,” Mari finally said. Nothing about this ivory-skinned, green-eyed Irish girl could be farther from her own Mexican American heritage. True, her mother was not Hispanic, but she couldn’t see any resemblance at all between her dark-haired, brown-eyed mother and Carrie. No, this crazy idea couldn’t be true. “I know all my cousins, and they’re all on the Mateo side of the tree.”

“I know, sounds wild, huh?” Carrie smiled again and grasped her arm. “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch. Have you had lunch?”

Mari shook her head, trying to keep pace with the rapid-fire conversation and Carrie’s supercharged energy level.

“Great. I’ll tell you all about it then.” Carrie gave Mari’s arm a little tug.

Mari glanced at the board again. Still only a few patients, all currently being seen, and the ER was probably the quietest it would be for the rest of the day. She had her phone, she’d only be a minute away. And she did need some food. Besides, Carrie’s wide-open friendliness and exuberance were hard to resist. “I don’t have much time—”

“Believe me, neither do I. Have you met my boss yet?”

“Uh, no.”

“Presley has two speeds—fast and hyperdrive.” Carrie grinned. “If I’m gone more than half an hour, it will take me a day to catch up.”

“Well, half an hour is about all I’ll have.” Curious and intrigued, Mari glanced at Nancy who, watching them with obvious interest, shrugged as if to say go for it. “Okay, sure. Lunch.”

Carrie was already striding away and Mari hurried to stay with her. By the time they’d raced down a hall, up a staircase, and into the cafeteria, she was winded. Definitely time to start running again. Getting back into a regular exercise regimen would be another step toward reclaiming her life.

The cafeteria was nearly empty and the hot food lines closed, but the salad bar was still open and a cold case held packaged sandwiches that didn’t look half bad.

“They make those at the café in town every day,” Carrie said, seeing Mari look them over. “They’re good. I get one sometimes to take home for supper.”

“If they’re anything like the croissants, I’m sold.”

Carrie laughed. “Chocolate or raspberry?”

“Um, both?”

“See! I knew we were related.”

Smiling but skeptical, Mari grabbed a sandwich and put together a quick salad. Carrie had picked a table next to the one Mari had shared with Glenn. That first conversation felt like a week ago.

Mari tried the sandwich. Carrie was right. Delicious. “I don’t see how we could possibly be related. I’m not even from around here.”

“Neither am I.”

“But how could I never have heard of you before now?”

“Well that’s the thing,” Carrie said nonchalantly. “Our extended family is a little dysfunctional.”

Mari laughed, not feeling the slightest bit of humor. “I don’t know about yours, but I think mine probably is.”

“Yeah, I actually think most are—except possibly the Riverses. I’ve never seen a family quite like theirs. But you can decide that for yourself when you meet them all.”

“Maybe you should start at the beginning,” Mari said, suspecting that with Carrie everything was a story. She liked Carrie’s energy, it was practically infectious, but totally opposite her natural tendency to be cautious and guarded. And she wasn’t one for believing in coincidences.

“Before I say anything,” Carrie said, her tone softening and her vivacious expression settling into one of gentle seriousness, “I want to start out by saying that I don’t want to create any problems between you and your family. So if anything I say is likely to do that, just tell me and I’ll just stop.”

Mari pushed aside the familiar twinge of pain, tired of paying the price for refusing to live a lie. “I don’t actually see how you could cause any more problems than I already have. My family has sort of shut me out these past few months.”

Carrie stopped eating and gave her a long look. “That sounds like it sucks.”

“More or less precisely.” Mari waved a hand. “Go ahead, tell me what you think is going on with us.”

“When Glenn mentioned your name…” Carrie paused, fork waving in the air like a conductor’s baton. “Oh, background…last night at the fairgrounds, I asked Glenn how the first day with the new job had gone and your name came up. Mateo caught my attention.”

“You and Glenn were talking about me,” Mari said carefully, hoping she sounded less uncomfortable than she felt. She wasn’t exactly sure how she felt being the topic of conversation between Glenn and another woman, but she was more surprised to discover Glenn and Carrie had been together last night. Glenn hadn’t mentioned it when they’d talked that morning. Mari gave herself a mental shake. Why should she expect Glenn to update her on what she’d done after she’d walked Mari home. Her personal, private time was just that—private.

“Don’t worry,” Carrie went on as if reading her mind, “there was no good gossip. Just the usual hospital stuff, you know how that is.”

“Oh, I certainly do,” Mari said dryly. It didn’t take her very long on her first clinical rotation to discover that hospitals were giant gossip mills, mostly due to the fact that everyone spent more time together there than they did with anyone else, including their families, and a lot of that time was stressful waiting when there wasn’t much else to do except talk, speculate, and pass on snippets of juicy news. Mari pushed the niggling annoyance away. “Okay—so you and Glenn were casually chatting and somehow you decided I was your cousin.”

Carrie laughed. “Not right away—by the way, it was totally professional, except of course, for the two of you having pizza together. That was news.”