Hearts Afire

by Marta Perry

  Terry stepped back, waving as the car disappeared in a cloud of dust down the lane. Then she walked back into the clinic, mind circling the question she knew her mother had wanted to ask. Why hadn’t she told them the whole story about what happened in Philadelphia?

  Because I was trying to prove I could accomplish something independent of my family. Because I failed.

  Pointless, going over it and over it. She pushed herself into action, cleaning up the last few items that were out of place, locking the drug box, putting Jake’s list of rules in the desk drawer. The cases that had come in today were so minor she hadn’t even been tempted to bend any of the rules. Not that she would.

  The door banged open. Manuela raced in. Terry’s heart clutched at the look on her face.

  “Manuela, what is it?”

  The girl leaned against the desk, breathing hard. “Juan. He’s sick. He’s so hot. Please, you have to come.” She grabbed Terry’s arm in a desperate grasp. “Now. You have to come!”

  Jake’s rule flashed through her mind. Staff will not go to the migrant housing facility alone.

  “I have to,” she said aloud. “I have to.” She grabbed her emergency kit and ran.

  Manuela fled across the rutted field toward the back of the string of cement block buildings that served as dormitories for the workers. Terry struggled to keep up, mind churning. Juan’s cut could have become infected. That seemed the most likely cause for a fever, but there were endless possibilities. If she had to take him to the hospital, she’d also have to explain how she’d come to break Jake’s rules in her first day of operation.

  The sun had already slid behind the ridge that overshadowed the camp. It would be nearly dark by the time she finished. She should have thought to bring a flashlight. She should have thought of a number of things, but it was too late now.

  Please, Lord. Guide me and show me what must be done.

  A snatch of guitar music, a burst of laughter, the blare of a radio sounded from the far end of the camp. Words that she couldn’t understand, cooking aromas that she couldn’t identify—it was like being transported to a different country.

  Manuela stopped to peer around the corner of the building, her finger to her lips to ensure Terry’s silence. She didn’t need to worry. Terry had no desire to draw attention to her presence.

  But why was the girl so concerned with secrecy? If she’d fetched Terry without her parents’ permission, that could be yet another complication to the rule she was already transgressing.

  Manuela beckoned, and together they slipped around the corner and through the door. The room was a combination kitchen and living room, with a card table, a few straight chairs and a set of shelves against the wall holding plastic dishes and dented metal pots. An elderly woman, stirring something on a battered camp stove in the corner, stared at them incuriously and went back to her cooking.

  Terry followed Manuela through a curtained door. At a guess, the whole family slept here on a motley collection of beds and cots jammed together. Juan lay on one of the cots, and to her relief, his mother sat next to him. Manuela grabbed an armful of clothes from the floor.

  “Sorry.” In the dim light, it seemed her cheeks were flushed. “Mama and I try to keep it neat, but it’s hard.”

  “I understand.” Six people were living in a room the size of the laundry room at the Flanagan house. No wonder it seemed cluttered. “Let’s have a look at Juan.”

  Nodding to the mother, she bent over the cot. “Hi, there, Juan. Remember me?” She smiled reassuringly, trying to hide her dismay. His skin was hot and dry, his eyes sunken in his small face. She glanced at Manuela. “Any chance we can get more light in here?”

  Nodding, she switched on a battery-powered lantern.

  No electricity, overcrowded conditions, inadequate cooking facilities—surely someone like Matthew Dixon could do better than this for his employees, even if they were here for only a short period of time.

  She checked the boy’s vital signs and cautiously removed the bandage on his head, relieved to find no sign of infection. “It doesn’t look as if his injury is causing this, Manuela. Has anyone else been sick?”

  Manuela translated quickly for her mother and then nodded. “Some of the other children have had fever and stomach upsets.”

  “Why didn’t their parents bring them to the clinic?”

  Manuela shrugged, face impassive. If she knew the answer, she wasn’t going to tell.

  “Tell your mother I’d like to have Juan checked out by the doctor.” She glanced at her watch. “Since it’s so late, maybe the best thing is to take him to the E.R.”

  The mother seemed to understand that phrase. Nodding, she scooped Juan up, wrapping him in a frayed cotton blanket.

  Terry followed them out, hoping she was making the right choice. Harriet would come to the camp if she called her, but by the time she’d tracked her down, they could be at the E.R. Jake wasn’t on duty tonight, so…

  That train of thought sputtered out. Why exactly did she have his schedule down pat in her mind?

  Mrs. Ortiz hurried outside. She stopped so suddenly that Terry nearly bumped into her. Mel Jordan, the crew chief, stood a few feet away, glaring at them.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” He planted beefy hands on his hips.

  Terry stepped around the woman. “Juan is running a fever. We’re taking him in to have the doctor look at him.”

  “You people aren’t supposed to be here.” He jerked his head toward the building. “Take the kid back inside. You don’t want to go running around this time of night.”

  Mrs. Ortiz started to turn, but Terry caught her arm. Manuela moved to her mother’s other side, so that the three of them faced the man.

  “My car is at the clinic.” She tried to keep her voice pleasant, suppressing the urge to rage at the man. “I’ll run them to the hospital and bring them back. It’s not necessary for you to come.”

  His face darkened. “I told you you’re not supposed to be here, interfering in what doesn’t concern you.” He took a step toward her, the movement threatening. “Just get out and take your do-good notions with you. We don’t need outsiders around here stirring up trouble.”

  Her heart thudded, but she wouldn’t let him see fear. “You’ve got trouble already. The child is sick. You can’t keep him from medical care. Or any of the other children.”

  It was obvious why none of the parents had brought their children to the clinic. Mrs. Ortiz trembled. Surely she didn’t think the man would dare become violent….

  And if he does, what will you do, Terry? Once again you’ve leaped into a situation without thinking.

  Well, she didn’t need to think about it to know these people needed help. What kind of a paramedic would she be if she walked away? One way or another, she was getting this child to a physician.

  A pair of headlights slashed through the dusk as a car bucketed down the lane. Distracted, the crew chief spun to stare as the car pulled to a stop a few feet away, the beams outlining their figures.

  She was caught in the act. She wouldn’t have to take Juan to a doctor. Jake had come to him.

  Jake took his time turning off the ignition and getting out of the car. He needed the extra minutes to get his anger under control. One day into the program, and Terry had broken his rules already.

  She’d also, from the tension in their stances when his headlights had picked them out, put herself in a bad situation. There had been something menacing about the way the crew chief confronted her, moderating Jake’s anger with fear for her.

  The man—Jordan, he remembered—swung toward him. “What is this? A convention? Don’t you people have enough to do without bothering us?”

  Jake let his gaze rest on the man until Jordan shifted his weight nervously. Then he turned toward Terry.

  Her shoulders tensed, as if expecting an assault. But no matter how tempted he might be, he owed Terry a certain amount of professional courtesy.

  “Wha
t do we have, Ms. Flanagan?”

  Her breath caught a little. “Juan Ortiz, age six. You’ll recall he was treated in the E.R. Temp 103, upset stomach, dehydrated. I was about to bring him to the E.R. when Mr. Jordan intervened.”

  He knew enough about Terry to know she couldn’t turn away from a sick child. His gaze sliced to Jordan. “Why were you trying to keep them from taking the child to the hospital?”

  Jordan’s face twisted into a conciliatory smile. “Look, it was just a misunderstanding. I’d never do a thing like that.”

  He felt Terry’s rejection of the words as if they were touching. Well, they’d deal with Jordan later. The important thing now was the child.

  “Let’s go inside and examine Juan. Then we can see what else is necessary.”

  The girl, Manuela, explained to her mother in a flood of Spanish, and they all trooped into the cement block building that appeared to be home.

  A few minutes later he tousled Juan’s hair. “You’re going to be fine, young man.” He glanced at Terry, naming the medications he wanted. “You have all that at the clinic?”

  She nodded. “I’ll run over and get them.”

  “Wait. I’ll drive you.” And we’ll talk. He turned back to Manuela. “I’m writing down all the instructions for you. It’s very important to give him liquids, but just a little at a time. A couple of sips every ten or fifteen minutes. You’ll make sure your mother understands?”

  “Yes, doctor.” She straightened, as if with pride. “I will take care of Juan myself. Everything will be done exactly as you say.”

  “Good girl. You sound as if you’d make a good doctor or nurse one day.”

  He saw something in her face then—an instant of longing, dashed quickly by hopelessness. He’d seen that look before. It shouldn’t be found on children’s faces.

  “I would like, yes. But it’s not possible. This is my life.” Her gesture seemed to take in the fields, the building, the people.

  “But, Manuela—” Terry began.

  He shook his head at her and she fell silent. Now was not the time. But her expression made him fear Terry was taking off on another crusade.

  “Well, you can practice your skills with your little brother.” He handed her the instructions. “Do you understand all that?”

  She read through it quickly and nodded.

  “Good girl. He’ll be a lot more comfortable once we get his fever down. We’ll be back in a few minutes with the medication, okay?”

  “Okay.” Her smile blossomed, seeming to light the drab room.

  He glanced at Terry. “Shall we go?”

  She picked up her kit. “I’m ready.”

  They walked to the car in silence. He’d intended to read the riot act to Terry once they were alone, but by the time they were bouncing down the lane, his anger had dissipated.

  She was the one to break the silence. “Why did you come?”

  He shrugged. “I wanted to check on how the first day went. Instead I found your car there, you gone. This seemed the likely place.”

  “You mean you expected me to break the rules.” She sounded ready for battle.

  “Let’s say I wasn’t entirely surprised.”

  “The child was sick. What did you expect me to do?”

  “You should have called me. Look, Terry, I understand why you went, but that’s not acceptable. If it happens again, I’ll pull the plug on the clinic.”

  Her hands clenched into fists on her knees. “You’re pretty good at that, aren’t you? Cutting your losses.”

  The jab went right under his defenses, leaving him breathless for an instant. He yanked the wheel, pulling to a stop in front of the clinic. Before she could get out, he grabbed the door handle, preventing her from moving. They were very close in the dark confines of the car.

  “I thought we were going to leave the past behind.” He grated the words through the pain.

  “I’m sorry.” It was a bare whisper, and the grief arced between them. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No. You shouldn’t have.”

  This was no good. They were both trapped by what had happened, and he didn’t see that ever changing.

  Chapter Four

  Terry walked back into the clinic, aware of Jake pacing behind her. Why didn’t he just leave and let her take care of getting the meds to Manuela? The last thing she needed was to have him trailing along behind her as if she couldn’t be trusted to do a simple thing like this.

  And does he know that he can trust you, Theresa? The voice of her conscience sounded remarkably like her mother. You certainly haven’t shown him that you’ll follow his rules so far.

  Even worse, she’d brought up the past that both of them knew they’d have to ignore if they were to have any sort of working relationship. She had to do better—had to find a way to curb her tongue, along with that Flanagan temper that flared too easily.

  She took a small cooler from the shelf and began filling it with ice.

  “The antibiotic doesn’t have to be refrigerated.”

  He was second-guessing her already. She would not reply in kind, but her lip was going to get sore from biting it if she had to be around Jake too much.

  “I know. I thought Manuela could give Juan some ice chips to suck on.”

  He gave a short nod and took the cooler from her, holding it while she scooped the rest of the ice in. “Where is the drug box?” His voice sharpened. “Surely you didn’t leave it here with the clinic unattended.”

  She held back a sarcastic reply with more control than she’d thought she possessed. She met his gaze. “It’s locked in the trunk of my car.”

  “Good.” He snapped the word, but then he shook his head. “Sorry. That wasn’t an accusation.”

  She supposed that was an olive branch. A good working relationship, she reminded herself. You don’t have to like the man, just get along with him professionally.

  “I know. Believe me, being responsible for that drug box is at the top of my list.” She hesitated. How much more should she say about what had happened tonight? “My family always accuses me of leaping before I look. I guess I proved them right tonight, didn’t I? I reacted on instinct.”

  That was an apology, if he’d take it that way.

  “Fast reactions are important for first responders like paramedics—”

  She had a feeling there was a but coming at the end of that sentence. “Don’t forget I’m a firefighter, too. Sometimes it’s tough to keep the jobs sorted out.”

  He blinked. “I didn’t realize that. In the city, being a paramedic is a full-time job.”

  “It’s what I’m doing most of the time, but our department isn’t all that big. When an alarm comes, I do whatever I have to.” She smiled. “Can’t let the rest of the family down.”

  Now she’d confused him. “The rest of the family?”

  “All of the Flanagans are associated with the fire department in one way or another. My father and one of his brothers started the tradition, and our generation just carried it on. Even my cousin, Brendan, the one you met at the board meeting—”

  He nodded, frowning a little, as if that board meeting wasn’t the happiest of memories.

  “Brendan’s the pastor of Grace Church, but he’s also the fire department chaplain. He manages to put himself in harm’s way a little too often to suit his wife. The others—well, you’ll meet them all at the picnic on Sunday.”

  This was the point at which he could make some excuse to get out of Mom’s impulsive invitation. He probably wanted to.

  “I’ll look forward to that.” He paused, his arm brushing hers as he reached for the lid of the cooler. “Unless that’s going to be uncomfortable for you. If you’d prefer I not come, I’ll respect that.”

  He was too close, and she was too aware of him. Instead of looking up at his face, she focused on his capable fingers, snapping the cooler lid in place as efficiently as he’d stitch a cut.

  An armistice between them—that wa
s what she needed. Maybe letting him see the Flanagans in full force would help that along. Besides, as Mom had said, they’d all be on her side, whether she wanted their help or not.

  The silence had stretched too long between them. He’d think she was making too much of this.

  “Of course I want you to come.” She met his gaze, managing a smile. “You’re new in town. We all want to make you feel welcome.” Even though she’d rather he’d found any hospital in the country other than Suffolk’s Providence Hospital to work in.

  “I’ll look forward to it, then.”

  “Fine. I’ll write up the directions to my brother’s farm for you.” A truce, she reminded herself.

  She began sorting the intake forms that had been left on the desk. “I’ll just put these away and then run the meds over to the camp on my way out. If you’d like to leave, please don’t feel you have to stay around.”

  “I’ll take the meds over.” He shook his head before she could get a protest out. “It’s not a reflection on you, Terry. I just think it’s safer if you don’t go over there tonight. In fact, no one should be at the clinic alone.”

  “Shall I add that to the rules?” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice, and his mouth tightened.

  “The rules are designed to keep everyone safe. Including you. But you have to follow them.”

  “I know.” Stop making him angry, you idiot. “Next time anything comes up, I’ll call the hospital first.”

  “No, call me. You have my cell number, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “But you weren’t on duty tonight. Wouldn’t you rather we call the E.R.?” And now she’d let him know that she was keeping tabs on his schedule.

  “That doesn’t matter. I’d prefer to be called, so I know firsthand what’s happening here. The welfare of the patients and the staff are my responsibility.”

  That almost sounded as if he cared about the clinic, instead of finding it an unwelcome burden foisted on him by the hospital administration.