“No, I didn’t. I don’t mind, though. It beats attending parties and asking for donations.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a rough life,” she teased.
The couple lived two miles out of town on a country road. Luckily, Marta had raised the top on her Wrangler the night before, so they didn’t have to eat dust or swelter in the July heat. She heard the ambulance’s siren before she saw it a short distance ahead with its lights on. As she pulled to a stop in front of the Smith home, Walter was unloading his kit from the rear of the vehicle.
Claire called to them through the screen door of their house. They found Smitty on the floor near the entrance.
“He wanted to bring his clothes and such, so we ran home to pack a bag,” she explained. “It wouldn’t have taken more than a few minutes.”
“It’s OK,” Evan assured her. “Did he drive home?”
“Yes.”
“Then it was a good thing you took the detour,” Evan said. “Otherwise you probably would have had an accident on the way to the hospital.”
Her eyes grew wide and her voice trembled. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Tell us what happened,” Evan urged.
She cleared her throat. “As soon as we came inside, he just collapsed. He was shaking, his eyes were rolled up in his head and he wouldn’t respond to me.”
Marta knelt next to Smitty and started an IV while Walter slipped the blood pressure cuff around his arm. Although he was no longer in the throes of his tonic-clonal seizure, there were no guarantees it wouldn’t occur again.
Evan checked his pupils, nodding his agreement with Walter’s silent decision to administer oxygen. “Give him diazepam IM as soon as you get the fluids running.”
Marta taped down the needle in Smitty’s forearm and rummaged through Walter’s medical kit. She withdrew the dose Evan had indicated and injected the tranquilizer as directed.
“What happen?” Smitty’s voice sounded slurred.
“You had a seizure,” Evan leaned over him to say. “We’ve given you something to make you relax before we take you to the hospital.” He muttered to Marta, “Too bad we don’t have that LP kit after all.”
“In…ambulance?”
“Afraid so,” Evan told him, patting his shoulder. “You get to ride in style.”
Walter’s partner brought in the stretcher, and between the four of them they soon had Smitty strapped to the gurney with the oxygen tank lying between his legs.
Marta helped the men load their patient into the back of the ambulance. “I’ll drive if you want to monitor him,” Walter suggested. “Henry can bring your Jeep to the hospital so you two have a way home.”
With the travel arrangements made, their motley caravan set out, arriving in seventeen minutes instead of the usual thirty.
Conditions were cozy in the back of the ambulance but, given the choice, Marta wouldn’t have been anywhere else. Although Smitty remained stable during their ride, Evan’s face had settled into grim lines. She wondered if he was more concerned about their patient than he let on.
Evan spoke to Walter through the small window separating them. “Radio ahead and ask someone to notify Dr Campbell of our ETA.”
“Gotcha.”
Two nurses met them at the ambulance bay and whisked Smitty into the nearest trauma room, where Joe Campbell was waiting.
Evan updated his colleague, and before the ink had dried on Smitty’s admission papers, the two doctors were in the midst of performing his lumbar puncture.
Feeling extraneous with the two ER nurses, the two doctors and a host of other support personnel who’d appeared on the run, Marta waited in the nurses’ station.
When the two men finally surfaced, they went immediately to a room and closed the door. Puzzled by their need for privacy, Marta resigned herself for another wait. Thirty minutes went by before Evan joined her.
She rose. “How is Smitty?”
“He’s resting,” Evan said. “We think the pneumonia and the seizures are a result of the rickettsial infection, but the lab results aren’t available yet. Joe agrees with our theory, so he started him on chloramphenicol. He’s also requesting serology tests to see if Smitty’s been exposed to the disease.”
“I’m glad.” She glanced around. “Where is Joe?”
“He’s talking to Claire. Smitty will be in Intensive Care for a few days.”
“So much for his plan to go home soon.”
The double doors swung open and Joe strode through, smiling as he saw them. “Congratulations,” Joe called out in his loud voice. “Evan just told me the good news. But don’t worry. If everything comes to pass, we’ll definitely expand the clinic’s services.”
He turned to Evan. “I’ll keep you informed about Mr Smith.”
“Thanks.”
Marta was brimming with curiosity, but she held her questions until they’d reached the parking lot.
“What good news?” she asked breathlessly. “What changes? Why will I need more help?”
He stopped in his tracks. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”
Staring into his face, Marta shielded her eyes from the afternoon sun. “Find out what this way?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “A new business is moving to New Hope. It’s a manufacturing facility. A test operation. If it goes well, they’ll expand.”
“That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, thinking of the jobs it would create. “What are they making?”
“I understand they’re compressing wheat stubble into a fiberboard material that can be used in construction.”
“Wow! This will really help New Hope,” she said, growing excited by the prospect of the small community doubling in size. “No wonder Joe said he’d expand our services. We may be able to have our own resident physician.”
“More than likely.”
To her surprise, he seemed pensive. “You don’t seem too happy about it,” she observed.
“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m all in favor of economic development, especially for New Hope.”
“Then you should be jumping up and down like I am,” she exclaimed, filled with too many burning questions to restrain them. “When is this industry coming? Who owns it? What made the owner choose New Hope?”
“It will be at least a year until it’s fully operational. As for the owner…that’s what I wanted to tell you about this afternoon.” He paused. “The company belongs to your grandfather.”
CHAPTER TEN
A COLD shiver slithered down Marta’s spine. “My grandfather owns this company?”
Evan’s gaze remained fixed on her. “Yes.”
Now she understood his reticence. “When were you going to tell me?”
“This afternoon. Before I could, we went on the ambulance run with Smitty. It didn’t seem appropriate to mention it while we were busy with him.”
She began walking slowly to her Wrangler, pondering all the implications of Winston’s latest move. Once she recovered from the shock, anger sprouted and bloomed as fast as a dandelion after a spring rain.
Her steps lengthened until she reached her vehicle. With her teeth clenched together in tight-lipped fury, she reached to unlocked the doors, but Evan grabbed the keys out of her hand.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. How dared he?
“You’re upset.”
“There’s a news flash,” she said, using her most sarcastic tone.
“You shouldn’t be driving.”
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather make it home in one piece.”
“Then rent a car.”
He raised the key ring and jiggled it. “I have wheels. You don’t.”
“Oh, for the love of Pete,” she grumbled.
“I’ll drive,” he said, “because if you wrap yourself around a utility pole, I don’t want your accident on my conscience.”
In answer, she glared at him. He raised an eyebrow and for a moment a silent battle of wills raged.
“Please, Marta,” he said, his tone softer…kinder. “Get in. I’ll take us home.”
Pursing her lips, she stomped to the passenger side and crawled in. After fastening her seat belt, she crossed her arms and stared through the side window.
Evan slowly reversed out of the stall, then navigated through the city streets toward the highway. She stewed in silence until they were halfway to New Hope.
“Say something,” he demanded.
“Were you in on this?”
“You mean, did I know he was going to start an industry in New Hope?” She nodded and he continued, “No. I heard the news for the first time this morning.”
Marta brushed the loose tendrils of hair away from her face. “What’s he trying to prove?”
“As far as I know, nothing.”
“Nothing?” She scoffed. “Winston doesn’t do anything without an ulterior motive.”
She could see the headlines, hear everyone in town singing his praises. Once people knew of her ties to Winston, her life would turn upside down. Public opinion would sway to his side, and she’d be classed as the ungrateful wretch who had turned her back on her grandfather. What a well-calculated move on his part.
“I won’t be manipulated,” she declared.
Evan gripped the steering-wheel and his jaw tightened as if he were trying to hold onto his temper. “Why can’t you accept he just wants to do something nice for your town?”
“Because he’s never done anything nice for anyone before. I’ve read his interviews. Cut-throat, ruthless, single-minded, a barracuda. Those are all the adjectives people have used to describe him.”
“He wouldn’t be so successful if he was a doormat. The business world isn’t for the faint-hearted. Besides, you can’t believe everything you read.”
“Must you always defend him?” she demanded.
“Must you always find fault?” he countered. “The man wants to do something for you. For you, Marta. And because you won’t allow him the opportunity, he’s willing to do something for the entire town.
“This is the old the-water-glass-is-half-full-or-half-empty routine. Sure, you can either vilify what he’s doing or recognize it as a generous act. The choice is yours.”
Marta fell silent, vaguely noting they’d reached the New Hope city limits. “I’d like to believe he’s as altruistic as you claim, but…” She shook her head. She simply couldn’t stretch her imagination that far.
“You are, without a doubt, the most stubborn woman I’ve ever run across.”
“Speak for yourself,” she returned. “Why won’t you understand my side of the story?”
“Because I don’t understand. Let go of your teenage anger. Yes, I feel bad for you about that day, but I can’t change what happened no matter how much I might want to.
“You’re not the same person you were thirteen years ago,” Evan continued. “Neither is Winston. Judge him by today’s actions, not yesterday’s. And judge him for yourself, not by what the media says.”
He paused. “You give everyone else three strikes—why won’t you give him the same courtesy?”
A long moment passed and her anger built. “It’s easy for you to say forget the past and give him another chance, but you’re not risking anything.”
Evan pulled into the clinic’s parking lot and slammed on the brakes before he shoved the gearshift into neutral and switched off the ignition.
“I’m risking a helluva lot,” he ground out, his eyes spitting fire.
“Like what?”
“My future. Our future.”
Nothing else he could have said would have deflated her anger as fast. “Our future?” Marta repeated.
“Our future,” he stated firmly. “As much as I want you in my life until we’re both gumming our food and holding wheelchair races, Winston is already there. I’m willing to compromise on a lot of things—hell, I’ll even spend my summers in New Hope if that’s what you want—but Winston is as much a member of my family as my mother.”
Tears blurred her vision. As a declaration of love, it lacked something, but knowing how he felt simply added to her inner turmoil.
He let out a sharp, heartfelt sigh. “I’d stay and talk some sense into you, but I have to drive back to Dallas. I suspect I’d be wasting my breath anyway.”
She focused on a few of his words. “You’re leaving?”
“There’s a major problem at the hospital with the government Medicare inspectors. The CEO wants all the department staff available tomorrow to answer questions. I need to be in my office bright and early.”
Fate had robbed her of what had been shaping up to be the best summer in twenty-eight years. “Will you…?” She cleared the lump in her throat. “Will you finish your vacation when the crisis is over?”
What she really wanted to know was if he would return to New Hope. She waited on tenterhooks for his answer.
His smile seemed forced. “No. It’s time I went back to work. Part of the reason for this vacation was to re-evaluate my career. Working with you helped me put everything in perspective.”
He was going back to his country club, dinner parties and wealthy friends. So much for her dream of him wanting to practice in New Hope. “I thought you didn’t like the fund-raising scene.”
“I don’t, but if convincing a few people to donate money will help kids like Charlie, then I’m willing to do it.”
“Will I see you again?” She hated the weepy note in her voice.
He hesitated. “It’s up to you,” he finally said. “I want you at my side, but it’s an all-or-nothing proposition. I don’t want to feel guilty if I spend time with Winston and I don’t want you to be angry when I do. So here’s something to think about when you’re alone at night…”
He reached across the console and pulled her into his arms. Her mouth eagerly met his in a kiss capable of igniting wet tinder. She clung to him, trying to etch every sensation she felt on her mind.
He broke away with what sounded like a groan. In the next instant, he was gone.
Pain like she’d never known before filled her chest and made it almost impossible to breathe. She stumbled into the clinic, hardly able to see because of the tears brimming in her eyes.
She staggered to her office where she sank behind the desk. Evan’s scent hung in the air as a bitter-sweet reminder of the past few weeks.
Ros’s wheels whispered against the linoleum. “What’s wrong? And where’s Dr Gallagher? Oh, my gosh. Is Smitty…?”
Marta blew her nose. “Smitty’s in ICU, but he’ll be fine,” she said, tossing the tissue into the trash. “Evan’s gone.”
“He’s gone?”
“He went back to Dallas. Some problem with the hospital and he has to help sort things out.”
“Is he coming back?”
The lump in Marta’s throat reappeared. She shook her head.
Ros rolled forward to place her hand on Marta’s. “I’m sorry.”
Marta dug deep inside for the strength she’d called upon many times in her life. “Don’t be,” she said more sharply than she intended. “He has his career and I have mine. It was better for both of us if he left before…before our emotions got in the way.”
Actually, it was too late. Her emotions were already involved. She’d fallen in love for the first time in her life.
“Clean breaks are always for the best,” Ros said.
“Absolutely.” But why did they have to hurt so much?
“Have you heard anything about Jim Carter?” Ros asked Marta a week later.
“Dr Tubman diagnosed testicular cancer, just like Evan suspected,” Marta said, hoping she didn’t sound as if she was pining after the man. Although she’d smiled and joked and acted as usual, inside she felt empty.
“Too bad. Is he going to be OK?”
“He’ll have chemo, but he was in the early stages. I’ll bet he’s glad that steer ran into him, otherwise he might not have noticed the lump until it was too late.”
>
“No kidding.” Ros wheeled herself closer to the window in her office. “Guess who just pulled in?”
Let it be Evan, Marta thought, crossing her fingers and forcing herself not to run to the window and look for herself. Yet she knew it wouldn’t be him. She didn’t need Ros’s handwriting analysis to tell her that once he reached a decision he stuck to it. Besides, if a black Lexus had arrived, Ros would be jumping up and down, not moaning.
The only other person who could instill such dread in Ros was… “Don’t tell me.” She had her own problems—she wasn’t in the mood to deal with Monica’s.
“All right. I won’t. You can be surprised.”
“It’s Monica, isn’t it?”
“You said not to tell you,” Ros reminded her.
“What if I sneak out the back door?”
“We don’t have a back door.”
“Darn.” Marta watched Monica walk through their entrance. To her surprise, Monica’s shoulders were straight and she wore a tan skirt and a leopard-print blouse to match.
“Hello,” she said cheerfully.
“You look nice today,” Ros commented.
Monica blushed a pretty pink. “Why, thank you. I wondered if I could have a few words with Dr Gallagher.”
“He’s not here any more,” Marta explained. “He only worked here temporarily.”
Monica’s smile turned down. “I’m sorry to hear it. I wanted to tell him how much I appreciated his advice.”
“Did you see a counselor?”
“No, I went to my minister. He’s a widower, you know,” she said, patting her hair in place. “Anyway, to make a long story short, he helped me to see how I was suppressing my anger toward my children and it was making me sick.”
“I’m glad you’re better,” Marta said.
Monica smiled. “Thanks to Dr Gallagher, I don’t plan on dropping in to see you nearly as often. Will you let him know?”
“The next time I talk to him,” Marta promised, although she didn’t know when, or if, she ever would.
“Bye, now.”
Once Marta and Ros were alone, Ros burst out laughing. “If you could have seen the look on your face.”
“On my face? What about yours?”
“Sounds as if Evan saved the day for her.”
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