Prescription For Love

by Boeshaar, Andrea

  “Hannah who?” Ravyn wondered if she knew the woman since she’d grown up in the same congregation. She’d only left when her folks did in order to begin the sister church.

  “Remington. Hannah Remington.”

  “Oh, sure. I graduated from high school with Shawn Remington. Hannah was a year or two older.”

  “That’d be her.”

  Ravyn summoned up memories of Hannah. She had always won home ec awards in school and she had typically been voted Nursery Worker of the Month at church.

  “You must like the domestic type.”

  Mark pursed his lips and raised his broad shoulders in a casual shrug. “Never really thought of it like that. I guess when the right one comes along, the Lord will let me know.”

  “Hmm.” Ravyn made a mental note to ask Teala for the scoop on the situation. Her younger sister, it seemed, was in the know when it came to the who’s who in the dating scene. Ravyn, on the other hand, was hopelessly out of touch.

  She finished her piece of licorice, and while Mark helped himself to a few more strands, she reached for her apple.

  “What about you? Any close calls, romantically speaking?”

  “No.” She mentally went over the list of guys she’d dated in the past. “No one’s managed to sweep me off my feet.” Except when I was sixteen, she added silently, giving Mark a little smile. He’d certainly accomplished the job. Of course, back then she had never purposely encouraged him in any way. She knew Shelley had her heart set on him in spite of their age difference.

  Sudden memories like flood waters seeped into the crevices of her consciousness. She heard Shelley’s voice in its dreamy state drone on and on about Mark. “He said he loves me. He wants us to be together forever—”

  “Ravyn?”

  She snapped to attention and glanced across the picnic table at Mark. Could this seemingly upstanding man in the light-green scrubs be the same creep who’d devastated Shelley so long ago?

  The pieces didn’t fit together, but maybe Teala had been right about Shelley losing touch with reality. Perhaps that’s why Shelley disappeared from Dubuque without a word—she had some kind of breakdown.

  Ravyn shook off her speculation, then glanced at her gold bracelet-watch with its large round face. “I need to get back to work.”

  “Me, too.”

  They stood, and Ravyn covered and repacked the now empty container. As a courtesy to her, Mark tossed her yogurt carton into the nearby trash bin. When he returned to the table, he set his hand on Ravyn’s shoulder.

  “Are you okay? You sort of spaced out for a moment and now you’re awfully quiet.”

  “I’m fine. I just remembered something I have to do,” she fibbed. She didn’t want to bring up the subject of Shelley again, even though the situation continued to puzzle her.

  As they made their way back to the ER, they passed Carla and another woman whom Ravyn didn’t recognize. They’re expressions brightened when they saw Mark, and Carla actu-ally giggled.

  “Hi, George,” they stated in unison.

  Ravyn glanced at Mark in time to see him incline his head, a gracious reply since he despised the nickname.

  Her heart went out to him and she nudged him with her elbow. She meant the gesture to say, Don’t let them get to you, but whether Mark understood it or not, he gave her a playful nudge right back. But his sent Ravyn halfway across the hall.

  Mark caught her by her upper arm before she could trip and fall, and they both laughed.

  “You’re such a little thing—it wouldn’t be hard for a guy to sweep you off your feet.”

  “You mean knock me off my feet.”

  They laughed again and continued their trek to the ER.

  “By the way, that was Carla. The blond who just passed us.”

  “Carla?” Mark took at quick look over his shoulder. “I’ve seen her around.”

  “She’s the one who apparently claims the two of you are dating.”

  He chuckled. “It’s news to me.”

  Ravyn believed him. “I hate all this petty stuff.”

  “I do, too, but this particular third shift is notorious for it.” He gave Ravyn a smile. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the one to change things. God obviously put you here in the ER and on this shift for a reason.”

  Ravyn hadn’t thought of her career at Victory in that light before. She’d only seen it as fitting into her plans, not God’s.

  Mark pressed on the silver automatic wall plate, and the frosted glass doors to the emergency room opened.

  “Speaking of the Lord, what are you doing tomorrow?” Mark paused just before they reached the U-shaped counter that encompassed the unit clerk’s desk and the other computer work areas.

  “Um, sleeping, I guess. I work tomorrow night.”

  “Can you catch a few Z’s in the morning and come to the late service at church? It starts at ten forty-five.” Mark grinned. “My aunt’s playing the piano for a special music piece, and it wouldn’t be any big deal, really, other than she just started taking piano lessons about six months ago.”

  “Really? Piano lessons?” Ravyn felt a smile spread across her face. She was impressed that Mrs. Darien would take on such a feat at her age. “Good for her.”

  “Yeah, too bad my uncle has to miss her great debut.”

  “Aw, yes, that is a shame.”

  “Well, listen, plan on coming to lunch with my aunt and me after the service. Uncle Chet won’t be discharged until later tomorrow.”

  Ravyn felt herself stiffen. “Whoa, Mark, wait a second.”

  He obviously didn’t hear her as the staff physician called him over. “Catch you later,” he called with a backward glance at her.

  Watching him go, Ravyn elected not to pursue the matter, but she’d have to tell him she couldn’t accept the invitation. She had to sleep sometime and she’d hate for it to be during Mrs. Darien’s solo. On the other hand, she wouldn’t mind spending more time with Mark. She sensed his interest in her, but would it result in anything more than a friendship? Did she want it to be anything more than a friendship?

  A vision of her condo on its lavish grounds flashed through her mind. The rest of her goals mentally surfaced, too. Her older model sedan wasn’t going to last forever and somewhere there was a shiny new sports car with her name on it.

  She told herself she wasn’t materialistic. Rather, she was ensuring she wouldn’t end up having to live with nothing, like her folks had done. The only reason they owned their own home now was because Grandpa Woods had left it to them in his will. Without Grandpa’s generous gift, Ravyn sometimes wondered if her family would still be destitute.

  The thought motivated her to work even harder. She picked up a patient’s chart and tried to ignore the rueful weight that settled in her heart. The fact of the matter was, she didn’t have time for a relationship, be it with Mark—or God.

  Six

  For the next two weeks, Ravyn managed to sidestep Mark each time their paths crossed. She tried to avoid talking to him unless it involved work, and she ate her lunch in places where he wouldn’t think to find her. His obvious interest caused her a measurable amount of unease.

  But then after Teala came back with glowing reports, having done a bit of research on her own, Ravyn felt less wary. Hannah Remington had only good things to say about Mark, although, as Ravyn pointed out, Hannah would never say a word against anyone. In addition, everyone in the ER seemed to regard him as an all-around nice guy who was honest to a fault and extremely serious about his medical career—too serious, according to some female staff members.

  On a particularly slow shift in the ER, Liz and a few other RNs took delight in teasing Mark to the point where Ravyn sensed his indignation. He never uttered a single retort, even though Ravyn knew he could hold his own if he chose to do so. Nevertheless, when her break time rolled around, she decided to seek him out in a small show of moral support.

  She found him in one of the back offices where residents often studied
, and knocked on the door, which stood partway open. “Anybody home?”

  Mark glanced up from the thick textbook in front of him. “Hi, Ravyn, what can I do for you?”

  The curt greeting caused her to feel a tad bit guilty. He had first thought of her as an ally, but she hadn’t been much of a friend the last ten days.

  “Want to get a cup of coffee with me?”

  He actually had to think about the offer and Ravyn’s regret mounted.

  “Mark, I’m sorry I’ve been so standoffish. I. . . Well. . .”

  He held up a hand. “You’re learning a new job. I’m sure it’s been stressful.”

  She didn’t answer, deciding his deductive reasoning wasn’t so far from the truth.

  “A cup of coffee sounds good.” He stood and stretched. “I could use a bit of a reprieve.”

  Ravyn’s opinion of him went up another notch. He wasn’t about to play games and that said a lot about his character.

  Turning from the doorway, she stepped toward the hallway when Mark grabbed hold of her elbow.

  “Let’s go down the back stairwell.”

  “No, let’s take the elevator.” She’d heard taking the stairs was the long way to the coffee shop on the lower level.

  “Nah, I don’t want people to talk.”

  “I’m not afraid to leave the ER in your company, Mark, if that’s what you mean.”

  “That’s precisely what I mean.” He put his hands on his hips, pushing back his white physician’s coat and revealing his light-green scrubs. “Look, in a month, I’m out of here but you’ll still have to work with these people.”

  Ravyn weighed her options and decided he had a good point. Without another word, she followed him to the exit at the end of the hall.

  “I’m beginning to see why some of my coworkers have worked third shift for years.” Her voice echoed in the empty stairwell. “They’d never get away with all their goofiness on first shift.”

  “Very true. There seems to be more of a corporate feel around here during the daytime.”

  Ravyn agreed and quite frequently she found herself wish-ing for dayshift again instead of having to work the graveyard shift. Nonetheless, this job was the stepping-stone she needed in her career, so she’d put in her time and then make the switch once her probationary period ended.

  They strode across the wide landing and down a second flight of steps.

  “Just for the record, those women like you, Mark.” Ravyn sent him a grin. “That’s why they pick on you.”

  “I’m flattered,” he quipped.

  She laughed.

  “Seriously, though, I don’t want to encourage anybody the wrong way, so it’s best I keep my mouth shut. Someone’s liable to get her feelings hurt and I could imagine an entire fiasco resulting.”

  “I suppose you’re right; take the Carla thing.” Ravyn opened the door and Mark followed. They left the stairway for the long corridor that led to the cafeteria. “I wonder how the rumor got started about the two of you seeing each other.”

  “Funny you mention that particular person. I discovered there’s a group of people who go out after work a couple times a week and it sounds like they drink too many Bloody Marys. Carla’s part of what’s been referred to as the Breakfast Brigade.”

  “Hmm, well, boozing at breakfast would explain it.” Ravyn gave him a sidelong glance. “Do you know I’ve never tasted a single alcoholic beverage? I saw enough drunks at the low-income housing units we lived in when I was a kid to never want to touch the stuff.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think we’re missing anything.”

  They made their way to the self-serve coffee carafes at the side counter, and Ravyn chose a flavored brew and mixed it with half a cup of decaf so she’d be able to fall asleep later today. Mark selected a roasted blend.

  They stepped up to the cash register, and a couple of fellow residents called hellos to him and asked if he was ready for their next final exam. Ravyn felt glad she’d finished school; however, the learning process never stopped. As an RN she was required to take periodic exams in order to maintain her license. She also attended various workshops and seminars in order to keep up with the ever-changing medical field.

  Ravyn slipped into a chair at a small table near some vend-ing machines. She checked her pager. Nothing—and that meant all was still quiet in the ER.

  Mark sat down across from her.

  “How’s your uncle?”

  “He’s feeling great. He’s lost some weight and walks every day.”

  “And your aunt’s piano lessons? Is she still playing?”

  Mark nodded. “Uncle Chet bought her a beautiful piano. Had it delivered the other day.” He raised one dark brown brow. “Too bad you missed her solo a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Sorry.” Ravyn sipped her coffee.

  “Stood me up and everything.”

  She laughed. “Well, if you would have allowed me to reply to your invitation, you would have known I wasn’t available and saved yourself from being stood up.”

  “Okay, you win.”

  She glimpsed his wry grin before he took a drink from his tall Styrofoam cup.

  Then his brows knitted together, forming a heavy frown. “You mentioned living in low-income units. I didn’t know that.”

  “Yep. We lived in various rental units, all in rather seedy parts of the city, until I was about fifteen. Then my parents inherited the house they still live in today.”

  Mark pursed his lips in a thoughtful manner. “I always imagined your family living in a huge mansion—like movie stars.”

  “Hardly. We were dirt poor. But then my grandpa died and left my parents money. That eased our financial plight.”

  “I would have never guessed. Your folks are such classy and creative believers.”

  “Yes, they are, but class and creativity don’t pay the bills and put food on the table. I believe there’s a fine line between waiting on God and being plain ol’ irresponsible.”

  A curious light sparked his dark brown eyes. “How so—if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Well, either one of my parents could have gotten a paying job in between productions when times got tough. But they contended they were in full-time ministry and ‘trusting the Lord.’ They’d tell everyone who would listen about our needs, always insisting that ‘God would provide.’ Then the neighbors and church members donated stuff to us. It was like my parents were”—Ravyn waved a hand in the air, searching for the right analogy—“socially acceptable beggars.”

  Mark didn’t reply but, instead, studied the rim of his coffee cup.

  “I guess that’s why I work so hard. I don’t want to ever send my children to bed hungry.”

  He perked up. “Maybe you should work on getting the husband before worrying about any future kids.”

  Ravyn crumpled a paper napkin and flung it at him. “You know what I mean.”

  He chuckled and shot the wad back at her.

  She successfully dodged the hit.

  He leaned back in his chair, and all traces of humor vanished. “Doesn’t sound like you have a very positive opinion about people in full-time ministry.”

  She shrugged. “I rather think some people use the term full-time ministry as an excuse not to work a regular job. I mean, isn’t it true that we’re all called to full-time ministry if we’re Christians? I guess that’s how I look at it.”

  “I can’t argue,” Mark said, sitting forward again. “When Jesus gave us the Great Commission, He didn’t discriminate. He’s an equal opportunity employer.”

  Ravyn grinned and sipped her coffee. She had to admit, if only to herself, that if Jesus were her earthly employer she’d probably get fired very soon.

  Lord, just as soon as I save a little more money, I’ll be able to think about You and attending church again. Promise. . .

  Mark flicked a glance at his wristwatch. “I think my break is over.”

  “Mine, too.” Ravyn stood.

  They walked bac
k to the ER, exchanging amicable banter and sharing a chuckle or two.

  ❧

  Mark stopped in the small, unused office in which he’d been working, gathered the textbooks he used in preparation for his board exams, and sauntered out to the arena area where things were beginning to pick up. A man who’d been in a bar brawl needed his hand x-rayed, and a woman with an ankle injury was just being admitted.

  Sitting down at a vacant workstation, Mark logged on to the computer. He flipped open one of the thick publications, but studying seemed impossible. He couldn’t help watching Ravyn out of the corner of his eye. He wondered about her and would have never guessed she’d had a less than idyllic childhood. The Woodses always seemed like the perfect family to Mark. It pained him to hear Ravyn’s parents put their ministry before their daughters’ needs. But, he reasoned, perhaps that was why Ravyn made a good nurse; she’d had a lot of experience taking care of people.

  She emerged from an exam room with a baby in her arms and Mark stared, half amused, half amazed. The child looked almost as big as she did. By the time he could think of forming the question, Liz, that little bulldog of a nurse, asked it for him.

  “What are you doing with that kid?”

  “Mrs. Rolland, in room 7, is going to x-ray, so I’m holding little Jessica.” Ravyn bounced the baby on her hip. “She’s almost six months old. Isn’t she adorable?”

  “What do you think this is, a day care?”

  “No, it’s night care.” Ravyn laughed. “I mean, we are the night shift.”

  “Very funny.” Liz stood with her hands on her hips.

  Mark grinned at Ravyn’s retort and returned his attention to his book, but he surreptitiously kept an ear on the conversation. He concluded Liz was Ravyn’s preceptor, and while he respected the older woman and her nursing skills, he had a hunch that she was the instigator of much of the teasing and, possibly, the rumors around here. Regardless, Ravyn didn’t seem intimidated.

  Then, much to his surprise, Liz was soon gaga-ing and goo-goo-ing at the baby, making little Jessica smile.

  Finally, the patient was returned to her exam room and Ravyn took the child back to her mother. Mark figured he’d witnessed another example of Ravyn’s care with people—babies, in this case.