by Sarina Bowen
Traffic slowed on the approach into town, and Callie realized why when she saw tents set up on the town green. Today was the annual harvest festival. Braking to a stop to allow a departing car to slide into traffic in front of her, Callie realized that a piece of homemade pie might cheer her up. She had twenty minutes to spare before her shift, so she nabbed the newly vacant parking spot and killed the engine. If the line wasn’t too long, she could even listen to the band for a few minutes, or check out the used-book sale.
The festival was a big deal in tiny Hamilton, and so the food tent was packed. Callie paid for a piece of apple pie with crumb topping, then tried to thread her way toward the outdoors. Her progress was halted by a tall man who had managed to trip on something. For a moment, Callie thought he was going to end up face-first on the grass. But he recovered, muttered a hasty apology to someone in the crowd and scurried off.
When he moved away, Callie realized that the thing he’d tripped on was a wheelchair. And its occupant, complete with hot, mirrored shades on his face, sexy stubble on his jaw and familiar tattoos on his arms, was looking right at her.
Crap. Too late for evasive maneuvers.
She forced a smile on her face. “Hi there.”
“Hi yourself.” Hank tossed an empty plate into a garbage bin and wheeled to face her. “Come here often?”
Callie couldn’t help but grin at his ironic use of a cheesy pickup line. “Sure. You?”
Hank lifted his chin toward the other side of the green. “My friend Bear is here somewhere—I told him I’d come and find him. Want to walk with me?”
“For a few minutes,” Callie said, happy to have an excuse to step away soon, even if it was a lame one. “I’m working a four-hour stint as a favor to someone. But I couldn’t drive by apple pie on the way to the hospital.”
“All right. Eat your pie, and then I’ll introduce you to Bear.”
Together, they paused on the edge of the crowd in front of the band shell, where a vocalist was delivering an earnest version of a Dave Matthews hit. Callie polished off her slice and enjoyed the feeling of the sun on her face. She had the hottest man in Vermont at her side. Even if there was a strain between them, life could always be worse. When the song ended, she pitched her empty plate into a garbage receptacle. “I should probably get to work soon, with the other losers.”
“Come and meet my friend first, before you slap that L onto your forehead.” Hank winked. He wheeled away, toward the quieter side of the festivities, and Callie trotted along beside him. “Bear was on the competition circuit with me,” Hank said. “Now he wants to be a filmmaker. The State of Vermont hired him to shoot an ad for next year’s foliage season.”
“Well, that’s pretty cool,” Callie said.
“He thinks so. That will be him, behind that cart full of pumpkins,” Hank said.
When they rounded a picturesque wooden wagon and a horse, Callie spied a beautiful young woman, a blonde, sitting on a hay bale while another woman bent over her with a powder puff. At the sight of them, Hank’s face closed up tight. When the pretty girl turned her chin a few degrees, Callie recognized her. She was the girlfriend who had cried her eyes out in the hospital corridor all those months ago.
She was the one who dumped Hank after the accident.
Hank let go of his wheels, coming to a quick stop.
Then, a brawny, bearded guy came trotting toward them. “Big man! I’m happy to see you.” He stopped in front of them, a smile on his face and a question in his eyes when he looked at Callie.
“Hi,” she volunteered. “I’m Callie.”
“Sorry,” Hank said, snapping out of his stupor. “Callie, this is my friend Bear. Bear, Callie is a friend from the hospital.”
Callie and Bear shook hands, but Hank’s face was still stonelike. “So what’s with…?” He cocked a head toward the blonde.
Bear looked guilty. “I guess I forgot to mention she would be in town.”
“Funny,” Hank muttered. “I didn’t feel a disturbance in the force.”
There was a silence, over which they could all hear the grating pitch of the girl’s voice. “Watch it with the blue eye shadow,” she snipped at the makeup lady. “This isn’t 1975.”
But Callie could see that even the worst makeup job would still leave the irritable girl looking ravishing. How was it even fair that a top female athlete could also have the sexy pout of a model?
In comparison, Callie was downright dowdy. And the realization was bracing to her. The blonde was the sort of girl that Hank was used to dating. Only last month he had said that he was sick of adjusting his expectations, to accepting that everything in his life from now on would be second rate.
If Callie had needed a way to stop yearning for him, this was it. She never wanted to become anyone’s adjust-your-expectations girlfriend. She didn’t need to be Hank’s distant second.
The girl stood up, turning to face them. When she caught sight of Hank, a smile lit her face. Before Callie could make her excuses and run, the girl was already bounding toward them.
“Hank!” she cried, running up to kiss him on the cheek. “You look good. How are you?” Straightening up, she stood right smack in front of his chair. That required Hank to crane his neck to look up at her.
“Thanks, Alexis. I’m doing all right,” he muttered. Callie could see him fighting the urge to wheel backward a few feet, leveling his chin and therefore the playing field.
A tense silence settled between them, and Callie wished she’d already made her exit. Poor Hank was having his own double-awkward moment. And was that rock on the girl’s finger her engagement ring?
“Callie has to take off,” Hank said. “So we’ll just…” He nodded toward the parking lot.
“But you just got here,” Alexis insisted. “Tell me everything, Hank. Are you coming out West when Bear shoots his film?”
“Um, not sure about that.” Meeting Callie’s eyes, he tried for a smile but it didn’t quite work.
Alexis tossed her hair. “Park City has been a little quiet this year. Everybody is pulling back a bit after last year’s schedule. Olympic season is always so exhausting.” Her smile was wide, but Callie had to wonder if she’d brought up the Olympics to purposely wound Hank, or if she was just that insensitive. To make matters worse, the tension in the air was ratcheted up by a sudden torrent of crying from a toddler somewhere just behind Callie. Alexis licked her lips with what looked like nerves, and so Callie decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. But then she said something that was less than endearing. “Why is that kid screaming? God. Someone shut her up.”
Callie turned her head to find the source of the trouble. A young family was standing just fifteen feet away. The mother held the screaming toddler in her arms. The little girl, maybe two years old, held on to her left wrist with her chubby right hand. Her shrieks were high-pitched in a way that suggested pain.
“I was just swinging her around,” the dad said, his face reddening. “You know, in a circle. And she started hollering like that.” He reached over and took the little girl from his wife, bouncing her on his hip in a soothing way. But the little girl only cried harder, still clenching that wrist.
Even as her ears began to hurt, Callie realized that while some problems in the world were difficult to fix, that family’s problem was not among them.
Callie left Hank and his friends to cross the lawn toward the wailing toddler. “Excuse me.” She smiled as warmly as she could at the strained parents. “Has your daughter ever dislocated her elbow before?”
The father winced as the little girl screamed too near his ear. He shook his head.
Callie pointed at the little girl’s arms. “A dislocated elbow hurts at the wrist, and children will often hold it like that. I’m a doctor, and I’ve seen this in the E.R. before. May I touch her?”
Both parents nodded vigorously, as their daughter continued to show off her great pair of lungs.
Gently, Callie took the little girl’s h
urt arm in her own hand. There were tears streaming down her little face. Still crying, she watched Callie but did not seem to mind the intervention. In one fluid motion, Callie rolled the chubby wrist over so that her hand was palm up. Then she gently bent the little arm at the elbow, bringing her palm up near her shoulder. Then Callie repeated this action—rolling the hand and bending the arm.
The little girl went suddenly silent, cutting off her shrieking right in the middle of a scream. Half a beat later, both parents’ shoulders relaxed.
“Squeeze my hand,” Callie said to the little girl. The child reached out. “No…silly! With this other one.” She pointed to the formerly dislocated arm.
The little girl reached for Callie and squeezed.
“Oh, my God, thank you!” the mother gushed. The father just stared, his jaw dropped in surprise.
“It’s called nursemaid’s elbow. It happens all the time,” Callie said quickly. “Some kids are more prone to it than others, though. Take care not to tug on her arm at all for a while—maybe two weeks. It will be vulnerable for a repeat incident.”
The dad just shook his head. “I’ll never twirl her in the air again.”
The poor guy’s guilt was palpable. “I know, right?” Callie winked at him. “No good deed goes unpunished.”
The little family made more noises of gratitude, but if Callie didn’t get to work right now, she’d be late. “My pleasure,” she said.
When she turned around again, the first thing she saw was Hank, who was watching her. He winked.
Callie should have run over to say goodbye to him. But it would probably only be awkward. Instead, she pointed at her watch, and then toward the parking lot. Then she made the sign of an L with her fingers and held it up to her forehead.
He nodded, his smile warm. She gave him a little wave then walked away. As she strode for her car, Callie saw the young family she’d helped get in line for a maple creemee soft serve.
Well at least I’m good for something, Callie thought as she dug her keys from her pocket.
* * *
At the hospital, Callie found Nathan in the break room, bent over a copy of the Sunday crossword puzzle. “Hey!” he said, smiling up at her. “The fabric’s edge. Seven letters.”
“Selvage,” Callie said immediately. Without thinking, she pulled out the other chair and sat down opposite him. They’d always done the crossword together. God, she really missed having someone else in her life. The little rituals of coupledom had soothed her, and made her feel useful.
“I was never coming up with that on my own,” Nathan admitted, inking it in. “How about Pavarotti’s birthplace? I tried Verona, but the V can’t be right.”
Callie closed her eyes. “Modena?”
“Ah!” he scribbled. “You are a total babe.”
For a half second, this crumb of a compliment lit her up. But then Nathan pushed his chair back and stood up. “I have to go. Thanks for coming in. It’s been quiet so far.”
“Don’t you dare jinx me by using the Q word,” Callie warned.
Nathan gave her a sad smile. “Sorry.”
Callie shook off her disappointment and pulled on a lab coat. “If you don’t have any charts to show me, you can take off. More wedding plans?”
His smile fell away. “Nope. I’m taking my mother out for a late lunch to tell her that the wedding is off.”
“What?” Callie couldn’t even hide her surprise.
He shook his head, his eyes on the floor. “Shelli dumped me for a younger doctor up at Hitchcock. Hit me with all the ‘I told you so’s’ that you want.”
No shit? Nathan’s admission was startling. It took superhuman strength, but Callie bit back all the obvious comments. “I’m sorry for your troubles, Nathan.”
“Yeah, well. I brought them on myself.”
Callie found that she suddenly didn’t have anything to do with her eyes. Her phone had buzzed from inside her bag several times in the past half hour, so Callie chose that moment to peer at it.
She had a voice mail and two texts, all of them from Willow. Call me, read the first text. And I have a SURPRISE! read the second one. Hmm…a surprise?
“Callie?”
She looked up to see Nathan standing right in front of her. Before she could even process his movements, he stepped right into her personal space and kissed her gently on the lips. “I’m sorry I was an ass.” Too startled to speak, Callie just stood there, staring at him.
Nathan put his hands on her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I threw away what we had for…a diversion. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
“What are you saying?” Callie asked, her voice roughened by surprise.
“I should have known that Shelli and I wouldn’t be together for the long haul.” His chuckle sounded nervous. “You know—turning thirty, thinking nothing exciting would ever happen to me again. I felt like I’d spent my life in a lab coat.”
Callie gave her head a little toss, trying to shake off her stupor. “We’re having the same midlife crisis,” she admitted at a whisper.
Nathan smiled then, and his face was more vulnerable and open at that moment than she’d ever seen it. “Want to have it together?” he asked.
Without waiting for an answer, Nathan put his hand beneath Callie’s chin. He tipped her face up to meet his, and the kiss she received was warm and slow. Callie felt herself go absolutely still, taking in the moment with every cell of her being. She’d waited a long time for this—for Nathan to reverse the nightmare of his sudden rejection. It had taken so long that Callie had truly stopped expecting it to happen. What she felt right now was more surprise than glee.
Instead of losing herself in the kiss, she got sidetracked by the realization that vindication was not as sexy as it ought to be. Worse, a certain set of coal-dark eyes and sculpted shoulder muscles rose up from somewhere deep in her subconscious. And with it came the very ache of disappointment that Nathan had once inspired.
Callie stepped back, breaking the kiss. “No,” she gasped. “Nathan, I can’t do this.”
“Why?”
She didn’t even know what to say. “I’m hung up on someone else. So this wouldn’t be fair to you or me.” That was the truth, even if she and Hank had no future together. To be with Nathan right now would be settling for something lesser.
His eyes went wide. “Callie, we were good together. You said so yourself.”
“You ended it,” she whispered, “almost two years ago now. I’ve moved on.” I tried to, anyway.
Silent, Nathan stood twisting his watch on his wrist for a moment. And then all at once he grabbed his jacket off the chair and left the room.
Callie sagged into a chair, trying to figure out what had just happened. We were good together. At the time she’d said it all those months ago, she’d believed it. Maybe it was even true. It’s just that “good” wasn’t as compelling as it used to be. And that little germ of an idea—a tiny cell—dug its way into her consciousness. The whole encounter with Nathan certainly invited reflection. But she would have to do that later. Because there were rounds to make, and medications to review.
With a flustered shake of her head, Callie donned her lab coat and got to work.
* * *
At the end of her shift, Callie took a moment to herself on a hospital computer. She logged in to her personal email for the first time all day. And when she saw Marin Hospital in the subject line of a new message, her stomach gave a nervous little kick. “Dear Dr. Anders, It was with great interest that we read your cover letter. Unfortunately…” Callie’s stomach took a dive when she read that word. Why did every exciting thing in her life always come around to the word unfortunately? But as she read on, she saw that it wasn’t so bad.
Unfortunately, we have a hiring freeze through the end of the calendar year. We expect the restriction to end on January 1, however. If in the meantime you could forward your transcripts to Dr. Johnston, we will put yo
u at the top of our interview list come January.
Well. That was progress. Callie logged off the computer, mindful that she didn’t want anyone from her current employer to know that she was considering a job change.
But that would be a problem, wouldn’t it? If she were forwarding her transcripts to a hospital in California, they were going to notice. And she couldn’t wait too long to get the process started, because getting a license to practice in California took weeks. Maybe months.
People changed jobs all the time, of course. It’s just that her FES study had ten months left to go. However she made her departure, it would have to be done in such a way that the baton passed smoothly. And since Hank had made her participation one of his stipulations, Callie would have to let him know her decision, and ask him to be gracious about the switch. After everything that had happened between them, she was confident he wouldn’t make too much of a fuss. He was too good a guy.
Damn. She had to stop thinking warm cuddly thoughts about him.
The thing to do would be to let Hank know first. It wouldn’t be easy, but once she’d ripped off that proverbial bandage, she’d feel freer to plan the next chapter of her life.
At the end of her shift, Callie retrieved her jacket from her locker. Walking toward the exit doors, she passed Dr. Fennigan walking in. “Callie!” the older woman called. “How has your weekend been?” She winked in acknowledgment of the fact that both of them were standing here on hospital property, instead of somewhere more relaxing.
“Um, well! It’s going well.” She felt jittery, as if Dr. Fennigan would be able to read off her face that she was planning to defect to the West Coast.
“Glad to hear it. I ran into Hank Lazarus at the harvest festival earlier.”