by Janice Lynn
The Grand Canyon? Interesting.
“I’m glad you felt able to go.” Had Dr Goodall OK’d the trip or had Connie opted to go of her own accord?
“It’s an amazing place,” Connie continued, and although she looked at him Jared suspected she saw the multi-hued ridges of the canyon rather than the neutral beige of the exam room.
“You feel close to God when you stand there, looking over such a glorious sight. No wonder it’s one of the seven natural wonders of the world.” She paused. “Have you ever visited?”
“No.” There hadn’t been the money for trips like that when he’d been growing up. When he’d gotten old enough to do things on his own, Laura had been a part of his life and he’d fallen into her plans for the future. He’d…he’d what?
He’d betrayed someone he’d cared deeply for. Betrayed her and ultimately killed her. He’d died that night, too. He’d locked himself inside a protective shell and had quit living just as surely as Laura had. Why? Out of guilt? Out of love and respect for Laura? To keep himself from falling for anyone else? Since the evening he and Chelsea had tumbled into the sea, he’d wondered.
Found himself wondering if he wasn’t betraying her yet again by wondering about what kissing grown-up Chelsea would have felt like.
“You’d like it.” Connie interrupted his thoughts with words that sounded too close to the truth. He would have liked it, wherein lay the problem, the betrayal. “You should find a lady friend and go.” She stared at him a moment, then mused, “You’d have made my Rose a good husband, but Marvin is a decent man and treats her well, even if he is as dull as a cardboard box.”
Jared smiled at the older woman’s description of her son-in-law and ignored her suggestion to find a lady friend. The word “friend” just reminded him of the truce he’d called with Chelsea. Could they really be just friends? For the past two weeks they’d managed to pull it off, chatting at work, going out to lunch as part of a group of their coworkers, sushi on a couple of occasions after hours, and they’d fallen into a shared coffee at the break table before starting their work day.
They were going for the gold medal in friendship.
“Thank goodness my grandkids take after their mother’s side of the family,” Connie continued. She had two grandsons. One twelve and the other fifteen. Jared had met them once, at their granddad’s funeral. But he’d heard Connie mention the boys’ rambunctious ways on numerous occasions and always with a twinkle in her eyes.
“Any child who inherited your strength is lucky,” Jared agreed, directing his thoughts away from Chelsea and onto Connie. “Is Rose coming to stay with you while you have your chemotherapy?”
Connie’s pupils contracted the tiniest fraction, giving Jared a sense of unease.
“After going on the trip out West with me, she’s busy with the boys, catching up and such. If I decide to take the treatments, I’ve got a friend who’s going to stay.”
A friend? The word was haunting him.
Or maybe it was Chelsea who haunted him.
Certainly, she appeared each time he closed his eyes at night and troubled his dreams.
“Your neighbor?” he asked, trying to get back on track with what he was supposed to be focusing on. “The one who bakes those wonderful pies?”
“Darla Kamakinski?”
“That’s the one.”
“Yes.” Connie beamed, looking pleased he remembered the pies she’d had Darla bake for him.
Then what she’d said hit him, making him ashamed he had been so distracted with thoughts of Chelsea he’d almost overlooked what Connie had said. “What do you mean, if you decide to take the treatment?”
“I don’t want to take another living tour through hell, Dr Jared. I’ve decided not to have chemotherapy again.”
Bad vibes reverberated along his spine. Connie looked at peace with her plans.
“You’re a fighter, Connie, and you can beat this. Why won’t you at least try?”
Connie shook her head. “I’ve lived a good life and have no regrets. I’ve seen my Rose grown and happy. Without Paul, taking medicines that make me horribly sick just so I can stay alive doesn’t make much sense.”
He wished there was a truthful way he could guarantee a good response to her treatments, guarantee she wouldn’t suffer the horrible side effects she’d had previously. He’d never knowingly lied to a patient and wouldn’t start with one he cared about as much as he did the feisty older woman fiddling with her dragonhead walking stick.
“What about Rose? Your grandsons? You can’t just give up without doing all you can, Connie. What kind of memory are you leaving them if you just let the cancer take you without even giving the medicines a chance?”
She regarded him a long time. “You really believe the chemotherapy has a chance of working a second time?”
“I do,” he immediately answered, hoping Connie would draw strength from his belief in her. “If you fight this, I think you have a good chance.”
“You’re not going to let me just give up, are you?”
“Not in a million years.”
Weariness sagged her shoulders. “Then I guess I need to call Dr Goodall and reschedule the treatments.”
“I’ll do it now.” Jared pulled out his cell phone and called Dr Goodall’s office. “There,” he said when he’d finished. “You’re rescheduled to start treatments on Monday morning.”
Connie nodded. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you’ve opted to take the chemotherapy, Connie.”
“I know you are, Dr Jared. A lot of doctors wouldn’t give a flying flip whether or not an old lady took treatment or not. I appreciate you caring. You’re a good doctor.” She patted his hand, compassion conveyed in her arthritic fingers and her watery eyes. “And a good man.”
Her quiet praise jerked at his heart. “You’re special, Connie.”
They sat in silence, each quietly dealing with their emotions and Jared feeling awkward at how choked up Connie got him.
After a few moments pale eyes pinned him. “Don’t you think it’s time you found someone to share your life with?”
His eyes widened at her unexpected question. Unwilling to go into his personal life, even if Connie was his favorite patient and able to reduce him to feeling like an emotional schoolboy, Jared shook his head, then placed his stethoscope over her heart. He finished examining her, refilled a mild anxiety medicine she’d taken occasionally since Paul had died, then helped her to her feet.
She used her cane to brace herself and, once steady, wrapped her free arm around him. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me.”
“You’re welcome, Connie.” He gave her a quick squeeze. “If you need anything, let me know.”
He walked with Connie into the hallway and bumped into Chelsea. Her eyes met his, and his pulse rate picked up pace, stampeding wildly through his body. She looked fantastic with her dark hair pulled back at her nape, her eyes dancing brightly and her skin glowing with the light tan she was getting from evening and weekend hours spent walking on the beach.
“Hi, Jared.” She flashed him a warm smile. A friendly smile.
“Chelsea.” His throat went dry and her name came out sounding peculiar. Odd how being near her could make his mouth water and his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth at the same time.
Connie glanced back and forth between them, then perked up much as she’d looked when he’d first walked into her exam room. “Well, my, my, aren’t you the sly one?” She gave him a pointed look. “Are you going to introduce me?”
“It’s not like that,” Jared began, not wanting Connie to get the wrong idea, but also not wanting to go into any explanations in front of Chelsea.
“Like what?” Connie’s wrinkled face curved upward. “All I asked for was an introduction.” She stuck her hand out toward a curious Chelsea. “Connie Black. Call me Connie.”
“Nice to meet you, Connie.” Chelsea clasped the woman’s hand, appeared startled when Connie turned her
palm upward and studied the lines on her hand.
“Ah, this one is a keeper.” A knobby finger moved over the lines on Chelsea’s palm, carefully studying the delicate paths. “She’s endured great things and loves with all her heart. You should remember that on these long, lonely nights.”
Jared wanted to sink through one of the cracks in the floor. He shot Chelsea an apologetic look, but found her pink-cheeked and studying Connie with interest.
“Dr Chelsea Majors,” she introduced herself when he failed to for the simple reason he’d gone mute. At least, that was his diagnosis of the fact his mouth failed to cooperate.
Chelsea’s smile grew wider, more engaging. “I’m Dr Will Majors’s sister.”
“Sister? Can’t say I knew he had a sister, but I usually see Dr Jared.” She gave Jared a look full of motherly affection. “He and I have been through a lot together.”
“Oh?” Chelsea’s brow rose.
“He diagnosed me with lung cancer several years ago.”
“Which she beat,” Jared quickly pointed out. “This little lady is made of tough stuff.”
Could Connie tell he was reminding her she could beat this round of cancer, too?
“Not so tough these days.”
“Yes, you are.” He refused to let her think otherwise. “Connie is my inspiration.”
“It’s time for some young thing to inspire you.” Connie glanced suggestively at Chelsea. “I’m old and past my prime.”
“Hardly.” He wanted to say more, but his words lodged in his throat yet again.
Connie continued to clasp Chelsea’s hand, pulling it toward her. “Do you have a minute?”
Chelsea shot Jared a questioning look, and he shrugged, not sure what Connie wanted. Even more uncertain he wanted the older woman alone with Chelsea as there was no telling what she’d suggest.
“Sure,” Chelsea agreed with an indulgent smile and a curious expression. “What can I do for you?”
Connie tucked Chelsea’s arm beneath hers and gave her an appreciative pat. “Tell me what you think of my Dr Jared. He’s a handsome rascal, isn’t he? Smart, too.”
Jared stared after them, wondering if he should run interference before Connie put ideas into Chelsea’s head.
Then again, Chelsea had agreed that nothing would ever be between them except friendship, that the other had just been a silly schoolgirl crush.
Good, because he’d hate to lose the tentative friendship they’d forged, would hate to lose the brightness Chelsea added to his life because he’d come to look forward to seeing her each day, to hearing her laugh at something he’d said, to seeing her smile when their eyes met.
Sure, there was still physical attraction, but he liked having Chelsea as his friend.
And as long as friendship was all they shared, he didn’t have to feel guilty about the past.
“So, what did Connie tell you?” Jared asked Chelsea when they bumped into each other at the copy machine late that evening. He’d been going to copy a form he’d filled out when he’d seen her copying papers of her own.
Chelsea turned, gave him an impish smile as she leaned against the machine. “I enjoyed meeting her. She seems like a wonderful person.”
“She is. One of a kind.”
“She told me about her husband dying a few months back.”
“Paul died of a myocardial infarction. Very unexpected as he didn’t have any known risk factors. Connie’s not been the same since.”
“She must have loved him very much.”
“She did,” Jared agreed. “Just as Paul loved her. They were a wonderful couple.”
Chelsea looked undecided for a moment before meeting his eyes with a serious expression. “She said something that caught me off guard.”
Besides hinting that he and Chelsea should be a couple? Because he had no illusions about Connie’s reasons for wanting to talk with Chelsea. She’d taken one look at the pretty brunette and decided to play matchmaker.
“What did she say?”
“We were talking about her husband, and she made the comment that she’d see him again soon.” Chelsea’s eyes darkened with concern. “She had a faraway look, and I couldn’t decide how to take her.”
He sighed. He’d hoped Connie’s spunk today meant her spirits were good, that she didn’t feel defeated before even beginning her battle. Instead, he’d had to convince her yet again to agree to fight her cancer.
“Her cancer is back,” he admitted. “A sarcoma in her hip that’s metastasized to several organs, including her liver and pancreas.”
“Oh, Jared.” Chelsea’s eyes watered, and she reached out, placed her hand on his arm in a soothing gesture. “I’m so sorry.”
Jared’s gaze dropped to where she touched him, and he wondered how it was possible to feel comfort at such a simple thing as Chelsea’s skin against him. Although perhaps comfort wasn’t the right word, because the crazy things her touch did to his insides created havoc.
“She starts her chemotherapy on Monday. She’ll beat her cancer again.” He refused to consider otherwise. “If anyone can do it, Connie can.”
A loud noise had both of their eyes widening. He’d been pretty sure they were the only two left in the building.
“What was that?” Chelsea asked, staring at Jared in surprise.
When they went to investigate, what they found had both of them jumping into professional mode.
Leslie lay on the bathroom floor in a fetal position, holding her lower abdomen. Sweat beaded her skin, curling the tendrils of red hair at her face.
“Leslie?”
Frightened brown eyes lifted. “I think I blacked out.”
Chelsea dropped beside her friend and automatically began assessing her vitals, counting respirations and checking her brachioradialis pulse. Jared indicated he was going to get his stethoscope. “What’s wrong?”
“I feel like someone’s stabbing my insides with a knife,” Leslie gasped. “I’m…” She paused when Jared returned with his stethoscope and a black doctor’s bag.
“I’m going to undo your shirt and pants, Leslie, so I can check your stomach.”
Wincing, she nodded.
Chelsea got a cold washcloth, folded it and placed it on Leslie’s forehead while Jared gently positioned his stethoscope on each quadrant of Leslie’s abdomen. When he went to lightly palpate, Leslie jerked, grabbing his hand to stay him.
“I need to check,” he advised, keeping confidence in his eyes as he assured he’d take care of everything, that he’d make her pain go away. He’d do all he could to keep that promise. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”
Leslie nodded. “Hurry, because something’s terribly wrong.”
“I’m not seeing any scars so I assume you still have your appendix, right?” Chelsea held Leslie’s hand, closely watching his examination.
Jared had been thinking appendicitis, but Chelsea’s question beat him to the punch. Positive guarding. Positive rebound pain.
“I’ve never had surgery.”
“Help me get her to where the ultrasound machine is, and I’ll check her appendix.”
“An ultrasound?” Leslie’s eyes looked panicked. “Are you sure?”
Jared didn’t acknowledge Leslie’s question because there was no doubt that they needed to see what was going on, stat.
“I’m going to call 911 and tell them we have an acute abdomen,” Chelsea said as they assisted a doubled-over Leslie to the exam table.
He set up the machine while Chelsea made the call.
After applying the conductive gel, he placed the wand on Leslie’s stomach, searching for her appendix. What he saw on the screen stilled his hands. Oh, hell.
“I know,” Leslie moaned, her eyes pleading for understanding. “I know.”
A thousand questions ran through his mind, but he had no right to ask anything that wasn’t medically relevant to what was causing Leslie’s pain, what had caused her to pass out. What he saw opened up a whole lot of new possib
ilities.
“The ambulance is on the way,” Chelsea said, reentering the exam room. Her eyes settled on the monitor and widened. “Is that…?” She stopped, clamping her mouth closed and staring at Leslie in wonder.
Leslie’s panicked eyes met theirs. “Am I miscarrying? I know miscarriage is common during the first trimester. Is that why I’m hurting so badly? Am I losing my baby?”
Jared didn’t think so, but couldn’t be sure. “Are you bleeding or leaking any fluids?”
She shook her head, straining to see the ultrasound screen, crying out in pain at her movements. “That’s what I went to the bathroom to check, but then I passed out. I haven’t felt anything.” Leslie’s eyes turned pleading. “Please, tell me I’m not losing my baby.”
“The pregnancy isn’t ectopic, and I don’t see any obvious problems with the amniotic sac or the fetus.”
He wouldn’t go further than saying there wasn’t anything obviously apparent. The sac appeared attached and viable. Certainly, the baby’s heart beat strongly.
He shifted the wand, searching for her appendix. Then he found the enlarged, bulging area of her ascending colon.
“I don’t think you’re miscarrying,” he told her. “But your appendix is going to have to come out straight away.”
Thank God Chelsea had called for the ambulance.
Time was of the utmost essence for two lives rather than just one.
CHAPTER NINE
CHELSEA watched as Leslie was rolled into the operating room. Her appendix would be removed immediately and hopefully the trauma of the surgery wouldn’t affect her pregnancy.
“Do you think she’s going to be OK?” she asked Jared.
They sat in a private alcove with a sofa, two chairs, and a table with scattered magazines. Prior to the remodeling of the hospital it had been the main waiting room, but now served as an open sitting area just outside the hallway leading to the operating room.
“She should be,” Jared reassured her, lacing his fingers with hers and gently squeezing. “She’s in excellent hands. Dr Marks is Madison Memorial’s best general surgeon.”