by Heidi Hormel
When the session ended, Alex broke into a song that he’d made up on the spot about feeding Molly her apples and getting pony kisses. Payson went to him, while Karin stayed in the arena talking with one of the therapists and another mother.
“Dr. Mac,” Alex said. “Are you going to kiss Miss Jessie again?”
“Not this time. And no kisses from Molly, either,” he said, hoping that would quiet the boy. He was pretty sure he heard Jessie chuckle.
At the fence, the pony jammed her head between the rails, her lips smacking in anticipation of the apple in Alex’s hand. The adults stood a few steps away as Alex fed the pony and talked with her. He told her that he wouldn’t be back, but that she shouldn’t be sad. “There are other little boys and girls who will give you apples,” Alex told her, his voice quavering just a little. “Mommy said that someday we’ll come out to visit but that might not be for a little while.”
Payson had learned not to react to emotion from his patients and their parents. With Alex, he felt his heart wrench with every tear. He desperately wanted to tell his young patient that everything would be fine and that he’d be coming to Hope’s Ride as usual. But Payson shouldn’t make that promise. If he were director of pediatrics, then he would have leverage to get a “yes” to this and a lot of other options for his patients.
“Don’t worry, Alex,” he said, squatting beside the boy. “Mommy and I are working to see to it that you’ll be back soon. You can work hard on your therapy at the hospital, and I bet you’ll do even better the next time you’re here.”
“Are you sure?” Alex asked.
“Yep. No need for you to worry,” Payson said, avoiding looking at Jessie. He also didn’t think about the fact that he might just be lying to the boy, and what would happen if he couldn’t convince the foundation to pay for the treatment. “Do you think Molly’s done with her apple? Your mommy’s waiting for you.”
“See you, Molly,” Alex said, and patted the pony. His smile reached ear to ear. “’Bye, Miss Jessie.” He raised his arms for a hug. Payson saw her eyes close as she lifted the boy off the ground and squeezed him tight. When she put him down, Payson was stunned by the pain on her face.
As Alex made his way toward his mother, Payson stepped up to Jessie. “The foundation that helps pay for Alex’s therapy is withholding funds, according to Karin. I’ll give them a call. I’m sure that something can be worked out.”
Turning from him, Jessie said, “He’s not the first child who’s had to stop coming. Unfortunately, I’m sure he won’t be the last. That’s why Desert Valley is so important. More places would help out if the hospital gave us its Good Doctoring Seal of Approval.”
“I’m making the call to the foundation, Jessie.” His time at Hope’s Ride had totally messed with his schedule and now his brain was sorting through what he would face when he finally got back to his office. Helen had left six messages and sent him ten texts. The last said, Get your @ss in here.
“You’ll make the call today. You won’t forgot once you get back to the hospital,” Jessie said when she caught him at his vehicle.
“I said I’d do it,” he snapped, a little tired of her acting as if he was the bad guy around here.
“Make sure that you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you don’t believe in this program, and you’re just here so that you can get some meaningless title,” she said.
“Meaningless? It will mean control over how the children at this hospital are treated. It will mean being able to help more children, being able to offer newer, more effective treatments. And, to do it, I’ve been scaling back on surgery, which I—” He shook his head before going on. “I’ve taken on more administrative roles at the hospital. Your program...has changed my plan.”
“Of course. Can’t mess with the great doctor’s plans. Pushing papers is much more important than actually helping the kids.”
What the hell? Didn’t she understand what it had been like for him to have to say no to children and their parents as he’d started to make the transition to administration? “I was told that this was a ‘good trial’ to see how I would do as a director because I’ll be more or less coordinating the different staffs coming out to the program. If I get this right, I’ll have control over all care in pediatrics.”
“Now we get to the meat of it. You want to be in control, like always. Haven’t you learned anything? These are children, not science experiments.”
“I won’t apologize for looking for empirical evidence that your program and therapies make a difference. And I’m sure as hell not going to apologize for being a scientist.”
“Exactly how are you going to measure happiness, huh?” Jessie said.
“By how well the children are doing on their physical tests and evaluations. The hospital can’t base treatments on unicorns and rainbows. There has to be hard data. Do you think that I can tell parents that this is a treatment that will make their child smile? We don’t know if it will help him walk again, but isn’t it more important that he’s smiling? Yes, that’s exactly what parents want to hear from their doctor.” She was really starting to tick him off.
“You told me that medicine is as much an art as a science. When did you change your mind about that?”
Of all of the things that she would remember from his time as a student, why was that it? He’d thought that way early in his studies, when he’d been full of himself. “I was wrong. It’s only about science. I’ve got to go. We can have this discussion another day when I have data to show you.”
“I’ll hold you to that and I’ll expect an apology when you find out that I’m right. That the smiles are just as important as the positive MRIs.”
“It’s a bet.”
Chapter Four
Two weeks into the “collaboration” with Desert Valley, Jessie wanted to give everyone the boot, from Payson to his team of experts—experts at being a pain in Jessie’s backside. She should have known that the orientation had gone too smoothly to be true. So far, the physical therapists had insisted that they needed another two weeks of observations, and the occupational therapists were still determining how they would “implement the use of adaptive devices.” The hospital’s risk-management adviser had had the vapors when he’d seen the horses and the carts that they used for the children who couldn’t walk. The man had actually had to sit down when the dogs and assorted barn cats rubbed against his pressed khakis.
Of course, the bank called and asked when they could expect the next payment on the line of credit that she’d taken out to buy supplies. Jessie was only a few days past due, but the bank didn’t care. She owed. She had to pay. This would have been simple enough if the money hadn’t been coming in at a trickle and going out like a fire hose. Jessie had also hoped to borrow a little more money until things turned around. The bank had said clearly and with no hesitation: No.
She’d tried talking with each of the team leaders from the hospital with the goal of getting a commitment to end the observation ASAP and get the hospital’s endorsement within weeks instead of months. With the hospital on board, Jessie was sure she could go back to the bank to get more credit, which would allow her to take care of her $10,000 balloon payment. Each hospital staffer had succinctly laid out a timeline and emphasized that there was no way to cut one observation or one data collection. Hope’s Ride was something totally new to them. They had to be completely sure of its validity and safety. There were no shortcuts.
“What evil idea are you hatching?” Payson asked. They were sitting in the arena watching the children ride, including the recently reinstated Alex.
“No evil idea,” she said absently. Could she ask the hospital’s therapists to do chores? Like clean the stables? That would mean fewer hours for her paid staff. She hated to cut their wages, but the situation was dire.
; “If it involves road apples, it’s evil.”
Jessie startled herself with her own laughter. “It wasn’t my fault you were a city boy and didn’t know that road apples had nothing to do with trees.”
“My mother had the cook go to six grocery stores looking for them. You told me they were an ancient Native American ‘growth enhancer.’ And I heard you telling Alex about them. Still teasing us city kids, huh?”
Jessie couldn’t keep from grinning. She and Payson had known each other since high school, when more often than not they’d needled each other. “You got me back.”
“I did?”
“Sure. In biology lab, you convinced me that, according to my blood type, there was no way that my mama and daddy were my parents. Mrs. Lakewood gave me detention for yelling ‘You’re a damned liar’ at you.”
“That doesn’t count. You punched me after school. I fell and got a bloody nose. I ended up spending a week getting tested for all kinds of diseases because I refused to tell my mother that the bloody nose was the result of a girl punching me,” Payson said, smiling and shaking his head. “And I had to bribe my brother to keep his big mouth shut. It cost me two rookie cards and my Grand Theft Auto time for a week.”
“She knew. She told me a couple of years after we married. Remember when that patient in the ER clocked you a good one? Your eye looked horrible. She told me that if you had any more bruises, she was taking me to court for spousal abuse.”
“She said what?”
“That she was keeping her eye on me,” Jessie said with little emotion...now. She could almost laugh about his mother’s comments. But there had been a bit of guilt that went along with it. She and Payson hadn’t fought well. She certainly never hit him during their marriage, although the punch in high school had led to their first date because she’d felt so bad about giving him a bloody nose. That didn’t mean that they didn’t end up bruised and bloody when they argued during their marriage, it was just that no one could see the wounds.
“That explains the third degree when I saw her. Why didn’t you say something?”
“It doesn’t matter, Payson,” Jessie said, wanting to steer away from their past. “Do you think you could talk with the physical therapists about the extra time? I don’t understand why they don’t have the material they need.”
Payson didn’t answer for a moment, and then said, “I really didn’t know my mother thought that. If I had, I would have talked to her.”
Their eyes caught. His gaze was direct and darkly intense. She could see that he was upset and wanted to make things right. It didn’t matter now, Jessie told herself, and looked away. “About the physical therapists?”
“I’ll talk with them,” he said. They watched the children in the ring for a few moments.
“Thanks for getting the foundation to help Alex,” she said. “He was so happy when I told him that he could keep coming. He’s blowing the other kids out of the water, a total natural on a horse.” Payson nodded in acknowledgment. “It’s weird, though. Karin gave me a new billing address. I should probably call and confirm. That woman can be a little flaky.”
“Give me the address,” Payson said. “I’ll confirm it. No problem.”
“Okay,” she said slowly.
She watched Payson focus again on the arena full of children. Her smile stayed in place despite her worries. Laughing with him had taken her right back to the days when she never questioned his love. The bond between them had made her feel so...secure, but that same feeling of security had always scared her. She had worried that in trying to make him happy, she would lose her independence. She shifted in her seat and Payson turned to her, a question on his lips, then his face tightened.
“What did I do now?” he asked, his brows lowered as he studied her face.
“I’ve got to go. I’ve got a lot to do. I don’t have some cushy job at a hospital where I get a paycheck every week and someone cleans up all of my messes.” She rushed away because she refused to get caught up in leaning on him ever again. He made that too easy.
* * *
JESSIE YAWNED AS she moved the ponies and horses into the corral. She couldn’t wake up this morning, and it was Payson’s fault. She’d woken three times from dreams of testing the strength of the bedsprings during their marriage. Jessie had only gotten a couple of hours of shut-eye. She’d been so sure that the sexual tension between them would disappear as she and Payson worked together and remembered all of the reasons that they weren’t compatible.
Her increasingly erotic dreams showed her that, where Payson was concerned, she’d been wrong again. On edge and cranky, she’d exiled herself to hanging out with the animals after snapping at every single person she’d seen this morning. It had to stop. The problem was that she hadn’t figured out exactly how to do that without kicking Payson off the ranch.
* * *
“IS THERE A reason that these forms have to be filled out tonight?” she asked as she leaned over the back of her office chair, occupied by Payson. He rapidly clicked around his spreadsheet.
“The committee needs a report by the end of the day tomorrow. I’ve got to get the stats together. So, yes, this needs to be done tonight. Could I have some room?” Payson asked as he rolled his shoulders. She could see the muscles shift under his golf shirt.
“I can’t see the screen unless I stand here,” she said to needle him a little.
“It doesn’t make me fill this in any faster with you breathing down my neck.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I am breathing down your neck because that’s not the figure for feed,” she said, and leaned in a little more. Her breast tingled when it contacted his back. God, he smelled good. How could he smell good after a full day of work?
She stood up and moved away while she gave him the correct number. She paced in her small office as he typed. She was sure it wasn’t worry about getting the numbers right that made him pound the keys. Like her, he must feel the arc of awareness that crackled between them.
She knew him well. She certainly recognized the narrow-eyed look he’d gotten when he stared at her breasts. When they were young and in love, that heated gaze would’ve led to the bedroom, where he would’ve tested his theories on how long a human body could stand to be teased. Jessie had begun to think that the current tension between them—left over from their marriage—came from remembering what was and reacting to each other instinctively. She’d been trying to ignore it. The tension hadn’t gone away. It was getting worse, making her snappy and restless.
She knew that acting on the sexual connection, or whatever it was, would be a disaster. They had divorced for a lot of very good reasons. Maybe if they kissed for real, not just because she’d called him on his challenge, they would prove to themselves that what they remembered as amazing was actually ordinary. Before she talked herself out of it, she said, “Payson.”
“Yes,” he said but kept typing.
“Are you listening?” He nodded. “You know how you wait all year to go to the Pike’s Peak Fair for the fry bread, and you keep thinking about it and no other fry bread tastes as good. Then you go to the fair and you eat it, but it doesn’t taste all that good?”
“Let’s just pretend I understand.”
“What I’m saying is that you build something up in your mind as wonderful, as spectacular, but when you finally get it, it’s really just ordinary.” His head tilted, so she knew she had his full attention. “Well, you see, I’ve been thinking that maybe that’s what’s been happening here between us.”
“I’m hungry for fry bread?”
“No,” she said. She’d been an idiot to start this conversation. “You know, the tension, the remembering.” He didn’t say anything. “Maybe, if we kissed, we’d realize that it’s not that special anymore. That all of that is behind us.”
“You need to kiss
me to prove to yourself...what?” he asked. He shifted in the chair and rolled his shoulders again, something he did when he was tense.
“I’m looking at this the way you would, like a scientist. We were married. We’re not anymore, but we’re working together. We’re both remembering how it was, and it probably wasn’t like we remember anyway. We need to prove to ourselves that there’s nothing there. Nada.”
“The theory that you’d like to test is that if we kiss, we’ll discover that what we had was pretty ordinary?”
“Something like that. I’m just trying to be honest here. I know you feel the tension. I’ve seen those looks and I know what they mean. If we just kiss and get it out of the way, we’ll be good to go. We’ll have eaten the fry bread.”
“When would you like to conduct this experiment?”
“What about now?”
“That will be fine. Let me input these final numbers and then I’ll be ready,” he said, his voice calm as he twisted to face the computer.
Jessie paced so she wouldn’t stare at Payson and wouldn’t think about what they were going to do.
“Okay. Done,” he said. Had his voice cracked a little?
“Great,” she said, laughing nervously. “I’m glad we’re doing this. It will make working together so much easier.”
When they were standing facing each other, the foot of space between them quickly heated. A barely there tremor started in her feet and quickly reached her breasts. He put his hands around her upper arms, pulling her toward him, but not against him. Her lips parted, anticipating what would come next. He hesitated. She shifted closer, and he finally leaned in, touching his lips to hers, softly, like a first kiss.