The old gentleman smiled back to confirm the painlessness of the procedure making the best of unpleasant circumstances. “Now I know how my wife felt all those years ago when she was pregnant with our kids. I used to tease her about waddling like a duck—guess it’s come back to bite me in the ass. Now I’m the one with the wide load.”
“I’ve always thought women look great when they’re pregnant,” Gavin said.
“To each his own. I take it you have kids?”
Gavin’s bedside smile faded. “One.” He wondered how Patrick was doing, spending the weekend at his friend’s house. Even after a month of living together, Patrick seemed troubled and secretive and at times Gavin didn’t have a clue how to reach out to him. He loved his son, but no one had taught him how to be a father in medical school. And if they had handed out grades in parenting, he’d have to repeat the course. But he wouldn’t give up.
When Patrick had been a baby and toddler, Gavin had been a resident and had worked eighty-hour weeks, and though it had been the last thing he’d wanted, he’d hardly had time to spend with him. He’d missed Patrick’s first words and steps, and heaven only knew how many other things. He shook his head at his loss.
Too bad they didn’t offer do-overs for parents. But this time, while his ex-wife was away, he’d have a second chance. He didn’t intend to fail again. “I have a son who’s almost ten.”
“Be sure to spend lots of time with him. Boys need their fathers at that age.”
“Will do,” he said, intending to do just that.
Clamping the tubing off, he made a switch from one full bottle to another empty one, the third. He palpated Mr Ingersoll’s abdomen, which was growing softer and flabbier by the minute. Gavin glanced at the monitor above the bed. Sure enough, the patient’s oxygen saturation reading was coming up nicely. By the end of the procedure, he would no longer need supplementary oxygen.
After Carmen had marked the latest vital signs on the
Gavin wrote up notes stuck inside a makeshift clipboard. Up until now, he hadn’t had a spare moment to think about Beth and the crazy things she did to his libido and good sense. But now he let his mind drift to the woman who could make him howl at the moon by merely fluttering her thick brown lashes. He smiled and relaxed a tiny bit then quickly tensed.
What horrible timing. Bethany was a complication he didn’t need right now, but he couldn’t convince himself to forget her.
Patrick even liked her, which was a good sign. She and his son seemed to have great rapport, which would be important with any woman he wanted to date at this point in his life. But he didn’t want to date just any woman—he wanted to date Beth.
First he’d have to convince her to let down her guard. Something seemed to be bothering her. She’d been so tense and skittish when he’d first picked her up tonight, and he’d had to work extra hard to make her smile. But he’d finally broken through at the bar and later in the parking lot, where he’d thoroughly enjoyed the payoff, a goodnight kiss that practically set his socks on fire.
His pleasant thoughts were interrupted when Carmen rushed up to him. “Call for you. Patrick’s having another asthma attack.”
At ten a.m. on Saturday morning, Beth sat in her favorite spot in the tiny, one-bedroom apartment she called home.
Having completed her weekly checkin call to her mother, avoiding her “big news” by peppering her with small talk and arranging their monthly lunch date with her the next day, she dialed her friend Jillian.
Beth’s gray tabby, Lila, stretched to twice her normal length along the breakfast nook bench beside her. She pushed at Beth’s thigh with small pink paws and let out a little sound, leaving the tip of her tongue showing between her tiny front teeth. And though Beth didn’t have a whole lot to smile about today, she grinned and tickled the cat’s ears, chin, and belly until Jillian picked up on the fourth ring.
Caller ID had her friend jumping right in. “So what happened with the doc? Tell me.”
Beth smiled and lifted her coffee-mug for another sip of decaf, fully aware that Jillian wanted to hear all the dirty details of her date.
“Come on, spill. I couldn’t sleep I was so excited for you. What’s he like?”
“He’s actually very nice.” Beth combed her fingers through her hair. “Charming, in fact.”
“I’ve heard he’s incredible.”
Beth covered her eyes, squinting. “In what way? Does he sleep around a lot? Just how many nurses know how ‘incredible’ he is?”
“Now, don’t get all excited, it’s not like that. You know,
real man. Every woman in Urgent Care is curious what he’d be like.”
It wasn’t morning sickness, but Beth’s stomach flip-flopped. What had she been thinking? He had his son to take care of and the busiest ER in a fifty-mile radius to run. But under the circumstances, whether she liked it or not, she was bound to have a relationship with Gavin for the baby’s sake.
“Well, I’m not going to be your ‘source’ for gossip where Gavin Riordan is concerned. Don’t even think about repeating what I’m about to tell you.”
“I swear! You know I wouldn’t.”
“The truth is, he sweeps me off my feet and I find myself doing things I wouldn’t normally do and I don’t want to get…well…hurt.”
“Did you have sex again?”
“No!”
“Why can’t you just think of it as an adventure? Put a spin on it. Take him to bed again, enjoy yourself, then you be the one to dump him.”
Beth made an exasperated face. “Does that sound remotely like anything I would ever do, Jillian?” If only the problem was as simple as deciding to have sex with Gavin again.
“You did sleep with him before you knew who he was.”
Beth sighed. “Don’t remind me.” She glanced down at her stomach—the part of her body that would betray her circumstances soon enough—and prayed for more grace time. “Do not breathe a word of what I’m about to say to
“What? You know you can trust me. I only repeat other people’s gossip back to you. Not the other way around.”
Gossip. Oh, Lord. It would be inevitable.
“Right.” Beth shook her head and glanced toward the ceiling. Deep down, she knew she could trust Jillian with her secret, but something held her back.
Dead silence.
“Hello? Has our connection been cut?” Jillian asked impatiently.
“No.” Bethany finally found a word. Gavin deserved to know before she told anyone else, even her best friend. “He’s a fantastic kisser. The best I’ve ever known.”
“I knew it.”
“There’s one other thing.” Bethany turned her coffee-mug round and round on the table. “Listen, I just found out on Wednesday…I need to fill in for my mother at the soup kitchen tonight. They’re always short-staffed, and I desperately need your help.”
Later that afternoon, the institution-sized drably painted church kitchen on the corner of Highland and Franklin Avenue hummed with half a dozen people. Beth was thankful for the distraction. It had been a few months since she’d helped out, and had to follow one of the regulars around to get re-oriented. The helpers knew her mother, and how hard she had worked for the cause all these years in the soup kitchen, and treated Beth respectfully. Feeling a twinge of guilt, Beth wished she hadn’t drifted away over the last year.
Jillian stood on a stool and poured super-sized can after can of cut green beans into an enormous pot on the stove. Beth worried she’d fall or, worse, burn herself on the extra-large oven. The seasoned volunteer handed Beth three big bags of frozen chicken pieces. “Here. All you’ve got to do is lay them out on the pans and bake them for thirty minutes. They’re pre-seasoned.”
She glanced at the extra-large, multi-layered oven gratefully. Beth turned and almost bumped into another volunteer. Man, the place was crawling with bodies. She put on an apron to trick herself into thinking she knew what she was doing. At least it wasn’t complicated.
&nb
sp; A half-hour later the loyal crew of white-haired church regulars busied themselves with cleaning tables and putting folding chairs in place in the dining hall. Corn bread was stacked up on the counters. The steam table was turned on and ready to keep the food hot until it was served.
“OK, everybody, ten minutes and we’re ready to roll,” the lead volunteer called out.
A loud rapping on the back door snapped Beth out of her thoughts. She glanced at Jillian, who shrugged her shoulders and strode over to find out who it was. Jillian swung the door open and Beth saw Gavin standing outside, holding a huge box of assorted fresh fruit. Patrick stood beside him, struggling with a filled-to-the-brim paper bag.
Beth rushed to the door as Jillian stood looking stunned with a wide-eyed stare and open mouth.
“Dr Riordan?” Jillian finally asked.
“May we come in? These are heavy.”
“Of course.” Beth reached for Patrick’s bag, trying her
“I’ve brought enough fruit to feed a crowd. Will this be enough?”
“More than enough.”
He carefully placed the box on the closest countertop and turned back toward Beth, folding his arms in a take-charge manner. “I know a guy at the Gold Coast farmers’ market. I thought your guests might enjoy it. I can arrange for him to supply fresh fruit and veggies every week, if you’d like. Just say the word.”
“I can’t believe you.” Impressed with the gesture, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Distracted by his sexy appearance, she liked what she saw. If only things could be different. “I’m going to have Clarence, the lead volunteer, hold you to that offer.”
“No problem.” Gavin shot her a knowing grin. “I’m for real, sweetheart.” He leaned in closer. “Or should I say Sweet Cakes?” His teasing brown eyes almost made her drool. Instead, she cuffed him on the arm, rolled her eyes, and acted insulted.
Twenty minutes later, joy beamed from several diners’ faces as they savored, along with the beans, baked chicken and cornbread, assorted apples, nectarines, bananas and grapes, compliments of Gavin Riordan, M.D.
Beth stood in the kitchen, gazing out into the dining
One thing was for sure, the man caused excitement in her veins and a quickening of her heartbeat every time she saw him, and she didn’t seem to have any control over it. She’d love a chance to know him for who he was instead of having to find out how he’d react to her news. But it would be the true test of his character. All things considered, she’d still rather get to know him in a more traditional manner, like dating, rather than sharing parenthood.
Gavin looked especially tired today when he approached with a plate of food in each hand. “How about having dinner with me? I’ve reserved two seats in a cozy little corner right next to the biker with the bushy gray beard, the skinhead and the little old lady who seems to be having a conversation with my son.” He lifted his brows and made nice with his delicious brown eyes.
Beth wanted to purr like Lila.
He handed her a plate, nudged her lower back and said, “After we eat, I thought I’d set up an impromptu blood-pressure clinic here. You can help.”
Beth found out Gavin had pulled an overnighter at Mercy’s ER and had got an emergency call that Patrick had had another asthma flare-up. He’d driven down to Irvine, where Patrick had spent the night with his friend, administered a breathing treatment and brought his son home early that morning.
After such a tough night and long day, why would he bother to come here?
After dinner, Gavin brought in his doctor’s bag,
“What made you come here today?” she asked.
“I tried to take a nap this afternoon.” He palpated the neck of an elderly man, then felt his thyroid. “And suddenly your face came to me. I thought it was an omen or something.” He flashed his penlight up the man’s nostrils, then asked him to say “Ah” and looked down his throat.
She shook her head while studying him. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but still managed to be devastatingly handsome.
“Mr Stanley, I want you to come to the Mercy Hospital ER tomorrow. Your lymph nodes are swollen and you need more tests.”
“I don’t have health insurance,” the man said.
“You come to the ER and we’ll take care of you. Here.” He fished out his business card. “Tell them Dr Riordan sent you.”
The man agreed, took Gavin’s card and left.
In between patients, Beth said, “That omen stuff was such a crock.”
He grinned. “Very perceptive. Here’s the deal.” Gavin peeled off his disposable gloves and donned another pair preparing for the next patient. “I need you to teach Patrick about his asthma. I thought if I bribed you by bringing a boatload of fruit, you might come home with us and do your spiel.”
“Wow.” Beth focused in on the elevated blood pressure
“I went to the free clinic when I first got pregnant.”
“Gavin, can you check this out?”
Beth switched arms and rechecked the blood pressure reading. It was still elevated.
“Are you watching your salt intake?” Beth asked.
The woman shrugged.
“Are you eating a lot of fast food?”
“It’s cheap, and I’m hungry a lot.”
“It’s cheaper to buy fresh food and cook it yourself,” Beth said.
“I don’t have a kitchen where I stay. Besides, I don’t know how to cook.”
Fighting off a wave of depression, all Beth could think to do was pat the young woman’s hand and smile empathetically at her. Gavin pressed on her ankles and noticed she had pitting edema. “How long have your feet and ankles been this way?”
“What way?”
“Swollen.”
“I dunno.”
“Your blood pressure is borderline, and you need to find out if your blood sugar is elevated. Are you diabetic?”
“Dia—what?”
“Gina, what do you think about paying a visit to the free clinic’s urgent care tonight?” Gavin asked.
“I don’t have any way of getting there.”
One of the gray-haired volunteers, who’d been intently following the progress, spoke up. “I’ll be glad to drive you.”
Gavin nodded to the young woman. “I think it’s a good idea that you go. You might need to be on blood-pressure medicine, and the doctors need to check out the progress of your baby. What do you say?”
“Can I finish my dinner first?”
Gavin gave a benevolent smile. “Of course.” He turned to the volunteer. “That’s very kind of you to offer to drive her. Thank you.”
“That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? To help each other out.”
“You’re right about that.”
“Hey, Doc, any chance you could do this once a month?”
Gavin glanced around at the makeshift clinic, an idea flashing in his eyes. “You know, I can probably get some of the first-year med students who need community service over here every month. I’ll get back to you on that.” He handed out another business card and they shook hands.
Seeing no one else in line, Gavin packed up his bag. Beth replaced the BP monitor in its case. Touched by his willingness to examine several of the homeless and downtrodden and arrange for future clinics, she had a change of heart about his earlier offer.
“You know I want to help Patrick, but do you need me tonight?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t really concerned. His attacks seem to be getting worse and closer together. I know how to treat them, but I want him to learn how to take control. You know, to empower him over his condition.”
How could she refuse? The boy needed to get his
Gavin shot out of his chair. “I’ll help.”
“Oh, no. You’ve done enough already and, besides, you’ve been up all night. I couldn’t possibly let you do that.” Beth scanned the white-haired crew.
“Just tell me what to do,” he said.
She asked the le
ader, a frail, hunched-over, seventy-ish man, what they both could do.
“Well, you can sweep the floors.”
Gavin looked surprised.
The old guy shoved a broom in Gavin’s hand. “After that you can mop.”
Beth gave Gavin a surprised, apologetic smile.
He grinned back at her. “I happen to be very skilled at mopping floors. I worked as a janitor one semester during college.” He looked back at the old man. “Have they got the big rolling bucket with the mop wringer thingy here?”
“Of course. You’re a real inspiration, Doc. Follow me.” The man stopped and looked at Beth. “You go help wash the dishes.”
She set Patrick up with the fun water spray detail and had him rinse off all the dishes before she stacked them into the institution-style dishwasher, the way she’d been shown.
An hour later, all the volunteers had left except the leader, and cleanup was almost finished. Beth was trying to find the pantry door key when she heard Jillian’s cackle.
The floor had been mopped and looked spotless. In the corner sat Gavin on two folding chairs, one for his feet and one for his behind, with his head hung over the back, slack jawed and sound asleep. He’d mopped himself into the corner and must have decided to wait while the floor dried. The sight was endearingly funny. Beth fought a crazy urge to kiss him awake.
“Patrick,” she said. “Go wake your father. It’s time to leave.”
The boy did so. “Dad!” Not at all what she’d had in mind for waking up the poor man.
Gavin sat straight up, snapping back into consciousness. “What?” He wiped his face with both hands, grimaced and tried to focus on where he was. Patrick giggled.
Gavin squinted and looked beyond his son to concentrate on Beth’s face. “I’m fine.”
She walked across the room. “Here’s the plan,” she said before he could say another word. “I’ll drop Jillian off at home, go get my patient education bag and meet you at your house.”
“But I want dessert,” Patrick said.
“No problem. I’ll bring some cookies with me.”
Pregnant Nurse, New-Found Family Page 5