But her mood was improving dramatically, sitting here in the back kitchen at Avery’s House. Again, she’d expected to feel a little bit left out among these forever-friends, but to her surprise, once again, she didn’t. They easily brought her into the conversation, curious about her life before Echo Lake.
When she recounted the tale of her ill-fated ski vacation at Smugglers’ Notch ski resort, where first she’d met the three college guys who’d plucked her out of a snowbank—and then had met the ski patrol who had ferried her and her broken ankle to the lodge, all four of them were laughing.
“This is why I’ll never feel like a real Vermonter. You people are on skis before you know how to walk.”
Josie patted her arm. “Not all of us.”
“Exactly.” Ethan nodded. “Some of us are born on snowshoes.”
Delaney shivered. “I can’t even imagine how much damage I could do in those. I think I’ll stick to my skates.”
“I always wanted to learn how to skate.” Josie held up her wineglass. “Maybe you could teach me this winter?”
Delaney smiled. She asked it so easily, like she expected Delaney might still be a part of their little crew next winter. It gave her the proverbial warm-fuzzies, and she found herself lifting her glass to tap Josie’s.
“I’d be happy to.”
Just then a beeper sounded, and when she realized it was coming from Joshua’s waist, the warm feeling evaporated.
He sighed, checking the readout, then frowning apologetically. “Excuse me for a minute. I need to call the hospital.”
He pushed through the screen door to the backyard, and Delaney watched him put his phone to his ear, talking and shaking his head. She pulled her eyes away to find Josie looking at her intently while Ethan brought their plates to the huge white farmhouse sink under the window.
“So,” Josie finally said, putting her glass to her lips. “I’m sensing that you have more than a passing business interest in our dear Joshua.”
“God, Josie.” Ethan shook his head as he grabbed the spaghetti bowl.
“Has he by any chance taken you to the lake?”
Ethan rolled his eyes as Delaney gulped. “Josie, seriously. Stop interrogating her.”
“I’m just asking! As a friend!”
“You’re asking because Molly told you to get the scoop.”
“She did not.” Josie pouted playfully.
“Josie?” He put his hands on his hips, eyebrows hiked, which made Delaney laugh. She couldn’t help it.
“Okay, fine. She totally did.” She turned back to Delaney. “So what’s the scoop?”
“I—I don’t know. No scoop, really?”
Oh, holy awkwardness.
“You remember I’m a therapist, right?” Josie tipped her head, smiling invitingly.
Delaney nodded. “Yes, and that scares me more than a little bit right now.”
“Good girl.” Ethan laughed. “Don’t let her get her tentacles into you. You might never survive it.”
“Shut up, Ethan. Even you can see there’s something going on here.”
“Whether I do or don’t is none of my business.” He leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. “And it’s not yours, either. Leave the poor girl alone, or Josh will never dare to bring her here again.”
“Okay.” She sat back, playfully defeated. “But just one question. Has he taken you to the lake?”
Delaney sat back, matching her pose. “One question back at you—why is that question so important?”
Ethan chuckled at the sink, but didn’t say anything.
Josie eyed her carefully, then picked up her glass and stood up. “Don’t break his heart, okay? That’s all.”
As she went to the sink, Delaney shook her head. Break his heart? Seriously? Like she had the power to even do that?
“I have no intention of breaking anybody’s heart, just to be clear.”
“Good”—Josie smiled—“because if you did, you’d never be able to step foot inside Bellinis again without Molly doing you in, and I’d be kind of bummed if that happened. I like you.”
As Delaney laughed, Joshua came back through the screen door, and she could see from his face that he was going to announce that he had to leave.
“You have to go?” She tried to keep even a slight tone of hurt out of her voice. After all, he didn’t owe her anything. This wasn’t a date, really. He’d invited her to a casual dinner with friends. She had no claim on his evening. And he didn’t have backup at the hospital right now because they were so short-staffed. It wasn’t his fault he kept getting pulled away.
But it was his life.
And as they pulled out of the Avery’s House driveway and headed back to the hospital, where he dropped her off beside her car in the parking lot, she tried to keep that firmly in mind.
If she got in any deeper, this would be her life, too—aborted evenings, broken promises, lonely nights.
* * *
“I’m sorry to drag you away from dinner.” Millie was shaking her head as he strode down the hallway toward the nurses’ station. “But she’s a mess. Doesn’t want to go home tomorrow, won’t do her therapies tonight, won’t even talk to anybody.”
Josh stopped to lean on the counter, thinking. Poor Charlotte. The girl was headed home to a double-wide trailer where the water got turned off monthly, along with the electricity. She shared a tiny bedroom with four other siblings, and he knew that during the school year, the family’s weekend food came mostly by way of charity backpacks sent home from school.
He didn’t fault her parents. They were doing their best. They both worked more than full-time, both worked more than one job. But none of those jobs came with benefits, and all of them came with minimum wage. Raising a seven-person family on that kind of money just wasn’t possible.
While she was here at Mercy, Charlotte almost always had her own room, she had good, hot meals, and she got lots of attention she sorely needed. Once she was home, she’d fade into the cheap paneling again until she got sick enough to need hospitalization.
Because she would. She’d be back here in a matter of months, and every time she came, she was a little bit sicker than the time before. Every time, it was a little bit harder to get her back to her previous baseline. One of these times, they weren’t going to be able to at all.
By the time her parents got home late at night, she was asleep. They left before daybreak, leaving the kids to find breakfast and get themselves on the school bus. Charlotte might get a couple of chest PT sessions over the weekend, but not always, and she desperately needed them at least daily. She had a vest that mimicked the PT, but it only worked when there was actual electricity to fuel it.
He sighed. “Ever wish you could adopt a couple of these kids, Millie?”
“Daily.”
“What are we going to do?”
“I did notice her cough has increased over the past twenty-four hours.” Millie looked to her left, not meeting his eyes.
“Truly?”
Millie shrugged, not answering. “You and I both know that girl’s not going to get a whit of therapy once she leaves here. Maybe a few more days would set her up for a better discharge? I could get Kenderly involved a little more, maybe?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe even Delaney? Charlotte has taken to her like nobody else.”
Joshua smiled, picturing Delaney sitting on Charlotte’s bed braiding her hair while they discussed—well, whatever they discussed. Then his smile faded as he pictured Delaney’s face this evening when his beeper had gone off. Again.
She’d tried to hide it, but he’d seen a defeated expression erase her easygoing smile before she had a chance to tamp it down and pretend his leaving didn’t bother her. He knew the look. He’d seen that same expression on other women he’d dated—hell, he’d sure seen it enough on Nicole. Before tonight, it had irritated him. He was a doctor, after all. Carrying a beeper and being called away from casual events happened. It was part of the
drill.
But this time, he hadn’t felt irritated. Instead, he’d felt bad. Seeing the fleeting disappointment on her face had cut him like never before, and the strangest feeling had come over him.
Because as it turned out, he didn’t want to disappoint her. He didn’t want her to feel like anything was more important than her, in that moment. In any moment, really.
And holy hell, that was a revelation that scared him right down to his size tens.
Chapter 23
“Squee! Did you see it yet?” Megan barged into Delaney’s office Friday morning, waving the day’s copy of the Boston Globe.
Delaney blinked hard, tearing her eyes away from her in-box, which had somehow accumulated one hundred new e-mails since yesterday. Her heart was currently at war with her brain, and she was so distracted that she hadn’t managed to knock off any of them.
“Look! It’s Amanda’s second article!” Megan flopped the paper on top of Delaney’s keyboard, opened to the headline. “E-mail can wait!”
Delaney picked up the paper, feeling her smile grow as she read each paragraph. Holy cow. Amanda had gone gangbusters here, somehow managing to squeeze in some information about every single one of the programs Delaney had listed for her.
“Wow,” she said, putting the paper down. “We couldn’t have paid for better PR.”
“Exactly.” Megan sat down, handing Delaney half of her croissant. “I think we should send her flowers.”
Just then, Kevin poked his head in. “What are you gals so excited about?”
Megan turned toward him, picking up the paper. “Did you see this article?”
“What article?” He stepped in, eyebrows pulling together.
“On pediatrics.” Megan shared a wink with Delaney while he took the newspaper. “It’s so great! The reporter was here last week, and she put together this great Friday edition profile. It’s going to be read by”—she turned to Delaney—“what do you think—thousands of people?”
“Oh, at least. And she has colleagues doing their own local features, so I think this is the first of many.” Delaney shrugged carelessly, biting her cheek so she wouldn’t smile triumphantly. There was a serious flush gathering on Kevin’s neck, creeping toward his ears as he read the article.
Megan gushed again, obviously noticing the effect as well. “Isn’t it great? I’m going to make sure all of the board members get a copy.”
The flush reached his ears and engulfed his cheeks.
Delaney nodded. “That’s a great idea. They work so hard—it’d be good for them to see all of their efforts paying off with this amazing publicity. Right, Kevin?”
“Sure. Right. Yes.” He shook his head. “How did this reporter find out about all this stuff? All of these programs and everything?”
Delaney shrugged again. “She asked.”
“Who did she interview?”
“Nurses, doctors, patients—the whole gamut, looks like.” Delaney worked to keep the triumphant tone out of her voice as she watched him seethe, but try not to show it. She could practically see the wheels turning inside his head, wondering how Delaney had grabbed the department destined to get the best PR. He had no idea how hard she’d worked for that PR, however. Nor would he find out, if it was up to her.
“Wonder why she focused so hard on pediatrics?” He shoved a hand through his hair, actually interrupting the gel job. Delaney smiled. He never messed with the hair.
“Two things, I imagine. Our pediatric programming is excellent, and she was looking for a human-interest angle. With this story, she got both.”
Megan smiled. “And cute kids, to boot.”
“Well, this is—this is great.” He tried to manufacture a smile, but it hardly reached his mouth, let alone the rest of his face.
“Isn’t it, though?” Delaney smiled back. “Did you see the story the other night on Channel Five?”
“No. What was it about?”
“Same, actually. Seems pediatrics has captured the interest of the local press—and now even the Boston press. The tie-in to Avery’s House is almost irresistible.”
“Why now? Why all the sudden attention?” His voice was definitely suspicious, and Delaney figured she’d better pull back and come up with a quick cover story.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “You know the media—never can tell.”
“Huh.”
He stood there for a long moment, and if he wasn’t such a jerk, Delaney might have worked up a smidgeon of sympathy for the guy. Was he wondering how this publicity would play into the board’s budget decisions? How it would affect his own proposals?
Megan tipped her head graciously. “You can have that copy if you’d like. I have plenty more.”
He looked at it like it might bite, then folded it and shoved it under his arm. “So how’s your budget proposal coming, Delaney?”
“Just fine, thanks.” Delaney put on her brightest smile. “And yours?”
“Excellent.” His fake smile was tight. “Despite the fact that nobody gifted me with departments I could put on the news.”
“With all due respect, I’m not sure I would call pediatrics a gift. Cutting funding to kids is pretty much the worst straw either of us could have drawn.”
“So you’re going for the sympathy vote, then? Is that your strategy?”
Delaney sat back in her chair, taking a deep, silent breath. She needed to tread carefully here. “I’m just doing my job, Kevin. As I’m sure you are.”
He tapped the paper on her door frame. “My departments can’t operate on any less than they already are.”
“Neither can mine.”
“I guess it’ll be up to the board to decide that, won’t it?” Kevin looked at his watch, taking one step out the door. “I’ll be out for the afternoon, if anyone needs me.”
Delaney tipped her head. “I honestly find it astounding that you can take this much time off in the middle of this budget crisis.”
He raised his chin defiantly. “You have your methods, I have mine.”
* * *
“Millie, do you know if Delaney’s been down here this morning?” Joshua found her in the break room an hour later, pouring a cup of coffee.
“She’s in with Charlotte. Those two have been giggling for an hour now. If I didn’t know better, I’d think maybe that woman belongs with kids, not upstairs crunching numbers. She’s got a gentle touch—kids like Charlotte and Ian respond to her.” Millie rolled her eyes as she poured creamer into her cup. “And you know I don’t say things like that lightly. You also know I wasn’t planning to like her one little bit.”
He smiled. “She’s growing on you?”
“I’m not the only one she’s—growing on.”
“I know. Charlotte’s under her spell, too.”
Millie raised her eyebrows. “We’re hardly talking about Charlotte.”
Josh shook his head, moving to the coffeepot. He had a feeling he was about to get an earful, and despite the fact that he couldn’t get Delaney out of his head for more than five minutes straight, he didn’t want to talk about it with his head nurse. Late last night, when he’d finally rolled home from the hospital and realized it was too late to even call her, let alone try to see her, he’d sat alone in his living room, frustrated and more depressed than he’d ever want to admit.
There was no question that he and Delaney had chemistry. No question that the two of them together would be like fireworks. But the fear and defeat he’d seen in her eyes last night had just about killed him. He couldn’t play games with her—couldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.
But hell, it’d sure be easier to stick to that if he didn’t want her so damn badly.
“Don’t go playing matchmaker, Millie.”
“Are you about to tell me you don’t have time for a relationship?”
“I don’t. You know my schedule. It wouldn’t be fair to pretend I have any extra hours in my life.” As he said it, his chest squeezed a little. But it was true, r
ight? “Neither Delaney nor I have time to do any more than hang out casually once in a while.”
“Then make time.”
He paused, throwing her a sidelong glance. “Millie, how many hours do you work?”
“Too many,” she grumbled. “And you work even more than me. That’s exactly my point.”
He shook his head again. “What’s exactly your point?”
“My point is that if you keep waiting around for timing to be perfect, you’re going to be a lonely old man before you know it.”
“Oh.” He laughed, but it wasn’t convincing. “Is that all?”
“Not funny, doc. I’m serious. Your current life plan—correct me if I’m wrong—is to work yourself to the bone here at Mercy until Doc Sullivan or Doc McIntosh retires, or until there’s a sudden influx of children in Echo Lake. And then you’ll finally have your own practice, right?”
“Right.” He smiled at the thought of regular hours, maybe two employees, lots of adorable families with even more adorable kids.
She sat down. “Have you actually thought about what it’d be like to be a single-doc practice?”
“Yes. All the time.” He sipped his coffee, wincing as it burned his tongue. “Why?”
“I’m just thinking.” She motioned for him to sit down at the creaky table with her. “Let’s look at a day in the life, shall we?”
“Okay.” He sat down, humoring her. “Let’s.”
“So it’s July. We’ve got, say, three sports physicals, maybe four or five infant slots, and maybe a swimmer’s ear or a sprained wrist, right?”
“Sure.”
“Times, say, five, right? Because in order to make an actual living, you’ll have to get your time slots down to about five to ten minutes per patient?”
“No. No way.”
“Have you done this math?”
He rolled his eyes, but didn’t answer.
“Okay, now.” She raised her eyebrows. “Let’s move on to February. Still a few physicals, some infants, some hockey and gymnastics injuries. But dum-dum-dum. Then the flu hits.”
Heart Like Mine Page 20