“My dear, history and contribution do not make the person. It’s a happening. A circumstance. God is the center of our lives. He is what’s important. Remember the verse in Proverbs. ‘Rich and poor have this in common: The Lord is the Maker of them all.’”
“Yes. I know that verse well.”
The conversation halted as the waiter presented their meals. Kate paused to calm her ragged nerves. Liza’s probing had set her on edge…and she sensed Liza had more on her mind.
But what? She had no idea.
Adam tried to hold a conversation with his parents, but he struggled to concentrate. Other things pressed on his mind. He felt stronger after a few days of the IV therapy, and he’d escaped septic shock and pneumonia. He hadn’t avoided, however, having his heart captured by a woman who didn’t seem to give a hoot about him.
Since Kate’s return to her nursing position, he’d missed her even though she worked on his floor. For the past two days, she’d seemed to ignore him. The whole situation puzzled him. He found himself watching the corridor, hoping to see Kate flit past.
Seeing a flash of white outside the doorway, he watched, hoping Kate would drop by. Disappointment settled in when a young nurse hurried past.
No Kate.
His mother caught his look and followed his gaze. “Where’s Kate today?”
“She’s busy with other patients.” He tried to hide his dejection. “She’s back working on the floor now.”
“Yes, she told me. We had a very nice lunch on Sunday,” Liza said.
“Who?”
“Kate and I.”
“You and Kate had lunch? Where?”
“At the country club. We had a lovely talk.”
Adam held his breath. His mother was a born matchmaker and the thought made him more uncomfortable than the sepsis that had wracked his body.
“Kate’s agreed to help out with the Galilee Women’s Shelter fund-raiser.”
“Fund-raiser.” Adam’s spirit lifted for a fleeting moment. He knew his mother too well to think it had stopped there. Concern spiked his flash of comfort. “You took her to lunch to talk about the fund-raiser. That’s it?”
Her face brightened with a telling smile. “Naturally, we talked about you.”
Adam gave his father a pleading look, but Frank only shrugged.
“Naturally.” His heart sank and Kate’s recent change in attitude fell into place. “And what did you discuss about me?”
Looking at his mother’s face, he knew in his gut she’d gone too far again. “You didn’t ask her how she felt about me, did you?”
She didn’t respond for a moment. “Not exactly.”
“Mother, will you learn not to get involved—?” A tremor raced over his limbs, and he felt perspiration bead on his forehead. He swallowed his misery and continued. “When will you learn not to get involved in our lives? If Kate had feelings for me, you’d scare her away.” And that’s what had happened. He knew it.
Frank stirred, pacing to the windows and back. “Liza, you know how the children feel. Why do you keep trying to marry them off?”
“Because,” she said, her voice rising in defense, “Adam is fond of Kate. I see it. I’m his mother, and I know these things.”
Adam opened his mouth, wishing the delirium that had captured him earlier would return.
His mother bent over him, searching his eyes. “You can’t deny it, Adam. Why can’t I encourage her to overlook your shortcomings?”
“Overlook my…” He gave up.
Adam spotted his father’s defeated gaze and swallowed his frustration. What would he do without them?
The next afternoon, Adam lay alone, his thoughts in turmoil. He knew he’d made a mistake admitting his feelings to Kate, and worse, letting his mother see it in his face.
Kate filled his every thought. Where had those amazing sensations come from? Maybe Kate was right. She had called him spoiled and said he enjoyed the personal attention, but he didn’t think so. She’d meant more to him than that.
For one thing, she’d helped him focus on what was important. In his moaning and groaning, he’d forgotten to lean on the Lord. He was trying to do that now but, he had to admit, his promise had grown worse instead of better.
A chill shuddered down his back, and he clamped his jaw closed to contain the sensation that swept over him. He was a physician. Adam recognized a problem, and he had one. He’d felt hot earlier; now ice ran through his veins.
He’d gotten one injection on top of another. But why? He still felt miserable. His mind wavered in a daze, and his chest felt paralyzed. If he had the strength, he would pound the walls to get someone to listen. He’d pushed the nurse call button earlier and no one had come. Change of shift, he’d figured. Adam knew he should be feeling better, not worse.
And Kate. She’d turned her back on him when he needed her. He trusted Kate’s opinion. She knew her business. Kate was a top-notch nurse.
His body tingled and he struggled to remain conscious. Think. Focus. He willed himself to be alert. He needed help.
Please. Kate. I need you. Adam rolled his head against the pillow.
His sweet Kate. He clung to her image. He wanted her for more than her nursing skills. It had taken a tragedy to make him realize that Kate meant the world to him.
In the midst of his muddled thoughts, Adam saw a flicker at the doorway. He pulled himself from the haze and saw Kate watching him.
“Are you okay?”
“No. I’m not.”
“If you need something, I’ll tell your nurse. What is it?”
A numbing sensation rolled through his limbs and he grasped his chest, willing away the disturbing feeling. Perspiration beaded his forehead, yet he’d begun to tremble. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
He tried to look at her but his vision blurred.
“I’m not avoiding you. I’m back to work. I have my own patient load. If you need something, I’ll tell your nurse.”
“I’m feeling very odd, Kate. Something’s definitely wrong.”
She raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “I’ll get your nurse.”
He studied her through the haze. “I’m not joking, Kate.”
“Look, Adam, do you need some pain meds? Is that it?”
“I just had an injection…again. I’m having a bad reaction to something.”
“Who’s your nurse today?”
His attitude startled her. She thought he was vying for her attention. Today it was more than that. He enjoyed her fussing over him, but today something was seriously wrong.
She shrugged. “I’ll get someone.”
Defeat crushed him as he watched Kate turn away. Since he’d let her know how he felt—and then his mother’s intervention—she’d pulled away. He wasn’t imagining it. She’d changed. Not that she hadn’t been attentive with him when he was her patient, but she wasn’t his Kate.
The icy feeling rolled through him again. Adam fumbled to draw the blanket around his neck, praying the unnerving sensation would pass. He tried to breathe. His lungs seemed empty. No air. The room spun. He felt light-headed.
Adam aimed his clouded eyes toward the door, praying Kate would return. Anyone. He attempted to organize his thoughts. Being a surgeon, he should be able to diagnose his illness by the symptoms. Something…but he couldn’t think.
Instead of Kate, his mother came through the doorway in a blur. The only color that registered was the green in her volunteer’s smock that wavered in and out of his vision. She gave him a little wave as she approached, then she faltered.
“Adam? You look terrible.”
She hurried forward and pressed her palm against his face. “You’re ice cold, and you’re perspiring.”
“I—I…I’m…I think they…gave m-me—” His words slurred and his mind failed him. His mother’s panicked face wove in and out of focus.
“Gave you what?” She hovered over him, worry distorting her features. “You’re deathly white. I’m frightened, A
dam. I’ll get a nurse.” She stepped away.
“Get K-Kate,” Adam whispered, forming the words in his mouth though his voice seemed to float above him.
Liza darted toward the doorway, the green cloth of her jacket appearing as dark billows ready to wash over him like a tidal wave. Colors faded to misty gray, and a buzz hummed in his ears. He gasped for a breath but his lungs seemed frozen.
He felt paralyzed.
“Dear Lord,” he prayed, “help me.”
Chapter Ten
Fiona’s Stagecoach Café was busy on Monday afternoon when Sam steered Colleen to a corner table. Fiona gave them a cheerful wave and pranced to their table with the coffeepot.
“How are you, Colleen? It’s been a long time since you’ve dropped in.”
“I’m fine, Aunt Fiona.” She motioned toward Sam. “You know Sam Vance.”
“I sure do. He’s one of my best customers.”
“I keep coming back for that famous apple pie of yours,” Sam said. He figured Fiona liked her pie, too, noting her rounded form like a figure eight. “Any left?”
Her brown eyes sparkled, and she flashed him a wink. “Always pie for you, Sam.” She lifted the carafe. “Coffee?”
“Sure thing.”
Fiona picked up his mug, then used her arm to brush her bright red hair from her eyes while balancing the scalding hot coffee carafe above him.
Sam leaned away, waiting for a catastrophe, but none happened, and Fiona only laughed as she poured the brew.
“A waitress will be here in a minute. The special today is a smoked salmon Caesar salad.” She eyed the kitchen door. “Now I’d better get back there and keep an eye on the help.”
Sam watched as she made her way through the tables, greeting customers and topping off coffee, before he turned to Colleen.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said, unfolding the paper napkin and placing it on his lap.
Colleen grinned, her cropped blond hair spiked in unruly directions. “Happy to. Don’t forget, you’re buying me lunch.”
“Guess I am.”
She paused and gave him the once-over. “You’re a good-looking man, Sam. If you weren’t a friend of my brother’s, I might make a play for you.”
Sam didn’t know how to respond to her flirtatious words, so he took a swig of coffee. He thought of Colleen as one of the Montgomery boys although he had to admit she was a woman. No doubt about it.
Before any more was said, the waitress arrived. “Ready?” she asked.
“Colleen?” Sam said, remembering to be polite. He ate with his partner so often, he could easily forget good etiquette.
“I’ll have the salad…with grilled chicken.” She turned up her nose. “I don’t like salmon,” she whispered.
Sam waited while the woman jotted down the order, until she looked at him. “Roasted pork green chili.”
“That’s it?” the woman asked.
“And coffee,” he said, motioning to his cup.
She scribbled it on her pad and left.
Sam turned and eyed the folder Colleen had placed on the corner of the table. “So what do you have for me?”
“Not sure this will help, but I got a good story out of it. My editor’s pleased. Anytime you have a story line, don’t be afraid to suggest it.”
Delaying her answer bugged him. Sam wanted facts. “Tell me what you’re hoarding in that file.” He pointed a finger at the manila folder.
Colleen grinned and flipped it open. “Here’s what I think you want.”
She handed him the sheet of notes, and he scanned the information, his pulse throbbing like a police siren. Names, nicknames, drugs references and possible drug-buy locations. He eyed her over the paper. “How did you get all this?”
“It wasn’t easy, but when women are abused and frustrated, some are willing to talk. They’re tired of their lives, but afraid to say too much. Like you said, they would never talk with the police, but I was a reporter who promised to not use names…and I’m a woman. They trust me.”
“I didn’t think you’d get this much,” Sam said, regarding the volume of information she had provided.
She tapped the manila folder. “Desperation creates brilliance. Women fighting for their lives listen. They nose around. Telephone conversations. Scribbled notes left behind. They’d rather learn it’s drugs than another woman. Sad, but in this case, informative.” She tossed her head showing her confidence.
Sam gave the paper a whack with the back of his hand. “You did great.” The information arranged itself in his mind. With it, he might obtain cooperation from one of the men involved in the saloon fight. The department could make some real progress then. The witness was still in the hospital and not happy to be there. Once Sam let him know they had names and places, he may spit out what he’d refused to tell earlier.
Colleen leaned back, eyeing him. “Glad I could help.”
Sam folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.
Colleen took a sip from her glass and leaned closer. “By the way, did you notice the reference to Vance Memorial in my notes?” She motioned toward his pocket.
“Vance Memorial?” He felt a frown settle on his face and reached in and withdrew the paper. He scanned the contents. Vance Memorial. His pulse skipped at the notation.
“Surprised?” Colleen asked. “I was.”
“Shocked is more like it.” He read the reference again. Three women had made notes hearing, “Vance Memorial,” in telephone conversations between husbands and drug dealers.
“What do you think? Is someone slipping drugs out of the hospital?”
Sam’s mind zinged with prospects. If it were true, it put a whole new spin on the situation in Venezuela. “I’m not sure.” But it was something he’d investigate. He could check with Records and talk with the burglary division. He rubbed his chin while his brain shot out possibilities.
Colleen’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Or the theft might have been kept in house… You know, someone was afraid to let the world know that Vance Memorial got careless with their drugs.”
Sam had considered that, too. “Could be. Then again, maybe it’s nothing.”
Colleen shrugged. “Anyway, do what you will with it. I hope it helps.”
Sam refolded the paper and tucked it back into his pocket.
The waitress came and slid their orders onto the table and slipped away, promising to return with more coffee.
While his thoughts whirled, Sam took a spoonful of chili, then scanned the café crowd. His gaze came to a dead halt when he spotted Alistair Barclay seated in a back booth. As always, the hotel mogul was accompanied by a well-dressed woman, too plastered with makeup for an afternoon luncheon. Sam caught the twinkle of a handful of diamonds—or cubic zirconia—but he’d never know the difference.
The woman’s crossed legs toyed with Barclay’s beneath the table and the man chucked her under the chin, then brushed his hand over his reddish plastered-down comb-over.
Something about him grated Sam’s nerves. Maybe his overdone British accent or his gray eyes that peered below bushy brows. Whatever, Sam felt wary of the man who’d walked into Colorado Springs three years earlier and started buying up prime property at top dollar and putting up luxury hotels. Sam despised what he’d done to the Montgomerys. He almost sensed a personal vendetta, but that didn’t make sense.
“What’s wrong?” Colleen asked, glancing over her shoulder.
“Alistair Barclay is with another one of his flashy ladies over there.”
He tilted his head in their direction and Colleen let her gaze drift toward his nod.
She looked at Sam and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know the man, but I’ve heard enough about him. I hate what he’s doing to our family. From what Dad says, he’s sure stealing the business away from Montgomery Construction.”
“I know. I wish he’d take his playboy antics and move to some other town. We don’t need his kind here. He should head back to Britain where he belongs.
”
“Sorry to disillusion you, Sam. I remember when the Sentinel made a big deal out of Barclay getting his U.S. citizenship. He’s not likely to head back to England now.”
The food stuck in Sam’s chest like a wad of clay and he was sorry he’d let himself get riled over Barclay. Between Barclay and the information in his pocket, the day had turned dark.
Kate raced into the hospital room with Liza on her heels. As soon as she saw Adam again, she knew he was in trouble. Without delay, she rammed the call button. She heard the static from the nurses’ station.
“A physician. Stat.” Her voice pierced the air.
Tears welled in her eyes. Adam could be dying. But why? What had happened?
“Breathe, Adam,” she called. “Take a deep breath.”
She fought to remain calm, not wanting to frighten Adam’s mother, who hovered beside her.
“He’ll be fine,” Kate said, to reassure Liza. “Once the doctor arrives, he’ll be okay.”
Heavenly Father, Kate cried out in silence, be with him. Save him.
Liza sank into the chair beside her son and clung to his hand. “Do as Kate says, Adam. Take a deep breath.”
Footsteps pounded in the corridor, and Kate stepped aside as Dr. Fletcher and his team raced through the doorway.
“Clear the room, ladies,” he ordered.
Liza bounded from the chair and bumped into Kate as they backed toward the exit. Kate watched Robert Fletcher grab his chart and flip to the last page. He scanned the sheet, concern charging across his face. The chart tumbled to the floor.
“Naloxone. Stat.”
Naloxone. Kate heard the word. An antidote for a narcotics overdose. Fear glued her to the floor. Her heart thundered, imagining the possibilities. Adam’s respiration would slow and stop unless…
Guilt and fear overwhelmed her. If she’d been his nurse, nothing would have happened. How did he overdose? Who could have made such a horrible error?
Kate pulled herself together for Liza’s sake. “Let’s go to the nurses’ station and wait there. They need space to work.” She curved her arm around the woman’s shoulders and steered her away from the dire scene. Though Kate’s feet led her down the hallway, her heart stayed with Adam.
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