Taking Chances

by Taylor, Janelle

  While looking at a paper in his right hand, he asked in a casual tone, “What is your meal schedule?”

  “Breakfast at eight, lunch at twelve, snack at three-thirty, dinner at six, and snack at nine to ten. I have forty-two carbos with one optional protein and fat at breakfast; sixty-two carbos, one protein, and one optional fat at lunch; one carbo for snack; sixty-six carbos, two to three proteins, and two optional fats at dinner; and one carbo and an optional alcoholic drink as a snack. I also have a free-foods and drinks list.”

  “That’s what your doctor’s instructions say, so no problem there.”

  Had he been testing her? There was no need; she had memorized those required quantities of carbohydrates, proteins, and fats, and always ate properly and on schedule. “I changed my car clock to local time, but kept my watch on Georgia time to prevent mistakes.”

  As he observed her for mood changes and reactions, he asked, “Did you correct it when you crossed the New Mexico line this morning?”

  “Yes, at Texico when I stopped at the welcome center to pick up tourist brochures on Carlsbad and White Sands. According to my watch, I should have eaten lunch at twelve. When I left Portales, I had ample time to reach Roswell, but got delayed, as you know.”

  “In your dazed state, you must have been looking at your car clock, because John brought you here at one forty-five Georgia time. Still, that’s fast acting for such severe hypoglycemia; there must be another cause for it. Perhaps you’ve gotten in such good control that your oral medication might still be too strong. You definitely didn’t eat right and eat on time and weren’t prepared for any problems. Have you lost a lot of weight?”

  “Not recently. About ten pounds last year when I started working out at the gym a few times a week with friends. Doctor Cooper stressed the importance of maintaining proper weight to help fight this thing.” For some reason, Kirstin couldn’t bring herself to call diabetes a disease. She preferred to think of it more like an illness or ailment that must be treated daily. To her medically trained mind, Disease sounded dangerous and insidious, debilitating. She was determined not to allow the “condition” to ruin her life, spoil her fresh start. She had too much lost time to make up for and lots of living to do.

  “I saw on your medical record that there’s a family history of diabetes on your paternal side.”

  “Yes, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when I was diagnosed, but I still was. Despite it being in our family, I didn’t know much about it. I do now.”

  He kept reading. “Family history, over forty, two large babies … It’s apparent that being overweight, having high blood pressure, or being African or Hispanic or Native American weren’t factors for you.”

  Kirstin watched him as he studied her records. “You know a lot about diabetes, Doctor Harrison. Did you get all this information from Doctor Cooper and your computer program?”

  He glanced at her, half-smiled at the compliment, then focused his gaze back on the pages. “Some, mostly refresher stuff. My college roommate and best friend was diabetic, but he was on insulin shots. At least once or twice a year, no matter how good he was, he wound up in the hospital for insulin reaction, severe hyperglycemia. I’m sure Doctor Cooper told you that some diabetics have inexplicable sudden highs and lows or complications.”

  “Yes, but I was doing everything I could to prevent them.”

  He reminded, “Except following your meal schedule and being prepared for emergencies. You weren’t wearing a medical alert bracelet either.”

  “I signed up for Medic Alert but I hadn’t received the bracelet before I left. If they’ve notified me by mail, I missed the letter during my move. I normally keep glucose tablets within reach, but I must have put them away while I was disoriented.”

  “Before traveling, you should have purchased one of those inexpensive bracelets from a drugstore. You should never be without medical ID and treatment tablets. It’s best to keep them in your pocket in case you don’t have your purse with you when trouble strikes. Weren’t you told that?”

  Kirstin nodded and her cheeks reddened. She wished he would stop treating her like a child who had misbehaved. Yet, he—along with Officer Two Fists—had saved her life, so she knew she should be polite and grateful. “You’re right; I admit I was careless this time. I suppose I had a lot on my mind. I’m sorry.”

  As Christopher checked her pulse and blood pressure again, he said, “I apologize if it sounds as if I’ve been giving you a scolding, Mrs. Lowrey, but what you did could have been dangerous for others.”

  “Thank you, Doctor Harrison, and you’re right to fuss at me. I was stupid.” Kirstin watched him fumble with the equipment, as if he were suddenly all thumbs. She wondered if she was making him as nervous as he was making her. He hadn’t struck her as a man who would be uneasy or insecure around women. He looked to be around her own age, with mussed sable hair that fell over his forehead but was trimmed in a neat style, short like men were wearing again these days. His brows were straight and close to his dark-green eyes, giving them a hooded appearance that hinted at playfulness and mystery. His nose was straight, smaller and narrower than most men’s but suited to his features. There were shallow lines across his forehead, and tiny creases fanned near his eyes. He hadn’t shaved, but her arrival might have interrupted his morning routine. She wondered if he were married, divorced, or widowed. No doubt, if he was unattached, he had no trouble getting dates and probably had to fight women off with a stick. Good looks, money, status, education, and manners: Christopher Harrison had a hefty share of them.

  “We all make stupid mistakes, Mrs. Lowrey. Some are just more dangerous and costly to us than others. You’re lucky you can correct yours.”

  “And I was told chivalry was dead,” she murmured as she experienced an unsettling warmth at his touch. “Perhaps you westerners are different from city men, nicer, more polite. Where I work, most men don’t even open a door or move a chair for a woman. I wonder where all the southern gentlemen went?”

  Obviously amused, he put away his instruments and supplies and inquired, “You said you were moving?”

  She noted the change of subject. “Yes, to San Diego.”

  To move in with someone? To get married? “Moving for family or work?” he inquired aloud without meaning to do so.

  Kirstin looked up at him and said, “For work.”

  “What kind of work do you do, Mrs. Lowrey?”

  “You can call me Kirstin. Medical research technologist for Medico of America. I’m transferring from Augusta to San Diego. They closed their Georgia branch and asked me to move to the head complex in California.”

  He gazed at her as respect—and envy—filled him. His patient was clearly quite intelligent and skilled, as Medico—he knew—only hired the best. That she’d been asked to relocate for them spoke even more highly of her talents. “Which field of research are you in?”

  “Mostly pharmacology and physiology.”

  “What exactly is your job at Medico?”

  “I do specimen surgery, treatment, dissection, and autopsies myself, or I assist with them. I run chemical tests, blood and tissue samples, chart and analyze data, observe new techniques and procedures, act as liaison with other researchers and drug firms, and handle experiments, either alone or with my boss. I assume I’ll have the same duties in San Diego; that’s what I was told. I hope it’s true because I love my work.”

  Christopher grasped the excitement and pride in her expression and voice. That’s how he had felt about his past career before … “Where did you train?” he asked. She was the first woman in ages to arouse his interest. He wanted to learn more about her. He felt enlivened, stimulated. They had a great deal in common.

  “I graduated from the University of Georgia. I studied and worked in pharmacology, physiology, and endocrinology for a few years at the Medical College of Georgia in Augusta before I resigned to have a third child. David wanted …” She paused. “I’ve been with Medico in private research f
or a year.”

  “You hide your age well; that’s a lot to accomplish for a woman who appears so young,” he remarked.

  Kirstin felt a rush of heat race over her at his compliment. “I was a college freshman at seventeen. I received my technologist’s degree and apprenticed between my second and third child. My chart probably told you I’m forty-five, at least until August fifteenth. How old are you?” she asked before thinking she shouldn’t have.

  “Forty-nine for a few more months. The big five-O coming up.”

  “Where did you study and train?”

  “Harvard and Johns Hopkins. I practiced in New York City, Chicago, and Dallas, then wound up in Baltimore. I retired four years ago and moved here three years ago, but I got dragged into a part-time country practice.”

  His smile and mellow manner disarmed her. She wanted to know more about this man. “Dragged into? How so?”

  “There are a lot of farmers and ranchers close by who are too busy during the day for making doctor’s appointments, and Clovis is a long ride for them when they have chores to do, especially in busy seasons like spring and fall. Many of them don’t like big and noisy hospitals and offices or being herded through examinations like cattle. Plus, some have farming accidents that have to be treated quickly. Had a few myself when I was learning the ropes around here. The locals got used to my uncle’s personal attention and treatment, so they forced me to become his replacement. I tried my best to refuse them, but they wouldn’t let me. How can you turn your back on people who need you so much they won’t take no for an answer? So much for early retirement.” He grinned. “I don’t have a nurse because I’m not that busy and I don’t have regular hours.”

  Retire at forty-nine? No, she corrected, at forty-five. Yet, he must be dedicated and love medicine to have allowed people to persuade him to reopen the practice “The lady at the welcome station said this state is the fifth largest in the U.S., but metro Atlanta has a larger population than New Mexico. Isn’t this area rather deserted for a man with such credentials?” she questioned, then blushed as she realized he may have had personal reasons for an early retirement.

  “Nope. I like New Mexico. Clean air, blue skies, open spaces, uncomplicated existence, friendly folks, easy living. No more chasing planes or rushing to work on countless patients a day or living in overcrowded and dangerous cities. Once in a while, I play veterinarian for friends whose finances are tight or when the vet isn’t in. I’ve even had to take a few emergency stitches. But let’s get back to you,” he said abruptly, unwilling to reveal any more about himself. There was no need to expose his troubles, and he didn’t want to evoke pity.

  Kirstin noticed his sudden withdrawal but said nothing. Perhaps he thought their conversation was getting too personal.

  “Do you have any friends or family in this area?”

  “No, why?”

  “By the time you recover fully later today, Mrs. Lowrey, it’ll be too late to continue your trip. You also need to be watched for rebound hyperglycemia; high blood sugar often follows severe hypoglycemia. You should be regulated before you continue, especially since you’re traveling alone. If you can stay around a few days, I’ll use Dr. Cooper’s notes to get your diet, medication, and exercise balanced; get the old triangle repaired. While you’re unstable and experiencing difficulty, you shouldn’t be alone in a hotel room, either. You’re welcome to stay at the ranch tonight, so I can keep an eye on you for side effects. Better still, why not stay for the next few days and give us plenty of time to make certain you’re okay? I have a guest room I use for disabled patients or those I need to observe a while longer.” It seemed only logical, not to mention hospitable, to invite her to stay over since she was a stranger in the area, and had no one to watch over her at a motel. Her problem really didn’t require hospitalization; besides, he found her rather fascinating and an excellent medical challenge. “Remember your car needs repairs and that could take days, longer if parts have to be ordered. The Nissan dealership where they towed your car is in Clovis, over thirty miles away. If you’d rather not stay at the ranch, Mrs. Lowrey, you should check into the High Plains Hospital in Clovis for observation and treatment.”

  “Stay here … with you? But …” she started to argue, then halted in confusion.

  “But, what? I am a doctor, Mrs. Lowrey, and I do—as I said—have patients stay over sometimes. You’ll be quite safe. No need to worry. I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

  Why, Kirstin wondered, was her mouth suddenly dry, her gaze too wide, her heart racing? He wasn’t coming on to her or suggesting she sleep with him! Why was she feeling so silly? “Won’t that be an imposition, Doctor Harrison? Surely your wife will object to your lodging a female patient.”

  “I’m not married, Mrs. Lowrey. There’s no one here except a foreman who lives in a house a few miles away and two part-time ranch hands who come over three times a week to do chores for me. I have a housekeeper who cooks and cleans for me, but Helen’s away on a family emergency; her husband is my foreman. Their daughter is having a baby.”

  Kirstin was tense and silent. They would be … alone. Miles from the nearest town and neighbor, if she recalled the area correctly. Was he trustworthy? Was this proper? Safe? Necessary?

  Christopher grinned and suggested, “You can repay my hospitality by helping out with the cooking and cleaning while Helen’s gone. I’m not useless around the house and kitchen, but I admit I get out of those chores anytime I can. So you see, I have an ulterior motive.” He chuckled. Her hesitation intrigued him. Was she, he mused, a liberated woman who didn’t want to depend on a man for anything, afraid of him and the secluded setting. Or was she being coy? Whatever, she would be safe with him. Although she was beautiful and tempting, matters had to remain professional between them.

  Kirstin pondered her options. Should she stay with a stranger? But what else could she do? The local authorities did know she was here. John might even check on her because of the traffic accident. She worried that if she went to a hospital, Medico would be informed and her new job might be put in jeopardy. If she’d known she was a diabetic a year, or even three months ago, she night not have gotten the position and transfer. She needed to handle this matter discreetly and she had to get her health under control before reaching San Diego. Once she proved herself at Medico she would reveal her condition, as it could be dangerous not to do so.

  Perhaps she should stay at the ranch. Christopher seemed like a gentleman, and a compassionate and skilled doctor. He was charming, a little mysterious, and had a boyish smile she liked. There was something in his gaze and voice that said he was trustworthy … unless he was a good con artist. Staying with this handsome stranger for a while would provide a little excitement and adventure in her life, an interesting tale to relate to her friends; it would certainly be different than anything she had done before. If she didn’t like the situation by morning, she could go to a motel while her car was being repaired and he could treat her during daylight visits.

  Kirstin thought about her reaction to her would-be host. His husky voice sent tingles over her, feelings she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Actually, ones she hadn’t ever felt before, even with David. How strange for a woman her age—a mother, grandmother, and widow to boot—to be thinking and feeling as she was, like a teenager with out-of-control hormones! She could remember thinking as a young girl that forty-five was old, over the hill. Of course, Steve would have a royal fit if he learned of any of this. Well, he would just have to accept the fact that the accident wasn’t her fault, and “Chris” wasn’t a threat. She met his gaze squarely and said, “If you’re dangerous, Doctor Harrison, the local police wouldn’t have left me alone with you.” If she gave him no opening or reason to make a pass at her, the arrangement should be fine for a short time.

  “It’s my hospitality or the Clovis High Plains Hospital because, as I told you, a motel alone would be too risky in your condition. Rest assured I have no romantic interest in my female patien
ts. You said you were from Augusta, so you can tell me all about the Master’s Golf Tournament; it starts this week.”

  Kirstin permitted his second statement to pass unchallenged. Still, it rankled that he thought she was flirting with him, or that he’d find it necessary to warn her not to do so. “Naturally I’ll pay for any hospitality and medical treatment I receive, Doctor Harrison, if you don’t mind putting up with me for a day or so.” He needn’t worry; she wasn’t interested in marriage at this point in her life and might never be again, not after David, and not even if Chris did have her hormones going wild. She had worked hard to become a medical technologist at the prestigious Medico of America. She was excited about relocating across the country. She had independence and a golden opportunity and was ready to enjoy life and her career to the fullest. She wanted to spread her wings and fly. Sure, it was a little scary to pull up roots and move so far from where she’d been born and reared and lived half of her life. Everything in California would be new and different, but she would have Katie nearby to help her adjust. And Steve …

  Christopher observed her hesitation. Perhaps she was worried about what her boyfriend might think of the set-up. She needn’t concern herself, as she would be—could be—nothing more than a patient to him, a short medical diversion and challenge. “This might be the perfect opportunity and time for you to accept and face the risks of damaging your body; then, maybe you’ll learn to take better care of it.”

  “I don’t take chances with my life and health. It just happened.”