Colonel Geoff was the first to spot her. “Ah, good morning, Mandy.”
She was disappointed not to find Brett in the mix but kept her voice bright. “Looks like there’s a lot of concert spirit right here under our roof.”
A cheery Della turned, waving a big plastic spoon. “Means more to us than most. Colonel Geoff’s brother is the conductor who makes it all happen.”
“So, has anyone seen Brett?”
Della was surprised by the query. “Thought you knew. He took off for the clinic.”
“Without me? He said things would start at the school about ten.”
“He hasn’t abandoned you,” Della assured her. “He merely wants to keep the immunization process timely. The concert starts at noon and the parents of all those children will want to be free ’round then to head for the park.”
Frank smiled at her. “Asked if one of us could drop you by the school around ten. I’ll be happy to do that.”
“Oh. Thank you very much.”
“In the meantime, we can use some help with this salad,” Della interposed. “Frank chopped celery last night and the pieces are the size of radishes.”
Her husband bridled. “They’re not that big, Del.”
Della moved to the fridge and fished out the sack of evidence. “We’ll give Mandy a chance to eat something, then put her to work.”
Tess held up a gooey finger. “You want some sugar, Mandy?”
The child’s innocent offer brought unexpected laughter bubbling up her throat. “I think I’ll have some orange juice instead.”
Ruffling Tess’s glossy black hair, Amanda allowed herself to join in the gaiety.
The school was located a half block from the church, within easy walking distance of the boarding house. Just the same, Frank ignored her offer to walk. Realizing he was determined, Amanda hopped into the station wagon with him.
By the time he pulled up along the boulevard fronting the old brick building, cars were packed into the modest parking lot. Brett’s red Corvette was visible near the entrance.
Amanda put her hand on the passenger door handle. “Thanks a lot, Frank. Hope I didn’t put you out too much.”
He looked surprised. “Don’t even mention it. We do things for one another without a second thought. You know that. You’re a part of it now.”
Amanda was deeply touched by his ease and familiarity. She brushed his hand on the steering wheel. “I’ve gotten a lot more than I’ve given. Never before have I felt so accepted.”
Her husky response made Frank fidget behind the wheel. “And never before have you ever chopped celery!”
“I suppose that seems strange to all of you.”
“Makes us a little curious.”
“Hope I didn’t do it wrong.”
“Guess there’s no wrong way of doing it,” he said diplomatically, “just different ways. You made it a whole lot harder on yourself using that steak knife with the serrated edge.”
“Oh. I’ll remember that for next time.” With a shrug she swung open the door and eased onto the boulevard.
“People handle their feelings in different ways, too,” he hastened to add. “The Doc for instance…”
Amanda arched a delicate brow. “Yes, Frank?”
“He’s like me. I mean, we have sincere feelings but sometimes have a problem expressing them.”
Shoving the door closed, Amanda leaned in through the open window. “Is this why you were so anxious to drive me over here?” she asked gently. “To tell me that?”
“Sort of.” He traced a finger around the steering wheel. “Things have been a little tense between the two of you. And, well, you seemed so genuinely sad this morning that he took off alone. I’d hate to see any trouble between you get out of hand.”
Amanda caught his gaze and held it tight with her own. “Is there some trouble that Brett should be talking over with me, Frank?”
“That isn’t for me to say.”
“I’ve asked him if anything is wrong.”
“It’s gonna take some patience. He’s been hurt you see, by the wife who died. It makes him slow to trust. And excuse me for saying so, but you move along at such a breakneck pace. Since the moment you arrived in fact, ramming the motel bicycle into that car. And all for a look at him.” He smiled wistfully. “In your favor, that had to be a real ego booster, even for a high-class doc.”
“I want you to know, Frank, I have my sights clearly aimed on Doc. I care for him in a way that’s all new and wonderful to me. I wouldn’t want to ever lose that feeling.”
He took this news with pleasure. “And I just want you to know that Della and I have a lot of faith in you. Believe that you’d never hurt Doc on purpose. Not ever.”
“Of course I wouldn’t!”
“Then it’s all right. Everything will be all right.” With a final salute, Frank rolled away from the curb.
Amanda turned Frank’s conversation over in her mind a couple of times as she took the school’s steps, only to have all rational thought leave her head as she entered the cool, musty building. There were forty children at the very least, lined up by age along the hallway with a side order of adults. As she walked the length of the corridor toward the room bearing a Nurse’s Office sign, she decided there wasn’t one happy face in the bunch. Under the circumstances, she understood.
Brett was stationed in the office along with a stocky, middle-aged man with a pretty awful comb-over, dressed in a gray suit. In full professional mode, Brett was assured and pleasant. “Ah, Mandy. I want you to meet Mr. Duncan, the school principal.”
Mr. Duncan shook her extended hand then beat a hasty retreat.
Brett’s smile faded slightly. He gestured to the setup that was not unlike one of the clinic’s own exam rooms with exam table, worktable, desk and chairs. On the table was Brett’s medical bag along with a giant case of syringes and medicine. On the desk was a tall stack of file folders.
“The kids are lined up in alphabetical order according to grade,” Brett explained. “Open up the file, call the name and show me their immunization record sheet. Then have the parent sign on the line at the bottom of the page.”
So the production line began. Read, sign, swab, jab.
After thirty minutes Brett called for a small break, taking Amanda down the hallway to the cafeteria. Dropping coins in a soda machine, he bought her some Mountain Dew.
She tried to turn away. “No, thanks.”
He pressed the cold can into her hand. “Look, you need a pick-me-up. You’re white as a sheet.”
New hope sparked inside her. “Glad you care.”
“I care mostly for the kids. Your trepidation is bound to be affecting them.”
“Sorry. Watching those needles piercing those poor little arms is especially gruesome.”
“There, you’re doing it again!” He pointed at her. “That flare of nostrils, that crunch of eyes. The moan is the worst part though.”
“Hey, don’t forget, I’m here as a favor.” She took a swig of soda to busy her shaky hands. The drink was surprisingly fruity and good.
He sighed, looking slightly penitent. “Point taken. No one else jumped up to volunteer their help today. The pops concert is too big an event for people to miss.”
“So why do this on concert day?”
“It isn’t supposed to be concert day. The orchestra usually comes the Saturday after Labor Day. But they had a scheduling conflict and changed dates. As for the immunizations, they’ve always been done the last Saturday in September and it was decided it would be too confusing to tamper with the date. So here we are.” He gave the sort of shrug that made him look tough and sweet all at once. Charmed, Amanda gave him a quick hug.
“Okay,” he said gruffly, “let’s get back in there and finish.”
The stroke of noon passed and while the line of students hadn’t evaporated, it was fairly small. Several minutes later, as Brett lectured an eighth-grade girl about biting her nails raw, his beeper went off. H
e glanced down to read the message on the small box clipped to his belt and waved the relieved girl on her way.
Reaching for the telephone on the desk, he punched in a number. “Hello, Kiley. More cramps? How far apart?”
Amanda watched Brett’s face as he spoke to the young pregnant mother who’d had more false alarms this month than the fire station. Suddenly his expression changed from strained tolerance to near panic.
“Oh! Where’s—I see. Okay. Just lie still. We’re coming.” He hung up the phone and snagged Amanda’s arm. She had the sinking feeling his use of the plural pronoun included her. “Help me pack up my medical bag.” Then he thrust a finger at the gangly freckle-faced kid next in line. “Go down to the office, Jerry, and get Mr. Duncan. Run!”
“But we aren’t supposed to run in the halls. Duncey Duncan will kill me.”
His mother cuffed his shoulder. “Hurry up. We’ll protect you.” The mother then turned to Brett. “Kiley in labor, Doc?”
“Yes, Jen.” He swiftly stowed things into his bag.
“Poor kid, barely nineteen.”
“So, Jen, care to do me a tremendous favor?”
“Name it.”
“Get over to the park and round up Rochelle. Tell her I need her help pronto.”
The principal showed up to disperse the line. Jen took off with her son to locate Rochelle. And Brett took Amanda by the arm and led her to his Corvette.
Brett shot out County 6 past the Blue Parrot, to a small development of nondescript gray duplexes.
“What’s happening here, exactly?” she asked.
He glanced at her sharply. “Didn’t I say?”
“You never say enough about anything,” she retorted, folding her arms across her chest. “I mean, why do you think she’s really in labor this time versus the other times? Her due date isn’t for nearly a week.”
“For starters, her mucus plug dropped out a week ago, which is one signal the birth is imminent.” He glanced over, and from his expression Amanda knew she was cringing. “You asked.”
“I know. Go on.”
“Kiley’s contractions are about four minutes apart. Or so she thinks. Her husband’s gone fishing for the day so she’s all alone.”
“She must be scared.”
“Considering she’s barely old enough to vote, I’d say petrified.”
“So this could be another false alarm.”
Brett’s profile hardened. “Could be. But don’t count on it.”
Her voice shook a little. “Oh, but I am going to count on it.”
He took his eyes off the road to flash her a bolstering smile. “Take it easy. I’ll walk in there and simply determine whether her labor is genuine, if she needs to go to the county hospital. We’ll either take that ride in Rochelle’s car or an ambulance.”
“And you need me for…”
“Backup.”
“I am not a nurse.”
“You’re all I have, though. A very important aide. So please, show the confidence of one!”
“I only wish I was more prepared.”
“Just stay alert and follow my orders. Rochelle will be hot on our heels I’m sure.”
“Have you ever thought of buying yourself a more comfortable car to transport patients in?”
“No. This Vette is my only vice.”
“You wish.”
Moments later Brett took a sharp turn into the Tyson driveway and leaped out of the car with his medical bag. Amanda scurried after him.
They burst inside the duplex only to hear soft cries coming from the upper level. Brett took the stairs two at a time to find Kiley, dressed in an old terry robe, stretched out on the kitchen floor lying in a pool of her own broken water.
Amanda was well acquainted with nineteen-year-old, pregnant Kiley through her office post. Still she was dumbstruck by her current condition, belly swollen so far out of proportion, twisted in a pose that stripped away her dignity. “It’s really happening, isn’t it?”
“Yes!” Brett knelt down beside his patient and grasped her trembling hand.
“Want me to call 9-1-1?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s the phone?”
Brett fumbled for the cordless one on the floor beside Kiley and handed it up to her. “Take this in the other room. The street is Filborn. The house number is 2276. Unit one.”
Amanda quickly made the call and returned to the kitchen. “They’re coming.”
“Good. Now go into the bathroom and bring back big clean towels and a cold, damp washcloth.”
When Amanda returned, he instructed her to spread the towels underneath Kiley as he gently lifted her off the floor. Then he swiftly got organized, snapped on surgical gloves and snatched a flashlight from his medical bag. He dropped to the floor, pushed Kiley’s knees up and opened her thighs to check her cervix. Glancing up at Amanda, he shook his head. “They won’t be in time.”
Amanda and Kiley released twin cries of dismay.
“I want my mom. Please!”
Amanda half crouched by Kiley’s head, deciding that with her yellow hair and face plastered in sweat, she was too young to vote after all. “Where is Mom? The pops concert?”
“She hates that music.” Kiley puffed the words out. “Went to Portland.”
Brett patted Kiley’s knee. “You should have called me sooner. You didn’t need to go this far alone.”
“I called so much. For nothing. You had to be…sick.”
Brett tsked in gentle reprimand. “Sick of you? How ridiculous. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.”
The sweetness of his assurance made Amanda’s heart melt.
His tone grew more professional as he laid out the facts. “Your cervix is eight centimeters. And contractions…” He glanced at his watch as Kiley braced in agony. “Are now a minute apart, lasting for…about forty-five seconds,” he reported behind her howl of pain.
Amanda watched the proceedings, at a complete and utter loss.
Rising from his knees, he pulled Amanda near an ancient gold refrigerator. “Listen carefully. I need you to hold her hand through her contractions, dab her face with the cloth. I’ll begin to lead her through her breathing and I want you to try and catch on, take over the job.”
She tried to keep her face neutral, even though her heart was pounding with stark fear. “Okay.”
“And try not to look so damn scared.”
“Okay.”
The next twenty minutes seemed like hundreds to Amanda. Brett kept her busy seeing to Kiley’s comfort, demanding things from his medical bag. He took Kiley’s pulse, checked her heart and checked for fetal tones.
“Doc, you said I’d get something for pain,” the girl huffed.
“Sorry, Kiley, I don’t have anything to give you. But you took the natural childbirth classes. We just have to go through the motions.”
Amanda watched Brett coach Kiley through her contractions. She managed to catch on and with some confidence took over the prompts. Through it all, Brett exerted his trademark professional calm. But Amanda knew him well enough to read stress in his expression. Under these primitive circumstances, with the contractions growing in intensity, he had to be overly concerned about both mother and baby.
“Kiley, your cervix is completely dilated and effaced,” he finally announced. “Remember, we talked about this at the office just last week.”
Kiley’s eyes strayed up to the hovering Amanda, who was holding her hand tight. “We both remember how that goes, Doc,” Amanda lied.
“You need to push the baby through the birth canal.”
Kiley grimaced. “It hurts so much.”
Amanda nodded down at the girl’s tear-stained face, struggling to keep her composure. “It can’t be harder than the time you won that canoe race, can it? Remember how you told me that everyone was giving up but you kept on going? Kept on pushing that oar into the water? Then it was over. All over.”
Brett met Amanda’s eye. “She needs to push
when I say. The baby is big. So she needs to push hard. But only when I say.”
Upon Brett’s curt direction, Amanda encouraged Kiley to push, screwing up her own face, making grunting sounds for the first time in her life. If her old friends could only see her now, she thought fleetingly. To her own surprise, she realized she wouldn’t care what they’d think—about this or anything else ever again.
“Stop!” Brett checked his patient’s progress. “I can see the baby’s head. Now get ready, Kiley. When I say push once more, go for it. This should be the last time. Push…Big push now!” he shouted. “Okay, stop. It’s coming.”
Suddenly, Brett was staring down at a long, chunky newborn in his hands. “A girl,” he announced huskily. “Have you ever got your work cut out for you.”
Brett set about clearing the baby’s airway, examining her.
“She look healthy?” Kiley asked, lifting her head.
“She looks perfect.” Brett winked at his patient then addressed his assistant. “Look in my bag for some clamps.”
Amanda scooted over to the medical bag and riffled through it. “What do they look like?”
“If nothing looks like a clamp, I don’t have any.” He looked around the kitchen. “We need something to tie around the umbilical cord. Mandy. Get on your knees.”
Amanda reeled back. “What for?”
“To take the shoelaces out of my shoes. Come on. Quickly now.”
Feeling utterly foolish, Amanda obeyed.
Brett set the baby on her mother’s belly and took the laces. He tied each lace a short distance apart near the navel. “Now, get the scissors from my bag. And a pair of gloves.” When Amanda returned with the items, he told her to put on the gloves.
“W-why?”
“To clip the cord.” His steady gaze held challenge and unmistakable admiration. “It’s an honor.”
“Yes, Mandy,” Kiley coaxed weakly. “You do it.”
Amanda put on the gloves and looked down at the transparent cord with a purplish tinge. She was about to slice through real human tissue. But it was an honor and she couldn’t refuse. Taking a deep breath, she laid the scissors into it and snipped.
Flirting With Trouble Page 20