Love On Call

Mari laughed. “Well, aren’t you tired?”

“Oh no, not really. I don’t need much sleep.”

“Apparently.” Mari pointed to her house. “I’m in there. Second floor.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Thanks for dinner. Be careful running.”

“I will.” Glenn was pretty sure she didn’t have anything to be careful about, but Mari’s concern felt weirdly good. She waited on the sidewalk until Mari unlocked her door, turned, and waved.

“Night!” Mari called.

“Night,” Glenn whispered, and started to run.

Chapter Nine

Glenn never ran the same route twice. Habit was a dangerous thing. Habit could get you killed. She usually headed for the narrow roads on the outskirts of the village and then looped around the borders between town and farmland, avoiding the populated residential streets where kids and dogs congregated in the road and on sidewalks until dark. Tonight she threaded her way through the mostly empty alleys and service roads behind the businesses on Main Street and across the abandoned, overgrown railroad tracks that once transported corn and milk and flax from the surrounding farms toward the river, where barges carried the goods south and west. The train, like an interrupted lifeline on a scarred palm, no longer linked communities in the heart of the upland farms, although a freight train cut across the countryside close enough for Glenn to hear its lonely whistle crying in the night. At dawn and dusk, her favorite times to run, the roads were mostly empty, and only her footfalls kept her company.

Within minutes, her body settled into its patterned rhythm, and her senses opened to the night. Air moist with a hint of rain and smelling of freshly turned earth, crushed blossoms, and tendrils of charcoal smoke streamed over her skin. Wisps of clouds raced overhead, daring her to keep pace on their wild dash across the face of the moon. A dog barked. A coyote answered with a distant howl. Her heart tattooed a beat that kept pace with the slap of rubber soles on asphalt. Usually this far into her run her mind had stilled, bereft of thought for the only time all day.

Not so tonight. Tonight she thought of Mari Mateo. Oddly, she didn’t focus on the day they’d spent working together the way she usually considered her interactions with colleagues, although Mari had settled in seamlessly and was a welcome addition to the team. She remembered instead the easy way they’d talked about the hardest things, for both of them. She’d always been a pretty good listener, even when she’d rather shut out the shouts for medic or whispered pleas to make sure some loved one in another part of the world knew a soldier’s last thoughts had been of them. She’d never been a talker herself—never saw the point in dwelling on what couldn’t be changed—but Mari’s courage in exposing her personal struggles had inspired Glenn to open up a little, hell, a lot more than she ever did with anyone else.

As she covered the miles, she replayed more than their words, although they counted for a lot. Images cascaded through her mind, of Mari engrossed in examining a patient in a brightly lit cubicle, Mari sitting across from her in the hole-in-the-wall pizza place, Mari relaxing on Glenn’s pathetic excuse for a porch as if there was nowhere else in the world she’d rather be. Glimpses of gleaming hair, so black and bright, and the quick flash of warm dark eyes and an amused smile lit up her consciousness like a strobe suddenly illuminating a dark screen. She could have wiped the images from her awareness if she’d wanted, but she didn’t. Memories of Mari kept her company as her limbs stretched and her lungs expanded, reminding her of something she’d forgotten or maybe never really known, that the other side of solitude was loneliness. She was used to being alone, even in a crowded camp or bustling ER, and she’d never considered she was lonely. Maybe it took not being to know you were.

Glenn let the unanswerable question flee with her straining breaths. She was doing fine, no matter how she described her life, and one shared dinner with a companionable woman wasn’t about to change that, nor did she want it to. She’d faced her ghosts and was making peace with them in the best way she could. That was enough for her.

As she reached the farthest point from town and turned to circle back, traffic suddenly picked up. She slowed and stared at a light patch in the sky that shouldn’t be there. Laughing, she cut down a side street and ran toward the illumination coming from the fifty-acre fairgrounds on the east side of the village that was alive with music, the roar of mingled voices, and multicolored flashing lights. Now she knew where everyone was headed on a weeknight. The rodeo.

She’d forgotten the rodeo was in town for the rest of the week. When the fairgrounds weren’t home to the annual summer county fair with its vendors, barns full of animals, show rings, and carnival midway, the space hosted other events: the boat show, huge antique fairs, classic car exhibits, and the always popular rodeo. Pretty soon a steady stream of pickups and cars passed her, and on a whim, she pulled the twenty dollar bill she kept folded in the small key pocket of her shorts and purchased a ticket for the grandstand show.

She picked up a bottle of water from the guy selling soda, beer, and water from a cooler he lugged back and forth in front of the grandstand and went in search of a seat in the nearly full stands. She’d seen the barrel racing, cattle roping, bareback riding, and obstacle course races a few hundred times in her life, or so it felt, but she still watched the competitors put their mounts through their paces and clapped along with everyone else at the simple enjoyment.

“Hey, Glenn!”

Glenn scanned the bleachers and grinned when she saw Harper Rivers with her fiancée Presley and Glenn’s friend Carrie, who also happened to be Presley’s admin and longtime friend. Carrie had shed her stylish office attire in favor of her habitual scooped tee, shorts, and sandals. With her curly shoulder-length red hair pulled back in a careless ponytail she looked closer to eighteen than early twenties. Glenn waved and climbed between the spectators clogging the aisles. She worked her way down the already full row to where her three friends pressed together to make room for her.

“Thanks for the seat.” Glenn dropped down next to Carrie. “Must be a sellout crowd. Good for the town coffers.”

“Hey.” Carrie gave her a shoulder bump. “If I’d known you’d be free, I would’ve told you we were coming tonight.”

“That’s okay. Hadn’t planned on it.” Glenn uncapped the water and drank down half. She and Carrie hadn’t known each other long, but they had developed a quick, easy friendship. They often ended up together at group gatherings, especially since their mutual friends were pairing off, but things had never gone any further than that, mostly because neither one of them had ever pushed for more. “I was at the hospital pretty late anyhow. First day of the new program.”

“I heard you had some excitement.”

“Hasn’t everyone?” Glenn smiled wryly. There were no secrets in a hospital, personal or professional. The only way to keep a secret was to keep silent. It occurred to her she’d already broken that rule with Mari, but somehow she wasn’t worried. Mari would respect her secrets.

“A mass casualty alert,” Carrie said. “Pretty wild first day for all the newbies. How’d they do?”

“The students missed the MCA, but the ER team handled that without a hitch.” Glenn shrugged. “Considering it’s the students’ first clinical experience, they aren’t half bad, actually.”

“High praise.” Chuckling, Carrie offered her half-eaten box of popcorn. “Want some?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“We’re going out for pizza in a while if you want to come.”

“Thanks, but I already had some.”

“Really?” The look in Carrie’s green eyes bordered on suspicion mixed with disbelief. “You left the hospital before sundown?”

“Oh, come on,” Glenn protested. “I do…sometimes.”

Carrie snorted. “It’s okay to admit you don’t want to come along. Just don’t think you’re getting out of the hospital barbecue this weekend.”

“I swear! I already ate. I walked down with Mari after shift and—”

“Who’s Mari?” Carrie knew everyone, considering she was the CEO’s admin, and she didn’t know anyone in the ER by that name.

“Mari Mateo. One of the new PAs, just started.”

“Huh. Since the ER is technically freestanding, those hires went through Abby and not our HR department.” Carrie gave Glenn an inquiring look. “Is she nice?”

“Nice?” Glenn felt the word roll around on her tongue like a shoe that didn’t fit. Mari was a whole lot of things—smart, capable, sensitive, maybe a little vulnerable, and, well, why not admit it, beautiful. “Sure, she’s nice.”

“And you went out to dinner with her.” Carrie’s eyes narrowed. “That’s almost newsworthy, considering about the only place you ever go outside of work is Harper and Flann’s parents’ house for Sunday dinner.”

“Pizza, Carrie, pizza.” Glenn sighed. “Give me a break.”

“Uh-huh. Just make sure she gets to the staff cookout too.”

“Flann already reminded me. I’ll make sure she’s aware—hell, I’m not gonna drag her there.”

“Mateo, you said?” Carrie asked, looking like she was only paying half attention.

“Yes, why?”

“No reason.”

Carrie fell silent, an unusual state for her. The crowd started to break up before the last competition was over. Ten thirty was late for most everybody who had to get up before four in the morning to feed the animals, milk the cows, get the work of the day started before the heat or the rain or some other unexpected event interfered.

“I’m gonna get out before the crowds,” Glenn said.

“Headed home?” Carrie asked.

“Yeah.” Glenn toyed with the idea of making a quick stop by the ER to check on the new attending on his first night on call. He seemed solid, but he was still fresh out of his residency, and he didn’t know the place like she did.

“You know,” Carrie said casually, “you don’t actually have to supervise every single person in the ER.”

Glenn laughed. “Are you mind-reading again?”

“Honestly, Glenn, you’re not all that hard to read. I’m surprised you even left today.”

Glenn didn’t mention she hadn’t been planning on it, at least not until she was absolutely certain everything was tight and tidy, but she’d been drawn away by Mari. “Are you trying to say I’m a control freak?”

“I wouldn’t be that harsh. But seriously,” Carrie said quietly, “it wouldn’t hurt to ease up a little bit now and then. You deserve it.”

“This coming from the woman who I know for a fact works twelve-hour days almost every day.”

“Have you seen my boss? She’s merciless.”

From the other side of Carrie, Presley Worth chuckled. “Are you admitting defeat?”

“Me?” Carrie grinned. “Never. I love my work, and if I never had to leave the hospital, I’d be happy.”

“We only have a few more major projects to accomplish,” Presley said, “and then your hours will seem more human.”

“Really?” Carrie snorted. “You mean after you strong-arm the construction crew into getting the new MRI wing done in six months and build the heliport in six weeks…Oh, and don’t forget pushing through the approval for our trauma accreditation so we can actually get the helicopters to land on the heliport that we haven’t built yet.”

“I didn’t say it would be instantaneous.” Presley smiled, the kind of smile fighter pilots wear as they climb into the cockpit. “It might take a month or so.”

Harper Rivers, Presley’s soon-to-be spouse and current chief of medicine at the Rivers, laughed out loud. “Darling, you do realize that at most places, things like that take a couple of years?”

“Well,” the new CEO said nonchalantly, “this isn’t most places.”

“Like I said,” Carrie said with a long-suffering sigh, “I love my job and I would sleep in the office if I could find a place to put a cot.”

“You can always bed down on the floor,” Glenn suggested. “Plenty of room behind the desk.”

Carrie gave her a raised eyebrow. “Some of us are more civilized than that.”

Glenn grinned, half listening to Carrie and Presley’s banter while most of her concentration was focused on several teens who’d just congregated at the bottom of the stairs, Blake and Margie in the mix. She noticed that another girl and boy joined them, and after they all spoke awhile, the four began wending their way toward the exit.

Glenn stood. “I’ll see you at the staff meeting tomorrow night.”

“Go home,” Carrie said sternly.

“Yes, dear.” Glenn didn’t think it necessary to add she might take just a little detour to make sure Blake and Margie didn’t run into any trouble on their way home.

*

Mari would have sworn on all that was holy she would fall asleep the second her head hit the pillow, but she lay awake in the half dark with all the events of her first day running through her mind like a runaway movie reel. Her first day. She’d gone to sleep in this room for a week, but it still felt like today was her first day. The first day that really counted. The first day of the life she’d fought for and made happen. She’d imagined what this day would be like, but she hadn’t expected most of it. The medical part was even better than she’d hoped. It was strange, the contradiction, of loving an emergency, of thriving on the challenge of going to battle against an enemy that was as real to her as she imagined an enemy on the battlefield might be to a soldier, all as a consequence of someone else’s suffering. Life was on the line, and although she might not die if she failed, someone else would, and that to her was in many ways worse than her own pain. Without the suffering of others, there’d be no need for her skills. So she’d gone to battle and loved every minute of it.

She been right that this profession was what she wanted to spend her life doing, but she hadn’t expected to discover such a vibrant community inside the hospital. She had immediately sensed the currents of a unique society with its own customs and history flowing around her like so many branches of an ancient river, in the halls and nurses’ stations, even the cafeteria. The village was another community, with its own rhythms and tides. Glenn, when she finally let herself think about Glenn, was the most unexpected part of all. She had hoped to connect with colleagues, make friends, but she hadn’t expected to meet anyone special. Someone at once secretive and welcoming, revealing and hidden. A puzzle and an open book. All Glenn’s many contrasts fascinated her, but she was most grateful to Glenn for giving her hope that she could belong somewhere again. She turned on her side and pulled a pillow close, snuggling her face into the old, familiar contours, smiling to herself as she thought about Glenn sitting across from her in the pizza parlor, still feeling the heat of Glenn’s dark-eyed scrutiny and the comfort of her unpitying understanding. Yes, much, much more than she had imagined her first day would be like.

Chapter Ten

Glenn arrived at the small ER conference room fifteen minutes before her scheduled seven o’clock lecture and found Mari already seated at one end of the oval conference table with her iPad and a cup of coffee in front of her. Dressed for the workday in pale blue, wrinkle-free scrubs, her name tag clipped to her breast pocket and a stethoscope slung around her neck, she looked rested and relaxed. No one else had arrived yet.

“Did you take those home and iron them?” Glenn asked.

Mari frowned. “Oh! You mean the scrubs? Yes.”

“When did you do that?”

“I picked them up yesterday when I was here and ironed them this morning.” Mari gave a pointed glance at Glenn’s equally pressed darker blue set. “Don’t you?”

“I used to. Now a friend in the laundry does them for me.”

“Ah—special status. Let me guess—ex-Army?”

Glenn grinned. “Navy, but us vets stick together. I’ll ask him to do yours. You want the same color all the time?”

“I’m not fussy.”

“They look good on you—I’ll tell him the baby blues.”

Mari quickly looked down at the iPad, color racing across her cheeks. “Thanks. If he can’t do it, that’s all right.”

“Billy won’t mind.”

“Well then, I owe you double.” Mari leaned over and lifted up a small green thermal insulated bag covered with multicolored fish. She unzipped the top and withdrew a cardboard cup with a Styrofoam lid that looked very much like the one she was drinking from.

Glenn stared at it and actually felt her taste buds start to tingle. “Is that—?”

“A little thank you for giving me a break on the lecture today.” Mari slid the cup down the table toward her. “Double espresso, macchiato. I just guessed on that part.”

Glenn scooped up the cup, removed the lid, and took a deep breath of some mighty fine coffee. “Perfect.” She sipped and sighed. “You have my undying thanks.”

Mari laughed. “I sort of owe you for rescuing me and taking this session.”

“Believe me, if this is what I get in thanks, I’ll do all of yours.”

“Well, I stop there almost every morning, so it’s no trouble.” Mari smiled. “Free of charge.”

Glenn settled a hip on the edge of the table. “It’s absolutely not required, but whenever you happen to think of it, you will have my eternal gratitude.”

“You’re welcome, and let’s call it done.”

“Done. How did you sleep?” Glenn asked.

“Just about the best night I’ve had in forever.” Mari paused a second. If she thought Glenn looked like she’d had less than three hours’ sleep, she didn’t say so. “You weren’t on call, right?”

“No, I wasn’t, and I decided to leave Dr. Jaspers on his own last night. I saw Baker in the cafeteria, so she survived her first night too.”

Mari laughed. “Was it difficult for you, not checking up on them?”

“Actually, yeah,” Glenn confessed. “A good friend of mine, you’ll meet her before long, Carrie Longmire, suggested I’m too controlling.”