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Tedi watched his face and listened to his voice. He’d apologized before. Maybe he’d meant it when he said it, but what good had it done?
His gaze drifted again to her throat, and she knew he was looking at the scar, then he closed his eyes for a moment, squeezing them tightly shut, as if he were afraid they would burn out if he kept them open any longer. He looked old. He was the same age as Mom, but he looked a lot older than she did. His eyes looked wrinkled, and they turned down at the corners, the way his mouth did.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and he raised his head and gazed into her eyes again. “I can’t ever make it up to you, Tedi, and I’m so sorry.” He took a deep breath. “But I’m going to try anyway. Tedi, I’m not supposed to be here, but I want to get permission to try to see you again. Before I do that, though, I want to know if it’s okay with you. If not, I’ll wait.”
She didn’t move, didn’t speak. She was too shocked, not by his words, but by the fact that she realized she didn’t hate him totally. Mostly, but not totally.
“I’d like a chance to talk with you, Tedi. Your mother would have to be there with us.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re talking to me now .”
“What I mean is that I want to start seeing you again, regularly, like the kind of visitation you had with your mom when you lived with me.”
She took a step forward, feeling braver. “Mom would never let you take me away from her again. Never! And I will never go back.”
He sighed and held her gaze steadily. “I wouldn’t try to get you back. If I got to visit with you, I wouldn’t even touch you. I promise. I just want to find out if it would be okay with you before I ask for permission from your mother.’ His light blue eyes filled with tears, and he looked away for a moment. “It’s going to take a long time to become friends again, but I have to try.”
Friends? Ha! A friend didn’t try to kill a friend. And a friend didn’t try to keep a friend from her mother or try to ruin her mother’s name in town just out of spite. “I don’t want to be your friend.”
He reached up with the back of his hand and brushed his tears away. “Of course you don’t. I’ve been talking with my counselor about it, and he said it would be unreasonable for me to expect that. I just felt like I had to make contact.”
So now he’d made contact. What else would he want? When Dad was nice, it was always because he wanted something. Why was she even listening to him? Why was she talking to him and thinking about what it might be like to see him again? She should hate him for what he had done to her and Mom. She shouldn’t’ve even come out here.
But what if he’d really changed?
“You’ll have to ask Mom yourself,” she said at last. “I’m not going to be your messenger this time.”
Dad blinked a couple of times and looked back at her. “You’d meet with me?” Some of the sadness left his face. The bell rang, and he stiffened. He reached out as if to touch her and then drew his hand back. “Tedi, I want to prove to you—and maybe to myself—that people can change, that they don’t have to be stuck in the rut they dig for themselves.”
For a moment, she couldn’t help hoping. Then she thought of something Grandma always said, and she knew Dad needed to hear it. “Grandma Ivy says nobody can do that without God’s help.”
Instead of sneering at her and laughing the way he used to do when she quoted Grandma, he cocked his head to the side. “How’s your grandma doing?”
Tedi heard her name being called and glanced toward the building to find Abby gesturing for her to hurry. “I’ve got to go.” She turned to leave.
“Okay. I’ll talk to your mom, Tedi. Today. I’m going to walk to her office right now.”
She paused and looked back and felt suddenly angry again. “Don’t you hurt her. Don’t scare her, and don’t fight with her.”
“I won’t.”
“If you do, I’ll never talk to you again.”
He closed his eyes and sighed, and the muscle flexed at the side of his jaw again. “I won’t hurt her, Tedi. I promise.”
Lukas slipped past the curtain in exam room five and greeted Jacob Casey, who lay on the bed beneath a thin sheet, his wounded upper arm covered in a sterile dressing. “Well, Cowboy, I’ve got a lot of good news and a little bad news. The good news is that I see no vital damage to your arm, and you won’t have to leave Knolls to have the wound repaired. The bullet exited with no bone involvement. The bad news is that I want a surgeon to have a look at you, and he’ll probably want to keep you overnight.”
He expected an argument but got no reaction. Cowboy lay watching him listlessly.
Lukas frowned. “It won’t leave as much of a scar as the lion bite did this spring.” He waited for one of the quick, witty replies Cowboy was known for during his many trips to the E.R., but to his amazement the rugged forty-three-year-old man’s eyes filled with sudden tears. For a moment Lukas wondered if maybe he should recheck Cowboy’s vitals and see if someone had slipped him some pain medication by mistake, then the man cleared his throat and wiped his eyes.
“The police didn’t tell you, did they?” Cowboy said, his voice husky. “The man who shot me also shot and killed Leonardo.”
Lukas stared at Cowboy and felt his jaw go slack. “Oh no.” Not Leonardo. That cat had become a legend around Knolls, and everybody knew Cowboy loved him fiercely. “I’m sorry, Jake. I didn’t know. I had to see about some other patients when the police showed up to get your statement, and since you were stable—”
“Did you ever lose somebody you depended on, Doc?” Cowboy kept his voice low, obviously unwilling for anyone outside the exam room to hear him.
Lukas nodded. “My mother died three years ago.”
Cowboy shook his head and grunted in shared sympathy. He was silent for a moment, then he said, “That lion was my best friend, and Berring just walked onto my ranch and shot him while I was gone. Killed him! I call it murder. How could he get away with that? He’s crazy!”
“Nobody really gets away with anything,” Lukas said. “Not in the end. But I came to tell you something about that, Cowboy. We received word that Berring has been picked up by the police, and they checked his records. He was released from state prison about six months ago after a fifteen-year stint for armed robbery and attempted murder. He’s being held.”
Cowboy stared at him for a moment, then shook his head and lay back. “I’m glad they got him. It doesn’t bring Leonardo back, though.”
“No, it doesn’t. I’m sorry.”
Someone knocked at the threshold, then swept inside the curtain without waiting. In stepped tall, redheaded Beverly, off-duty E.R. nurse and Cowboy’s girlfriend for the past four months. In fact, the two had met right here in the emergency department when Cowboy came in with a “love bite” from Leonardo.
“Hey, pardner,” Cowboy greeted Beverly, his voice suddenly back to its usual bass depth, all evidence of grief gone except for the telltale redness in his eyes. “Come to see if I’d died and left that Mustang to you in my will?”
Beverly did not smile. Her usually pale skin flushed with anger as she crossed her arms over her chest. Beverly’s quick temper was even hotter than the color of her hair, which was no surprise to Lukas. He’d borne the brunt of her anger a few months ago. He wondered if he should leave and allow Cowboy to handle it alone.
“You didn’t even call me!” she snapped at Cowboy. “I had to hear about it through the grapevine.” She glanced at Lukas, then lowered her gaze, as if embarrassed. “Hello, Dr. Bower.”
“Hello, Beverly.”
She was silent for a moment, as if wishing Lukas would leave. Or maybe she was too acutely aware of the fact that legally she should not have been called unless Cowboy had requested it, and Cowboy was not the type to ask for emotional support. Someone—probably softhearted, bigmouthed Lauren—had called out of consideration for Beverly, breaking patient confidentiality.
“Jacob Casey,” Beverly said, “do you know what the word macho means? It’s not flattering. I don’t appreciate it that half the town knew about this thing—” she gestured toward the gauze-covered wound “—before I did.”
“Oh, don’t go and get all worked up.” Cowboy reached up with his left hand and patted her arm. “I’ve been hurt worse than this lots of times.”
“What happened to Leonardo?”
Cowboy froze for a moment, clenching and unclenching the muscles in his jaw. “He didn’t fare too well.”
Beverly studied his face, her forest-colored eyes showing compassion and just a hint of frustration. Some of the high color eased from her face. “I’m sorry, Jake.” She glanced at her watch. “The kids will be home in about an hour. I’ll get them and go out to the ranch—”
“Nope.”
She paused. “There you go again. You’re not going to stop me this ti—”
“I don’t want the kids to see him like that, Bev. Call the vet. You know his number.” His voice wobbled just a little. He stopped, swallowed, took a breath. “They’ve got a key to the cage. They’ll take care of him.”
“But I can meet them out there. Let me help—”
Lukas quietly slipped out of the room as their voices continued in gentle argument. Cowboy needed to realize he had other friends besides Leonardo. In the short time they had known each other, Beverly already seemed to be a staunch supporter. Funny how some men could inspire loyalty and some could not, even in the workplace. Maybe that was why, at thirty-five, Lukas remained unmarried.
But could Beverly be trusted to continue her loyalty during Cowboy’s grieving period? She had refused to support Lukas last spring with the treatment of one of their E.R. patients. All he’d wanted her to do was follow accepted hospital protocol when he refused to give narcotics to a drug-seeking patient.
She was supposed to fill out an AMA form stating that the patient, Dwayne Little, had left against medical advice when he realized he wasn’t going to get the narcotic he wanted. Her refusal resulted in a pending lawsuit against Lukas by Dwayne’s father, Bailey Little, president of the hospital board. If not for Mrs. Pinkley, the hospital administrator, Lukas would no longer be working here.
Lukas sighed and went in to check on his other patients.
With the sound of mechanical beeps filling the room behind her, Mercy stood blocking the entrance, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at a policeman trying to get past her to Ramón Martínez, who was on a nonrebreather oxygen mask and a cardiac monitor.
“This man is not drunk, Bill,” she said. “We’ve proven that. The alcohol you smelled on his breath came from the toothache medicine he was taking. He accidentally overdosed. He’s sick and he’s in pain. How can you do this to him right now?”
“Dr. Mercy, you know I still have to give him a ticket. People were hurt. I’m required—”
“If you give it to him now, he won’t even understand what’s going on. The interpreter called and canceled on us.”
Bill sighed, tugging at the too-tight collar of his uniform. “I know enough Spanish to explain it to him.”
Mercy felt the tingle of anger work its way up her spine. “You know Spanish, and you didn’t volunteer to interpret when we needed help with him?”
Bill shifted uncomfortably. “Come on, Dr. Mercy. I don’t know that much. Look, I’m not the bad guy here. I’m just trying to do my job. I’m not gonna beat him up or anything. I’ll just give him the ticket and leave you alone.”
Mercy wanted to argue further, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. It would probably make things worse for Ramón. If Bill didn’t give the ticket now, someone else might do it later, and there were a couple of people on the Knolls police force that Mercy wouldn’t trust to haul a dead dog to the pound. Bill was a good guy, just a little too legalistic.
Mercy nodded her consent, gestured for Claudia to stay in the room and stepped down the hallway to Arthur’s room, where she found Lukas and Lauren assisting Arthur into a wheelchair.
“Going somewhere?” she asked, ignoring the sight of Lukas and Lauren with their heads so close together.
“Your walls aren’t soundproof,” Arthur said. “I heard you need an interpreter.”
“But your friends are getting ready to take you to Springfield,” Mercy protested. “I know how badly you want to be with Alma.”
“I’m going soon. Alma would want me to help Mr. Martínez.” He settled back into the chair with a groan. His head was cleanly bandaged, and his arm was in a sling. His voice was still just a little slurred from the effects of the Demerol as he asked Lukas questions about Mr. Martínez.
“I admire your ability to forgive, Arthur,” Mercy said softly.
He looked up at her in surprise. “Forgiveness has nothing to do with it, Dr. Mercy. What happened to us was an accident. There’s no one to blame.”
Mercy shook her head and stood back to let Lukas wheel Arthur out of the room. Was this guy for real? As if unable to help herself, she followed the entourage from the exam room into the hallway.
“I know a man near here who speaks Spanish,” Arthur was telling Lauren. “If you’ll ask my friends to call him, he can come in and interpret when I leave.” When he entered Ramón’s room, he spoke without hesitation, interpreting for the policeman giving the ticket, then more softly, with words of comfort, when Ramón buried his face in his hands.
Mercy stood beside Lukas at the doorway watching the scene. Even high on drugs and obviously still in some pain when he moved too fast, Arthur seemed to have an aura of compassion that surrounded him. She only knew one other person with that kind of presence. She looked at Lukas and found him watching her.
She did not want to look away. What she saw in his gaze as he looked at her was a combination of concern and admiration and something warmer, deeper, an emotion she didn’t dare try to identify.
He touched her shoulder. “Thanks for coming over, Mercy,” he said softly. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you. I know other docs who wouldn’t have come.”
“You’re welcome. Now, why don’t you let me finish taking care of this one? You’re still swamped.”
He smiled and nodded. “I do have a date with a broken arm.”
Mercy watched Lukas and Lauren leave, along with the policeman, then she pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and listened to Ramón’s labored breathing. Through Arthur, she explained to Ramón that he had overdosed on the pain medication for his tooth, and that kept the oxygen from carrying well through his body.
“Tell him this is serious, Arthur, and the drug they are giving him will take care of that, but I need to keep him overnight in the hospital on the telemetry unit.”
She checked the monitor, and it looked good. Ramón still had some shortness of breath, but no chest pain. She checked his painful tooth and had Claudia begin the dosage of methylene blue through an IV to counteract the effects of the drug overdose.
While Arthur translated, Mercy checked Ramón’s neck, belly, squeezed his hips and legs, listened again to his breathing. It could have been a lot worse, but he had a strong constitution. He also seemed to have a strong sense of guilt, and Mercy was glad for Arthur’s attitude of compassion.
She looked at Arthur once more, who continued to talk in soothing tones while she worked. Alma Collins was a lucky woman.
Chapter Four
L ukas studied the small image of shrapnel that showed clearly on Buck’s chest X-ray, then looked back at Buck. “Sorry, pal, it’s surgeon’s territory.”
Buck groaned and laid his head back. “Surgery? I have a shift tomorrow.”
“Get a replacement.”
“I can’t. We’ve got the competition for the Explorers. I have to be there. Can’t you just fish in there and pull it out?”
Lukas held the X-ray out and showed him, pointing to the image of metal. “It’s deep in the muscle, Buck. I don’t have any concerns about it being in the heart or lung, but I’m not going to go slicing through all that thick bodybuilder’s muscle and tissue of yours to find something that’s going to play hide-and-seek with a scalpel. Don’t worry. You won’t even have to leave Knolls. In fact, Dr. Wong is in the E.R. right now treating another patient, and I can have him give you a look while he’s here.”
“Will he do it here in the E.R.?”
“Probably.”
“Then I’ll get out today?”
“Barring complications.”
Buck motioned for Lukas to lean closer. “Will you tell Kyle and Alex to go on back to the station? I’m not on duty today, and they’re not my responsibility. And don’t tell Lauren I said that, or she’ll give me another lecture.”
Lukas grinned. “I’ll head everybody off except your wife. She should be here any time.”
Buck’s expression relaxed into a smile at last. “Kendra’s the only one I want to see.”
Mercy had been gone from her office for over two hours, and it was time to get back, if she had anybody left to treat. She felt bad for leaving them for so long. They depended on her. She knew they were loyal, but that wasn’t what concerned her about this.
A little over five years ago she’d lost custody of her daughter, and she’d lost the majority of her practice, all because of rumors and public opinion—and the fact that she’d been forcibly committed to a psych ward for a ninety-six-hour stay. Her ex-husband, Theodore Zimmerman, had coerced a physician buddy of his to pull the double cross on her during a very high-profile custody case for their daughter, Tedi.
Those patients who came to her now most likely knew about her past, about the rumors, and they came to her anyway. They’d given her their loyalty, and she hated to let them down.
She stepped into the nearest call room, prepared to do dictation on Arthur, when a newly familiar sense of suffocating heat and slight nausea accosted her. She inhaled with sharp impatience, as if to will away the attack as it began its languid travel outward from the core of her body. She hated this feeling! There wasn’t time for it now.
She stepped into the private bathroom and splashed some cold water on her face and neck, then took deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth to try to relax. Stress. It had to be stress. Her life was so full right now that she constantly felt tense, even irritable. She wasn’t sleeping well at night, and she refused to try the sleeping pills she sometimes prescribed for her patients. She splashed water again on her face, then pulled off her lab coat and fanned herself with some paper towels. It would pass in a moment, as it had before. Some ice cubes would be nice, but—
“Mercy? You in there?” came Lukas Bower’s voice from the call room entrance.
Dabbing moisture from her face and neck, she stepped out of the bathroom and waved him through the open doorway, then slumped onto the side of the bed in the corner beside the desk. She had to get back to the clinic. People were waiting. Who knew what state the office was in. But she was still perspiring heavily, and she didn’t feel like getting up right now.
