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Allie grinned back at him with obvious hero worship.
“Thank you.” She led Allie through the barrier. “Bye.”
That would be it for the reappearing Mark Clayborn. He had been a part of her life that was now long gone. She wouldn’t be seeing him again.
Mark had never planned to return to Mobile to live permanently, but that had changed. He’d worked hard to make LA home. Even the few times he’d come back to Alabama he’d only stayed a few days and then gone again. When his father’s houseman had phoned to say Mark Clayborn, Sr. had suffered a stroke, Mark could no longer refuse not to make southern Alabama his home again. His mother was gone and his brother was in the military with no control over where he was stationed. Mark was left no choice. Someone needed to live close enough to take care of his father.
Pulling up the circular drive framed by a well-manicured yard in the center of the oldest section of homes in Mobile, Mark stopped in front of the antebellum mansion. This house had been his home for the twenty-five years before he had moved to LA. Now just his father lived here. Mark had chosen to take up residence forty-five minutes across the bay in the Clayborn summer house in Fairhope, Alabama. He had joined a general practice group made up of five doctors. The clinic was located in the town of Spanish Fort, which was halfway between Mobile and Fairhope. He lived and worked close enough to take care of his father and far enough away that memories of the past would remain murky instead of vivid.
It had been carnival season when he’d left for LA. He’d been riding high on being the king. His queen had been his girlfriend for the last two years and one of the most beautiful girls in Mobile society. He’d gotten his pick of medical fellowships that had allowed him to only be a few hours away in Birmingham. Gossips had it that he and his queen would ride off into the happily-ever-after as soon as he finished his fellowship. Mark had not planned to disappoint them. That was until he and Mike had decided they needed to drive to the beach after the krewe dance on Fat Tuesday night.
How many times since he’d been back had he picked up the phone to call and see how Mike was doing? How many times had he not followed through? He’d seen Mike a few times over the years. Those had been brief and uncomfortable meetings. Mark had always left with another wheelbarrow of guilt piled on top of the mountain that was already there.
He and Mike had made big plans. They had both been on their way to Birmingham, Mark to complete his fellowship and Mike to earn his Master’s in Business. They would return to town to set up a clinic practice, Mark handling the medical end and Mike overseeing the business side. They’d even talked about their families building homes next door to each other. But after the accident Mike’s longtime girlfriend had left him. Those dreams vanished. Because of Mark.
As time had gone by it had become easier to satisfy his need to know how Mike was doing by asking others about him. Often when Mark had spoken to his father he’d ask about Mike. His father had always encouraged him to call and talk to Mike if he wanted to know how he was doing. Mark hadn’t. That way the guilt didn’t become a throbbing, breathing thing.
Mark pushed the front doorbell of his father’s house then opened the door. He was met in the high-ceilinged hall by John, the man who had worked for Mark, Sr. since Mark, Jr. had been a boy.
“Hi. How’s he doing today?”
“Your dad has had a good day. He’s out by the pool.”
Mark headed down the all-too-familiar hall that led through the middle of the house and out onto the brick patio with the pool beyond. His father sat in a wheelchair in the sun, with his nurse nearby, reading a book. Mark winced at the sight. It hurt his heart to see the strong, commanding man brought to this by a stroke. Only with time and patience and massive amounts of physical therapy would he regain enough strength to walk again. At least his father had a chance of getting out of the chair, unlike Mike, who had no choice.
Mark circled his father so he faced him. “Hi, Dad.”
His white-haired father gave him a lopsided smile. “Hello, son.”
Fortunately his mind was still strong. His nurse closed her book and after a nod to Mark made her way toward the house.
Mark pulled a metal pool chair close so he could sit where his father could see him. “How are you doing today?”
“Fine. Emmett has been by to tell me what went on at the board meeting. He said you didn’t make it.”
“No, I had patients to see. We’ve talked about this already. You’ve put good people in place to handle the company. Let them do it.”
“It’s not the same. We need a Clayborn there.”
“I know, Dad.”
His father continued. “I’m glad you stopped by. I wanted to talk to you about attending the krewe dance next week. I can’t go and our family needs to be represented. You’re the only one to do it.”
Mark had always enjoyed the fanfare and glamour of The Mystical Order of Orion dance, the visit from the king and queen and their court. But after what had happened twelve years ago he was hesitant to attend. He took a deep breath. “It’s not really my thing anymore but I know it’s important to you to keep up appearances.”
“You were king. That is and was a high honor. You owe it to the krewe, to the Clayborn name to attend.”
“I know, Dad. I’ll do my duty.”
“This used to be your favorite time of the year. You need to let yourself off the hook, son. It wasn’t your fault.”
Maybe everyone thought that but Mark sure didn’t. He carried the horror of what had happened to Mike with him daily. Now that he was back in Mobile it was more alive than it had ever been. Time hadn’t healed the wound, only covered it over.
Mark had dinner with his father then headed across the bay to Fairhope, a small township where the family summer home was located. When he’d arrived in Alabama he’d needed a place to live. Staying in Fairhope gave him a house of his own, a safe haven. Since he was working at a clinic in Spanish Fort, a city just north of Fairhope, living there was convenient.
Entering the large dark room with hardwood paneling, Mark walked through to the family-style kitchen. There he pulled a drink out of the refrigerator and went out to the deck. Mobile Bay stretched far and wide before him. He could see the tall buildings of the city in the distance. The wind had picked up, rustling the shrubbery around the deck. A seagull swooped down and plucked a fish out of the water near the end of the pier. No, this wasn’t LA anymore.
Mark had agreed to pitch in and work the parades as a first responder when one of his new partners had said that they did that as a public service during Mardi Gras season. He’d agreed to do his part but had expected that it would be in some of the surrounding smaller towns. When he’d been assigned the parade in downtown Mobile he hadn’t felt like he could say no. He needed to be a team player since he’d only joined the medical group a few months earlier. Despite the parade location, Mark had enjoyed the assignment. Especially helping the young girl. Her mother had been attractive. More than once since then he’d wondered where she worked.
He’d spent the rest of the parade scanning the crowd. His chest still contracted at the thought he might see Mike. He’d spent years making a point of not thinking about the automobile accident. Now that he was back it seemed the only thing on his mind.
His cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket. “This is Dr. Clayborn.”
“Hey, Mark, it’s Ralph. We need you again the day after tomorrow if you can help us out. Afternoon parade in Dauphine.”
He didn’t mind working a parade in Dauphine. It was on his side of the bay. As long as it wasn’t in Mobile. There the chance of facing his past became greater. “Yeah, I’m only seeing patients in the morning. Will I be on a bike again?”
“Not this time. I just need you at the med tent. It’ll be set up in the First Baptist Church parking lot.”
“I’ll be there.”
“Marsha?” Laura Jo called as she and Allie opened the door of her best friend’s apartment Wednesday afternoon.
“Hey, we’re back here,” a voice came from the direction of the kitchen area located in the back of the apartment.
She followed Allie down the short hallway to find Marsha and her son, Jeremy, decorating a wagon with purple, green and gold ribbons.
Marsha looked up as they entered. “You know Mardi Gras almost kills me every year. I say I’m not going to do anything next year then here I am, doing even more.”
Allie had already joined in to help Jeremy with the decorations.
“I know what you mean. It makes working in the ER interesting. I’ve enjoyed my day off but I’ll pay for it, no doubt, by being on the night shift. I appreciate you letting Allie spend the night.”
“It’s not a problem. I love her like my own.” She ruffled Allie’s hair.
Laura Jo had met Marsha at the Mothers Without Partners clinic. Phil had lived up to all her father’s predictions and more when he’d left her pregnant and cleaned out their bank account to never be seen again. Even after all these years he hadn’t even checked to see if he had a son or daughter. Marsha’s husband had died in a fishing accident. She and Marsha had hit it off right away. Circumstances had brought them together but friendship had seen to it that they still depended on each other.
They’d shared an apartment for a few months and had traded off their time watching the kids while the other had worked or gone to school. They had their own apartments now but in the same complex and Marsha was more like family than the one Laura Jo had left behind.
They had joined forces to help other mothers who didn’t have anyone to fall back on. They had convinced the city to sell them an old home so these women would have a place to live and receive help while they were getting their lives in order. The deadline to pay for the house was looming. Finding the funding had become more difficult than Laura Jo had anticipated.
Marsha announced, “I heard from the city contact. He said we had to move soon on the house or the city will have to announce it’s for sale. They can’t hold it forever.”
Laura Jo groaned. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “How much time do we have?”
“Week or two. At least until things settle down after Mardi Gras. We’ve got to come up with a good way to raise a lot of money. Fast. I know you don’t want to do it but you do have the contacts. Maybe you could put on a party dress and go pick the pockets of all those society friends you used to hang around with.”
Laura Jo shook her head. “That’s not going to happen. We’ll have to find another way.”
What if she had to face her mother and father? Worse, have them see her asking for money. That’s what they had thought she’d be doing if she married Phil. That’s what he’d wanted her to do, but she’d refused. After her fight with her parents she and Phil had gone to Las Vegas that night to get married.
When they’d returned Phil had left to work on an oil rig. Three weeks later he’d come home. A week later all his pay had gone and he’d admitted he’d been fired. He’d made noises about looking for a job but in hindsight she didn’t think he’d ever really tried. Things had got worse between them. The issue that finally snapped them had been Laura Jo telling him she was pregnant. Phil’s snarling parting words were, “I didn’t sign on for no kid. You can’t put that on me. Having you is bad enough.”
Marsha gave her questioning look. “You know I’m kidding but …”
“I’ll come up with something.” She checked her watch. “Now, I have to get to the hospital.” Stepping toward Allie, Laura Jo said to Marsha, “I’ll meet you at the parade tomorrow evening.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Laura Jo leaned down and kissed Allie on the head. “See ya. Be good for Marsha.”
“I will,” Allie replied, then returned to what she was doing.
“Thanks, Marsha.” Laura Jo called as she went up the hall.
Six hours later, Laura Jo was longing for her dinner and a moment to put her feet up. She wasn’t going to get either anytime soon. Working in a trauma one level hospital meant a constant influx of patients, not only the regular cases but Mardi Gras’s as well, which brought out the revelers and daredevils. Weekend nights were the worst and the place resembled a circus with not enough clowns to go around. Everyone had their hands full. The doors were swishing open regularly with people coming in. The constant ringing of the phone filled the area, blending with the piercing scream of ambulance sirens.
As she stepped back into the nursing station the phone rang again. Seconds later the clerk called out, “Incoming. Sixty-seven-year-old male. Heart attack. Resuscitating in transit. Child with head trauma behind that. ETA ten.”
“I’ll take the heart. Trauma six.” Laura Jo hurried to set up what was needed before the patient arrived.
Minutes later the high-pitched sound of the ambulance arriving filled the air and Laura Jo rushed outside. The double rear doors of the vehicle stood wide open. Usually by this time the EMTs would be unloading the patient.
Looking inside, she immediately recognized the EMT working over the patient but not the other man. Then she did. Mark Clayborn. Again he was wearing red biking shorts and a yellow shirt of a first responder.
Mark held the portable oxygen bubble away from the patient as the EMT placed the defibrillator paddles on the patient’s chest. The body jerked. The beep of the machine monitoring the heart rate started and grew steadier. Putting the earpieces of the stethoscope that had been around his neck into place, Mark listened to the man’s heart. “Let’s get him inside,” he said with a sharp tone of authority. He then made an agile jump to the ground, turned toward the interior of the ambulance and helped bring out the patient on the stretcher.
Although confused by why he had been allowed in the emergency vehicle, she still followed his lead. It was against policy to ride in the back unless you were part of the EMT staff. But now wasn’t the time for questions. She stood aside while the two men lifted out the stretcher. The wheels dropped to the pavement and Laura Jo wrapped her hand around the yellow metal frame and pulled. Mark kept his fingers on the pulse point of the patient’s wrist while the EMT pushed.
They had reached the doors when Mark said, “We’re losing him again.”
Tall enough to lean over and push on the patient’s chest, he began compressions. Another nurse met them and gave oxygen. Laura Jo kept moving ahead, her arm burning. To her relief, they got the patient into the trauma room. There Mark and the EMT used the defibrillator once again. Seconds later the monitor made a beep and the line went from straight to having peaks and valleys. After they gained a steady pulse, she worked to place leads to the monitors on the patient. The ER doctor rushed in.
Mark and the EMT backed away with exhausted sighs, giving the ER doctor, Laura Jo and the other staff members space to work. For the next twenty intensive minutes, Laura Jo followed the ER doctor’s instructions to the letter. Finally they managed to stabilize the patient enough to send him to surgery.
Laura Jo had to talk to the family. They must be scared. When she asked the admission clerk where they were she was told exam room five.
“Why are they in an exam room?”
“The man’s granddaughter is being evaluated.”
Laura Jo headed for the exam room. It shouldn’t have surprised her that Mark was there, too. He came out as she was preparing to go in.
“Well, fancy meeting you here,” he drawled in a deep voice that made her think of a dark velvet night.
“It’s not that amazing really. I work here.”
“I figured that out. So how’s your daughter? Healing nicely?”
“She’s fine. A little tender but fine.”
“Good. By the way, I’m Dr. Mark Clayborn.”
“Yes, I know who you are. As in the Clayborn Building, Clayborn Bank, Clayborn Shipping.
He gave her a studying look. “Do I know you?”
“I’m Laura Jo Akins. Used to be Laura Jo Herron.”
“Herron? My parents used to talk about the Herrons. Robert Herron. Real estate.”
She looked away. “Yes, that’s my father.”
He had pursed his lips. “Well, that’s a surprise. Isn’t it a small world?”
Too small for Laura Jo’s comfort. It was time to change the subject. “Thanks for helping out. Now I need to talk to the family.” She gave the door to the exam room a quick knock and pushed it open.
It turned out that she was wasting her time. “The nice Dr. Clayborn” had updated them and also seen to Lucy, their little girl, but they appreciated Laura Jo coming in. By the time she’d returned to the nursing station things seemed to be under control in the ER. All the exam and trauma rooms were full. The critical cases were being cared for. Those waiting were not serious.
“Why don’t you take your supper break while you can?” the lead nurse said.
“Are you sure?”
“It’s now or never. You know the closer we get to Fat Tuesday the merrier it gets around here.”
Laura Jo laughed. “If merry is what you want to call it. Okay, I’ll go.”
“I’d rather call it merry otherwise I think I might cry,” the lead nurse said with a grin.
Laura Jo grabbed her lunch box. It had become a habit to pack a lunch when money had been so tight even before Phil had left. Reaching the cafeteria, she scanned the room for an empty table. The busy ER translated to a full room. As soon as a table opened up she headed for it. Before she could get to it Mark slid into one of the two seats available. Disappointed, she stopped and looked around for another spot.
He waved her toward him. “You can join me, if you like.”
Laura Jo looked at him. Did she really have a choice? She was expected back in the ER soon. “Thank you.”
He grinned at her. “You don’t sound too excited about it.”
What was he expecting her to say? You’re right, I’m not? “I have to eat. The ER won’t stay calm for long.”
“It did look a little wild in there. I’ve certainly had more than my share this evening. I haven’t done this much emergency work since I was on my med school rotation. Don’t see many head trauma and heart attacks in family practice.”
Laura Jo pulled her sandwich out of the plastic bag. “I understand that the girl was sitting on top of her father’s shoulders and toppled off. When the grandfather saw what had happened he had a heart attack.”
“Yeah. Thank goodness it all happened within running distance of the med tent. For a few minutes there wasn’t enough of us medical personal around to handle all that was going on. I’m just glad the girl has regained consciousness and the grandfather is stable.”
“The girl will be here for observation for at least one night and the grandfather for much longer, I’m afraid.”
He took a large bite of his hamburger and they ate in silence for a while before he asked, “So you knew who I was the other day. Why didn’t you say something?”
