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“A sandwich, then, please.”
“Okay.”
Moments later he heard her clattering around in the kitchen and he started feeling guilty. She had enough to do, cleaning up after the party. Then again, there wouldn’t have been a party if she hadn’t arranged it.
A short time later she set a tray in front of him—a sliced barbecued-beef sandwich and a bowl of thick potato soup. He wasn’t sure how she’d managed this. The soup tasted homemade. Maybe Anne or Allison had brought over some dishes already cooked, along with the groceries.
“Is that all right?”
“Mmm, yes, it’s fine.”
She smiled, then resumed her cleaning efforts.
He couldn’t wait to hear what Deborah Chatsworth would say on the subject of his nurse, not to mention Reverend Crane. In fact, he was pretty sure everyone who’d met Sherry would have an opinion on the subject.
What a relief it would be to tell them, “She’s already gone. I fired her.”
“Those choir ladies from the church sure seem nice,” Sherry said as she sprayed some furniture polish on the coffee table.
Jonathan didn’t know to which ladies she referred, since he seldom noticed the choir when he went to church. “Mmm-hmm.”
“It’s a shame, them missing out on their practice.”
“Mmm-hmm. What?”
“It seems Reverend Crane rented out the church hall to the high school dance squad to practice their routines while the gymnasium floor is being repaired. The church needs the money, so the choir ladies don’t blame the reverend.”
“No, I don’t imagine so.” Jonathan picked up his book, hoping to discourage Sherry’s idle chitchat. He wasn’t much for flapping his gums just to fill silence. He soon learned, however, that this conversation had a very specific purpose.
“But the choir has no place to practice.”
“Can’t they practice in the church?”
“Thin walls. They tried it once, but pretty soon they were all singing the disco song the dance squad was playing, and the dance squad girls were all kicking each other in the head because the singing next door was throwing off their rhythm.”
“That’s a shame,” he said.
“The reason I’m telling you all this is, well, I felt sorry for them, so I invited them to come practice here.”
“What?” He couldn’t have heard right.
“The invitation popped out of my mouth before I could stop it. There’s plenty of space, if we move the furniture out of these two rooms.” She indicated the living and dining rooms, which were separated only by a short bookcase. “And set out folding chairs—”
“Are you out of your mind?” he roared. “The church choir? Here?”
“The music will cheer you up. Doctors have done studies, you know, and—”
“The music will not cheer me up. Having fifty strange women in my house will make me exceedingly cranky.”
“There are only thirty-two members in the choir.”
“Look, Sherry. I don’t like parties. I don’t like company. And I particularly don’t like a lot of jabbering women who only stop jabbering when they sing—off-key, I might add.”
She looked stricken. “But I’ve already invited them.”
“Then you can just uninvite them.”
“But that would be rude.”
“Did it ever occur to you that inviting them without consulting me first was rude? And this wedding reception—you didn’t ask me about that, either. You just bulldozed ahead, like you owned the place.”
“But I thought…I thought you’d be pleased. Allison mentioned how disappointed you were to miss the wedding, and I thought—”
“You thought wrong.”
She drooped. “All right. I’ll uninvite the choir. And next time I’ll ask before I issue any invitations like that.”
“There won’t be a next time.” Jonathan already felt like he’d kicked a puppy. He might as well get the rest of this over with.
Sherry blinked her green eyes at him a couple of times. “What?”
“Look, this isn’t working out. You simply don’t fit in here. It’s obvious you can’t manage the children. Yelling at them and then bribing them with sweets is no way to deal with kids. Anyway, I can take care of things myself. I’ve been getting around on the crutches okay.”
Sherry faced him squarely, her hands on her slim hips. “You turn white as Wonder Bread every time you stand up and totter around on those crutches. You most certainly cannot take care of yourself. How are you going to look after those kids? They move faster than the speed of light.”
“I’ll manage.”
“How will you cook for them?”
“That’s what a microwave is for. It couldn’t be any worse than—” He stopped himself, but she already knew what he was going to say.
“I got the message. You hate my cooking.”
“It’s a bit spicy. We’re used to more basic fare. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you for the time you’ve been here, plus a few days extra for the trouble you went to.”
“I can do better. All you have to do is tell me when you don’t like something, and I’ll…” her voice trailed off when she realized Jonathan wasn’t going to budge. She slumped in defeat. “All right, then. I’ll just finish cleaning up in here, then I’ll pack my things.”
“Leave the mess. I have a service that comes every two weeks. They’ll be here Monday morning.”
She slowly set down the plastic cup she’d been holding. She stared at him a moment, eyes challenging, but only for a moment. Then she swept from the room.
He’d made her cry, he realized. He hadn’t intended to be harsh. He just wanted her gone. Surely even she could see that this wasn’t a compatible employer-employee relationship.
Chapter Four
Sherry waited until she reached the safety of her room before she let the tears fly. How could she have read the situation so wrong? She’d thought everything was going pretty well. She’d thought having the wedding reception here was a stroke of genius. She’d thought inviting the choir to sing here would cheer Jonathan up. Lord knew his mood needed improvement.
But she’d been completely off the mark.
What was wrong with her? Jonathan’s words echoed in her head as she hastily packed her clothes. You don’t fit in here. That was what the office manager at her last job had said when she’d fired Sherry. Too flamboyant. Too colorful. Too loud for a prestigious medical practice. Later, she’d overheard one of the other nurses describe Sherry, using the word “cheap.”
Though the criticisms had hurt, Sherry had eventually been able to dismiss them. Dr. Crossly’s office was a snobbish operation where patients felt privileged to be overcharged, and the nurses were valued for their family connections over their medical skills. She’d even convinced herself that those drab nurses she worked with had been jealous of her natural charm and had conspired to get rid of her.
Now she was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t a grain of truth in the criticisms. Was her trailer-trash upbringing so apparent? She liked to think of herself as stylish. She pored over fashion magazines, then haunted discount stores and designer outlets, recreating the outfits, following the dos and don’ts. Maybe her personal style wasn’t just a bit colorful, but loud and trashy?
What would she have to look like to “fit in” in Jonathan’s world? Thinking back to the wedding guests, she recalled several who’d worn bright colors and high heels. Some had even worn hats. So it wasn’t her clothes that set her apart.
If it wasn’t her clothes, it must be her behavior. Did she laugh too loud? Talk too much?
Oh, well, what did it matter? She was leaving Cottonwood and she’d probably never set foot within the town limits again.
Sherry changed out of her dress-up clothes and into comfortable leggings and a long sweater for the drive home. When everything else was packed, she started hauling her bags to the front door. Jonathan, still ensconced in his chair, hid behind his book and pretended he didn’t see her.
She was on her third trip when Sam entered the living room. “Dad? Kristin has a stomachache.”
“I’m not surprised,” Jonathan said in a grumpy voice. “She must have eaten four pieces of cake and I don’t know how much punch she drank.”
“She says it really hurts.”
“Get her some Pepto-Bismol. It’s in the medicine chest in my bathroom.”
“I’ll check on her,” Sherry said automatically.
Jonathan gave her a dark look. “I think you’ve done enough.”
Sherry ignored him and headed for Kristin’s bedRoom. Fired or not, she wasn’t going to ignore a child in pain, especially if it was her fault.
When she entered Kristin’s room, the sight that greeted her was disturbing to say the least. Kristin lay on the bed, still in her fancy dress, holding her stomach and moaning softly.
Sherry sat on the edge of her bed. “Kristin?”
“It hurts,” Kristin said, almost in tears.
“I’m going to do what I can to make it better, okay?” She felt the little girl’s forehead. It was hot to the touch. She turned to Sam, who was watching anxiously. “Sam, can you get me a thermometer?”
He nodded and bolted out of the room to do her bidding.
Sherry gently palpated Kristin’s stomach and abdomen, and almost immediately found the source of the pain. The child had a hot appendix, Sherry would stake her life on it. She’d seen dozens of similar cases when she’d worked in emergency medicine.
“Hate to tell you, punkin’, but you’re going to the hospital.”
Kristin started crying in earnest. “I hate the hospital. All they do is stick you with needles.”
“I know, sweetie, but they only do it so you can get well.” Pushed by adrenaline, Sherry lifted Kristin into her arms and carried her to the living room.
Jonathan, thank God, grasped the urgency of the situation immediately. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Her appendix. I’m taking her to the hospital. Where’s the closest one?”
“Tyler. Out Highway 60, north. When you reach Tyler, turn left at the first light. Hospital’s about half a mile on the right.”
Sherry listened as she grabbed her purse and her keys, somehow juggling everything and Kristin, too. “Got it. Call ahead and let them know I’m coming. Tell them it’s urgent.”
“Okay. Jeff or my dad will meet you there.”
“Right. Sam, you stay here and take care of your dad.”
Sam, whose face had gone white, nodded.
Less than a minute later, Sherry strapped Kristin into the passenger seat of the Firebird, hit the gas and zoomed down the driveway. She could have called an ambulance, but she’d been afraid that out in the country medical help would take too long to arrive. She, on the other hand, had a fast car and the nerve to give it the gas.
“You’ve been to the hospital before?” Sherry asked Kristin, hoping to distract her from the pain.
She nodded miserably. “Cut my head—had to have an operation.”
“Oh, that doesn’t sound like much fun. How did it happen?”
“I was jumping on the bed…fell off.”
Sherry had seen her share of those types of accidents. In fact, she’d been one of them. The infamous bike accident. Except she hadn’t been riding a bike. Her father had broken a chair over her head when as a teenager she’d told him she was pregnant. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on her past mistakes or the child she’d given up. She had a child in the here and now who needed her full attention.
Sherry had no trouble finding the hospital. When she pulled into emergency, two orderlies and a gurney were there to meet them. The orderlies took Kristin from the car, strapped her onto the gurney and whisked her inside just as Jeff’s Porsche pulled up.
He jumped out, leaving the engine running and ran up to Sherry. “What happened?”
“Stomachache, nausea, high fever, extreme sensitivity in the lower right abdomen.”
“Could be a lot of—”
“It’s her appendix.”
“No offense, Sherry, but you’re not a—”
“I’m a nurse practitioner and I’m qualified to make a diagnosis. It’s her appendix.” She turned and headed back to her car.
“Wait, where are you going?”
“Back to Dallas. Your brick-headed brother fired me, and by law that means I have to leave.”
Though she wanted to stay until Kristin was out of danger, she couldn’t. She had no right. She’d gotten Kristin into competent medical hands, and that meant her role in the Hardison family was over. She climbed back into her car and took off, before Jeff could see she was crying…again.
SAM HAD LONG AGO stopped wanting to be cuddled, but this night he crawled into Jonathan’s recliner with him, somehow managing to avoid jostling the broken leg.
“Is Kristy gonna be all right?”
“We’ll know more soon,” Jonathan said.
“How come she’s always going to the hospital? I never went, not once.”
