Forever's Promise

“According to her, it’s stomach pains,” Xavier answered.

“Yeah, right. I think she’s suffering from Horny Woman Syndrome. It’s been going around since a certain doctor pulled into town.”

Xavier pitched his head back and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I swear I’m not doing anything to encourage them.”

“You don’t have to, darling. You’re young, single, handsome and a doctor. You’re like a virus that every desperate woman within a twenty-mile radius wants to catch.”

“Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better.”

Patricia’s laughter followed him as he made his way to the small employees’ lounge and poured himself a cup of six-hour-old coffee. He didn’t bother with sugar or cream; this was purely for survival. He’d pulled a double shift and was dead on his feet.

The door opened and Bruce Saunders, who was currently one of only two permanent E.R. physicians at Maplesville General, walked in.

“How’s it going?” Bruce asked. “I heard you had another female patient with a mysterious ailment who refused to see any doctor but Dr. Wright.”

Xavier held his hands out, exasperation weighing his shoulders down. “In the month that I’ve been here I swear that’s the tenth woman who’s managed to get past triage with some trumped-up illness.”

“This place hasn’t been this busy in a while.” Bruce chuckled, pouring himself a cup of the stale coffee. “At least some good has come from it. Yesterday, Patricia discovered that Etta Mae Watson had a staph infection on the back of her leg that she knew nothing about. Chasing after you probably saved her life.”

The door opened again, and another of the nurses said, “We have two patients waiting. A vomiting three-year-old and Jackson Pritchard with chest pains.”

“I’ll take Mr. Pritchard,” Bruce said. “I had to crack his chest open a couple of years ago.”

“He’s behind trauma curtain three. Dr. Wright, I put the three-year-old in the private exam room.”

Xavier downed the rest of his lukewarm coffee in one gulp and headed out of the lounge. At least he didn’t have to worry about a three-year-old faking an illness in hopes of being seen by the shiny new doctor.

He punched the number the nurse gave him into his electronic tablet and pulled up the patient’s chart before entering the room. The younger of two little girls was seated on the exam table. Her mother stood to the left of her, rubbing a soothing hand along the little girl’s back. One side of her shirt was streaked with a yellowish substance.

“What do we have here?” Xavier asked.

“I don’t know what’s going on with her,” the mom said. The slight tremble in her voice betrayed the anxiety she was likely trying to hide for the sake of her daughters.

Xavier waited for her to catch his gaze. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “We’ll take care of her.”

The mother nodded, though her eyes teemed with distress.

“Let’s have a look.” He leaned the child back on the table and lightly pressed her stomach. Her face contorted and she sat up straight. Xavier backed away just in time. She unloaded brilliant yellow vomit all over the floor and her hospital gown.

“There she goes again,” the older girl said.

“How many times has she vomited?” Xavier asked the mother as he grabbed a clean hospital gown from a small closet and ripped off the plastic. He lifted the soiled gown and draped the fresh one over the girl.

“I’m not sure,” the mother said.

She looked to the older child, who said in a soft voice, “Three times, I think.”

“So this would make four,” the mother said. “No, five. Someone needs to clean the parking lot outside.”

Xavier sent her a reassuring smile. “I’ll let maintenance know.”

“Is it bile?” the mother asked. “She’s vomiting bile, isn’t she?”

“Nah, it’s not bile,” Xavier said. He dipped his head, bringing it to eye level with the toddler. “What I want to know is why is it such a pretty color? Have you been eating candy?”

The little girl shook her head.

“You sure?” Xavier asked.

“I promise,” she said in a thready whisper.

The mother plopped a hand on her forehead. “Oh, God. I know what it is.” She looked to the older girl. “Did you two try dyeing eggs?” The question was met with complete silence. “Cassidy, I told you to wait until I woke from my nap.” She turned his attention to him. “I should have suspected this from the start.”

Xavier’s bullshit meter started to buzz. He wasn’t the world’s greatest parenting expert, but this seemed sketchy. What mother would leave two young children unsupervised with egg-dyeing materials in plain view?

“Were you using regular food coloring, or was it one of those egg-dyeing kits?” Xavier asked the mother.

“It’s a kit.”

“It’s probably nontoxic, but you’ll need to check the packaging just to make sure.” He stooped to the little girl’s eye level. “I’m going to get Nurse Patricia to give you some medicine. It will make you throw up again, but then I promise you’ll feel a lot better.”

The mother’s shoulders wilted in relief. She ran a hand along the little girl’s arm.

Xavier had not seen a phonier display of concern since he arrived in Maplesville. It pissed him off, because she’d had him going there for a moment with her fearful, worried act.

He straightened back to his full height and addressed the mother. “Mom, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”

A moment’s confusion flashed across her face before she shook her head and said, “I’m Kristi’s aunt, not her mom.”

Even worse. Using her niece.

“The hallway?” Xavier repeated, motioning to the door. “Wait here one minute,” he said once they’d exited the room. He went over to the nurse’s station and relayed orders to Patricia, then gestured for the aunt to follow him to the small alcove that housed the vending machines and a water fountain.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the rest of the E.R.’s occupants, he turned and said, “The only reason I’m not calling child protective services is because your niece will be fine once the ipecac makes her throw up the rest of the dye she ingested, but pull something like this again and I’ll have CPS out here before you can blink.”

The woman’s head reared back. “Excuse me?”

“Feeding a three-year-old dye?”

Her eyes grew wide. “You think I gave her the dye?”

“Don’t even try it.” Xavier crossed his arms over his chest, a disdainful sneer on his lips. “The women in this town have done some outrageous things to get into my E.R., but you came very close to crossing a line.”

Her expression morphed from shock to rage.

“Are you serious? You think I tried to poison my own niece just to meet you?” She waved her hands down the front of her body. “Do I look like I’m on the prowl for a damn man?”

Xavier took a moment to study her appearance, from her hair, that looked as if she had just gotten out of bed, to the vomit-covered T-shirt and Minnie Mouse house slippers on her feet. She hadn’t bothered with fancy clothes and the full makeup routine as the other women who’d come here trying to hit on him. She looked like someone who’d grabbed a sick child and hauled ass to the E.R.

Her beautiful dark brown eyes became murderous as she stepped up to him.

“Look, you egotistical asshole. I can’t speak for the other women in this town, but let me make one thing clear. Meeting you was the last thing on my mind when I stepped into this E.R. I didn’t even know you would be in this E.R. Do you really think I would endanger my own niece on the off chance that you might be working today?”

Her chest rose and fell with the sharp breaths she sucked in following her fiery tirade. Rage had her nostrils flaring, those brown eyes intense and full of fury.

It was a magnificent sight to behold.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” she said, “but you are not all that, Dr. Wright. Not even close.”

She looked him up and down, as if he was a nasty wad of gum she’d found stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“I’m sorry,” Xavier started. “I—”

She put her hand up. “Save it. And do not follow me back to that exam room. I don’t want you anywhere near my niece.”

Xavier tried to speak, but found himself at a loss for words as he watched her stomp back to the exam room.

He also found himself slightly aroused.

The realization came as such a shock that, for a moment, it left him paralyzed, unable to do anything but stare at the faux-wood exam room door that had just shut behind her. He should be appalled by his body’s reaction.

Instead, Xavier briefly closed his eyes and soaked in the feeling.

It had been so damn long since he’d felt anything. He needed to savor this. He wanted to remember it when he was sitting at home, alone, trying to recall what it felt like to have that kind of passion flowing through his veins.

Chapter 2

Shayla pulled her Volvo coupe under the detached aluminum carport next to her side kitchen door, but she didn’t move. Instead, she let the engine idle as she continued to grip the steering wheel with both hands. There had been utter silence throughout the entire twenty-minute drive from the hospital in Maplesville. She’d spent most of the ride sending up prayers of thanks that Kristi’s condition had turned out to be nothing serious.

She’d spent the remainder of the ride trying to quell her rage over that cocky E.R. doctor and the ridiculous conclusion he’d jumped to. As if she would ever do something so desperate.

Her annoyance only grew when she realized he must be the new doctor all the teachers were foaming at the mouth over at The Jazzy Bean earlier that day. No wonder Mr. Conceited had made such an outrageous assumption. After the talk she’d overheard at the coffeehouse, she wouldn’t put it past some of the women to go to such lengths.

Shayla didn’t care how gorgeous he was—and, don’t get her wrong, he was gorgeous—but she would never put her niece in danger just to score an introduction. She may have been thunderstruck by those whiskey-brown eyes the moment he’d stepped into the exam room, but she wasn’t that desperate.

After she’d put the cocky doctor in his place, they’d remained at the hospital for another half hour, until Kristi had vomited twice more. The nurse had given her fluids to guard against dehydration and sent them home with instructions to give her Gatorade and keep the egg dye out of children’s reach.

Someone shouldn’t have had to tell her that. It should have been a given. As excited as they were about dyeing the eggs, she should have known the girls would do something like this.

But, then again, what did she know about kids?

“You are so in over your head,” she muttered. Shayla released a deep, tired breath as she cut the engine and opened the door.

She went to the back passenger side and unstrapped a sleeping Kristi from her car seat. Hefting the toddler into her arms, Shayla whispered to Cassidy, “Let’s get in the house.”

She recoiled at the thought of having to reprimand her niece, but Shayla knew it had to be done. She’d given specific instructions that the dye was not to be touched until she woke up. It was bad enough that they’d disobeyed, but being the eldest, Cassidy should have known better than to allow her little sister to put the dye anywhere near her mouth.

Of course, the ultimate responsibility fell to her. She was the adult in charge. It didn’t matter that she was tired enough to fall asleep this very second; she should have been paying attention to the girls, not napping.

Shayla carried Kristi into the guest bedroom and undressed her, taking care not to wake her. She used a warm washcloth to wipe her down, then took a page from Gayle’s book and dressed her in the old, worn USC Trojans T-shirt she’d had since freshman year. Other than a little squirming, Kristi hardly moved. The poor baby was exhausted. Shayla could sympathize.

When she returned to the kitchen, Cassidy was sitting at the table, picking at the bright blue fingernail polish she’d painted on this past Saturday during their pamper party—another of Shayla’s attempts to connect with her nieces. Only the light above the stove illuminated the room.

“Do you want some juice?” Shayla asked, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard and a bottle of cranberry juice from the refrigerator. Cassidy shook her head, but Shayla filled the glass halfway and set it in front of her, anyway.

She took the chair opposite her niece, placed both elbows on the table and massaged her temples. She wasn’t even sure how to begin this conversation.

Since she’d returned to Gauthier with some half-formed idea to help her sister-in-law raise her nieces, she could count on her fingers the number of times Cassidy had spoken to her without considerable prompting. Over the past three days, she’d opened up several times, even joining Shayla and Kristi in an impromptu karaoke concert Saturday night. Shayla didn’t want to hinder the small bit of progress she’d made with Cassidy by coming down on her with a heavy lecture.

But she couldn’t allow what had happened tonight to just slide. She wasn’t here to make friends with an eight-year-old; she was here to help raise her. Disciplinarian was part of the job description.

“Cass, didn’t I tell you that we would dye the eggs later?” Shayla started.

Pulling her trembling bottom lip between her teeth, Cassidy nodded.

“Your sister could have been seriously hurt if those dyes were toxic. You know better than to put them in your mouth, but Kristi doesn’t. This could have been very, very bad, Cassidy.”

Dread cascaded down Shayla’s spine just thinking about what could have happened. Goodness, how did parents do this 24/7 for eighteen years? It had been just over three days and she was ready to climb the walls.

“Promise me you won’t disobey in the future,” Shayla said.

“I promise,” Cassidy mumbled. The dour frown on her face told Shayla that the little headway she’d made in softening Cass’s feelings toward her had just evaporated. Great.

“Why don’t you get ready for bed,” Shayla said. “You have school tomorrow, and it’s already past your bedtime.”

Cass remained stoic as she rose and lumbered down the narrow hallway toward the bedrooms. Shayla remained at the kitchen table, sipping her cranberry juice and trying to talk herself out of adding vodka to the glass. She’d messed up once already tonight. She knew better than to render herself completely incapacitated by drinking alcohol while the girls were still under her watch.

She set the glass on the table and covered her face with both hands.

“What in the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

She had never been the type to make rash decisions. Her careful, methodical thinking had taken her from being a lowly junior marketing assistant to the executive director of community relations at one of the country’s largest coffeehouse chains. Yet she’d succumbed to the impulsive decision to return to her hometown, turning her once well-ordered life completely upside down. What on earth had possessed her to do that?

“You know exactly what brought you back here,” Shayla whispered before downing the last of her juice in one gulp.

Guilt.

Suffocating, unrelenting, soul-crushing guilt. And if leaving her previous life behind so she could do right by her brother’s family was the only way to assuage that smothering guilt, then so be it.

Shayla set the juice glasses in the sink, made sure the back door was locked and went in to check on the girls. Kristi was still sound asleep. Cassidy was in bed, reading an R. L. Stein Goosebumps book.

A smile drew across Shayla’s lips. Like father, like daughter. Braylon had kept stacks of Bobbsey Twins mystery paperbacks next to his bed when he was younger.

Why did you leave these two babies?

How she wished she could ask him that question face-to-face.

It took some effort to swallow past the lump that instantly formed in her throat. Once she was able to clear it, she said, “Ten more minutes, okay, Cass?” The girl nodded. “Good night. I love you, honey.”

Cassidy didn’t respond.

Shayla’s eyes closed briefly in defeat before she pulled the door, leaving a five-inch gap. She went into her bedroom and barely managed to change into her own old, comfortable T-shirt before falling onto the bed and into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Shayla was nearly a half hour late making it to The Jazzy Bean. Unlike yesterday, Gayle had not been there to help get Kristi and Cass off to school. She’d enjoyed her first weekend alone with the girls, but she would probably weep in relief when Leslie picked them up tonight.

It was no surprise that Lucinda had everything running like a well-oiled machine by the time Shayla arrived at The Jazzy Bean. And, thank God, Erin was back behind the counter.

“I am so happy to see you,” Shayla told her, giving her a brief hug. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to run the front end of a coffeehouse on my own.”

“I probably could have come in yesterday afternoon, but I wanted to make sure I was completely over the virus before I returned to work.”

“Good girl,” Shayla said. “Spoken like a future pediatrician.”

“I talked to Desiree this morning. She’s still in the don’t-stray-too-far-from-the-bathroom phase.” Erin grimaced. “Believe me, you don’t want her here.”

“Lucinda and I did okay yesterday. We can handle it now that you’re back,” Shayla said.

Despite wanting to run from the building screaming during yesterday’s lunchtime rush, for the most part she’d enjoyed being back in the thick of things. She wasn’t about to give up Erin and Desiree—not by a long shot—but at the end of the day Shayla had felt a sense of accomplishment she hadn’t experienced since her early days with her old company, when she was still climbing her way up the bottom rungs of the ladder.

The morning crowd mostly consisted of regulars, with a smattering of unknown faces that stopped in on their way to the site of the new concrete plant being built just off Highway 190 a few towns over. One of the contractors had stumbled upon The Jazzy Bean a few weeks ago and bought coffee for the rest of his crew. It had become a ritual. Someone came in at least three days a week, ordering one of the carryout cartons that held a gallon of coffee.

That thought brought up another one.

Shayla looked over from where she was adding bagels to the tray inside the display case. “Hey, Erin, will you be able to deliver coffee to the clinic this morning?”

“Not unless you want to make the drinks,” Erin called over the noise of the coffee grinder.

“I don’t think so,” Shayla said. Yesterday had exposed her limits. Although she still had some skills behind the espresso machine, when it came to barista duties, Erin was far superior.

She was really missing Desiree right about now. Her manager was the one who usually slipped out during the slow period to bring coffee to the health clinic.

Since its doors opened about two months before, The Jazzy Bean had provided free coffee and breakfast pastries to the doctors and nurses who volunteered at the clinic that had been the brainchild of local attorney turned state senator, Matthew Gauthier. Matt had recently won his position in a special election and, in a surprise to no one, had quickly set out to improve life in Gauthier.

Residents could receive health screenings and checkups for a nominal fee, which Shayla learned was code for “whatever folks could afford to pay.” The supplies were bought using donations, and the medical professionals donated their time. Shayla figured providing a light breakfast was the very least she could do.

She filled a travel carton with today’s dark roast and prepared a large cup with decaf for the one nurse who didn’t drink regular. She grabbed a plastic tray and loaded it with the oatmeal, cranberry and flaxseed breakfast bars she ordered from the organic bakery in New Orleans that supplied her healthier pastries. She was still having a hard time convincing customers to try the heart-healthy food selections, but Shayla claimed a small victory every time someone got on board.

The clinic was an easy walk, only a couple of blocks down, in a single-story bungalow on Cooper Lane once owned by Matt Gauthier’s family.

She walked up the front steps and encountered Tanya Miller exiting the clinic. Tanya had lived directly across the street from the house Shayla had grown up in, where Leslie now lived with the girls. She was accompanied by a teenager who looked as if he’d come out on the losing end of a battle with the flu.

“Hey there, Shayla,” Tanya said, holding the door open for her. “I was just on my way to your place to get some soup. I hope Lucinda has chicken noodle on the menu today.”

“Chicken and rice.”

“Close enough,” Tanya said. “Maybe I’ll be able to get this one to eat something.”

“Good luck with that,” Shayla said, eyeing the boy. She entered the clinic and called out a hello to the half-dozen people seated in folding chairs in the lobby.

“Shayla! How are you?” Shayla turned to find Malinda Donaldson walking toward her. Malinda was once a friendly rival on the Maplesville Mustangs’ Quiz Bowl team. The Gauthier High Lions had never lost a single match to them throughout Shayla’s high school career. Yes, she had been a nerd. And she was damn proud of it, too.

“Hi there, Malinda. I didn’t know you were back in Maplesville. You were somewhere in Texas, right?”

“Yep. Dallas. Moved there after Hurricane Katrina. My oldest just started at LSU so I decided to move back home. It was time.”

Shayla nodded. “Eventually I guess we all come back home.”

Malinda put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I was so sorry to hear about Braylon,” she said, her voice taking on that somber tone that usually accompanied any conversation surrounding Shayla’s brother.

“Thank you. It hasn’t been easy.” She held up the coffee and pastries. “Where can I put these? Desiree usually delivers the goodies, but she’s out sick.”

“We have a break room back here. Thanks for providing the coffee, by the way,” she called over her shoulder. “It means a lot.”

“It’s the very least I can do. The time you all volunteer at this place has been such a blessing for Gauthier’s residents.”

She followed Malinda into the break room and came face-to-face with the E.R. doctor from last night.

“Oh, great.” Shayla snorted. She moved past him, setting the coffee and pastries on the square card table in the middle of the room. Then she turned around and addressed him. “Before that huge head of yours gets any bigger, know that I had no idea you would be here. This isn’t some ploy to put me in your illustrious presence once again.”

“I’m sorry about—”

She put both hands up. “I’m not interested in your apology.”

“Is there a problem?” Malinda asked, looking back and forth between them.

“Oh, I just don’t want God’s gift to women over here thinking I’m going to attack him in a fit of passion.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and slanted her a sardonic look. It goaded her that the egotistical bastard had the nerve to have such gorgeous eyes—eyes that were currently roaming over her with enough cynicism to choke a small animal.

“You done being self-righteous?” he asked.

“Not sure yet. Are you done accusing me of trying to commit child murder?”

Those striking eyes narrowed with irritation. “Don’t you think you’re blowing this out of proportion? And I apologize for what happened at the hospital last night.”

“No, I don’t think I’m blowing this out of proportion, and your apology is not accepted.”

She brushed past him on her way out of the break room. He followed. So did Malinda, who seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, if the smile on her face was any indication.

“How is your niece doing?” he called after her.

“She’s just fine. And if it’ll put your mind at ease, know that I didn’t try to poison her today.”