Читать книгу Ready-Made Family - Cheryl Wyatt - Страница 12

Amelia wanted to crawl under the covers and die. Well, not die, exactly. Just disappear for a good five minutes. She hated handouts. Hated to be the one burdening people. But the guy was right. No need spending money she didn’t have just because pride trumped common sense.

Speaking of common sense, what kind of crazy guy would leave his phone with a complete stranger? Definitely, this Ben character was cut from a different mold than any other guy she’d encountered.

And what on earth did he want to talk to her about tomorrow? Multiple scenarios hulked through her head, all confrontational. Dread settled in for what he would say when he saw her next. Probably found something else to scold her about.

Well, she could escape and evade all that if she could get out of here and get to her job.

Ugh! But then there was the problem of the doctor wanting her to follow up days after releasing her. If she went against medical advice, that would not only be unsafe healthwise, but an insurance company might decline her as a client once she got caught up enough to afford premiums for her and Reece.

Dialing Refuge’s police department, Amelia asked what she would need to verify ownership of the car. They repeated the information Ben told her and stated they’d given her the benefit of the doubt and towed it to the local garage.

Towed. That meant it wasn’t drivable.

Amelia shook off discouragement and phoned the garage. No answer. She tried again. No answer. Maybe they weren’t open on Sunday. Then how could police have dropped the car off?

She called a third time. After ten rings, a garbled answering machine sputtered on. She left a message after the closest thing resembling a beep. That no one answered, and that the garage answering machine sounded like it needed transmission fluid—or worse, a complete overhaul—didn’t make her feel good.

A knock at the door broke into her thoughts. “Hello, Miss North. It’s Doc Callahan. You decent?”

According to her dad, that was debatable. She adjusted her blankets. “Yes. Please come in.” And let me outta here!

The room curtain parted and he entered. “Nurse Bailey notified me that you’d awakened.”

Ben’s phone rang. A number appeared on the face. “Excuse me a minute. That’s the car garage.”

He nodded and flipped through her chart.

Amelia pushed the button Ben showed her to answer. “Hello?”

“Thiz Eagle’s Nest Vay-hicle Repair-a-returnin’ yer call.”

“Yes, I own the car that police escorted there after it was assaulted by a light pole today.”

A hearty chuckle crossed the line. “Yessum. She’s here. Perty banged up though.”

“When do you anticipate it being ready to go?”

Amelia’s gut clenched at the ensuing silence. Then weird chomping came across the line. Then a belch and more silence.

“We-ell. I don’t rightly know if she’ll ever be ready to go. If there’s a possibilty of ’er a pullin’ through a tall, I’d say yer lookin’ at two weeks…minimum.”

Maybe deep breaths would calm her racing heart and make it stop doing gymnastics in her chest. The feeling made her lightheaded again. And nauseous. She eyed her IV, hoping it would hurry and right her…whatever-those-things-were-called. “Then I’d best let you go so you can work on it.” A little nudging couldn’t hurt, right?

Another chuckle. “I don’t work on Sundies,” the hillbilly-sounding mechanic said. “Check back’n a day or two or three when I’ll know more.”

“Thank you.” Heavyhearted and light-headed, Amelia hung up and faced the doctor.

He motioned to Reece, asleep in the recliner. “She down for the night?”

“Yes. Nurse Bailey brought blankets and pillows. When it’s bedtime, she’ll sleep anywhere. I can’t count how many times I’ve intercepted her face heading for a dinner plate.”

He chuckled, then his smile straightened as he pulled up a wooden chair and sat beside her bed. Uh-oh. Here it comes.

“Speaking of food, Miss North—”

“Please, call me Amelia.”

“Okay, Amelia. Can we talk candidly a moment?”

She nodded. At least he didn’t start out yelling. Still, tears sprang to her eyes. “Look, before you say anything, I know I’ve done wrong.” She sniffed, hating that she couldn’t make herself not cry. “I also know as a doctor you have to discuss this with me. But I want you to know up front I’m not anorexic.”

He nodded. “I believe you. Your lab work and medical examinations don’t show signs of long-term starvation. But as you know, you were dangerously dehydrated when you came in.”

For the first time, Amelia noticed his name tag.

Oncologist?

Isn’t that a cancer doctor?

Her heart nearly stopped. She sucked in a quick breath.

He followed her gaze. “Oh, sorry I didn’t explain before. Refuge is a small town. We don’t yet have a full-time ER doctor on staff. Until physician recruiters hire one, doctors in town take turns doing ER shifts whether they’re in family practice or are specialists. I was on call when you came in. My background is in oncology but I am Refuge’s trauma surgeon now. I think you’re perfectly healthy other than an electrolyte imbalance secondary to flu and severe dehydration.”

She sank back into the bed. “Oh, good.”

Shuffling sounded as he adjusted papers. “But I want to make certain this won’t happen again.”

She sat up. “It won’t. I promise. My life changed today. My baby, having to see me go down like that, then go for help—” Amelia shivered, shook her head, eyed Reece and swallowed. “I’ll make sure I eat enough and keep myself healthy from now on.”

“That’s good. Your potassium is still borderline. You could use a couple more bags of fluid. I’m not comfortable releasing you tonight. I think the safest thing would be to see how you’re doing tomorrow.” He rose. “So I’ll see you then, okay?”

“Thank you.”

He gave her head an affectionate tap with his papers. “Finish your dinner and get some rest. And by all means, if you want a midnight snack, Nurse Bailey knows where the stash is.” He waved and slipped out through the curtain.

Stuck. She wasn’t going anywhere tonight. Maybe not even tomorrow or the next day or the day after.

But he was right. The safest route meant staying. Job or no job, making sure she was well and here to care for Reece took precedence. Amelia sighed and jabbed her fork prongs to the food, knowing this meal would be the first of a new leaf.

Like the romaine lettuce in her chicken caesar salad, Amelia felt crunched in a catch-22: to ensure eating, she had to have this job. It was her best hope. Having memorized the number of her boss-to-be, Amelia swallowed the last morsel, drew a deep breath and phoned his Missouri home with Ben’s cell.

Four rings later, his gravelly voice answered. She explained her situation. In the wake of silence, she pressed her ear to the receiver. Maybe the call got disconnected. “Hello?”

“I’m here—”

Ominous gruffness hurled across the line with harsh expletives. “Get it together and be here a week from Tuesday or the job’s gone.”

Tuesday! That was nine days from now. The mechanic said two weeks minimum on her car, if it could be repaired.

Amelia took a deep breath and resisted the compulsion to beg, borrow and plead. “I just hope you understand how much I want, need, this job, sir. I’ll do my best to be there.”

Amelia hated that her voice and hands quivered.

“If you can’t be here next Tuesday morning, your best isn’t good enough. I need a secretary’s behind in that office chair at eight that morning. Period.” A click, then cold silence.

Heat flamed Amelia’s face. Not embarrassment. Anger. The words went through her like a hot sword from her past.

Your best isn’t good enough.

How many times had she heard that since she’d turned ten?

Doubt assailed her about this new boss. But Nissa had called in a favor, and Amelia needed a job.

She cradled Ben’s phone in her palm and curled it close, enjoying that it smelled like him. She huffed and rolled over. Hopefully sleep would come swiftly. She drifted with one thing ticker-taping through her mind:

No matter how hard her new boss was to work for, no matter what she had to do to get to that job by next Tuesday, she would make sure it happened.

For the third morning in a row, Amelia watched the southern Illinois sunrise brighten her room but not her mood. The flu virus had suddenly reared its fierce head two nights ago, rendering her unable to hold down food or water without the help of IV meds.

Amelia clutched her pocket planner as if staring at it would add days to the week.

She was running out of time.

Sharp knocks echoed off the door, pulling her attention from the calendar of doom and her nausea.

“Come in,” Amelia called in a low voice, eyeing Reece as she slept.

Wiggling his fingers in what Amelia had come to know as his trademark wave, Ben, who’d been coming faithfully every morning, entered with a beautiful African-American woman. Envy pricked Amelia. She mentally chastised herself for having hoped he was unattached. His unwavering presence had been a bright spot in her days.

Watching Amelia watch Ben, a smile crept over the woman’s mocha face. She stepped forth. “Hi, Miss North. I’m Glorietta Harker, the DCFS caseworker present when the ambulance brought you in. I’m also a friend of Ben’s.”

“Hi,” Amelia said. The emphasis the woman put on friend caused Amelia’s heart rhythm to beat erratically. As if the woman perceived Amelia’s thoughts and wanted to reassure her she and Ben were not an item.

Not that Amelia had her sights on the guy or anything. It was completely normal to be attracted to him since he rescued her. Plus, he was tender and caring toward Reece. That, and his velvet voice, scored him points, too.

It wasn’t fair that he looked better today than yesterday. A white T-shirt brought out his creamy complexion. Denim shorts doused him in a down-to-earth flair despite the potent energy in him that blared larger than life. This wasn’t just any guy.

“Hey, Amelia. What’s up?” His slow grin warmed to her toes.

“Not my potassium.” She lifted her arm to show him her IV.

His smile faded. “Bummer. They’d had to restart it?”

“Yeah. My stomach isn’t cooperating.”

“Wow. You seem to be handling it okay though.”

“Yeah. For now.” Only because you being here cheers me up.

Amelia couldn’t put her finger on what exactly it was that made Ben Dillinger one of a kind. But he was one of a few men in the world who stop all activity in a room when they walk in. Though a quietly content, almost shy demeanor orbited him, something in this man’s core summoned respect. Precisely the kind of guy who made women’s pulses trip.

Precisely the kind of guy who’d never notice Amelia in a million years.

Yet something in his eyes reached for her beyond a quest for friendship. Every time he looked at her, she felt tangibly embraced with sincere care.

Not that he’d even be remotely interested in her romantically, with all the problems and baggage she had. No guy in his right mind would pursue her.

But one of these days, her life would be different. She’d carve a good life out for her and Reece.

Then nothing would stop her.