LITMIR.BIZ

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bitterly. “If that’s what you’re looking for, you’ve come to the wrong place because everything here is complicated, in a lot of different directions.”

      “Not if the complications aren’t from one of my messes, it’s not.” She laughed, but it was a disheartened laugh. “I don’t always blurt out my frustrations to people in the elevator, but that had been a really horrible day, one of the worst in my life, and it was either blurt or kick the wall. And, trust me, with the way I was feeling I probably wouldn’t have even noticed a few broken toes.”

      “That bad?”

      “That stupid. I knew Admin wouldn’t change their attitudes for me, but that didn’t stop me from barging in where I wasn’t invited. They had to know how their policies affected patient care and, more than that, patient safety. I’d also talked to a reporter…”

      Dermott laughed out loud. “Of course you did. Anything else wouldn’t have been pure Jenna Lawson. Any regrets for what you did?”

      She shook her head. “They’re looking to hire a few more nurses now, make some administrative changes, and that’s good. So, do you want to come in for some tea? I just fixed a pot.”

      “Cinnamon.”

      Actually, it was cinnamon she’d found in the cupboard, wasn’t it? She hadn’t thought much about it, but cinnamon was her favorite, and probably not the most common thing to stock in a pantry where there was little else. “You remembered that, too?” Unless this was a coincidence like her birthday, she was flattered again. Ice cream, birth date, and favorite tea…

      “What I remembered was that night after work, when five or six of us went to the café. You ordered cinnamon tea, and I think it was the first time I ever knew that tea came in any flavor but plain. You opened a new world for me that night.”

      “So you like cinnamon tea now?” She recalled that night. He hadn’t been particularly fond of the tea after she’d convinced him to order it, and after several tastes, he’d finally traded it for a cup of coffee. Black. Plain.

      “No. I still like my coffee.”

      Jenna laughed. “So what new world was it that I opened?”

      “If you recall, I was the only guy in the café drinking regular coffee, and that’s sort of been the lot of my life since then. People like their lattes and cappuccinos and espressos, and all those chocolate-caramel-vanilla-hazelnut-amaretto flavors in their coffees, and when you step up and order your coffee plain and black, you get a funny look from a lot of people. They practically beg you to order what they have, to be like they are, to fit into their mold or stereotype. Just one sip, you’re really going to love it. Well, I was trying my hardest to impress a pretty girl that night by drinking her hideous cinnamon tea but what I discovered was that sometimes putting on airs is too tough. In the end, depending on how it works out, you end up sentencing yourself to a lifetime of cinnamon you hate, or somewhere in the future you’ll have to admit that you were lying, which could make people wonder what else you lied about since little lies, like cinnamon tea, usually snowball. The world that opened up to me over a plain, black coffee is that it’s always best to be honest about who you are right from the start. You know, To thine own self be true. It’s one of the few things in life over which you have total control.”

      Spoken like a man who’d given it a lot of thought. Was that because of his wife’s problems? she wondered. “Like you always wanted to be a small-town doctor when everybody was trying to convince you to become a surgeon?” He’d been brilliant during his surgical rotation and the offers had flooded in, but he’d turned them down. People had ridiculed him for his choice because rural medicine wasn’t in vogue. Wasn’t lucrative. Wasn’t prestigious.

      “Being a surgeon, drinking cinnamon tea, it’s all the same thing. Directions that weren’t right for me.”

      She liked that in him. Dermott had a strong sense of self. In her own mixed-up life, a little of that might have helped along the way. “Then would you like to come in for a glass of…?” She didn’t remember seeing anything else to serve him but she really didn’t want him to leave. “Tap water?”

      “Actually, I was going to invite you down for a late supper. Max is in bed now, and I was getting ready to fix myself a grilled cheese sandwich. Since you arrived a day early and I didn’t stock you with any food, I thought the least I could do would be to slap a piece of cheese between two slices of bread and throw it in the skillet.”

      “You wouldn’t be offended if I brought my cinnamon tea with me?”

      He laughed. “It really is nice to see you, Jenna. I’m glad I didn’t run you off on your first day here. Heaven knows, except for my son, not much else had gone right lately. But having you here…”

      There was that sad look again. It was hard imagining Dermott as a widower with a young son. But that was his reality and, now, hers. So maybe looking for bits and pieces of the Dermott she’d known years ago was a waste of time. Maybe he’d moved too far from that point for any of it to remain. If so, that would be too bad. But the past was the past, and perhaps he was remaining true to himself as he was now, and not what he used to be. In which case, getting to know him again over a grilled cheese sandwich sounded lovely. “I’m glad I’m here, Dermott. Doubts and all, I’m glad I’m here.”

      “I hope so, JJ. I really hope so.”

      She liked it when he called her JJ. That was the old Dermott.

      “I have to call her right back,” Dermott said. “But I need to run downstairs and check her medical chart to see what her medication dose is. I think she may have taken too much, and that’s what’s causing her symptoms. Five minutes, and I’ll be right back. Then we’ll have grilled cheese.”

      “Can I do anything?”

      He shook his head. “I’ve been changing Mrs. Gray’s arthritis medications and she’s having some gastric upset because of it, and I suspect she’s not taking enough of the medication I prescribed to treat the side effect. Off the top of my head I could guess how many pills she’s supposed to take, but I’d rather be safe and check. Do you mind looking after Max for a few minutes?”

      “Well, I make a pretty good grilled cheese sandwich myself. You go, I’ll cook. And, no, I don’t mind looking after Max.”

      “Jenna Lawson, domestic.” He was chuckling on his way out the door. “I’d have never guessed.”

      Making a sandwich wasn’t exactly domestic, but Jenna actually found it rather pleasant puttering around Dermott’s kitchen, and she was just about ready to put the skillet on the gas flame when she heard a shriek coming from down the hall. “Max!” she gasped, turning off the gas and running as fast as she could to the bedroom where the little boy was tossing in his bed, and crying. “No!” he cried out. “Don’t! Please, don’t!”

      “Max,” she said, running straight to the bed. He was in the throes of a nightmare, and his little body was twisting in the bed. His eyes were open, he was reaching out trying to find something, or someone. Instinctively, Jenna dropped to the side of the bed and pulled the boy into her arms. But he fought her at first, pounding her with his fists, trying to get away.

      “No, I don’t want to!” he screamed, thrashing, hitting. “No…no…no!”

      “Max, it’s Jenna. Wake up, Max.” She gave him a little shake, but he hit her again. “Max, you’re safe. It’s Jenna, and I’m here with you. You’re safe.”

      “No,” he whimpered, the fight suddenly going out of him. He was drenched in sweat, and he’d wet the bed. “I don’t want to,” he choked out. “I don’t want to.”

      Jenna held him tight, stroked his head. “You’re safe,” she whispered. “Nothing’s going to hurt you. I promise, nothing’s going to hurt you.” He must have heard, because he settled down, snuggled into her arms.

      “Where’s

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