Next to Me (5 page)

I head down to the pharmacy and tell the person helping me that I am there to pick up the meds I re-ordered for my patient. She gives me a quizzical look and asks if I checked the bin where that med is held. I start to lose it a little bit but contain myself for the greater good. I may still be a little on edge from my recent personal revelation, but this whole thing with them not having the meds for my patient is what’s really irking me.

“Yes,” I say in a controlled voice. “Of course I checked. There wasn’t any there, which is why I re-ordered it, even though I ordered it the first time two hours ago.”

The pharmacist steps in and takes care of getting me the medication I need for my patient and assures me that the daily order for it is now updated and that we shouldn’t have any problems in the future.

I give patient one her meds and check her temperature. It’s about 103, so I check the cooling blanket that she’s laying on. The blanket is warm so there is no cold or cool water circulating. It might be because the nurse before me didn’t clamp the blanket before putting it under the patient. The patient’s weight will have pushed all the water out and seeing as how she weighs 300 pounds, it’s not going to refill until I take it out.

I manage to grab Mercy and another nurse to help me roll the patient over so that I can take the blanket out. The other nurse can’t lift more than 25 pounds due to a recent injury so she’s the one that takes the blanket out. We watch the blanket to see that it fills now that it’s free to. Nothing. No filling. So, I order a new blanket, and new cooling machine, just in case.

“Oh, dear Lord, it’s only 10:30,” I sigh, putting my face in my hands.

“It can only get better, right?”

“Dr. Fisher! I didn’t know you were on call tonight,” I say with both surprise and nervousness. I’m hoping with everything in me that Mercy hasn’t gotten to him yet. I haven’t had a moment to think about if I’m going to break my cardinal rule.

“Dr. Wallace had a family emergency, so he asked me to cover for him.

Tomorrow is going to be rough since I still have rounds at six,” he says with

a smile and a breathy laugh. Dr. Adam Fisher is attractive for sure. He’s tall with broad shoulders, wavy blonde hair, and blue eyes. He’s kind of dreamy. Wrap that up with him being the head of the spinal surgical team and he’s every mother’s dream for her little girl.

“So…Mercy said I should ask you something,” he tells me with a soft tone. I’m going to kill her. “I know our schedules are a little crazy, but, would you like to have dinner with me this week?” Dr. Fisher smiles and my heart does that thing where it feels like it skips a beat. If I’m going to break the rules, I suppose Dr. Hottie is a good place to start.

“Sure. Yeah, that sounds really nice,” I tell him with a smile, surprising myself with how quickly I agreed.

His eyes light up and a smile beams across his face. “Awesome! After tonight I’ve got normal people hours this week, so you just let me know when you’re available and we’ll call it a date.”

“How’s Thursday night at seven?” I suggest.

“Thursday at seven is perfect,” he says still smiling like a fool. Maybe I should have said yes ages ago. “It’s a date.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Dr. Fisher,” I smile as I write down my address and phone number and give it to him. “Here you go.”

“Please, Jenna, call me Adam.”

“Of course…Adam.”

Adam takes the paper I handed him and tucks it in his front shirt pocket. He holds his gaze on me for a long moment before he heads down the hall to see Dr. Wallace’s patients and I get lost in the stack of charts in front of me.

“Excuse me?” I hear a small voice say. I turn and there’s a young girl standing to the side of the nurse’s station.

“Can I help you? It’s a little late for you to be out, don’t you think?” I ask.

“I’m here with my gramma to see my aunt,” she tells me as she points to patient one’s room. She and her grandmother must have slipped in while I was talking with Dr. Fisher.

“Oh,” I say softly. “What’s your name?”

“Heather.”

“Is she gonna die?” the little girl asks. I can see the pain and confusion in this little girl’s eyes. She’s not any more than eight or nine and this may be the first time she’s experienced the death of a loved one.

“What did your gramma tell you?” I ask. I want to tell her the truth that her aunt is most likely going to die, and soon, but the last thing I need to do is scar this child for life if gramma has been holding out hope.

“She said Aunt Lola is gonna die.”

“Well, Heather, your gramma is right. Aunt Lola is going to die,” I tell her softly. “Shouldn’t your mommy or daddy be here with you and Aunt Lola?”

“I don’t know where my mommy and daddy are. I used to live with Aunt Lola ‘til she got sick. I had to go live with my gramma far away.” Heather’s delivery of the facts of her life is flat and makes me sad. “Is Aunt Lola gonna go be with the angels?”

Whoa! This kid is full of questions that I’m not sure I should be answering.

“Do you think that’s where she’s going to go?” I ask Heather.

“Yes. I think so.”

“Then that’s where she’s going. And if you believe that she’s up with the angels, then that means she’ll be looking down on you and watching over you, so she’ll always be with you.” I smile at Heather and she smiles at me, seemingly comforted by my confirmation that Aunt Lola will be going to a good and happy place. “You think maybe you’re ready to go in and be with your gramma and Aunt Lola?”

“I think so,” she says thoughtfully.

“Tell you what…I’m going to be sitting right out here. If you need to

come out, you can come sit with me. Sound good?” I offer.

“Yes. Thank you.” Heather turns and walks slowly into patient one’s room, taking her grandmother’s hand as soon as she enters.

I remember being that small, standing with my grandmother next to my

mother’s bedside, my father on the other side, clutching Mom’s hand as she died. It was the worst day of my life. My mother’s death was the worst experience of my life. Coming in second is leaving my father to die in under a tree while I ran for my life. At least I got to say goodbye to both of them, and hear them tell my they loved me.

Poor Heather. No mother or father, and the only parent she’s known is about to die. I just pray her grandmother lives a very long life.

The rest of my shift goes off without incident. Aunt Lola, patient one, makes no changes and Heather and her grandmother end up leaving a little after midnight. Heather fell asleep so I helped her grandmother put her in a wheelchair to get her down to the car without having to wake her, and also because there’s no way she could have carried Heather.

This morning is one of those mornings where I fall asleep on the train countless times. It doesn’t happen very often, but sometimes an emotional time like I had with Heather can drain me. I keep waking myself up out of fear that I’ll miss my stop. I did that once and ended up walking 12 blocks back to my apartment.

I make it to my stop and trudge to the sidewalk. It’s almost eight so I know the bakery will still have some fresh croissants. I secure my bag over my shoulder and pull the door to the bakery open. A gust of delicious air attacks my face as I inhale deeply. There is nothing like the fresh, buttery, organic smell of fresh baked goods.

“Hi Jenna! Haven’t seen you in a while. You doin’ ok?” Amy says from behind the counter. She’s always got a sweet smile, no matter what time I show up.

“Hey Amy! I’ve been by in the afternoon, and sometimes before work, so

I haven’t gotten to see you. I’m good. How are you?” I peruse the case to see if there’s anything else I want in addition to my croissant.

“I’m great! What can I get you?” she asks, prepping a bag.

“I think I’m going to go with a couple of plain croissants and a couple of chocolate ones,” I tell her. My mouth is salivating just thinking about them. Add the coffee I’m going to get next door and I’ll be set for a perfect little breakfast before bed!

“That’ll be $8.65,” she tells me. I pull a ten from my wallet and we exchange the croissants for the ten and my change. “Thanks, Jenna! Enjoy! Hope we get to see you soon!” she calls as I push the door open.

“Thanks, Amy!” I call back. I’m crossing in front of the grocery store and approaching the coffee shop when I stop in my tracks. Landon is sitting at one of the café tables outside the coffee shop. It’s impossible for me to enter the coffee shop, or the building to get to my apartment, without passing right in front of him, so I suck it up and smile.

“Hi,” I say nervously.

“Hi,” he says with equal nervousness as he stands.

“Um…what are you doing here?” I ask him. It seems strange that he would be here…at my coffee shop…where my apartment is…right now.

“Would you freak out if I told you I was waiting for you?” he says with a coy smile.

“
Are
you waiting for me?” I ask a little hesitantly. I’m a little freaked out, but more excited than anything. After he disappeared that night at Duke’s I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see him again.

“I’m only waiting for you if you think it’s sweet and charming. I just happen to be here if you think it’s creepy,” he says with a timid smile.

“The fact that you just said that makes it kind of sweet and charming,” I tell him with a smile I’m trying not to let split my face.

“Great! We haven’t been formally introduced,” he says. “I’m Landon Scott.”

“Jenna Rockwell. It’s nice to meet you, Landon,” I tell him as we shake hands.
Oh, God, his hands are strong. Shut up, Jenna!

“It’s more than nice to meet you, Jenna. Can…I…buy you a cup of coffee?” he asks motioning to the door to the coffee shop.

“Sure,” I answer with a little bit of an embarrassed smile. I’m still in my scrubs and my hair is in a crazy bun on the back of my head. And coming off a 12-hour shift, I know I look really tired.

He opens the door to the coffee shop and we walk into an aromatic sea of the greatest scent on earth. We stand in line, both quiet as we wait for the few customers in front of us to move along. I do my best not to stare at him, but it’s difficult. He’s got this thing about wearing fitted shirts and I’m pretty sure it’s because he knows he looks totally hot in them. His tattoo is peeking out again and I fight the urge to lift his sleeve so I can see what it is. It looks Celtic, but I could be wrong.

“You want something other than coffee? A latte or something? I’m buying, and I don’t mind saying I’m a
pretty
generous date,” he smirks.

“Just a regular coffee is great, thank you,” I giggle.
I giggled! Oh, my God, what is this guy doing to me?

We automatically walk back out to the table where I found him and sit down. He’s comfortable, casual. Totally at ease as he leans back in the metal chair.

“Would you like a croissant? I have plain and chocolate,” I offer.

“I like a girl who brings something to the table,” he chuckles. “I’ll take one of those chocolate ones if you can spare it.”

“Here you go!” I take a chocolate croissant and place it on two napkins in front of him. “They’re fresh. Just got them next door.”

“Holy crap! This is the best thing I have ever put in my mouth,” he says with muffled joy.

“I know, right?” I take a bite of a plain croissant and it practically melts

in my mouth.

“So, Jenna, tell me about yourself,” he inquires as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“C’mon, Landon. You don’t strike me as a small talk kind of guy. I mean,

you
did
find a way to know exactly where I was going to be this morning. And you
were
at Duke’s on Saturday night. So why don’t we start with you telling me how we came to be having coffee and croissants this morning.” I say to him. It’s too early to go into the vague backstory of my life and I want to know more about this guy who has seemed to magically pop into it.

“Well played, Jenna, well played. Well…I saw you at Carina’s and, as cheesy as it sounds, I was just drawn to you. You came scurrying in like a frazzled schoolgirl, but then you
owned
that dance floor.” I blush as I recall the dance Marco and I put on for the class that day. “I did some digging – and by digging I mean I just asked Carina where you hung out, where you lived, and where you worked. Don’t tell that woman anything you don’t want anyone to know.” We both laugh because that is absolutely true.

“So you knew I was going to be at Duke’s? And you saw me there?” He nods and gives me a tightlipped smile. “Why did you leave?”

“I don’t know. I started feeling like a creeper. You were there with your friends and I thought maybe you were just coming over to tell me I was intruding,” he tells me.

“That didn’t stop you from waiting for me this morning,” I challenge.

“This morning is different. This morning I get you all to myself.” Landon smiles and a nervous lump appears in my throat. I take a sip of coffee in an effort to push it down.

“You really
aren’t
about the small talk, are you?” I say, biting my lip so I don’t grin like a total fool.

“Not at all. Have dinner with me,” he says. It’s not a question.

“My schedule is kind of crazy…” I begin.

“When? When are you free?” Landon leans forward in his chair and

locks his eyes on mine. They’re this beautiful shade of brown, so rich and velvety.

“I, um…” I clear my throat, caught off guard by his directness. “I’m free tomorrow night,” I tell him.

“Perfect. I already know where you live, sort of. Tell me which apartment is yours and I can pick you at your door properly.” He leans back in his chair again, the intensity of the moment is gone now that I’ve surrendered to his
I have to meet this girl
techniques.

“How about I just meet you down here 7:30?” I propose.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I don’t meet girls for dates and I don’t go Dutch. I’m the guy. I pick you up at your door, take you out and pay for it, and then I drop you off at your door. So…I’ve already proven that I can find out where your apartment building is. How hard do you think it’ll be to find out which apartment is yours?” There’s that smirk again. I’ve known this guy for 30 minutes and I already love his smirk.