Send the Snowplow (3 page)

Diana rose and brushed past Chris. “I’ll be on the couch in the nurses lounge. Come wake me up later.”

Chris watched her walk down the hall until she disappeared into the lounge and the door closed. He grabbed a chair and scooted close to Jaycee, a goofy grin on his face. “Got you all to myself, at last.”

Jaycee shook her head, but heat rushed up her neck and across her cheeks. “You, me, six patients, four family members, Diana, and a dog.”

Molly’s tail thumped against the floor from her nearby doggy bed.

Chris’s voice dropped into that sultry tone he’d used earlier. “Everyone’s asleep. It still counts close enough as being alone.”

“Close only counts in horseshoes and shotguns, right?” Jaycee shivered and rubbed her shoulders. She was more tired than she’d realized. One thing she’d noticed was that she was more sensitive to cold on overnights, and it wasn’t because the thermostat setting changed at night. She was thankful for that too.

Chris grabbed a scrub jacket from a nearby cabinet and placed it over her shoulders. His hands lingered longer than necessary. “I had a survival course. They say you need to cuddle to share body heat.”

Jaycee gave a nervous laugh. There was no doubt he was flirting with her, but where did she stand on flirting back? It had been nine months, and it wasn’t like she thought Derek had left her to sit alone and pine about her like she’d been doing for him. Chris wasn’t hard on the eyes, and he was so close. Her breath caught in her throat. Too close. She checked her cell phone, then her watch, and headed into the med room. A little space might do her some good, and she needed to make sure her meds were ready to pass in an hour, right?

Or, at least that was the plan.

Chris followed her, closed the door, spun her around and pressed himself against her. He ran the back of his hand along her cheek, then lifted her chin and kissed her before she even had time to realize what was happening. 

His touch sent a different shiver through her body. As if of their own volition, her fingers wound themselves into his hair. Everything a kiss should be—and then some.

Chris pulled back and locked his green eyes with hers. “I know, this isn’t the place, but I wanted to kiss you earlier, and I’m not letting another chance slip by.”

His lips grazed hers once again. Barely a flutter, but enough to send her heart racing again, then left. Half-way to the door, he turned back to her. “Think about it.”

As if she’d be able to do anything but think about it? Alone, Jaycee leaned back against the wall. She closed her eyes, smiled, and ran her fingers over her still tingling lips.

Chapter 5

Jaycee sat at the deserted nurses station, her cell phone to her ear. “Any idea when they’ll get it open?” Yeah, she knew the dispatcher had no way of changing reality. She listened while the guy responded to a couple of radio transmissions with police officers and rescue personnel. Car accidents. Lots of them. Her heart sank. Stranded staff in a secured health care facility weren’t going to be a priority soon.

The dispatcher’s voice confirmed her thoughts. “It’s crazy out there, and you have to know the number of people who called in ‘sick’ has been higher than usual on Christmas Eve. We’re doing what we can to get you guys cleared out, but you know how hard that is.”

“I know, but it’s Christmas here, too, and we’re stranded. What if someone, you know, dies?”

The guy on the other end of the phone took in a deep breath. Jaycee imagined him rolling his eyes or rubbing his forehead. “It’s a hospice unit, right? You’re prepared for things like people dying.”

Yeah, he was right. It didn’t make it one bit more palatable. Her, Chris, and Diana. No support staff. No relief in sight, and Christmas to boot. She thanked the dispatcher for his time and even wished him a Merry Christmas with as much sincerity as she could muster. He was stuck in holiday hell as much as she was—or even worse.

Jaycee flipped through a few photos of the kids on her phone. It wasn’t the same as being with them, but at least she had the pictures to keep her company. She ended up in an album taken on a beach vacation. The warmth—or at least the lack of snow—was appealing right now. There were a whole group of pictures Clarissa snapped of her and Derek dancing to a reggae band. Laughing. Touching each other. Happy. Where had it gone so wrong? And why hadn’t Derek ever talked to her to let her know he was so unhappy? Could they have fixed things if he had? Perhaps not, but she’d have given everything to have had the chance to try.

A scuffling sound pulled her from her thoughts. Chris. Jaycee dimmed her screen and shoved the phone in her pocket. Somehow, looking at photographs with you soon to be ex with the first guy you’d kissed since he left seemed awkward and wrong. Chris brushed against her on his way into the med room. His fingers ran through her hair. How did he know she loved that? She reached up and grasped his hand. No sense pining over Derek. He wasn’t coming back, and she’d already had nine long months to figure that out. It didn’t stop the gnaw of guilt in her gut though.

***

Jaycee stretched out on the nurses lounge couch. Some old cast-away from when they’d refurnished the commons room, but it folded out into a bed—not that anyone took time to undo the thing. Must be a nurse thing, but in a pinch, she could sleep about anywhere. She bunched the pillow into a more comfortable position under her head and pulled the blankets a little closer to her chin. It would be a long day tomorrow and sleeping was the best thing she could do to make it bearable.

Derek’s hand slid along the small of her back. So soft against her skin. Together they swayed in time to the gentle reggae beat. The warm tang of ocean salt, hibiscus, and tiki fire, combined with the fruity drinks she’d had earlier gave her an intoxicating sense of perfection. She closed her eyes and leaned against Derek’s shoulder. Her eyes opened. Where was the beach? How? Derek had his coat and his suitcase. Leaving. No, no, no! She grabbed the handle and tried to pull him back inside. “Just talk to me. We can fix this!”

A searing burn spread across her palm as Derek jerked the handle free. He didn’t even answer her, just a glare full of emptiness and regret. He ran to his car as she collapsed to the cold concrete porch and sobbed. His door slammed and the tires squealed as he drove away.

Away from her
.

Jaycee jolted herself awake, her heart pounding, and a sense of cold that had nothing to do with the weather outside filling her. Nine months, and she still had the same nightmare. The beginning might vary, but it always ended the same way. With Derek walking out of her life. Nine months, and it still sent her into the same tailspin it had when it wasn’t a nightmare, but was the real thing. Will it be like this forever? People learn how to move on, don’t they?

It never did any good to go back to sleep. Nine months of hard experience knowing she’d just end up stuck in the same nightmare. Like some kind of demented time loop. Might as well go check on her patients and let Chris take a turn at sleep. For a moment, she wondered if he’d ever been in a relationship with enough baggage to create so much as ripple in his sleep habits. The thought made her smile. Chris Kadavy didn’t seem like the kind of guy who let grass or relationships grow under his feet. Just what she needed to get over Derek’s intrusions into her subconscious.

Chapter 6

Jaycee steadied Walter as he transferred from the wheelchair to his bed. Usually, he did pretty good by himself, but at night, he never minded a little extra help. And, she never minded giving him a few moments. Bone metastasis made the risk of falling real, and none of her patients deserved one moment of pain if it could be avoided, and broken bones from a fall could be put into that category. She turned to leave, but he grasped her hand. “It’s after midnight, so Merry Christmas. You’ve got family, right? Husband, kids?”

She tried not to, but flinched anyway. She didn’t talk about her private life at work much. It was an easy task to get her patients talking about themselves or their families. People who knew their time was limited appreciated the opportunity to tell their stories. To have a sense of where their life was in the grand scheme of things. The thought that niggled in her brain was that she should get serious about her idea to write a series of books filled with the memories of her hospice patients. She even had the release forms ready to go.
Why am I waiting on Every. Single. Thing. In. My. Life?

Walter cleared his throat and gave her an expectant stare.
Oh, yeah...
Jaycee pulled out her cell phone and showed him photographs of Jake and Clarissa. “This is my son and daughter. They’re twelve and eight. How about you? I’ve never heard you talk about your family.”

The retired CEO stiffened. “Never had time to get married. I was an only child, so I guess it ends with me.”

Jaycee’s heart softened. For all his little idiosyncrasies and demands, she liked Walter. He had married, just to his corporate lifestyle, and now he questioned his decisions. Death had a way of making you rethink so many things in life... a lot like divorce. She bent down and gave him a quick hug. “I’m glad you’re part of my Pleasant Meadows family.”

He tensed a moment, then returned the hug, and even kissed her on the cheek.

The next stop on her rounds was Brad. She opened the door as the former athlete shifted in bed and gave a soft moan. Valerie’s soft snores came from the recliner next to him. He couldn’t have been restless for long, or it would have wakened her. That was a good sign. Jaycee took his hand and whispered, “Take the pain medicine. That’s why it’s there.”

Brad shook his head, but the movement alone made him grit his teeth. She pasted on what she thought was her most “stern nurse” face. One she hoped conveyed her concern. The young husband glanced over at his sleeping wife. Finally, he blew out a deep breath and nodded his assent.

She hurried to the med room before he had time to change his time. The first thing she saw as she opened the door dropped her jaw. Chris in a partial crouch beside an open drawer on the med cart with his behind in the air. He stood up, so she didn’t get to admire the view long, and grinned. Jaycee pulled the keys to the locked narcotic box out of her pocket and turned away so he wouldn’t see the blush she knew covered her cheeks.

Warm arms encircled her and his lips grazed the back of her neck. “I never knew passing meds could be so much fun.”

The purr in his voice sent shivers through her in ways that were most definitely not work-appropriate. Jaycee broke away and glanced out into the nurses station and down the hallway. “Yeah, well if Diana sees, we’ll give the gossip mill a Christmas present.”

Chris nuzzled her again. “We should make it a good one.”

Jaycee giggled and hated that she sounded like a schoolgirl. Grown women didn’t giggle, did they? She half-heartedly shoved him away. “I’m serious. Stop that.”

He planted one more feathery kiss on her lips, then grabbed his meds. “Okay, so we’ll find somewhere more discrete.”

As he headed down the hall, med cup in tow, Jaycee fanned herself. Brad needed pain medicine, and here she was flirting. The thought sobered her, and she grabbed the supplies for his injection, locked the cabinet, and hustled back down the hall.

***

The medicine gave Brad a few hours of precious sleep, and now as the morning light filtered through his window, Jaycee helped Valerie finish up his bath. He even managed a smile. Valerie stopped mid-scrub, sucked in a deep breath, and grabbed her pregnant belly. “Whoa, I felt that one!”

One glance at Valerie’s face, and Jaycee’s nursing instincts went into overdrive. “You okay?”

Valerie forced a breath out through pursed lips. “It’s nothing. Common, according to my Lamaze teacher.”

A frightening thought flashed through Jaycee’s mind. “When are you due?”

The young mother-to-be shrugged. “Two weeks, two days? They’ve changed my due date a few times.”

Two days? That’s not good at all!
Jaycee placed a hand on her belly and breathed a sigh of relief when it was soft. She patted the bulge. “You take it easy in here, okay?”

Valerie laughed. Another good sign. 

Chapter 7

The walls of Marilyn’s room were a gory glare of the macabre. Nearly every inch of wall space featured a much younger version of her face in a series of framed movie posters. She was mid-scream, covered with blood, or both, in all of them. Jaycee stood near the bed as Marilyn, fresh from the shower, still in a white bathrobe appropriately adorned with fake blood splatter, and a towel wrapped around her head. Several outfit selections covered the top of her bed. “They’re all nice.”

“I want it to be perfect when Ralph calls with the Skype thing. Well, he doesn’t call himself Ralph now, he goes by Damon.” Marilyn’s face puckered like she’d swallowed a mouthful of lemon juice. “I don’t know why he hates his name. Ralph Waite was in
The Waltons.
Loved that show, so I named my son after him.”

Jaycee surveyed the outfits and selected the least gaudy shirt and pants. She held them up for Marilyn, who nodded, but didn’t seem pleased. “It’s elegant, tasteful, and—” She glanced around at the gore-fest of movie posters and memorabilia that filled her bookcases and the top of her dresser. “—So probably not you. How about this?” She picked up a Boho-inspired sequined blouse and held it up.

Marilyn’s face lit up. She took the proffered blouse from Jaycee with a look of wistful nostalgia. “I wore this one when I got stabbed in
Murder by Mayhem
, about thirty years ago. Still fits.”

Of course she did.
Jaycee shook her head and smiled. “I’m sure Damon—I mean, Ralph, will like it, but I thought he was coming here for Christmas?” Not that he would have made it with the blizzard, but something changed his plans, and with hospice patients, it wasn’t like there were limitless options for making up missed opportunities. It broke her heart when things fell apart and those moments for family connections disappeared forever. Sometimes, the best she could do was to ask, and listen if they wanted to talk.