A Killing Frost

The director turned back to her. “Let’s drop the formalities. They’re stuffy and awkward. My name is Ruth, and I expect to be called Ruth, not Dr. Lawrence, and certainly not Dr. Ruth.” There was no humor in her voice.

“I’m Jama.”

“Yes, Jama,” she said, her voice suddenly softer, as if she’d discovered where she had mislaid her manners. “I’m not saying we will be chummy—” so much for the manners “—but we need to establish some simplicity. It’s going to be a hectic few days as we hire our own staff, develop our management systems, train the team to—”

“There’s no staff? ”

Dr. Lawrence…Ruth…blinked. “Who did you expect to do the hiring? The mayor?”

“It might have been helpful.”

“I won’t have a small-town mayor hiring medical personnel. I specified this before I agreed to work here.”

“Then it might have been nice if someone had informed me, ” Jama complained. Just because she’d had no voice in the decisions and plans that had been made for the next two years didn’t mean she wanted to be treated as if she didn’t exist.

“I will make my own choices and judgments about the people with whom I will spend a huge amount of my time,” Ruth said.

“Mayor Thompson hired me. You didn’t have any choice about that.”

Ruth turned to rearrange a stack of magazines on the center table in the waiting room. “Your situation is different, but since you mentioned it, just because you have a forgivable loan from this town does not mean you may behave any way you wish. Your behavior the next two years will determine whether or not you stay on after that probationary period.”

Jama pressed the tip of her tongue against her front teeth. Why on earth would she want to stay on? “A probationary period of two years? ” That was a nasty slap in the face. She would make Tyrell Mercer suffer badly for getting her into this.

She could have paid back those school loans on her own. Eventually. But Tyrell would not hear of it. Without telling her what he was up to, he’d proposed this arrangement to the city council, and the decision was made before she had time to think about it.

Sure, she’d signed the stupid contract, but she was under duress at the time. Thinking about finances made her crazy.

“Depending on how things work out,” Ruth said, “the two-year probation could be greatly reduced.”

Jama wondered what response she’d receive if she were to share her thoughts at that moment.

“During this time,” Ruth said, “you will keep in mind that I am your supervisor…director…whatever you want to call me. You will respect my orders and do as I say when on duty. When off duty, you can say anything you want to me. You will report to work when you are scheduled, and you will do nothing to jeopardize the reputation of this clinic.”

Heat warmed Jama’s face. The mayor had obviously not remained silent about her youthful escapades. But at thirty-two, she was far removed from those days.

The sound of squeaky footsteps echoed from the corridor, where Zelda in her orange shorts and green shirt and dusty running shoes came toward them with a familiar glint in her eye.

Chapter Six

J ama braced herself as Zelda held her hand out to Ruth. “Couldn’t help overhearing. Thought I’d introduce myself and give you a proper introduction to our little spitfire here.”

Jama nearly groaned aloud. “Zelda, she doesn’t need any incentive to extend my probationary—”

“Hush, kid. The good doctor just needs some pointers about handling you, is all.”

Handling? “I’m not a farm animal.”

Zelda ignored her. “Dr. Lawrence, our Jama has one of the tenderest hearts in the river valley, and she has a special affinity for the elderly. She was so devoted to our nursing-home residents that she missed class a time or two so she could help out when we were shorthanded, or when one of her favorite patients was dying.”

“Yes, skipping school seemed to be a habit of hers,” Ruth said.

“Unfortunately,” Zelda said, “she was caught and suspended a couple of times, which cost her approval points with some of the River Dance citizens.”

“Zelda, must you rub my nose in it?” Jama asked.

“I can introduce you to a lot of people who feel differently.” Zelda continued to ignore Jama. “She’s always had a special insight when it comes to anyone in pain. She needs to be given a lot of leeway. The child’s been gone from here for fourteen years, and—”

“I’m not a child.”

“Excuse me,” Ruth said, turning to Jama, “but why fourteen years? I was under the impression you just completed your residency training, and it doesn’t take fourteen years—”

“Actually, Zelda,” Jama said, “it’s been fifteen years since I left. I was seventeen, remember? And I took an accelerated course through college. But I took a hiatus from residency training.”

“For what reason?” Ruth asked.

None of your business . “I changed specialties.”

The golden-brown eyes sought Jama’s and held them, probing. Jama stared back.

“That doesn’t mean she’s flighty, Dr. Lawrence,” Zelda said. “Far from it. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like the teenager she was when she left home.”

Jama groaned aloud.

“She especially doesn’t deserve to be placed on probation for two years.”

“I’ll make my own judgments about that,” Ruth said. “I don’t know everyone in town, as you obviously do.”

“Then you’ve got two of River Dance’s own to help guide you through the process if you’d just trust us a little,” Zelda said.

Ruth met the nurse’s gaze. “Give a stranger some time to settle,” she said softly.

Jama had always appreciated Zelda’s outspoken devotion—the same devotion she’d given to her wayward grandchildren when they were in trouble—but now was not the time. The new director obviously needed no more ammunition.

“Uh, Ruth,” Jama said, trying to stop Zelda’s runaway tongue, “you might consider Zelda for the nursing position. That is if you don’t mind being bossed around by a woman who’s been treating patients since before either of us was born.”

Suitably distracted, Ruth returned her full attention to Zelda. “Have you applied?”

“Not me,” Zelda said. “I’ve done my full-time and moved on to choosing my shifts more carefully.”

“Then I don’t see that there’s anything to discuss.”

“We could use your help,” Jama told her old friend, warming to the idea. “You could help us break in the new staff. It isn’t as if you’d have to take the position permanently, but—”

“Have you told the director that I’m seventy-six?”

Ruth studied Zelda with renewed interest, and Jama, in turn, studied Ruth. “What does age have to do with anything?” the director asked. She didn’t smile, but her expression warmed by several degrees. “I’ve seen men and women considerably older participate in clinic work with excellent results. Good experience is more valuable than classroom training any day.”

“Well, anyway,” Jama said, intrigued by Ruth’s sudden thaw, “I have a report to fill out. I need to find the forms, and I have no idea where—”