Her Kind Of Doctor

“You would view shedding a tear as criminal,” she said angrily. “You’re not human!”

His jaw clamped into a tight vise. “Are you finished? Or do you have more to say?”

Trying to explain anything to this man would be futile, she decided. He wouldn’t understand that the mist in her eyes had nothing to do with being a nurse and everything to do with being a woman. Earlier in the day, her best friend had given birth to a beautiful daughter and a few minutes ago Paige had held the precious, tiny life in her arms. As she’d gazed down at the baby’s face an empty longing had washed over her, reminding her of everything she’d been missing and all that she’d lost. She couldn’t expect any man to understand the feelings that were still tugging at her emotions. Especially Dr. Luke Sherman.

Through clenched teeth, she said, “I have plenty more to say. You, Dr. Sherman, have to be the most pompous, self-absorbed bastard that’s ever called himself a doctor!”

His nostrils flared and a swathe of red color washed up his neck. No doubt she’d infuriated him and burned her bridges in the process, but she was beyond worrying about the consequences. She was a nurse. Not a doormat or whipping post.

“You have the right to think whatever you like about me,” he said, in a voice cool enough to freeze Lake Tahoe. “It’s my duty to make sure my staff is capable of administering undivided attention to my patients. And right now you’re definitely not capable! I’m telling you to leave the ER! And I don’t expect to see you again until you take care of your problem.”

Her problem? He was the problem! She wanted to scream the words at him. Instead, she turned on her heel and hurried out of the treatment area before any of her fellow nurses could intercept her angry march to the main desk.

Helen, the head nurse of the Tahoe General Hospital emergency unit in Carson City, Nevada, was standing behind the counter with a phone jammed to her ear. Her steel-gray hair was always waved back from her face just as her full lips were a permanent ruby red. The only nurse on staff who stuck to age-old tradition in hospital fashion, a stiff nurse’s cap was pinned to the crown of her head, while a white dress uniform was buttoned over her ample curves. To the staff of the ER, Helen was affectionately known as the Iron Lady and at this very moment Paige wished she had just a fraction of Helen’s tough constitution.

As Paige approached the desk, Helen hung up the phone and began scribbling something on a notepad. When she finally looked up, she tossed down her pencil and folded her arms across her breasts. “Okay, give it to me. What’s happened? You look like you could breathe fire!”

Paige sniffed and stuffed her trembling hands in the pockets on her scrub top so the matronly nurse couldn’t see them.

Struggling to keep her voice from cracking, she muttered, “If I could breathe fire right now, Dr. Sherman would be nothing more than a piece of charred flesh!”

The veteran nurse cocked her head to one side as she surveyed Paige’s red eyes and pale face. “That’s nothing new. What’s he done now? Don’t tell me you let him bring you to tears! I thought you were a better woman than that.”

Paige had believed she was a better woman, too. Before this morning, she’d always been strong enough to hang on to her self-control whenever she was on the receiving end of his wrathful tongue. But this time Dr. Sherman had finally pushed the right buttons and, unfortunately, she’d cracked.

“These tears have nothing to do with him,” Paige said curtly.

“Hmm. My mistake. I thought you said you just wanted to turn him into a grilled fillet.”

“That’s because—” She broke off and shook her head with frustration. “Oh, a few minutes ago while I was on my break I went upstairs to the maternity ward. To see Marcella’s new baby daughter. They’ve named her Daisy and trust me, it fits. She’s as pretty as a flower.”

Helen smiled. “I heard that Marcella had delivered a few hours ago. I’m so happy for her and Denver.”

Paige glanced around to make sure none of the nurses coming and going around the desk were lingering about to pick up their conversation. It was bad enough that Dr. Sherman had ordered her out of the ER, she didn’t want to give the gossip mill any more fodder.

“I’m terribly happy for Marcella, too. She’s wanted another baby for so long. And when I held little Daisy...well, I got a bit misty. So when I returned to the ER, Dr. Perfect spotted my teary eyes, instantly concluded I was unfit for duty and ordered me out. So I’m here to tell you I’m going home.”

Helen gave her a stern look, then turned her piercing blue eyes to the clock on a wall behind them. “There’s only two hours to go until your shift changes. Don’t worry about leaving. If we get real tight, I’ll go back and fill in for you.”

Worry? Paige had just called her superior a pompous bastard. She figured her days in the ER were over. Or at the very least, she wouldn’t be working the same shift as Luke Sherman.

“Uh, there’s a little more to it, Helen. I’m afraid I said some very nasty things to Dr. Sherman. This might be the last time you’ll be seeing me around here. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

Scowling, Helen promptly took Paige by the arm and led her over to a more secluded area of the nurses’ station.

“Paige, I don’t begin to know what’s going on between you and Dr. Sherman. And frankly, I couldn’t care less if you love him or hate him. But you’ve been a nurse in this ER for seven years. You’re one of the best we’ve ever had. I don’t want to lose you.”

To emphasize her words, the older nurse reached over and gave Paige’s hand a tight squeeze. Paige was grateful for her support, but she wasn’t at all sure that Helen could intervene on her behalf, or even if she wanted her to.

Leaning closer to Helen, Paige lowered her voice. “Even if Dr. Sherman doesn’t ask to have me kicked off the ER staff, I’m not sure I can continue to work with the man, Helen. He’s...impossible!”

To her surprise, Helen chuckled. “I thought all men were impossible.”

Before Paige could make any sort of retort, the telephone rang and Helen hurried off to answer it. Paige used the interruption to make a swift exit.

Five minutes later, after snatching her wallet and tote bag from her locker, she was out of the hospital, with Carson City fading in her rearview mirror as she drove east on Highway 50 toward Fallon.

The forty-minute drive to the farmhouse of her grandfather, Gideon McCrea, usually gave her plenty of time to unwind from work. Especially when she could watch the early morning sun crest over the mountains and spread a golden haze across the desert floor. However, this morning a bank of clouds blotted out the sunrise and her thoughts were far away from the rough, open landscape.

Darn it! After three long years of working under Dr. Luke Sherman, why had she let his nasty mouth get under her skin? He’d said just as bad or worse to her before and she’d always allowed the barbs to roll right off her back. But this time his words had stuck and sunk too deep to ignore.

It was just as well, she thought glumly. During the past few months the tension of working with the demanding doctor had grown to such a point she’d sometimes felt herself close to crumbling. Especially when she appeared to be the only nurse in the ER that caught the brunt of his wrath.

When she finally pulled her economy car to a stop in front of her grandfather’s farmhouse, the clouds had moved north and the morning sun was already painting pink and yellow fingers across the porch sheltering the front and one side of the structure. Just the sight of the old two-bedroom house, with its rusty tin roof and gray, graveled tar siding, comforted her. No matter what took place in her life, this place would always be her home.

She was pulling her tote from the backseat of the car when the bang of the screen door had her glancing around to see Gideon walking onto the porch. His tall, thin frame was clothed in faded overalls and an equally faded chambray shirt. A mug of coffee was in one hand and a piece of food, most likely bacon, was in the other. As he took a seat in a rusty motel chair, he tossed the food to the dog lying near the end of the porch.

As she approached the house, she called out, “Grandfather, how many times have I told you not to feed Samson table scraps? They’re not good for him.”

“They’ve been pretty good to me for the past seventy-five years,” he argued. “And don’t be thinking Samson is stupid. He knows a piece of crispy fried bacon tastes a darn sight better than a chunk of hard dog food. That stuff isn’t much more than a corn dodger with a few vitamins thrown in.”

Paige wearily climbed the steps to the porch, then walked over and dropped a kiss on Gideon’s leathery cheek.

“Okay. Next time, we’ll buy canned dog food for Samson,” she told him.

As if on cue, the collie mix lifted his head and whined, which in turn made Gideon laugh. The interaction was enough to put a wan smile on Paige’s face.

“So did you leave any of that bacon for me?” she asked.

Gideon narrowed his faded blue eyes at her, then pulled a pocket watch from the bib of his overalls. “Am I mixed up this morning? Or have you come home early?”

He opened the watch and, after a careful check of the hands, snapped it closed.

“I’m early, Grandfather.”

“You’re usually an hour or two later. What happened? No sick folks coming in today?”

Paige could’ve told him there were plenty of ailing folks in the hospital. Including her. She was sick of Dr. Sherman’s endless demands and hateful attitude. She was fed up with looking at his face and wondering whether a nice guy had ever lived behind his handsomely carved features.

Sighing, Paige dropped her duffel and sank into the chair next to Gideon’s. “The ER was very busy. I, uh, had a little run-in with one of the doctors and decided it best I leave early.”

As he weighed her words, he passed a hand over waves of thick hair that had once been auburn but had grayed to a mixture of white and rust. At one time Gideon McCrea had been a young handsome man, working as a welder for the Virginia and Truckee Railroad. But once time had begun to catch up with him, he’d retired and contented himself with growing small crops of timothy and alfalfa to sell to the local ranchers. The profit he made wasn’t large, but that hardly mattered to him. He didn’t want much. Especially since his beloved wife, Callie, had died ten years ago.

“You going to quit being a nurse?” he asked.

Wow, she must really look stressed out, Paige decided. Or maybe Gideon was picking up some negative tone in her voice. Either way, she didn’t want him to worry about her.

“Oh, no, Grandfather. I’d never quit being a nurse. I just think it’s time for me to work in a different section of the hospital. I’ve decided I’m going to talk with Mr. Anderson about getting myself transferred out of the ER.”