death. He hadn’t spent more than two days consoling his father after the funeral. He just hadn’t been able to take the emotional strain seeing his dad fall apart like that. And leaving early as he’d done, as always, he’d left another burden on Trevor’s shoulders.
He rolled over. Sleep, where are you hiding?
Lizzie took extra care after nursing Flora Monday morning. She fought back tears when she diapered and dressed the precious baby in one of the few terry-cloth onesies she owned. “Everything’s going to be fine today, Flora bear. I promise. Gretchen is a sweet lady who’ll take good care of you.”
The baby watched Lizzie as she talked, as if trying to understand. Such intelligent blue eyes. She knew her mother’s voice, too, and the thought made the brimming tears spill over Lizzie’s lids. How was she going to survive today?
I’ve got to work. “Everything I do is for us.” She kissed her daughter’s chubby cheek and inhaled her special baby scent, savoring it. Not wanting to let go.
She’d had to leave Flora with so many different people when she’d first been born in order to keep up with medical-school classes and clinics. Then the toughest job in her life: the addiction center. It’d about ripped out her heart to leave her, too, but she’d had to graduate if she wanted to pass the boards and get a job. And she needed an income to pay the rent. At least now, in Wyoming, she’d only have one sweet grandmotherly type watching Flora every day, and she’d see her baby every night and all day on the weekends.
Quality time was what mattered, she repeated over and over to help dry her tears. Squeezing her baby close, she forced a smile, pulled back and put on her brave face, not wanting to leave Flora seeing her cry. “Are you going to be a good girl for Gretchen?”
A gurgle and coo answered her question.
“I love you so much!”
Lizzie kissed Flora goodbye in Gretchen’s arms. Cole could have sworn he saw her eyes well up, yet like a trooper she pulled herself together and didn’t utter a word about missing her baby on the drive in to work. Though frequent sighs and constantly fidgeting hands in her lap gave her away.
His back was stiff from hard labor yesterday, walking the range, sinking posts, but it was the kind of ache that did a man good. But the pain wasn’t distraction enough to keep him from noticing how Lizzie had pulled her hair back in that braid again and wore silver hoop earrings large enough for shooting practice. Even though she’d chosen a long-sleeved white tailored shirt with dark slacks, sending a clear unisex message, he couldn’t help but notice what seemed to be all woman beneath the wrapper. Yeah, this couldn’t be good.
“How’s your dad doing?” She broke into his spiraling sexual thoughts.
“Pretty well. He’s recovering his strength quickly, which, as you know, is always a good thing with CVAs. Fingers crossed his speech will turn around, too. Another day or two of observation, and they may even skip sending him to rehab if he continues on this trajectory. The doctor said a home occupational-health worker and speech-recovery therapist may be all he needs.”
“That’s fantastic. Wow, we dodged the bullet there, didn’t we?”
He liked how she’d already thrown herself into the center of his family using we as if she were one of them. “Yes, we did. Keep sending good thoughts for his speech. You know how recovery can change day to day in the hospital.”
“Yes, and I certainly will.”
It got quiet then, as if the early morning drive had been their routine for years. She sighed and glanced out the window; he snuck a peak at her intently watching the scenery. He’d forgotten how amazing the Wyoming landscape was, how the sparkling blue sky over this big box-shaped state accentuated the brown and golden shades of strata on the low-lying hills, and made the prairie grass look like one huge shaggy carpet.
“How’re we gonna work this today?” she asked, checking back in, one foot suddenly tapping a quick rhythm on the floor of the car. He didn’t peg her as someone to get nervous about a new job, though she did seem to run on adrenaline and nerves.
“The patients?”
“Yeah, are you willing to let me work on my own unless I need your help?”
“I’d like to supervise, if you don’t mind.”
She started to protest.
“At first,” he said to appease her, but mostly to shut her up because he didn’t feel like debating the topic. He was the senior doctor and she might as well get used to it. “Then we can evaluate the situation and go from there.”
“I guess that’s reasonable.”
“You didn’t think I’d just cut you loose, did you?”
She tossed him a teasing smile. “A girl can hope.”
“Charlotte, the RN, is going to triage the appointments. Give the more complicated patients to me, and maternal/child to you. Oh, and I’ll take all of the cardiology patients. Obviously.”
“How sexist is that?”
“It’s not sexist if it’s practical. I know squat about maternal child health, and I figure, since you recently had a baby, not to mention the fact that you’ve just graduated from medical school and most likely studied the topic more recently than I have, you’re more suited to the job.” Not to mention that you’re a woman. Okay, so it did sound sexist. It was beside the point.
She shook her head, but moved on, apparently deciding not to argue. Good choice. “I’d like to do as many procedures as possible.”
“Fine with me. I’m spoiled by having a team of nurses do my dirty work.”
“See, you are sexist and since when do cardiologists ever get dirty?”
“Who’s being sexist now? There are plenty of male nurses.”
She smiled, clearly liking the verbal sparring. “Point taken. But I don’t think of cardiology as a profession that gets dirty.”
“You’ve heard of angioplasty, right?”
“You do those?”
“I do, and I take it a step further, I replace mitral valves, too.”
“But that’s open-heart surgery.”
“Not the way we do it these days. I use the same route as angiograms. TAVR or TAVI—have you heard of that?”
She turned her head toward him, disbelief in her eyes. “You do transcatheter aortic-valve replacements?”
“Also known as trans-catheter aortic-valve implantations. Yes—” he sounded smug and couldn’t help it “—that would be me.”
“Oh, my gosh.” Except it sounded like ohmahgosh. “You’re, like, a star in medicine!” Except it sounded like stah.
“You’ve heard of me?”
“You’re, like, the god of cardiology. I can’t believe I didn’t add that
