got great chicken hot wings on Monday nights, too. Spread the word.”
Well, what do you know, she’d pulled it off. One moment the room had been dead, now somehow she’d managed to infuse some excitement into her co-workers as they made plans to do something different. They smiled and chatted about their favorite beer and mixed drinks, and laughed with each other.
It always felt good to please people. It had been how she’d survived, growing up. She had a long history of perfecting her talent, too. A set of narrowing brown eyes and a raspy voice came to mind. “So who’s going to invite Dr. Griffin?”
All went silent again. Polly glanced from face to face to face as they stared at her with varying expressions, all of which implied she’d lost her mind.
“What? You don’t invite your department head for drinks?”
The first nurse cleared her throat. “Maybe one of the residents but, uh, he doesn’t socialize with us.”
“Yeah. He merely tolerates us, and only because he knows he needs us to take care of his patients,” the second nurse said.
“But isn’t he the guy who approves your raises?”
Three sets of lips pressed into straight lines as they all nodded.
“I dare you to ask him to come along,” the nurse who’d just joined them said, as she finished heating her soup in the microwave. She laughed with the others at the ridiculous dare.
“Double-dog dare?” Polly had never heard that expression before Dr. Griffin had said it that morning, but figured now was the right time to use it.
“Triple-dog dare,” the last nurse said, taking her place at the table and leaning forward with a clear challenge in her eyes.
Polly knew a set-up when she saw one. Let the new girl hang herself with the boss. Well, she’d seen a different side of him that morning and couldn’t believe they’d never seen it too. “How bad can a person be who makes balloon animals for his little patients?”
The four other people in the room looked at each other rather than answer the question. That meant one thing. Polly, the diehard, would have to find out on her own.
As the afternoon stretched on, Polly was surprised by how energized the staff seemed since they’d made plans for after-work drinks.
Even Brooke approved. “This is just the injection of fun we’ve needed around here. I may have to nickname you Pollyanna.”
Polly made her goofy face and shook her head. “Please, don’t.” Even though that was better by far than being called Poor Polly.
At four o’clock, the first shift of the day had ended and had handed over to the next team. Word had spread about everyone going for drinks at O’Malley’s for happy hour, and more than half of the staff had signed on. Some of the evening shift wished they could go, too. Not bad for her first day.
Polly tied her sweater around her waist and licked her lips. “I’ll see you all down there in a few minutes.”
She’d promised to invite Dr. John Griffin, and she always kept her promises. She walked to the far side of the sixth-floor hospital wing. Staring down the hall at his closed office door, she took a deep breath and strode onward.
* * *
Someone knocked at the door. John made a face because it interrupted his train of thought, thoughts he’d been avoiding all day. Just one day. That’s all he asked. One day not to remember images from twelve years ago. One day without memories sweeping over him, wrenching his gut. Was it too much to ask for? There was a second knock. “Who is it?”
All he could hear was some whispery childlike sound, but he couldn’t make out a single word. Irritated, he raised his voice. “Come in. It’s not locked.” He tossed his pen across the desk blotter and leaned back in his chair.
Peering around the opening door were big blue eyes. Those big blue eyes. Son of a gun, it was dumpling, the young woman he’d mistaken for a teenage patient that morning. Damned if he was going to be the first to speak, he sat watching her enter his office. First her head and shoulders came round the door. Next one foot. Then the other foot cautiously followed suit. There she was, as large than life, except in her case that equaled a petite picture of youth and enthusiasm—the last thing on earth, and especially today, that he needed. When the hell had been the last time he’d actually felt enthusiastic about anything?
With one hand behind her back, she cleared her throat. “Hi, Dr. Griffin.”
He sat as still as a boulder. Sure, he’d heard the rumblings about everyone going out for drinks after work that night, and little miss bright eyes being the instigator. Well, he wanted nothing to do with it. He didn’t believe in fraternizing with his staff. It didn’t set a good example. And even if he changed his mind, today would be the last day of any year he’d choose to break his hard and fast rule.
“Um...” Polly edged closer one tiny step at a time as he stared her down. “A bunch of us are going to O’Malley’s for some hot wings and beer, and...” She scratched her nose, her eyes darting around the room to avoid meeting his stare. “Well, I was, um, I mean, we were hoping you’d join us.”
“And why would I do that?” Even for him it came out gruffer than he’d meant.
She studied her feet. “To help raise your staff’s morale?”
“Morale? What’s that?”
“When people enjoy coming to work, and work better because of it?” She looked all of fifteen standing there, thick wavy dark blonde hair gathering on her shoulders, saucer-sized eyes, chewing her lower lip, hands behind her back, yet somehow seeming courageous.
Normally, he wasn’t into torture, but she’d been the one to come to him. It might be twisted, but making her squirm also distracted him from those morbid thoughts looping over and over in his mind.
“Are you their sacrifice?” he said. She glanced up, looking perplexed. “Did they put you up for the fall, being the new girl and all?”
“No, sir. I wanted to invite you. It was my idea.”
Her near opaque aqua eyes finally found their mark, and the sight of this young woman staring at him made the hairs on his arms rise. His wife had had eyes exactly like hers. Earlier today, they had been the first feature he’d noticed about the new nurse. Everything else about her physically was completely different from his wife, except those eyes. God, he missed Lisa.
But all the wishing in the world couldn’t bring her back.
“Do they need their morale raised?” he said, sounding dead flat even to himself. Who the hell was going to raise his morale? “Don’t they have lives to go home to every day? Doesn’t that raise their spirits enough without me having to babysit them in a bar, too?”
“They don’t need a babysitter. We’d all like to share a drink together, that’s all.” He saw the pink blush begin on her cheeks and spread rapidly to her neck and ears.
He wasn’t a monster. He felt bad that he’d made her feel so uncomfortable, but someone should have warned her about trying to involve him in anything social. Brooke
