style="font-size:15px;"> Lucas watched as a woman clutched Rachel’s hands, offering her thanks. She was Hispanic, her jet-black hair showing a few impressive streaks of white, her black eyes sharp and bright with unshed tears.
“De nada, señora.” Rachel answered, continuing on in hushed Spanish tones that Lucas could neither follow nor understand.
“What’s the commotion?” Dr. Graham’s voice came from behind him, followed quickly by a chortle of laughter.
“Ah, yes,” Dr. Campbell said, smiling at Lucas, nodding his head toward the ruckus. “Today, Tómas goes home. He is a fan of Rachel’s, I’m afraid.”
Lucas searched the cluster of people, seeking someone who might be considered a patient. He finally spotted a boy, perhaps thirteen years old, sitting in a wheelchair, a hand and a leg encased in plaster. Or fiberglass, or something, Lucas corrected. Whatever they make casts out of these days.
The young boy, blushing furiously, clearly had eyes only for Rachel. She handed him a bouquet of balloons, speaking to him in Spanish, and posed for a picture with him. Lucas supposed the woman must be the boy’s mother.
Lucas’s first glimpse into Rachel on the job left him uneasy—and grudgingly respectful.
The group eventually arrived at the elevator, freeing Rachel to make her way over to Lucas when she saw him.
“Hello,” she said, smiling lightly. “How did your meeting go?”
“Fine, fine,” he answered. “I met Dr. Graham as well as Dr. Campbell. Dr. Graham is Michaela’s doctor for…this?”
Rachel nodded.
“Right,” Lucas resumed. “Anyway, they gave me my marching orders and a whole lot more, right here.” He held up the handful of papers. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“I might see you then,” Rachel said, making to leave.
Lucas’s hand shot out, as if to grab her, a motion she evaded. “Um, wait, Rachel.” Now that he had her attention, he wasn’t sure what to say next. “So you’re a nurse.” It wasn’t particularly elegant or profound, but he had succeeded in extending the conversation.
“Yes.”
“How long…how long have you worked here?”
“This is the first and only place I’ve ever worked Lucas. I’ve been here five years.”
“Five years,” he repeated stupidly, understanding the significance of that time period. She had obviously started working here just when they had separated. When she’d finished school.
“Yes, Lucas. I interviewed for a position while you were in Las Vegas. It was one of the things I was doing…that week. I took the position as head a couple of years ago. I certainly wasn’t hired as head.”
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