Lone Star Baby. Cathy Thacker Gillen

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СКАЧАТЬ aside the memory of the bitter breakup, he shrugged. “I think it’s more what I refused to do.”

      Interest lit her curious eyes. “Which was...?”

      “Sugarcoat anything. Life is what it is.” Fate had taught him that. “I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”

      Violet pivoted to face him, her bent knee nudging his thigh.

      Trying not to think what it would feel like to have the rest of her touching him, in a much more intimate way, he admitted wryly, “I think the consensus is that I’m ‘emotionally unavailable.’ And therefore, profoundly undatable.”

      She tilted her head and then rose slowly, dusting off the seat of her pants.

      He noticed she didn’t argue the assessment.

      “That’s too bad. Everyone should have a great love at least once in their life.” Were they flirting? It seemed as if they were.

      He got to his feet, too. Glad to once again be towering over her. “At thirty-two, I hardly think my time has come and gone.”

      Violet laughed, suddenly looking a whole lot more relaxed. “True. I suppose there’s still a chance you’ll open up in here.” She tapped his heart.

      He quirked a brow. “Or not.”

      She was about to say something else when his phone beeped. He read the text message, then said, “I’m needed in the ER.” He paused in surprise as another text followed. “And so are you.”

Chapter Three

      The paramedics had just finished wheeling the gurney holding eighty-two-year-old Carlson Willoughby into an exam bay when Violet and Gavin walked in.

      As usual, Violet noted, his wife, Wanda, was by his side. Both were dressed in tracksuits that zipped up the front. Hers was pink and white; his, a jaunty navy blue.

      “Hey, Dr. McCabe.” Carlson lifted a hand weakly in greeting. As always, he was impeccably clean-shaven, but his thinning, snow-white hair was damp with what appeared to be sweat.

      Violet grinned at one of her favorite patients. “Back again?”

      He grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

      The paramedic handed Violet a chart. “He collapsed with pain on his lower right side. Because of his history, we felt it best to bring him in.”

      “A lot of fuss over nothing,” Carlson grumbled, glaring at his IV. He winked at his wife. “Although I do enjoy an ambulance ride from time to time.”

      “This is no joking matter, Carlson,” Wanda chided.

      “Everything is a joking matter,” he returned with an affable grin.

      “No fever,” the nurse taking his vitals said. “BP 140 over 100, heart rate 98.”

      Gavin stepped in, as attending ER physician, to do the physical exam. “So what else has been going on?” he asked while palpitating the older man’s abdomen.

      Violet noted Carlson seemed to be in pain.

      “He’s had stomach issues the past few days,” his wife explained.

      Carlson waved off the concern. “It was probably my cooking. I tried a new recipe as a surprise on our sixtieth wedding anniversary.”

      “Congratulations.” Violet smiled, impressed at the longevity of their relationship.

      Wanda told her husband, “Your tendency to overspice everything has nothing to do with this. If it did, you would be sick all the time.”

      Carlson guffawed.

      “Anything else of note?” Gavin asked, frowning as he checked the lymph nodes.

      Carlson was mum.

      “He’s had pain,” his wife declared. “I know he has for weeks now. He just won’t admit it.”

      “Everyone our age has pain.”

      Wanda dabbed her eyes. “I think the cancer has returned.”

      Violet hoped that was not the case. She’d become very close to the older couple over the past five years. Too close, she sometimes thought.

      “Which was why I asked for you.” Carlson looked pointedly at Violet. “I want you to tell Wanda that’s just not true.”

      Violet forced a matter-of-fact smile.

      “All this is, is old age and indigestion,” the patient declared stalwartly. “Tell her, Dr. McCabe.”

      Violet wished it was that simple. “You know I can’t rule anything out from an oncology perspective until we do a few tests. Which you are about due for, anyway, aren’t you?”

      Carlson groaned at the prospect. Defiantly, he attempted to sit up and shook his head. “Now that I’ve celebrated our anniversary here—”

      Gavin gave the couple a curious look.

      “We met in the ER sixty years ago, fell in love at first sight and married a week later,” Wanda explained. She patted her husband’s hand fondly. “And I have never regretted loving this man for an instant.”

      “Nor I you. And now that we’ve commemorated that great day with yet another trip to the hospital, I just want to go home,” Carlson said stubbornly.

      “And you will. In a day or so. After we make sure everything is as it should be,” Violet said soothingly.

      Briefly, she and Gavin stepped out to consult and then she returned to the exam room. “Dr. Monroe confirms you are in no immediate danger. However, we both think you need more tests. So I’m admitting you on the oncology floor.”

      “Thank heaven.” Wanda exhaled in relief.

      Carlson scowled in mock aggravation. “Don’t be so anxious to get rid of me!”

      “Hey,” Wanda replied, her usual good cheer returning now that her husband was in good hands. “Even I deserve a Carlson-free evening every now and then.” She winked at her beloved. “So stop trying to ruin it for me!”

      The couple chuckled in unison. Their verbal one-upmanship continued, to the amusement of the staff.

      Grinning, Violet stepped out to the nurses’ station to write the orders.

      By the time she had finished, Carlson was already on his way up to a private room. Gavin had been called to stitch up a teenager who had accidentally thrown a baseball through a window, then cut his hand while cleaning up the broken glass.

      And that was when one of his sisters, Bridgette, rushed through the emergency entrance.

      She and her twin, Bess, were both nurses. But only Bridgette had returned to Laramie to live.

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