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“She was just leaving. Jess is supposed to be working in pod one, but she’s trying to hide.” Meghan cackles.
“Hide from who?”
“Bernie Leftwich.”
“The firefighter? He’s not so bad,” I reply, dropping my work bag into an empty chair.
“He’s been relentlessly trying to corner her each time they bring us a patient.” Meghan grins. “To ask her out.”
“Bernie’s not a bad guy. He’s just not my type,” Jess adds.
“Yeah, you’re more into guys who can’t commit.” Kat giggles.
“Not the ones who overcommit.” Meghan’s smile is infectious. “Go on, Jess. Before Roslyn finds you over here, andwe all catch hell for it. Be a big girl. Just tell him you’re sleeping with one of the docs.”
“What?” I cover my mouth, shocked. “How am I always the last to know?”
“Oh, she’s not. Yet. But you mark my words. I give it six months, and I bet her and Dr. D will be tighter than two ticks on a hound’s butt,” Kat mutters.
Spinning to face Jess, I ask, “Donovan Grant?”
“Kat’s full of it. He’s not into me.”
All three of us stare at Jess with blank expressions. How can she not know?
“Did I miss the memo where it was a holiday today?” Roslyn barks.
Dammit. I scurry over to the computer to sign in and whisper to Meghan, “Which rooms do you want me to take?”
“How about you do the left side of the hall, and I do the right? And we’ll both pitch in for fries to bribe Kat to slow down so we aren’t seeing them as fast as she usually does.”
“Deal!”
Glancing at my watch, I find the day has passed quickly. 2:30 p.m. Only thirty minutes to go. This shift has gone much smoother with Kat and Meghan here. It would’ve been great if it weren’t for Roslyn and the fact Georgia had taken the day off.
Grabbing my stethoscope, I head into room three and find a mother and child sitting on the stretcher. The young girl appears to be Caleb’s age. Walking over to squat in front of the little girl, I introduce myself. “Hi, I’m your nurse, Jillian. What brings you to the emergency room today?”
Before her mother can answer, the child opens her mouth and projectile vomit sprays over the entire front of my clothes. The child immediately begins to cry, and I contemplate doing the same. Luckily, I decided on an impromptu updo before bathing Truitt this morning. So, I don’t think any of it got into my hair.
“It’s okay. We’ll get you all cleaned up.” I exit her room and am greeted by Meghan and Kat.
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry,” Kat says.
“Go clean up, and I’ll get her started,” Meghan adds. “I think she might have strep throat. Her chief complaint was a sore throat and fever.”
“We’ve got this, Jill. You go.”
Holding my hands out in front of me, unsure what is clean and what isn’t, I head to the locker rooms, where I keep a fresh pair of scrubs for this type of occasion. And to think I only needed thirty more minutes, and I would’ve made it free and clear. At the rate I’m going, I shouldstayin the shower.
An hour and a half later, I stumble through the front doorway, my arms loaded down with supplies to make spaghetti dinner. “I’m home!” I shout into the air, right before my foot slides across the floor, and I fly through the air, groceries raining down upon me as I land flat on my back.
“Jilly!” my mother shouts.
“Ouch,” I utter quietly before my head falls back to the floor.
“You okay?”
“I don’t know. I might be bleeding. My butt feels wet.”
