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No way was he ready for anything on a personal level. He'd silently made a promise to himself, not to disrupt Shannon’s life. Especially after the way her mother had died forcing her to live with him, the father she hadn’t known.
Keeping that promise meant staying away from the beautiful Jillian Davis.
* * *
Jillian spentthe rest of her weekend trying to wrench the image of Alec talking to his daughter out of her head. She had thought him an attractive man before she'd known about the little girl. It had been a bit of a shock to find out he was a dad, but seeing him in his sensitive caring mode had made prying him from her mind even more difficult.
Reading professional medical journals helped to a certain extent, because there was always so much to learn. After a couple of hours though, her mind drifted back to Alec. Annoyed, she considered calling the emergency department to see if they needed additional help. Anything was better than sitting around, dwelling on her lack of a personal life.
Especially when the void hadn't bothered her up until now.
When her phone rang early Saturday evening, she was surprised and just a little disappointed when the caller was one of her colleagues, Craig Bartlett.
“Hi Craig. What's up?”
“Hey, Jillian. I need a favor.”
“Sure.” At the moment she would have agreed to almost anything. “What do you need? Someone to cover your shift at Trinity?”
“Sort of. Trinity Medical Center and Children's Memorial Hospital are sponsoring the Festival of the Arts down at the lakefront this weekend. I'm supposed to be volunteering in the first aid station tomorrow, but my son is sick. Would you mind taking my shift from one to four in the afternoon?”
“Of course.” Manning the first aid station didn't sound too hard. Besides, she didn't mind volunteer work.
“Thanks a lot.” Greg sounded relieved. “I owe you.”
“No, you don't. Seriously, this isn’t a big deal. It sounds like fun. Take care of yourself and your son.”
“I will.”
The next day Jillian headed down to the lakefront early, so she could make sure to find a parking spot. The Art Museum was a beautiful modern white structure overlooking the shore of Lake Michigan. There were various art displays set up along the lakefront and she took a few minutes to browse through the works by local artists before heading over to the small trailer with the universal Red Cross on the front.
A man and a woman stood inside. The guy looked familiar. He stepped forward with a welcoming smile. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“Yes. I'm Dr. Jillian Davis, I'm here to cover Craig's shift.”
“Ah, that explains it. I didn't think you were Craig.” His green eyes twinkled. “I'm Adam, and my shift is over.” He glanced at the woman standing beside him. “Mary, would you mind giving Jillian the rundown of how we're set up?”
“No problem.” The woman offered a cheery smile. “My name is Mary Drover, and I'll be here all day.”
“Better you than me,” Adam said with a laugh.
Mary rolled her eyes. “Go on, get out of here. Thanks for helping out.” Mary turned to her. “When I'm not here you can get in touch with me via this phone number.” Mary tapped a large piece of paper with a phone number printed on it which was taped to the top of the table.
“Nice meeting you, Jillian. See you later, Mary.” Adam gave them both a little wave as he left the trailer.
Mary spent a few minutes showing her around. The trailer was set up very much like a mini emergency room. Plenty of supplies to care for minor injuries all the way up to broken limbs.
“Alright, I'm going to walk around outside for a while.” Mary pointed at the sign. “Call me if you need me.”
“Sure thing.” Jillian nodded. She hadn't known what to expect from the first aid station, but alone in the trailer, she looked around and thought maybe she should have brought something to read in order to keep busy.
It turned out her optimism was premature. Within ten minutes she heard a little boy crying and a young mother rushed in, clutching a little boy in her arms, her blouse smeared with blood. “My son Joey fell and hit the back of his head on the pavement.”
“Okay, let's take a look.” Jillian patted the exam table, indicating to the mother to set Joey, who appeared to be about five or so, down. “Did he lose consciousness at all?”
“No. He just started crying.” The woman looked as if she might dissolve into tears, too.
The boy was still crying and she tried to soothe him as she examined the back of his head. “There, now, Joey, it's alright. I know your head hurts, but you're fine now.” Thankfully the cut was relatively small, but there was some tissue swelling. She took a moment to check his pupils, which he didn’t like, but then stood. “I don't think he’ll need stitches.” She glanced at his mother. “But there is a small lump back here and I'd like to apply a cold pack.”
