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“Just . . . be . . . quiet . . . ,” she says, huffing out the words.
I do as she says, keeping an eye out for the gerbil.
“Got him,” she finally declares.
A collective sigh of relief goes around the room, though not from Evie, who lets out a little squeak.
Lucy eases out from under the desk, smiling as she cradles a visibly shaking, tiny gerbil in her hands. “I’ve got you, little guy,” she says.
He’s cute. I reach over and pet him on the head. His fur feels soft to the touch. He sniffs my hand a couple of times before retreating back into Lucy’s grasp.
“Oh, thank goodness,” the dad says.
“Get that thing out of my station,” Evie demands, sounding relieved and keeping her eyes averted from the ball of fluff in Lucy’s hands.
I help her stand up, and we both walk over to the dad.
“I’m so sorry,” the dad says as Lucy hands over the tiny critter.
“It’s okay,” she tells him.
We both follow him to the patient room and then inside.
“Cinnamon!” his daughter says when she sees her pet has been found, a trail of fresh tears running down her freckled cheeks. She looks tiny in that big bed, her mom sitting in a chair next to her.
I move to the room’s laptop and pull up her chart. “It looks like you still have an hour and a half to wait after the last dose of epinephrine,” I say to the room. “Think you can keep that little guy safe until then?” I look at the little girl this time, who gives me a quick nod.
“I’ll hold on to him,” the dad says.
After Lucy does a quick check of the little girl’s vitals, we exit the room.
“Well done, Price,” I say, giving her a closed-mouth smile. I’m not sure why I just called her by her last name, but I kind of like it. It also feels like a boundary of sorts.
I nudge her with my elbow. “Impressive gerbil-catching skills you’ve got there.”
“Just another day at Aspen Lake General,” she says. She smiles at me, a beautiful, bright grin that makes her eyes sparkle.
Old me would have told her that, and then added something flirtatious like, Has anyone ever told you your smile lights up a room? Yeah, I was that guy. I’m still him, really. I’m just learning to bury that part of me.
“Lucy,” Evie says as we approach the nurses’ station. She’s got a can of Lysol and is currently spraying it all over the entire area. “Take your lunch.”
“Sure thing,“ Lucy says. She turns toward me. “Want to join me?”
I hear a clicking noise and see Evie is now attempting to use a step stool to reach the shelving that spans the back wall so she can douse it with disinfecting spray.
I lean in toward Lucy. “Are you going to tell her the rodent was never up there, or should I?”
She doesn’t answer or look my way, but I see her pink lips pull upward, and she gives me a light little hip check.
There’s a camaraderie between us that’s come on suddenly. It might be that we’ve finally had a conversation after all this time, or that we just bonded over catching a gerbil and Evie’s phobia of them. It might be that I’m a man starved of this kind of attention.
Whatever it is, I like it.
Lucy
Twenty Minutes Before the Incident
Monday, January 1, 6:30 p.m.
