Unbridled

“You aren’t leaving already?” Merrie York exclaimed. “Sunny, the party is just starting!”

They worked together on the pediatric ward, on the night shift. Merrie was a wonderful nurse, patient and kind. She and her brother lived south of San Antonio on a huge ranch. They were absolutely loaded, but Stuart and Merrie both still worked.

“I have to go,” Sunny said, forcing a smile. “You know I’m no party animal, I’ll just put a damper on things.”

“You were dancing with Ruiz,” Merrie said with a wicked grin. “Isn’t he beautiful? You should have cut loose, girl. You can outdance anybody else here.”

“He’s so gorgeous,” she confessed. “It shocked me, a man like that wanting to dance with somebody as plain as me.”

Merrie grinned. “He is handsome, isn’t he? You wouldn’t believe the women who chase him. He just walks right by them. You should have kept dancing, Sunny,” she added.

“I don’t like dancing in front of people,” she faltered.

“I can’t remember the last time I saw Ruiz look twice at a woman, much less ask her to dance,” Merrie began.

“I feel terrible,” Sunny said huskily. “He thought I didn’t want to dance with him, because he was Hispanic. That wasn’t it at all. I didn’t believe someone like him, who could have had any woman in the room, would even want to dance with me. It...shocked me.”

“You undervalue yourself,” Merrie said softly. “You aren’t plain, Sunny. You’re unique, in so many ways.”

She smiled at the compliment. “Thanks.” She hesitated. “Merrie, that man I danced with...who is he?” Sunny asked helplessly, hungry for more information about the man who’d chosen her from a roomful of beautiful nurses to dance with.

“He’s... Oh, darn, I have to go, Motts is waving frantically. I promised him a dance, and he’s being stalked by Sylvia,” she said with mock horror. “She’s so nice. He’s afraid of her, so I’m his security blanket.”

“He’s afraid of her?” she asked, diverted.

“Sylvia wants to get married and have kids, and Motts wants to sample at least one woman of every name in the baby book,” Merrie said with a chuckle. “And no, he hasn’t sampled me. My brother would have him for lunch, and my sister-in-law would help put catsup on him.”

“You and your family,” Sunny laughed. “Your brother is really good-looking,” she added, because she’d seen Stuart York on rare occasions when he came to hospital functions with his wife, Ivy. Merrie and Stuart were rich beyond imagining, owning thousands of acres of ranch land in three states. They ran purebred cattle. Neither of them had to work for a living, but Merrie loved nursing and couldn’t contend with a life of leisure, any more than Stuart could sit at a desk.

Merrie looked very much like her only sibling; she had long, jet-black hair and pale, steely blue eyes. She didn’t really date anyone seriously, although she’d had a crush on a divorced doctor who’d just gone back to his wife. Like Sunny, Merrie didn’t really move with the times. She wasn’t into multiple relationships.

“My sister-in-law would totally agree, that my brother is gorgeous,” came the amused reply.

“Are they ever going to have kids?” Sunny wondered.

“I keep hoping. So far, they’re making the rounds of all the historic places on earth. I think they’re down to the last thousand now.” She grimaced as she glanced toward the refreshment table. “Got to run. Motts is turning purple. Don’t go,” she pleaded. “You stay too much by yourself.”

“I like my own company,” she said gently. “But thanks. See you. I’m off until Monday!”

“Lucky devil. I wish I was. Be careful going home.”

“I always am,” Sunny said, and shivered inwardly. She usually took cabs that she couldn’t afford, even though her apartment was only two blocks away. She was too afraid to walk through neighborhoods with gang activity. But sometimes money was really tight, and she had to make the perilous journey.

She’d lived in the neighborhood since she was thirteen. She’d shared it with her mother and little brother until the tragedy that left her alone. Now she hated the very sight of the gang that had taken over the once peaceful block of apartments, who were called Los Diablos Lobitos—the Little Devil Wolves. They ranged in age from early teens to early twenties and they terrified everyone, but especially Sunny. She had more reason than most to hate and fear them.

The cabdriver let her out at her front door. She paid him and he flashed her a smile as he drove off. She walked inside, unlocked her door and looked around her meager surroundings.

It was a ground-floor, one-bedroom apartment. No frills, no luxuries. There was a small stove that she used for cooking and a fridge that had some age on it but still functioned. Her twin bed had a bedspread that her mother had painstakingly crocheted, and of which Sunny was very fond. It was multicolored, beautiful. It brightened the dull room.

The back window bothered her, because it had a loose screen and she couldn’t lock it. She’d asked the maintenance man to fix it times without number, and he always promised. But somehow, he never seemed to get around to it. So far, nobody had tried to break in. Probably they knew she had nothing worth stealing.

She had a very small television that had been given to her, secondhand, by one of the other nurses. The apartment’s rent covered cable, so she had access to the local news and weather and a few programs that were free. She could never have afforded a package that offered prime movies and things. Not that she missed them. Her shift left her drained and ready for bed. She slept, if fitfully. She did have Wi-Fi, courtesy of the landlord, as well as all utilities. The apartments were occupied mostly by people in the services industry, predominantly medical personnel. Marcus Carrera might have been a mobster at one time, but he was a man with a huge heart. Sunny never failed to send him birthday cards and Christmas cards, always with thanks. He’d done a lot for her in the past. He was married to a very nice Jacobsville woman and they had a little son.

Lying in bed, in her soft white cotton gown, she thought about the gorgeous man who’d tugged her onto the dance floor at work. What had they called him, Ruiz? Was that his first name or last name, she wondered. Surely a man that handsome was married. He looked to be in his early thirties, another reason he was probably spoken for.

She wished she could have explained why she was nervous about dancing with him. She was sorry she’d given him the idea she didn’t like him because his skin was just a little darker than hers. She loved Latin men. Her favorite music was Latin, and she loved the dances her dad had taught her.

But she was shy around men she didn’t know. Sunny had only dated once in high school, and the date had been a disaster. She still shivered with misery, thinking about what had happened. The experience had taught her that it was better to be alone than to try her luck with a man. She knew that she was repulsive to them. Hadn’t her date told her so, graphically? It had been a painful experience. But perhaps it had been a good one. It taught her that she would be alone for the rest of her life, and that she must make the most of it.

She’d done her nurses’ training at the Hal Marshall Memorial Hospital, but when this new adjacent children’s hospital opened, she’d opted to apply there, along with a few nurses she already knew, like Merrie York. It was a wonderful place to work. People were friendly, even the administrator, and the rooms were like children’s rooms at home, stocked with toys and pictures on the wall and things that made the environment less traumatic for them while they recovered from illnesses and surgeries. Sunny loved her job. But she was lonely.

Several of her coworkers kept trying to set her up with men. She didn’t know what she was missing, one laughed, a girl who had two lovers. Sunny needed to get rid of her hang-ups and dive into the dating scene. Wasn’t she unhappy, going without sex?

Sunny had replied that she couldn’t very well miss something she’d never had, which caused the girl to give her a shocked, pitying look and get back to work. It wasn’t something she advertised, but the comment had disturbed her. She went to church, although fitfully. She only had a couple of Sundays off in a month. But she loved her congregation and was welcomed on the days she could participate in the services. Faith had carried her through many storms. She didn’t advertise that, though. It was better to never discuss religion or politics with strangers, her mother had once said. It was the best way in the world to start a fight. Sunny, who’d noticed some very hot arguments in the latest political climate, couldn’t help but agree.

* * *

She had an emergency a few days later. One of the children in her ward, a toddler, Bess, had been showing signs of abdominal distress. The little girl had suddenly started screaming, and Sunny had called for a doctor. The examination disclosed a blockage in the child’s colon, which led to immediate surgery.

It depressed Sunny, who’d become attached to Bess. She had bright yellow curls and big blue eyes, and Sunny spent a little more time with her than with the other children when she was on duty. Bess had only one parent, a mother who was working two jobs to support her four children. The father had just walked away from the big family he’d said he wanted, when he became involved with another woman. So Bess’s poor mother struggled just to feed them.

Bess had been in the hospital for a week already, confined for vague symptoms that didn’t seem to clear up and which had been difficult to diagnose until today. At least, after the surgery, the child would improve and could go home. It was a charity case, one of many the children’s hospital took on without argument. So many people still couldn’t afford even basic medical insurance, despite the government’s attempts to provide it to those most in need.

She worked her shift, making up reports, checking vitals, providing comfort and care to all her little patients. She was looking forward to seeing Bess out of surgery. She frowned as she looked at the clock. Surely the surgery was over by now? It had been several hours. She hadn’t noticed because she’d been so busy.

As she started to go off duty, she saw the surgeon who had performed the operation on Bess. She smiled as she asked him how the child was. The smile faded when she saw his expression. He looked devastated.

He explained, tight-lipped, that the child had gone into cardiac arrest during the surgery, and none of their efforts had been successful in bringing her back. They’d lost her due to an undiagnosed heart condition that nobody had even suspected she had.

He walked away, his expression betraying his sorrow. Surgeons sometimes went off by themselves for hours after they lost a patient, Sunny knew. They took it hard when they couldn’t save one.

Sunny gave her report to the next shift, tidied up her things and left the hospital in a daze. Bess was gone. Sweet little Bess, who’d always been smiling and happy. She fought tears. Nurses were taught not to get too close to their patients. It interfered with duty, one of the senior nurses had told her, because attachment led to grief when a patient was lost. But Sunny had never learned how to separate her heart from her job, and she mourned.

* * *

The apartment was lonely. It was her second Sunday off in two weeks, a lucky break, and she was off the next day as well. Nurses worked long shifts during a very long week before days off, but they were fulfilling ones. Usually. Not today.

She had plenty to do. There was laundry to sort, cabinets to clean out. She could vacuum. She could bake a pie. But none of those mundane tasks helped the hurt.

In the end, she did what she always did when she was depressed and unable to cope with life. She took a cab to the San Fernando Cathedral and went inside to light a candle for her late father, who had been Catholic.

She smiled sadly at the memory. He’d been driving a cattle truck for a rancher down near Jacobsville when a dog had run into the road and he’d swerved to avoid hitting it. The truck had overturned and killed him instantly.

Sunny and her mother, Sandra, and her little brother, Mark, had been devastated. Like now, it was the holiday season, which just amplified the loss as families gathered around Christmas trees to sing carols.

Her father, Ryan Wesley, had been a lifelong Catholic. Her mother had been a staunch Methodist. But the differences in faith hadn’t dulled the feeling her parents had for each other. It was truly a love match. They’d met in grammar school. They’d always known that they’d marry one day and have kids.

Sunny smiled at the memory. Her mother had loved to take out the family album and sit around the apartment with Sunny and Mark and tell them the stories that went with the wealth of photographs going back to Sandra’s own childhood, and Ryan’s. They’d been very close after the accident, so it had hurt terribly when Sunny lost her mother and brother in a tragedy that still had the power to bring tears to her eyes six years afterward.