When The Right One Comes Along

“We’re in for it,” he said to Cal as he assisted him into the bucket of the articulated lift. “They know what we did. When the aftershock hit, I had to report in. This—” he pointed to Cal’s thigh “—isn’t going to help us. I don’t think you’ll be able to play the sympathy card. Williams is really pissed.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

The boom lowered Cal and Scout to street level. With no other way to get there, Adam helped Cal hobble over to the triage area on one leg. Excruciating pain shot through him each time his right leg moved, let alone if his foot inadvertently touched the ground. They advanced slowly, in stark contrast to other people still rushing around.

“Do you know how the little girl, Kayla, is?” Cal asked, head down, watching for trip hazards on the pavement as they neared the medical area.

“You can find out for yourself,” he responded. “She’s with a doctor right now.”

Cal looked up and saw Kayla sitting on a makeshift examination table. The little girl held hands with an older woman who was crouched down in front of her and was obviously consoling her. Another woman in scrubs was examining her.

Kayla’s clothes were filthy; her hair was matted and dirty and tucked behind her ears. But there was no denying whose daughter she was. In the overhead lights, he could see she was a miniature version of her very beautiful mother.

Cal wondered if they’d had a chance to contact her father yet. He hoped that knowing his daughter had survived would alleviate some of the grief the man would feel when he learned about the death of his wife. And Kayla had lost her mother. It occurred to Cal again that if he’d been the one to die, his little girl, Haley, wouldn’t even know it.

As they approached the doctor, he really looked at her for the first time. He felt an immediate and visceral tightening in his gut. It astonished him, especially under the circumstances. The devastation around them, his severe pain and his view of relationships—yet there it was, no denying it.

She wasn’t classically beautiful. Not like Kayla’s mother. She was tall and lithe. On the slim side. Her face was a little longish, dominated by huge wide-set eyes; he couldn’t discern the color. Her nose was average, her mouth perhaps a bit too wide. But there was something about her that just grabbed him and wouldn’t let go. Then there was the hair. Pulled back in a ponytail, untidy and sweaty as it was, he could tell it was a thick, heavy, straw-colored mass.

The thoughts running through his mind made him suspect he’d hit his head without being aware of it. After Anna, he wasn’t interested in women. His reaction to the doctor annoyed him, and it showed in his demeanor.

“How is she?” Cal asked irritably and without preamble as they reached the triage area. Silver-gray eyes shot up, the doctor’s gaze meeting his.

* * *

JESSICA NARROWED HER eyes as she glared at the man standing before her, shirtless and leaning heavily on the shoulder of a firefighter. His simple question sounded both gruff and belligerent. Her gaze dropped to the well-muscled chest and arms, before sliding lower and seeing the makeshift tourniquet, understanding why he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “Marcia,” she called, keeping her eyes on the man but a steadying hand on the girl. “Can you please get Mr....?” She looked at the man inquiringly.

“Palmer. I’m a cop. Or just Calen. Or Cal.”

“Marcia, please help Officer Palmer sit down and get the weight off that leg and check his vitals until I can see him.”

“I asked how Kayla was,” he repeated, unmoving.

At the sound of her name, the little girl looked up and her crying eased. Her eyes brightened for the first time since Jessica had seen her. “Cal,” she squealed, twisting sideways and raising her skinny arms up for him. He obliged her with a hug. “You’re hurt,” she exclaimed.

“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine,” he said.

“Where’s Mommy?” Kayla asked, trying to see around the cop.

“Let’s worry about that later, okay?” he said evasively. “How’re you?”

Jess was shocked by the complete transformation in his tone and deportment, but sadly she could see the answer to Kayla’s question in his eyes.

“Dr. Hansen says I’ll be fine.” She reached back for Jessica’s hand. Jess took it in her own and gave it a squeeze. For a moment, they formed a unit—linked through the child. For some reason, that realization made Jessica uncomfortable. She slid her hand out of Kayla’s and placed it on the little girl’s knee to get her attention.

“Yes, you’ll be fine, Kayla. But just to make sure, I want you to go to the hospital. Get checked out. Okay?” She’d triaged Kayla as “delayed.” Her injuries were likely relatively mild, concussion being the most serious concern, but she needed to be examined more thoroughly for possible internal injuries.

“Um. ’Kay. Will my mommy be there?”

Jessica met Cal’s eyes again over the top of Kayla’s head. The man was an enigma. His eyes were filled with anguish, and Jessica surmised that she’d been right—he knew more about Kayla’s mother than he’d said. She was worried about how the girl would handle the bad news and wanted to postpone it, at least until she had family with her. “We’ll see,” she murmured, and rethought her course of action. “But Mrs. Rodrigues,” she said, turning to Marcia, “will go with you. How about that?”

“Okay.” Kayla sounded unsure. “Can Cal come with me, too?”

“Unfortunately not.” When Kayla’s lower lip protruded, Jessica rushed on. “I need to examine him, too.” Jessica looked at Calen’s injured leg and Kayla’s gaze followed. She saw the distress on the little girl’s face and drew Kayla’s attention back to her. “But you might see Officer Palmer there. And Marcia—Mrs. Rodrigues—will be with you.”

“But...” Marcia began, and Jessica turned imploring eyes on her.

“I know what you’re going to say.” Jessica spoke in a hushed whisper. “We’re not finished here yet. Well, we nearly are.” She touched Marcia’s arm. “And this little girl needs you.” She dropped her voice even further. “If the cop’s face is any indication, she just lost her mother.”

Jess could see Marcia’s internal struggle. It showed in every line of her face, in the depth of her eyes. She understood that Marcia probably feared she was getting too involved with this child. But how could she not? Kayla’s mother had almost certainly died in the earthquake.

“Please,” she entreated.

“Fine.”

Kayla was still grasping Jessica’s hand and didn’t seem to want to let go. Jess gave her hand a tug. “You’re going to the hospital now, and Mrs. Rodrigues will go with you. The doctors there will do some tests, but Mrs. Rodrigues will stay with you the whole time.” She looked at Marcia, who nodded resignedly.

“And my mommy?”

“Let’s get you taken care of first, okay?”

“Will you be there? Will you do the tests at the hospital?”

“No, I won’t, but if you’re still there when I get back, I’ll come see you.” Jessica could have bitten off her tongue the minute the words were out of her mouth, and she could see the disapproval on Marcia’s face. She would not see Kayla at the hospital. She was a trauma surgeon. She’d chosen that field so she could treat patients and then be done. No attachment. No follow-up.

Kayla nodded. She hugged Cal again, and let Marcia lead her away.

Jessica turned to her next and apparently last patient, the man leaning heavily on the firefighter who’d helped him to the triage area. At first she’d wondered if he might have been Kayla’s father, but she’d quickly dismissed that thought. If he was, he would’ve said so. He was injured, but she sensed that wasn’t all that contributed to his surliness. A hard day all around, she supposed.

She took in his tall, muscular frame, his brown hair, ocean-green eyes, the jeans and absence of a shirt, the strong face with the slightly crooked nose, the frowning mouth. She noticed the dog by his side for the first time. She loved dogs and knew them well, having grown up with them. This one was a beauty. A near-black shepherd, although his coat was covered in dust. From the size of him, probably a king shepherd, with large paws and alert, intelligent, appraising eyes. He had to be a police dog.

“You’re next.” Jessica gestured to the cop to sit on her exam table.

The firefighter helped Cal shuffle over. “I guess I’ll be seeing you later over that...matter that’ll need to be addressed,” he said.

Jessica saw the cop’s expression soften again as he patted the firefighter on the back. “Don’t worry about it, Adam. I’ll take care of it.” He held out his hand. “Thanks,” he said as they shook hands.

The moment the cop turned his attention back to her, Jessica felt uncharacteristically self-conscious in her baggy scrubs. The anger was back in his eyes, but Jessica had no idea why she seemed to elicit hostility from him. It had to be her, though, since there’d been no sign of it when he’d interacted with the girl or the firefighter.

Her only concern with the cop, she reminded herself, was dealing with his leg wound and getting him to the hospital. She snapped on a new pair of thin blue gloves. “How did this happen?” she asked briskly. If he could have an attitude, so could she.

“As I said, I’m a cop.” He pointed to the dog. “Scout and I were part of the rescue team.”

Jessica checked Cal’s vitals, as Marcia hadn’t had a chance to do it, and focused on his injury. The wound looked bad. He had every right to be angry, she decided. Tired, too. She wasn’t feeling much friendlier herself. She’d been at it for hours now, all through the night, and the number of injured was significant. That could excuse his surliness, but it didn’t explain why it seemed to be directed at her.

“You rescued Kayla?”

He nodded.