Hannah Alexander - A Killing Frost

Jama patted her pocket. “I keep it locked in my car. I’ve been in places where one of these might have come in handy.” Like tonight, if she’d had a chance to get it out of her pocket. There’d been no time.

Ruth glanced down at Jama’s clothing. “You look awful.”

“It’s been a long day. Doriann is safe, one of the kidnappers is in the custody of the FBI, and-”

“And you were involved in the apprehension?” Ruth asked, nodding toward the bloody sleeve of Jama’s jacket.

“I had backup. Tyrell arrived in time to keep me alive, and then the FBI came to haul away everyone but me.”

“How did you rate a stay here?”

“I have a patient at Zelda’s. Her granddaughter will need some attention first thing in the morning.”

“I heard the activity, especially the chopper.” Ruth reached out and tugged on Jama’s sleeve. “Let’s take a look at you.”

Jama pulled off her jacket and allowed herself to be led back to the first treatment room. She sat down, leaned back and felt some of the adrenaline that had kept her going begin to drain from her. Someone else could take care of her arm. Someone else was taking care of Doriann, of Monty.

But Debra and her worried grandmother?

Nothing could be done for a patient who declined treatment. For the past couple of hours, a nagging suspicion had grown in Jama. She didn’t want to think it through now.

“Any particular reason for the tears?” Ruth asked. “Or are you doing as I do, using them as a pressure valve release?”

Jama looked up at her director, surprised by this bit of personal sharing. She winced as Ruth probed the wound.

“An incident in my past has caught up with me,” Jama said.

“Just one?” Ruth’s voice held the same gentle kindness it had when she’d spoken of Doriann’s abduction earlier today, and when she’d spoken with Ted. “I’m sorry that some of your troubles today came from me. I didn’t stop to consider a few things.” She probed the puncture deeply again.

This time Jama didn’t wince. She knew the routine. A wound like hers had to be thoroughly irrigated and checked for foreign particles.

“What didn’t you consider?” she asked Ruth.

“That the tales I heard about your youthful escapades might have little connection to the strong, capable and self-assured woman you’ve become.”

Jama looked up into Ruth’s golden-brown eyes. She wasn’t being sarcastic. Wow. What kind of metamorphosis was this?

“You weren’t the one who caused the trouble,” Jama said, then thought about that. “Okay, some of my trouble might have come from wondering if I was going to be in conflict with you for the next two years.”

“Which is still a possibility,” Ruth assured her. “Three opinionated women working together may strike some sparks, but iron sharpens iron. I realize you’ve had a rough first day, but I called St. Mary’s earlier, and your foster father is still doing very well. Is Doriann going to be okay?”

“You called?”

“Of course. I knew you’d be worried, and I noticed that you didn’t receive a lot of updates this afternoon.”

“That was kind of you.”

Ruth gave a wry smile. “I can be that way on occasion. How’s Doriann?”

“Physically, she looked good. There was no evidence that she was violated.” For some reason, Jama couldn’t stop thinking about Debra’s injuries.

“So…back to you, then.” Ruth examined an injury on Jama’s forehead that Jama hadn’t known was there. Ruth cleansed it and put ointment on it. “The tears?”

Jama hesitated, eyeing Ruth’s wrinkled scrubs and bare feet again. “Do you really have a place to stay in Hermann?”

“Obviously not tonight.”

“All the lodging full? That surprises me. This is so early in the tourist season. I’d think you could find some good deals.”

“Not the kind of deal I’m going to need.” Ruth’s voice changed. She wouldn’t meet Jama’s gaze.

“Where’s your car?” Jama asked. “It isn’t in the parking lot.”

“I pulled it behind the building so I wouldn’t get any midnight drop-ins. Since your car’s still out there, however, my efforts weren’t much use.”

“Where will you stay?” Jama asked.

“I’ll stay in River Dance as soon as I find a place to rent.”

“And until then?”

Ruth’s eyebrows went up. “You’re pretty good at changing the subject, aren’t you?”

“So are you.” Jama flexed her arm and stood up from the treatment chair. “If you need a place to stay-”

“I have a place to stay,” Ruth said, finally meeting Jama’s gaze. “It’s right here until the city council coughs up my signing bonus.”

“Missionaries don’t make a lot of money,” Jama said.

“No, and their accommodations are sometimes less comfortable than a pallet on the floor and a hot shower in a building that is warm when it’s cold outside, and cool when the weather heats up.”

“I know of fifty people here in River Dance who would gladly offer free room and board to a wandering missionary.”

Ruth sighed and sank into the wheeled treatment stool; she gestured for Jama to take the other chair. This time Jama didn’t hesitate. She was tired. All she wanted was to lie down and sleep. Even Ruth’s pallet had looked good to her.

“Last night I slept in my car,” Ruth said. “I showered at a campground with facilities. I’d have stayed in the car again tonight, but I couldn’t resist the temptation to stretch out. I spent nearly all the money I had just to get here, and the car is the one my husband and I had in storage when we left for Africa.” She sighed, as if that admission had taken great effort.

It also took Jama some effort not to show her astonishment. Why would Ruth be so desperate to leave her husband that she would place herself in this predicament?

But what surprised Jama the most was that Ruth had actually revealed so much. “Your personality sure changes after midnight,” Jama told her.

Ruth smiled again, but it was a sad smile. And she looked tired, too. “You and I are both off duty and out of uniform. And you caught me with my guard down. Now, your turn.”

Jama grimaced.

Ruth sat watching her. “Be glad you have a life to cry about. I’m in the process of rebuilding mine. And before you ask, don’t.”

Her words reminded Jama of Eric’s allusion to some tragedy in Ruth’s life.

Jama realized she’d been practicing Tyrell’s habit of distraction because he was the last thing she wanted to think about right now.

Ruth sat back in her chair with a sigh. “I’m a doctor, Jama. I’m good at keeping confidences. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but you know as well as I do that it does help to talk. Even to a stranger.”

“It’s funny, but when you aren’t snapping at me, you remind me of someone I once knew.”

“That wouldn’t be Amy, would it?”

Jama narrowed her eyes. “Who’s been talking?”

“Everybody in town, Jama.” Ruth leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I’ve pieced together quite a story from the things I’ve heard about you. It’s taken a few hours to sift through them, but I’ve finally managed to draw my own conclusions by watching you in action.”

“And that conclusion would be?”

“You’re loyal, you take bedside manner seriously, you do excellent suture repair, no matter what grade you got in sewing class in high school. And you have a tender heart.” Ruth grinned. “And you’re argumentative, speak your mind and have a chip on your shoulder.”

Jama thought it ironic that she had thought Ruth was the one with the chip. Maybe they both had one.

“Would you like me to tell you what I’ve heard?” Ruth asked.