Jacqueline Diamond - The Police Chief's Lady

“Are the guys gorgeous?” Yvonne sighed at the prospect.

“Gorgeous and full of themselves,” Jenni replied.

“You mean they expect sex on the first date?”

“I mean they expect sex before they decide whether there’s going to be a first date.”

The nurse made a face. “That almost makes Downhome sound appealing.”

The fourth member of the clinic staff was a technician, a fellow with the confusing name of Lee Li, who commuted from Mill Valley twice a week to handle sonograms, X rays and routine lab work. Anything complicated had to be sent out by courier, and anyone needing advanced diagnostic treatment such as an MRI had to travel to another town. For major emergencies, Jenni learned, she could call on Vanderbilt University Medical Center’s LifeFlight helicopter to transport the victim to Nashville.

To be so isolated after working in a metropolitan area where medical centers sprouted on every corner felt strange. In L.A., the question had been not where to find a cancer specialist or a neonatal intensive care unit, but which one to use.

Jenni hoped she wouldn’t have to deal with many such cases. No town was immune to tragedy, though.

After lunch on Friday, the influx of patients dwindled. Jenni felt tempted to slip out early to search for an apartment, but her sense of responsibility kept her around.

She enjoyed staying with Karen. However, the house was noisy, since Barry had a stream of newspaper subscribers and advertisers ringing the doorbell and the phone in the early mornings and evenings. Most could have contacted him during work hours, he grumbled. Still, he couldn’t afford to turn away business.

So far, most of the rentals Jenni had found were houses too large for her needs or rooms where she would have to share a kitchen and bathroom with strangers. Other than that, she’d visited one duplex apartment next to another occupied by a large family who screamed at one another while the TV blared.

There had to be something better.

“Dr. Vine?” Patsy, the receptionist, appeared in the doorway to Jenni’s office, where she’d retreated to write up the day’s reports. “Mrs. Forrest just brought Nick in. He scraped his shin and he’s diabetic, so she wanted you to check him out. They’re in examining room two.”

The young woman seemed to assume that Jenni would recognize the names. And of course she did. Nick must be Ethan’s son and Mrs. Forrest, she assumed, was the ex-wife.

Unexpectedly, her throat clogged. What was this woman like who’d managed to tame the glowering beast? And why, Jenni wondered, did she feel a curious reluctance to meet her?

“Is Yvonne with them?” she asked. The nurse should be taking the boy’s vital signs.

“She just finished. She’s in the nurses’ lounge, playing with her baby.” Seeing her perplexed expression, Patsy explained. “Usually, Yvonne’s cousin babysits, but Mrs. Forrest helps out sometimes. Today she brought Bethany with her.”

“I see.” In Downhome, everyone seemed to be connected to everyone else, Jenni reflected as she rose. It was a little disconcerting, but a welcome change from the lack of connections she’d experienced during her own fractured childhood.

Outside the examining room, she read the clipboard containing the boy’s medical history. Now five years old, he’d been diagnosed with type 1 diabetes at age three. A year later, he’d been fitted with a pump to provide the insulin his pancreas couldn’t make.

Like most children, he had some problems complying with the strict diet and the frequent finger pricks to make sure his blood-sugar level held steady. However, the chart indicated he was generally healthy.

Still, the injury concerned Jenni. Due to reduced circulation, diabetics were vulnerable to infections, particularly in their lower extremities.

Taking a deep breath, she tapped on the door, then went in.

Two earnest faces tilted toward hers. On the examining table, a little boy with huge dark eyes and chestnut hair regarded her anxiously. From his slightly dirty shorts and the smudge on his nose, she could tell he’d been playing outdoors.

In the chair beside him sat a woman of around sixty. Her worried air softened as she smiled at Jenni. From the stylishly cut hair to the trim pantsuit, she gave the impression of a retired professional. A scan of Yvonne’s notes revealed that the woman’s first name was Annette.

This had to be Ethan’s mother, not his ex, Jenni realized with an odd sense of relief. At the same time, she wondered why the grandmother, instead of Nick’s mother, cared for the boy.

“Mrs. Forrest? I’m Dr. Vine.” Jenni shook hands with her. Although she wanted to get to know the woman, she wished to establish a rapport immediately with the patient, so she turned to him. “It’s nice to meet you, Nick.”

“Are you going to stick me with a needle?” the boy asked.

“I don’t plan to.” She glanced at his chart again. “I see you’ve had a tetanus shot, so you won’t need one of those. Can you show me where you hurt yourself?”

Biting his lip, he stuck out his leg. The scrape, midway between knee and ankle, was about two inches long, wide but shallow.

“I cleaned it right away and applied an antiseptic,” Mrs. Forrest explained. “It doesn’t seem like a big deal, but Dr. Luther always insisted I bring him in for antibiotics if he got hurt.” By Dr. Luther she must mean Luther Allen, Jenni thought. Mrs. Forrest had probably referred to him this way to distinguish him from his wife. He’d been the pediatrician and she the family doctor.

“I don’t see any signs of infection,” Jenni was saying when the door opened.

With his muscular frame and restless energy, Ethan Forrest dominated the room even before entering it. Scarcely nodding to the two adults, he rushed to Nick’s side. “Are you okay, little guy?”

“I have a boo-boo, Daddy.” The boy wiggled his leg.

With a grim shake of the head, Ethan glanced at Jenni. There was no sign of lightheartedness about him now. “Well?”

She hoped he wasn’t going to overreact to a minor childhood mishap. In her experience, take-charge fathers who hated losing control often demanded unnecessary treatments. Still, she knew his response stemmed from love. “I was just beginning my examination.”

Reluctantly, Ethan stepped back. “Go ahead.”

Jenni washed her hands at the sink, then bent over the boy. “Tell me how it happened,” she said as she examined the wound more closely.

“I was riding my bike on the sidewalk.”

“In shorts?” Ethan demanded of his mother.

“I didn’t realize he’d gone outside,” she answered without sounding defensive. “Ethan, he’s not made of eggshells.”

“He got hurt, didn’t he?” The chief waved one hand apologetically. “I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just that when they gave me your message, I thought the injury might be serious.”

“I understand,” she replied.

Jenni asked more questions, establishing that the sidewalk recently had been washed and that Mrs. Forrest hadn’t found any dirt or bike oil in the wound. “It’s not necessarily bad that he was wearing shorts,” she said. “Fabric can harbor bacteria, and if it gets pushed into a cut, it’s bad news. Puncture wounds through sneakers are particularly nasty. You wouldn’t believe what grows in some people’s shoes.” For Nick’s sake, she added, “It makes them stink, too. Peeuw.”

He wrinkled his nose and grinned. The sweetness in his face touched her.

Jenni cleaned the wound again. Normally, the nurse would have done this. However, Jenni saw no reason to interrupt Yvonne’s time with her baby, and besides, she wanted to make it clear she took a personal interest in her patients.