When The Right One Comes Along

Jessica noticed Marcia looking around fretfully, and she knew the nurse was searching for another trauma doc who could attend to the little girl so she wouldn’t have to.

Jessica sighed. Hadn’t she vowed earlier not to let herself be protected? What kind of trauma surgeon was she if she couldn’t deal with any patient that came her way? She could feel the anxiety build inside her—tempting her to let Marcia find another doctor.

No, she wouldn’t give in.

“Marcia,” she called. “I’m done here. I can take her.”

She could see the reluctance in Marcia’s eyes as she approached with the softly crying child in her arms. “Are you sure?” The worry was evident in her voice, too.

Jessica almost snapped that of course she was sure. Knowing full well the anger was directed at herself and not her colleague and friend, she swallowed the harsh words. She hadn’t realized she was wound so tight. She understood that Marcia was trying to help...and she couldn’t deny that it wasn’t without good reason. “Yes, I’m sure,” she responded with a calm she didn’t feel. “But thank you for trying to look out for me.” She forced a cheerier tone into her voice as she reached for the young girl. “Who do we have here?”

Marcia helped Jessica position the girl on the exam table. “Her name is Kayla. She said it’s Kayla Hernandez,” Marcia supplied when the child remained silent, staring at Jessica with large somber eyes brimming with tears. “She said she can’t find her mother, Marina Hernandez,” she added in a whisper.

Jessica hoped the child’s mother was all right. She smoothed the matted hair back from Kayla’s forehead and did another quick perusal, still not seeing any discernible injury. “How old are you, Kayla?”

“I’m five,” the girl said, holding up her hand with all fingers and thumb spread. Then her lip trembled, and her eyes filled with more tears. “Where’s my mommy?”

Jessica gave her a tissue and she blew her nose, while Jessica cast a questioning glance at Marcia. The nurse indicated with a slight shake of her head that she had no knowledge of the woman’s whereabouts.

“I’m certain people are looking for your mother, but for now I’m going to listen to your heart and check your temperature, okay?”

She could handle this, Jessica told herself. After all, the little girl appeared fine, and she appealed to the powers that be that she wouldn’t find any sign of internal injuries.

* * *

THE I-BEAM HURTLED toward Cal. His trajectory, swinging from the hoist rope as he was, would put him directly in the path of that beam. He caught an interior column with his right foot just enough to shove back and marginally away from the beam as it crashed by him.

A searing pain ripped through his right thigh, so intense he couldn’t stifle a yell. He glanced down. The jeans he’d been wearing when he was called in were torn open and a deep, angry gouge welled with blood. He pressed a hand to his thigh in an attempt to ease the pain and control the flow of blood, but neither seemed to subside. Balancing unsteadily on the hoisting harness and trying not to jar his injured leg, he yanked off his T-shirt. He used it as a tourniquet for his leg. When he tightened it, the pain tore through him again.

The rumbling gradually subsided, and the building around him groaned as it settled. Cal held his breath, praying there’d be no further collapses. When it seemed the structure had stabilized, he gave the guywire a couple of tugs, hoping the firefighter was still up top and uninjured—and the hoisting mechanism was operational. When nothing happened, he tugged again.

After interminable minutes, he reached for his radio. If Adam had been hurt, he’d have to come clean with Command about what he’d done. Williams would be displeased but they’d send someone to get him out. There was no way he could climb up with his injured leg.

His movement caused the harness to tilt and he reflexively used his legs to balance himself. The pain that shot through him caused his body to jerk. He grabbed for the rope to keep from falling backward, and the radio went spiraling down to shatter on the ground.

Cal cursed himself as he waited for the agony to subside, and tried to assess his options. He couldn’t jump down. He was over two stories up, and even with two good legs it would’ve been dangerous. With his right leg in such bad shape, he’d be breaking bones and probably his neck. He couldn’t scale the rope, and there was nothing around him he could swing to, to help him climb up or down.

Without his radio, he was stuck with no way to communicate to the outside world.

Still, he’d have to try to pull himself up the rope somehow. There was no viable alternative. He had a strong upper body—thanks to rigorous workouts to stay in shape, a requirement for his job—but it was a long way up. He tested his strength by reaching up and pulling on the rope. If he got into the elevator shaft, which wasn’t that far above him, he might be able to...

As he suddenly dropped three feet, he held on tight with both hands.

Twirling again from the force of the drop, he didn’t know what to make of it. He was terrified to move. If his testing of the rope had caused the plunge, he didn’t want to chance it again. He was still more than twenty feet above the ground. As he’d already concluded, it was unlikely he’d survive a twenty-foot drop.

When he felt the rope give again, he held on, closed his eyes and thought of Haley, certain he was about to fall to his death.

CHAPTER FOUR

CAL’S EYES FLEW open when he felt himself rising, slowly but steadily.

Holding the hoisting rope with his right hand, he used his left to keep himself from careening into protruding obstructions as he ascended through the elevator shaft. Soon he could see the night sky above and he was clearing the top of the shaft.

Adam was reaching for him. “Sorry, man. The aftershock caused a piece of siding to get stuck in the flywheel. I had to lower you manually and clear it before I could hoist you...” His rapid-fire speech halted as he steadied the harness and helped Cal balance on the roof. “What happened to your leg?”

“An I-beam.” Cal looked around, saw Scout running toward him, unharmed. With a hand signal, he got him to drop down and hold his position. The last thing he needed right now was an enthusiastic greeting from his dog. He looked at his thigh, too, as he carefully put most of his weight on his left leg. “I was able to get out of its way, or mostly. Otherwise, I’d be even more of a mess.” Taking in the rusty marks on his blood-soaked jeans, he added, “It must’ve been a piece of rebar sticking out that sliced through me. How bad was the aftershock?”

“It could’ve been a lot worse, but it might not be the last. They’ve confirmed that the quake was a 7.6. No wonder we’ve had so much damage. Well, let’s get you down and checked out.” Adam threw his arm around Cal, and Scout followed at Cal’s side.

“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.

Jessica turned to the tray behind her for a pair of scissors. “Kayla’s mother died in the quake, didn’t she?” She turned back in time and knew the answer before he vocalized it. She saw the sorrow flash across his face, cloud his eyes. Jessica met a lot of cops as a trauma unit doctor and while taking shifts in the emergency room. She knew it was a hard job and they saw unimaginable horrors, and yet she worried most about the ones who seemed to have become hardened against it. This one didn’t look like a rookie, but he wasn’t calloused, either.

“And the father?” she asked as she removed the makeshift tourniquet around his thigh and began to cut away the soiled denim. She tried to sound casual, all the while berating herself. Here she was, still worried about Kayla, and she knew too well what that could lead to.

Cal shrugged. “No idea.”

“Okay.” Jessica tried to force Kayla out of her mind. The little girl would probably be gone by the time she got to the hospital and she’d never see her again. That was the way she wanted it. “How did this happen?” She repeated her earlier question as she continued to cut away the jeans, noting the dirt and rust stains on the denim. “Exactly?”

Cal gave her a short account.

Jessica paused, glanced at the beautiful German shepherd sitting quietly next to the table, completely focused, not missing a thing. She found herself reassessing her opinion of the cop. “You went back into the building following the aftershock to get your dog?”

Cal leaned over to drop a hand possessively on Scout’s head. “I needed to ascertain Kayla’s mother’s condition, too, but yeah. Scout’s my partner. I couldn’t leave him. By the way, do you have any water I can give him?”

“Sure.” Jess considered the tough exterior of the cop as she poured some water into a plastic container. He came across as harsh and surly, but he clearly cared about kids and dogs.

She’d worked with enough cops to know that police dogs were considered a tool by the department, and she’d never understood how their handlers could spend so much time with their dogs and think of them that way. Obviously this cop didn’t. There had to be a soft center under that hard shell.

She expected she’d have done the same thing. Gone after the dog, if he was hers. But then again, she tended to lead with her heart. That had been her downfall as a pediatric surgeon, and likely would’ve made her a lousy cop, too.

With the full shift she’d put in at the hospital before she was called out to the field, she was worn out. It was hardly surprising that her mind kept wandering; still, she needed to focus.

She had to clean the wound and apply a temporary dressing for pressure before she sent the cop off to the hospital. He’d probably gotten dirt and rust deep in the wound, and that concerned her. She’d clean it the best she could, but he’d have to be looked at. They were out of local anesthetic in the field because they’d treated so many people. As nasty as the wound was, she had to clean it. She knew it would hurt, but she couldn’t wait until fresh supplies arrived.

“How’d you break your nose?” she asked, trying to distract him as she peeled back more of the denim that was stuck to his leg.

“It happened when I was a kid,” he responded tersely.

“How?” she persisted.

“I was teaching my brother karate.”

“Yeah?” She wanted to keep him talking.

“I was showing him how to split a board. Frankly, he sucked at it. Drew was always a geek.” She detected the smile in his voice, but the affection, too. “I was holding the board for him when our mother called us for lunch.” He chuckled. “I lowered my arms. Drew took his shot. For once his aim was right on, and he connected with my nose, where the board would have been.”

When she glanced up at him, he was grinning. There wasn’t any resentment, which surprised her. The hard, angular lines of his face were transformed by the appealing, almost boyish smile. She was tempted to shake her head. She must really be exhausted if she was thinking how attractive one of her patients was. “You’re kidding?”

“No. It’s true.”

Jess raised an eyebrow, but went back to her task. “This is going to hurt,” she cautioned. “There’s not much I can do about it. We’re out of anesthetic.” She looked up again. His smile had faded, and he nodded. He knew what was coming and seemed ready for it.

Even so, as soon as she started to clean the wound with the iodine-based cleanser, he threw his head back and groaned loudly.

At Cal’s obvious agony, the big dog sprang up and let out a throaty, menacing growl directed at her. It all happened so fast. Cal was still absorbed by the pain and hadn’t noticed, but Jess was well aware that most police dogs were trained to protect their handlers. That was obviously what the shepherd was intent on doing. If she showed fear or appeared to be a threat, she suspected the dog would attack her. She only had an instant to consider. She took a step toward the dog, drawing her shoulders back. The dog bristled, growled and stood his ground but didn’t advance.

Calm, assertive, she reminded herself. “Sit,” she ordered in a no-nonsense voice, using her hand to reinforce the command. The dog glanced over at Cal, who was still preoccupied with his pain. The dog cocked his head and hesitated, but Jessica didn’t back down. He made an oddly human huffing sound. Still alert, still on guard, he nonetheless obeyed her command and plopped down. His eyes remained watchful and trained on Jess.

Jessica exhaled. The dog must not have perceived her as an imminent threat to the cop, or he wouldn’t have listened to her. Still, she was relieved that she hadn’t been attacked by him in the process. He was a beautiful dog, but large and she had no doubt those shiny white teeth could mean business if he was provoked.

Turning her attention back to Cal, she saw astonishment on his face, and something else. Could it be respect from the cantankerous cop?

He eyed his dog. The dog angled his head and waited. “Down,” he ordered, then looked back at Jessica. “I can’t believe he responded to you. How did you do that?”

She couldn’t resist the small smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. “He’s your dog. You tell me.”

The dog was lying down with his head between his outstretched paws, shifting his gaze back and forth between the two of them. “Obviously he didn’t think you intended to hurt me,” he murmured.

“I’d appreciate it if you could assure him of that. I’m going to continue to clean your wound, and I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

“Scout, stay. Friend,” he added.

“Now can we get back to this, if... Scout, is it?”

He nodded.

“If Scout doesn’t object?”

Jessica worked quickly and efficiently to clean the wound and apply a temporary dressing. She tried not to be distracted by the large dog. She could see from her peripheral vision that he was watching her every move. She’d shown him who was alpha, but he was the cop’s dog, and based on his earlier reaction, she supposed he’d protect his handler if he thought she was hurting him. She was glad the cop was taking her ministrations stoically, and was thankful he handled the pain as well as could be expected. She didn’t want to test her mettle against his dog again. She knew he must have been in excruciating pain while she cleaned the wound, but after the initial outcry, the only sounds he made were deep hissing breaths during the worst of it. She didn’t take the time to look up at him, but she could see his white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table.