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    If Only, I Had the Courage to Love Again
    If Only, I Had the Courage to Love Again
    If Only, I Had the Courage to Love Again
    Ebook393 pages6 hours

    If Only, I Had the Courage to Love Again

    By B.L Wilson

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    About this ebook

    Beth Evans, after a failed relationship, is looking for a date. She tries a forward approach with a woman she finds attractive and practically accosts her on the street. Beth babbles about nothing and everything in her efforts to impress the woman, while the object of her desire, Joan Riley, wants to escape from the crazy motor-mouth. Beth feels embarrassed that she bothered Joan and does not even join her friends in the bar they are hanging out at for the evening. She stays in the car and encounters Joan yet again, and again, the chance meeting does not go well.

    The story should end there, but it doesn’t. Fate or just plain bad luck throws the two women together again. An ambulance whisks Beth’s daughter Pamela, the victim of a hit and run accident, to Saint Sebastian’s ER unit. Dr. Joan Riley becomes her trauma surgeon. As Pamela’s doctor, Joan has the opportunity to peek into Beth Evans’ life. She likes what she sees, but she is too relationship-shy to do anything about it. If only she could overcome her hesitation, if only she had the courage to love again...

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherB.L Wilson
    Release dateNov 2, 2016
    ISBN9781370924172
    If Only, I Had the Courage to Love Again
    Author

    B.L Wilson

    B.L. has always been in love with books and the words in them. She never thought she could create something with the words she knew. When she read ‘To Kill A Mocking Bird,’ she realized everyday experiences could be written about in a powerful, memorable way. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with that knowledge so she kept on reading.Walter Mosley’s short stories about Easy Rawlins and his friends encouraged BL to start writing in earnest. She felt she had a story to tell...maybe several of them. She’d always kept a diary of some sort, scraps of paper, pocketsize, notepads, blank backs of agency forms, or in the margins of books. It was her habit to make these little notes to herself. She thought someday she’d make them into a book.She wrote a workplace memoir based on the people she met during her 20 years as a property manager of city-owned buildings. Writing the memoir, led her to consider writing books that were not job-related. Once again, she did...producing romance novels with African American lesbians as main characters. She wrote the novels because she couldn’t find stories that matched who she wanted to read about ...over forty, African American and female.

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      If Only, I Had the Courage to Love Again - B.L Wilson

      Chapter One…Woman of my dreams

      Sheila, stop the car, Beth remarked, excited. She watched the woman, whose shapely butt cheeks swayed as she and her two friends strolled together down Seventh Avenue and Tenth Street in the Village. She didn’t know what she was going to say to the woman, but she knew what she liked and she liked the woman’s appearance.

      Oh, Girl, quit playing yourself. You’re not going to talk to her, are you? Sheila replied. You know how shy you are, Beth. Pull your eyes back in your head. Let’s go to Nanny’s instead.

      Come on, Sheila. Please stop the car. We just passed the woman of my dreams. Let me out so I can go back there and meet her. Did you happen to notice that she has two friends with her? That’s one for you and one for Stacy.

      Hey, leave me out of this equation, Beth, Stacy called out from the backseat. I’m just looking. I’m not interested in buying yet.

      Beth sighed as the car pulled to a stop at the curb. Thanks, Sheila. Why is it this woman? Beth wondered, trotting back to speak to her. For one thing, she liked the way her ass jutted out in the back. It seemed the perfect size for a hand to reach around her waist to stroke it. She could imagine how sweet it would be to kiss that ass after she’d washed the woman in her bathtub. Her legs were solid and strong-looking too. They narrowed down to dainty ankles and feet. The woman’s flat waist was small compared to her hips and her arms were muscular but not too developed. She probably exercised regularly. She looked like someone who kept her body fit and cared how she looked.

      Beth had no idea what was going to come out of her mouth to impress the woman. Did it matter, as long as it wasn’t rude? She hustled to catch up with the woman and her two friends.

      Excuse me, Miss. Beth tapped the woman on the arm. Her milk chocolate skin was as soft as it looked but felt firm as well. It made Beth want to keep her hand right there, rubbing her elbow, but she didn’t. She dropped her hands to her sides and looked up.

      Yes? the woman said, turning to face her. Cool dark eyes stared at Beth.

      Beth sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The woman was even better looking up close, she thought. With her closely cropped hair, distinctive nose, and full pouty lips, Beth almost forgot why she was there as she stood, silently admiring her beauty.

      Yes? the woman repeated with a touch of impatience in her tone. Can I help you with something? She studied Beth with a puzzled expression.

      I hope you won’t think this a line, but my friends, Beth pointed to the Cadillac parked a half-block away, and I saw you and your friends. Her glance included the two women standing next to the well-built woman. We…couldn’t help but notice how fit you all seemed. We … er, I mean, I was wondering if you were a personal trainer. If you’re not one, maybe you know one you could recommend for us. We’re trying to lose weight and firm up. You seemed to have discovered the secret to keeping fit.

      The woman stared at Beth for a long time. She didn’t say anything until one of her friends elbowed her in the ribs.

      Christ, Joan Riley, answer the woman. She made the effort to come here to speak with you, so say something, damn it! her friend hissed softly.

      Yeah, Joanie, please talk to her. My feet hurt and we could get a ride in a nice car, her second friend pleaded to no avail.

      Joan Riley continued to stare at Beth Evans.

      Beth felt uncomfortable under her silent gaze. She wondered what the woman was thinking. Maybe she was crazy or something. Nah, an insane woman wouldn’t have two normal-looking women as sidekicks, would she? Humph, for all she knew, they could be her keepers! She swallowed hard and then ran a finger around a linen collar that felt as uncomfortable as the woman’s unblinking gaze.

      Beth held up her hands in surrender and backed away from the woman. Er … Miss … I’m sorry I bothered you. I don’t usually do things like this. I’ll just leave now. She almost stumbled on an uneven section of the sidewalk as she hurried to leave the scene of her worst social disaster to date. God, why did I do that? a voice in her head asked. What would make me think a stupid line like that would work on a woman everybody wanted? She noticed the reaction of several women on the street who turned their heads to follow the woman and her girlfriends’ progress down the block.

      Another woman walked up to talk with Joan Riley after Beth made her rapid exit. Beth noticed the woman when she turned around to take one last look at Joan Riley before walking back to Sheila’s car. It looked like that woman struck out too because Joan stopped walking to give the woman a withering look. Loud words flew back and forth between the two women. The woman stalked off with an angry stiffness to her shoulders. Beth wondered if there was more to the scene than she first thought. A good guess said the woman was a former lover or an ex-friend. Oh well. She’d add that to life’s little mysteries that she’d never find out. She was too embarrassed to speak, let alone return to ask her dream woman to explain what she’d just witnessed.

      Beth sighed. Who could blame anyone for admiring the woman she’d just tried to hit on? She was a real looker. Beth trudged back to the car, disgusted with her own cowardliness. Humph, the woman was dyke eye-candy with an attitude. She eyed her girlfriends in the Cadillac from the sidewalk and exhaled. She’d have to hear Sheila’s I told you all the way home. Stacy, on the other hand, wasn’t going to say anything. She’d just stare at her sympathetically, then squeeze her shoulder or pat a knee and tell her everything was going to be all right. She loved Shelia and Stacy dearly, but she hated admitting they were right. She felt stupid hitting on a complete stranger who never said a word in response. Still, if she had to act a fool, it was good to have friends like Stacy and Shelia around. Without them, she couldn’t have survived her break up with Wanda.

      She sighed loudly, thinking about her former lover. Wanda Cooke was a big, sensual vixen … maybe too sexy for her own good. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears from hitting the sidewalk. Damn it! she muttered. She’d vowed not think about her former lover another minute. How can I do that when I feel so raw? she murmured for the hundredth time. We lived together for seven years before Wanda decided she needed to live alone.

      She wished she could have the solitary life Wanda made for herself. Tonight, she’d seen Wanda and her latest partner sharing dinner at Ellen’s on Second Avenue. The place used to be one of their favorite restaurants. She recalled how she and Wanda would select a quiet corner table and eat by candlelight. After dinner, it was nice to stroll around the Village and window shop. That was what she and Wanda used to do when they were together.

      She sniffed and then wiped at her tears with the back of her hand as she drew closer to the car. Get it together, Beth, her mind scolded. So what if tonight was a series of things gone wrong. She and her girls could still catch a drink at Nanny’s before they called it a night. She climbed into the front seat of Sheila’s car.

      I don’t see anybody with you, so I guess you struck out, Sheila remarked, pointing out the obvious. She started the car and pulled smoothly into the late night traffic.

      I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Honey. Stacy patted her shoulder. If it’s meant to happen, it will.

      Beth shrugged off Stacy’s hand. I know, but it’s hard seeing everyone walking around the Village with their lovers. Here I am, alone again after seven years. She rubbed her temples as she felt the tears welling up in her eyes. Shit! I’m too old for this crap. She slumped down in the seat and stared out the window at more couples holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. Somebody, please tell me how it is, of all the lesbians in this city, I find the one who doesn’t want a life partner? Nobody can be as unlucky as I am. I found a desirable woman and I lived with her for years, thinking everything was fine, only to discover I’m somehow constricting her.

      Shelia caught Stacy’s eye in the rearview mirror and shook her head slightly, then mouthed, advising her, Don’t answer that.

      Beth sighed. She was so tired of crying over long departed lovers and the sad state of her non-existent love life. She wiped her tears and blew her nose. I couldn’t even make my marriage to Kevin Sr. work.

      Sheila stared at her friend in amazement. Don’t you dare go there tonight! If I ever met that son of bitch, I’d kill him for what he did to you, Beth. You’re the one who made that marriage work, not him. How you stayed with that abusive creep as long as you did is beyond me. I’m just glad you left him before he killed you.

      She sighed. As for Wanda Cooke, it’s not your fault she never appreciated you. Wanda wanted what she wanted when she wanted it. Damn you or anyone else that stood in her way. As for that cheating little heifer Sabrina, the eleven months you spent with her isn’t even worth discussing. She spent most of your sacred union sleeping with everything with dick or pussy in the city. I’m just glad she didn’t infect you with some deadly disease behind the shit she was doing.

      Stacy sighed sympathetically from the backseat. Why don’t we go to Crazy Nanny’s and see what’s doing?

      Beth exhaled quietly. I don’t know if I’m ready for it tonight. I feel like just going home to lick my wounds.

      "Hey? Don’t you know that’s when you should go drinking and dancing. Sheila turned to eye her friend. Come on; one drink and one dance at Nanny’s, then we’ll go home."

      Beth wrinkled her nose. I’ll tell you what. You two go in. I’ll just wait in the car. That way, you don’t have to find parking.

      Aw, come in with us, Beth, Stacy invited. We can just sit at the bar and enjoy the music or go upstairs to watch the dancers, she added, remembering how shy Beth was about dancing in public. It amazed her that Beth found it so difficult to relax enough to dance. She thought Beth was a good dancer ever since she’d discovered her moving to the rhythm of a sad blues tune when she thought nobody was watching. If Beth wasn’t so shy, she would have joined her in the dance. Instead, she simply watched Beth swaying to the tune and making up the dance steps as she moved. She couldn’t help but wonder if Beth was as creative in bed making love as she was at inventing steps on the dance floor.

      Stacy sighed. She didn’t want to find out if her theory was true. She decided a long time ago that Sheila and Beth were off limits as bed partners. She needed good friends more than she needed good lovers. In her experience, lovers came and lovers left, but good friends stayed around forever. Friends were the ones that helped you through the bewildering maze called love and then kept you laughing when it didn’t work out.

      Stacy squeezed Beth’s shoulder after she climbed out of the backseat. We won’t be long, Beth. If you want to join us, put a couple of quarters in the meter and come inside.

      Beth managed a slight smile. I know, Stacy, thanks. You and Sheila have fun. She yawned. I’m tired. Maybe I’ll just take a nap in the car. She climbed up front to the passenger seat, then closed the driver side window but left the passenger window open. She locked the doors, stuffed the keys in her pocket, and closed her eyes. She was asleep for nearly twenty minutes when she felt something tickling her cheek. She frowned in her sleep and moved away. Something crawled on her nose and then scrambled down her neck. She wrinkled her forehead without opening her eyes. She swatted her neck, but the bug crept back.

      Damn it! Beth opened her eyes as she smacked her neck again. She found that she was staring into twinkling brown eyes. The eyes belonged to the same woman who’d made her feel so foolish several hours ago. She was smiling at her.

      Joan played with the fluffy feather in her hand. I couldn’t resist. She looked down at the feather. They were giving away the feathers at Nanny’s. I always wanted to tickle someone awake with one of these things. You gave me the opportunity to live out one of my fantasies.

      Beth sat up and rubbed her eyes with her palms. I’m dreaming this, right? You’re in my dream, right? she muttered more to herself than the woman kneeling next to the passenger’s door of Sheila’s car. Somebody pinch me. I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone.

      Joan pinched Beth hard on the arm and then stood up to stare at her.

      Ouch! Beth yelped, then rubbed her arm, frowning. Shit, that hurt!

      Well, you’re the one who suggested that I pinch you.

      Do you always do what somebody tells you to do? Beth asked, rubbing her sore arm.

      Joan stared at Beth and then shrugged. It depends.

      Beth continued to rub her arm. On what?

      Huh? Joan frowned as she watched the woman rub her arm. She hoped she hadn’t hurt her. The woman looked cute when she was sleeping. She always wanted to use a feather to tickle somebody awake. It sounded sexy when she read about using one to bring a woman to a climax by rubbing her nipples and belly with it. What made her think this woman would like it? She leaned into the car slightly. She tugged Beth’s hand away from her arm. Let me look at the damage I caused. Joan noted the reddish tinge to the area and probed it gently. I’m so sorry. She sighed. Sometimes, I don’t know my own strength. I’ll go get some ice to put on it if you’ll wait. Dark eyes stared into Beth’s, asking for her approval.

      Beth shrugged. I’ll wait here on one condition.

      Which is?

      Tell me your name.

      Joan sighed. I guess I owe you that much.

      Beth frowned at her hesitancy. I feel like I owe you an apology for earlier. She hastily cleared her throat. I’m sorry. I’m not usually…so…er…

      Aggressive. Joan supplied the word for her, then frowned at her choice of words. That’s too strong a word. I meant ‘determined.’ I’m sorry if I didn’t respond … appropriately. I have a lot on my mind tonight. An angry faraway look flickered across her face for a moment.

      How did you find me?

      Joan sighed and then rubbed her temples. What? Sorry, my mind is out of it tonight.

      Would you like to sit down? Beth clicked the remote to unlock the door and scooted over next to the driver’s seat to make room for her.

      Joan sat down butt first, facing away from Beth with her feet dangling outside the car. She stared into the night. She grew quiet as she watched the Village tourists walk by the car. Several couples passed, holding hands as they looked into each other’s eyes.

      I used to be like them, Beth said quietly, watching two men walk by holding hands. They stopped when they came to a dark corner. One man pulled the other into a sensual embrace that ended in a kiss and subtle fondling. They were oblivious to anything but themselves. She sighed. We had no worries, except whether we were going to spend the weekend in bed or out shopping. She rubbed her arm as she watched the two men strolling down the block. But that was eons ago. Now, who the hell knows?

      I know the feeling, Joan remarked sympathetically. I’ve been there. She sighed softly and slipped off the seat. I’ll get some ice for your arm.

      Beth watched the woman stride inside the dance bar. She enjoyed watching her body move and wondered if she was a trainer or weight lifter. The woman probably had a job that kept her physically fit. She glanced at her arm. It was starting to hurt a little. She was hoping that it wouldn’t turn purple. She hated it when bruises left marks on her body. It reminded her of her ex-husband’s beatings. Sheila was right about the piece of shit with a big dick. She looked at her arm again. She couldn’t help but bruise with her high-yeller color, to quote her grandmother’s description of her complexion. She had to agree. She was the redbone one in the family.

      Funny, she wasn’t attracted to women with her own complexion. She loved milk chocolate or Swiss chocolate complexions on her women. That old saying the darker the berry, the sweeter the juice popped into her head. Not that she minded her own coloring, but she wished she were at least dark maple—about the color of a Three Musketeers candy bar on the outside would be nice, rather than the color of the insides of an overripe acorn squash.

      Beth watched the woman purposefully stride back to her. She was a good walker…with a nice easy stride as though she was comfortable in her own skin. That was nice to see in a woman. Most men were born with that body language unless they were severely overweight or disabled. Body confidence seemed natural to them. She noticed it with her own son, Kevin Jr. It gave men a leg up in the world.

      Her daughter, Pammy, on the other hand, had to fight for everything she got. That was a shame because she was a talented artist. She sighed as she thought about her two children. They were both in college. Paying their expenses left her nearly broke, but she wanted them to have a good start in life. College was one way to do that. She felt strong fingers probing her bicep near the sore spot and flinched. She noticed the woman’s face frowning up.

      I asked you if that hurt, Beth. Joan looked concerned and slightly embarrassed as she held Beth’s arm.

      Like you, my mind was on other things. Beth watched her put ice cubes in a Ziploc bag and the press it against her arm. She jerked away from the icy feel. Jesus, that’s cold!

      I’m sorry. Joan scowled, then sighed. That makes three times that I’ve upset you tonight. I seem to be making a mess of this. Let me roll your sleeve down and we’ll put the ice pack on top of your sleeve.

      Beth watched strong hands put the homemade icepack on the seat and then roll down her sleeve. In the process, the woman’s knuckle accidentally brushed her breast. She chose to ignore the brief contact, but her body didn’t. She held in a gasp at the sudden contact, but her nipple hardened anyway.

      Meanwhile, Joan’s eyes widened and her hand stopped pushing the sleeve down Beth’s arm. If it had been Roberta, she would have played with the semi-hard nipple until it hardened, then she’d suck on it until it gave her partner a climax. She tried not to stare at Beth’s breasts but found her eyes drawn to them. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… Her voice faded and she quickly removed her hand from Beth’s arm. Maybe you’d better finish this. She handed Beth the ice pack and scooted out the door.

      Hey! You didn’t tell me your name, Beth called out, hoping to stop the woman.

      Joan stopped her hasty retreat to turn around. Why would you want to know me? I’m responsible for causing you problems at least three times tonight. She studied Beth’s face. Keep the ice pack on the area. It should keep the swelling down. You probably won’t bruise. She quickly strode back into Crazy Nanny’s before Beth could climb out of the car to stop her.

      Sheila and Stacy were sitting at the crowded bar when they spotted Joan Riley marching through the door. She made quick work of the distance between the door and the bar’s counter, striding over to join her friends and Beth’s friends.

      Harriet looked at Stacy, then Sheila, and finally Yolanda. Joanie doesn’t look happy. I thought you said your friend had the hots for Joanie.

      Sheila shrugged. Beth did. I mean, she does. You know how that goes. You win some and you lose some others.

      Stacy nodded before adding, Our friend is going through a rough time. She broke up with her lover.

      Haven’t we all been there? Harriet said, taking another sip of beer. How long were they going together?

      Sheila frowned, then looked at Stacy to confirm her answer. Sabrina’s been gone nearly a year, I think.

      Hmm, that’s too bad. What broke them up?

      Sheila shrugged. She didn’t like talking about her friends with someone she’d just met, even if that somebody was an attractive woman named Harri with a good-looking girlfriend named Yolanda. You know, the usual stuff that divides couples.

      Joan tapped Harriet on the shoulder. I hate to break up this party, but I’m going back to the hospital. She sighed as she stared in the direction of the door, then rubbed her hands together. I, ah, could you excuse us a minute, Sheila? She cleared her throat and leaned in to whisper to Harriet. She described what happened in the car with Beth.

      Harriet frowned, then asked quietly, Is she all right?

      Joan nodded. Yeah, I put ice on it.

      Are you sure she’s all right, Joan?

      Harriet watched Joan sigh heavily.

      Yes, Mother, she’s fine. Can I go? Joan glanced at her watch. My shift starts in five hours. I’m going to the staff lounge to take a nap.

      See you in a couple hours.

      Okay. Joan nodded, took one last look at her friends, and headed for the front door. She strode out of the bar. She made sure to cross the street before she passed the car with her latest victim inside. Then she walked the few blocks to Saint Sebastian’s Hospital.

      Chapter Two…Picking up the pieces after the accident

      Dr. Joan Riley yawned and stretched as she walked into the humid night air. Another miserable Saturday night in the Village down the drain, she thought, clipping her hospital ID onto her shirt. She nodded to the police officer as she walked through the lobby and took the elevator to the second floor doctors’ lounge. She scanned the room as she walked to the rear. Good, the place was empty. She spotted several folding cots and found one already set up. She changed the sheets, found a disposable foam pillow, and lay down to rest.

      Why can’t I get comfortable? Joan asked for the hundredth time as she punched her pillow and wiggled around on the narrow bed. She finally drifted off to sleep. She dreamed about a quiet cottage with a creek behind it. A wooden bridge connected one side of the wooded area behind the house to the grassy lawn and crossed the creek. She drove up to the house and parked in the front driveway. A woman came out of the front door and ran to greet her. She grinned as the woman came closer and opened her arms. She walked into the woman’s arms and greeted her with a torrid kiss. The kiss left them breathless. They went inside the house arm in arm.

      Once they were inside the cottage, a baby cried. The woman rushed over to a crib to pick up the baby. She leaned over the woman’s shoulder to make faces at the baby. The baby giggled, then gurgled at her. She smiled back at the baby. The woman put the baby back in its crib and took her hand to guide her into their bedroom.

      The vibration of her beeper interrupted her dream. Damn it! Joan muttered, sighing. It was a nice dream, but she always seemed to wake up as the woman pulled her into the bedroom. She swung a leg over the hospital’s cot and held her head in her hands. She was tired, but duty called. Being the senior trauma surgeon on call could be a bitch sometimes.

      She called the ER to find out which patient needed her. The ER resident on call told her the patient was a student at NYU. She was the victim of a hit and run. She presented with possible head trauma, a broken collarbone, several broken ribs, and a compound fracture of the right leg. According to the emergency medical technicians, witnesses at the scene said the driver barreled through a red light as the victim crossed the street. The victim bounced several feet into the air and landed on her back. To make matters worse, the victim was pregnant. She remained conscious long enough to beg the technicians to save her baby.

      Okay, I’ll be right there.

      Joan slipped into a lab coat and hustled down the stairs to see her first patient of the night. It was a good thing that she hadn’t taken a drink at Nanny’s. She glanced at her new patient’s chart quickly. What’s her BP, Nurse?

      The nurse checked the pulse at her neck. It was strong. 100 over 71 and dropping, Dr. Riley.

      What’s her name? Joan asked, leaning over the bed to shine a light in her patient’s eyes. Her pupils weren’t reacting to the light as quickly as they should. Both eyes were reacting together. That was a good sign as far as head trauma was concerned. She probed the patient’s skull where it was bleeding. Nothing felt unusual there either. That was another good sign. She’d need x-rays to be sure there were no fractures. She cleaned up the blood to see the patient’s skull abrasions clearer. It looked like a series of minor cuts with some bruising—lightweight stuff.

      It’s Pamela Evans, Doctor.

      Joan walked around the monitoring equipment to face her new patient. Pamela, can you hear me? Pamela’s eyes fluttered open, then closed. I’m Dr. Riley. I’m here to help you. Can you tell me where it hurts?

      Pamela groaned. My head hurts. It hurts to breathe.

      Joan nodded. The patient responded to my voice. That was another good sign when diagnosing head trauma. Pamela, I want you to squeeze my hand as hard as you can.

      Pamela squeezed the hand offered to her.

      Good, Pamela. Now squeeze with your other hand.

      Pamela obeyed but couldn’t press hard without frowning. She felt sharp pain in her right wrist. Ooo, I can’t, Dr. Riley. It hurts too much.

      Nurse, order a CT scan of her head. A probe of her collarbone elicited a gasp. I’m sorry for hurting you, Ms. Evans. When’s your baby due? Joan asked gently to take her patient’s mind away from her pain as she listened to the baby’s heartbeat. It was as strong as the mother’s heartbeat. It was another good sign for the young woman.

      She’s due in a month, Pamela said.

      Joan smiled at the young woman. So you already know it’s going to be a girl.

      Yes, Pamela replied, sounding tired. We have a name already picked out. We want to call her Julia Elizabeth.

      Doctor, do you still want to order the CT scan? the nurse asked quietly.

      Yes, Nurse, I do. Let’s go with the CT scan and the x-rays. I need to see what’s going on inside before we get started. Tell radiology that she’s eight months pregnant. I want her baby protected as much as possible. I need x-rays of her chest, neck, right wrist, and leg. I need them stat. Get Orthopedics down here and OB/GYN too.

      The nurse nodded and made notes on her chart, then sent another nurse to get started on Joan’s requests. She waited until the doctor finished her patient’s examination.

      How are you doing, Pamela? Joan asked as she stared at her.

      Scared, Doctor, I’m scared. Pamela opened her eyes and stared into Joan’s eyes. Am I going to die?

      Joan returned her glance. Not with me on the case. I’m your primary physician for tonight. When she examined Pamela’s legs, she didn’t respond to pressure placed on the broken leg or the bottom of her feet. Her spinal column is probably injured, Joan thought. If she had to guess, she’d say Pamela’s lumbar discs were damaged somewhere between L4 and L5. That worried her, but she hid her concern.

      Let’s try to get an MRI of her lumbar spine if we have time. If not, the CT will have to do.

      Another ER nurse left to page the various units and contact the radiology department.

      Nurse, who was with her in the ambulance?

      She came in alone, Doctor.

      Has the baby’s father been notified?

      We’re trying to find him and her parents.

      Good. Joan stood over her patient, watching her breathe quietly. She checked her patient’s vitals again. They were a little out of normal range, but she was doing amazingly well, considering her condition.

      Joan’s pager went off. It was the nurses’ station. Pamela, I’ll be back in a minute. She strode to the nursing station. Did someone beep me?

      The supervising nurse nodded, then pointed to the anxious young man pacing in the lobby. He says he’s the patient’s brother, Dr. Riley. He wants to speak with you about his sister.

      Joan watched the tall, sturdy-looking young man walk back and forth for a few seconds and sighed. She hated these conferences with patients’ relatives. She strode over and held out her hand. I’m Dr. Riley.

      I’m Kevin Evans. Pam is my sister.

      Kevin Evans seemed polite, Joan thought, shaking hands with him. Your sister and her baby are doing well, considering what happened to her tonight.

      Kevin frowned at Joan. What baby, Doctor? I didn’t know my sister was pregnant. He stuck his hands in his pockets and bounced on his heels. Christ, my mother’s going to kill her when she finds out. He sighed. What happened? Admitting said I should ask you about her condition.

      Joan stared into wide brown eyes set in a medium brown-skinned face. Is your mother coming to see Pamela?

      Kevin nodded solemnly. Yeah, I just got off the phone with her.

      Maybe we should wait until she gets here before we talk.

      Kevin shook his head, then stared at his feet. I don’t think so, Dr. Riley. We don’t get along so well. He sighed. I’m not happy with my mother’s lifestyle. I think she should … He stared at Joan, suddenly aware he was telling family business to a stranger, but he couldn’t seem to shut up. "Are you married,

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