Family Practice. Judy Duarte

just two houses away.”

      Kara turned to Lizzie, who sat in an overstuffed easy chair near the window, fanning herself. “Are you okay?”

      “Well, I am now. All that blood. Ashley crying. I suppose it is just a minor injury, but my blood pressure still doesn’t know that.”

      “Why don’t I take her to the hospital and have the cut stitched,” Kara said. “You’d better stay home and rest.”

      Lizzie pulled herself to her feet, “If I don’t go, how are you going to get there? Take the bus?”

      The bus? That was silly. Michael could offer to drive her, but he would rather avoid any hospital settings. He might be more recognizable there.

      “Can’t you just drive Lizzie’s car?” he asked. The baby had settled down. The wound had stopped bleeding. Kara appeared to be relaxed.

      “I can’t,” Kara said.

      “Why not?” he asked.

      “I never learned to drive.”

      Michael’s jaw must have dropped when he heard her words, because Lizzie explained. “Kara hasn’t had the same opportunities as some young people. She has never owned a car, so she’s never been able to practice. I keep thinking I’ll take her out driving, but I guess we haven’t taken the time.”

      “It’s no big deal,” Kara said. “I walk a lot. And the bus system works great.”

      The bus. Michael bit back a scowl. Shoot, it wasn’t as though he were a fugitive. The worst that could happen would be having reporters find him and harass him again. If that happened, he’d just leave town.

      He raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll take you to the hospital. Just give me a minute or two. I’ll go get my keys.”

      As Michael left the room, Lizzie let out a slow sigh. “He is the nicest young man. Aren’t we lucky to have someone who knows first aid living next to us?”

      “Yes,” Kara said. “Do you think he’s a doctor?”

      “Driving that old blue Ford?” Lizzie made a noise with her lips. “Doctors are rich. I’ll bet he’s just a hospital orderly.”

      “You’re probably right,” Kara said. She placed a kiss on Ashley’s head. “But still, it’s nice to know that someone around here has some medical skill. Maybe I’d better sign up for a first aid class through community services. Michael won’t be here forever.”

      “No, he won’t.” Lizzie placed her hands on the armrests of the chair and slowly rose to her feet. “Too bad. He would make a nice neighbor.”

      Yes, he would, Kara thought. She, too, was glad to have him near. On one level. Under the surface, she knew having Michael next door would be a trial of sorts because each time she looked at him, she remembered the feel of his hand on her cheek, his lips on hers, the taste of him. It was a distraction she didn’t need right now.

      Before she could respond to Lizzie’s comment, Michael returned with his car keys and Eric on his heels. “Are you ready?”

      “Oh, dear,” Lizzie said. “You’ll need a car seat. We’ll have to take it out of my back seat and put it in yours.”

      “Why don’t I just drive your car, Lizzie?”

      “Oh. That would be easier, wouldn’t it?”

      Ten minutes later, Michael pulled into the hospital drive. He dropped Kara and Ashley off at the ER entrance, then parked Lizzie’s car in the visitor’s lot.

      This was a new experience for him. Usually, he pulled into a reserved spot. There was a special status given to doctors, even more so to surgeons. He’d never realized how special until he entered the double doors of the ER like any one of the others waiting their turn.

      An older woman and her male companion sat quietly and thumbed through weathered magazines. Michael wondered if they were actually reading the words or just going through the motions.

      A young man in baggy jeans paced the floor, walking on the shredded hems of his pants. Michael figured he’d walk off the excess length of his jeans before the afternoon was up. He glanced at the clock. Two thirty-five. This would probably take forever.

      He counted the people in the room—fourteen—then shook his head. Back in med school, he’d spent an ungodly number of hours during his long shifts in the ER—hours on end, days with little sleep. Still, the time had passed quickly. A string of emergencies, one crisis after another, kept him going. The hours passed quickly.

      Two thirty-six. At this rate, he and Kara would be here all day.

      He spotted her at a small window, balancing Ashley on her hip and pulling out insurance cards and a permission-to-treat form Lizzie had signed. He thought about joining her at the window, but didn’t. Instead he studied the figures in the room. He saw loneliness, worry and boredom etched on the faces before him. One man slammed down a magazine, then stomped out the door. Michael felt as though he’d like to do the same thing, but before he could give it any thought, Kara made her way toward him.

      “I’ve signed her in,” she said, trying to twist her head from Ashley’s reach. The little girl grabbed a handful of the red hair and jerked. Kara merely tugged the strands from Ashley’s grip, leaving several hairs behind. “The receptionist said they’d call us when it’s our turn.”

      Our turn? Michael scanned the room, then nodded. They took a seat near the telephone.

      Two thirty-seven. He made another assessment of the gash on Ashley’s forehead. Three stitches, maybe four. Four hundred dollars and half a day wasted. Oh, well. What did he have to do, anyway?

      “Would you please hold her?” Kara placed the infant on his lap before he had a chance to ask why. “I need to call her doctor. With all the excitement at home, I forgot.”

      “Sure,” Michael said. He rested Ashley’s diaper-clad bottom on his knee. She was a pretty little thing. Not much hair, but big brown eyes that would drive the boys wild in a few years.

      The baby thrust a fist at him, two strands of Kara’s hair still held tightly in her fingers. “I know you like the color. Me, too. But if you continue to pull it out like that, Kara won’t have any more for us to admire.”

      Ashley laughed as though they’d shared a private joke.

      Michael hadn’t held babies very often. Not like this. Ashley blew bubbles through pursed lips, and he couldn’t help but smile. “You were squawking pretty good a few minutes ago. Had everybody in panic mode. Did it hurt that bad?”

      The baby let out a happy shriek, the high-pitched sound surprising the smile from her face.

      “I didn’t think so.”

      When Kara returned, she reached for the diaper bag before Michael could put the baby in her arms. “Are you hungry, little one?” she asked, handing Ashley a bottle of milk.

      Ashley eagerly snatched the bottle and slunk down in Michael’s arms. She kicked one heel against his knee while happily mouthing the nipple. A dribble of milk eased down her chin, and he caught it with the tip of his finger. She smiled at him, as though grateful for his assistance. This was a strange experience for him. Sure, he’d held kids. Sick kids. Recovering kids. But not like this. Not in a day-to-day way.

      The tap of Ashley’s heel upon his knee slowed to a stop, and she closed her eyes and slowed her sucking. When her lips loosened upon the nipple, a flurry of tiny bubbles rushed into the remainder of the milk, filling the half-empty bottle with a lacy froth.

      Imagine that, the little kid was sleeping in his arms. A little angel—with a tummy full of milk and a knotted gash on her noggin.

      He held her like that for a long time, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Amazing, he thought. The little girl rested in peaceful slumber, but he, too, found