And if she left medicine and moved back to San Diego, was there any possibility for her and Cal? No, she couldn’t keep hoping for something that wasn’t meant to be.
Jessica watched over the little boy, Philippe, like a hawk. Each day made her feel more optimistic about his prognosis and gradually eased her anxiety about his wellbeing. But her question about staying in medicine did not go away or diminish. With every patient she saw, with every patient-care decision she made, she knew her own resolve was becoming clearer, stronger.
She was grateful and relieved that Philippe’s progress was positive and there’d be no long-term consequences for him because of the accident, but it did nothing to change her mind.
The boy’s mother was so grateful, so effusive, Jessica found it embarrassing. She didn’t want to think of how the mother would have felt if the outcome had been different.
Jessica knew she couldn’t live her life always unsure, always questioning herself. She’d go mad, and it would only be a matter of time that she did make a mistake and the consequences would be dire.
It didn’t take her long to realize that if one of the reasons for accepting the assignment was not to get emotionally attached to her patients, she’d failed completely. She was coming to accept that she might never win her struggle with that ever-elusive “detached concern.” She grappled with what that would mean for her as a doctor and a surgeon. She believed wholeheartedly in the work of Care Across Continents, found it far more gratifying than anything she’d previously done, but she just wasn’t cut out for it.
Confidence, decisiveness, steady nerves and hands—these were all essential traits of a surgeon. She feared she’d never have them again, if she’d ever had them to begin with. That meant she was destined to make a wrong decision sooner or later, at the expense of a patient’s life. She couldn’t live with that.
But what were her choices? If she didn’t practice medicine, what would she do?
* * *
JESSICA KEPT PHILIPPE and his mother at their compound a few days longer than necessary, because she didn’t want to take any chances. As soon as Philippe was able to, he played outside in their small fenced yard with Scrubs. The boy and dog connected, and Scrubs abandoned Jessica’s quarters in favor of being Philippe’s ever-present companion. The bond was so obvious and strong that when she finally felt comfortable letting Philippe go home, it was apparent that Scrubs had to go with him.
Sitting in her office, she watched through the window as Philippe and his mother walked toward the bus stop, Scrubs scampering around his legs. It brought to mind a day that seemed so very long ago but in reality had been just months—of a little girl, her curly blonde pigtails bouncing, as she played with Scout on the boardwalk. Her name was Cindy, she recalled. The vision transformed itself into a memory, of walking hand in hand with Cal. They’d been walking back to his house that day.
Instead of dulling with time and distance, her memories of Cal seemed to be becoming ever more intense, ever more frequent. Not a day went by that she didn’t think of him, wonder how and what he was doing. She thought of Kayla and Haley, too, and wondered how things had progressed for Cal with both girls.
And with a clarity that couldn’t be denied, she knew she loved him. She rested her fingertips across her lips and remembered how it had felt when he’d kissed her that first time.
She’d been in Honduras for just over two months, and it already seemed like a lifetime, being away from Cal. But she might as well get used to it. Whether in San Diego or a continent away, the distance between them would remain unbridgeable.
When Jessica’s phone rang, she reached for it absently, her eyes on Philippe clutching Scrubs in his arms as he and his mother boarded the bus out of town. Her thoughts returned to Cal and a much different but no less lovable dog. The view outside blurred as tears filled her eyes.
“Jessica Hansen,” she answered.
“Jessica, it’s Harold Massey.”
Hearing the voice of Dr. Massey, recently appointed as chair of the board of Care Across Continents, brought a smile to her lips. “Dr. Massey. It’s nice to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”
“I wish it was good news, Jessica. You remember Raymond Goulding? Our executive director?”
“Of course.” She thought of the middle-aged man who’d offered her the contract, and wondered why Dr. Massey would be calling on his behalf. “Is there a problem with my contract?”
“Oh, no,” he was quick to reassure her. “That’s not why I’m calling. I’m afraid I have sad news about Raymond. He had a massive stroke. His right side and his speech are significantly impaired.”
Jessica was horrified. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?”
There was a slight hesitation at the other end of the line. “Yes, actually, there is,” he continued. “And that’s the reason for my call. Raymond won’t be able to continue his duties leading the organization. We had a special meeting of the board of directors last night, and both Raymond and I recommended that we review your credentials to see if there could be a fit.”
“A fit for what?”
“Well, let me get to that. After assessing your qualifications, the members of the board were impressed and unanimously authorized me to make you a job offer. To see if you’d be interested in heading up the organization as our new executive director.”
Jessica knew her mouth had dropped open. “You mean move back to San Diego?” Her immediate and overriding thought was that she’d get to see Cal again. She could go home to him!
“Well, yes.” There was warmth in Dr. Massey’s voice. “It’ll be a demanding job, because of the expansion and fundraising plans we have in place. I’m convinced it would be that much more challenging if you weren’t here.”
“I... I’m honored that you’d think of me...but am I really the best person for the role? I have limited administrative experience—just running the trauma unit. And there are many well-qualified people who’ve been with the organization much longer than I have.”
“Yes, of course. We always look for candidates who have a passion for healthcare and have been practicing physicians, so they understand the opportunities and the difficulties. We also look for strong communicators, since the executive director is the face of the organization to the public, the media and our donors. I could go on but, in short, yes, we believe you’re well-suited for the role.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything right now. I realize it won’t be an easy decision for you. I understand you’re an exceptional surgeon and this would remove you from direct patient care. We’d understand if you said no, but I’d like you to consider it and get back to me if you have any questions. While you’re thinking, rest assured the board and I believe in you.”
Jessica was in a daze. She’d barely had time to unpack and now she had an opportunity to return to San Diego...and to Cal. That was the first and most compelling reason for her—to be able to see Cal and determine whether they could set things right.
And with the new job, she also had an opportunity to do something that required her skills, knowledge and training, would be rewarding and yet would alleviate the professional issues she’d been struggling with. How fitting that the perfect opportunity, one she’d never even dreamed of, had come her way at a time when she was struggling with what to do with the rest of her life.
Despite her limited experience, she’d always been good at the administrative side of healthcare; now, she’d get better.
But a second chance with Cal trumped even her enthusiasm about the job.
* * *
THE MORE JESSICA thought about her return to San Diego, the more she thought about Cal, and the more anxious and excited she became. She’d been wrong to withhold her plans from him. She knew that simple a
ct had hurt Cal. Part of her wanted to call and let him know she was moving back home. How much harder would it make things between them if he somehow found out from other sources that she was returning to San Diego?
But that was assuming it would matter to him. Based on the way they’d parted, the fact that he’d encouraged her to go and didn’t seem the least bit bothered about it, that wasn’t a sure bet. She prided herself on being a principled, honest, direct person. How had things become so muddled between them? She had to tell him she was coming home. But then she thought about how much she had at stake. If she called and poured her heart out to him and he rejected her, how could she deal with that? What recourse would she have then? It had to be face to face.
And she had to be honest with herself, too. She was terrified of not being able to work things out with Cal.
She missed Cal. She loved him. She wanted to see him.
It might have just been coincidence, but she’d been given this opportunity to return to San Diego. How could she not see it as a second chance to be with Cal? To see if Cal was willing to forgive her... If the adoption hadn’t already gone through, would he still want to try...but this time with her? As a couple, presumptuous though that seemed?
After much agonizing, she finally decided she wouldn’t call in advance. There was too much riding on the outcome not to talk to him in person. She needed to see his eyes, his body language. She needed to touch him and convince him that she could be trusted. Convince him of her love.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
San Diego, California
“WE’VE GOT A call for an assist from Tactical,” Rick Vasquez shouted over to Cal. “You up for it?”
“Yeah. What’s the nature of the incident?” he asked as he rose and got his gear ready.
“Armed robbery at a bank. A teller and a bystander were shot. Neither one of them is seriously hurt, but the shooter took off. The unit responding had his vehicle blocked so he took off on foot. Last known location was Harmony Grove Road and he was heading toward the Elfin Forest Reserve. He’s got a history of violent crime. He’s armed and dangerous. They need tracking.”
Cal put on his bulletproof vest and stuffed what he’d need into his duffel.
Rick went to him, laid a hand on his shoulder. “Cal, there’s going to be running through rough terrain and you know it.” He said it quietly so no one else in the room could hear. “There’s no shame in passing this one over to Shannon,” he said, referring to the rookie handler whose dual-purpose dog was training for search and rescue. “It’s up to you, but you can pass on this one.”
Cal paused for a moment, tested the weight on his right leg. He slapped Rick on the back. “Thanks, but I’ll take it. It’s my job. Besides, Shannon is still green. I wouldn’t want her getting hurt.”
He and Scout jogged to his truck. With lights flashing, he drove to rendezvous with the tactical team.
They were in the parking lot by the entrance to the Elfin Forest trail. Cal knew the trail was just under seven miles long but that there were no more places off the main trail where a person could hide.
The tactical team might have full body armor and be heavily armed, but he and Scout had to travel light and move fast. That was the reason he wore only a vest.
If the shooter was hiding, as opposed to moving, they’d be running right to him, and he’d be able to both hear and see them coming from a distance. If he was so inclined, he’d have a clear shot at both of them. Cal, on the other hand, had no way of knowing if they were almost upon him or still miles away. That put him and Scout in extreme danger.
Cal got a quick briefing from the head of the tactical team. He wasn’t surprised to learn that it was more than a bank robbery gone wrong. The teller who’d been shot was the shooter’s ex-wife. He hadn’t been satisfied with shooting her; he’d threatened to take more people out and said something about a bomb. Since he was a chemical engineer, the threat was deemed to be credible. Brody and his explosives-detection dog, Nitro, had been dispatched to the bank to check for explosives.
Scout got the shooter’s scent almost right away, and he and Cal led the tactical team into the forest. For the initial part, Scout took them along the trail, but about a mile in, he veered off into the forest.
“Can you slow your dog down, Tracker?” came the anticipated request from the tactical team sergeant. They would’ve preferred to move more cautiously and under cover.
Cal didn’t bother to acknowledge it with a reply. He just did his best to keep up with Scout, despite the throbbing ache in his right thigh. The high canopy kept most of the sunlight from filtering down to the forest floor and the closely spaced tree trunks provided some cover as they continued through the forest at a rapid pace.
When Scout broke out into a small clearing with a berm on the far side, Cal could feel the dog’s energy level escalate. Cal’s instincts told him they were in trouble. “Ease back,” he called to the cops behind him. “Stay behind cover, if you can.”
He attempted to keep himself and Scout to the perimeter, where they’d have partial cover, but Scout was hot on the scent and couldn’t be deterred. Cal bent as low as he could and followed.
He heard the discharge of a high-caliber handgun and felt blinding pain when the bullet hit him. He had enough control as he was falling to roll onto Scout’s leash, preventing him from yanking it out of his hand and charging at the shooter, which would almost certainly have gotten Scout shot. Cal heard the tactical guys’ hurried exchange and saw them rush by before everything went black.
* * *
JESSICA LOVED CAL. Since the day she’d accepted the executive director role and knew she was returning to San Diego, she could hardly keep her mind off Cal. She debated over and over again whether she should call him or not. She kept circling back to the same decision. There was too much at stake to call him. What if he rejected her?
She needed to do it in person. To see him, let him see her, let him see the depth of her love...and remorse. She wanted to see firsthand if he still had feelings for her.
Now that she was back home, she couldn’t wait to see him.
She was glad she hadn’t sold her little Miata, just lent it to one of the nurses at the hospital. She put the top down and drove to Cal’s house first. She didn’t see his police SUV in the driveway and assumed he must be at work. She picked up the two newspapers tossed on his front porch and placed them in the mailbox, together with what appeared to be a couple days’ mail. She wondered if he might have gone on vacation, but decided to look for him at the police division.
The woman at the reception counter would only tell her he wasn’t there. When Jessica asked where she could find him, she said she wasn’t authorized to provide that information. Jessica explained who she was, but the woman remained adamant that unless she was immediate family, she couldn’t discuss Officer Palmer’s whereabouts.
As Jessica walked across the parking lot to her car, she recognized one of the other K-9 cops hurrying to his vehicle. She tried to remember his name. Rick. It was Rick, the guy they called Pitbull. He’d probably know where she could find Cal and maybe he’d be willing to tell her.
She called to him, and saw the recognition on his face, too. He gave her a distracted, almost angry look as he climbed into his truck.
Jessica rushed over and rested a hand on the open window as Rick was about to pull away. “Can I speak to you for a minute about Cal Palmer?” she asked.
* * *
CAL WAS AWARE of sounds first. He heard vague murmurs and hurried conversation. Next came the pain. His chest was throbbing with it.
When he finally tried to open his eyes, he first saw blurred circles of pastel colors. He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them, squinted and tried to focus. His sight cleared, and he was staring up at bright institutional lights mounted on the ceiling. The light intensified th
e hammering in his head, and he squeezed his eyelids shut again.
Someone touched his shoulder. “Cal? Cal? Can you hear me?” The voice calling to him sounded disconcertingly familiar.
He’d been shot. He remembered that, and when he’d started to come to, he’d felt relief that whatever his condition, he was at least alive. But the bright lights and the voice that shouldn’t have been there made him wonder if, in fact, he had died.
“Cal?” The touch on his shoulder was firmer, the voice more insistent. There was no mistaking it.
He turned his head toward the voice and regretted it immediately as the pain crested. He forced his eyelids open once more, saw a face he’d never expected to see again. Certainly not by his bedside, not in this country.
Jessica looked ethereal. If he reached for her, he was certain his hand would move through unobstructed air. If she was a vision, he didn’t want her to disappear. “What...what are you doing here?” he croaked.
“I moved back home,” was Jessica’s answer.
Cal turned his head away, pain be damned. She’d come back and she didn’t even have the decency to tell him about that, either. If he was imagining her, it only proved how much resentment he still had. He kept his eyes closed, his head turned. “Is Scout okay? Do you know if he’s okay?”
“Yes. I asked. He’s fine. They caught the guy. Thanks to you and Scout.”
“Good. Now go away and leave me alone.” Cal slurred the words before he drifted off into a drug-induced sleep again.
The next time he woke, he was alone in a hospital room. The pain was still there, but bearable. He felt light-headed, his mind foggy. Lifting an arm, he noticed the IV drip, and assumed he was being injected with a strong painkiller.
He noticed a card propped up on the bedside stand, reached for it and smiled. It was a drawing of him and Scout. Scout had a bone in his mouth and Cal sported a bandage on his chest. Hearts and stars floated down from the sky. Written on the bottom, in a child’s hand, was “Get well soon, Daddy. Love, Haley.” The drawing had apparently been scanned and emailed, someone had printed it, and tacked it to a piece of cardboard so it could stand on the tabletop.