Jamie nodded.
“What happened?”
Jamie shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“If this is what’s made you want to die, you need to talk about it.”
“It’s not.”
Melissa didn’t believe her. Jamie had remained so strong through it all, an ideal patient, according to Dr Arnold. Dr Arnold had taken a special interest in Jamie. Even when Melissa and he talked about other patients, Jamie’s name always came into the conversation. Always. And the interest sounded more and more personal rather than professional.
Jamie had a lot to live for. Dr Arnold was a good man.
Melissa weighed her options. She could have Jamie committed if she believed she intended to hurt herself. She looked at the blond woman, shoulders slumped, eyes dejected.
Did she think Jamie would really hurt herself? That was the million-dollar question.
Jamie was crying out for help and had no one to turn to except her. She wouldn’t risk being wrong.
“I’m going to call the crisis hotline. A counselor will come to the office to talk with you. I think they’ll advise you to go to t
he hospital for a while.”
Jamie’s eyes widened in protest.
“If your sister can’t watch the girls, I’ll look after them.”
Jamie’s gaze dropped to Melissa’s belly, reminding her that her timing might be off for making such a grand gesture.
“I’m not due for another week. It’ll be fine.” Somehow it would be. She would see to it.
Jamie shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“Isn’t that the wonderful thing about friends?” Melissa squeezed her hand. “You didn’t have to ask. I offered.”
Lunchtime came, but talking with the crisis counselor put Melissa behind and she hadn’t finished with her morning patients. Still, she stopped for a yogurt and an apple. She’d made James a promise and would do her best to live up to that promise.
For the past two weeks he’d refused to let her work full time. She hadn’t wanted to give in, but had, for James. He’d lived up to his end of the bargain. Her practice flourished, and she was honest enough to admit that she would have had to cut back even if James hadn’t forced the issue. His help kept things moving normally, better than normal. He saw patients with her on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, lightening her workload tremendously. And for the past month he’d come home early on Tuesdays and Thursdays, insisting she get some rest.
Today, she wouldn’t argue. Her back throbbed.
Fortunately, Jamie’s worried sister agreed to take the girls, but would need them picked up from school. Cindy had to stay for detention each afternoon due to not doing her homework.
“How’s your day been?” James asked, arriving at the clinic, slipping off his coat and doing the obligatory belly rub.
Even knowing that he touched the baby rather than her, Melissa’s pulse quickened. When the baby gave a hearty push against his hand, James smiled. Heat filled Melissa at the tenderness in his blue eyes. He would be OK. Together they would deal with his past, with Cailee’s death.
“OK for the most part.” She started to tell him about Jamie, but Debbie knocked on the office door.
“Sorry to interrupt, but Ben Brown is in the procedure room. He sliced his hand open while cutting wood. He’s bleeding pretty badly.”
“I’ll be right there,” James told the nurse, then smiled at Melissa. “I’ll take care of Ben. Go home. You look tired.”
“It has been a long day,” she admitted, wishing they’d had time to talk about Jamie. In the past they’d rarely talked about patients. These days they shared insights and smiles over the day’s events. They would talk tonight.
The weather took a turn for the worse and a few snowflakes fell from the gray sky. Melissa left her car running and, bundled up in her oversized coat, waddled into the school.
When Amanda saw her, heard why Melissa was there, she started crying. “She’s dead, isn’t she? I wished her dead, and now she is. Just like my daddy.”