Second First Kiss

A nurse accosted him, shoving a chart into his arms. “You’re here. Oh, good.”

Jasher turned to look at the patient. “What do we have here? Heart attack.”

The world of emergency medicine absorbed them. But their date was coming soon. And Sage seemed to care just as much about medicine and patients—as Jasher did himself. Something inside his chest jarred hard to the side.

I need her in my life. It’s not just a want.

The next evening, Jasher’s truck kicked up a cloud of fine, light-brown dust behind its rear tires as they followed the old dirt road up Moose Creek Canyon toward their date location—which was the culinary equal in lack-of-glamour to the sluice.

“I haven’t been up here in years.” Sage sighed as they passed beneath the bower of trees along the road that paralleled Moose Creek. “The trees are denser than I remember.”

Jasher had made sure someone else was on call tonight—for both of them—so he could be guaranteed alone time with Sage.

Uninterrupted.

He downshifted on a hill. “From what I gather, the area hasn’t had a forest fire in a while.”

“I guess we’re overdue.” Sage sat back against the seat of his truck, her hair spilling down over her shoulders. “I hear it’s healthier for the forest if a fire comes through and clears out all the dead wood now and then.”

“Change is good for growth.” Jasher had gone for a fresh change himself—albeit not of his own free will. “Good for people, too, I hear.”

He downshifted again as the road dipped into the canyon.

“Are you referring to a specific change? Or just generalizing?” she asked. And she looked like she was really listening.

“Both,” he answered sincerely. “Change of scenery, change of jobs, change of people in our lives. All force us to stretch.”

“Is that why you want to sell the clinic and leave all of Mendon and the surrounding community without a surgeon? I mean, without a good surgeon. Because McGreeley hardly counts.”

Whoa. Where had that come from? It pierced like an arrow. “I assure you. I don’t want to leave Mendon with bad medical care. Not that Mendon, in return, gives a blankety-blank what happens to me.” He barely caught himself in time to replace the swear with the blanks. Mendon considered Jasher a cow-pie on the bottom of its collective shoe. “Before Dr. Parrish even died, and long before his will was read, I’d applied for a position in the Knighton Knee Clinic. Their hiring offer came the same day as I got the news that my stepdad had left me Parrish Medical.”

“Oh.” Sage sounded stung.

He shouldn’t have been so sharp with her. It was just that every person in Mendon seemed to want him to shrivel up and die. He’d put his shields up.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s not all bad here.” No, the Sage Everton factor was the one calamine lotion in the whole poison ivy episode he’d been wishing to end for the past month.

“Sure. I mean, you still have your mom in town. And Redmond.”

“You remember Redmond?” Did she remember the kindness she’d shown? “I don’t think my stepdad ever dreamed Redmond would outlive him. Down Syndrome doesn’t always have a long life-expectancy.”

“Your mom is his sole caregiver now, I take it.” Sage sounded concerned. “Is that hard for her?”

“She has some respite services, but he’s pleasant and high functioning. She doesn’t seem to think caring for him is trouble.” Which was yet another reason Mom was the best woman in the world. She’d married Brent Parrish about twenty years ago, soon after Jasher’s dad died, and had been Brent’s only son’s mother ever since. Mom’s love of Redmond made Parrish love Mom even more. No wonder Parrish agreed to do whatever she’d wished with his will—which was to leave Parrish Medical to me. Mom’s unmitigated goodness held Parrish captive. In a good way.

“You’re not staying at her house, though.” Sage had been to his dreary place to pick him up the other day. “I guess, well, you’re a grown man. Probably makes sense you don’t want to move in with your mom.”

“I might as well be living there—I go over often enough. Redmond and I hang out. He likes playing darts.”

“Who wins?”

“Oh, he does. Every time. He spends a lot of time practicing.”

Sage smiled. “Hey, look. Deer.”

She was calling him dear? A shower of tingles went through him until he realized she meant the homophone, not the endearment.

Sage pointed at a mass of brown and antlers in the woods across the creek. “A whole herd, right over there. Wow. Can you see them?”