“I know what vertebrae are, doctor.” Calhoun apparently didn’t gain charm when drugged. How unfortunate. “You don’t need to talk down to me. I know what a loser you were, are, and always will be. Don’t forget that.”
One of the courses he’d been required to attend in medical school was doctor-patient relations, and there’d been a section on dealing with surly people. However, the lectures hadn’t covered dealing with longstanding grudges, or with patients who’d put a hit out on you when you were a teenager.
“Your T1 and T2 vertebrae were fractured. Immediate surgery was required to prevent damage to the spinal column and potential future loss of mobility. You received a vertebroplasty.” He described the process in thumbnail. “The bone cement should heal the fracture, prevent further collapse, and help with pain.”
Calhoun’s face was a stone until he heard the word pain. “If I hear you’re the one who put me under the knife, I’ll probably get up and walk out of here this second.”
How clueless was this guy?
A large presence loomed up behind Jasher, accompanied by a cloud of cologne. McGreeley spoke in a booming voice. “Calhoun! The only reason you’ll ever get up and walk out of anywhere again, young man, is this doctor right here.” McGreeley pushed a heavy hand down on Jasher’s shoulder. “You’re bleeping lucky he was here to operate on you, or worse—you might have died and never seen another bleeping rodeo.”
He didn’t use the word bleeping.
“What are you saying?” Cade’s eyes narrowed. His gaze flitted between Jasher and McGreeley. “I could’ve ended up paralyzed? Or dead?”
Jasher kept his tone even. “Those risks did exist.”
“You bet your bottom dollar,” McGreeley added. Except he didn’t use the term bottom dollar.
“But, how come I can move my legs now?”
Jasher looked to McGreeley, then to Cade. “The vertebroplasty was successful.”
McGreeley exploded with a loud, “Pah! Because this here surgeon had not only the nerves of steel to perform a complex surgery under intense time pressure, but he also had the knife skills and the book learning to know what to do. For you, young punk. So get off your high horse, and step away from the bull puckey, and tell this guy thank you because you owe him not only your life, but you also owe him your quality of life.”
McGreeley planted his hands on his hips, as if he were waiting for the imminent apology.
Fat chance. That was not coming, whether McGreeley stood there tapping his foot for thirty seconds or thirty years.
“Dr. McGreeley, I’ll see you in the hallway.” Jasher left the room. A minute later, McGreeley joined him. “Dave, I’m going to turn the recovery of Cade Calhoun over to you, or else if you’re not up for it, I’m going to have him transferred to Reedsville for further observation.”
“I’ll take it, but let me say—that man owes you the biggest butt-kissing this side of the Elk River.”
“I don’t need it. Or want it. Parrish Medical is more or less under contract to be sold to an investor, and I’ve got a job waiting for me.” Unbelievably, the Knighton Knee Clinic still hadn’t yet withdrawn their offer to Jasher. “I’m leaving Mendon and everyone in it behind.” He took two strides down the hall, when McGreeley’s words halted him in his tracks.
“Including Sage Everton?”
Jasher halted. He didn’t turn back, but he couldn’t walk on, either.
“The whole hospital knows, Hotchkiss. It’s as plain as a mole on a face.”
That wasn’t the idiom, but … was it that obvious? “She’s an exceptional woman.”
“She’s an exceptional nurse anesthetist. Even before his hand injury, Babbage was complaining of arthritis. He’s put his house up for sale and put down money on a fishing cabin above Lake Bloom. She’ll be the head of anesthesia for the whole hospital once he leaves.”
Jasher turned around. “Does Sage know this?”
“She’s been kind of preoccupied.” McGreeley smirked, as if to say, with dating you. “No time for hospital gossip these days. But me, neither. My date from the auction is working out quite nicely.” He blew on his nails and looked expectant, as if Jasher was supposed to ask about McGreeley’s dating life next. When he didn’t, McGreeley offered anyway. “Got me a sugar mama. Nice lady, three dogs and a cat, and a fifty-acre ranch. If things work out, I might be getting myself a horseback-riding hobby pretty soon.”
Sage. Head of anesthesia for the whole regional hospital. A huge career leap for her. Of course, it made sense. The administration loved her. Geez. Everyone loved her.
Even I might love her. Who was he kidding? Jasher did love her. Always had.
Which was exactly why he couldn’t follow through on his vague notion to propose to her and ask her to come with him to Reedsville. He’d be asking her to give up too much.
Or would he? He’d ask her to lose her job and gain a man she loved. Or at least one who loved her.
I still don’t know where her feelings stand.
If she chose him, Jasher would make it worth her while. He’d even made a bold move and asked Mom for her wedding ring from her marriage to Dad, since she hadn’t worn it anymore after she married Dr. Parrish.
Babbage and his arthritic hands, blast them!
“Good night, McGreeley.”
“Get some rest, Dr. Hotchkiss. You’ve got some decisions to make. They’ll be easier after a good night’s sleep.”
Jasher highly doubted that.