Catching Fireflies. Sherryl Woods
to brown bag it today. They’re all in here, and not a one of them can make a decision.”
“Well, I don’t have that problem,” he assured her. “I’ll take the chef’s salad, Italian dressing on the side.”
Grace rolled her eyes as she always did. “Big surprise. One of these days I’m going to convince you to eat a burger like a normal customer.”
He laughed. “Someone besides me must eat the salad, or you wouldn’t have it on the menu.”
“How about a chocolate shake to go with it? Milk’s good for you, right?” she taunted.
“Not with the amount of ice cream you add to it,” he told her. “I’ve heard about those impossibly thick shakes you make. As delicious as they sound, I’ll pass.”
“You are so boring,” she accused, turning to Debra and Jan. “I hope the two of you are a little more adventurous.” She regarded Jan curiously. “You’re new in town. I never forget a face.”
“She’s visiting me from California,” Debra said. “Janice is the daughter of an old friend. I’m hoping to persuade her to move here.”
“Well, good luck with that,” Grace said. “Now, what can I get you?”
“Cheeseburger for me,” Debra said at once.
“And I’ll have the same,” Jan said, a twinkle in her eyes. “I’ll just run an extra mile this afternoon.”
J.C. gave her another look. “You’re a runner?”
“Not a marathoner, if that’s what you mean,” she said with a chuckle. “But I usually get in a few miles on a regular basis so I can justify all the terrible things I enjoy eating.”
“Maybe the two of you could go for a run together,” Debra suggested, clearly not giving up on her matchmaking scheme. “Jan mentioned just this morning that the track at the high school is starting to get boring. You could show her the route around the lake.”
“It’s not necessary,” Jan said, clearly embarrassed by Debra’s persistence.
“I’m going for a run first thing tomorrow morning,” J.C. found himself saying. “I’d be happy to pick you up and take you along. The lake is a lovely setting, especially just after dawn.”
Jan nodded. “Then I’d love it, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“Is seven too early? Much later and it starts getting crowded.”
“Absolutely not.”
He noticed that Debra finally sat back looking like the very sated cat that had swallowed the canary. A part of him hoped she’d choke on it.
* * *
Five minutes after he returned to the office, J.C. called his nurse in.
“You ready for your first patient?” Debra inquired cheerfully.
“Not just yet,” he said, trying to keep his expression stern. It was hard to do when she was so clearly pleased with herself. “Debra, have I not told you repeatedly that I’m not interested in dating?”
“You have,” she said readily.
“And which part of that didn’t you understand?”
“Oh, I heard all the words,” she said. She beamed at him. “I just don’t accept them.”
“Debra,” he began in frustration, then faltered. What could he say that he hadn’t already said, especially if he had no intention of revealing all the sordid details about his divorce years ago? He heaved a sigh. “Never mind. Just put Mrs. Carson and Tommy in room two and tell them I’ll be right there.”
“Already done,” she said, proving once more the sort of efficiency that would make her nearly impossible to replace. If she turned that same skill to his social life, he was probably doomed. The only way to beat her at that game would be to take charge of it himself.
“Have you spoken to Dr. Townsend about Jan?” he asked as she started to leave.
“Not just yet,” she said. “I thought it would be more effective if you mentioned it.”
He frowned at that. “The way I heard it straight from her lips, she’s not really interested in moving here.”
“Oh, I think she would if the right opportunity came along,” she responded confidently.
“And you think working in a small town medical practice would be the right opportunity?”
She shrugged. “Maybe not, but I know working with you would be.”
“Debra!”
She laughed at his discomfort. “I’m just saying, you could both do worse.” Then she gave him a look that was all too knowing. “Something tells me you already have.”
And that, J.C. thought, was the sad truth of things.
* * *
Laura was thoroughly frustrated by her inability to figure out what was going on with Misty. She’d been AWOL from class again today, and Cal had had nothing to report that might give her any insight beyond mentioning that Misty’s pediatrician shared her concern. Time was running out. If she couldn’t solve the mystery and get Misty back into class by Monday morning, she’d have no choice but to bring it to the principal’s attention. Then it would be out of her hands. She’d take enough heat for having been silent for this long.
She’d just finished recording the grades from the last assignment when she looked up and saw Misty standing in the doorway to the classroom. She looked as if she might bolt at any second.
“There you are,” Laura said, unable to keep a note of relief out of her voice. “I’ve missed you in class. I’ve asked your other teachers to let you know I wanted to see you, but you’ve been ignoring my messages.”
“I’m sorry,” Misty said, making her way into the room with unmistakable reluctance.
The poor child looked as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders.
“Do you have a minute now?” Misty asked hesitantly. “Or some other time?”
“Now’s good,” Laura assured her.
Misty sat down and looked everywhere but directly at her.
“Want to tell me what’s been going on?” Laura asked eventually.
Misty shook her head. “Not really.”
Laura bit back a smile. “Then why are you here?”
“I made a promise to somebody and I have to keep it or I’ll be in big trouble.”
“You’re already in big trouble,” Laura reminded her. “Skipping class is grounds for suspension.”
Misty sighed, her expression oddly resigned. “Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I could just study at home and turn in my assignments.”
Laura frowned at her. “What’s wrong with school, Misty? You’ve always been an excellent student. The first papers you turned in for me were A-plus tests and essays, so I know you’re not struggling with the material. Now you’re skipping my class.”
“And Mr. Jamison’s,” the teen admitted.
Laura wasn’t all that surprised that he hadn’t noticed. Dave knew his subjects—algebra and geometry—but beyond that he wasn’t exactly a teacher who stayed on top of things. She wondered, though, what the common denominator was between those two classes.
“So it’s not just my teaching style you don’t like,” she said, hoping to lighten the mood a little.
Misty looked appalled by the suggestion. “No, you’re great! I love English. Math, too, for that matter.