"Continue to act like friends in public," she'd told him, surprised at how easily he'd let her take charge. "Can you keep a secret? I mean really keep it. Not a peep about us to anyone?"
He'd shrugged. "Watch me."
So they'd sealed the bond.
That had been eight months ago, just before last Christmas.
They'd been lovers ever since, except when he'd had to go off to the Finger Lakes district again, at the beginning of the year.
The music ended, and she opened her eyes. The summer dusk promised a long, languid sunset. "I want to be more than just your chum tonight," she whispered.
"You mean in the hospital? We might blow our cover."
"There's tomorrow morning. After sign-out, come on over, and I'll make you breakfast."
His dark good looks lit up with that infectious grin of his that she loved to see.
"You mean ol" hillbilly me finally is considered housebroken enough to be allowed into that new apartment of yours?" he teased. "What happened? Someone cover it all in plastic?"
She'd just moved into a new place. For reasons of her own, she'd hesitated at inviting him over. "Something like that. How about it?"
"Love to," he said, and walked away, rejoining the residents he'd been talking with earlier.
Feeling miserable, she wandered over to the end of the table, away from her nursing friends. Did he want her as much as she did him? At times she suspected his aversion to gossip simply gave him the excuse he needed to keep her at a distance- handy when he needed her, but out of sight when it suited him.
"You look as if you've lost your best friend," said a voice behind her.
She turned to see Father Jimmy, beer in hand. He gave her a lopsided grin that lifted her spirits despite her foul mood. "Hi, Father. No, it isn't anything like that."
He glanced across the room and nodded toward Thomas. "You're sure?"
She felt her face grow warm. He couldn't possibly know about Thomas and her. They'd been so careful. "What are you talking about?"
"You seem unhappy. Tis a shame, a woman of your talent and beauty."
The burn in her face increased. "I'm fine."
"Are you? I'd say that the usual J.S. spark is missing tonight."
"Just tired, is all."
"Ah, well, if that's the problem, I'm not surprised. You work hard."
"No more than the next person."
"Oh, I disagree. I can tell the good ones, and you're right up there, J.S. You pour heart and soul into what you do, and haven't backed off it since the day you arrived. I like that in you."
His candid praise surprised her. While he'd always been friendly and spoke of the good job that nurses did, she'd never heard him single one out for special mention before, let alone her. Probably figured she needed cheering up. "Thank you, Father. That's very kind."
"Kindness has nothing to do with it." He walked over and sat down beside her. "A lot of the patients talk about the special 'pierced angel of ER.'"
She started to laugh. "The what?"
He grinned again and took a swig of beer. "I've been wondering if maybe I should get an earring. What do you think?"
She laughed some more. "Come on."
"But I never get a clear answer whether right or left is a message. Needless to say, I can't go around giving the wrong idea."
"You're not serious."
"Sure. I figure it'll help bridge the gap between me and some of the street kids."
She searched his face for a hint that he'd engaged her in one of his games of zany banter, but he seemed quite pensive. And for the first time she found herself guessing about his age. Probably mid-thirties. Not at all too old for jewelry, though she couldn't remember ever seeing a priest wear any. She would have thought there'd be a rule against it.
"So which is it, right or left?"
She laughed. "Right or left ear. It doesn't matter anymore," she said. "And I could do it for you if you like." She immediately felt shy at making the offer.
But he let out a deep chuckle. "Why, I can't think of anyone I'd rather trust my earlobe to. Just tell me when and where."
His ready acceptance relaxed her. Apparently he hadn't found the offer out of line. "Good. I'll check with Susanne about using a treatment room in ER. It won't take more than a few minutes. But bring the ring with you, so I can insert it to keep the perforation open."
"Done. Let me know when you're ready. And thanks, J.S." He held out his hand to shake on the deal. The firmness of his grip didn't surprise her, given his physique, but the roughness of his palm did. It had the calluses that only years of physical labor could produce. Like her father's.
She realized her hand had lingered in his when he said, "Not the soft skin you expected?"
"Oh, sorry." She felt her cheeks grow warm.
"Hey, I'm proud when someone notices. They got like that prior to divinity school, when I bummed around out west for a few years. Worked as a ranch hand in several places. Say, you're from the prairies too, aren't you?"
"Yeah, but further east. I grew up in wheat country- Grand Forks, North Dakota, right on the Minnesota border."
"I know where it is. Just north of where they made that movie Fargo a few years back, and gave everyone Norwegian accents."
She laughed again, knowing exactly the film he meant. Everyone in Grand Forks had busted a gut laughing at it. "l-ya do-on't kno-oo wh-at yo-ou me-an," she mimicked, summoning up her best singsong rendition of the lead actress's portrayal of a local female cop's speech.
He threw his head back and guffawed so loudly it stopped conversations and attracted more than a few looks. "That's perfect," he managed to say, still chortling, oblivious to the reactions around him. "Say something else."
Carried away by his exuberance, she added, "Be-ee ca-re fu-ull, o-or yo-ou wi-ill pu-uke."
This time he nearly doubled over, and she started to giggle, finding his easy enjoyment of her joke infectious.
They settled down, and he asked, "Are your mom and dad still in Grand Forks?"
A twinge of sadness cut through the happy moment. "My father died in a construction accident twelve years ago. Mom's there, though," she added, brightening, "along with my kid brother, Arliss, who's now six foot and in his final year of high school. To think I used to beat him up."
He reared back in an expression of mock horror. "Did ya now?"
His Irish brogue made her giggle again.
"And you look like you could still handle yourself," he continued, bringing his head closer to hers. His eyes alight with playfulness, he held a hand to the side of his mouth in an obvious parody of someone about to reveal a secret. "Your speed as a runner actually had me worried during the race today. Fast as a cheetah, ye are. Nobody's come so close to beatin' the Flying Angels in years."
They chatted a few more minutes about the prairie, and then he excused himself.
As he walked away, she thought it odd that she found him so likable. Her attitude toward God's existence amounted to little more than a willingness to keep an open mind on the subject. Yet during her encounters with Father Jimmy in ER, she had never once sensed that he had an underlying agenda to show her the error of her loosely held beliefs. He just seemed friendly and fun. In fact, if he weren't a priest… She immediately shut down that line of thought. My God, what could she be thinking?
She nevertheless continued to watch the man as he wandered the room, joking with whomever he met, until she saw Dr. G. corner him. The two exchanged a few words, their expressions tightened into frowns, and they left together, joined in an animated discussion. At the door leading back into the hospital they stopped where boxes of protective clothing had been stacked and suited up again, but the ritual failed to interfere with their conversation.