Chapter 19

 Dead Serious 

Atticus returned to Adventura Friday afternoon to rampant applause from the staff. Sione draped a lei around his neck. Mark snuck him a three-ounce steak. And Justin fashioned a shirt to keep the dust out of his expansive wounds that said Hero Dog of Adventura.

Four puckered red lines studded with neat black stitches crossed a shaved patch of bare skin on Atticus’s side. A white bandage twirled up his foreleg. He kept me company in the kitchen all day, settled on a comfortable bed of blankets arranged by JJ’s detail-oriented eye. Atty’s warm kisses felt better than any job offer.

•••

“JJ,” I said Sunday afternoon, “you may be able to climb almost any wall of rock known to man. You may have voted in more local elections than I have. And you carry the secret recipe for perfect vegan curry in your head and won’t share, but that means nothing. I will beat you at The Game.”

My fingers tapped the stack of cards lying in front of us. A resounding chorus of ooh sounded through the dining room. JJ’s lips twitched.

“You boast a smooth play,” he said, leaning back. His eyes tapered. “But my score is still tied with yours, which means you may not be the best anymore.”

The muscles in my back cramped. I straightened, attempting to stretch them out. Vines of licorice, fun-size candy bars, and water bottles littered the table around us. To my right lay a pad of paper with two columns—Megan: 190 and JJ: 190.

“Don’t make a bet with her,” someone called from the back. “She’ll take a nap, and we won’t get dinner!”

The staff jostled each other, guffawing under their breaths. I ignored them, keeping my eyes pinned on JJ. Flecks of gold ringed his hazel irises.

“You’re determined?” he asked.

“You know I’m the master. No one’s ever beaten me at The Game.”

Hesitation flickered in his eyes. We’d played our family card game—a mixture of solitaire and pinochle—all night while camping as kids. The rules had formed in late nights of wild fatigue, eventually becoming a sacred tradition. The Game had always been in our lives.

And it had always been mine.

My fingers glided through the cards with smooth momentum, helping me rack up points my brothers couldn’t match. Only JJ challenged me because he’d always stayed up late playing with me. Talking about boys. Basketball practice. Whatever came up.

He shuffled the cards, fanning a perfect bridge that made a pfft sound. Admittedly, his lack of acquiescence made me nervous. He couldn’t care less about organized card games. Unlike Mark, JJ didn’t thrive off competition unless it came from a rock. Which made his penchant for winning more aggravating. He tossed me the deck.

“Deal the cards. We’ll see who’s the family master.”

The focused attention of the staff bore into my back. I couldn’t fathom why they cared, but I surmised it had something to do with hope of JJ finally losing at something.

“Whoever wins walks away with eternal glory,” I said. “The title may not, at any time, be revoked unless won back. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

He flicked his fingers.

“Deal the cards.”

The cards darted out of my hand at expert speed. Not a single person spoke. Most of them had been following the challenge since it started early this morning. We’d recessed only for lunch. My head pounded. My eyes ached. I wanted to go for a run to clear all the sugar out of my system. But I stayed.

Today, honor was more important than health.

“All right, girl power,” JJ drawled as he rearranged his handful of cards. “Get ready to lose your mind.”

I studied my cards, mentally categorizing them before I committed to the speed portion of The Game. A promising hand. I could stack, rearrange. Make it work somehow. The high-pitched beep of my phone cut through the silent lodge. It sat on the table next to me, face up. When I reached for it, JJ shook a finger.

“No way. This is between you and me. A phone call can wait.”

One word appeared at the top of my screen.

Blake.

I blinked. Blake? We hadn’t spoken since I left West End and he couldn’t hire me. My heart seized. I could think of only one reason Blake would call me on a random Saturday afternoon in the middle of July.

“JJ, I have to take it.”

“Why?”

“It’s important.”

“Obviously. Tell me why.”

“Play The Game already!” Sione called. “I’m not getting any younger.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd. JJ grabbed his short stack, his hand poised to whip through it. It would start The Game, and I’d be obligated to play or lose. The third ring rippled through a tense silence. Voicemail would pick up soon.

“I can’t tell you why it’s important,” I said, swallowing. “Just … just trust me.”

“It’s Mark calling you, isn’t it? You set it up to be a different name so you could somehow rig the deck.” He leaned forward. “Nice try. Really. You almost had me there.”

“Finish him off!” Sione raised his fist in the air. “Beat JJ. Beat JJ. Beat JJ.”

The rest of the staff echoed the cry, stomping their feet and pounding their fists on the tables. My stomach twisted as the ringing stopped. Despite the ruckus, the room felt empty without the phone warbling. My tense shoulders eased, although my mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

Could Blake hire me?

“Pick up your cards.” JJ nodded toward my pile. “Let’s finish this off.”

My hand trembled as it hovered over the deck. The phone beeped. A voicemail. I itched to answer but turned my attention to The Game. You can do this, Meg, I thought. Just focus. Ten more minutes of playing and I’d secure my victory. Then I’d call Blake back.

I dropped a heavy hand on the deck.

“Begin.”

The cards flew out of our hands. I stacked, moved, arranged, and watched the cards disappear onto the table, racking up points. Every card mattered. Five minutes into the hand, we hit a plateau. JJ’s eyes flicked from my hand to his as he moved through his deck. I bit my bottom lip. There had to be something. I had one card left. Victory was—

My phone buzzed with a text.

A message flashed across the screen. Call me ASAP. For a second, my life hung suspended in the balance. Adventura seemed to pause. I thought of work. Of late nights. Early mornings. Doctors. Alcohol swabs. Feeling good about myself at the end of a shift. August 10th. Credit card collection phone calls. The sweet little townhouse I’d purchased last fall.

With a sigh, I turned my whole attention back to The Game.

One minute later, the stalemate ended when I tossed down a seven of diamonds. With two lightning-quick moves, I closed The Game. JJ leaned back, sucking on his teeth. We still had to tally the points. If JJ had thrown out more cards than me, he could still win. My heart pounded.

“Ready, Megara?” JJ asked, eyes glimmering.

“Are you?”

The staff seemed to be holding their breaths as we separated the cards. To secure the win, we both counted our stacks out loud.

“Twenty-five,” JJ said, smirking. “Beat that.”

Respectable. I’d have to have twenty-six. My fingers whirred through the cards as the staff counted out loud as one. When I neared twenty, I felt my pile thinning down. Would it be enough?

“Twenty-three … twenty-four … twenty-five … twenty-six!”

My hands raised in victory, and a wild cry erupted from the staff. Sione banged the table with his fists. Mark recorded the moment on his phone. In the background, someone cracked open a bottle of sparkling cider. JJ grinned, a lopsided smile on his face.

“I concede the crown is yours.” He held up his hands. “You are the Master of The Game.”

“Thanks!” I said, wrapping him in a hug. Then I threw down my cards, snatched the phone from the table, and disappeared outside, leaving the celebration behind me.

•••

My feet seemed to be tied together as I scurried away from the lodge, the call ringing in my ear. I found my footing and speed-walked to my cabin. The quiet of the forest struck me as odd after the hours of excited noise. Seconds later, I heard Blake’s voice crackling through the phone.

“Meg?”

“Hey, Blake,” I said with forced ease, clutching the phone with white-knuckled fingers. “Can you hear me?”

“A little distant, but yeah. I can make you out.”

“Good! Sorry I missed your call, but I just got your text.” I swallowed the heavy lump in my throat, affecting the best nonchalance I could manage. “What’s up?”

“Feels like it’s been forever since you were poking around work, trying to find a job like a lost puppy.” He chortled.

“Ha,” I said with a little laugh. “You miss it. Is that why you’re calling? Do you have a job for me?”

As if I actually felt so nonchalant about it.

“Yes, actually,” he said. “If you want it.”

The world stopped spinning. All my concentration focused on those words. This couldn’t be real. Not mere days after losing the other position. Not at West End. At home. Where everything could tie up in a big, fat bow and fit together so nicely.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“In the flight department?”

“Well, I’m certainly not about to hire you for the pediatric unit.”

I sank to the edge of my bed, my knees weak. Although I’d spent the last fifteen minutes hoping his phone call would mean this, I could hardly believe it. Return to all the people I knew at West End? Work on the helicopter? Achieve all my goals? And make great money in the meantime? I leaped to my feet to pace across the cabin. Nothing came this easy. There had to be a catch.

“I’m intrigued. Tell me more,” I said.

“One of our guys was injured in a car accident and will be out. Possibly for a long time. We need someone to fill his spot immediately.”

The list of other qualified applicants at West End ran through my mind. Blake had half a dozen other nurses that had salivated over the job just like me, all of them internal. Would I even have a chance? My hope faded. This hadn’t been about a job after all. He just wanted me to apply.

“And you want me to apply?” I asked, my shoulders slumping.

“Nope. I want to hire you.”

“But … I thought…”

“That I couldn’t hire you because you’re an outside hire?”

“Yes.”

“I pulled some strings and called in some favors. You know I wouldn’t work on a weekend if I didn’t have to. This would help me out a lot. I can’t pull from other units on such short notice—not with a staffing shortage like this.”

My breath caught. How could I say no? “You’re serious about this, Blake?”

“Dead serious.”

“When do you need me?”

“Today. Tomorrow. Monday at the latest. We have to get you trained and ready to go, so we’ll be tight with staffing in the meantime.”

My eyes screwed shut. I balled my hands into a fist. No. No. No. This isn’t happening!

I cleared my throat. “Uh … that may be a small problem. I’m not in town. And I can’t just leave right now.”

“Where are you?”

“In the mountains. I’m working for my brother this summer as the camp nurse and chef.”

Blake blew out a heavy breath. “Okay, well … when can you be here? Like two days?”

“The ninth of August.”

“That’s weeks away!”

The flame of hope flickered a little. I swallowed. “I know. There’s still three weeks of camp left.”

“And you can’t leave?”

“Well … no.”

“What would happen if you did?”

What would happen if I left Adventura? Would they have to close it down? Mom could be a nurse here for a few weeks, I imagined. Couldn’t she? Or Mark could call one of his thousands of friends to fill in, surely. It didn’t even have to be a nurse. An EMT. A paramedic. Anyone with a pulse and a certification or license could do this job.

“I’m not sure,” I said.

An awkward tension rose between us.

“Listen, Meg, this is a big deal. I need you.”

Anxiety surged through my chest, making it difficult to breathe. “I know, Blake. I appreciate it. It’s just—can I have some time to think about it? How long until you need an answer?”

“Oookay. Tomorrow, I guess? I can give you twenty-four hours to decide. Not a minute later. If I don’t hear from you by 4:30 tomorrow, I’m going to my number two.”

“Okay. Okay, great. I’ll have an answer for you by then. Thank you so much.”

My nails bit into my palm when I gripped a handful of hair in my fist and closed my eyes, praying he didn’t tell me to stuff it and hang up. The pause that ensued grated on my nerves. I wanted to reach through the phone and shake him.

“Megan, I get that extenuating circumstances are at work here, but I put a lot of footwork into this approval. If you can’t make it happen…”

His trailing pause froze my heart into a ball of ice. Would failing to accept break ties permanently with the West End Flight Team? Blake and his crew were my people. We had pumped chests and saved lives together in the CICU already. Working with them as an actual flight colleague would mean everything to me.

“Got it,” I said. “Thanks, Blake.”

He hung up after a curt farewell. I let the phone drop to my sleeping bag as I buried my face in my pillow.

What was I going to do?

•••

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