Tara carried Bo’s briefcase toward room 223 inside the hospital. She’d left the two bigger bags at her house, thinking he wouldn’t need them just yet. She knocked and opened his door. A man and woman stood near Bo’s bed and Tara saw the resemblance immediately. Though Bo was taller, he shared his dad’s broad shoulders and muscular build, and his mother’s sandy curls. “Hi, I’m Tara. You must be Bo’s parents. I think I spoke with your daughter on the phone.”
The man smiled and stuck out a hand. “I’m Barrett. This is Sylvia.”
“Nice to meet you.” Tara shook both their hands, then went to Bo. “Hey. I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake. I brought your briefcase and your cell in case—” His gray pallor cut off her words. “What’s wrong?”
“Nerve block wore off.” He rasped.
Tara grabbed the remote from his hand and saw the nurse call button was lit. “Has anyone been in since you got here?” she asked his parents.
“No,” Barrett said, looking alarmed. “Should I go get someone?”
“Bo, how long since you pushed the call button?”
“Ten minutes.”
She pressed her lips together. Someone should have come right away, knowing his pain would spike into the stratosphere after this kind of surgery. “I’ll be right back.” Tara jogged to the nurse’s station and found it empty. She hurried down the hall until she came to a nurse who was just stepping out of another room. “Excuse me. Mr. Michaels in 223 needs pain meds right now. Do you know where his nurse is?”
“Oh.” He glanced at his watch. “Sharla just left because she was ill. Her replacement isn’t in yet.”
“His nerve block is wearing off. He pressed his call button ten minutes ago.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Tara returned to Bo’s room. “Someone is coming.”
Bo blinked, his features etched with pain.
She patted his hand. “You’re hurting. Do you want me to come back later?”
He shook his head, closed his hand around hers. The vulnerable gesture tugged at her heart. Tara turned to his parents, faking a cheerfulness she didn’t feel. “When did you arrive?”
“About half an hour ago,” Barrett answered.
A young woman came in and flashed a broad smile. “Tara?”
Tara smiled, once more seeing a likeness to Bo.
“I’m Jill. We spoke on the phone.” She gave Tara a hug. “I’m so glad you called. We haven’t seen Bo in forever.”
Bo’s mother looked at the floor and his father gazed steadily at Bo, projecting an emotion Tara couldn’t discern. Worry? Regret? The nurse came in and Tara squeezed Bo’s hand. “I’ll give you some privacy.” His family followed her into the hall.
Jill touched Tara’s arm. “How’d you make it out without being hurt? Well, except for your cheek.” Everything Jill said had a certain unbridled enthusiasm. Tara took an immediate liking to her.
“Oh, we weren’t together. I saw the accident.” Tara told them what happened. Except for the part about Bo knocking her in the face. “I live in Pine View. Last weekend, Bo stopped in for a haircut at the salon where I work. That’s how we met.”
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Sylvia crossed herself. “You’re his guardian angel.”
Bo’s dad shot Tara a quizzical look. “So ... you’re a hair stylist that moonlights as a medic?” A subtle grin crept over his face. Slightly crooked like Bo’s. His eyes crinkled in the corners.
Tara chuckled. “I’m in nursing school.”
Sylvia’s hand went to her breast. “You were in the right place at the right time. A divine appointment. That’s what I call it.”
Tara shrugged. “Could be.”
“How can we ever thank you?” Sylvia wrapped her in a hug.
Tara smiled. “I think you just did.” She hadn’t been hugged like that since Gram passed. It felt really good. The nurse exited Bo’s room and Tara approached him. “How is he?”
“It could take several hours for the meds to catch up with the pain. It’s going to be rough.”
Tara sighed. “Do you mind if I speak with Bo for a minute?” she asked Barrett.
“Not at all.”
She went to Bo’s bedside.
His brows pulled together, his color was still off. “How’d it get so bad so fast?”
“I don’t know. Anesthesia’s different for everyone. But they should have told you what to expect.” Tara grimaced, picked up his hand.
He sighed heavily. “Someone tried. I blew her off.”
Tara wondered at that, but didn’t think it would help to pursue it. “I used your phone to contact your family. I hope that was okay. I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“It was about time we had a visit.” He spoke through gritted teeth.
She wondered how long it had been and what kept them apart. If she knew where her parents were ... Well, she liked to think her childhood fantasies were still a possibility. “I’m sorry you’re hurting.” Tara caressed his hand with her thumb. “I’m free for a few hours. Do you need me to do anything?”
“Will you call my assistant, Mindy?” Bo winced. “She’s in my cell.”
“Sure. Do you want everyone in here? It’s going to be rough while you’re chasing the pain.”
“I should have listened to the nurse.” He groaned. “Will you ask my mom to come in?” His eyes clamped shut.
Tara released his hand. “Sure.” She grabbed his cell phone and left. After Sylvia went in, Tara headed to the waiting area and dialed Mindy.
“Bo? Where are you?” The woman on the other end of the phone sounded frantic.
“Mindy?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“My name is Tara Jones. Bo asked me to call. He was in a car accident yesterday.”
Mindy gasped. “Oh no! Is he okay? Oh, he couldn’t be or he’d be calling me himself. Where is he? How is he?” It came out as one long sentence.
“He’s in Tahoe Forest Hospital. He’s stable now, but he sustained a serious injury. He had emergency surgery yesterday.”
“Oh my goodness!”
Before Mindy launched into another round of questions, Tara gave her the short version. “He should be feeling better in a day or two. By the way, at the time of the accident, Bo mentioned a meeting in Reno. It sounded important.”
“It was. I’ll let Mr. Blake know what happened. We’ve all been so worried. Thank you for calling.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Um, Tara, there’s something Bo needs to know. The timing is terrible, but it can’t be helped.”
Tara ran a hand through her hair. “What is it?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow. My husband was transferred to Houston. We just found out yesterday and we leave in a week. I have so much to do, I couldn’t give any notice at work. I need you to tell Bo. And ... tell him I’m sorry.”
“I’ll let him know.” Tara had no idea what the repercussions would be, but she was sure of one thing—now was not the time to tell him. She returned to Bo’s room. His mom had moved a chair next to his bed and she sat reading a book. Tara tiptoed to the bed and he opened his eyes.
“Did you reach her?”
“I did. She said she’ll call Mr. Blake.”
Bo stared at the ceiling. Tara saw frustration in his eyes, but didn’t want to pry. She set his cell phone on the table. “I think I’ll head out now.”
Bo’s mom stood and gave Tara another hug, which felt as good as the first one.
“I’m not far away.” She wrote down her number, passed it to Sylvia. “Call if you need anything.”
Tara stopped by the mailbox when she got home. Once inside, she flipped through the pile. Junk, junk, utility bill, Nevada County Assessor’s Office. Tara’s breath caught when she saw Final Notice stamped in red. She’d known this was coming but that didn’t make it any better. Her fingers fumbled as she opened the envelope and read the tax bill. Just shy of four thousand dollars had been due November first. Over a month ago. Her grandparents had left a small trust to cover the property taxes but it had run out the previous year. A hot rush of anxiety swept through her. With no way to pay it, she’d pushed the problem from her mind, forged ahead and focused on school. The solution—more income—was at least six months away.
Tara trudged to the front room and stared out the window. When she added her car repair debt to the tally, her shoulders sagged. After wallowing for a minute, she rubbed the fog from her breath off the window pane and went to make dinner. The doorbell rang just as Tara slid a pan into the oven. She went to the foyer, switched on the front porch light and immediately wished she hadn’t. Sal waved.“What do you want?” Tara said.
“I came to say I’m sorry.” He lifted a vase of red roses so she could see it.
A chill crept through her and she folded her arms. “Sorry for what?”
“I should have talked to you before I did the work. And ... that other thing. I shouldn’t have suggested—”
“Your apology is enough. There’s no need for flowers. How much do I owe you? For the car, I mean.”
“Will you please open the door?” he pleaded.
Tara opened it a crack.
“Can I come in and talk to you?” Sal’s big brown eyes pleaded with her, his long silky lashes supporting his cause.
Tara’s head throbbed and her stomach growled. “No. Did you bring the invoice?” Even if she had the money, she wouldn’t give him a dime until he gave her the bill. Knowing Sal, he’d screw with the numbers and drag this thing out.
“These are for you. A peace offering.” Sal stepped forward and held out the vase. Tara lacked the courage to refuse him, but taking the vase meant she gave up her grip on the door. Despite her brave front, her heart sped up.
His hands went into his pockets, which did nothing to offset the ground he’d usurped. Tara retreated a half-step. He could force his way in if that was his plan. Why had she opened the door? She’d made this mistake once before. The memory replayed now, making her shudder.
“The bill’s at the shop.” Sal’s voice pulled her back from the cliff. “I came over to talk to you. What are you so busy with?” The last sentence sounded playful, like he was flirting. He surprised her when he took a step back.
Tara’s mouth was dry. But his modest withdrawal gave her a small shot of courage. “I need to know what I owe you.”
“Tara, don’t be like this.” His voice was light, cajoling, as though they were a couple having a minor tiff.
“Answer my question.”
“Seven eighty-two.”
Though it was what she expected, the weight of owing Sal that much money nearly crushed her. Tara forced out enough air to make her voice strong. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll talk to Earline and see if I can work more over the break.”
“No hurry.”
Right. Tara didn’t want to be entangled with this man for one second longer than she had to be.
“Where were you today?” he asked.
Her skin prickled. Had he stopped by? Tara recalled how he’d known exactly what time she would leave for school the other day. “Once I get the invoice, I’ll mail you what I can. I don’t know how long it will take, but I promise to pay you, Sal. Every penny.”
“I’m not here about payment, Tara.” He got the same look in his eye that he’d had when he’d offered her a hundred bucks for the horizontal tango.
Game over. Tara squared her shoulders. “Just so there’s no confusion.” She foisted the vase back into Sal’s big hands. “Don’t bring me flowers. Don’t ask me out. And don’t you dare offer an alternative form of payment. I’ll pay you as soon as I can.” His eyes glittered with rage and her courage evaporated. She backed away, slamming and locking the door. When she got to the kitchen, she rounded the corner and sank to the floor.
After she recovered, she gulped down her dinner. Then she headed to the salon, where Ricardo, who dressed all in black and wore a thin chevron mustache and a tiny triangle of whiskers in the center of his chin, taught her the proper way to shave a man’s face. The new shaving process was the male equivalent of a facial. For a brief moment, it made Tara wish for a face full of whiskers so she could lay back in that big, comfy chair and be fussed over. Just not by the effusive, overly demonstrative Ricardo.
When the training concluded, Earline announced that the price of a shave would triple so she could recoup her capital investment. Tara worried how her elderly clients would take the news. The cherry on top of the horrible day came when Earline informed her there wasn’t enough work to warrant putting Tara on the schedule for any additional days during the break.