Rachel
Carnitas grease drips down my fingers to my wrists and plop-plop-plops on the paper wrapper. Happiness is crispy pork in a corn tortilla with all the fixings. “Mona is the best,” I moan.
Gina rubs her belly. “She is. I’m glad she feels sorry for us working today.” She steals one of my chips and dips it in my queso. “Why did you take Nicolette’s shift? Aren’t your sisters here?”
I choke on the bite I’m trying to swallow.
“You volunteered?” Jackson asks around a mouthful of lime cilantro rice.
“It’s no big deal. I know Nicolette wanted to be home with her baby.”
“When do Danielle and Laura get in?”
“They canceled at the last minute. Making a little extra holiday pay is better than sitting around my house.” Being lonely and depressed.
Jeremiah leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Where are your sisters?”
“One’s in Monterey, and the other went with her boyfriend to Savannah to meet his parents.”
“Is it just the three of you?”
“Since Granny T died, yeah.”
Gina steals another chip. “Your grandma was a kick. You could never trust her playing cards.”
“Cheating was her specialty.”
Jeremiah’s eyebrow twitches. “You were going to be alone on Thanksgiving?”
“Yeah.” We already covered that. Why’s he hung up on it?
He stares at me. “You worked Labor Day too.”
“So?” I drag my queso closer to me before Gina can dip again. She’s a notorious thief.
Jeremiah balls up his wrapper. “How many holidays did you work this year?”
“I don’t know. My share.”
“You were here on Easter and Fourth of July too.” Gina grabs another chip.
“Why are you making a big deal about this? I love my job.”
“No one loves their job that much.” Gina’s crunch echoes in the break room.
“I do.” I do love my job. I love helping people and being busy.
Jeremiah pushes away from the table. “Rachel, can I talk to you in the hall for a second?”
“I’m eating.” If I leave my queso unattended, Gina will devour it before I get back. And I’m not comfortable with the intensity vibrating off Jeremiah’s shoulders.
“Hallway. Now.” He turns and stalks out of the room.
Gina raises her eyebrow and shrugs. Jackson swallows heavily. “You should go with him.”
“I don’t want to.” I sound like a scared little kid confronted by the monster under my bed.
“He’ll just come back and scowl more,” Jackson says.
Ugh. I liked Jeremiah better when I hated him. I snatch my queso and the bag of chips and bring them with me. Jeremiah stands outside his call room door. “Inside, please.”
He said hallway, so I lean against the doorframe instead. “What’s the deal with you right now?”
“I want to talk to you alone.”
“About what?”
He pushes me through the doorway. “Things.”
“When did you lose your eloquent control of the English language?”
He clicks the door behind him and leans against it. I sit on the desk and proceed to savor my chips and queso while I wait for whatever this is.
“I need you to explain something to me.”
I crunch a chip. “What?”
“You have worked every major holiday since I started here.”
Have I? And how does he know that? Is he cataloging my shifts? “Where’s your question?”
“Why do you work so much?”
“Because I like my job, and I need the money.”
“For what?”
“Student loans. I’m sure you know all about those. Medical school isn’t cheap either.”
He crosses the room in three steps. The edge of his coat rubs against my knees. “I think you’re hiding.”
I cross my legs, forcing him back a step to save the family jewels. “What leads you to that conclusion?”
“Holidays are hardest on people who don’t have anyone to celebrate with. They try to fill their loneliness with ED visits for abdominal pain, sticking their arms in sharks’ mouths, or”—his eyebrow twitches—“working too much.”
The chip in my fingers shatters. “Are you comparing me to Mrs. Cavanaugh and Jake?”
“It fits.”
I shove his chest and stand. It doesn’t have the desired effect since it makes me shorter than when I was sitting on the desk, but the movement gives the illusion that I’m more threatening than I really am. “You don’t know anything about me. And what gives you the right to be judgmental?”
He tips his head, and his eyes develop a softness that stirs my belly with uninvited heat. “You don’t have to be alone.”
“I’m not alone. My patients need me.”
“That’s not the same as surrounding yourself with people who love you.”
Ha! No way. We are not going there. “What do you know about it?”
“Tell me about your parents. What were their names?”
“Gees, Crumb Bum, you just can’t take no for an answer, can you?” I don’t want him to pry into my personal life. Remembering them, today of all days, is too hard. It’s better to be busy and distracted than for this ache to spread and fester in my chest. I miss them too much to talk about them.
“What happened, Rachel?”
“They died.” A tear catches on my eyelashes.
Jeremiah’s basketball-sized hands slide along my jaw. “How?”
His stubbornness gets the better of me. “Cancer.”
“Both of them?”
“My mom had breast cancer. It stole her in three months, and my dad followed.”
“When?”
“April 2 and 30. Thirteen years ago.” Wow. Has it already been that long? You’d think after thirteen years, I would have finally gotten over missing them, but like I told Jackson, the pain never goes away.
Jeremiah wraps his arms around me and presses my face to his chest. “I got you.”
“He loved her so much. Thanksgiving was their favorite holiday.”
“Tell me about it.” His fingers run through my hair and up and down my back. It feels amazing to be held. He gives a good hug.
“They didn’t agree on the December holidays, so mom always went all out for Thanksgiving. Turkey, stuffing, potatoes, green bean casserole, cranberry sauce, pie. She cooked everything from scratch.” A hard sob hits me and my snot and tears mix on Jeremiah’s shirt, but he doesn’t pull away. His arms tighten, and I think he brushes his lips across my temple. “I hate Thanksgiving.”
I feel his laughter against my cheek. “I don’t believe you. Telling yourself that makes it easier to get through the day, doesn’t it?”
“She was the best cook. Danielle and Laura were too young to remember the best parts.”
“You want them here to honor your parents. It’s easier when you’re together.”
“How’d you know?”
“Jackson and I want my brother and Iris here too.” He sighs, ruffling my hair. “And as much as I don’t like Iris’s parents, Jackson needs that connection to his mom.”
“Poor Jackson.”
Jeremiah rubs slow circles along the back of my neck. “He needs to spend more time with you. Knowing someone else has survived a kid’s worst nightmare helps him more than you know.”
“I can do that.” I lift my head and look at his handsome face. “What about you? What happened to your parents?”
“They died while I was in college. They didn’t get married until later in life. Caspian and I were surprises. It was just their time.” He squeezes me again. “Thanks for asking.”
We stand in his call room, slowly swaying as my breathing and heart rate calm. Mascara stains his shirt, but neither of us cares. He smells like rubbing alcohol and sandalwood.
He tips my chin to rest on his chest. “Hey, Rach?”
“Yeah?”
He bends slightly. His eyes search my face, from my eyes to my lips and back again. “I never hated you.” He runs his tongue along his top lip.
My fingers bunch into his scrub top and I press up on my toes.
“Trauma code nine. Five minutes. Trauma code nine. Five minutes.”