Sherry faced him squarely, her hands on her slim hips. “You turn white as Wonder Bread every time you stand up and totter around on those crutches. You most certainly cannot take care of yourself. How are you going to look after those kids? They move faster than the speed of light.”
“I’ll manage.”
“How will you cook for them?”
“That’s what a microwave is for. It couldn’t be any worse than—” He stopped himself, but she already knew what he was going to say.
“I got the message. You hate my cooking.”
“It’s a bit spicy. We’re used to more basic fare. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you for the time you’ve been here, plus a few days extra for the trouble you went to.”
“I can do better. All you have to do is tell me when you don’t like something, and I’ll…” her voice trailed off when she realized Jonathan wasn’t going to budge. She slumped in defeat. “All right, then. I’ll just finish cleaning up in here, then I’ll pack my things.”
“Leave the mess. I have a service that comes every two weeks. They’ll be here Monday morning.”
She slowly set down the plastic cup she’d been holding. She stared at him a moment, eyes challenging, but only for a moment. Then she swept from the room.
He’d made her cry, he realized. He hadn’t intended to be harsh. He just wanted her gone. Surely even she could see that this wasn’t a compatible employer-employee relationship.
Chapter Four
Sherry waited until she reached the safety of her room before she let the tears fly. How could she have read the situation so wrong? She’d thought everything was going pretty well. She’d thought having the wedding reception here was a stroke of genius. She’d thought inviting the choir to sing here would cheer Jonathan up. Lord knew his mood needed improvement.
But she’d been completely off the mark.
What was wrong with her? Jonathan’s words echoed in her head as she hastily packed her clothes. You don’t fit in here. That was what the office manager at her last job had said when she’d fired Sherry. Too flamboyant. Too colorful. Too loud for a prestigious medical practice. Later, she’d overheard one of the other nurses describe Sherry, using the word “cheap.”
Though the criticisms had hurt, Sherry had eventually been able to dismiss them. Dr. Crossly’s office was a snobbish operation where patients felt privileged to be overcharged, and the nurses were valued for their family connections over their medical skills. She’d even convinced herself that those drab nurses she worked with had been jealous of her natural charm and had conspired to get rid of her.
Now she was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t a grain of truth in the criticisms. Was her trailer-trash upbringing so apparent? She liked to think of herself as stylish. She pored over fashion magazines, then haunted discount stores and designer outlets, recreating the outfits, following the dos and don’ts. Maybe her personal style wasn’t just a bit colorful, but loud and trashy?
What would she have to look like to “fit in” in Jonathan’s world? Thinking back to the wedding guests, she recalled several who’d worn bright colors and high heels. Some had even worn hats. So it wasn’t her clothes that set her apart.
If it wasn’t her clothes, it must be her behavior. Did she laugh too loud? Talk too much?
Oh, well, what did it matter? She was leaving Cottonwood and she’d probably never set foot within the town limits again.
Sherry changed out of her dress-up clothes and into comfortable leggings and a long sweater for the drive home. When everything else was packed, she started hauling her bags to the front door. Jonathan, still ensconced in his chair, hid behind his book and pretended he didn’t see her.
She was on her third trip when Sam entered the living room. “Dad? Kristin has a stomachache.”
“I’m not surprised,” Jonathan said in a grumpy voice. “She must have eaten four pieces of cake and I don’t know how much punch she drank.”
“She says it really hurts.”
“Get her some Pepto-Bismol. It’s in the medicine chest in my bathroom.”
“I’ll check on her,” Sherry said automatically.
Jonathan gave her a dark look. “I think you’ve done enough.”
Sherry ignored him and headed for Kristin’s bedRoom. Fired or not, she wasn’t going to ignore a child in pain, especially if it was her fault.
When she entered Kristin’s room, the sight that greeted her was disturbing to say the least. Kristin lay on the bed, still in her fancy dress, holding her stomach and moaning softly.
Sherry sat on the edge of her bed. “Kristin?”
“It hurts,” Kristin said, almost in tears.
“I’m going to do what I can to make it better, okay?” She felt the little girl’s forehead. It was hot to the touch. She turned to Sam, who was watching anxiously. “Sam, can you get me a thermometer?”
He nodded and bolted out of the room to do her bidding.
Sherry gently palpated Kristin’s stomach and abdomen, and almost immediately found the source of the pain. The child had a hot appendix, Sherry would stake her life on it. She’d seen dozens of similar cases when she’d worked in emergency medicine.
“Hate to tell you, punkin’, but you’re going to the hospital.”
Kristin started crying in earnest. “I hate the hospital. All they do is stick you with needles.”
“I know, sweetie, but they only do it so you can get well.” Pushed by adrenaline, Sherry lifted Kristin into her arms and carried her to the living room.
Jonathan, thank God, grasped the urgency of the situation immediately. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Her appendix. I’m taking her to the hospital. Where’s the closest one?”
“Tyler. Out Highway 60, north. When you reach Tyler, turn left at the first light. Hospital’s about half a mile on the right.”
Sherry listened as she grabbed her purse and her keys, somehow juggling everything and Kristin, too. “Got it. Call ahead and let them know I’m coming. Tell them it’s urgent.”
“Okay. Jeff or my dad will meet you there.”
“Right. Sam, you stay here and take care of your dad.”
Sam, whose face had gone white, nodded.
Less than a minute later, Sherry strapped Kristin into the passenger seat of the Firebird, hit the gas and zoomed down the driveway. She could have called an ambulance, but she’d been afraid that out in the country medical help would take too long to arrive. She, on the other hand, had a fast car and the nerve to give it the gas.
“You’ve been to the hospital before?” Sherry asked Kristin, hoping to distract her from the pain.
She nodded miserably. “Cut my head—had to have an operation.”
“Oh, that doesn’t sound like much fun. How did it happen?”
“I was jumping on the bed…fell off.”
Sherry had seen her share of those types of accidents. In fact, she’d been one of them. The infamous bike accident. Except she hadn’t been riding a bike. Her father had broken a chair over her head when as a teenager she’d told him she was pregnant. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on her past mistakes or the child she’d given up. She had a child in the here and now who needed her full attention.
Sherry had no trouble finding