stood. "I'll go work."
"I'll
check on you in a couple of hours and we can do your toe exercises." She
leaned her hip against the cupboard.
He
never answered her, but kept crutching out of the room. She turned and gazed
out the window to the pool in the distance. What would cause Trace to feel
uncomfortable in the place he called home?
Everything
about him showed how proud he was of his heritage. He kept the stories, the
pride continuing in his life even though he'd separated himself. She shook her
head. It really wasn't any of her business.
If
she was going to make a career out of being a nurse, she needed to learn how to
distance herself from her patients' private lives. She drained the rest of her
coffee in the sink, placed the mug in the dishwasher, and headed to her room.
Chapter Eight
Joan
stood in front of the counter at the front office of the private clinic where
Trace had his doctor's appointment. "Excuse me, could you tell me where I
can find the list for the job openings that are available?"
"Of
course." The woman stood and pointed to her left. "Go out this door,
turn right, and take the first elevators down to the basement floor. Once the
doors open, follow the hallway down to the cafeteria. You should see a green
bulletin board on the right side before the double doors. You'll find
everything you need there. If not, come back and I can find someone to help
you."
"Thank
you very much." She stepped over to Brody's side. "I'll be right
back. If Trace comes out early, go ahead and take him to the truck and I'll
meet you there. I don't want to make him sit in here waiting for me."
He
gave her hand a squeeze. "Good luck."
She
followed the woman's directions and found her way to the basement. Running her finger
down the list, she sagged in disappointment. Even the jobs she was over
qualified for were now filled and unavailable. Figures.
Every
nurse wanted to work in a private practice. The hours were shorter and the
benefits bigger than those offered at the two county hospitals in the area. It
was a long shot to think she could attain a job here. In the health care
business, she expected to start at the bottom and work her way up the ladder
like everyone else and that meant going to the county hospitals and nursing
homes.
Deciding
to take the stairs back up to the office, she used the extra time to convince
herself not to let her disappointment ruin her day. She still had time to
acquire full time employment. Her job taking care of Trace wasn't over yet.
She
opened the door to the third floor, cut across the plush carpeted hallway to
suite 305, and found Brody pushing Trace across the waiting room in a
wheelchair. She hurried forward, glancing from Trace to Brody. Her patient did
not look like he received good news from the doctor.
"Everything's
fine. They removed his cast, took his stitches out, and said his fracture was
healing better than expected considering it's the second time he's broken that
leg." Brody pushed Trace toward the elevator. "They also put on a new
cast. The doctor said to tell you to keep following the schedule for his care."
"That's
great news. The new cast will make his leg feel more secure, since we've got
the swelling down and the old one was too loose." She fell into step
behind the wheelchair and whispered to Brody, "Why's he mad?"
"He
hates going to the doctor." Brody didn't bother lowering his voice.
"Shut
the hell up, Brody." Trace held up his hand. "Give me the damn
crutches, so I can get out of this chair."
Brody
ignored him. "Wait until we get down to the front door. I don't want the
nurse who brought you out to the waiting room to come after me. She looked
scary."
They
rode the elevator in silence. Once outside, Joan handed Trace his crutches and
walked behind him to the truck in case he lost his balance in the parking lot.
She shouldn't have worried though, because he'd stormed out of there and seated
himself in the truck in no time.
Brody
started the engine and
"I'll
check on you in a couple of hours and we can do your toe exercises." She
leaned her hip against the cupboard.
He
never answered her, but kept crutching out of the room. She turned and gazed
out the window to the pool in the distance. What would cause Trace to feel
uncomfortable in the place he called home?
Everything
about him showed how proud he was of his heritage. He kept the stories, the
pride continuing in his life even though he'd separated himself. She shook her
head. It really wasn't any of her business.
If
she was going to make a career out of being a nurse, she needed to learn how to
distance herself from her patients' private lives. She drained the rest of her
coffee in the sink, placed the mug in the dishwasher, and headed to her room.
Chapter Eight
Joan
stood in front of the counter at the front office of the private clinic where
Trace had his doctor's appointment. "Excuse me, could you tell me where I
can find the list for the job openings that are available?"
"Of
course." The woman stood and pointed to her left. "Go out this door,
turn right, and take the first elevators down to the basement floor. Once the
doors open, follow the hallway down to the cafeteria. You should see a green
bulletin board on the right side before the double doors. You'll find
everything you need there. If not, come back and I can find someone to help
you."
"Thank
you very much." She stepped over to Brody's side. "I'll be right
back. If Trace comes out early, go ahead and take him to the truck and I'll
meet you there. I don't want to make him sit in here waiting for me."
He
gave her hand a squeeze. "Good luck."
She
followed the woman's directions and found her way to the basement. Running her finger
down the list, she sagged in disappointment. Even the jobs she was over
qualified for were now filled and unavailable. Figures.
Every
nurse wanted to work in a private practice. The hours were shorter and the
benefits bigger than those offered at the two county hospitals in the area. It
was a long shot to think she could attain a job here. In the health care
business, she expected to start at the bottom and work her way up the ladder
like everyone else and that meant going to the county hospitals and nursing
homes.
Deciding
to take the stairs back up to the office, she used the extra time to convince
herself not to let her disappointment ruin her day. She still had time to
acquire full time employment. Her job taking care of Trace wasn't over yet.
She
opened the door to the third floor, cut across the plush carpeted hallway to
suite 305, and found Brody pushing Trace across the waiting room in a
wheelchair. She hurried forward, glancing from Trace to Brody. Her patient did
not look like he received good news from the doctor.
"Everything's
fine. They removed his cast, took his stitches out, and said his fracture was
healing better than expected considering it's the second time he's broken that
leg." Brody pushed Trace toward the elevator. "They also put on a new
cast. The doctor said to tell you to keep following the schedule for his care."
"That's
great news. The new cast will make his leg feel more secure, since we've got
the swelling down and the old one was too loose." She fell into step
behind the wheelchair and whispered to Brody, "Why's he mad?"
"He
hates going to the doctor." Brody didn't bother lowering his voice.
"Shut
the hell up, Brody." Trace held up his hand. "Give me the damn
crutches, so I can get out of this chair."
Brody
ignored him. "Wait until we get down to the front door. I don't want the
nurse who brought you out to the waiting room to come after me. She looked
scary."
They
rode the elevator in silence. Once outside, Joan handed Trace his crutches and
walked behind him to the truck in case he lost his balance in the parking lot.
She shouldn't have worried though, because he'd stormed out of there and seated
himself in the truck in no time.
Brody
started the engine and
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