bit the corner of her lip. “Just a little. But maybe only to me.”
I rubbed an eyebrow.
“Well, if it’s any comfort,” she said, “I could never like a guy named Tanner.”
“Is that right?”
“Oh yeah. I don’t know what it is. My sister thinks it’s the greatest name ever given to a man. Me . . . It just makes me think of cowhide.”
I grinned. She ran a finger along the rim of her mug.
“What kind of tea do you have there?”
She looked in her mug and then took a long whiff. “Jasmine.”
“Your favorite now?”
“Maybe. Have you ever had jasmine tea?”
“I don’t think I have.”
“Here.” She held out her mug. “Smell this.”
I leaned forward and let its fragrance waft into me, feeling its humid warmth, smelling earth and blossoms and honey.
Naomi sat back. “Good stuff, huh?”
I nodded.
“Wait until you taste it.” She raised and lowered her eyebrows.
“Didn’t you used to like chamomile?”
She waved a hand. “I finally admitted to myself that it just makes your tongue go numb.” She nodded at my cup. “What’re you drinking?”
“A cappuccino. Ever had one?”
She pursed her lips and made a sound like an air hose.
I raised my espresso in a toast. “To tea at three.”
She clinked her mug against my cup. “Or four.”
U2 played in the background. The Joshua Tree . Naomi cocked her head, listening. “You ever feel like that?”
I recognized the song. “Like I’m ‘Running to Stand Still’?”
“Yeah.”
I thought of my dad, of living in a rental house for four years, of striving for the best I could be at my job only to have it threatened because I didn’t call on scene in five minutes and fifty-nine seconds. “All the time. How about you?”
“I used to.”
“But not anymore?”
She breathed in, glanced out the window, then shook her head and smiled. “No. Not anymore.”
“What changed?”
Something sparked in her eye. She sipped her tea. “I followed up on our patient Jeff last night.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Contused liver. Doing well in ICU.”
“Ah. That’s good to know.”
She nodded. “I heard about your scholarship. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“You should be proud. You’ve attained everything you wanted.”
Something like a vacuum opened inside me, a sucking black hole in the center of my gut. “Right. Yeah.” I swirled the espresso dregs in my cup. “How about you? Anything big on the horizon?”
She shook her head. “No. Which is just great. I love flying. Since some of the older nurses retired, I have a better pick of shifts. One weekend day off now. I read and garden. And take care of my mom.”
“You mentioned she had some health issues.”
“Leukemia.”
“I’m so sorry. How long have you known?”
“We found out this past year. She’s getting good treatment but she’s weak. We won’t know if it will be effective for a while yet.” She sat back. “I trade off with Natalie cooking for them a couple times a week. How’s your dad?”
I laughed. “Honestly, I’m not sure what he’d do on his own. But his sickness is far from acute. It’s more of the addictive, kill-yourself-slowly variety.”
She nodded and cupped her hands around her mug.
It reminded me of my mother sitting at the breakfast table, a peace permeating her person.
“So,” I said, “would I be wrong in thinking that you might know something about my patient, Simon Letell?”
She folded her arms. The relaxed Naomi I’d been watching shifted into Flight Nurse Foster. She looked toward the door. “I did hear his name mentioned at Aprisa a while back.”
“How long ago?”
“About six months, I think.” She stared at the floor, searching her memory. “I was in the billing office clearing up a misunderstanding on a chart. I think I’d filled out the wrong Medicare code or something. Spitzer and Shintao were in the next office having a heated discussion with the newest PR girl. Something about a guy and his multiple
I rubbed an eyebrow.
“Well, if it’s any comfort,” she said, “I could never like a guy named Tanner.”
“Is that right?”
“Oh yeah. I don’t know what it is. My sister thinks it’s the greatest name ever given to a man. Me . . . It just makes me think of cowhide.”
I grinned. She ran a finger along the rim of her mug.
“What kind of tea do you have there?”
She looked in her mug and then took a long whiff. “Jasmine.”
“Your favorite now?”
“Maybe. Have you ever had jasmine tea?”
“I don’t think I have.”
“Here.” She held out her mug. “Smell this.”
I leaned forward and let its fragrance waft into me, feeling its humid warmth, smelling earth and blossoms and honey.
Naomi sat back. “Good stuff, huh?”
I nodded.
“Wait until you taste it.” She raised and lowered her eyebrows.
“Didn’t you used to like chamomile?”
She waved a hand. “I finally admitted to myself that it just makes your tongue go numb.” She nodded at my cup. “What’re you drinking?”
“A cappuccino. Ever had one?”
She pursed her lips and made a sound like an air hose.
I raised my espresso in a toast. “To tea at three.”
She clinked her mug against my cup. “Or four.”
U2 played in the background. The Joshua Tree . Naomi cocked her head, listening. “You ever feel like that?”
I recognized the song. “Like I’m ‘Running to Stand Still’?”
“Yeah.”
I thought of my dad, of living in a rental house for four years, of striving for the best I could be at my job only to have it threatened because I didn’t call on scene in five minutes and fifty-nine seconds. “All the time. How about you?”
“I used to.”
“But not anymore?”
She breathed in, glanced out the window, then shook her head and smiled. “No. Not anymore.”
“What changed?”
Something sparked in her eye. She sipped her tea. “I followed up on our patient Jeff last night.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Contused liver. Doing well in ICU.”
“Ah. That’s good to know.”
She nodded. “I heard about your scholarship. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“You should be proud. You’ve attained everything you wanted.”
Something like a vacuum opened inside me, a sucking black hole in the center of my gut. “Right. Yeah.” I swirled the espresso dregs in my cup. “How about you? Anything big on the horizon?”
She shook her head. “No. Which is just great. I love flying. Since some of the older nurses retired, I have a better pick of shifts. One weekend day off now. I read and garden. And take care of my mom.”
“You mentioned she had some health issues.”
“Leukemia.”
“I’m so sorry. How long have you known?”
“We found out this past year. She’s getting good treatment but she’s weak. We won’t know if it will be effective for a while yet.” She sat back. “I trade off with Natalie cooking for them a couple times a week. How’s your dad?”
I laughed. “Honestly, I’m not sure what he’d do on his own. But his sickness is far from acute. It’s more of the addictive, kill-yourself-slowly variety.”
She nodded and cupped her hands around her mug.
It reminded me of my mother sitting at the breakfast table, a peace permeating her person.
“So,” I said, “would I be wrong in thinking that you might know something about my patient, Simon Letell?”
She folded her arms. The relaxed Naomi I’d been watching shifted into Flight Nurse Foster. She looked toward the door. “I did hear his name mentioned at Aprisa a while back.”
“How long ago?”
“About six months, I think.” She stared at the floor, searching her memory. “I was in the billing office clearing up a misunderstanding on a chart. I think I’d filled out the wrong Medicare code or something. Spitzer and Shintao were in the next office having a heated discussion with the newest PR girl. Something about a guy and his multiple
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