Just Right: The Bradfords, Book 1 Page 9

  And he would have taken her to bed a long, long time ago.

  Ben took in the details of the rooms they were walking through with only a fraction of his concentration on the center and the rest on the woman beside him.

  The large room was filled with three ping-pong tables, two pool tables, four TVs complete with Nintendo game systems and a multitude of mismatched tables, chairs and couches. The wall opposite of where they stood was painted bright yellow with black letters across it that read, “When we treat man as he is, we make him worse than he is; when we treat him as if he already were what he potentially could be, we make him what he should be.” Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

  The wall to their right was a pale green and said, “…to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.” Ralph Waldo Emerson.

  Finally, the words, “Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest,” Mark Twain, ran across the bright blue wall to the left.

  Ben smiled. This was where Jessica spent most of her time outside of work. He could tell the place was like a second home by the way she straightened things as they passed, the way she walked around things without needing to look to avoid bumping into them, and the way she seemed while she was here. There was pride and contentment on her face. She was comfortable here, relaxed, at home. He liked it. A lot.

  He grabbed her elbow and spun her around, pulling her against his chest. He loved the way her breath caught as his lips came within centimeters of hers.

  “Have I ever told you that you’re the best nurse I’ve ever worked with?”

  Her eyes went wide. “No.”

  “Working with you for the past six months should have taught me that you can turn me on just by being in the same room. But evidently it’s not limited to the hospital. Part of the turn-on is how much you love your work there. The same is true here, I guess.”

  Which was something he hadn’t realized until right then.

  Her passion and competency were as exciting to him as her red thong. Because he could relate to her, could feed off of her energy in the ER, could share the exhilaration and burdens that came with their jobs. He respected her immensely. Which made the fact that he wanted to do all kinds of dirty things to her…different. And more confusing, because he didn’t intend to have anything about the ER in common with anyone anymore.

  “You turn me on with anything that excites you. Like the arcade. Now this place.”

  Wow, he was in big trouble. Because what he said was true. Anything that made Jessica’s eyes sparkle was going to make him want her even more.

  Her cheeks got pink with his words. “I do love the ER. But this is…” She turned her head to survey the room and Ben reluctantly released her. “This is…so big,” she said, stepping back and sweeping her arm wide. “I mean, there are lots of ERs. But there is only one Bradford Center.”

  “Does it matter so much because of the center itself, or because of your dad?” he asked, truly curious.

  She didn’t answer him directly. “I don’t remember a time in my life when my dad wasn’t working on this center.”

  “You spend so much time down here because you want to carry on his work?” Ben asked.

  Jessica nodded.

  “Did he ask you to?” Ben asked. He supposed he should be more sensitive but he wanted to know about her and it was easier to jump right in.

  She met his eyes again. “He didn’t have the chance.” Tears sparkled in her eyes before she focused on his shoulder instead of his face. She shook her head. “He wouldn’t have asked, anyway.”

  That made no sense. Jessica was perfect for being in charge, taking a vision and making it huge. “Why?” Might as well dig in deep as long as he was digging.

  Jessica took a deep breath. “I spent a lot of time doing things for myself before he died.” Her chin went up. “In fact, I didn’t do anything for anyone else, unless it benefited me. I wouldn’t have been a very good choice to run the center back then.”

  She seemed serious. Ben had an incredibly hard time believing any of it.

  “You were selfish?”

  “That’s one adjective my father used,” she agreed.

  “Give me two more.”

  “How about three more? Like defiant, cynical, obstinate.”

  Ben chuckled. He couldn’t put those words in the same thought with Jessica.

  “I—” she started and he found himself holding his breath.

  “Jessica! They’re here!”

  Sara’s voice interrupted. She glanced at the doors leading back toward the office, where Sara had just poked her head through. “Um, they need us.”

  “Need us?” Ben asked.

  “Come on.” Jessica was already jogging across the rec room.

  They met Sara outside of her office and she opened her mouth to say something, but the double doors at the end of the main hallway banged open. The sound of the metal door handles hitting the concrete wall echoed through the hall, followed immediately by the chaotic sound of multiple voices all taking at once. Eight teenagers stumbled through the wide doorway. Two of them carried a kid she knew only as David.

  Jess knew the moment Ben saw the blood because he surged around her toward the boy, his instincts obviously moving him. The confusion wouldn’t slow him down. He was used to the ER.

  “What happened?” he demanded as he tried to touch David’s bleeding face.

  The two who held David up looked at Jessica and one asked, “Who’s this guy?” She put a hand on Ben’s arm to stall him.

  “He’s out,” Corey, one of the boys, told her grimly. “Only lasted six minutes.”

  “Take him to the rec room,” she said.

  “What the hell…” Ben started.

  “You can help,” she said, starting off behind the boys. “I’ll need sutures, Sara.”

  Her sister went for the supplies and the other kids followed Jess and Ben down the hall.

  “He was in a fight,” Jess told Ben as they walked, trying to keep the explanation simple for now.

  “Evidently,” he said dryly.

  The guys laid the unconscious boy on one of the couches.

  “I’d guess he lost,” Ben added.

  “Third time this month,” she said, moving in to examine David’s face.

  Ben was right beside her.

  David’s lip was cut on top and bottom and he had a laceration along his cheekbone as if a ring had cut him. Rings or other jewelry were illegal in the fights but there weren’t exactly referees either. One of David’s eyes was blackening over the spot that had barely begun to heal from the week before. And David was indeed out cold.

  “You don’t seem surprised by this,” Ben commented as he took the first aid supplies from Sara and pulled on rubber gloves, then started cleaning the wounds as Jess felt for any fractures along his jaw and cheeks.

  “It’s why I had to be here tonight. Tuesdays and Thursdays are fight nights.” She found no broken bones so took the gauze pads from Ben and handed him the suture kit. “Here, you’re the surgeon.”

  He refused it for a moment, quickly doing his own exam including blood pressure check and listening to David’s heart and lungs with the stethoscope Jess had included in their box of supplies. “You’re sure there’re no other injuries?” he asked, looping the stethoscope around his neck.

  Jess was struck by how great he looked with it on. In charge, confident, commanding. She glanced at the other teenagers. “Anything else go on?”

  They all shook their heads. “It was only six minutes,” Mario said. “I think he was still hurting from last week. He looked terrible.”

  Jess turned back to Ben. “Guess not. They’re not supposed to hit below the belt.”

  “They watched?” Ben asked, gesturing with his chin toward the boys.

  She nodded. “We always have people there. Mario pays close attention.”

  Ben looked like she was speaking a foreign language to him. He looked over
at Mario. “He didn’t take any shots in the stomach or ribs?”

  “One or two,” Mario reported. “But that’s not what knocked him down. It was his head.”

  Mario had been involved with the fighting as more than a spectator in the past. He knew what to watch for and what could happen. Nobody stayed down long before Mario and his buddies picked them up and brought them in.

  Still, Ben sighed. “One or two.” He lifted David’s shirt and examined his ribs and abdomen. “Okay,” he said finally satisfied with the assessment. “I’ll stitch him up while you explain.”

  Jess agreed, but this was so hard. She wasn’t sure why she’d thought bringing Ben here was a good idea. Part of it was because this place was so important to her and because she thought he would understand, or at least accept it.

  “These fights have been going on for a couple of years. The boys meet downtown at an abandoned building. We’re here to patch them up afterward.”

  “You don’t try to stop it?” Ben asked, his voice angry.

  “That’s not our role. We send people to bring them back when they’re hurt. We try to recruit them, though. We’ve gotten a few.”

  “Recruit them?”

  “To the center, to come here instead and be a part of this group. To find other ways of fitting in.”

  “Is it a gang thing?” Ben asked as he applied perfect stitches to David’s cheek with ease.

  “Dammit!”

  Jess and Ben both jumped.

  “Why’s it gotta be a gang thing?” Mario was glowering at Ben. “All us losers don’t have anything better to do than fight?”

  “Mario,” Jess tried to interject. “He doesn’t…”

  “So what’s the story?” Ben asked, meeting Mario’s stern glare directly and not looking even slightly apologetic.

  Jess knew that Mario would respect that Ben didn’t back step. But the seventeen-year-old was tough and would defend his friends, and himself, to anyone.

  “They are fighting for something,” Mario said. “They need something. They’re proving something. But they’re doing it the wrong way.” Mario rose from the arm of the couch. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a gang, or that they’re all delinquents.”

  Jess couldn’t help but smile at the boy who, at one time, had been here for similar stitches.

  “And do they ever prove whatever it is?” Ben asked, unblinking.

  Mario and Ben stared at each other for a long moment and Jess had to wonder what kind of male ego competition was going on.

  Finally, Mario said, “Not this way.”

  “So, what happens?” Ben returned to the stitches on David’s head.

  “They keep trying.” Mario watched him work on the boy. “Or they realize there are better ways.”

  Ben finished the stitches and sat back. He glanced up at Mario. “Ways like what?”

  “Like here.” Mario straightened and propped his hands on his hips, challenging Ben to question or disagree.

  Jess hid her smile this time. Mario was tough. There was no doubt about it. But he was no longer violent. He had a quick mind and a sharp tongue and could easily hold his own with those weapons alone. He also knew exactly who he was and what he wanted and no one was going to be able to argue with him or convince him of anything different from what he knew. And Mario knew that this center was the best place for him and the other kids who came here.

  Ben rocked back on his heels and then stood. He faced Mario squarely.

  Jess prayed that he wouldn’t say anything that would offend Mario or the rest of the boys. He was a smart man. She could see that he admired the way the boys brought David in and he admired Mario’s confidence. But she wanted Mario to see that. She wanted the boy to trust Ben. He could use a man like Ben to look up to.

  Unfortunately, Mario went on the defensive easily. He was fiercely loyal once he let someone close, but it took a lot to earn his trust.

  “You used to fight?” Ben asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Money mostly.”

  Ben frowned. “Money?”

  “The rich kids place bets on the fights and pay the winners.”

  Ben shook his head in disgust. He looked at Jess. “I don’t suppose the authorities know?”

  “The best way to stop it is to convince the fighters that they don’t want to do it anymore,” she said calmly. She’d been through all the emotions that Ben was feeling. But she had to pick the battles that she could win. One kid at a time.

  Ben stripped off his gloves in a brisk, angry movement. “Does that work?”

  “Ask Mario.” She gestured to the other boys in the room. “Or Brian. Or Tony.”

  Ben’s glanced at the boys sitting and standing around the room. They all met his eye confidently.

  “They were all fighters?” he asked.

  “Yes, and now they’re all here,” she said proudly.

  “And even without those three, they’re still having fights,” Ben said.

  “But they’re not.”

  Now she was the one to meet Ben’s eyes confidently.

  “You can’t save them all like that,” Ben said angrily.

  “But the ones we do save are worth it.”

  Jess looked at the boys on the couch again. Her heart filled. They were good kids. They’d taught her as much or more than she’d taught them. They needed someone to tell them they could do more than fight, that they were worthy of praise regardless of the outcomes of the battles they faced…all the battles. Jessica knew it was her role to be their cheerleader. She believed in every one of them.

  “It’s like the ER,” she said, turning her eyes back to Ben. “We can’t, and don’t, save them all. But we still show up every day and the ones we do save are worth it.”

  Something flashed in Ben’s eyes and Jessica knew that he was thinking about Ted Blake. The man who Ben did not feel had been worth his efforts. Jessica held her breath, waiting for him to say it. But he didn’t.

  “And what about him?” Ben asked, gesturing toward David, instead.

  “We’ll keep trying,” Mario said.

  Ben turned. “Why?”

  Mario shrugged. “We don’t have anything to lose.”

  “We’re another option for him,” Jess added. “But he’ll have to ultimately make the choice.”

  “And the next time he fights?” Ben asked.

  Jess frowned at the pessimistic comment. “Maybe tonight will be the last time.”

  “And if it’s not?” Ben pressed.

  “Then we’ll be here to fix him up.”

  Ben shook his head. “Doesn’t it get discouraging?”

  “Sure,” Jess admitted. “But the one thing most of these kids have in common is that no one has ever showed them that they are worth the effort. We’re giving that effort.”

  Having seen that David was patched up and safe for the time being, the kids had started to disperse around the room. One television was turned to a movie, four boys racked balls up on a pool table and three girls took over a table covered with scrapbooking materials for the baby book they were making for Sophie, the pregnant sixteen-year-old.

  Ben sighed. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  Jess didn’t like that. Ben was supposed to be the kind of guy who would jump into something like this wholeheartedly.

  “Want to get something to eat?” Ben asked.

  Jess shook her head. “I told Sara I’d stay until seven when Mac gets here.”

  He looked around. “I’ll wait.”

  “You don’t have to.” But she wanted him to.

  “I know.” He looked around and stretched. “What will you do until then? Stitch more up?”

  “If they need it.”

  “If not?”

  “Play basketball, talk, help with homework, stuff like that.”

  “Is that what I should do?”

  Her eyes found Sophie at the table of girls laughing and talking as they glued the scrapbook together. “
I might have a better idea.”

  Ben’s eyes followed hers to the beautiful young girl who was, unmistakably, very pregnant.

  He looked back at Jess, both eyebrows up. “You want me to deliver a baby?”

  Jess smiled. “Not tonight. I hope. But it’d be great if you could talk to her about the pregnancy, make sure she knows how important it is to take care of herself, things like that.”

  “Can’t you talk to her about the pregnancy?” Ben asked, obviously not thrilled with the request.

  “You’re the doctor,” she said simply.

  “I’m not an obstetrician.”

  “Surely they covered pregnancy and delivery in medical school,” she said stubbornly. “What happens if you’re stuck in an elevator or a taxi with a woman in labor?”

  “You want me to talk to her about having her baby in an elevator?” he asked, his tone mild.

  Jess smiled. “As long as you include how important her prenatal vitamins are you can talk to her about whatever you want.”

  “I could tell her how to remove a gall bladder, but I’m not sure about contractions and such,” Ben said. “What if I tell her something that’s wrong?”

  He needed to put more vulnerability into his voice if he wanted her to believe that he was worried. Instead, it sounded like nothing more than an excuse. A weak excuse.

  Jess could tell he’d already resigned himself to doing it, but she went along.

  “You won’t,” she told him.

  “You put a lot of faith in me.”

  “More than you do in yourself, evidently.”

  He frowned. “And you’re pushy.”

  Jess shrugged. “So I’ve been told.”

  “Give me one good reason to do this.”

  “It’s your moral and professional responsibility as a physician.”

  “Try again.”

  Jess frowned now, frustrated with the reminders of his sudden lack of dedication. “Because you have the initials M.D. after your name and that carries more weight than anything I can tell her.”

  “Even if it’s the same stuff?”