“Thank you, ma’am. I’m glad to work for MedEx Couriers. This is a wonderful opportunity.”
Smiling, Penelope walks us through to the back, chatting easily about the orders today. Bear checks IDs, signs their log and confirms temperatures. I watch how he operates. His movements are quick and precise. He double checks seals. When she mentions a delayed shipment, he adjusts the route out loud, already recalculating.
“She’ll handle the paperwork?” the woman asks, glancing at me.
Bear looks at me, rather than answering for me. I speak up. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do everything my brother and Bear do.”
“You’re Rick’s sister?” she says brightly. Looking me over, she adds, “I should have seen the family resemblance.”
Something about her overt approval warms me from the inside out.
Back in the truck, Bear hands me the clipboard. “See if you can figure out how to log this one.”
I look over the page, filling in all the parts that make sense and asking about the one space I can’t figure out.
Bear carefully explains what goes in that space and checks it over once I’m done. “You did good, Natalie,” he says as he hands it back. In that moment, I begin to realize that this job might not be all that hard.
The next stop is at a small compounding pharmacy tucked between a nail salon and a closed bookstore. The pharmacist greets Bear by name. He asks about a regular client before looking through the crate of meds.
“Fred’s waiting,” the man says. “The IV antibiotics need to stay cold.”
Bear nods. “Is it packed in dry ice, right?”
“Yes. I packed it myself.”
We load a white insulated container into the truck and Bear secures it with more care than the weight alone would warrant. I watch the way he handles it, like he how valuable that medication is, and there might not be more where this came from if it’s a special order.
On the drive, he explains the delivery. “Fred is homebound. He has to take an IV infusion every eight hours for a persistent bone infection. Missing one sets him back days.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility,” I say.
He nods once. “Yeah, we have people’s lives in our hands. We can’t afford to drop the ball.”
When we arrive at Fred’s house, it’s modest, clean and quiet. A man in his forties answers the door, pale but smiling.
“Right on time,” he says when he sees Bear. Relief washes over his face.
Bear steps aside so I can hand over the clipboard. “This is Natalie. She’s joining our delivery team.”
The man looks at me, then back at Bear. “Good. You and Rick have been running yourself ragged to keep the deliveries flowing.”
Bear glances at me briefly, then back to the delivery. “Don’t you worry about getting your meds delivered. We’ll keep you stocked.”
Inside I watch Bear remind Fred about keeping the medication refrigerated. They talk for a few moments. And Bear listens and jokes around with his lively customer. He waits for the conversation to die down before moving on.
When we’re back in the truck, my hands shake just a little as I write the notes.
“Are you okay?” Bear asks.
“Yes,” I say honestly. “I just didn’t realize there would be so much customer contact.”
“Most people don’t like to talk very long,” he says. “Fred loves to talk because he doesn’t get a lot of visitors.”
The afternoon stretches out with one delivery after another. People know Bear’s name and trust him with the meds that keep them alive. With each stop, he explains the details of each case. He’s got it all memorized in his head.
At one house, an older woman opens the door with suspicion etched deep into her face. When she sees Bear, her eyes widen and she jerks back.
Bear stops immediately, steps back, keeping his hands open at his sides. “MedEx Courier,” he says gently. “I’ve got your insulin.”
