“You don’t remember?” Charlie sounded kind of disappointed.
Fern’s eyes were fixed on him. “Do you remember meeting Evie?”
“I sure do,” he said. “It was my first week at the hospital, and I was completely lost. Not literally, I mean, but in every other way. My supervisor needed to get an IV started on an elderly patient, but then he got called away so he told me to do it and disappeared. I’d never done an IV on a real person before. I couldn’t find a vein in this poor woman’s arm.”
Actually, Evie did remember. Charlie had been completely flustered.
“And then,” Charlie said, “Evie came into the patient’s room, like she just knew I was in over my head. She had this calm, confident way about her. I asked if she could help me and she walked me through the whole thing.”
Their eyes met and held, and Evie felt both shy and pleased. “Doctors don’t usually ask for help.”
Charlie rolled his eyes. “Most doctors don’t need help.”
“Not true,” Evie said. “Most of them do. You were just the first I’d ever worked with who was willing to ask. And now that I remember that moment, you did great.”
Charlie shook his head. “Only because of how you helped me. You didn’t make me feel stupid for not knowing how to do it properly.”
“Sounds to me,” Fern said, “like a pretty memorable way to meet someone.”
It was, but it wasn’t the first time Evie had met Charlie. That had happened a few days prior to the IV incident. Andthatwas far more memorable.
It was one of those perfect days of autumn. Evie was on her lunch break at the hospital, sitting outside under a tree, reading a book. Suddenly a dog dashed past her at full speed. She only noticed because the dog was wearing a white jacket.
A minute later, Charlie ran by, then stopped abruptly and approached her, panting hard, asking if she’d seen a golden retriever in a doctor’s coat. Apparently, he was a therapy dog gone rogue, he said. “It’s my first day on the pediatric ward and I thought the kids would relax around me if I brought him with me. Or maybe I thought I’d relax more.” He bent over to catch his breath, hands on his knees. “Either way, it was a terrible idea. Wren warned me not to do it, but I didn’t listen. She’s always right. That dog doesn’t want to be a therapy dog. He wants to be a greyhound. Before I could even start rounds, he broke free of his leash and flew down the hallway. All the nurses are mad at me.”
That was a lot of information to convey, most of it not necessary, but somehow endearing. Evie pointed in the direction the golden retriever had run.
“Thanks!” And Charlie took off running.
That was how they had first met. And just now, Evie realized it had included the first significant Wren reference. It kind of spoiled its memory for her.
“Did you ever think of becoming a doctor?” Fern said.
Evie’s thoughts jolted back to the table. “Who, me?” She shook her head. “Never. Too much schooling, too much money, too much everything.”
“You’d be a great doctor,” Charlie said. “You’re an incredible nurse.”
Blushing, she had to look away.Stop being so wonderful, she thought.Stop makingme feel so special.
Afterward, Charlie went to feed the animals and Evie offered to do the dishes so Fern could finish up a patch for a comfort quilt. Tomorrow, she was hosting a group of women to sew all the patches together. The comfort quilt was going to be raffled away in a fundraiser for a family who lost their barn to a fire. Of course, they had no insurance because they didn’t believe in relying on that. They relied on their community to help intimes of need. Just one of the many things Evie admired about the Plain people: They had each other’s back.
Through the window, Evie watched Charlie push a wheelbarrow full of hay toward the horse pasture. Just then, Wren appeared from the buggy shop, something clutched in her hand. Evie squinted—folders, maybe? Charlie parked the wheelbarrow as Wren reached him, and whatever they were discussing must have been pretty important, because Wren’s hands were doing that wild dance they did when she got really worked up. Charlie stood there, still as a statue, but you could tell he was locked in, listening like his life depended on it. Evie couldn’t help but wonder—what on earth were they talking about?
Fern came up behind her to gaze out the window. “You got quiet during supper.”
“Did I? It’s the heat, I suppose. Kind of takes a toll.”
Fern folded her thin arms over her chest. “When are you and that boy going to stop stealing glances and just tell each other how you feel?”
Evie nearly dropped the plate she was washing. “Fern, just look at those two!” Couldn’t she see? Charlie and Wren were so obviously ... enmeshed ... with each other.
Fern peered out the window, unimpressed. “The only thing I can see is that he looks for every opportunity to be around you. He shows up at the crack of dawn for coffee. He helps prepare dinner. He cleans up afterward.”
Evie shook her head. “It’s your good food that he wants, Fern.”
Fern sighed. “It’s not my cooking he’s after.”
Later that night, Evie tossed and turned in bed. The upstairs bedroom was like an oven. No breeze, even with the windows open. Just thick, stifling heat. She finally gave up on sleep. Wren was zonked out cold, so Evie slipped into her bathrobe and slippers and padded downstairs, desperate for some fresh air. The full moon bathed the farm in silver light, and stepping outsidefelt like a tonic. She heard a horse nicker and wandered over to the pasture. The horse trotted up to the fence, as if just as restless. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” she murmured, stroking his soft nose. “Too hot for us both.”
