Page 1 of Beneath Her Hands
1
Rosalind
Rosalind pulled in a deep breath as she walked through the automatic doors and into the main lobby of Phoenix Ridge Hospital. Despite the doctors, patients, and personnel, this hospital felt like it belonged to a different world than the one she was accustomed to; it was brighter, cleaner, well-stocked. The hospitals where she had served in the army were never this pristine. They were all shabby buildings with never enough supplies to service the constant onslaught of trauma. She blinked a few times in the bright lights. She could have chosen to serve in the nicer places, the first-world hospitals where research was driven, but as a trauma surgeon—and a damn good one at that—she had taken on the harder assignments. The ones where soldiers and civilians were bombarded with violence, and she had saved more lives than she could count.
Rosalind was proud of her service, but family and necessity had brought her back to Phoenix Ridge, the small city where she had been raised. Her father was sick, Alzheimer’s, and as though that wasn’t hard enough, her mother had always been pamperedby him. He had opened and ran several successful businesses in the city, and while they weren’t wealthy by any global standard, they did well for themselves. Her mother had never had to work a full-time job and spent all her time and energy on arts organizations and social clubs, something Rosalind had never seen the purpose of. But her mother had always been happy. Now, however, her mother was completely lost, having no experience or even an idea of how to take care of her ailing husband, who could barely recognize her anymore.
Rosalind looked around at the relatively small waiting room. It was all so clean and sterile. Granted, that was a good thing for a hospital, but far from what she was used to. There were worried family members sitting in the few chairs, but nothing like the devastation of the places she had spent most of her life. The cushioned chairs were almost luxurious, the shiny vending machines and coffee stations bright and inviting. It was almost overstimulating in all the wrong ways.
She headed to the main counter; all her interviews for the position here had been done over the phone and video conferences, this was her first time actually stepping foot in this hospital since she was seventeen and needed a physical to join the track team in high school. That had been almost thirty-five years ago. Rosalind straightened her shoulders and addressed the attendant at the counter.
“Hello, I’m looking for Doctor Mars?—”
“Oh! Hi!” The young woman cut her off. Her blond hair was cut in a perfectly asymmetrical bob, one side covering half of her forehead. Rosalind’s mouth snapped shut in irritation. “You must be Doctor Maxwell; Doctor Mars is expecting you.”
“I should think so,” Rosalind quipped, then clicked her teeth shut again. She forced herself to remember that this was not a war zone, civil tones and politeness were expected. Theattendant, Jessica Karlson, according to her badge, didn’t seem fazed.
“I knew your father,” Jessica gushed. “He was such a nice man. I’m so sorry to hear about his condition.”
“He is a great man,” Rosalind corrected. He wasn’t dead, damnit.
“He was always so nice to me and my family,” she continued, seemingly oblivious to Rosalind’s irritation. She flicked her hand in a gesture that seemed to adjust her perfectly placed hair, but nothing moved.
Rosalind nodded but didn’t answer; she was afraid of what she might say.
“And your reputation certainly precedes you,” Jessica continued. “Everyone’s excited to have an army hero working with us.” She flashed brilliantly white teeth in a smile.
“Thank you?” Rosalind furrowed her brows. She was genuinely unsure how to react to that statement. She never considered herself a hero, just someone who was good at what she does. There was nothing elegant or sophisticated about her work—she put people back together after being blown apart by violence and war. She worked fast, she worked hard, and she saved lives, that was it.
“Sorry, I’m gushing, it’s just a lot of excitement for our little city. Your parents are well known around here, and well, they’re quite proud of you,” she smiled again, and Rosalind softened a little. Working here was certainly going to take some adjustment. “Doctor Mars’ office is just down there, you can go on in.” Jessica gestured down a few doors and Rosalind followed her direction.
“Thank you,” she said with a nod and walked away. She fought the urge to shake her head. She understood small city life, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. The door to the office was open so she stepped inside. Doctor Josephine Mars sat atthe desk, her sandy hair streaked with gray and pulled into a tight twist on the back of her head. Her face was lined with age although she was probably only ten years older than Rosalind, but still bright and severe, someone who was used to being in charge, used to respect and compliance. Rosalind admired this about her; she’d seen the same expressions on the faces of many of her commanding officers. Though her features were sharp and angular, the lines around her mouth told Rosalind that she was also able to smile, and often. Across from her stood a slightly younger woman wearing red scrubs, short and stout, with short curly hair that floated around her head. Despite her stature, Rosalind could tell that she was also someone accustomed to being in charge, and as stern, if not more so, than Dr. Mars.
“Ah, Doctor Maxwell, it’s nice to finally see you,” Dr. Mars addressed her as she came into the room. “I want you to meet Kellie Hawthorne, our Head Nurse of the hospital.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Kellie said and put out her hand. Rosalind shook it, noting the firm grip.
“Good things, I hope,” Rosalind said with a forced smile.
“According to your father, you’re one of the best trauma surgeons to ever join the military,” Kellie said with a slight chuckle. “How’s he doing?”
“As well as can be expected,” Rosalind said. Everyone seeming to know her business was beginning to wear on her.
“That’s good to hear,” Kellie said with a nod. “He was very loved in this city.”
“Is,” Rosalind corrected. “He is very loved in this city, he’s still alive.”
“Of course,” Kellie frowned. Rosalind could see she was unused to being corrected. “I only meant it as a compliment.”
“It seems everyone is full of compliments; it feels like I am already attending his funeral,” Rosalind snapped.
“Well, I look forward to working with you,” Kellie said, her mouth tight. She turned on her heel and left the office. Rosalind turned her eyes toward Dr. Mars, who was still sitting, but her lips were pressed into a line and an eyebrow lifted at her.
“I apologize,” Rosalind said through gritted teeth. “It’s very unnerving that everyone here seems to know who I am and everything about my family when I haven’t seen or talked to any of these people in decades.”
“I understand,” Dr. Mars said and lifted her brows. “You have to remember, though, this is Phoenix Ridge, not a war torn village in the Middle East. We need to respect each other.”
“Shouldn’t that go both ways?” Rosalind asked. “Everyone being in my business feels intrusive.”
