Diner Girl(5)

Jennifer laughed. He had a corny sense of humor, but it was growing on her. She looked out the window again, only this time she rested her hip against the ledge.

“You must be completely dead on your feet. Please, come sit down.” He motioned to the flowery pink couch.

Turning away from the window she walked over. She sat and clasped her hands across her knees. “I really can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done tonight.”

Mark sat in the chair across from her and almost as an afterthought stood again. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, I’m fine. No, actually, yes, I’d love something to drink. Not drink, though, I mean, water. I’d love a glass of water, please.”

He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head at her dizzying answer. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here,” she said, closing her eyes.

“You know,” he called from the other room, “it’s actually more convenient for me to stay here at my grandmother’s than to drive home every night. I’m a doctor at New Hope Hospital, so it’s really not bad, at all. Did you say you were new here?” He brought her glass of water back into the living room only to find her passed out, sitting up on the couch.

With her eyes closed she looked adorable. Little wisps of that red hair had escaped from the confines of her ponytail and curled softly around the nape of her neck. The warmth of the apartment, or perhaps the sheer exhaustion, had left her cheeks pink. Her eyes had dark purple circles, making it unmistakable that she needed more sleep.

Sitting down, he watched her for a few moments. With the soft hint of smile lines around her lips, Jennifer seemed more at peace as she slept than he remembered feeling in a long time. Being a doctor had its perks, but unfortunately being at peace could not be counted as one of them.

New Hope held the distinction of having the best hospital in the region. But because of that recognition, the hospital stayed busier than most. Some people referred to it as “The Tracks.” Leaving the hospital in one direction a person could head into one of the most outrageously wealthy areas of the city. The opposite direction, skid row. Ruth lived on the skid row side of town. Mark had tried to convince her to move, repeatedly, in fact. But her stubborn streak ran deep. This was her home; she wasn’t budging.

Not that Mark had a right to push. More and more lately he wondered whether he’d ever even wanted to be a doctor. This didn’t feel like his dream. He wanted children, a family; nights where he could sleep without being wakened by his pager.

He set the glass down on the end table and pulled a blanket from the back of the couch to lay over her. She sighed but didn’t stir. He took a pillow from one of the armchairs and set it behind her head. Her arm curled around his and she pulled him in. Mark felt the tickle of her hair against his nose as he unwound himself.

Fatigue washed over him, leaving him groggy and drained. It’d been a very long day already, and even before Jennifer woke him with the intercom all he’d wanted was the warmth of a bed. He hated feeling this way; that lightheaded, almost drunken feeling of too little sleep. Stumbling to the bed in the back room of the apartment, he kicked off his shoes then wiggled under the sheet.

As his head hit the pillow he thought about Jennifer asleep on the couch. In spite of the drunken feeling of no sleep, he imagined her curled up beside him, her head on the crook of his arm. His lips turned upward with the thought of her nestled against him. Reaching over, he turned off the bedside lamp and closed his eyes. Then he remembered Sophie.

And became sober in a heartbeat.

Sitting up again, worry crept through him. Sophie was Ruth’s cat, and she hadn’t run to the door when he’d come back with Jennifer. For that matter, he didn’t remember seeing her anywhere since they’d gotten back from the diner. Ruth would be more than devastated if anything happened, and in fact Sophie was the only reason she even asked him to apartment-sit in the first place.

Mark struggled his way back out from beneath the sheets, resolving to find the impudent cat that would keep him from getting the rest he so richly deserved. He swore softly under his breath as he rubbed his eyes and tried not to think of the last time he actually slept. That would have been his undoing.

“Sophie,” he called softly around the bedroom. Maybe this would go fast, and she would just be curled up in a corner.

It did not.

Ten minutes later, Mark stood gloved, hatted and ready to search outside the building.

The falling snow ebbed as he called for Sophie from the front steps. She wouldn’t answer; the cat didn’t even like him. But if he didn’t try, he would never get past the guilt of letting Ruth down. He rounded the corner to see if Sophie was in the alley and found a woman curled up next to the dumpster instead. A couple of newspapers were all that separated her from the sleet and snow. Mark’s heart skipped a beat. In the ER he’d seen his share of homeless die from exposure; the frigid temperatures and fast-changing weather left many of them completely exposed.