Not Quite Enough (Not Quite #3)(20)
Author: Catherine Bybee

When his hand dropped, she released a breath she didn’t realize she held, and fled up the stairs.

Chapter Eight

Silence came in two categories, quiet and painful, or quiet and comfortable. How she and Trent had gone from comfortably quiet to get-me-the-hell-out-of-this-car quiet, Monica would never know. The way Trent gripped the steering wheel told her he was just as ready to have her out of his space.

Monica reduced herself to closing her eyes and acting as if she was trying to rest the final miles to the clinic. Her heart started to skip as they rounded the last corner and the now familiar town came into view. More people were milling about and there were Jamaican police combing the rubble with dogs. The chances of finding anyone alive at this point would be minimal, but that didn’t stop the collective effort of those still searching for their loved ones.

Trent slowed the Jeep and Monica unhooked her seat belt in hopes of a quick getaway.

“I really appreciate the bed and ability to duck out of here last night.” She did, despite how uncomfortable she was now.

“No problem.” He stopped his car, put it in park.

She reached for the handle to open the door, and gathered her backpack in the other hand. “Thanks for everything, Trent. It’s been a pleasure knowing you.”

A wave of confusion marred his brow. “I’ll come by later—”

Monica forced a smile to her lips. “No, it’s not necessary. Walt said there was more help coming today.” And if you come back I might not push you away next time. “But thanks… for everything.”

Then she fled, not willing to hear him say good-bye.

Monica congratulated herself for not running. Still, she made it inside the clinic, stowed her backpack, and went in search of a familiar face.

Dr. Eddy had gone back to the main hospital with a critical patient, and in his place, Tina came to help. She’d driven with the medics, using the time to sleep.

Monica rushed into the job, and pushed Trent from her mind. What was done was done. Thinking about him, or what might have been, would be a waste of energy.

The day reached temperatures into the high eighties and the humidity was unbearable, but the misery was in the smell. Monica placed a mask over her face and encouraged the patients and family members alike to wear one. Between the dead that were too many to count, and the lack of sanitation in most of the structures, disease was going to be the next immediate problem.

Dr. Eddy had left her orders to start taking antibiotics as a preventative measure. Monica had had her share of scares after treating patients back home, but this felt different.

Several hours into her day, Monica managed a few minutes of a break. She slipped out the back and found the shade of a tree.

When her mind started to picture Trent, she cursed herself and picked up her phone.

Jessie answered on the second ring. “Mo?”

“Hey, Jessie.”

“Oh, God… I’ve been so worried. The news is showing… oh hell, I don’t have to tell you. How are you? Is it awful?”

Monica listened to her sister ramble and understood her concerns. “I’m fine,” she lied. “And it’s worse than awful. These poor people have lost nearly everything. They’re filling the streets and sleeping next to the ruins of their homes. It’s chaos.”

“I can’t believe you’re there.”

“Someone has to be.”

There was an audible sigh on the other end of the line. “I’m proud of you, Mo.”

“Oh, stop.”

“No, really. You’ve done something with your life and really made a difference. I don’t tell you enough how proud I am of you.”

Monica stared at her feet and felt her cheeks heat. “Thanks, Jessie. So, how is everything there? How’s Danny?”

Jessie bent her ear for several minutes about a mother-and-son dance Danny had taken her to. Complete with cowboy hats and boots. His attire of choice since Jessie married.

Monica attempted to laugh at her sister’s antics with her son, but as much as she loved hearing her sister, Monica was having a hard time concentrating. She kept wondering where Trent was. Was he thinking about her? Would she see him again?

“Mo?”

Was he flying? Was he sitting on his porch watching the waves with Ginger?

“Monica?”

“Yeah?”

Jessie paused. “Are you OK? You don’t sound yourself.”

“I’m fine. A little tired, but fine.”

Maybe it was the distance, or maybe Monica was a better actress than she gave herself credit, but Jessie accepted her excuse and continued for a little while.

“… oh, and Jack should be there tomorrow. Do you have any idea how much longer you’ll be there?”

“Wait? What? Jack’s coming?”

“Haven’t you heard a thing I’ve said? There is a Morrison on the island. He’ll only be there overnight, to show support and offer the hotel’s help to those affected.”

Monica didn’t even consider that Jack and his family would own one of the hotels on the island. But they were the Morrisons, for God’s sake. Of course they owned a hotel on the island.

“I don’t know how much longer we’ll be here. It seems like there’s more than enough work to keep me busy for a month.”

“You’re not staying that long, are you?”

“I wouldn’t have a job to go back to if I did that. But we haven’t even discussed when we’re pulling out yet.” It would be a few more days at least. Even Monica knew that a relief effort was exactly that… an effort. She couldn’t stay on permanently. Already the locals were coming in asking her what she could do about their homeless status. As if Monica could help with that.

“You can always fly home with Jack if you wanted to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll pull out when the team pulls out.”

Jessie sighed again. “Be careful, Mo.”

“Aren’t I always?” In fact, Monica had always been the most careful person in their collective lives. Oh, she would advocate a reckless act, but she never once truly jumped off any metaphoric cliff.

Sensible Monica. She set her mind on a goal and achieved it.

Always.

Like making sure Trent knew he wasn’t needed.

Done.

And now… where was he?

“I love you, Monica.”

“Love you too, Jessie.”

After she hung up, Monica sat staring at two birds building a nest. Numbness seeped into her veins and made her back teeth grind.