Page 6

CHAPTER SIX

NEW ROUTINE

JAX

“ W ake up, Dad!” A small voice calls through the fog of sleep and a weight lands right on my chest as two little hands cup my cheeks. Opening my eyes, I prop myself up on my elbows, meeting the bright blue eyes of my youngest, perched on my chest. Her blonde curls stick out in every direction, and the neck of her sleep shirt – one of my old baseball tee shirts – hangs off of her shoulder, and she is wide eyed with excitement. I grab her around the waist and draw her against my chest, pressing kisses to her cheeks as she giggles. It’s not long before we’re joined by a bleary-eyed, less enthusiastic Mackenzie who crawls under the covers beside me and buries her head in the pillows.

“Alright,” I throw the covers off of Mackenzie, and gently move Alice to the floor. “You girls go get dressed, and I’ll start breakfast, okay?”

Alice scampers off down the hall to her room, and Mackenzie follows slowly, wrapped in the blanket that she stole off my bed. As I listen to the sounds of my girls getting ready for school, I’m thankful once again for Nate and Erin’s understanding. Today is my first day with new hours and no on-call responsibility. There’s a freedom in my morning that I haven't had in a long time; I’m not passing the girls off to a family member before going to work, and relying on family to be here when they come home. It’s all me. All dad. And I can’t wait.

Before I start on breakfast for the girls, I work on a pot of coffee. Mackenzie comes by her morning surliness very naturally, and coffee is the only thing that helps me with Alice and the enthusiasm with which she approaches every aspect of her life. As the coffee brews I start scrambling eggs and frying bacon, and when Mackenzie joins me in the kitchen she loads the toaster with slices of bread.

“Do you want to buy your lunch today, or pack it?” I ask as she takes out plates and silverware for the three of us.

“Hmmm…” She thinks about it for a minute, before deciding. “I’ll pack.”

“I can pack it for you,” I offer.

“Nope. I’ll do it. Alice!” Mackenzie steps into the hallway and shouts for her sister. “Do you want me to pack your lunch?”

“Yes please!” Comes a response from down the hall.

Pulling the bacon from the pan to drain on paper towels, I kill the heat on the eggs and make my way down the hall to investigate what’s taking Alice so long to get ready. One step into her room, and I stop in my tracks – I knew what I’d find, but I still have to gather my patience to approach it.

The room is a mess. I know she’s capable of cleaning it, but keeping it clean and organized is another story. But I can’t worry about that right now. I find Alice standing in front of her dresser in a pair of jeans and her sleep shirt as she rifles through the drawer.

“What’s up, Kiddo?”

“I can’t find it.”

“Find what?”

“Aunt Nelope’s shirt.”

“I washed it yesterday, go look in the dryer.”

Alice takes off down the hall toward the laundry room in search of her On the Field shirt, and I follow, shutting her bedroom door behind me, blocking out the mess to deal with another time. Once everyone is dressed, I dish up breakfast and send the girls to the table to eat, while I finish packing their lunches. Mackenzie made them each a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that I bag up and tuck into each girl’s lunch box with carrot sticks for Alice, celery for Mackenzie, and a cookie from their grandpa for both of them.

“Juice box or water?” I ask, standing in front of the open fridge and looking over our options.

“Flavors?” Alice responds after tearing into a piece of bacon.

“Apple, grape, and…” There’s one juice box tucked all the way in the back of the fridge that I have to reach for. It’s probably been there for months, and I’m just now seeing it. “Orange.”

“Apple!” Alice calls.

“Grape!” Mackenzie echos.

I drop a juice box into each lunch box before sitting down at the table with my girls and my coffee. I don’t quite know what to do with myself if I’m not rushing around and getting for work, and I haven’t done the school morning thing in a long time, so I sit and listen to the girls talk about what they’re looking forward to in school, and soak up this time that I’m able to spend with them. With a few minutes to spare, we get shoes and backpacks on and I walk the girls down to their bus stop at the end of the road, and choke back a few tears when I watch them get onto the bus for the first time.

Mom and Dad usually handled this part, and I could separate myself from the actual act of them leaving for school. I knew they were going but I didn’t have to see them leave, and I knew that once they got there, their Grandma Elaine – Mrs. Owens, to them while at school – would keep a watchful eye on them. But as much as I don’t like seeing them leave, what's even worse is the silence of my house when I walk back inside to fix my own breakfast and get ready for work.

“How did this morning go?” Erin presses a cup of coffee into my hand when I walk into the office.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” my voice is thick with emotion as I think about putting the girls on the bus, and knowing that I have to do it again tomorrow. Nate claps me on the back, his expression a mixture of sympathy and mirth. “I hated every minute of it. I don’t love the feeling of that bus pulling away.”

“Imagine how you’re going to feel this afternoon when the bus pulls up and those girls come home.” Erin smiles before heading down to her own office.

“I’m ready, man. Putting them on the bus was somehow worse than being at work and knowing they’re at school. But I can’t wait until we’re all home together tonight.”

“I bet. Hey, I was going to save this until after staff meeting, but I made some phone calls. We’ve got a few candidates lined up to interview. A couple old friends of mine from medical school, one with ties to the area that I’m thinking might work out.”

“Sounds good,” I grab the files from the mailbox outside my door, “I’ve got a pretty light day today, and don’t start on-call hours until next week anyway, per our arrangement.”

“Right,” Nate grins, clearly proud of himself that I’m acknowledging the arrangement. “First interview is in about an hour. I’ll see you then.”

“I don’t do well at the sight of blood,” the newly minted Doctor Lambright sits across from us in the small conference room, his face awash in the harsh fluorescents overhead. “I fainted during my first birth.”

“Well, I’m sure we could keep you on gynecology instead of obstetrics if that’s what you’d prefer. You may be called in to assist with births at some point though.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “No births.”

“Okay…We’ll be in touch,” Erin’s voice is laced with sweetness as the young man walks out the door, closing it behind him.

“Not a good fit for us.”

“Nope,” Nate shakes his head and scratches Dr. Lambright off the list. “We need an OB that won’t pass out with every birth.”

“Speaking of, I’ve got a C-Section, and then I’m going to go grab lunch with my brother so I’ll see you both later.”

Once at the hospital, I change into scrubs and meet with my patient and her husband before scrubbing in and stepping into the operating room on the labor floor. Familiar nurses greet me as they join me in the OR, getting ready to bring this new little life into the world. It never gets old. The operation goes off without a hitch and soon I’m passing a healthy baby boy into the hands of his waiting parents. I scrub out and change back into my office clothes, throwing on my white coat as I step into the patient’s room to check on her before heading back to the office.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Hutchinson,” she doesn’t even look at me, the brand new bundle in her arms is the priority, and believe me, I get it.

“You’re very welcome. Congratulations to you both.”

It’s a quick drive from the hospital to the deli where James has our order waiting, and then on to the hardware store where I find my brother in the lumberyard helping to load a truck with lumber and supplies.

“How’d it go this morning?” James asks as we walk toward his office.

“Good. I’m more excited for the bus this afternoon though. Nate and Erin are sending me home early enough that I can have a snack ready for them before dinner.”

“About that,” James clears his throat and rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but Mom and Amanda have a meal planned for tonight. They wanted to bring it to you, don’t tell my wife I told you.”

“Why am I not surprised?” I laugh as I sit down beside my brother and start doling out our sandwiches. After a carefree and easy lunch with James, we clean up and I get ready to head back to the office, spying a shock of mahogany hair at the help desk on my way toward the front door, and no one around to help her. Stepping behind the desk, I’m greeted by a familiar face, patiently waiting and fidgeting with a piece of paper in her hand.

“Emma,” her gaze snaps to mine and she gives me a cautious smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Jax?” Her brow furrows for just a moment, “I thought you were a doctor? What are you doing here?”

Her face falls and she crumples the paper in her hand more than before, and shrinks in on herself. The change is subtle, but quick, and I’m not sure what brought it on, but I find myself wanting to know. Thankfully, Emma seems like a talker so I don’t have to ask.

“I’m so sorry. That’s none of my business. Don’t feel like you have to explain yourself.”

“That’s okay,” I gently still her fidgeting fingers and her eyes finally meet mine. “I am, in fact, a doctor, but my brother owns this place and I know enough about the store to be either really helpful or…incredibly chaotic. Is there something I can help you with before I head out?”

“Paint sticks.”

“Paint…sticks?”

“You know, this long,” she holds her hands apart from each other, “little indent on one end…paint sticks.”

“Lucky for you, I know right where to find those. Follow me.” I lead her over toward the paint department and step behind the counter, where a box of stirrers resides on the floor. “How many do you need?”

“Forty should be enough,” she starts to think out loud, muttering about classes and kids and growing legs and walking away. “So lets say forty.”

“I seem to remember you’re a librarian,” I comment, counting out forty paint sticks and laying them on the counter between us. “What do you need forty paint sticks for?’

“Shelf markers. The kids put them between the books on the shelf before they take out the book they want, and then they know where to put the book back if they decide they don’t want it.”

“Well then, Ms. Mitchell, consider this a donation from Owens Hardware.” Her cheeks turn a curious shade of pink as she gathers the paint sticks with a hurried thank you, and makes her way toward the front of the store, leaving me at the paint counter hoping I get to see her again. And gathering my courage to let James know that he just made a donation to the school.

No sooner does the clock strike two-thirty and Nate is in my office shooing me home for the day. I’m out the door as quick as my feet will carry me, getting home in time to have a snack ready, and then sitting at the bus stop until the bus pulls up. It’s such a small thing, but it’s the first time since Mackenzie started school that I’ve ever been here for the bus to drop the girls off, and I can’t wait to hear all about their day.