Free Here and Again by Nicole R Dickson

station.
    “Doctors switch at six a.m.,” Margery said, reaching down to open a drawer. She lifted her handbag from within it and closed it again with her knee.
    “’Kay.”
    Turning to face Ginger, Margery squinted a little in the ER’s fluorescent lights. “Mr. Wolfe cannot have a candy bar.”
    “I know.” Ginger smiled again.
    Placing her handbag on her shoulder, Margery walked to the ER doors.
    “Has anyone talked to him about his drinking?” Ginger asked as she bent to unlock them.
    “Who?”
    “Jacob Esch.”
    “Oh, sure. But he’s Amish. You know. They reach sixteen and they’re allowed to go all wild. What’s the word?”
    Ginger knew what the nurse was talking about but didn’t know the word. She shook her head and opened the door.
    “Well, he must have lost his way. He’s eighteen and still drinking. Not even close to home. He’s a mess. Good night.”
    “Good night,” Ginger said.
    With the door wide-open and winter crawling in like a lost dog, Ginger watched the woman slip and slide across the empty parking lot until she reached her car. Then, when the headlights flipped on and the car slowly started forward, she shut the glass door against the night and bolted it tight. She shivered.
    “What in the world is Samuel thinking?” she muttered to the black beyond the door. He must have hitched a ride to get so far so fast, but why he wouldn’t get in her truck made no sense. Surely it was darker and colder than it had been when he’d climbed into the car that drove him to Oak Flat.
    Ginger stopped at Jacob’s side and checked his IV. The boy snored softly through his whiskey haze. He didn’t really look eighteen. His whiskers were yet soft as they grew in and his forehead and chin had acne. He had his whole life ahead of him. He could be anything. Yet already there was no flower sign. So young for no flower sign. She brushed the lock of brown hair off his cheek.
    “I’m so tired,” he whispered.
    “Rest,” she replied. As she left the ER, she turned down the lights. Before she saw him, she could hear Jack Wolfe as she made her way back to acute care. He coughed as she came through his open door.
    “You gotta dollar?”
    “You shouldn’t have candy.”
    “I love chocolate.”
    “So do I,” Ginger replied.
    “Haven’t seen you around here before and I’m a regular,” he said with a short laugh.
    “This is only my third shift.”
    “What’s your name?”
    “Virginia Moon Martin.”
    Jack’s eyes widened and he lifted his head off his pillow. Then he smiled the way they all smiled when she said her name. Ginger grinned back.
    “You’re not from around here, are you?”
    “Nope.”
    He nodded and then dropped his head back onto its pillow, closing his eyes as he breathed in heavily. Ginger came into the room, took his wrist, and, looking at her watch, counted—one, two, three. How many times had these little beats coursed through this man’s veins? How many times had someone held his wrist to check them? Ginger sighed and started over—one, two, three.
    “Did you find it, Nurse Moon?”
    Ginger looked up and found Jack Wolfe staring at her with a pop eye. “What?” she asked.
    “My pulse?”
    Ginger nodded and set his wrist back down. She gazed up at his drip.
    “Good. You had me worried.”
    “Why?” she asked, turning the drip nozzle so it fed faster.
    “There’s a tear on your cheek and I thought I passed.”
    Ginger reached up quickly, wiping the tear. The little drop of water glistened in the overhead light. Where did that come from?
    “Can I ask you a question, Mr. Wolfe?” she said, quickly diverting the conversation.
    “Sure. I’m not sleeping anyway.” He sat up a little in bed, his chest rising with the weight in his lungs as he struggled for air.
    “You do know that candy bars are bad for you, don’t you?”
    “Yeah, well, most everything I’ve done in my life has been bad for me. I drank too much. I smoked too much. I had a great time doing