Free One Sure Thing (Mamma Lou Matchmaker Series) by Celeste Norfleet Page A

accomplishments of Raymond Gates Sr.’s illustrious career at Johns Hopkins, as he boasted about his own career at Golden Heart.
    “Doctor Wallace, I do have one question. I haven’t been in on an ER medical staff since my intern rotation. I’m unfamiliar with the term LP macrotentioneda .”
    Scott grimaced. “Acronyms like those are why we rather not use them.”
    “What does it mean?”
    “Actually I’m not familiar with that particular term, but I’ll be happy to find out for you.”
    “I’d appreciate that doctor, thank you.”
    Seconds later Raymond pushed the large blue square panel on the sidewall and waited a second or two for the automatic doors to swing open. When they were completely open he stepped through into another world.
    The waiting area was almost completely empty. Raymond glanced around getting his bearings mindful of the directions he’d just received. He turned right and passed the main information and sign in desk where two nurses, and an orderly, and a police officer talked quietly amongst themselves.
    A young man, in his mid twenties, sat nearest the desk watching the television as he waiting patiently. On his lap was a sleeping child, obviously exhausted. Propped next to him was another sleeping child, older, maybe four or five, with his head lying awkwardly against the man’s arm.
    In the far corner, there was a much older man sitting underneath a peaceful picture of a child playing in the sand. He was hunched inward, bundled up in a too small sweatshirt and too large jeans. Now fast asleep, his hands still gripping a newspaper he’d been reading as his slowed rhythmic snoring wheezed with little difficulty.
    A continuous blast of air from the air conditioning vent directly above him, kept the unread newspaper flapping in his stilled hands. Gruff and grimy in appearance, his matted hair was a disastrous crop of black and gray, seemingly unkempt and uncombed for many days. He had a large suitcase near his dirty socked feet, which were very comfortably planted next to his pair of very new, very chic, very red, three-inch patent leather pumps and matching purse.
    Raymond shook his head, not completely surprised by New York’s finest. Hospital waiting rooms were notorious for bedding the homeless and mentally ill nightly. Often forced back out onto the streets by security, they often returned, craving the relative safety of the hospital to the streets.
    And yet, far be it for him to pass judgment on anyone, he thought as he wandered around the dimly lit hospital corridors at six o’clock in the morning. It wasn’t the oddest thing, but not exactly the most normal thing to do.
    With relative ease, Raymond followed the directions exactly. But instead of finding himself in the cafeteria, he was headed directly to the doctor’s lounge. Hopeful to find a hot cup of coffee, he pushed through the doors and entered.
    She had her hands cupped over the top of her head with her head bowed low into her chest. Soft gentle sobs of pain emanated from her obvious distress. In an instant her head bobbed up displaying anguish across her face. Her gasp of surprise was as heartbreaking as her still gently falling tears.
    With little thought to the appropriateness of the situation Raymond found himself by her side within seconds. He embraced her lovingly and protectively wrapped his arms around her.
    He leaned her head onto his chest. She conformed easily allowing his strength to still her. Raymond drew her closer and inhaled the sweetness of her scent. She smelled of clean fresh cotton and jasmine.
    “I’m sorry,” Hope said as she tried to move away before she thoroughly embarrassed herself. She had misjudged his compassion. “This is totally unprofessional of me. I’m sorry.” Utterly and completely mortified by her show of weakness, she continued to apologize.
    “What’s wrong, what can I do, how can I help?”
    “Nothing’s wrong. I’m sorry,” she hiccupped and swallowed a sob while