On those summer days, his grandfather would tell him stories from the ER, leading Ammon to want to become a doctor himself. During Ammon’s third year of medical school, his grandfather had died. He was granted four days off school for the funeral and bereavement, and during his time home, Ammon had set the route on Craggletooth Rock, drilling permanent bolts into the rock face to make future climbing safer and easier. Setting the route had been Ammon’s tribute, a way of making a part of his deceased grandfather permanent.
Ammon tapped on Bellinghamster’s profile picture. It was a view of a stunning vista from a climb in Southern Utah’s red-rock country. He swiped through her other pictures, looking for one of her face. Instead what he found was photo after photo of the climb or the view, none of the typical view-from-the-top selfies that tended to litter the forum. It might not seem like a big thing, but Bellinghamster seemed to be more into the climb than showing off. She was the kind of person Ammon would want to find Craggletooth Rock. She’d probably appreciate it in the same way his grandfather had.
Ammon clicked back to her profile to see what else he could learn about her. She belonged to both the Washington and Utah networks of the Collective. Considering the screen name, she was likely from Bellingham, Washington, a small town near the U.S.-Canada border. Why did a woman from Washington want to climb a random crag in Utah? He tapped the message icon and typed, Tell me about yourself. What makes you pure in heart?
He sent the message, closed the app, and went to get dinner. He got into the now-much-shorter line and scanned the room for Freddy. Ammon spied him sitting at a table to the left, Eleanor Lavish beside him.
Ammon heard someone get in line behind him. He turned to see the woman he’d run into the previous morning. Today her reddish-brown hair was tamed into soft-looking curls. She wore a green dress Ammon couldn’t help think suited her athletic figure just fine.
“Hey,” he said to her. “We were never properly introduced yesterday morning.”
She looked up at him with a guarded expression. Her cheeks and nose were sprinkled with freckles, something he hadn’t noticed yesterday. Her hazel eyes were rimmed in long eyelashes. Ammon liked the shape of her mouth, her lower lip slightly fuller than her upper.
“I’m Ammon Parker,” he said, holding out a hand.
“Audrey Novak,” she replied, taking his hand. Her knuckles felt rough and chapped like his were from ample handwashing. She pulled her hand away first.
They stepped forward in line, reaching the paper plates at the edge of the table. Ammon motioned for Audrey to go first. “Thank you,” she said, taking a plate. He watched her slender hand scoop rice onto her plate. Of course dinner was Hawaiian Haystacks.
“You were wearing scrubs yesterday morning,” he said. “Are you a nurse?”
“Because I’m a woman, I must be a nurse?” she asked. She then pointed to the gravy and asked the girl refilling the chow mein noodles, “Is this vegetarian?”
Vegetarian? Oh man, was she one of those people?
The refill girl frowned. “Um, it’s Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom.”
“Okay, thanks,” Audrey said and ladled some over her rice.
“Sorry, my comment was sexist,” Ammon said. “So you’re a doctor.”
He detected an amused smirk below her lips. “I’m not a doctor,” she said.
Ammon loaded his plate with rice, chicken, and gravy. “So you are a nurse?” he asked.
“I’m not really a nurse either,” she replied. Ammon eyed Audrey’s haystack: cheese, green onions, and almond slivers. “I’m a midwife,” she said and left the line. His stomach flipped a little. She probably wouldn’t balk at his chosen profession like a lot of women from church did.
Ammon quickly finished making his haystack and followed her. “What hospital do you work at?” he asked as he caught up to her. “I’m up in L&D at the U.”
“I don’t work in a hospital.” She stopped at the table where Freddy and Ellie sat, set her plate down, and took a seat. Ammon took the chair next to hers, a cold dread replacing the butterflies.
“You don’t work in a hospital,” he repeated.
Her hazel eyes assessed him for a moment. “I’m a home birth midwife.”
And here Ammon had thought he’d met the perfect girl: someone pretty who understood the same medical stuff he did. Instead . . .
“Do you have any idea how dangerous home birth is?” he asked.
Her pretty mouth moved into a frown. “Of course you’d say that,” she replied. “You’re an obstetrician. You’re trained to think that way.”
“It’s not my training,” Ammon said. He put his fork down. “There’s medical proof that certain events in childbirth can be deadly and are best handled in a hospital setting.”
Her gaze on him turned cool and steady. “Yes, but a lot of life-threatening situations occur because of unnecessary hospital interventions. And since I don’t practice in a hospital, I don’t have to worry about them happening.”
“That’s just willful ignorance,” Ammon replied. “Women hemorrhage after birth with or without hospital intervention.”
“But it happens a lot less often.”
“But it happens.”
“Yes.”
“So what do you do when your patient hemorrhages?”
“I can do fundal massage, administer a Shepherd’s Purse tincture, or give—”
“That’s ridiculous,” Ammon interrupted. “A massage and some herbs aren’t going to make a difference if the patient is bleeding out.”
“And there’s no guarantee you’d be able to save her either,” Audrey replied, her cheeks growing pink with anger.
“But it’s a lot more likely,” Ammon said. “At least in a hospital I have an OR and a blood bank. All you have is your magic crystals and Reiki.”
Ellie placed a hand on Audrey’s arm, but she brushed it away. Freddy watched the two of them with a huge, amused grin.
“I think you have a fundamental misunderstanding of what happens at a home birth,” Audrey said.
“I’ve seen the results of one gone wrong,” Ammon replied, leveling his gaze to hers. “I don’t need to understand ‘what happens at a home birth’ to know midwives provide inadequate medical care.”
Audrey narrowed her eyes, and Ammon felt a searing crackle of energy between them. He found himself pulled in by both her passion and anger. Why did she have to be attractive?
“I’m a safe provider,” she said firmly.