Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
BEN
I hummed happily to myself as I collected the chemotherapy cocktail and anti-nausea medication for my patient, Laura. I was pleased that she reported no numbness or tingling in her toes. Her side effects remained minimal, which was amazing.
En route back to Laura, I passed the snack station for patients and their loved ones. There was an array of warm drinks, plain crackers, noodle cups, and other goodies. I snagged a peppermint-chocolate protein bar I knew she loved.
I warmly greeted the wife of a man who’d been coming in for months and smiled at an older woman getting her latest round of chemo when she glanced up from the cozy mystery she was reading.
“Got the goods,” I said when I returned to the quiet corner Laura had selected. She wore a soft pink beanie over her bald head and tucked one of our warmed blankets around her legs resting on a footrest. Her latest crochet project sat on her lap. She was always prepared to keep herself entertained on her longer treatment days.
Laura batted her lashes when I dropped the protein bar on the table next to her. She’d lost most of her body hair but had managed to keep her eyebrows and lashes. She’d joked about getting to save on waxing appointments. I was always in awe of patients who maintained such good humor during one of life’s biggest stresses.
I wheeled an IV pole to her side, hung the chemo bag from the hook, and connected it to the tube from her port.
“What are you working on this week?” I peered over her shoulder. I wanted to sit and gush about our latest crochet projects but needed to get the medication going first.
Laura raised a crocheted circle of pale-orange yarn about the size of her palm. “Cat butt coasters.”
It only took a second to fill in where she’d add legs and a tail and how the circle’s center resembled a pucker. “Oh my god, I need that pattern. My brother has a cat, and his birthday is next month.”
After getting her drip going, I hung out for a few minutes to make sure she didn’t have any side effects. We spent the time talking about our crochet projects.
“You’re a terrible influence on my Ravelry project wish list,” she accused with a smile playing at her dry lips. I made a mental note to snag her a lip balm from our supply when I returned to do my rounds.
I grabbed my phone to show her a photo of the witch’s hat I was crocheting for a friend’s Halloween costume. When the screen lit up, I caught a glimpse of an email from Patchwork Projects with the subject line, Congratulations! You’ve been matched .
“Ooh, see something good?”
I told her about applying to volunteer with the organization. “I just got word that I’ve been matched with someone.”
Laura’s eyes glistened. “There’s a charity for that?” Her voice was thick with emotion.
I smiled softly at her. “There is.”
She glanced at one of the larger chemo spaces where a group of older women gabbed. “I want to do that.” She smiled wryly. “Guess I need to do a better job of leaving patterns with my unfinished projects.”
I chuckled. “You and me both, sister.”
“Hey, babe. I got you the green tea you like from the coffee shop next door.” Laura’s boyfriend approached with a gentle smile. Her answering one was like a burst of sunshine on an overcast day.
“I’ll come check on you soon.” I smiled at him, then left them to their quiet conversation as I prepped for my next patient. I wanted to read the email, but it would have to wait until later.
Miraculously, I managed restraint as my phone burned a hole in my pocket for the rest of my shift. I didn’t get a chance to thoroughly read the email until I clocked out and walked to my car. The project summary indicated it was a granny square afghan that someone local wanted finished. I kicked ass at granny squares.
Once I got home and threw together burrito bowl ingredients, I settled on the emerald-green loveseat in my modest apartment and opened the email again. I stared at the name of the person requesting the project. Heath Hynes. Great name.
I tapped out a text to Heath.
Ben: Hi, I’m Ben. I was contacted by Patchwork Projects about the crochet project you’d like finished. I’d be honored to work on it.
I debated saying more but decided to leave it there for now. I kept glancing at my phone as I ate dinner and watched a nineties sitcom, but it didn’t light up. I had about a dozen crochet projects in progress and didn’t need to start another, but I couldn’t help it.
My phone buzzed as I shoved the last spoonful of dinner into my mouth.
[Unknown number]. Hello, Ben. I’m Heath. Nice to meet you. Thanks for reaching out and your willingness to work on this project. I’m not sure where to go from here. How do you usually proceed?
I added Heath as a contact in my phone.
Ben: This is my first time being paired with someone. We could meet so I can collect the project from you. Or I could give you my address if you’d prefer to mail it. The email said you’re in the McMinnville area. I work in McMinnville and live in Dahlia Springs.
Heath: I live and work in McMinnville but spend a lot of time in Dahlia Springs. Are you familiar with A Whole Latte Love? I often go there on weekday afternoons to do some work after leaving campus.
Campus? He might have a job at the local college. I pictured a glasses-wearing, distinguished man with messy, wavy hair and elbow patches on his tweed jacket.
Ben: Meeting there sounds great! When works for you? My shifts end in the early afternoon.
A Whole Latte Love was the only sit-down coffee shop in Dahlia Springs and had the best coffee outside of Portland. Probably in Portland too.
Heath: I’ll be there by 3:30 tomorrow afternoon and will stay for a couple of hours. Does that work?
Ben: Perfect! I’ll see you then.
I navigated over to Google and searched Heath’s name. I told myself it was so I’d know who to look for in the coffee shop, but I was curious. Was he an older guy with a project from his mom who passed? Or someone with a partner who’d loved to crochet?
As I scanned the results, I spotted a faculty page for an attractive man who appeared to be somewhere around his mid-thirties. Short, dark hair, tan skin, no glasses, and a warm smile. Flutters rushed through my stomach. That kind of hot professor would’ve had me daydreaming through all my college classes.
I stopped myself from reading more about him, but it was hard to fend off the curiosity. If I didn’t learn more about him when we met, I’d indulge in digital snooping on the handsome man later.