Chapter 9

      At midnight the previous evening, after being reassured by the hospital staff that his great-grandfather would sleep through the night, Dexter had gone home. Now, at 5:30 a.m., he was headed back to Loma Linda. When Papa Dee opened his eyes, Dexter wanted to be there.

      As he drove, listening to the sounds of Nat King Cole, another of Papa Dee’s favorites, he thought of Faye Buckner. She wasn’t his type, given; definitely not like anyone he’d ever dated before. A study in contradictions. Yes, that was it. Like the bare-faced woman wearing the faded jeans and wrinkled tee compared with the sexy chick who’d shown up at the party in dress and heels with a smart new hairdo that highlighted her high cheekbones and wide, bright eyes. Like the tentative, shy personality who’d barely said three words when he’d first approached her before the party to the self-assured take-charge doctor—doctor!—who’d commanded that he leave his great-grandfather where he lay.