Chapter 17
Seventeen
JACKIE
I sprinted home faster than I thought possible. My blood was boiling. By the time I pounded up the front steps, I was sweaty and out of breath. I’m still fuming. The thing is, I don’t know why. Yes, it sucked to see him with Maia, especially because it seemed like Maia was kind of making fun of me.
But Joe can do whatever he wants with his life. All I need him for is the Tribute, and once that’s over, if we don’t talk any more, who cares? I step into the house, stifling a groan. I care, that’s who. Joe is my friend, or at least I hope he is.
I drag myself into the shower, glad that today is one of my days off. I try to wash away all the stress and tension from the day. By the time I get out, it’s only partly worked. Every muscle in my body still aches, and all I really want to do is go to bed.
I’m toweling off my hair in my bedroom, when my phone starts ringing. I know that ringtone. Work is calling. I stifle another groan. Of course, this is how my day is going to continue to go. First Joe, now work.
“Hello?”
“Is this Jackie Moretti?”
I don’t recognize the voice, and I can feel a frown creasing my face. “Yes, it is,” I say.
“This is Shannon from scheduling,” the woman says.
“Oh, hi,” I say. “What can I do for you?”
“You are on our list of nurses available to pull an extra shift today,” she says. “So, are you?”
“Am I what?” I say, slightly confused.
“Are you available to come in to work?” Shannon asks.
“I…” I pause, unsure what I am supposed to say. I haven’t been called into work on my day off before. Is there some kind of protocol where you can say no?
“We need coverage in the ER,” Shannon says. “There are a ton of injuries from a natural gas explosion that happened outside of town. From my understanding, there is also a wildfire that was sparked by the explosion. We’re just desperately looking for extra staff. If you can’t come in, we’ll keep looking.”
“Of course I’ll be in,” I say without any more hesitation. My mind starts racing. I can’t believe something like that happened here, in Cranberry Creek.
I book it to the hospital. I’m sure that I break several traffic laws, and I don’t remember stopping at any red lights. I hope they were all green. Turning on the radio in the car, I can hear that the situation is much more complicated than I had originally thought. There is a lot of speculation about how many people are injured. There are even unconfirmed reports of casualties.
I can’t believe how petty I was being earlier. Who cares if Joe goes out with Maia? It might hurt my heart, but at least we’re all alive. As I throw my car into park, the thought crosses my mind that if I got called into work, Joe might have, too. Is he out fighting that fire right now? My heart starts to hammer painfully against my ribcage. I feel like I’m about ready to have a panic attack.
Despite the fact that I know I need to be hurrying into the ER, I pause on the sidewalk to take a few deep breaths. Instantly I feel calmer. I’ll be no good to anyone if I am in the middle of a panic attack. I need to be calm and able to completely focus on my patients.
Joe is fine. He is at dinner with Maia, probably staring deeply into her eyes. Jealousy flashes through me, confusing me. Why am I so hung up on Joe? Ugh. Even when I crushed on him ages ago, he never reciprocated the feelings. Why do I find my heart pining to know what he thinks and feels still? I feel childish, very annoyed with myself. I shake my head hard to clear my thoughts. I’m going to be fine. Joe is fine. Even if he did get called in, he’s been trained to fight wildfires. They are lucky to have him.
Finally, I feel well enough to go inside. My mind is still lingering on Joe and Maia. I’m confused by my feelings, because these are not things that I have ever associated with Joe since my childhood. When I have more time, I think that I need to follow the thoughts to their conclusion so that I can have some kind of resolution. I think I need that.
When I step inside the ER, there are people everywhere. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many people here. This is what we train for, though. It’s typically called a mass casualty event. Not because people have died, but because there are so many people involved in whatever has happened.
I head over to the nurse’s station and wave down one of the nurses, who looks positively frantic and exhausted. “What?” she snaps. Then her expression softens. “Sorry. Just…this is crazy. What can I do for you?”
“I’m from maternity. Scheduling called to see if I could come in. Where do you need me?” I say.
“Zoe, we have an overflow nurse,” the woman calls over her shoulder.
Another woman, whom I assume is Zoe, hurries over to me. “Name?” she says.
“Jackie Moretti from Maternity,” I say. “Just tell me where you need me to go.”
Zoe checks my name off her list, and looks around. “Can you check on the patients in the back hallway? We’re trying to get rooms to open up.”
“Sure thing,” I say, ducking behind the nurse’s station to ditch my purse.
I take a second to orient myself with the ER system. Clearly, it’s very different from what I work with on the maternity unit. They have more charting than we do, and it goes much more quickly. That’s fine. I’ll just do what I can and ask if I need help. I head toward what I assume is the back hallway. There are three people lying on stretchers.
I approach the first man. “Hi, Sir, have you been seen by a nurse yet?” I ask.
The man shakes his head slowly. He seems disoriented, and there’s an oozing wound on his forehead. My initial thought is that he probably has a concussion. “Okay,” I say. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I…I don’t remember that much,” he says in a halting voice. “There was an explosion, I’m pretty sure. Maybe something hit my head.”
I check him over, and add my observations to the clipboard hanging at the end of his bed. It’s an old-fashioned system, but in the case of this event, it makes sense. I doubt there will be much charting until later.
Time passes quickly, as I check over the other two patients. One has a broken wrist, and the woman on the last stretcher doesn’t have anything obvious wrong with her, so I write a recommendation for further testing.
When I get back to the nurse’s station, I pause for a moment while I assess where I can be the most useful. There is no sense in putting the info into the charting system until I have helped with more patients. I’m just not sure where to head next.
Before I can head out to see another patient, one of the other nurses comes back. She sinks down into a chair. “I just heard a rumor from one of my patients that there are several firefighters who have gotten hurt.”
“Oh?” I ask as I inhale a gasp of breath. My mind immediately turns to Joe. How can this be happening? He’s not at the fire, right? He has to be at dinner with Maia.
“Yeah,” the girl says. She shakes her head. “My boyfriend is a part-time firefighter. I’m so worried.”
I want to commiserate with her, but what can I even say? My childhood friend might be out there fighting the fire, or he might be on a date with my older sister. Neither of those things is going to make this girl feel any better. I can’t shake the feeling that I'm way more wrapped up in where Joe might be at the moment than I should be.
I never get the chance to respond to her, because there is a flurry of activity in the ambulance bay, and stretchers start coming in. Someone yells that these are the firefighters, and to clear a path for them. I find myself watching as each stretcher rolls past, and I’m relieved when I see that Joe isn’t among the firefighters coming in. Does that make me a horrible person?
Glancing back over at the nurse who told me about the firefighters, I can see that she looks relieved, too. Her boyfriend must not be among these guys either. She sags in the chair, and for a moment I worry that she might pass out. It can be hard to be a nurse. I feel the same way, although I’m not sure I have any right to. The Maternity ward is a whole different world than what these nurses and doctors deal with daily in the ER.
“I’m going to go see what I can help with,” I tell her. She just nods at me, and I know that she just needs to take another moment to breathe and calm her nerves.
I skirt around the edge of the nurse’s station and head toward the triage area, where they seem to be bringing most of the firefighters. There are five or six of them, but someone says that there are more coming in.
Pausing near one of the stretchers, I smile at the young guy lying back. “How are you doing?” I ask as I begin to take his vitals. That seems to be the best thing that I can do.
The guy, probably barely over twenty, gives me a weak smile. “I’ve been better,” he says. “This is my first week on the job.’
Hiding my shock at his words isn't easy, but I manage to slap a smile on my face. “Yikes,” I say. “So can you tell me what happened, and where you’re hurt?”
“Okay,” the guy says, nodding. “We got called out from Barley Ridge station, and we were supposed to be just back-up. But when we got to the site of the natural gas explosion, the fire had already started to spread. So we jumped in. A tree branch fell on me. I think it hit my shoulder, because that’s where it hurts.”
I nod and move to check his shoulder. Sure enough, it’s dislocated. I pat his hand, and say, “A doctor will be with you soon, and you’ll be fixed up in no time.”
Just as I am setting his chart down, the ER ambulance bay doors open again, and my attention is drawn toward a new wave of stretchers being brought in. To my horror, I see Joe coming in on one of the first ones. Just seeing him being brought in makes my brain short circuit, and I don’t think that I’m thinking straight. The only thing that I know is that I need to be the one to take care of him.
“Joe, are you okay?” I demand, as I approach his bedside. “You were supposed to be safe at dinner with Maia.”
Joe laughs, and I realize how nice of a laugh he has. It surprises me how much I like his laugh. “I’m fine,” he says. “It’s just a minor burn.”
He holds out his hand for me to see. I peel back the temporary bandage, and as soon as I see the angry red gash on his skin, my eyes fill with tears. They trickle down my cheeks, and I’m surprised by my reaction. Joe seems to be surprised as well. He reaches up with his other hand to wipe the tears away from my cheek.
“I’m okay, Jackie. Really. I’ve had worse injuries in the line of duty. I promise,” he says.
I look up at him, and something passes between us. I’ve felt like this before, recently with Joe… the night we were painting. Well, supposed to be painting. Staring at him now, I’m filled with the sudden, paralyzing realization that my heart is swelling with an emotion I don’t know if I can bear to acknowledge.