Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Josie was studying an X-ray film alongside Dr. Bennett, the radiologist on rotation that night. Unlike Dr. Hayes, the short, slightly rounded Dr. Bennett was not intimidating. Nor did he treat her like a glorified assistant.
Plus she hadn’t slept with him on his living room floor. And she didn’t have the slightest urge to make out with him in the small room.
“What do you see. Dr. Adkins?” Dr. Bennett rocked back and waited for her to make the diagnosis.
With confidence she ran her pen along the film that showed the elderly woman’s ankle joint. “A spiral fracture to the tibia, a fractured fibula, and a broken talus across the neck here.”
She glanced to see his reaction. He was nodding in agreement. She smiled. It wasn’t relief she felt. She had known she was right. It was satisfaction that someone else was witnessing her being professional as opposed to clumsy.
“Whose patient is she?” Josie asked.
“Dr. Hayes. What’s his schedule like? He might want to do this in the next couple of days.”
All she knew about his schedule was that it didn’t involve her. In the hospital or out, because she had every intention of avoiding him as thoroughly as possible. “I have no idea. We’ll just transfer her to the third floor and work it out when Dr. Hayes comes in.”
Her pager went off in her pocket. “Excuse me, Dr. Bennett.”
“See you later, Dr. Adkins.” With a friendly wave Dr. Bennett pulled the film down and left the room whistling.
She followed him out of the room and started down the hall for the staff phone. She had a headache—a nagging, throbbing, behind-the-ears one that had been plaguing her since she’d woken up that morning, after a fitful and unproductive night of sleep filled with sensual dreams of Houston.
Which she should be grateful for in a way, she thought. Since in her dreams was the only time she was going to be getting any action ever again.
“This is Dr. Adkins.”
“ER needs assistance, Dr. Adkins.”
Josie felt her heart leap in anticipation.
When she was on call for the ER they didn’t always need her, and she wished they would.
Every time she saw a case, she grew in confidence and experience.
This could be another chance to prove herself capable to Houston and avoid the little career guidance counseling he wanted to subject her to the next day.
She’d rather poke her eyes out with dull butter knives than sit in front of his desk while he told her all of the ways she had screwed up.
“What is the injury?” she said crisply.
“Surfer attacked by a shark. Heavy bleeding, possible shock, possible muscular and vascular damage. Victim is on his way in now.”
“Eww.” She voiced her unprofessional opinion on being bitten by a shark. “Sounds nasty. I’m on my way.”
As she shifted through her mind all of the complications that could arise from having a dozen knife-like teeth sink into human flesh, she found herself thinking about Houston. He was a surfer. He’d had the day off.
The thought had her jogging down the hall, which suddenly felt three miles long.
It couldn’t possibly be Houston, of course.
It would be an amazing coincidence if it was him, since she didn’t even know if he was surfing.
He could be out on a date for all she knew, or stocking up on veggies at the grocery store.
Or he was out there on the water riding a killer wave, looking cool, calm, and utterly untouchable.
No shark would dare attack Dr. Hayes. He would stop it in its tracks with one of those deadly stares.
Yet she found herself suddenly running down the hall in her urgency to get there.
Josie saw his name on the board as soon as she walked in. Hayes. Top of the casualty list.
It was him. Of all the people in the water that day, it was Houston who had been attacked. Her feet slowed as she swallowed hard. Shark bites could be really horrific, with massive amounts of tissue loss. Even whole limbs.
Just yesterday he had been kissing her, stroking between her thighs and today...
The ER nurse came up behind her. “Dr. Adkins. Room three. They just brought Dr. Hayes in.”
“How is he?” she asked as she started to jog down the hall, grabbing a clean gown to pull on over the scrubs she was still wearing.
The nurse called after her, “I don’t know. He lost a lot of blood, that’s all I heard. The paramedics are with him now. Dr. Matthews is in room one dealing with a cardiac arrest, so you’re the only doctor available.”
Oh, fun. Being in a small beach town, Acadia Inlet Hospital kept a bare-bones emergency staff for normal Sundays. One physician and two or three nurses, with ortho on call.
Not only was she about the least qualified staff member to be dealing with a serious injury, she was personally involved with the patient. Or had been the night before. Houston had made it clear that was as far as any involvement was going to go.
Taking a fortifying breath that only made her stomach churn, she flung the curtain aside and brushed past the middle-aged nurse, Shirley, at the end of the gurney. Two paramedics were bent over Houston.
The taller paramedic with blond hair looked up. “Hey, Dr. A. Long time no see.”
“Hi, Ernie.” During her ER on-call days she’d run into Ernie and Brent regularly enough. “How is he?”
They stepped back for her to take a look, and she stopped dead in her tracks, her stomach moving beyond churning to roiling. Houston was unconscious, his face an unnatural white, and his lower leg was saturated with blood.
Ernie clapped her on the shoulder. “He’s stable. Only wounds are the right hand, calf, and shin, but he’s bleeding like a stuck pig. Good luck with him.”
Brent read off heart rate and blood pressure as she swallowed hard and stepped forward, pulling on latex gloves. Her instincts and training took over. Quickly she peeled back a T-shirt from the leg that was soaked with blood. The wound was still bleeding, though sluggishly.
It was encouraging news that the lower leg was the only wound, and there didn’t seem to be significant tissue loss that she could see at first glance.
Josie relaxed her shoulders, not even realizing until that moment how tense she had been.
She hadn’t been sure she could handle a more severe injury, but she could deal with these wounds.
“Put a line in him, please, Shirley. He needs an IV and blood typing. We’re going to need to do a transfusion once we stop the bleeding.”
Assessing the pallor of his face and the blue tint to his lips, she added, “Get some blankets.”
She tossed the soiled shirt in the biohazard bin and told the paramedics, “You guys can head out. We’ll take it from here. He looks pretty stable, all things considered, and it sounds like you got him here in record time.”
“Hope he does all right,” Brent said as they left the room.
Josie hoped he did all right as well. One minute he’d been so cool and in control, teasing her, and now he looked pale and vulnerable.
The woman in her, the one who had gone and forgotten they were nothing to each other, just co-workers who’d had a one-night stand, wanted to brush her fingers through his hair and trace those blue lips.
Which would look real professional. As soon as the nurse was done inserting the IV, Josie straightened her shoulders.
“Grab those blankets and I’ll get some saline to wash out the wound.
” She listened to Houston’s uneven breathing and allowed herself to rub his arms rapidly, rationalizing she was working to prevent shock.
But it made her feel better that he was warm to the touch, his heart rate strong and steady.
“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered, no longer caring if she sounded professional or not. She didn’t feel professional when he was bleeding all over her shirt.
Pulling out her penlight, she pulled back his eyelids and checked his pupils for dilation.
Houston focused on her and blinked. “Josie?” His voice was faint, but determined.
Her hand shook a little as relief surged through her. She was mortified to realize that tears had welled up in her eyes—tears she bent over and viciously wiped away so he wouldn’t see what an emotional dip she was being. “Shhh. Yes, it’s me. Just relax while we get you cleaned up.”
The nurse came back and draped a thick, heated blanket over him and murmured to Josie, “I sent his blood for typing, and the saline is right behind you.”
“Great.” She turned to grab it when his hand pulled weakly at her, trying to stop her.
“What is it?” she asked, giving in to her sudden tender urge and tucking the blanket tighter around his chest.
“Where’s Tim Sheinberg?”
Her relief turned to hurt. He wanted to know if a more senior orthopedic surgeon could be brought in. He obviously didn’t trust her to know how to care for his injury. Even injured and half-unconscious he could insult her.
She spoke as lightly as she could manage. “Probably at home watching TV. He’s not on call tonight.”
“So call him anyway. You’re not ready to do this on your own, or to stay detached.”
If he hadn’t been bleeding, she would have smacked him. It was his fault she wasn’t ready to handle major cases, and his fault she was emotionally involved. Sleeping together had been his stupid idea, one he had pursued heavily if she remembered correctly.
Josie tried not to let her irritation show, especially since Shirley was watching and listening with interest. “I am certainly qualified to give you stitches, which is all you need.” Her sympathy and tenderness evaporated, she changed the subject before she told him exactly what she thought of his attitude.
“How much pain are you in? We’ll give you some diamorphine. ”
Maybe it would improve his disposition. Permanently.
He groaned.
She took that to mean the pain was severe. “Shirley, would you get that, please?” He would need it for when she dug around in those wounds checking for debris.