Chapter 14 Bridget
Bridget stood outside the Mammoth Hot Springs hospital with her suitcases stacked beside her and the odor of rotten eggs making her eyes water.
Red had driven her past a white-and-yellow hotel, a post office, and the park information center.
He parked the truck in front of a three-story hospital, unloaded her cases, and left her at the curb without a word of goodbye.
She was just as glad to be done with him.
Bridget was determined to put Red and Claire from her mind for the moment. She needed to make a good first impression on the head nurse, who would—she hoped and prayed—write her a glowing letter of recommendation to the Mayo Clinic at the end of September.
She was ready to put her best foot forward.
There was only one problem. Lying on the grass—right next to the sidewalk that led to the double doors of the hospital—was an immense animal with extremely dangerous-looking horns. Her legs refused to move one step closer to the beast.
“It’s a Roosevelt elk,” a friendly male voice said behind her.
She didn’t take her eyes off the animal. “Is it dangerous?”
“As long as you don’t make eye contact, he’ll leave you alone.”
She quickly averted her eyes and took in the shorts-clad stranger with a collarless shirt, overlong hair, and suntanned face. The man gestured to her suitcases. “Do you need some help, Miss . . . ?”
“No, thank you,” she answered quickly. Bridget didn’t want Nurse Larkin’s first impression of her to be sullied by her walking in with someone so .
. . unpresentable. She walked past the elk, keeping her eyes averted as she opened the door and traded the acrid stench of sulfur for the satisfying scents of antiseptic and floor polish.
She stepped smartly through a cramped waiting room to the front desk, where she met the flint-gray gaze of an older nurse.
A junior nurse sat behind a desk and smiled at her in a friendly way.
“Good afternoon,” Bridget said. “I’m Nurse Reilly. ”
The matronly nurse took in her appearance with a frown.
Bridget knew her windblown curls were a mess, her skirt and blouse were wrinkled, and she’d perspired through her dress shields.
She’d just have to comport herself in a way that overcame those defects.
The nurse glanced past Bridget and her frown deepened.
Bridget looked over her shoulder and irritation flashed through her.
Putting her best foot forward would be easier if she wasn’t being followed by a long-haired beatnik who had appointed himself her porter.
“I’m Larkin,” the nurse said crisply. “And you are late.”
Bridget bristled. “I beg your pardon. I was told to report at four o’clock. It is”—she glanced at her wristwatch—“three fifty-five.”
The junior nurse, a cute redhead with wide blue eyes and freckled face, gaped at Bridget.
Bridget realized her error instantly. To contradict a supervisor was a sin only slightly less egregious than affronting a doctor. What was wrong with her?
It was the fault of this man—this no-goodnik—standing at her elbow with her luggage. He was making her nervous and she needed to send him on his way. She pulled out her coin purse and handed him two quarters. “Thank you for your assistance, you can leave now.”
The man accepted the quarters with a quirk of his mouth. Bridget noticed the junior nurse had a hand over her mouth, unsuccessfully suppressing what sounded like a giggle. Bridget was nonplussed. What on earth had she done wrong?
“Dr. Sampson.” Larkin addressed the man with an unmistakable note of disdain. “Don’t you have better things to do with your time off?”
Doctor? Bridget’s cheeks burned and she wished the earth would open up and swallow her. The man was certainly not . . . doctorly. Those shorts and that hair—how was she to know? Now she’d gone and insulted him with a fifty-cent tip.
The man didn’t seem the least chagrined. He pocketed the two quarters and shrugged. “Not really.”
A muscle in Larkin’s cheek twitched. “Leave your luggage,” she ordered Bridget. “I’ll get the janitor to bring it up to your room. Beckett,” she barked at the junior nurse, “take Reilly upstairs. Her shift starts in five minutes.”
Bridget bristled at the injustice. She had a good mind to take out the letter that stated in black and white that she was to report at four, not start at four, but that wouldn’t do at all.
She’d never get the recommendation she needed at this rate.
“Don’t mind the old crow,” Beckett told her as she bounced down the hall.
“We changed all the shift times last week because we’re so shorthanded.
” Beckett gave Bridget a quick tour of the first floor and briefed her on the workings of the hospital.
It was all quite standard, Bridget was glad to note, with modern equipment and the latest procedures.
On the second floor, Beckett stopped at a nursing station staffed by a dark-haired nurse with a Jayne Mansfield figure.
“This is Rita Finch,” she introduced the woman.
“She’s second in seniority after Larkin. ”
“A pleasure to meet you,” Bridget said.
Finch flashed a Colgate smile. “You have no idea how happy we are to see you.”
At Bridget’s raised brows, Beckett explained, “We’ve been down two nurses since . . .” She hesitated. “Well, for almost a month.”
“We’ve been simply worked off our feet.” Finch nodded.
Beckett pointed to the roster on the wall. “The other nurses are Ruth Bateman and Madge Jennings. Our senior doctor is Dr. Luek. You’ll meet him tomorrow.”
“Did she meet Dr. Sampson yet?” Finch asked breathlessly.
“Did she ever,” Beckett said with a grin.
“Isn’t he a dish?” Finch gave Bridget a once-over. “I called dibs on him, but now that you’re here I don’t have a chance.”
Bridget didn’t respond to that ridiculous comment. She had no interest in romance with doctors, especially one who had made her look like a fool.
Beckett brought her up another set of stairs to the third floor.
The walls were drab green and the linoleum floor was cracked and peeling.
“The washroom is at the end of the hall.” She waved at a telephone on the wall.
“Larkin is a stickler about the phone. Short conversations only, and no long distance.” She rolled her eyes, then opened a door halfway down the hall and stepped back. “Home sweet home.”
Bridget stepped into her room for the next month.
It was perfectly adequate . . . for a nun.
A narrow bed, a window, and a small chest of drawers.
Her suitcases took up most of the floor space.
She reminded herself if all went well, she’d have her own apartment in Rochester by September.
She thanked Beckett and quickly changed her clothes, pulling her white uniform over her girdle and nylons and pinning on her nurse’s cap.
She’d need to impress Nurse Larkin to make up for her blunders.
Ten minutes later she endured Larkin’s decidedly unimpressed gaze.
“I’ll have you shadow me, Reilly,” she said. “Until I am sure you’re capable.”
Bridget bit her tongue. She had graduated at the top of her nursing class at St. Cloud Nursing Academy and had seven years of experience. She certainly didn’t appreciate being treated like a candy striper.
She got right to work, following Larkin as she made her rounds.
“One very important rule,” Larkin said, handing her the clipboard after they changed the dressing on a severe burn.
“Under no circumstances are you to go on a callout after dark without a park ranger. Not here in Mammoth or if you are riding along in the ambulance. Do you understand?”
“Of course.” Bridget nodded, wondering at the head nurse’s severity.
But she had no time to ask questions as Larkin moved rapidly from one patient to another.
By the time Bridget’s shift ended at midnight, she was satisfied she’d made up for her poor start.
As she signed off the floor, she fully expected a positive word from the supervising nurse.
“Make sure you aren’t late tomorrow, Reilly,” was all Larkin said.
She trudged up the two flights of stairs with Beckett. “Don’t let it bug you,” Beckett said, covering a yawn with her hand.
It most certainly did bug her. Bridget said goodnight to Beckett. “Oh,” Bridget said before she shut the door to her room, “I just remembered something I wanted to ask you.”
“Sure, what?” the younger nurse said.
“Larkin told me to always have a park ranger along when we go on calls after dark, and she was quite adamant. Why?”
Beckett’s face fell and she looked away. “Oh, that.”
“What?” Bridget felt a tremor of unease.
“That’s because of Patsy and Sylvia.”
“The nurses that left?” She’d seen their names on some of the records from last month. Bridget was surprised that Beckett used their first names, since it was common practice for nurses to use last names both on and off the floor.
“They didn’t leave,” Beckett said. “But . . . well, it’s maybe not something you want to hear on your first day.”
“What?” Bridget folded her arms. If it was about the job, she needed to know.
Beckett looked down at the cracked floor.
“The thing is, they got called out to the cabins over by the camping area—I mean, Sylvia did. One of the guests had a sprained ankle and needed a compression wrap. Sylvia took the kit and said she’d just run it over, quick as a wink. By herself.” Beckett’s voice dropped.
Bridget felt a chill travel up her neck and prickle over her scalp. She suddenly didn’t want to know about Sylvia and Patsy.
“When she didn’t come back, Patsy went to look for her.” Beckett’s voice was choked with emotion. “We didn’t think anything of it.” She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. “They were such sweet girls. Patsy was engaged to be married.”
Bridget’s legs went wobbly and she put a hand on the doorframe to steady herself. “What happened?”
“It was a grizzly.” Beckett looked up, and Bridget saw the younger nurse’s eyes were full of tears.
“Some campers left their garbage out and Sylvia must have surprised the bear in the dark.” She swiped at her cheek.
“Sylvia was dead when the rangers got there. We got Patsy back to the hospital, but we couldn’t save her. ”
“Oh, no.” Bridget felt as if the room was tilting sideways. How awful. “I’m so sorry, Beckett.”
Beckett nodded her head, accepting Bridget’s woefully inadequate sympathy. “Goodnight, Reilly. See you tomorrow.”
Bridget shut her door, stomach churning. A simple call for a sprained ankle and two nurses dead in a horrible way. Here she’d thought it a stroke of luck she got the job at Mammoth in the middle of the summer, but it wasn’t luck, it was tragedy. A terrible tragedy in this dreadful place.
She looked at her suitcases, yet to be unpacked. She could go home—back to the civilized world where bears didn’t lurk in the dark. Where there weren’t boiling pools and sharp-horned animals around every corner.
She sat down on the hard bed. She couldn’t leave.
If she left now, she’d never get hired at the Mayo.
And what about Claire? She had to convince Claire to come home, where she and Jenny would be safe.
She knelt down on the hard floor and made the sign of the cross.
She prayed reluctantly for Frannie, and more fervently for Claire.
She added a final prayer for the families of Sylvia and Patsy, even though she had never met them.
Then she prayed for herself. Dear Lord, help me to keep my promise to Dad. Help me to get Claire and Jenny home, with or without Red.