Chapter Four
L ater that day, Cal’s ED shift was in full swing.
He’d treated a man with a fracture—the guy’s hammer mistook a finger for a construction nail. The patient wouldn’t be hammering with that hand for a few weeks.
After stabilizing a woman with severe shortness of breath that turned out to be pneumonia, he placed initial admission orders. When the patient had come into the ED, her oxygen levels were in the low eighties. Now, with a dose of steroid and antibiotics, combined with a breathing treatment and supplemental oxygen, she breathed much easier. Literally. Clicking SIGN on the electronic medical record, he sat back in his chair in the work area. The family physician on call would finish the orders during rounds later today.
One teen’s severe migraine finally responded to a headache cocktail of medications. It was so satisfying to resolve someone’s incapacitating pain and light sensitivity. The big smile from the grateful patient reminded Cal why he enjoyed all aspects of ED work, from the straightforward fixes to those heart-pounding moments when he used his skills to stabilize traumas and manage acute medical conditions.
The most eye-opening discovery about working in a smaller facility with lower patient volumes? He had time for patients and nursing staff. As in, he could actually sit down and talk with them.
Instead of spending the shift calling for stat life-saving equipment and directing personnel through crisis after crisis, he now had the bandwidth to let the patients tell their whole stories. He could truly be present in the exam room instead of always monitoring the unending number of waiting patients in the queue. For the first time in years, he could sincerely ask the patient what else is concerning you ? and not look at the clock when the patient or family offered more detailed information to help him understand their condition.
His workdays here in Yukon Valley flowed more like a meandering creek than class V rapids, which was different from Harborview’s emergency department. He found that he didn’t mind the change of pace. Huh. Go figure. Cal blinked and rubbed his chin.
His stomach growled. 1:20 p.m. Damn, he’d missed lunch. He hadn’t adjusted to the fact that a small hospital cafeteria wasn’t open round the clock. He had ninety-minute windows to hit breakfast and lunch.
He’d missed today’s window.
Around the corner from his dictation area, the ED doors swung open with a recognizable mechanical clunk and whoosh. For a split second, he tensed, half hoping that a certain person with blue eyes was coming through the doors.
Then he heard a distinctive voice.
“See, I knew he wouldn’t stop for lunch.” An irritated hmph .
Sounded like someone was in trouble, and that someone was him.
He squirmed in his seat.
“We figured if he didn’t need this meal now, he could save it for dinner later.”
“That’s so sweet of you, Mrs. Garrett.” Amberlyn’s voice grew louder.
Yep, Mom was here. Cal’s actual mother had showed up. In the hospital.
With lunch. For her grown son.
How the mighty had fallen.
“Did you want me to bring some dinner later for you and Clyde, honey?” Aggie said, coming around the corner. “Hi, Calvin!”
“That’s nice of you to offer, ma’am.” Amberlyn shot an amused expression at Cal. “But we’re good.”
Pop trudged along behind Mom and squinted around the ED, shaking his head. “Why don’t I stay out in the waiting area? Or outside. I don’t like keeping Doofus locked in the truck. I hate coming in this place.” Good ol’ Pop. He had never been jovial, per se, but he’d somehow turned into the town curmudgeon who nowadays seemed to enjoy the company of his mutt more than most people.
“Come this way, Mr. and Mrs. Garrett.” Amberlyn directed them to the empty seats on the opposite side of Cal’s work area.
Mom said, “We don’t want to disturb patients—”
Patients. Mom didn’t care about disturbing Cal. He snorted, then froze when Amberlyn glared at him.
“It’s no disturbance,” she said sweetly. “We’re between patients. There’s no problem with you being here right now.”
No problem, other than the fact that families did not generally bring lunch directly into their family member’s workplace . In the hospital. But hello, Yukon Valley.
Clyde, the other nurse on shift, popped his head out from where he was restocking supplies. “Hey, I thought I heard familiar voices!” Strolling over, he rested his clipboard on the fax machine. “Um, Aggie, I don’t suppose you brought any of those world-famous chocolate chip cookies?”
“As a matter of fact, I did bring you all a batch.” Mom pulled out two old Christmas tins.
The unit coordinator pushed back from her workstation and quickly joined the party.
Mom added, “You have to share these with the rest of the team, Calvin.”
The two nurses and the unit coordinator laughed and ribbed Cal. Their laughs turned to happy sighs as they bit into Mom’s cookies.
He peeked in the paper bag and inhaled. “Meatball sandwich?”
“One of your favorites,” Mom said, smacking Pop’s hand as he reached for a cookie. “That’s for the ED. Your batch is at home.”
“It’s not as good. It’s my no cholesterol, low sugar batch.” Pop groused and waved his hands. “Don’t you people do any work around here? Seems like a lot of goofing off happening.”
Amberlyn pointed her half-eaten cookie like a weapon, making Pop’s eyes bulge. “Bruce, we love you, but you don’t get to complain about how hard we work.”
After eating the last of his cookie, Clyde crossed his arms across his chest and stood next to Amberlyn in nursing solidarity.
Mom gave Pop the we’re-going-to-talk-about-this-later look.
“Um.” Sweat beaded Pop’s forehead.
Calvin swallowed a bite, the savory meatball and homemade sourdough bread taking him back to meals from years ago. He laughed but did not put down the sandwich. “Well, Pop, you stepped in it now. Rule one. Never ever insult the nurses. That’s biting the hand that feeds you. I believe the last time you saw these goofing off folks, you were nearly dead.”
Clyde waggled a finger before snagging another cookie. “As I recall, the very last time Bruce was here, he was fine even though he was faking a heart attack as he helped us play matchmaker with Dr. Lee and Maverick Steen. The time before that”—he paused for effect—“Bruce wasn’t nearly dead. He was very much dead. We goof-offs made him undead. Come to think of it, we should get chocolate chip cookies for the rest of our careers.”
Mom nodded, ignoring the dissatisfied man next to her. “I tried to explain this to him, but this fellow… if you told him the sky was blue, he’d argue that it was red.”
“Sometimes it is red,” Pop grumbled.
Cal chuckled then sobered. Pop had died here in the ED. Even after the team obtained return of spontaneous circulation after the massive heart attack, Pop’s clinical situation had been dicey for the next forty-eight hours. A heart cath and stents had made a huge difference, but the cardiologists hadn’t been able to guarantee that everything would turn out all right. Sure enough, Pop’s stay in the ICU in Fairbanks hadn’t been uncomplicated, either. He might never regain all of his heart function due to the cardiac damage.
Glaring at Pop, Mom turned back to the staff and said sweetly, “Next time, if you could leave that throat tube in place so he can’t talk back, I’ll double your future cookie orders.”
“Deal,” Amberlyn said.
Right as Clyde replied, “Done!”
“You people are ganging up on us old folks.” Pop gestured toward himself.
“They’re giving you a taste of the grief you give them,” Mom said.
“I heard that you like the grief I give you, dear.” Pop waggled his bushy eyebrows.
Mom’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh, Bruce.”
Seriously, this could not be Cal’s life right now. He finished off the sandwich and wadded up the wax paper, tossing it into the trashcan. “You two”—he wiped his face with a napkin and threw that in the bin as well—“need to take these shenanigans outside. The hospital is no place for canoodling.”
Everyone laughed, including Mom and Pop. It felt good. It felt right. Comfortable.
Amberlyn slung an arm around Mom’s shoulders. “Say, don’t you think Dr. Garrett would benefit from some canoodling? Maybe with someone working in the hospital?”
Alarm klaxons went off in Cal’s brain. Redirect the conversation. Now!
Mom laughed and gently bumped Amberlyn’s hip with hers. “We’ve been telling him this for years. We even have suggestions, but he won’t listen to us.”
Clyde, who was married with two children, nodded sagely like a bald oracle on the relationship mountaintop. “Maybe he needs a good push in the right direction? We can help. We’re good at that.”
Cal held up his hands like he was holding back a leaking dam. His effort was about as effective. “Okay, folks. No pushes. No direction. Time to finish the cookies and get back to work.” He gritted his teeth at the motionless staff who were not done with the cookies and who were obviously not going back to work. “Hello?”
By now Mom and Pop had huddled with Clyde and Amberlyn about three feet away from Cal.
“Anyone?” It was like talking to a wall. “As the ED doc, aren’t you all supposed to listen to me?”
The unit coordinator touched her silver curls and smiled, creasing the lines in her face. “I’m listening.” She peeked at the tin. “And I do believe I might have another cookie.” She, too, however, did not make a move to return to her desk.
Bruce looked back over his shoulder at Cal. “I mean, if it weren’t for me, those other two would never have gotten together. I’m on a roll.”
Mom shook her head. “No, dear. Flirting with death isn’t the same as helping people flirt.”
Amberlyn peered at Clyde and then at Cal’s parents. “What we need to do is get him a date for the Breakup Festival.”
Cal gave up. Medical hierarchy had deteriorated into straight-up anarchy. He kept his head down, pretended to review lab results, and polished off another delicious cookie. The still-warm chocolate melted in his mouth. Okay, fine. There might be a few advantages to working in the same town as his parents.
People plotting his future relationships? That was where he had to draw the line.
His ears burned, knowing that people were talking about him. “Okay, dream team. If you’re not an employee at this facility, then I suggest you head on out because actual employees at this facility have real work to do.”
Mom made a hmph .
Pop studied him until his back prickled with sweat. Cal wanted to shrug out of his vest. It had suddenly become warm in here.
“Use your energy for hospital things,” he said, trying to project authority. He wiped his hands on a napkin then reached for a squirt of foaming hand sanitizer. “No dates for the festival. Besides, my time here in Yukon Valley is temporary until Mom and Pop get more support.”
Pop crossed his arms and planted his feet. Uh-oh. “Who needs more support?” Pop asked. “I’m not an invalid. Aggie and I are taking care of the homestead just fine. Besides, we’ve got all the support we need right from all of our extended family here in Yukon Valley.”
That word snapped like a rubber band on Cal’s wrist. Hard enough to sting and get his attention.
Pop puffed up his chest, winding up even more. “Yukon Valley has everything that I need. It has a hospital, nice people, and folks willing to help at any time.”
Amberlyn, Clyde, and the unit secretary all nodded.
“It doesn’t have a cardiologist,” Cal said.
“The chance of me needing another cardiologist anytime soon is pretty small, now that my heart has been roto-rootered and the pipes reinforced.”
Mom shook her head.
Amberlyn and Clyde chuckled and drifted away.
That left Calvin with a potential unpleasant argument brewing with Pop. It was a familiar argument about his parents’ future. He was not going to have it here in his place of work.
“Let’s talk about this later, Pop. It’s not something we need to decide today.” Truth be told, Cal had considered all the options and had decided on the best course of action.
If only he could get his parents on the same page. What they needed was a push in the right direction. He glanced at his phone. There had been a text earlier this week that might provide that push. Cal needed to take time to think this plan through.
Pop huffed. “Maybe you won’t be in such a rush to get me out of Yukon Valley if you had a good reason to want to stay here.”