A White Knight in ER

by Jessica Matthews

  Because no one usually had time to linger, she was pleasantly surprised to find Dwight and Jonas standing near the coffee-pot, but they were too engrossed in their conversation to notice her arrival. Hating to interrupt, she quietly retrieved her personal cup from the cupboard and waited for them to finish their discussion.

  ‘And you’ll tell her everything?’ Jonas asked.

  ‘I’ll tell her everything,’ Dwight promised. ‘Right after—Megan. I didn’t see you come in.’

  She ambled toward the pot and gave herself a half-serving, curious about the guilty flush on his face. ‘Obviously not. By the way, Jonas, Gene has the lab results you were waiting for.’

  He drained his mug with one gulp. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You guys look rather intense for the morning being so dull,’ Megan commented. ‘What’s up?’

  Jonas’s face underwent a transformation as he flashed one of his killer smiles at her. ‘Intense? Not us.’

  She dismissed him with one wave of her free hand and sent an enquiring glance at Dwight. ‘I heard what he said. “You’ll tell her everything.” You two were talking about that girl who was in yesterday’s car crash, weren’t you?’

  An eighteen-year-old had been rear-ended and, because she hadn’t worn her seat belt, she’d flown head first through the windshield. The damage to her face had been extensive and Jonas had called in the best plastic surgeon available—Dwight.

  The men exchanged a private glance that she couldn’t read. ‘Yeah, we were,’ Jonas began.

  ‘No,’ Dwight said.

  Megan raised one eyebrow. ‘This wasn’t a trick question, guys.’

  Dwight’s shoulders seemed to straighten before her eyes. ‘No, we weren’t discussing that patient. We weren’t talking shop at all.’

  The lack of his normally jovial demeanor was like a warning flag to her intuition. Her light-hearted mood dimmed. ‘Oh. Then who—?’ she began.

  ‘We have to talk,’ Dwight said, his voice strong and sure.

  Jonas wondered how he’d extricate himself from this situation. Where was a code blue when he needed one? The combination of worry and hope on Megan’s face mirrored the look he saw so often on family members’s faces before he broke the oftentimes bad news about their loved one’s condition. Knowing he’d played a role in the upcoming drama, he didn’t want to stick around to watch.

  ‘I’d better look into those lab results,’ he muttered, certain that neither party heard him. Their gazes were too focused on each other to notice if he stayed or left, and this was definitely a time when three was a crowd.

  He slipped out of the room, careful to close the door with a quiet snick. He should have felt good that Dwight had found his gumption, but he didn’t. With Megan’s expression haunting him, how could he?

  ‘I thought I could marry you,’ Dwight said flatly, ‘but I can’t.’

  Megan stood stock still, feeling as if the bottom had dropped out of her world once again. ‘You can’t handle marriage with me or the fact that I’m now a package deal.’

  He winced. ‘You know I love you, Meggie.’

  She scoffed at his pet name, a name that she didn’t ever want to hear again. ‘If you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.’

  ‘The truth is, I’m not ready to be an instant father. I talked it over with Jonas, and although I want children, I don’t want them now and certainly don’t want a houseful.’

  ‘Two don’t make a houseful,’ she carefully pointed out, wondering what had precipitated his sudden case of cold feet. Then again, if his doubts had surfaced when hers had, this had been coming for quite some time.

  ‘If you felt this way, why didn’t you say something before now?’ Being a private person, she hated the idea of Dwight taking a relative stranger into his confidence, especially one who practically had staff falling at his feet in their rush to provide whatever he requested.

  ‘We could have worked something out,’ she continued.

  ‘When and how?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve hardly had a minute alone with you for the last year. Whenever I mentioned the subject, you dismissed my suggestions outright.’

  ‘Suggestions?’ Her voice rose. ‘You knew from the beginning that I couldn’t place Angela and Trevor into foster-care any more than I could encourage my mother to put my dad in a nursing home. That day will come soon enough, thank you very much. But if you wanted advice, why did you choose Jonas? Since when is he the expert on relationships?’

  ‘I wanted a fresh, unbiased opinion. He only confirmed what I already thought.’

  ‘You chose him because he’d tell you what you wanted to hear. Given his lifestyle, he wouldn’t advise you to stick it out and work through these issues.’ She hated hearing the tremble in her voice and swallowed hard.

  ‘This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment choice, Meggie.’ At her frown, he corrected himself. ‘Megan. I’ve thought about this for a long time. I just didn’t have the nerve to say anything. Since I’m leaving in ten days, I thought it would be best to wrap up my unfinished business before I go.’

  Once she’d been the light of his life, or so he’d told her. Now she was merely unfinished business.

  Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his rejection hurt, she twisted the solitaire from her finger and forced herself to sound as unaffected as if he were cancelling a movie date instead of their future. ‘Consider it wrapped up, Dwight.’ She placed the ring on the counter rather than in his hand. ‘All nice and neat in one tidy little throw-away package.’

  Abandoning her mug and cookies when she really wanted to toss them at Dwight’s head, she started for the door.

  ‘I’m sorry, Megan, but it’s for the best,’ he called out after her.

  She didn’t intend to argue. Her emotions had lumped together in her throat and made it difficult to speak without sounding as if she were begging. If he could destroy her dreams with the same clinical detachment he showed his patients, then her pride wouldn’t let her show any reaction either.

  Pausing, she cast a backward glance at him. ‘It probably is,’ she agreed with a calm she didn’t feel. Then, before anything more could be said, she left the room.

  Overloaded by the array of emotions that had struck within minutes, her thoughts froze as she wandered down the hall without a destination in mind. She felt utterly and completely numb until she saw Jonas sitting behind the nurses’ station where he’d claimed her usual spot. The pity in his eyes as he met her gaze brought embarrassed heat to her face.

  Immediately she changed direction and strode toward the nearest exam room. The urge to say something she might later regret was too strong for her to ignore. Counting syringes and tongue depressors would keep her busy with mindless activity—something she desperately needed at the moment.

  She didn’t get far before Jonas appeared at her side. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

  ‘What do you think?’ she snapped as she blinked to hold back the tears forming in her eyes.

  ‘Look. I’m sorry—’

  ‘I don’t want to discuss it.’

  He continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. ‘We have two patients arriving in a couple of minutes. An industrial accident. If you can’t manage, I’ll talk to your supervisor—’

  ‘I know my job, Dr Taylor,’ she retorted, ‘and I certainly don’t need any more of your assistance.’

  He fell silent as her intended barb struck home.

  Hoping to leave him behind, she started to walk away, but he stopped her with a firm grip on her elbow. ‘If you can’t function at peak efficiency—’

  ‘I can function just fine,’ she snapped.

  ‘Hold out your hands,’ he commanded.

  ‘What?’

  He let go of her arm. ‘Hold out your hands,’ he repeated.

  ‘For the love of…’ She bit off the rest of her comment. Jonas wouldn’t stop pestering her until she complied, and she wasn’t in the mood to be hounded. She held out both hands, palms facing
downward.

  ‘Now what?’ she demanded.

  ‘Steady as a rock, eh?’ He raised one eyebrow.

  She looked down and the sight was totally unexpected. Both hands trembled as if she were afflicted with her father’s Parkinson’s disease.

  Immediately she crossed her arms to hide the visible sign of her emotional distress and stiffened her spine. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  Jonas studied her for a second but before he could comment the automatic ambulance bay doors whooshed open. Megan’s personal life disappeared into the background as her training took over and she met the two paramedics who wheeled in a burly patient. He was in full cervical spine immobilization and she ran through her mental checklist of procedures to follow.

  Sam, the familiar forty-five-year-old paramedic, delivered the report. ‘BP is 140 over 80, pulse is 102, respirations sixteen. Patient is fifty-two and was alert when we arrived. He complained of his neck and chest hurting, along with his right hand, leg and ankle. His name is Eldon Lawver.’

  Megan noticed the splints on the affected extremities. ‘Trauma two,’ she directed.

  ‘What happened?’ Jonas asked as they wheeled Lawver’s gurney into the trauma room and were immediately joined by two more nurses.

  ‘According to witnesses, one of Lawver’s coworkers ran amok with a forklift. Instead of hitting the brake, he hit the accelerator and ran into a row of fifty-five-gallon drums. When they rolled, they knocked this guy over and pinned him against a wall.’

  ‘And the driver?’

  ‘He’s coming in the next ambulance.’

  Megan started hooking Lawver up to the array of monitoring equipment standing by, while Jonas began his own physical assessment. ‘I want a complete set of films, starting with the C-spine,’ he ordered. ‘And get the usual CBC, blood chemistries and urinalysis.’

  Megan knew the prime concern at the moment was the patient’s airway. Any injuries in the cervical vertebrae 3, 4 and 5 would cause a loss of control of the diaphragm. It was a good sign that their patient didn’t seem to be having any respiratory difficulty.

  To save precious moments, she prepared to draw the blood sample herself rather than wait for the lab technician to arrive. Although the procedure went quickly and without incident, she was frustrated to notice the slight tremor in her hands was still there.

  It certainly didn’t help matters when she looked up after she’d finished and saw Jonas’s unreadable intent gaze resting upon her.

  Fortunately, the X-ray tech appeared with the portable unit and she scrambled to get out of her way. A few minutes later the commotion outside heralded the second ambulance’s arrival and Megan’s assignment as triage nurse for the day gave her an opportunity to escape Jonas’s watchful eye. At least for a short while.

  ‘I’ll be there before long,’ Jonas called out after her.

  Nodding her acknowledgment, she hurried out of Lawver’s room to send the latest arrival to trauma three.

  ‘I’m fine and I wanna go back to work,’ the young man on the gurney yelled to anyone who would listen.

  ‘You’ll go back when the doc says you can go back,’ the EMT told him.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Megan asked her patient.

  ‘Carl. Carl Walker.’

  ‘Well, Carl,’ she said in her no-nonsense voice, ‘I see you have a knot on your head. Do you feel pain any place else?’

  Andy, one of the EMTs snickered. ‘He’s not feeling any pain, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I’m fine and I jus’ wanna leave.’ The fellow slurred his words and as Megan leaned across him to place the pulse oximeter on his finger she caught a whiff of his breath. The fumes were strong enough to make her eyes cross.

  An on-the-job accident involving alcohol presented a host of legal issues. She’d have to make sure their documentation was absolutely perfect because this case would most likely wind up in court. In the meantime, Carl needed assessment.

  ‘Do you hurt anywhere?’ she asked him again.

  ‘I just wanna go home,’ he crooned.

  ‘At least he’s a happy drunk,’ Andy remarked.

  ‘Did you find anything other than the bump on his head?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not a thing. We’d expected more injuries after falling off a forklift, but I guess he was too limp to hurt himself. He’ll probably walk away with a few muscle aches, a couple of bruises and a helluva hangover.’

  Megan hoped that Mr Lawver would be as fortunate.

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Thanks, guys.’ She turned to Gene. ‘Keep an eye on him while I see what Dr Taylor wants us to do. If he starts throwing up, be sure he doesn’t choke.’

  Gene glanced at Carl with an expression akin to disgust. ‘If you say so.’

  Suddenly, Megan realized what she’d done. She’d asked a man who’d lost his brother to a drunk driver six months ago to take care of an inebriated patient. Memories and unresolved issues would make this case more difficult than the usual DUI case.

  ‘I’m sorry, Gene. I’ll send someone to take over for you.’

  He shrugged as if the situation didn’t bother him, but his set jaw suggested otherwise. ‘A DUI was bound to wander into the ER, but I can handle this. I will handle this.’

  She hesitated. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ The grin he gave her seemed forced. ‘Just don’t evaluate me on my compassion and bedside manner.’

  Megan smiled. ‘I won’t. I’ll be back a.s.a.p.’ Just thinking of Jonas brought back the tension she’d felt earlier. Working together would be tough, at least for awhile, and she wondered if a vacation would help her get over her anger at him for not minding his own business.

  Probably not, she decided. She didn’t have enough vacation hours for that to occur.

  She returned to trauma two, surprised to see the block and collar on Lawver’s neck was gone. Her interest in the patient once again helped her relegate her personal issues with Jonas to the background. ‘How is he?’ she asked.

  ‘His spinal column is OK, but he has a fractured clavicle, a dislocated shoulder, a sprained wrist, a fractured tibia and ankle.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘No kidding, but he’s still a lucky man, all things considered.’

  ‘Internal bleeding?’

  ‘None that we can see so far, but he hasn’t gone for his CT scan yet. He’ll be here for a while, I’m sure. I don’t know what the orthopedic fellows will want to fix first.’ He motioned in the direction of the other room. ‘How’s our other victim?’

  ‘Other than his breath is eighty-proof, he’s stable.’

  ‘Drunk?’

  ‘I’d say so, but you’ll need to order a blood-alcohol level.’

  ‘OK. While you’re drawing his blood sample, get enough for the usual CBC and chemistry panel. I’ll be there in a few minutes.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Megan returned to Walker’s room in time to hear his latest unrecognizable melody. ‘How is he?’ she asked Gene as she gathered her blood tubes and supplies to collect a sample of Carl’s blood.

  ‘Other than he can’t carry a tune with both hands, he’s docile enough,’ the EMT replied as he recorded the latest blood-pressure reading.

  ‘Let’s hope he stays that way.’ She leaned over Carl to draw his attention while she tried not to inhale. ‘Carl? I need to take a blood sample.’

  ‘I don’t feel so good,’ he moaned.

  ‘Hold on,’ Gene told him before he went to the cupboards across the room to look for an emesis basin.

  Megan tugged on a fresh pair of latex gloves before she pushed up his short sleeve and tied on the tourniquet. After swabbing the skin with an alcohol-free disinfectant, she positioned her needle, bevel up, and was pleased to see her steady hand. Too bad Jonas wasn’t around to see this, she thought as she inserted the needle into Carl’s vein.

  Immediately, belligerence replaced Carl’s former easygoing nature. He rose up, howling as he flailed his arms to get away from this la
test insult. ‘What are you doing?’ he yelled.

  Naturally, Megan couldn’t hold his arm still and the needle slid out of his arm. ‘Don’t move,’ she commanded, feeling as if she were wrestling an octopus with one hand. Blood ran down his arm and he fought her attempt to release the tourniquet and staunch the flow.

  ‘No,’ he cried. ‘Don’t want to.’

  Gene entered the fray, but before he was able to subdue him, Carl shook off Megan’s grip with a near-superhuman strength.

  Something seemed to bite her palm, and she looked on in horror as she saw the used needle buried to the hilt in the fleshy part of her thumb, an inch or so above her wrist.

  Jonas, who’d appeared as if by magic to help Gene, muttered an expletive that she mentally echoed.

  ‘Damn it, Megan.’ He sounded aggrieved. ‘What have you done to yourself?’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘I KNEW I should have let someone cover for you,’ Jonas continued vehemently.

  ‘I didn’t stick myself on purpose,’ Megan snapped as she dropped the offending needle into a sharps collector. Did he think she wasn’t strong enough to weather Dwight’s rejection without falling to pieces? How inept did he think she was?

  ‘For your information, I was not careless. Ask Gene.’

  ‘She wasn’t,’ Gene confirmed. ‘If anything, I shouldn’t have been across the room at the time.’

  ‘We can hold our post-mortem later, when there aren’t patients needing us.’ Megan stripped off her gloves to inspect the wound more closely. The site was still bleeding, and she let the flow continue as she headed toward the sink and turned on the taps. Hopefully, any of the potential viruses in Carl’s blood would wash out with her own.

  ‘Scrub your hands with soap. Use the germicidal stuff,’ Jonas instructed as he joined her.

  ‘I will.’ She stared at her bleeding palm, noticing how her tremor had returned, and with good reason. Needlestick injuries weren’t to be treated lightly. Health-care workers had contracted life-threatening diseases over such innocent incidents, and the possibility of her joining those ranks sent a fresh wave of dread through her. Being jilted just a short time ago suddenly seemed so minor when she considered what could happen in the upcoming weeks and months.