Life Support

by Candace Calvert

  “A long time ago. He was almost fourteen at the time. It was a boating accident. A head injury and near drowning.” There was compassion in her eyes. For him, too, now. Eli wished he’d never brought it up. “I’m very glad that your daughter’s showing such progress, Mrs. Grafton.”

  “Thank you.” She pressed a kiss to her granddaughter’s head. “Did your brother—?”

  “He’s severely disabled. We’ve found a good care home not far from here.” He glanced toward the door, wanting nothing more than to escape. “So . . .”

  “I won’t keep you.” Marsha stepped close, patted Eli’s shoulder. She’d hugged him last time; he had no doubt she’d do it again if there weren’t a baby in her arms. “I know you’re busy. I really appreciate your coming up here.” Her eyes searched his almost as if she could see right into his heart. “What’s your brother’s name?”

  “Andrew—Drew.”

  “I’ll be praying for Drew. And his younger brother, too.” Her caring smile was a hug in itself. “Oh. I meant to ask you. Do you work with a woman named Jessica?”

  “There’s a clerk by that name. In the ER registration office. Jessica Barclay.”

  “Would my daughter have met her?”

  “Yes,” Eli confirmed, remembering the two of them in the urgent care. And Jessica’s distress when she heard about the fall from the roof. “They did meet. Why do you ask?”

  “Darcee mentioned her. They were testing her memory of things that happened right before the fall. One of the few people she could recall was a woman named Jessica. Your clerk must have made a strong impression.”

  - + -

  “It’s no problem, really,” Lauren assured Eli as she restrained the one-year-old boy on the gurney. She pinned the baby’s chubby face gently between her palms as Eli applied a last layer of surgical glue to the moon-shaped laceration on the tiny chin. “I’m caught up in triage, so I had the time to help over here.”

  “Great . . . thanks,” he murmured, head down and intent on the wound repair. The perspiring tot heaved a sigh, his eyelids finally drooping in exhaustion.

  An urgent care tech hustled by, offering Lauren a grateful look; they were short-staffed today.

  “Plus,” she added, fairly certain Eli was only half-listening, “I’m pretty close to a championship belt in toddler wrestling. This could do it for me. I’ll be able to go professional and stop working these cruel twelve-hour shifts. Thanks.”

  “Right. Sure . . .” Eli’s head popped up. “What?”

  Lauren smiled. “Not important. All finished?”

  “Yes. I think that’s going to do it nicely.” He stripped off his surgical gloves, dropped them on the equipment stand. “Drool- and apple juice–proof, minimal scar.”

  “You did a great job.” Lauren’s heart tugged as Eli tenderly touched a fingertip to a damp curl clinging to the sleeping child’s forehead.

  “And fortunately he’s not too traumatized,” he observed with a sigh. “Mom and Dad are out in the waiting room. Parents can hear their baby’s cry through closed doors—even over our newsworthy storms.” Eli shook his head. “Emma stepped on a piece of fireworks debris when she was four. Tiny foot, huge blisters. Hearing her cry tore me up. And I was a combat medic.”

  “Completely different when it’s personal.”

  “I’m learning that.” Eli reached for his stethoscope, resettling it around his neck. “We haven’t had a chance to talk. About last night.”

  “Mmm . . . no.” She was unprepared for her knees to weaken.

  “I wanted to call you this morning, but things got a little complicated. Family stuff I had to take care of. I should probably warn you: that sort of thing isn’t unusual. The Landrys could operate a fourth ring with Ringling Brothers, Barnum and Bailey.”

  My family would be hawking peanuts and tent insurance.

  “It’s not a problem. Not calling me, I mean,” she said, self-conscious. “Really. I—”

  “Lauren, there you are!” Gayle Garner strode toward them, exasperation on her face. “I expected to find you in the triage office.”

  “Is there a patient ready for me?” Lauren was surprised by the manager’s appearance: hair escaping from a careless ponytail, no makeup. No shower, either, from that unpleasant whiff. “I’m sorry. The clerks said they’d let me know. Eli needed a hand here, and—”

  “There’s no patient waiting,” Gayle interrupted. “I’m short on time. It’s urgent that I talk with you. About your sister.”

  Lauren’s pulse picked up. “What do you mean? Was there an accident?”

  “No. It’s not that. I need to talk with you about something personal. Before she arrives for work.” Gayle swiped at her forehead, eyes anxious. “Of course, I expected to find you in your office.”

  The child on the gurney awakened and began to fuss.

  “I’ll finish up here,” Eli interjected. “My fault for pulling her away, Gayle.” He met Lauren’s gaze, concern in his expression. “Thanks for your help.”

  “No problem,” she managed, sudden dread choking her voice. Something “personal” about Jess?

  Lauren checked in with the ER clerks, then used the short trek back to the triage office to take a breath, say a silent prayer.

  “Close the door,” Gayle instructed as Lauren entered the office. “There’s enough gossip going around already.”

  Lauren settled into her desk chair, regretting the closed door. The air was too close and the nurse manager’s scrub top was damp with perspiration.

  “I felt I should warn you about a situation,” Gayle began. “The fact is, I simply can’t look the other way. Not this time.”

  “Warn me? This has something to do with Jess?”

  “Everything to do with her, I’m afraid.” Gayle pressed a hand against her abdomen. “Last Sunday your sister was seen at an ER patient’s bedside going through a bag of personal belongings.”

  “I . . . I don’t believe that. Who said—?”

  “Me.” Gayle squirmed in the chair, rubbed her stomach. “I’m the one who saw her, Lauren. I confronted your sister on the spot. Obviously she didn’t tell you. The patient’s name is Adele Humphries. She was medicated, asleep. And Jessica had no business going through her things.”

  “This is about those missing drugs? You’re accusing her?” Lauren leaned forward, heart starting to pound in her ears. “You reported my sister to security?”

  “I haven’t yet. But . . .” Gayle squeezed her eyes shut for an instant. “I have no choice. She was there. The drugs are missing.”

  Lord, please . . .

  “You’re mistaken,” Lauren insisted. “There’s some other explanation. Jess wouldn’t—”

  “Please, spare me. I’m tired of hearing people defend your sister’s behavior.” Gayle rose to her feet, trembling. “Arriving late, conning other staff into doing her work, disappearing. Making excuses. And always that . . . that attitude.”

  “Gayle, wait . . .” Lauren struggled for words, horrified the other staff would hear. And concerned by Gayle’s increasingly ill appearance. “Please . . .”

  “Please what? Look the other way? Because she’s your sister? Because—” Gayle retched, clutched her stomach, her face going pale.

  “Gayle! Here, let me—” Lauren leaped from her chair, catching the manager under her arms as her legs began to buckle. She eased her down to the floor, alarmed when the woman’s eyes rolled back. “Stay with me . . . please.” Lauren pressed her fingers against Gayle’s throat. Rapid pulse but breathing . . . “It’s okay. Be still now. I’ll get help.”

  “I’m so . . . sick . . . ,” Gayle moaned, then began gagging again.

  “Help!” Lauren reached up for the door handle, yanked the door open, and shouted again. “Need help in here!”

  Jess burst through the doorway, stopped cold, staring at Gayle on the floor. “Oh, my—what’s wrong?”

  “Get Eli!”

  “I’M NOT SIGNING IN AS A PATIENT, ELI.” Gayl
e gripped the Styrofoam cup of Gatorade, trying to control her trembling. “This is humiliating enough. Turning the nurses’ lounge into a sickroom . . .” She grimaced at the sight of the plastic bag on the chair beside hers. Her clothes. She could smell them from here. “I really thought this stomach flu had simmered down. Obviously I was wrong. But I don’t need you to fuss over me.”

  “I’d feel better if we had you on an exam table,” Eli countered, reaching for her wrist.

  “No. I won’t take up your time and Lauren’s any longer. Or keep my staff out of their lounge. This is all so unnecessary.” She connected with Lauren’s gaze. “Help me convince him?”

  Lauren’s silence said the obvious: Gayle was lucky she hadn’t left her on the floor, stepped over her, and walked the other way. Gayle had taken things too far in that triage office. She’d been needlessly harsh about Jessica.

  “Your heart rate’s still above a hundred,” Eli confirmed, glancing at his watch. “I think it might be good to have some labs drawn. Make sure your electrolytes aren’t out of range. I’ve discussed it with the ER physician and—”

  Gayle squeezed her eyes shut. They’d all be talking about her now. That’s the last thing she needed. “Look, I’m sorry I made a scene. And a revolting mess. But this isn’t serious. It’s not a heart attack or a stroke; it’s the tail end of the stomach flu. I got light-headed in the triage office from retching. That’s all. I didn’t completely pass out.” She captured Lauren’s gaze. “Tell him I didn’t.”

  “Pretty close.”

  “But I didn’t. And . . .” Gayle pumped the flex straw in her Gatorade, making it squeak against the lid. “I’ve kept three cups of this stuff down without vomiting. And no more diarrhea.”

  “You’ve had a fever with this illness?” Eli still looked unconvinced.

  “Never over 101. Garden-variety virus. It just got the best of me today.”

  Eli scratched his chin. “We could give you a liter of IV fluids, Gayle. As a little insurance.”

  “No. I don’t need that. Give me a chance to wash my face, gargle some hospital mouthwash, and I’m good to go. Right home to bed.” She traced a finger over the breast pocket of her borrowed scrub top. “Promise.”

  “Your doctor . . .” Eli tipped his head, still scrutinizing her. “He’s following your enlarged thyroid?”

  “And ordering appropriate meds.” Which I’ll refill when I can afford the co-pays.

  “We can’t force you to stay for an exam. But I’d better not see you here at work tomorrow.”

  “You won’t.”

  Eli nodded. “Your husband’s on his way?”

  “Yes, sir.” Gayle smiled. Loaded on Percocet and Valium? Sure Leo’s coming. Once these two were gone, she’d head to the parking lot.

  “Thank you,” she added as Eli reached for the door. “Really. I do appreciate the concern, and—Lauren, wait. I want to talk with you.”

  “I need to get back to triage.”

  “I’ll only keep you a moment.” Gayle expected the look on Lauren’s face. Like she wasn’t sure if she’d be trapped in a room with Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde.

  “I’ll leave you ladies, then,” Eli said, stepping out.

  “Thank you.” Gayle turned to Lauren as the door closed. “I wanted to say that I appreciate what you did. Helping me like that.”

  “Of course.” Lauren’s eyes were more than wary. “But I think you should have let Eli examine you. You seem like you’re not feeling well lately. Not just today. For a while now. People are concerned.”

  “The staff is talking behind my back?”

  “They’re concerned. As in, they care.” Lauren sighed. “Forget it. But I need to know something: are you going to take that story about my sister to security?”

  “I don’t see how it can be avoided.” Gayle flexed the straw in her cup. “I wasn’t the only witness. The p.m. coordinator heard me question her. There’s probably talk already.”

  Lauren grimaced. “I heard the staff’s going to be drug tested.”

  A rumor, no doubt. But then, Gayle wouldn’t have been included in the planning this time. Because . . . I’m a suspect too? Cool sweat trickled beneath her scrub top.

  “I don’t know if that’s true,” she told Lauren finally.

  “If you did, you wouldn’t tell me. You think I’d warn—” Lauren stepped out of the way as the door opened inward behind her.

  “Oh, excuse me.” Jessica’s eyes darted from Lauren to Gayle. “I didn’t know you were still in here.” She glanced toward the sack of soiled scrubs, nose wrinkling. “I was going to grab one of the bottled waters from the fridge.”

  “No problem. I’m leaving.” Gayle rose slowly, grateful the dizziness was minimal. She reached for the plastic sack. “Going home. Eli’s orders. I’ll get out of your way.”

  “No need to leave on my account,” Jessica said quickly. “Really.”

  “I insist. And I’m gone.”

  Gayle stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind her, relieved. She’d planned to tell Lauren she was sorry for her behavior in the triage office, apologize for letting that confusing rush of anger make her say things she regretted. But it didn’t matter now. And it didn’t matter, either, what Lauren would relay to her sister. Or how many rumors floated around the department today. She wouldn’t be here.

  - + -

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Lauren leaned against the closed door, staring at her sister. “Last night. You never once said Gayle confronted you about handling a patient’s personal belongings.”

  Jess cracked the cap on the water, regarding Lauren as if she’d asked about her preference in dental floss. “Is that what she said?”

  “Said is too polite a word, Jess. Gayle trapped me in my office and ranted, saying the patient was sedated, that you had no business being in the room at all. She cited problems with your work and—” Lauren made herself stop.

  “And what?” Jess frowned at the label on the bottled water.

  “The fact is,” Lauren explained as calmly as she could, “this patient is missing medications. Percocet, I think, and some muscle relaxers. Those are all controlled substances, Jess. And Gayle’s determined to put you right there at the scene.”

  “I guess now you’ll stop saying all that stuff about her being my ally.”

  “That’s all you have to say?” Lauren’s temples began to throb. “Don’t you understand? Gayle’s going to say she caught you.”

  “Gayle Garner sent me in there,” Jess spit out. “Her claim that I had no business being with Mrs. Humphries is a stinking pile of—you want to hear what really happened?”

  “Please.”

  “I registered that patient when she arrived. Her family was there too—that daughter and the teenage grandson. I got it all done, papers signed, the works. But then a couple of hours later, Gayle pulls me out of the lounge—away from my dinner break—to go back in there and talk with that woman again. Something about another insurance card. One of the other clerks offered to do it. But nooo, Gayle says it has to be me.” Jess jabbed her thumb against her chest, sloshing her water. “She makes this big deal about Mrs. Humphries personally requesting me. And she says nothing about her being zonked from meds. Don’t you think that’s all a little strange?”

  “I suppose,” Lauren ventured, fairly certain her sister was making her usual case that the manager had it in for her. “But were you doing what Gayle said? Going through Mrs. Humphries’s belongings?”

  “She told me to find her card. In a purple coin purse, she said. Inside a big bag of junk her family brought in. I swear, there was gross denture stuff and an old flea collar in that mess.” Jess frowned. “I couldn’t find the coin purse. I was going to set the bag on her lap and wake her up again. Make her do it. That’s when Gayle walked in. She started in on me. Loud enough for the clinical coordinator to come in. And for everyone else to hear probably.”

  Lauren thought of the chapel staff meeting. How Gayle had m
ade such a point of indicating that Jess had been at the hospital on her day off.

  “I admit,” Jess continued after taking a swig of water, “I should have told that lady she’d have to look for the card herself. I know that’s what we’re supposed to do. But she was groggy and sooo slow, and I was on my dinner break. I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. That’s what I told security today.”

  Lauren’s mouth sagged open. “You talked to them already?”

  “Had no choice. They called me down to the office the minute I walked in.” Jess smirked. “A lovely way to start the day. In the bathroom with someone watching you.”

  “They took a urine sample?”

  “From me and a couple other people.” Jess stared at Lauren. “What’s wrong? You think I couldn’t pass a drug test? You think maybe I really did—?”

  “No,” Lauren interrupted, guilt jabbing. “I’m not thinking any of that. But why didn’t you tell me about this? Last night, when you were so upset?”

  “I don’t know.” Jess picked at the label of her water. “I guess I didn’t want to worry you. Bring up the business from last fall. You know.”

  The positive drug test . . .

  “At least the heat will be off about those other thefts now,” Jess added with a sigh.

  “Meaning?”

  “Something else I heard first thing today: they caught a cook’s son breaking into a locker in the basement last night. A teenager.” She rolled her eyes. “Comes to work with his mom when she works p.m.’s so she can watch him, keep the kid out of trouble. Anyway, he admitted to all of it.”

  Lauren sighed, partly out of relief . . . mostly from empathy with the cook.

  “So see, you can stop worrying your pretty head on that one, Lolo.” Jess began to smile, her eyes teasing. “Just pinkie swear you won’t rat me out to Fletcher.”

  “Rat . . . ?”

  “I mean, the urine test won’t show any drugs, but . . . it’s also going to show a seriously negative chocolate level. Our man with the badge is a good pal, but I can’t eat that many cupcakes. Swear you won’t tell?”

  “Swear.” Lauren laughed as Jess linked their fingers, then gave her a quick hug. “Your guilty secret’s safe with me.”