Socialite...or Nurse in a Million?

by Molly Evans

  “Has he roused?” the paramedic in charge asked, while the others tended to Carlos, taking over each task from Vicky and applying oxygen at a higher concentration.

  “He walked in then lost consciousness right away.”

  “Did he hit the floor?”

  “I caught him so he didn’t hit his head.” Miguel tugged on his lab coat then realized it was covered in blood and tore it off. “Look, I’ll go with you and answer questions, but this kid needs blood, stat.”

  “We’ll get him loaded, Doc.”

  The next few minutes were a flurry of activity as they loaded the still-unconscious Carlos onto a stretcher and hurried out the door with him.

  As Miguel was about to step into the back of the ambulance, Vicky called to him. “Will you call his mother?” she asked, tears now rolling down her face. Worry clouded her eyes, but he couldn’t take the time to comfort her now. He had to save Carlos first.

  “I’ll call her. Come to the E.R. after us.” He needed her comforting presence with him. He was selfish enough to admit that.

  “Go! I’ll catch up.”

  The ambulance doors slammed shut and Miguel’s last image of Vicky was of her racing across the parking lot to her car.

  When Vicky found Miguel, he was sitting in a chair outside the surgery waiting room, his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. He looked like a man filled with anguish. At first she hesitated, not sure whether to disturb his solitude, then something snapped inside her. He’d been alone too long.

  She rushed to him and dropped to her knees. “Miguel.” She threw her arms around his shoulders. “They’ve taken him to surgery already?”

  “Yes.”

  After a second’s hesitation his arms flashed out around her. She felt the desperation in them and clung to him harder, trying to infuse as much of her energy and comfort into him as she could. “Tell me.”

  “It’s his spleen for sure and possibly a major vessel. The other one is uncertain.”

  “I’m so sorry. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” For a second or two they simply held each other, sharing their grief over their young friend. “Did you call his family?”

  “They’ll be here in a few minutes.” Miguel pulled back from her but kept her between his knees.

  “You love him like a brother, don’t you?” She could see the agony in his eyes and knew it was true. Though she didn’t know much about his past, she knew he’d lost his own brother.

  “Yes. He’s like the little brother I had and lost. His mother is my mother’s best friend, so we’ve known each other a long, long time. If it hadn’t been for that crazy tampon trick of yours, he would have died right in front of us.” His eyes glittered but she didn’t know if it was anger or from tears he couldn’t allow himself to shed.

  A puff of air escaped her throat and tears overflowed her eyes. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry about that.”

  “I don’t either, but you certainly saved his life.”

  Vicky placed her hands on his face and made him look at her. She was no saint. “We saved his life. Together. Now it’s up to God and the surgeons.” She sniffed. “We can only pray and send good energy for him.”

  Nodding, Miguel pressed his face into the junction of her neck and shoulder. Tremors rolled through him, and he held on to her. For the first time she felt as if he truly needed her and she reveled in that sensation. And she knew that she certainly needed him. It wasn’t the heat of the moment, it wasn’t simply passion that came and went. She was falling in love with him. With everything she had in her, she was falling for him.

  Tears coursed down her face as they held each other, oblivious to the noise of the hallway around them. The goings-on of the hospital simply ebbed and flowed around them. Together they were solid as a rock, and there was no separating them. If only she could convince Miguel of it.

  Then chaos, the likes of which she’d never seen, descended on them. Cries of alarm and hysterical Spanish mixed with equally hysterical English bombarded them, and they drew apart. “Family’s here,” Miguel said, and stood, then pulled her to her feet. He kept her by his side until Carlos’s mother separated herself from the group of people surrounding them.

  Miguel didn’t have to introduce them. Vicky knew from the tone of her voice and the tears rushing down her face that this was Carlos’s mother. She was the matriarch of this family and everyone deferred to her.

  Rushing forward, she nearly threw herself at Miguel. He held her and listened. With the smattering of Spanish that she knew, Vicky heard words that she understood, but she couldn’t quite put it all together and she took a step back as the group surged around Miguel. In minutes they had calmed down a little, and Miguel switched to English. “He’s in surgery now and is going to need lots of blood.”

  An immediate outcry came to donate for their brother, their cousin, their friend.

  “Good idea. Some of you can go down to the blood bank right now. Tell them you want to give blood for a patient in surgery, then come back up and wait while some others of you do the same.”

  Vicky’s gaze flashed to Miguel and she frowned, but didn’t say anything. She knew that wasn’t quite a correct interpretation, but he had to have reasons for making that statement.

  “Vicky, this is Carlos’s mother, Priscilla.”

  Before she knew what had happened, she found herself enveloped in a hug from Carlos’s mother. Surprise made her eyes go wide then her arms went around the tearful woman. “Gracias, gracias, gracias!” She took a breath and pulled back from Vicky. “Miguel tells me of what you did to save mijo. Tampons, of all things!” She shook her head in disbelief. “You are truly an angel to save my son.”

  “Oh, but, really, Miguel—”

  “He is an angel, too,” she said. She patted Vicky’s cheek and held a hand out to Miguel, bringing him closer. “The two of you will ever be in my prayers. Thank you. Thank you.” She held her arms out to the two of them, and the family crowded around, adding their love and thanks.

  Never in her life had she felt such an overpowering sense of love and purpose. Although she was sorry about Carlos’s injury, it certainly proved to her that she was where she needed to be and this was the kind of work she was meant to do. It didn’t matter where she had been born, or how she had lived her life previously—this moment in time clarified it all.

  “You’re welcome seems so silly to say right now.” She sniffed and wiped her cheek on a shoulder.

  “It’s not silly at all.” Priscilla pulled herself upright and nodded. “You are right. Now is the time to be strong for Carlos. Thank you again, hija. I will always be indebted to you.”

  “Oh, no—”

  “Please, hija? Allow me that?”

  Vicky paused and looked at the faces of Carlos’s family around her. They needed this, and she could give it to them. Nodding, she hugged Priscilla then moved to the background.

  A few minutes later, after some of the family had left for the blood bank in the basement of the hospital, Miguel sat beside her. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.” She offered a smile, but inside she was a mass of nerves. Clutching her hands in her lap, she tried to focus on something else. “How long do you think he’ll be in surgery?”

  “At least another hour. Getting the spleen out is first then checking the other areas for injury will take a while.” Without another word Miguel leaned back in the chair, placed an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him.

  For a second she resisted, then the emotion and the energy of the past hour or so caught up to her and she nearly melted.

  “Do you know how he got stabbed in the first place? It hadn’t occurred to me until now.”

  “No. We’ll have to wait until he wakes up to find out. Even then he may not have any memory of the attack itself, just vague splotches of images. The brain protects us that way.”

  “Is that what you told his mother?”

  “Yes. And as far as I know, it’s the truth.” His lips p
ressed together and there was a tension about him.

  “But you have an idea, don’t you?”

  Miguel leaned toward her, cupped a hand on her left cheek and pulled her face closer to his. “I don’t want to say anything with the family so close.” He pulled back and placed a quick kiss on her forehead.

  Nodding as he pulled back, she looked up, wishing that he would kiss her once more but afraid that she wasn’t ever going to experience that again. Without thinking, she placed a hand on the back of his neck and closed the distance between them. It was only a chaste kiss on the lips, but one she needed to give him. “It’s going to be okay, Miguel. It’s going to be okay.” Somehow she knew Carlos was going to pull through. “He’s young and strong. He’ll make it.”

  As he drew back, he took her hand in his and pressed a long kiss to her palm.

  Some of the family returned from the blood bank and others went down to donate their blood. Everyone settled down into a somber group as they waited for the surgeons to give a report on Carlos’s condition.

  Two hours later, the surgical team, two male physicians, both of whom wore exhausted expressions, entered the waiting room. “Carlos’s family?” one of them asked. Even before he finished looking around, the two men were surrounded by Carlos’s eager relatives.

  “He’ll make it.”

  Cheers and tears erupted in the room. It was exactly what they wanted and needed to hear. Miguel reached out for Vicky and brought her against his side. He needed her there. At least for the moment he needed her. He’d allow himself to lean on her for a while then he’d stand on his own, as he always had.

  Then her trembling touch and her fragrance wrapped themselves around him tight and he didn’t know if he could ever let her go. Turning to face her, he held her even more tightly, allowing himself that indulgence.

  “He’s got a good heart, a young healthy body and an extreme run of good luck,” the surgeon said to the group, then his gaze came to rest on Miguel. “Miguel? What are you doing here?”

  Miguel moved forward, with Vicky still clinging to his side. He shook the surgeon’s hand. “Hello, Craig. It’s been a long time. Carlos is my employee…and a very good friend.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat.

  “I’m so sorry to have run into you this way,” Craig said.

  Miguel nodded and introductions were made. “I’m assuming he’s headed for the surgical ICU?”

  “Yes. He’s doing well in Recovery, but we’ll keep him sedated for the first twenty-four hours or so and limit visitors to immediate family only.”

  “Understood. He needs to hear his mama’s voice.”

  Priscilla stepped forward with authority and held out both of her hands to the surgeons. “I’m his mother. Thank you both for saving my son’s life.”

  Craig grinned. “You’re welcome. We did the cleanup job, but whoever thought of the tampon trick really saved his life long enough for us to get the rest of the job done.”

  Priscilla turned to Miguel and Vicky and nodded. “It was those two.”

  Vicky turned a glorious shade of red and tried to move behind Miguel, but he wasn’t having any of it. “Come out here, you, and accept the credit you deserve. It was brilliant.”

  “But I didn’t do anything,” she muttered, and her eyes were wide with panic.

  “Don’t ever say that, mija,” Priscilla said. “You did save my son’s life and for that I’ll never forget it.”

  “Absolutely,” Craig said. “The tampon expanded fast enough and applied enough compression internally to slow the bleeding. That couldn’t have been accomplished with simple external pressure.” He gave a chuckle and the tension in the room loosened its grip. “I think I’ll ask the ambulance crews to stock tampons from now on.”

  Vicky looked up at Miguel, helpless, and then she burst out laughing. The family joined her as she covered her face with her hands.

  CHAPTER TEN

  SHE looked so beautiful standing there with the flush on her face and surrounded by people who had been strangers but, due to her selfless actions, were now lifelong friends. And against his will Miguel was falling hard and fast for her. Much more than he’d ever thought possible. Guarding against the enticing Vicky Sterling-Thorne was much harder than he’d expected. She was so much more than he had thought in the beginning. Now he was going to have to rethink his beliefs.

  Arrangements were made for Priscilla and Carlos’s father to have visits in the ICU; other family members were sent home to start cooking. Relatives and friends were going to arrive at the house, and having a pot of beans and rice, as well as one full of posolé, a stew of pork or lamb and hominy, would feed everyone. At times like this the family came together.

  The midnight hour approached, and Miguel felt the exhaustion of the day crowding in on his mind. Fatigue like he hadn’t felt since his residency weighed his shoulders down.

  “Are you ready to go?” Vicky asked. “I can give you a lift home. Seems like everyone else has settled down now.”

  Unfortunately, one could function on adrenaline only for so long before one’s body crashed. Miguel was on the crashing end now, and he knew it. If he didn’t get home soon, he was going to keel over. “Yes. If you don’t mind, I’d love a ride home.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” They said their goodbyes and in minutes were in Vicky’s car on the nearly empty streets, headed west from the University of New Mexico Hospital. Silence filled the air between them, but Miguel reached over and took her right hand, needing just that little bit of a last connection between them. When he got home and they returned to work, the closeness between them would end. Again.

  He directed her through the residential neighborhood to a small cul-de-sac that was almost hidden by sprawling oak trees nearly as old as the city itself. His bungalow was at the end of another property. “It started out as a caretaker’s cottage or a mother-in-law’s quarters or something. I bought it about five years ago.”

  “It’s darling. Pretty similar to the house I live in. It was a caretaker’s cottage a long time ago, too, but when I divorced my husband I took it over.”

  Miguel unbuckled his seat belt, but didn’t have the energy to open the door just yet. “I didn’t realize you were divorced. Not that it’s my business.”

  “No problem. It was a mistake from the get-go, but I corrected it as soon as I realized what was going on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I married a man who took his money to bed instead of his wife. Ambition and greed didn’t leave any room for me.” She snorted. “That still burns. I should have seen it sooner.”

  “At least you saw it.”

  “Yeah. Want me to walk you up?” she asked, changing the subject. The green glow of the instrument panel illuminated her face, and he could see the little smile flirting with her lips.

  “I know it’s late, but would like you like a cup of coffee or something before you head home? I know neither of us had dinner and I won’t be able to settle down for hours.”

  “If all you have is instant coffee, I’ll pass. I can grab something at home.”

  He patted her knee. “Come on. I’ll fix you a sandwich or something.”

  While Miguel puttered around the kitchen, Vicky wandered the hallway with the glass of wine he’d poured for her and admired the photographs on the walls. “These are just gorgeous, Miguel. You do have a beautiful family.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “There’s a whole pile of pictures I need to put up, but just never seem to find the time to do it.”

  “More cousins?”

  “Yes. My mother has eight siblings, my father nine, and I have four.”

  Vicky’s eyes widened. “Wow. There’s just my two brothers and I. Only the older brother has kids, two. The younger has his own business he’s married to, so I doubt there will be any children from that union.”

  Miguel laughed. “Let’s hope not.” He pushed a sandwich on a paper plate over the breakfast bar toward her and together they
sat on the bar stools and ate with their hands. There was something simple yet incredibly exotic about eating plain food with the hands.

  As he watched Vicky pull grapes off the small bunch he’d given her, he found himself becoming aroused at the sight of her small fingers holding the fruit as if it were fragile then pressing a kiss to each grape before she put it in her mouth.

  “Why are you doing that?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Giving each grape a kiss?” He watched her hands as she plucked another grape.

  “I didn’t realize I was. I must be tired. It was something that I heard of as a kid, giving thanks to the goddess of the vine for the bountiful harvest, or something like that,” she said, and waved away the sentiment. “It’s silly, I know, but it never hurts to give thanks.”

  “I like it.” He pulled a grape from his own plate, kissed it and held it out to her. Her gaze flashed to him, suspicious yet curious, brimming with desire. Hesitation in every movement, she leaned forward and accepted the grape from his outstretched fingers. The soft touch of her lips against his skin inflamed his arousal.

  Without taking her eyes away from him, she picked up a grape from her plate, kissed it then held it out to him. “I think they taste better this way. What do you think?”

  A growl burned deep in him. It was animal instinct, something wild and untamed that he’d kept locked up for too long. He circled her wrist with his hand and took the grape from her fingers. Its sweet, tangy flavor nearly exploded in his mouth. “It is better.” He moved closer to her. “I wonder if it’s the same.”

  “What’s the same?” Her gaze flashed to his mouth. She knew he wanted to kiss her, and she was obviously not displeased with the notion.

  “If I kiss you and then eat a grape. Will it taste the same?” He edged a little closer to her, drawing her closer by her wrist.