“I wasn’t finding fault,” she apologized. “Honest. It’s plain that your administration is providing the best to your patients, regardless of the cost. You definitely should be proud of your ICU. I’m sorry if I gave the impression that ‘small’ meant ‘substandard.’ ”
She sighed. “Maybe today wasn’t the best day for a tour. I have too many other things on my mind.”
“I know.” He also knew he was partly to blame. She might have been disappointed by the dead ends she’d encountered in her amateur investigation, but she hadn’t lost the sparkle in her eyes until he’d attacked the way she rode to Ned’s rescue. He stood by his opinion—that she should let Ned crawl out of the hole he’d dug—but hindsight told Mark that he should have used a softer approach.
While he might not know if she planned to take his advice, he was certain of one thing. The swish of her skirt and her subtle fragrance was driving him mad. If he allowed himself to think about the wisps of silk he’d seen in her suitcase, he’d find the nearest empty closet and kiss her until her toes curled.
As quick as a wink, he realized how close he’d come to never meeting her. If Ned hadn’t disappeared, or if he hadn’t moved to Hope last fall, their paths would never have crossed. So, in spite of the catastrophes of the last two weeks, Mark felt somewhat indebted to his colleague. With that sort of cosmic tie, it seemed strange, in a fate-defying sort of way, to wish that Ned wouldn’t return. He may have promised Dixie that he’d listen to Ned’s tale, but he truly didn’t believe Ned had a legitimate reason for his actions.
All of which meant that when Ned waltzed back into town, Mark would literally crush Dixie’s feelings when he pressed charges against her cousin.
Although he hated to think of Ned exchanging his medical career for a jail sentence, Ned deserved what he got. If he stole that much money and got away without anything more than a slap on the wrist, what would he try next?
No, dealing with Ned was only a minor pothole in Mark’s road of life. Recouping his losses was a little more serious roadblock and would require some major readjustments in his plans, but doing so would be more of a setback than an insurmountable problem. The true sticky situation lay with Dixie herself.
He’d only known her for twenty-four hours, but he hadn’t been able to shake her out of his mind since the moment he’d caught her going through Ned’s desk. Maybe if she hadn’t felt so damn good plastered against him, he wouldn’t care if she watched her cousin being led away in handcuffs. But he did care, and he couldn’t bear knowing that he’d caused her pain.
He hadn’t met anyone in years who had remotely triggered his romantic interest and now that he had, he wanted to explore that attraction. Yet how far could a relationship develop with Ned’s situation casting such a long shadow over it? She’d never forgive him if he insisted on Ned receiving his due.
Ned obviously didn’t appreciate or understand the depth of Dixie’s loyalty and that alone irked Mark no end. The man was snubbing the very thing that Mark wanted for himself. Several years ago, he’d thought he’d found his dream with Andrea, but her loyalty had rested with her gambling habit and not with him. He’d merely been a means to an end.
Now Mark had to walk a fine line between seeking justice and shielding Dixie from her cousin’s indiscretions.
“Mark? Hello?”
“What?” Realizing she’d asked him a question, he grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I was woolgathering.”
“Don’t we all at one time or another?” she asked simply, making it sound more like a statement than a question.
“What did you want to know?”
“I just wondered why they’d placed Pediatrics and ICU on the same floor.”
“Couldn’t tell you,” he said. “With all the tonsillectomies and myringotomies that we do here, I would think peds patients should be closer to the same-day surgery unit.”
“Maybe someone wanted the kids tucked away because of the noise.”
“Could be. At least they have a ward to themselves. The old-timers have told me the children used to be slotted in with the general population, so we’ve made some progress.”
He pushed the heavy fire door and held it open for Dixie to maneuver through. “Do you know what room Joey is in?”
“No.”
“Then we’ll stop at the nurses’ station,” he said, leading the way.
The head nurse, Rebecca Roberts, sat behind the desk. She was in her early forties and wasn’t much taller than her patients, but she wore a perpetual smile and was a picture of calm whether she had two patients or twenty.
“Slow day?” he teased.
Rebecca glanced up from her chart and chuckled as she motioned to the pile waiting for her attention. “How did you guess?” she asked. “You must be here for Joey.”
“Actually, he’s Dr Albright’s patient,” Mark said smoothly before he introduced the two, took Dixie’s coat and draped it over a chair.
Immediately impressed by the nurse’s friendly manner, Dixie accepted the thin chart Rebecca handed over without prompting on her part. “How’s he doing?”
“We wore him out completely,” she answered. “Respiratory gave him an albuterol treatment as soon as he arrived because I could tell the poor thing was really struggling for air. We also had a devil of a time starting his IV, but we managed. His labs are posted on the chart, along with his X-ray report. His films are next to the viewbox, by the way. I asked Radiology to send them along in case you wanted to see them for yourself.”
Dixie did. “Thanks.”
“I’ll take you to his room whenever you’re ready.”
After acknowledging the nurse’s comment with a nod, Dixie glanced through the record. Little Joey was dehydrated—his electrolytes were out of balance, as she’d suspected—and his chest X-ray showed a diffuse pattern of inflammation. His white count was elevated, too, which pointed to bacterial causes, although it was hard to say if those bugs were the primary or secondary source of his infection. With his RSV test positive, the poor little guy faced a long battle even with all the drugs at their disposal.
“Continue the fluids and the antibiotics,” she said as she scribbled her orders. “Breathing treatments every four hours and keep him in the tent.” The plastic tent over the crib allowed them to create a high-oxygen, high-humidity environment that helped to relieve chest congestion without turning the entire room into a tropical rain forest.
“Did you want to start an antiviral med?”
Dixie knew that studies on the drug’s killing effects against this virus were mixed, but Joey fell in the high-risk category of being less than a year old.
“I believe we should.” She turned toward Mark, surprised to see him sprawled in a chair as if he had nothing in the world to do. “What do you think?”
“You’re the doctor.”
She wrote the order for respiratory therapy to administer the drug via aerosol. “Monitor him for any side effects,” she said as she signed her name.
“Will do.”
Dixie glanced down at Mark. “Do you want to join me?”
“I have faith in you,” he said, making no effort to move. “This is the first time I’ve been off my feet since lunch, so I’d rather not get up until I have to.”
His confidence suddenly restored her flagging spirits. After learning about Ned’s perfidy and digesting Mark’s comment about being Ned’s crutch, she hadn’t been in the best of moods. Truth was often a painful pill to swallow, even if it was prescribed with the best intentions.
“Suit yourself,” she said.
Dixie walked to the room directly across from the nurses’ station, aware of Mark’s gaze following her. She wished she wasn’t quite so clumsy with her crutches, or so slow, but he hadn’t complained during his tour of the hospital or acted as if he’d wanted her to hurry. In any event, she felt more self-conscious than self-assured.
Inside the room, she couldn’t see much improvement in Joey’s condition, but mothers were
often a better guide to their child’s response than doctors. “How’s he doing?” she asked softly, in deference to Joey’s exhausted sleep.
“About the same,” Carrie admitted as she stroked her son’s arm above his IV. “I think the breathing treatment helped a little, though.”
“He’ll be getting those every few hours, and once the antibiotic takes hold in the next twenty-four hours, he’ll start to bounce back.”
“My husband wants to know how long Joey will be here.”
“It’s hard to say. Every child responds differently. Several days, at least.” Dixie glanced around the room. “Did he come with you?”
“He’s downstairs,” Carrie admitted. “He gets nervous in hospitals, so he went to smoke a cigarette.”
Dixie mentally filed away the information. “Maybe I’ll catch him next time. If you have any questions or concerns, talk to the nurses. They’ll call me if Joey takes a turn for the worse. Otherwise, I’ll see him in the morning.”
In the hallway near the nurses’ station, Dixie pulled Rebecca aside and spoke in a low voice. “I want a urine specimen collected for a cotinine level.”
“Never heard of it,” Rebecca said. “What is it?”
“Cotinine is a breakdown product of nicotine. It’s positive in smokers and those who’ve been exposed to secondhand smoke.”
“Ah,” the nurse nodded knowingly. “I’ll warn you, though. I doubt if our lab tests for it on site and if they don’t, it will take several days to get a result.”
“I understand, but impress on them that if it’s at all possible, I want the figures before Joey goes home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Dixie stopped in front of Mark. “I’m ready if you are.” At the sudden gleam in his eyes, she added, “To leave.”
“Did you mean something else?” he asked innocently as he helped her with her coat.
“Never mind.”
As he followed her to the elevator, he said, “I overheard you order a cotinine level.”
She stopped and rested on her crutches. “Is that a problem?”
“Not with me. I assume you’re going to use Joey’s results to convince his father to stop smoking.”
“If he doesn’t light up inside the house, he has nothing to worry about, does he?”
“Hey!” He raised his hands. “I’m all for doing whatever it takes to ensure that Joey has clean air to breathe. I only wish I’d thought of it myself. Brilliant strategy, Dr Albright.”
She’d expected him to talk her out of her order, not endorse it. “We won’t know how brilliant it is until the results come in, but it’s worth a try.”
“ ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained,’ ” he quoted. Once they’d reached the front door on the main level, he said, “Where to next?”
“Home.”
“Big plans?”
She chuckled. “Not unless you consider a quick trip to the store as a ‘big plan.’ My day doesn’t start right if I don’t fall into my bowl of cornflakes every morning.”
“I was going there myself. I’ll give you a ride.”
She didn’t know if she should be flattered or irritated. “I can manage. I’m not crippled.”
“We’ll meet each other there anyway,” he said, sounding maddeningly practical. “You aren’t the only one with a Mother Hubbard cupboard, so we may as well carpool.”
She truly did appreciate his offer. Not only would she shorten the number of hours she spent alone with her thoughts and her list at Ned’s house, but spending time with Mark didn’t rate as any hardship. In fact, she couldn’t think of anyone with whom she’d rather spend a few more hours.
“I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” she said, trying not to sound over-eager.
“No trouble. Do you mind if we stop at our Italian restaurant first? They serve a buffet on Tuesday nights that is perfect for starving doctors like me.”
“You ate lunch, remember?”
“Yes, but I’ve had a busy afternoon. Burned a lot of calories.”
She laughed. “OK, dinner and grocery shopping. I still think I should drive myself, in case you get called to the hospital.”
“We’ll worry about that if it happens.”
And with that, the activities and logistics for the evening were settled.
Donatelli’s was packed, but Mark managed to find an intimate table for two in one corner. He’d also insisted on filling a plate for her, and when he returned with a platter piled high, she laughed aloud.
“Do you honestly expect me to eat that much?”
“It’s a requirement to taste everything,” he said. “The cook will feel slighted if you don’t.”
She picked up her fork. “You’ll have to roll me out of here if I finish this.”
His eyes flared with an emotion she could only describe as hungry. She’d seen it when her friends’ boyfriends looked at them, but it was exhilarating to be on the receiving end of such a glance.
“Somehow I doubt it,” he said before he twirled spaghetti around his fork. “How long are you going to be on crutches, did you say?”
“Technically, I don’t have to use them after the stitches come out on Thursday.”
“What exactly happened?”
“I fell on a patch of ice early one morning outside the hospital. I twisted my knee and although it was horribly swollen, I wasn’t too worried.”
“I hope you consulted Orthopedics.”
“Not then,” she admitted. “I babied it along, and did quite well until my knee occasionally started locking. I saw the head of the orthopedics department and he suggested an arthroscopy. I agreed, because if the problem was simple, they could repair the damage at the same time.”
“Which they obviously did.”
She nodded. “When it was over, the orthopedic surgeon said the procedure had been straightforward and I’d be back on my feet in no time.”
“And your knee brace?”
“That will come off on Thursday also. I’m wearing it longer than I need to, but I’d rather err on the side of caution. In another week or two, I expect to have full range of motion again.”
“You shouldn’t be working, should you?”
“I’m supposed to wait four to six weeks before I return to heavy work or sports, but since I’m not a construction worker or an athlete, I’m fine.”
“Yet you took a month off.”
“I was only going to take this week, but with Ned…” She didn’t finish that sentence. “Anyway, I had earned enough time off that I was going to lose it if I didn’t use it, so I decided this was a good opportunity to whittle down my banked hours.”
“Are you driving back to Chicago on Thursday?”
“Hardly,” she said wryly. “I’m sure the ER doctor here can do the honors with my knee. I’d do it myself if I wasn’t such a wimp.”
“You? A wimp?” His eyes sparkled with merriment.
“Oh, yes. I can dish pain out but I can’t take it.” She grinned. “On the other hand, I work for a grumpy old boss who may not let me off to go to the ER.”
“You’re right. He may not,” he agreed with a chuckle. “He’ll just have to do the job himself. To make sure it’s done right, of course.”
“Of course. By the way, have any interesting applicants contacted you?”
“Interesting, yes. Suitable, no. I’ll keep looking. You wouldn’t happen to know of anyone who’d like to move to a small town with a thriving practice and a progressive hospital?”
“Not off the top of my head, but if you haven’t found anyone, I’ll ask around when I go back to Chicago.”
For the first time since she’d come to Hope, she realized that she wasn’t eager to return to her familiar stomping grounds.
What a difference a mere twenty-four hours made.
No, that wasn’t quite right. Time hadn’t made the difference at all. It was the man seated across the table from her who could claim sole responsibility for her sudden discontent. This attrac
tive, sometimes overbearing and bossy but refreshingly gallant man had shown her how empty her life in Chicago really was, and he didn’t even know he’d done so.
Suddenly, she wasn’t as eager to find Ned as she had been when she’d arrived. The common goal of Mark and herself finding Ned allowed her to spend time with the handsome doctor that she otherwise wouldn’t have had, and every day’s delay meant one more day in Hope. One more day of dreaming that she wasn’t alone.
She’d almost be willing to let something develop between them, but fear held her back. In spite of her faith in her cousin, deep down she was afraid that it might be misplaced. And if it was, any relationship she developed with Mark in the interim would wither and die after the painful truth was revealed.
And that would be the biggest disappointment of all.
CHAPTER SIX
“WOULD you like a cup of hot chocolate?” Dixie asked as soon as Mark returned from de-icing Ned’s porch that same evening. She’d tried to tell him that he’d done enough for her after he’d carried in her groceries and doubled-checked the new garage door opener to be sure it worked, but he’d insisted.
So while he’d braved the cold once again, she’d quickly made hot chocolate. She’d tried to tell herself that she was only showing hospitality. That she merely wanted to repay him in some small way for everything he’d done when he could have left her to fend for herself. That sending him back into the cold without giving him an opportunity to warm up was cruel and heartless.
She knew otherwise. While those excuses were true to a certain degree, her real reason was that she simply didn’t want their evening to end.
“I’d love one.” He pulled off his leather gloves and stuffed them into his coat pocket before he dumped his coat on a kitchen chair.
“Have a seat,” she said, forcing her gaze off his sweater-clad shoulders and onto the cocoa as she filled two mugs.
Instead of doing so, he approached her and peered over her shoulder. “Is that home-made?”
The GP's Valentine Proposal Page 8
