Prognosis: Romance

by Gina Wilkins

  “I was with Shannon when she got the call,” he explained, glancing at Shannon, who had her arms filled with her weeping sister. “I followed her here to see if there’s anything I can do to help. What happened?”

  Virginia’s eyes were red and damp, but she seemed to be holding on to her composure for the sake of her family. “Kyle—you remember him—the one you rescued from drowning?”

  “I remember.”

  She blinked rapidly. “He was playing with his in-line skates in their driveway after dinner. It was such a nice evening and he loves playing outside until he absolutely has to come in. Stacy told him to stay away from the street and he said he would. It’s a long, smooth concrete driveway, plenty of room for him to skate safely. The twins were playing outside, too, and Stacy felt comfortable leaving them alone while she put the baby to bed. The next thing she knew, the twins were screaming that…that Kyle had been hit by a car.”

  Overhearing, Stacy pulled away from Shannon with a sob, though she looked as though she were trying to pull herself together. “He wasn’t anywhere near the road when I went inside,” she insisted. “Baylee said he built a ramp out of some concrete blocks and a piece of plywood he found in the garage. He wanted to do skating tricks. He jumped over the ramp and then couldn’t stop himself and he…he…”

  “He skated right out into the road and into the path of a car,” Hollis finished when his daughter choked on a fresh spate of tears. “He was brought here by ambulance. He was conscious when he came in, and Stacy said he talked a little to her before they sent her and J.P. out here to wait, so we’re hoping for the best.”

  “It’s a good thing that he was awake and talking, isn’t it, James?” Virginia asked, looking rather pleadingly at him.

  “It sounds encouraging,” he answered cautiously, though he was reluctant to make any judgments based on what little he’d heard so far.

  “He was wearing a helmet and knee pads,” Stacy said quickly. “I always make him wear them when he skates or bikes.”

  Helmets saved many lives, but when a child was hit by a car, a helmet provided only limited protection, James thought with a grimness he didn’t want the family to see.

  “J.P. got a call from the dispatcher, who had recognized the address,” Stu said, nodding toward his somber-looking brother-in-law, whose shock of silver hair stood out from the sea of redheads surrounding him. Despite the hair color, James doubted J.P. was much more than thirty-five. “J.P. got here about the same time as the ambulance. He got to see Kyle for a few minutes with Stacy.”

  “Where are the other kids?” Shannon asked.

  “Our neighbor saw the ambulance and rushed out to see if she could help,” Stacy replied wearily, wiping her face with a snowy handkerchief her dad had given her. “She said she’d stay at our house and watch the twins and the baby tonight.”

  Still looking rattled, Shannon pushed her tumbled red curls from her face and motioned toward her brother-in-law as she glanced up at James. “I guess you’ve realized this is Stacy’s husband, J. P. Malone. J.P., this is James Stillman.”

  “Dr. James Stillman,” Virginia correctly quickly. “The man who saved Kyle’s life at the lake, J.P.”

  “Just James.” He shook J.P.’s hand, liking the man’s agreeably plain face. “I’m a fourth-year med student, not a doctor yet.” He saw no need to add that he already had one doctoral degree, so the form of address wasn’t technically incorrect.

  J.P.’s voice was deep, with a slight country drawl. “I’ve been wanting to meet you and thank you for what you did for Kyle. The whole family’s been talking about the hero they met at the lake.”

  “What have they told you about Kyle?” Shannon asked before James had to come up with a response. “You said he was talking to you when he arrived?”

  Stacy nodded. “J.P. and I were with him until just a couple of minutes before you got here. He didn’t say much because they’d already given him something for pain and he was groggy, but he knew who we were. They needed to prep him for surgery, so they told us to wait out here. They said they’d give us regular updates about his progress, but we haven’t heard anything yet.”

  “Surgery?”

  “They had me sign a bunch of forms authorizing surgery and blood transfusions, if necessary. There was some internal bleeding,” J.P. explained grimly. “He has a broken leg, too, but they said they aren’t going to worry about that just yet.”

  Her face pale with worry, Virginia tugged on James’s sleeve. “James, dear, do you think you could go into the operating room and check on Kyle for us?”

  “No, ma’am, I can’t go into the O.R.,” he answered gently. “They’ll send someone out with an update as soon as they can. In the meantime, can I get you anything? Coffee? A soda?”

  “No, thank you. You’re sure you can’t go back and check on him? Don’t you have an ID or something to show them you’re a doctor?”

  Shannon sighed. “Mom, he said he can’t go back. Don’t make him sorry he came with me, okay?”

  Virginia frowned. “I just asked.”

  “It’s okay,” James murmured to Shannon. “I know she’s worried.”

  “Internal injuries.” Stacy, too, looked at James, as if for reassurance. “That’s not always terrible news, right? It could be something minor?”

  “I can’t really tell you anything without knowing more details,” he replied, unwilling to offer possibly false hope. “But the doctors here are the best. Your son is in excellent hands.”

  Shannon shot him a look, and he couldn’t tell if she thought he was saying the wrong things to her family. He could read neither approval nor disapproval in her usually expressive face. What would she have him say? That he was sure her nephew would be fine? He couldn’t promise that without knowing the facts, as she must surely understand.

  “Isn’t there someone you can talk to, James?” Virginia pleaded again.

  Feeling the weight of the entire family’s gazes upon him, James dug into his pocket for his medical-school ID. “I’ll see if anyone I know is on duty in the emergency department,” he conceded, clipping the ID to his shirt and wishing he had on the white coat that opened a few more doors for him. “No promises, though—remember, I’m only a med student. And privacy laws prevent them from telling me much, anyway, since I’m not a member of the family.”

  “You have our permission for them to tell you anything,” Stacy assured him fervently.

  He didn’t think she would be interested at that moment in hearing exactly how the privacy laws worked. Instead, he merely nodded and headed for the ED, wondering what he’d say when he got there.

  Shannon frowned at her mother when James disappeared through the waiting room doors. “James came as a friend, Mom, not as a doctor. You shouldn’t put him in an awkward position with his coworkers here.”

  Unfazed by the chiding, her mother simply shrugged. “I’m sorry, but when it comes to my grandson’s care, I’ll pull any string I can find. Maybe someone in there will know James and tell him more than we’ve found out so far.”

  A hospital volunteer in a cheery blue sleeveless jacket with a photo ID badge pinned to the chest approached the corner of the large, busy waiting lobby where they milled. “Malone family?”

  Stacy and J.P. moved forward instantly with the rest of the family crowding behind them. “Yes?” Stacy said eagerly.

  The fiftysomething volunteer smiled kindly. “I’ve been asked to tell you that your son has been taken into surgery. The doctors think it will take about two hours. You’ll be given updates every hour and one of the surgeons will talk to you when they’ve finished. In the meantime, I’ve just made fresh pots of coffee—both caffeinated and decaf—and there are sodas and snacks in the vending machines. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

  “Let’s sit down,” Shannon suggested, motioning toward an L-shaped arrangement of couches and chairs. She figured they’d better claim seats while they were available. The lobby was ge
tting more crowded. “Mom, are you sure you don’t want coffee? I’m going to get some for myself, I can bring you one, too.”

  Sinking onto the edge of a couch, her mother nodded. “Regular, not decaf. I need the boost.”

  “Dad?”

  He shook his head. “Not right now, thanks, honey.” He sat beside his wife, then gazed out the window into the parking lot, lost in his private concern for his grandson.

  Stu accompanied Shannon across the room to the coffee station. “Nerve-wracking.”

  Knowing he referred to the entire situation, she nodded. “Very.”

  “I think it’s a good thing that Kyle was talking to Stacy and J.P. The helmet probably protected him from head injury. Stacy said the car was moving pretty slowly and the driver was able to apply the brakes before Kyle collided with him.”

  She tried to take reassurance from his comments, as she knew he intended. “That sounds promising. The fact that he was talking and he recognized Stacy and J.P. surely means there’s no head injury.”

  “Yeah. The doctors will stitch up whatever’s bleeding and set the broken leg and he’ll be as good as new.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  Neither of them were certain of anything, Shannon thought somberly, but they had to keep thinking positively. She couldn’t bear to imagine any other outcome and she knew it was the same for Stu.

  “So how come James was with you tonight?” Stu asked as he poured steaming coffee into two foam cups. “Have you been seeing him since we met at the lake?”

  “A couple of times. Just as friends,” she said lightly, slipping packets of sugar and creamer into her pocket for her mother. “We did the gallery walk in the River Market tonight, then had dinner at the burrito place. I was just about to head home when you called. James offered to follow me here when I told him what happened, in case there was anything he could do. I’m not sure he expected Mom to nag him into trying to become our personal medical spy.”

  “He didn’t seem to mind, though he’s sort of a hard guy to read. Doesn’t share what he’d thinking much, does he?”

  “Compared to our family, most people are downright reserved,” she answered lightly. “Not everyone shares every thought that crosses their minds, the way we tend to do.”

  “True,” her brother acknowledged.

  Stu was right, though, Shannon thought as she carefully crossed the room again with a cup of coffee in each hand. James was very reserved. Though he’d seemed concerned about Kyle, he’d been notably reluctant to express any speculation about the boy’s condition, optimistic or otherwise. Because he hadn’t wanted to offer reassurances that might prove to be wrong? Or—she swallowed hard—because he’d suspected it was worse than they thought?

  She gave a cup of coffee to her mother, who set it on the table next to her without tasting it. Shannon sat on the other side of the table and carefully sipped her own hot beverage, though she took little pleasure from the taste. Mostly it just gave her something to do rather than wring her hands.

  “There’s James,” her mom said suddenly, turning on the couch.

  Shannon set down her cup and twisted to look in the direction her mother indicated. James was crossing the room toward them, accompanied by a tall, thin woman in a white coat over blue scrubs. Rising to her feet, as were the other members of the family, Shannon searched James’s face anxiously, trying to read something…anything…in his tranquil expression.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Malone?” the doctor inquired as Stacy and J.P. moved toward her.

  Stacy nodded. “Yes?”

  “I’m Dr. Luzader, a resident in the emergency department. I saw your son when he was brought in.”

  “Dr. Luzader was my resident when I rotated through the pediatric ED,” James murmured to Shannon. “I told her I was a friend of Kyle’s family and she agreed to come out with an update.”

  “Thank you,” she said fervently, squeezing his arm in gratitude before turning back to listen to the doctor.

  Dr. Luzader explained that Kyle had been stable when taken into surgery, and that scans had shown no head injuries, which was a good thing. There was some internal bleeding, she said, probably from a lacerated spleen. Surgery would show if any other internal organs were affected.

  “He can live without a spleen, right?” Stacy asked, pale but composed now.

  “Absolutely,” the doctor assured her. “There are some risks of infection afterward, but you’ll be instructed about that if he does have to lose the spleen. It could be the surgeons will be able to repair the organ without removing it—it depends on how serious the injury was. The same with any other injuries they might find while they’re in there. Once his abdominal injuries have been addressed, the orthopedic team will take care of his broken leg. He’ll probably need surgery for that in a day or two, but I don’t know that for certain. I’m not an orthopedist.”

  “So you’re saying that Kyle’s injuries are not life-threatening?” Hollis asked, a new hope lightening his deep voice.

  “There are always some risks following surgery,” the doctor answered candidly. “Infection is a concern, but he’ll be monitored very closely for the next few days. From what I saw, and barring any complications, Kyle should be fine. Trust me, I’ve seen much worse injuries come through here, even tonight.”

  Stacy blinked rapidly against fresh tears. “Thank you so much, Dr. Luzader.”

  “You’re welcome. One of the surgeons will be out to talk to you when they’ve finished. In the meantime, if you need anything, just ask the hostess, okay? And if you have any questions, maybe young James, here, can answer them,” she added with a quick, teasing smile that pushed dimples into her milk-chocolate-colored cheeks and reflected in her dark eyes. “See if he paid attention when he was on my service.”

  “Thanks, Kayla,” he said when she moved to return to her duties.

  The doctor wiggled her fingers at him and kept moving.

  It felt to Shannon as if the very air were lighter around her and her family after the doctor’s brief visit. She hoped they hadn’t read too much into the doctor’s guarded prediction that Kyle would be fine, but it was such a relief to see optimism returning to her parents’ and sister’s eyes.

  She smiled gratefully at James again. “That helped us all. Thank you.”

  “We were just lucky I happened to know the resident who saw Kyle. I certainly don’t know everyone who works here.”

  “So Kyle’s going to be okay?” Virginia asked James, almost nudging Shannon aside to get closer to him. “That’s what the doctor said, right?”

  “She said she’s seen much worse injuries,” he paraphrased. “There’s every reason for you to be positive about his prognosis.”

  Under any other circumstances, Shannon might have been a bit amused by his careful wording. He was in physician mode, she decided, courteous, professional…just a little detached. And while she appreciated what he’d done for them thus far, she would rather he be her friend than the doctor at that moment.

  Virginia continued to pelt James with medical questions, and he answered as patiently and thoroughly as if he were taking an oral exam, Shannon mused. He obviously knew his material and was able to explain it clearly enough for her family to understand. But there was still something different about the way he talked when he was being the doctor as opposed to just being James.

  She was both fascinated and bemused by the contrast. She always had the sense that there was an invisible wall around his emotions, but the wall became even more opaque when he went into what she was beginning to think of as his “doctor mode.” She wondered why. And she wondered if his patients were drawn to his demeanor. Did they find comfort in his obvious competence or were they a bit intimidated by it?

  She hadn’t even decided which way she felt.

  It was almost eleven when the surgery was completed and the family was informed that Kyle was being moved to recovery. The surgeon, a gruff-spoken man with an intriguingly homely face and nota
bly graceful hands, assured them that Kyle was a lucky boy. The injured spleen had been repaired rather than removed, and the other injuries had been limited to contusions and relatively minor lacerations. The broken leg would require surgery, which would be scheduled through the orthopedics department, but that, too, should heal fully with proper care.

  Shannon was finally able to draw a deep breath when the surgeon left the family alone again to process what they’d been told. The surgeon had promised to send someone out to get Stacy and J.P. soon so they could join Kyle in recovery before he was transferred to a room for the night.

  “Thank heaven,” Virginia sighed, her face tired, but her eyes gleaming with relief. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, then tossed it in a nearby trash container. “Now if only we can keep him safe long enough to heal.”

  “I swear, someone’s going to have to start watching that boy every single minute,” Hollis agreed, the release of tension making him sound gruffer than usual. “It’s a miracle he’s lived to be eight.”

  J.P. grimaced ruefully at James. “I had dark hair until Kyle learned to walk,” he said, running a hand through his silver mane.

  James smiled. “I can believe that.”

  “His broken leg will heal, right?” Stacy asked James, almost as if she were afraid to believe all would be well. “You don’t think he’ll have a limp or anything like that, do you?”

  Shannon watched as his smile faded instantly into his “doctor look.” “The orthopedic surgeons here are very skilled. I’ve seen them rebuild limbs that were completely shattered. Kyle’s in good hands.”

  Almost exactly the same words he’d used earlier, she recalled. He seemed to have developed certain comments to use in certain situations in his job—like the “in good hands” remark.

  Because he always seemed so comfortable making conversation in other situations, she wondered if he was a bit awkward tonight because he was sort of on the sidelines. Not really a family friend, not really a doctor. He’d hinted about leaving a few times while they awaited the outcome of Kyle’s surgery—his excuse being that he didn’t want to intrude on their family crisis—but each time, there’d been an outcry from the family. Mostly from Virginia, who seemed to believe James was her own personal liaison to the hospital staff, even though he’d done nothing more since finding the emergency-department resident.