by Lyz Kelley
“I need to—”
“Stay here. Please, trust me.” He backed her away from the door. “I’ll come to get you when it’s safe. Promise.”
He opened the door, stepped into the hall, and shut the door behind him.
She did trust him, but what was he thinking? The idiot. He could be shot!
Chapter 11
Code Silver Pediatrics. Code Silver.
Oh. My. God. McKenzie moved away from the nursery prep room door.
Bam-bam-bam her heartbeat pulsed in her temples. Body parts seemed to cross, shift, twitch and uncross all on their own. Every muscle tightened and waited in suspense. Curiosity and stubbornness and determination slipped in between the cracks of her fear when Garrett didn’t immediately return. She might not go into the hall, but she absolutely wouldn’t be left clueless. Grabbing the handle of the prep room interior door, she tugged and then moved toward the massive observation window. Her breath hitched and she covered her mouth to prevent sound.
A bear of a man pointed the weapon first at two critical care nurses, and then at Beth. Panicked pediatric nurses backed away. The gunman’s hand shook. Beth didn’t move, but her eyes darted left. A “hey-buddy” shout shifted the man’s attention, and his arm swung toward the new threat. The attacker’s drug-fevered eyes and weapon were riveted on the doctor. Damn you, Garrett.
Like a slow-motion picture, Garrett walked into the scene framed by the window. His hands were open and raised to shoulder height. The gunman raised his gun arm and leveled it at Garrett’s collarbone. The scruffy man outweighed Garrett by at least seventy pounds and stood a good six inches taller. Garrett wasn’t a small guy, but this Sasquatch could intimidate.
The black metal pistol and the flashing red warning light above the nurse’s station registered in her mind—one a beacon of destruction, the other a beacon of hope.
Trust me. His instincts and confidence never failed to deliver. She hoped today wouldn’t prove him wrong.
He held the man’s attention. Talking to him. Soothing him. Behind him, nurses and other medical personnel backed into rooms or ran for help.
“Code silver. Pediatrics. Code silver,” a male’s calm voice announced again over the loudspeaker. Garrett, a policy maker and follower, knew not to approach a gunman, but there he stood, distracting the man so others could get to safety.
Why couldn’t you wait for security?
Her heartbeat picked up speed, its thudding making it hard for her to hear anything else.
The gunman lifted the pistol higher, his intention clear. Garrett took a stiff step back, back toward the nursery door, but then stopped. Both men stood their ground, neither budged nor blinked. The man shouted a stream of profanities and turned the gun sideways, his index finger resting on top of the metal, his eyes intense with meaning.
“Where’s my baby?” Drugged belligerence fueled the man’s demand and made her nauseous.
Please, no. She closed her eyes, waiting for the anticipated pop, pop, pop.
The image forced her back in time. A gun pointed at her head. The cold metal jammed against her temple. The click of the gun. The beastly laughter when she wet herself. An unexpected surge of anger pushed through the fog of fear. She detested the control the stalker still exerted over her. He took three days of her life, and she’d allowed the fear to grow and fester for three years. The Sasquatch in Pediatrics would not do the same.
When she didn’t hear the expected crack of the gun, she peered around the wall’s edge.
Those babies are my responsibility. Garrett’s words infiltrated her mind. His unwavering, fixed determination meant he intended to back his words with action.
Our responsibility, she amended.
Without another thought, she returned to the nursery prep room door and locked it, and then went to secure the interior nursery door.
Across the room, a scared mother a few feet away could only watch the evolving scene, frozen, her eyes unwavering, while a young nurse tried to yank her away from the window. McKenzie understood that look of paralyzing terror, but the thought of Ellie, the other infants, and Garrett putting his life on the line forced back her hysteria.
Bent over at the waist, she ran, batting the swarm of numbing madness away.
Think. Focus. Breathe.
Nearing the second nursery door, the one leading to the hallway, she paused when angry voices penetrated through the metal.
“…my baby…”
“...now.”
“Hey, man…”
She pushed her arms and legs faster. Her muscles burned. Her mouth tasted of panic. She stretched her arm, reaching for the lock. The voices grew louder and louder. The instant her fingertips touched metal, she twisted her wrist, sliding the bolt home.
A beat of silence held her suspended in time, and then the doorknob rattled back and forth, but the door didn’t open. It vibrated after a booted kick, but again didn’t open.
Her legs crumpled and she collapsed against the wall. Her fists curled against her thudding chest. She turned her face away and held her breath. Medical equipment and her heartbeat thumped in rhythm. An eternity of seconds passed.
Finally it was silent. She released a breath with a whoosh of relief until a cold hand clamped onto her wrist. Panic choked off a scream.
In the distance a monitor alarm sounded. The young volunteer’s wild eyes pleaded with her for help. McKenzie whispered the words, “Let’s go.”
Adrenaline propelled McKenzie to her feet. She scanned the rows of infants.
Halfway down the second row a horrific groan stopped her dead. A mother reached for her son with trembling hands. A high-pitched whimper, a sound no one other than a terrified mother could make, filled the room.
No. No. No. NO, McKenzie thought.
Losing this child couldn’t happen.
Not now.
Not because of that man.
Reversing her steps, she beat the volunteer to the isolette by a fraction of a second.
She recognized the young woman. A nursing trainee. McKenzie’s wide, hesitant eyes connected with hers. “You know what to do. Now do it,” McKenzie said in a calm, confident tone, despite her insides clenching with panic.
The untried trainee swallowed hard, nodded and reached an unsteady hand forward. McKenzie grabbed the girl’s unsure hands. “You’ve got this. Relax. Let your training do the work.”
She squeezed the pre-nurse’s fingers, trying to infuse her touch with a sense of trust and courage and hope, and then turned and locked the hysterical mother in her arms, comforting and soothing, and sending a silent prayer to the little boy who lay like a corpse on the table.
Come on, baby, breathe.
Sweat trickled down her temple.
The monitor’s continuous shrill warning made her grip the edge of the isolette tighter. Come on, baby boy. Your momma needs you.
Seconds ticked by.
Silence.
Oh, God. Please don’t take him.
The young woman halted resuscitation. McKenzie wanted to scream, Do something. A shard of fury rose in her throat, but then a small yet significant movement blocked her rage.
The boy’s chest expanded, and a small whimper turned into a wail. McKenzie released the mother. Joy replaced the feeling of doom. The baby’s bluish-red face became a beautiful miracle. Listening to the furious cry, McKenzie whispered a silent prayer of gratitude. Tears of joy filled her eyes, and the three women clutched hands and then shared hugs in celebration.
McKenzie glanced at the volunteer’s badge. “Laura Roberts, well done.”
The young woman’s entire demeanor shifted from insecure to confident at the praise, and she turned toward the boy’s mother. “Ma’am your son needs you to hold him.” Laura lifted the tiny body into his mother’s waiting arms.
Not wanting to interfere with such a private moment, McKenzie stepped back, her thoughts returning to the gunman and the silent corridor.
Where was Garrett?
&nbs
p; Remembering Ellie’s attending nurse had rushed to help, McKenzie moved to the baby’s crib and peered down at Ellie, who blinked at her, flailing her small arms in greeting. Lifting the baby from the isolette, she threw a flannel blanket over her little girl for warmth. Exhaustion seeped into her adrenaline-depleted body. She shifted Ellie in her arms before moving to the rocker but froze when the hall door handle moved.
Her legs bent in a crouch, and she slid the nearest drawer open, searching for a weapon. Feeling cold metal, she clutched a pair of scissors to her chest seconds before settling on her rear end and pushing back with her feet. She moved under a table into the darkness and settled Ellie in the crook of her neck to muffle the baby’s sounds. The door locks releasing heightened her awareness. She gripped the shears in her hand, ready to use the weapon. Her protective arms hugged Ellie closer. Her pulse drummed a fierce cadence.
Protect this baby—no matter what. Her thoughts cycled over and over and over again. Take back control. Fight.
Heavy, frantic, pounding footsteps approached.
“Mac?” A figure crouched down in front of the table. She fisted her hand and raised the scissors higher, ready to strike. “Mac, it’s me, Garrett.”
“Garrett?”
He reached a tentative hand toward her and relieved her of the sharp weapon, sliding the scissors across the room. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” He reached for Ellie, and she loosened her grip.
When he disappeared from view with the baby, McKenzie pushed from under the metal structure and attempted to stand but failed. Her body curled in on itself, and she rested her chin on her knees and fought a new battle.
The demons of the past made her hands tremble and her body shiver, frigid with the aftermath of shock. She stared straight ahead, unseeing, until strong, warm arms wrapped around her shoulders, and then under her legs, lifting her from the cold, tiled floor. Lost in a traumatic hurricane, she allowed Garrett to brace her against his chest and cradle her. He settled into Ellie’s rocking chair and began a slow back and forth rhythm. A comforting rhythm. A rhythm she knew.
The warmth of his cheek resting on her head penetrated her scalp. His body heat and the silence eased her thoughts. Minutes passed. She fought to calm her breath. The images of the past hour pummeled her mind.
A picture of the little boy in the next room surfaced, and she stiffened. “The babies? The nurses?”
“All fine,” he said and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “The nurses are attending to the babies now.”
“You were amazing.” She settled back into his arms. “Thank you.”
“For?”
She could hear his confusion. He would consider his actions as part of his job. The hospital Board wouldn’t, but he would. Saving everyone from a crazed gunman wasn’t his job and against hospital policy?
“Thank you for protecting Beth and the others.” She curled her arms tighter into her chest. “What did that man want?”
“He claims to be an infant’s father. He’s searching for his baby and has a history with the cops. He’s a known schizophrenic.”
“Why schizophrenic? He seemed to know what he was doing.”
“About a year ago his wife had a child, but he’s so out of touch with reality he doesn’t know time has passed. His wife divorced him and left the state. For him time hasn’t changed.”
“He doesn’t think Ellie is his, does he?”
“He might. Her story has run on all the news channels. He might be confusing her with his child.”
Protectiveness unsheathed McKenzie’s maternal claws, and her fear for the nurses returned. “Please tell me the police will get him some help.”
“For starters, he’ll get some stitches. He’s got a nice gash from when security took him down. Then he’ll spend a night in jail and be arraigned in the morning. Hopefully, a judge can find a psych ward or somewhere safe.”
His courage left her in awe. “I can’t believe you walked up to him when he had a gun.”
“He wasn’t going to shoot anyone. I needed to distract him long enough to get the nurses and patients out of firing range, in case the gun went off.”
“But why would you do that? I mean—”
“The same reason you locked the doors.”
A rush of pride, and then apprehension descended. She should check on Beth. She should call her dad and tell him what happened. She should see how the mother fared. But all the thousands of shoulds weren’t enough to force her to leave his arms.
From the slight tremor in his muscular chest, she knew he’d been more affected by the event than he’d admit. She listened to the firm and steady beat of his heart and was lost. Two bodies, two minds, melded together by a single purpose—a perfect fit.
“Mac, would you do me a favor?”
“You’re awful needy, Doctor, always asking for favors.”
“Never mind.” His cheek rested on the top of her head, but he kept rocking.
Maybe their earlier conversation had created unwarranted assumptions. She lifted her chin to see his face. “I need to work on my sarcasm.”
When he said nothing, she tilted his chin toward her using a fingertip, until he met her gaze. “Tell me?”
His chest expanded, and then released a deep breath. “Would you sing for me?”
Underneath the solid layer of manhood lived a little boy who needed comforting. Her heart dissolved into mush. She fought the instinct to run her fingers down his jaw. He didn’t want coddling. Instead, she flattened her hand on his chest and cuddled closer, letting him feel needed. Out of habit, she started a lullaby, and then stopped.
Today she’d faced her demons and won. Maybe the time had come to put away the iron ball of fear and take her life back fully.
Three years earlier, in the darkened Broadway theater, she had hummed along with each song, knowing every word, verse, and crescendo intimately. Since that night, she hadn’t hummed a single note of her favorite show tunes. Now it was time. Time to let go. She took a deep breath. The first note drifted into the room, and then the second until the melody grew bold. She freed the song from her heart. Each note combined to create an emotional release. When the song ended, she began another. And he rocked.
For the first time in years, she felt safe.
Needed.
“There you are.” Beth came rushing through the door, out of breath.
McKenzie bolted upright and shot out of his arms. She grabbed the nearest cabinet and waited for sufficient blood to return to her head to stop the room spinning. The intense, sensual glitter in his eyes warmed her and made her want to crawl back into his lap. She smoothed her sweaty palms over her slacks.
Beth’s forward movement stopped like she’d hit a brick wall. “Oops. Seems I interrupted something juicy. The police want to talk to you both before you leave. Do you want me to stall them a little longer?”
“Now. Let’s do this now,” McKenzie said. Not until she backed into a table did she realize her feet had other ideas. She giggled, still on the edge of shock. “I should go speak to them.”
“No. I’ll go.” He stood.
A grin spread across Beth’s face. “For heaven’s sake. I didn’t mean to get you two all worked up.” She tipped her head toward Garrett. “Think he’ll rock me if I ask pretty please?”
The absurdity of the question made McKenzie pause, but her superhero wasn’t sticking around for Beth’s antics.
Mumbling a mix of obscenities, he yanked the door open and left.
“Did you need to push more buttons?” she asked, giving her friend a what-for look.
Beth scratched her head and shrugged. “I know you’re supposed to defend him, being engaged and all, but the man comes in here and questions everything I do. Hon, I’ve been nursing a very, very, very long time.”
“Yes, you have. And, that’s the best reason to have a fresh set of eyes take a peek, see if there’s room for improvement.”
“Smarty pants.” Beth cocked her head toward
the door. “He reminds me too much of my late husband.”
“I thought you loved Gus.”
“I loved him from his bald head to his dirty socks. But he was always right—every pea-pickin’ time. It irked me for thirty-two years. Cocky S.O.B. Told me when he was dead and gone, I’d miss him even more. He was right about that too.”
“I realize Dr. Branston doesn’t make liking him easy, but he’s a good man.”
“He’s got gumption. This place has already tested him, chewed him up and spit him out. Pickle is a good man, but he still needs to develop a better bedside manner.”
McKenzie laughed. “Pickle? I thought he was Mr. Rhino to you.”
“Naw. I called him that to back him off. He enjoys throwing his size around. He is the size of a bull, but that doesn’t mean he has a right to slam into people. It was the nurses who started calling him Pickle. You know Branston Pickle. That brown English stuff. Sweet, a little sour, like relish. Seems to fit.”
“I’m not sure he’s going to relish being called Pickle.”
“If he keeps getting himself in a pickle, he won’t have a choice in the matter.”
McKenzie held up her hands in defeat. “Okay, okay…you win. And it worked, see? I’m smiling now.”
But the day’s events intruded again. What if she had lost Beth? Or Garrett? What then? She hugged Beth. “I’m so glad nothing happened to you.”
Her friend hugged back. “I saw much worse as an Army field nurse. That’s why I stayed on the farm for all those years before coming back to the city. Too many bad memories. Too many triggers that might send me back in time.”
“I know about bad memories.” She leaned back, a ball of concern lodging in her throat. “You okay?”
“You did right locking those doors, Missy.”
“I’m glad it’s over. Look.” She lifted her hand. “I’m still shaking.”
“We should check on The Pickle Man and then get you something to eat before you hit the floor a second time.”
McKenzie opened the hall door and watched the doctor, the hospital’s hero, giving his statement to the police. She could already imagine tomorrow’s news headlines.
