by R J Nolan
“On three.” She braced herself against the side of the bed. “One. Two. Three.”
Although she considered herself fairly strong, Logan strained to lift the man high enough to slide him off the EMTs’ gurney and onto the ER bed.
Dale had no such issue and took some of Logan’s share of the weight.
Once the man was situated, she turned to Dale and smiled. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Dale offered a hesitant smile.
The EMTs out of the way, Logan moved to the side of the bed and began her assessment. “Dale, check out the bottles and pills. See what we’re dealing with, please.”
Dale grabbed the bag and turned away to spread out the pills and bottles on the counter along the wall.
When Logan leaned over the man with her penlight and checked his pupillary responses, he thrashed his head. His belly heaved, and he gagged.
Logan grabbed his shoulder and belt, intent on rolling him onto his side so he wouldn’t aspirate if he vomited. Even pulling as hard as she could, she barely got him a few inches off the gurney. Panting with effort, she called out, “Dale. Help. He’s retching.”
Dale spun around. She dropped the safety rail on her side and wedged her hands under his body, grabbing large handfuls of his clothing. “Now. Pull.”
Logan pulled with all her might as Dale pushed from behind. Holland jumped in to help from Logan’s side of the bed. When they got him lifted up enough, Dale bent, shoved her shoulder under his back, and straightened. The tendons in Dale’s neck stood out in sharp relief with the effort.
Just when Logan thought they were going to have to call for more help, they got him onto his side. The moment that was accomplished, he vomited over the side of the bed.
Every instinct screamed at her to let go of him, but she couldn’t. If he rolled even partway onto his back, he would aspirate.
“Patty. Go grab as many blankets as you can,” Dale said.
The nurse sprinted from the room.
Dale, her weight pressed against the man’s back, managed a grin in Logan’s direction. “Hope you got that last lab coat clean.”
Logan mock-scowled.
Patty Holland rushed back with an armload of blankets. She locked the safety rail in place on Dale’s side of the patient, working around her as she rolled up the blankets and jammed them behind the man. Thankfully, in this case, his size worked to their advantage, as he already almost filled the bed from side to side. After what seemed like forever, she said, “Got it. You guys can let go.”
Flexing her hands to get the circulation going again, Logan stepped back and quickly assessed the patient’s status. The emesis had stopped, and Holland was suctioning his mouth. Satisfied that things were under control at least for the moment, she looked down at herself and grimaced. The side of her lab coat was heavily splattered with vomit. She peeled off the soiled coat and grabbed a protective gown. Better late than never.
She glanced over at Dale, whose face was streaked with sweat. She bit her tongue to keep from asking if she was okay. She knew without being told that Dale would not appreciate the question in front of a coworker. She’s managed just fine up to now without your concern. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Any time.” Unlike Dale’s earlier smile, this one reached her eyes, making the gray irises appear streaked with blue.
Beautiful. The unexpected thought caught Logan off guard. Keep your mind on work, she sternly ordered herself.
Holland spread some chux pads on the floor to cover the mess.
As a team, Logan and Dale set to work stabilizing the patient.
CHAPTER 8
Dale sat in a chair along the back wall, staring unseeingly at her prosthetic leg. The noise of the busy physical therapy department faded around her as her thoughts went back to last night. Logan asking her without hesitation for help with a strenuous task, so soon after discovering her amputation, had been unexpected, to say the least. It had been like a soothing balm over the jangled emotions that having to bare her scars to Logan had caused.
“Earth to Dale.”
Dale jumped at the sound of a voice so close. She jerked her head sideways and mock-glared at the offender. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Oh right. I’m as quiet as a ghost around here with this damn thing.” Casey grabbed the wheels of her chair and spun one in each direction. The rubber squeaked on the linoleum floor. “I can’t wait till I can wear my legs again.”
“What did Walters say?”
Casey’s shoulders slumped. “He wants me to try a different antibiotic. Infection just doesn’t want to let go.”
“Damn.” Dale worked to keep her expression from showing how worried she really was. Casey had been fighting this infection for four weeks. She leaned out of her chair and put her hand on Casey’s thigh. “You’ll get through this. It’s just a temporary setback.” She squeezed Casey’s leg. “Embrace the suck.”
Casey smiled and put her hand on top of Dale’s. “Isn’t that my line?”
“You taught me well.”
“Enough about me. What’s up with you? I called your name three times. You were really out in space.”
“Sorry. So what’s the plan for today? Are we helping here, or are there any new admissions?” While Casey worked here full-time, Dale donated a few hours every day to work with other veterans at the Veterans Administration hospital. Although most of the staff and patients knew she was a physician, she was not here in that capacity. Her volunteer work was the reason she chose to permanently work the night shift at LA Metro. That left her free during the day.
“The plan is for you to tell me what’s bothering you.”
“Just some stuff at work.” She pushed herself off the chair and stood. “Carlo got his temp this morning and has been struggling. I think I’ll go see if I can give him some pointers.”
Casey grabbed the back of Dale’s shorts as she stepped past her wheelchair. “Not so fast.”
Dale glared at her over her shoulder, but Casey didn’t let go. She blew out a breath.
“What happened at work?” Casey let go of her shorts but looked ready to grab her again if she tried to walk away.
You knew she wouldn’t let it go. They had been through too much together for Casey to ever ignore anything that might upset her. And she felt the same about her. Casey had been there for her every step of the way as she struggled to regain her life. She plopped down in the chair next to Casey’s wheelchair and quickly conveyed the events at work last night.
Her gaze swept Dale from head to toe. “How bad were you really hurt?”
“I told you. The bruise was it. Why doesn’t anyone believe me? Geez.”
“Forget who you’re talking to?” Casey arched an eyebrow. “Do you remember that time, right after you got your first temp that—”
Dale shoved Casey’s shoulder, knocking her sideways in the wheelchair. “Never mind.”
Casey laughed. Then her expression turned serious. “So this doctor, she examined you after and…”
She nodded. “Yeah. Insisted on examining my shoulder. And then pulled up my damn pant leg to look at my knee before I could stop her.”
“Ah, crap.” Casey bumped shoulders with Dale.
“No kidding.”
Things were different here than in the civilian world. She looked at her exposed prosthesis. In the VA hospital, she didn’t feel the need to wear the cosmetic cover to camouflage the metal parts of the leg. Here, her missing limb was a badge of honor, not a source of pity. Her gaze went to Casey, and she tried to see her as a stranger would. People tended to look past Casey’s pretty face, surrounded by thick, wavy blond hair, and her bright hazel eyes and focus on her bilateral above-the-knee amputations. Unlike Dale, Casey refused to hide her missing limbs despite having to strive to be seen in the outside world
as something more than her injuries. Hell, Casey even went out in public wearing her stubbies while Dale still struggled with wearing shorts anywhere but in the VA hospital, even with the cosmetic cover over her prosthesis. She wondered how Logan would react to Casey. Dale shook away the strange thought. She couldn’t imagine inviting Logan, or anyone else for that matter, to share this part of her life.
“Let me guess, she went all pity-party on you and acted like you were suddenly helpless?” Casey asked.
“No, actually she didn’t.” Dale was surprised to find herself bristling. After all, she had assumed the same thing about Logan. She filled Casey in on the events that took place after Logan discovered her amputation.
“So she was cool with it. That’s good.”
“Yeah. It’s just…” Dale shrugged. Although Logan had seemed more than okay with it, her knowing still bothered Dale. Then there was the whole incident report thing.
“What?” Casey poked her in the ribs when she didn’t respond.
“When I checked my e-mail, there was a copy of the incident report from last night. Logan didn’t include anything about my scars or amputation in the report.”
“I thought you said you asked her not to say anything.” Casey’s brow furrowed. “So that’s good—right? She respected your privacy.”
Dale huffed. “Yeah. I mean, sure. I was worried that she would treat me differently, like I needed help with anything physical involving patients, and start my coworkers wondering about me. Thankfully, she didn’t. But I never expected her to leave the information off the official report.” She let the familiar sights and sounds of the busy PT department wash over her as she debated whether to tell Casey what was really bothering her. She glanced back at Casey to find her watching her, waiting her out. Just spit it out. “Now I feel like I owe her. And it makes me…uncomfortable.”
Casey gave Dale’s thigh a brief squeeze. “You don’t owe her anything. It was her choice to do that. I know I’m just a beat-up helo jockey and not a doctor, but it seems to me that the other stuff she saw had nothing to do with your injury from the patient kicking you, so it’s not a big deal leaving it out.”
“That’s true but…” Pushing up out of the chair, Dale stood. “It doesn’t feel that way.”
“Then thank her. Maybe bring her a little something as a thank-you.”
Dale paced in front of Casey’s wheelchair. She didn’t know Logan well enough to come up with something she would like—much less accept.
“Stop.” Casey leaned out of her chair and grabbed Dale’s shorts again. “You’re making me dizzy.” She tugged at Dale’s waistband. “Sit down.”
Scowling, Dale looked down at her. “Keep your hands off my shorts, woman.”
“You wish some woman had her hands in your shorts.”
“Casey!”
Casey threw back her head and laughed at the blush that heated Dale’s face.
Dale looked around to see if anyone was paying any attention to their conversation. While the much hated don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy was no longer in effect, Dale had still not gotten used to not having to hide her sexuality. “You are so bad.” She flopped into the chair next to Casey.
“And you love it.”
Dale grinned. “Okay, back to Logan. So get her something. Like what?”
“Keep it simple. You’re always complaining about the lousy coffee at the hospital. How about a good cup of coffee and maybe a muffin or donut?”
“That could work.” But Dale knew the real question was, would Logan accept it? She was all too aware of Logan’s almost pathological avoidance of sharing anything personal or becoming friendly with anyone on the staff. She started calling you Dale, she reminded herself. It was worth a try; whether she accepted was up to Logan.
“Are you two going to spend all morning jackin’ your jaws, or is someone going to give me a hand?” a voice boomed from across the room.
Dale looked over to where Carlo stood between the parallel bars. Even from here, she could see he wasn’t standing squarely with the same amount of weight on each leg. It was a common issue with new amputees.
Laughing, Casey flipped him off. “What? Two not enough for you? Hey, Barry, Carlo needs a hand.”
Barry picked up his arm that was lying next to him on the table and waved the prosthesis in Carlo’s direction.
Carlo returned the one-fingered-salute to Casey.
Casey released the brakes on her chair, pushed away from the wall, then glanced back at Dale. “You good?”
“Yeah.” Dale stood next to Casey’s chair and squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” She motioned with her head toward Carlo. “Come on, you can show him how it’s done.”
CHAPTER 9
As Dale neared the door to the staff lounge, she glanced at the cardboard tray she was carrying. It held a cup of coffee and a small paper bag with a Del Java logo. Casey’s idea had been a good one. Pushing the door open, she let her gaze sweep the room. As expected, Logan was early for her shift and sitting on the couch at the back of the room. Dale knew she needed to be quick before the nursing staff came in for the change-of-shift meeting. She marched up to the couch.
Logan looked up and offered a smile, which quickly disappeared, and her usual placid expression took its place. She nodded in greeting before returning to her journal article.
Holding out the tray, Dale said, “Here. I brought this for you. Just a little thank-you.”
When Logan looked up, a frown marred her face. “What for?”
“For yesterday.”
Logan eyed the tray as if it held the poison apple that had tempted Snow White. “I can’t accept that.”
“It’s just a cup of coffee and a pumpkin scone. Not a diamond necklace.”
Shaking her head, Logan leaned back against the couch as if trying to distance herself from the offering. “I was just doing my job.”
Dale blew out a breath. “Logan, I read the incident report.”
“I noted everything that was noteworthy.” Logan shrugged, apparently trying for casual, but it looked forced.
“Regardless, I appreciate it.” She offered the tray to Logan again.
Logan’s hands tightened around her journal, and she shook her head.
The door to the lounge swung open, and a group of nurses flooded in.
Dale placed the tray next to Logan’s leg. She leaned down so as not to be overheard. “I brought it for you. Toss it if you don’t want it.” Although she had known it was a possibility, she couldn’t help being disappointed by Logan’s adamant refusal of her simple gift. After one last glance at Logan, she turned and strode from the room.
Logan glanced over the counter of the nurses’ station. Holland was sitting near one of the computer workstations, eating the pumpkin scone. She had left the scone and the coffee in the staff lounge on the table that held the coffee fixings. As it had earlier when she had seen one of the other nurses drinking the coffee Dale had brought, guilt niggled at Logan. The disappointment on Dale’s face when she wouldn’t accept her gift refused to be banished from her mind. Forget it. You’re making more of it than it was.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Looking up, she spotted Dale standing at the other end of the counter.
Dale met her eyes and smiled.
See. She’s not upset.
“Dr. Parker,” Holland called.
“What’s up?” Dale slipped behind the counter and approached the nurse.
“Labs are back on curtain four.” She held up the scone. “Want a piece? It’s really good. I can’t believe someone just left it with the community coffee stuff.”
Dale’s head turned in her direction. A look of hurt flashed across her expressive face before she could hide it. Turning away, she presented her back to Logan.
The touch of guilt Loga
n had felt became a full-fledged sting. Damn it. She hadn’t meant to hurt her; she just didn’t want to feel obligated. Let it go. She shook her head, determined to walk away, but she couldn’t do it. She waited until Dale finished checking her patient’s labs before approaching her. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”
Dale glanced up, her face a neutral mask. “Sure. About which patient?”
Moving closer, Logan lowered her voice. “It’s about earlier…the scone and coffee. I—”
“No biggie.” Dale’s polite demeanor never wavered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on my patient.” She walked away.
Logan should have been relieved, but as hard as it was to admit—she wasn’t. What she couldn’t figure out was why. She had spent the last two years keeping people at bay with the same overly polite façade that Dale had just used on her. She had never let it bother her that it might hurt someone’s feelings. Why was it different with Dale? Logan wasn’t sure she even wanted to know the answer to that question. But the facts were, she had hurt Dale and she felt bad about it. So what are you going to do about it? That was the million-dollar question.
CHAPTER 10
Logan shivered and leaned back against the wall of the building as the wind picked up, sending leaves swirling through the staff parking lot. The storm that had been brewing when she went to bed this morning had finally arrived. So far, it had been just a misting rain, but the clouds overhead looked ready to release a deluge at any moment. “So much for it never rains in Southern California,” she muttered. She hunched her shoulders inside her jacket and switched hands holding the coffee tray, shoving the now-frozen hand into her pocket.
She shouldn’t be doing this. That was what she kept telling herself, but here she was doing it anyway. The slamming of a car door made her head jerk up.
