by R J Nolan
When Sam nodded, Jess made her exit.
Logan met Riley’s eyes, silently asking what she was going to do.
“I’m her wife. Not her doctor.”
Logan nodded. Conscious of Riley’s gaze on her, she set to work. She gave Nancy the orders for the necessary labs, then motioned for her to go ahead with what she needed to do.
As Nancy took Sam’s vitals, hooked her to a monitor, and prepared to start an IV, Logan grabbed a clipboard with the intake sheet on it and moved to the head of the bed. “Hello. I’m Dr. Logan.” Pain-filled blue eyes met hers. “It’s Sam, right? Is that okay?”
“Yeah. That’s fine.”
“Let’s start with your medical history.” She took down Sam’s medical history and double-checked the information Jess had given her, not because she didn’t trust Jess but because it needed to be verified and documented.
“Okay, I need to do a physical exam, then I’ll get you some pain med onboard. I’m sorry, but this isn’t going to be pleasant.”
Sam clenched her teeth and nodded.
Logan did a basic exam before baring Sam’s large belly. As she examined her, she distracted her by repeating some of her earlier questions.
When Logan palpated the right upper quadrant of her belly, Sam let out a pained yelp.
Riley grabbed the bed rail and looked as if she was about to pass out.
Logan had never seen the talented trauma surgeon so much as break a sweat, no matter how intense the situation. As quickly as she could, Logan finished the exam and covered up Sam’s belly. She had felt at least one of the babies move during the exam, which was a relief. She met Sam’s gaze. “Since your OB is on the way, I’m going to forgo a pelvic exam. I know she will want to examine you herself. I don’t want you to have to go through that twice.”
“I appreciate that.” Sam glanced over her shoulder at a pale, clammy-looking Riley. “I’ve had so many women’s fingers down there lately, it felt like I was single again.”
Riley gasped, her face flushing with color. “Samantha Connolly! You are so bad.”
Sam shook her head. “It’s the pain meds.”
“You haven’t had any yet.”
“Oh yeah. Okay, it’s the pain talking.”
Riley mock-scowled at her wife. “Is this what it’s going to be like when you deliver?”
A little half smirk twisted Sam’s lips. “Maybe.”
Logan bit her lip, then, unable to hold it in, she laughed. She darted a glance at Riley.
Riley shook her head at her wife’s antics, but she looked calmer.
Ah, well done. Clearly, that had been Sam’s intent. Logan couldn’t help being impressed with her, especially considering how much pain she must be in.
Patty pushed the cart with the fetal monitor into the room. Jess was right behind her.
After sending Nancy for the pain medication she had promised, Logan chose to set up the fetal monitor herself instead of having Patty do it. It was nerve-racking to work under the eyes of Jess and Riley. Nevertheless, Logan refused to rush. It took several minutes to get the sensors correctly placed with Sam lying on her side. Monitoring two babies simultaneously was difficult. The tension in the room built with each passing moment.
When the dual graphs appeared on the display screen, showing both babies’ heart rates in the normal range, indicating that they weren’t in distress, Logan breathed a silent sigh of relief.
She turned the monitor around so that Sam and Riley could see it.
“Look, Sam. Look at our boys,” Riley said, gripping her wife’s shoulder. “They’re doing fine.”
Sam offered a tremendous smile.
The tension in the room plummeted as if a pressure valve had been released.
Nancy returned with the requested pain medication and injected it into the port of Sam’s IV.
Logan weighed her options. For a moment, she wished Dale had caught this case, then chastised herself for the thought. Normally, she would just inform the patient what test she was ordering. It always complicated things when family members of the patient were medical professionals. And in this case, that was doubly so.
She glanced at Jess and Riley across Sam’s bed, then addressed Sam. “I agree with your sister that it’s most likely acute appendicitis. I feel it’s important to get an ultrasound now to confirm that diagnosis rather than wait for your OB to arrive. You’re not having contractions, and the babies aren’t in any distress at this point. If it is appendicitis, the quicker we get you to the OR, the better it will be for you and the babies.”
“Do the ultrasound now,” Sam said before Jess or Riley could respond.
That settled it in Logan’s mind. “All right, then. One of the nurses will bring in the machine, and I’ll be back shortly.”
“Thanks,” Sam said.
Logan nodded and quickly made her exit.
When the lounge door swung open, Logan glanced up. An automatic smile formed at the sight of Dale. It was nearing the end of shift, and everything was quiet. She hoped to get out of here on time.
“Any word?” Molly asked.
Now that the staff knew the situation with Jess’s sister, they had all been anxiously awaiting word on how Sam was doing. She had gone to the OR two hours ago.
Dale shook her head. “Nothing yet.” She slipped into the seat next to Logan at the round table in the middle of the room.
Logan returned to her questioning of Molly. While she understood the resident not wanting to be actively involved in a case with a family member of their boss, it was still a good teaching opportunity. “So tell me why a pregnant woman would present with periumbilical and/or right upper quadrant pain instead of the classic right lower quadrant pain with appendicitis?”
Molly’s forehead wrinkled, and she worried her lower lip between her teeth.
“A baby sure takes up a lot of room in the abdomen, especially later in the pregnancy,” Amber said from her spot on the couch.
“No help from the peanut gallery,” Dale said.
Logan hid a smile. It wasn’t something she would have been comfortable saying to the resident, no matter how appropriate.
Molly’s face lit up. “As the uterus expands, all the organs are pushed out of position. In this case, they are pushed up, so the position of the appendix changes and rides higher in the abdomen.”
“Correct. Half a point for that one since you had help.”
The lounge door swung open again, and Jess strode into the room. She glanced around. “I didn’t know it was ladies’ night.”
“Yeah. The PMS squad is all here,” Amber said. “Just ask Fred.”
Everyone laughed. The lone male nurse on duty had been whining all night about the excess of estrogen flooding the department.
“How’s your sister doing?” Logan asked the question on all their minds. Although from how relaxed Jess looked, she figured things must have gone well.
“She’s doing great. And so are the babies. They all came through the surgery with no problems. Thank you for taking such good care of her.”
“You laid it all out for me. I just confirmed it.”
Jess moved to stand next to Logan and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad you’ve decided to stay and help us out until Gretchen comes back. You’re an asset to the department.”
Logan flushed. “Thanks.” She glanced at Dale, surprised to see her frowning. What was that about?
The arrival of the day shift staff distracted Logan.
“All right, let’s get this turnover done so these people can go home,” Jess said.
The lounge cleared quickly once the transfer of the patients was complete, and the residents headed for morning conference.
When they were the only two left at the table, Logan smiled over at Dale. “How about I pick up Drake and we go barge in on C
asey? I’ll even make breakfast.”
Dale rubbed her hands together. “Oh. You know I’d never turn down your cooking.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 33
Logan growled as a third step brought her up short again. It wasn’t possible to pace satisfactorily in the small confines of the motor home, although that hadn’t stopped her from trying.
Drake lifted his head and grumbled softly. Every return trip took her across his bed.
“I know, boy. Sorry.” She flopped down on the couch. She was having second and third thoughts about going on a date with Dale tonight. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go, she did. But her guilt was trying to get the best of her.
As it once more threatened to overwhelm her, she thought of Dale. Dale sharing the story of her injury and her own struggle with survivor guilt had really hit home. You owe it to Emily to live your life to the fullest. Dale’s words echoed in her head.
“Emily wouldn’t want me to spend my life alone, isolated from everyone.” Saying it out loud helped. Blowing out a breath, she pushed off the couch. “I can do this.”
Now all she had to do was find something to wear. A fresh wash of anxiety hit. Maybe she should have bought something new. After all, everything she had was several years old. Her clothes were serviceable, and that was all that had mattered. She frequently wore scrubs at work, so that helped prolong their life.
Drake poked her thigh, making her aware that she was pacing again.
Logan reached down and patted him. “Sorry. Okay, no need to freak out. It’s a basketball game. Probably at some rec center or something. I can just wear jeans—right?”
Drake remained mute on the subject.
“You’re not helping.”
Logan scowled and made her way into the back of the motor home. She pulled a pair of black jeans from the closet and held them up. Her thoughts went back to an incident a few weeks ago. She had been bent over rummaging in her locker and glanced over at Dale. She could have sworn that Dale was staring at her butt. At the time, she’d thought she was mistaken, but now she knew better. Heat rushed through Logan’s body at the unexpectedly vivid memory of Dale grabbing her ass and squeezing in rhythm with her thrusts against Dale’s thigh. She fanned herself. “Black jeans it is.”
The choice of the shirt was easier. She still remembered Dale’s gaze on her cleavage on New Year’s Eve. Logan grabbed the shirt she wanted and laid both items on the bed. Now thoroughly flustered with thoughts of Dale, she headed for a shower—a very cold one.
A glance at her watch made her curse. Her anxieties and trip down memory lane had taken more time than she realized. Dale was due in forty-five minutes.
The headlights of Dale’s Jeep pierced the gloom and illuminated the rain-swept street. An occasional gust of wind struck with enough force to rock the vehicle.
“Everyone keeps talking about the drought. But it doesn’t seem like much of one to me,” Logan said.
“I know what you mean.” Dale turned into the parking lot of the community center. “This is the rainiest January I’ve seen during my six years in Southern California. Two years ago, when I was still in San Diego, we barely got any rain at all that whole winter.” She glanced at the clock on the dash and cursed under her breath.
“What is it?”
“We’re running late.” She pulled into a parking space. “The storm hitting halfway here and messing up traffic played havoc with my timing.”
“Sorry. If you hadn’t had to pick me up—”
“Hey. No.” Dale turned as far as she could in her seat and put her hand on Logan’s shoulder. “I wanted to pick you up. You didn’t make it rain.” She peered out the windshield. “Looks like a slight lull. Come on, let’s get inside.”
When they reached the double glass doors to the community center, Dale pulled open one of them. A sudden gust of wind almost jerked it out of her hand, knocking her off balance.
Logan grabbed the door with one hand and Dale’s jacket with the other. Together, they stumbled inside and pulled it shut.
“So much for the lull. It’s getting nasty out there.” Dale stopped just inside the door, pulled off her jacket, and shuffled her feet on the thick rubber-backed mat. Logan followed suit.
Now that they were actually here, Dale’s earlier nervousness reasserted itself. Her grip tightened on the duffle bag holding her toiletries and clothes for later. She glanced over at Logan.
Stress lines framed her eyes. Clearly, Dale wasn’t the only one who was nervous.
“We should go in,” Dale said. As they walked down the hall, Dale tried to ease Logan’s concerns. She realized this had to be a challenge for her too after having spent the last two years cut off from social interactions for the most part. “There won’t be a big crowd. This is a community outreach program for vets. Not a formal league or anything like that. So it will be mostly family and friends of the players from the VA and a few players from a local wheelchair basketball league. And with this weather, the crowd will probably be smaller than usual.”
Logan nodded as they stepped into the gym.
The sound of thudding footsteps drew Dale’s attention. Dana was barreling down on them like a freight train at full throttle. Damn it. The volatile woman was definitely not the first person Dale wanted Logan to meet this afternoon. No help for it now.
“Where the fuck have you been?” She got right in Dale’s face. “You’re late!”
When Logan stiffened beside her, Dale clasped her hand and gave it a quick squeeze, hoping she got the message. She didn’t take her gaze off Dana. “I’m not late. I’m on time. It’s just now five o’clock.” She calmly pointed at the clock on the far wall until Dana turned and looked that way.
She whipped back around. “You should’a been here sooner. We need to—”
“Dana. We’ll do whatever we need to, but only if you’re calm. You know the rules. Now back up and take a couple of deep breaths.”
Dale waited until Dana did as instructed. Only then did she put a hand on Dana’s shoulder. “Good. Please bring a chair for me over to the end of the bleachers.”
“Okay. Sorry,” Dana muttered. She glanced at Logan and scowled as if just noticing her for the first time. “Who are you?” Her eyes narrowed.
Shit. Dale had never brought anyone to a game and had forgotten how suspicious Dana was of strangers. “This is my friend, Logan. I invited her to the game.” She kept her voice even. “Logan, this is Dana. She’s one of my teammates.”
Logan stood her ground and met Dana’s hostile gaze with calm certainty. “Hello. Nice to meet you.”
Dana glanced at Dale before nodding sharply to Logan. She spun on her heel and marched away.
“I’m really sorry about that,” Dale said as soon as Dana was out of earshot. By now, Logan probably regretted coming to the game. “She’s had a tough time—”
“You don’t need to apologize or explain.” Logan pressed her hand. “I know that not everyone’s wounds are physical. I have nothing but compassion for Dana.”
Logan’s understanding and empathy touched Dale’s heart. “Thanks.” She hefted her duffle bag. “I should get over there.”
“Lead the way.”
As they made their way across the gym, a number of people called out to Dale. She waved but kept moving.
Dana had left the specialized wheelchair next to the end of the bleachers, just as she had requested. Dale put her duffle on the floor.
“Have a seat.” She motioned Logan toward the stands. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her sweatpants down before joining Logan on the bench so she could work them off over her shoes. Her prosthetic exposed, she glanced at Logan, to find her staring at her legs. She barely resisted the urge to drape her pants over her damaged leg.
Logan chose that moment to look up. Her gaze met Dale’s, and she blushe
d.
What the heck?
“Dale! Move your ass,” Rob, a fellow player, yelled from farther up the bench.
Dale leaned past Logan and glared. “Chill out. I’ll be right there.”
Now came the hard part. She couldn’t play while wearing her prosthetic. It was one of the rules, as another player could get injured or the prosthesis could get damaged. And it put everyone on a level playing field, with no artificial help. She’s seen you without the leg, she reminded herself. After pressing the button to release the prosthetic, Dale started to pull it off, then hesitated and glanced up at Logan.
Their gazes met.
Logan’s expression dimmed. She turned on the bench until her back was to Dale.
The understanding gesture on Logan’s part only served to make Dale feel as if she had failed Logan and herself. Damn it. She jerked the prosthetic off. The liner had to go as well, as the locking pin that protruded from the base of the liner could easily injure another player. She rolled it down and off, exposing her residual limb. Unable to help herself, she darted a glance at Logan.
Her back was still turned.
Dale grabbed a compression sock and quickly covered her stump, then shoved both the prosthetic and liner into the duffle bag and sealed it shut. After getting herself strapped into the wheelchair, she put the duffle on her lap and rolled over to Logan. “Would you hang on to this for me, please?”
“Sure.” Logan took the bag and set it next to her on the bench.
“Come on, Dale. You’re holding up the game,” Dana hollered.
Dale scowled. “Sorry. I need to go.” She had planned to introduce Logan to some of the other players’ families so she would have someone to keep her company during the game. Getting delayed in traffic had really screwed things up. “Why don’t you move over there so you’re close to the action?” Dale gestured toward the spectators sitting ten feet away. She berated herself for not sitting down closer to everyone to start with. She still struggled with the ingrained habit of retreating away from the crowd to remove her prosthetic.
