The Doctor Takes a Detour

by Bren Christopher

  “Hey.” Josh sounded unexpectedly warm. “Good to hear from you, Ian.” Maybe he’d liked that kiss better than Ian had thought.

  Ian should have called sooner, but that was his life . . . Lots of should-haves in there. Now there was no time, and he was about to destroy any slight possibility of friendship—or something more—between them.

  “I need you, Doc.”

  “Oh yeah?” he teased.

  God, Ian liked this playful side of Josh. A shame he had to ruin it.

  “There’s a seven-year-old girl at the clinic, presenting with two previous seizures, the last one at four this afternoon. Vitals are stable now, but the parents refuse to take her into town.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Josh interrupted. The light tone had vanished.

  “Where do you live? I’ll come by. The clinic can be hard to find.”

  “Ian. Slow the fuck down.”

  “The parents might not keep her there long.” Impatience made him sharp. “I don’t have an address for them, so if she’s going to be seen by a doctor, it has to be tonight.”

  “You have a medical director. That’s what you said. This is his job, not mine.”

  “I . . .”

  “Did you lie?”

  “No.” He sucked in a breath. “But she’s on duty. Dr. Aguto is a busy lady.”

  “Oh hell no. Don’t tell me your medical director is the ER Department Head. How does she have any time for the clinic?”

  “She doesn’t.” Ian found himself shouting back. “But I needed someone to put on the paperwork. She thought it was a good cause. It’s just temporary.”

  “Send the paramedics to the clinic,” Josh snarled. “They pick up all the pieces of other people’s incompetence, right?”

  “You’re going to throw that at me now? You know I can’t call them if there’s no current emergency.”

  “You’re trying to get me fired, aren’t you?”

  “Come on, Josh. They think the priest can heal her.”

  “The . . . what now?”

  “Santeria. They’re from Cuba.”

  “They're going to sprinkle the kid with chicken blood or something?”

  “There’s a lot more to their rituals than chicken blood.”

  “No shit.” Josh’s growl of frustration practically vibrated the phone in Ian’s hand. “But so not the point.”

  “Well,” Ian said. “Let ’em do what they want. What do I know? It could help.”

  “You can't be serious.”

  “Faith is a powerful thing. I believe in hedging my bets though, which is why I want you to bring your equipment and have your pretty little ass ready to go when I get there.”

  At Josh’s gasp, he added, “Oh, and drive too. I’m on my bike.”

  “Anything else you want? My firstborn child?”

  Ian grunted. “If I thought that was ever likely to happen, I might say yes.” He heaved out a breath. “Look, you make house calls for assholes all day long. Put your fancy degree and your fancy equipment to work for someone who needs it, for God’s sake.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Neither is this girl going undiagnosed until she collapses.”

  Josh let out an impressive string of curses, but somewhere in there was his address.

  “You’re close. I’ll be there in ten.”

  His ass was so fired.

  If Langdon and Burke got wind of this illicit use of their equipment, not to mention their doctor, Josh would be out the door so fast, he’d fall over with vertigo. Maybe Ian would revive him though. Josh might not mind that, even if the man was seriously aggravating.

  He’d been mellowing out on the balcony with his favorite merlot, watching the boats far below when Ian had called. He’d felt like a small celebration. Shaw was doing well, recovering from cardiac surgery, and Mrs. Bollinger had successfully attended a short bridge club tournament.

  Regretfully, he’d barely had half of the small glass of wine. If he’d been quicker, he could have given inebriation as his excuse for sitting this one out, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie when he was fine. And he couldn’t deny how much he was anticipating seeing Ian again either.

  He still felt the imprint of Ian’s warm hand on his back, stroking, soothing him when he’d been upset about Shaw. That strong hand had seemed to pull the tension right out of him. His celebration on the balcony had been tinged with regret that he’d left things the way he had between him and Ian.

  After throwing on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve button-down, he checked his bag to be sure the most essential supplies were well stocked and then grabbed his iPad.

  At a knock on the door, he opened it and then stared.

  Ian was hot as hell in his uniform, but this Ian . . . Faded jeans, motorcycle boots, white T-shirt stretched across a solid chest and holy crap, the black leather motorcycle jacket . . . Josh swallowed.

  “Eyes are up here, man.”

  Josh blinked and jerked his head up to see Ian laughing at him. Warmth flooded his face as Ian stepped forward and rested his hands on Josh’s waist. He leaned forward to whisper, “You look good too.” Ian’s breath tickled Josh’s neck, sending a shudder down his spine.

  Ian brushed his lips under Josh’s ear and then inhaled. “Wow. Smell good too. Sexy.” His grip tightened, and then he pulled away, eliciting an embarrassing whimper from Josh.

  But Ian didn’t laugh at him this time. “I know,” he said. “But we need to go. What can I carry?”

  “Nothing.” Josh slung the bag over his shoulder and tucked his iPad inside. “I’m ready.”

  “That’s all?”

  “Most of the equipment stays in the trunk. The garage is key coded.” He locked the door behind them and then led the way down the hall. “Where did you park your bike?”

  “Visitor’s space on the street.”

  “It should be fine there. Or do you want me to follow you?”

  “I’ll leave my bike here. You can give me a ride back when we’re done. Or Lucia will.”

  “Tell me about the girl.”

  Ian filled Josh in on Tara’s background as they rode down the elevator to the parking garage level. When they were a few feet away from his car, Josh unclicked the lock of the Taurus.

  Ian stopped. “You still have the rental?”

  “I’m not much for car shopping.”

  “Huh.” Ian went quiet. Except for a few words of directions, he didn’t have much to say on the way to the clinic.

  Which was out in the middle of frickin’ nowhere, but maybe hadn’t always been. The clinic was a straight shot northeast of the city. Once they were on a narrow two-lane county road, the trees crowded in and full night fell. The road had probably been well-maintained at one time, but it was hard to tell whether the half-empty shopping center had ever been full. A few gas station convenience stores seemed to be doing enough business to stay afloat, judging by the cars pulling in and out.

  Ian directed him into the shopping center’s parking lot, warning him about the buckled pavement. With only half the parking lot lights working, the potholes weren’t easy to avoid. A few cars occupied the spaces in front of the strip mall. A white work truck with the name of a local contractor dominated the space in front of the clinic storefront, with an almost equally large van next to it. The truck dwarfed a Toyota hatchback parked on the other side, the rust spots on the small car almost undistinguishable from the faded red paint job.

  “I recognize that death trap. Your friend Gabriel right?”

  “Yes, he’s volunteering tonight. Pull up next to the blue van. That’s my sister’s.”

  “Your sister works here?”

  “Lucia is a nurse practitioner. She helps out when she can.”

  Something in his voice made Josh look over at him, but Ian hopped out of the car and took off for the door.

  Josh grabbed his bag and followed him toward pandemonium.

  “Christ.” Josh stopped abruptly in the doorway, ta
king in the voices shouting in Spanish and English mingled with the sound of a young child crying.

  Making himself move again, Josh followed Ian as he headed through the dingy reception area, down a narrow, dimly lit hall to the open door of a small exam room, made even smaller by the crowd jammed inside.

  One woman clung to the child while a big, bearded man argued with an older woman. A slight young man was trying to make peace. He stood with his hands raised and open, speaking Spanish in a low, soothing voice that seemed to have no effect on the big man.

  Standing well to the side, a dark-haired woman in a white lab coat stood clutching her phone. She was probably ready to call the police if the big man so much as made a threatening move.

  Clearly focused on their argument, no one looked up when Ian and Josh stood in the doorway, taking in the scene. The dark-haired woman noticed them first. This had to be Lucia. Ian’s sister had the same dark hair and eyes, the tall build, and a similar annoyed expression.

  “Gabriel,” Ian called and then turned to the man and the women. “I’ve brought a doctor.” He held out his hand to the man. “We haven’t met. I’m Ian Manolas.”

  But their entrance was too much for the child. Her wails escalated and then went silent as her eyes rolled back and she started shaking. The mother let out a shriek, catching the girl as she fell.

  “On the bed,” Josh snapped. “Ian, get everybody out except the mother and Lucia.”

  While Ian hustled out the protesting father and the grandmother, Gabriel spoke to the mother, urging her to the bed, where Josh took the child from her and laid her out. “Gabriel, you’d better stay too, but stand back.”

  He checked the girl’s airway and then turned her on her side.

  Lucia called out the time. “Ten seconds.”

  If this lasted more than sixty seconds, he was calling the paramedics, parents be damned. “Hold her.”

  Lucia took over, steadying the girl on the table. Josh slipped on his gloves and then dug out the diazepam. He spoke to Mrs. Fuentes while he drew a syringe. “This medication will help stop the seizure. Do I have your permission to give it to her?”

  Gabriel interpreted rapidly. Tears streamed silently down the woman’s face. A seizure was a horrifying thing to watch, especially when it was happening to your own small child. “Sí,” she whispered.

  “Fifteen seconds,” Lucia said, as she watched for any signs of respiratory compromise.

  Josh injected the diazepam and then pulled out an intubation kit, preparing in case the girl vomited or her throat muscles seized. He spoke to the mother as he worked. “What’s her name?”

  Presumably the others knew the girl’s name, but Gabriel caught on and asked the question, trying to distract the increasingly distraught woman.

  “Tara,” she said after taking a deep breath and wiping at her eyes.

  “And this is Mrs. Fuentes,” Gabriel said.

  “I’m Dr. Parker. Pleased to meet you.” The girl’s spasms lessened while her breathing steadied. “Tara will be fine.”

  Josh and Lucia eased Tara onto her back. Lucia took vitals while Josh pulled Tara’s eyelids open to examine her pupils and carried out a brief exam. Through the closed door, he heard the agitated voice of the girl’s father.

  “Gabriel,” Josh said. “You’d better tell them that all is well. They can come in, but they must be quiet. Let Tara rest.”

  Gabriel left. Seconds later, Mr. Fuentes rushed through the door toward his daughter, arms out for her. Then he stopped, his hand frozen as he touched her hair. He looked up at Josh, fear in his eyes.

  “She’s okay,” Josh said with an encouraging nod. “You can touch her.”

  Gently, Mr. Fuentes stroked his daughter’s hair and spoke to her in a low voice.

  The grandmother stood in the doorway with Ian, her face stern. She said something to Gabriel in Spanish, and Gabriel turned to Josh. “This is Mrs. Fuentes, Tara’s grandmother. She wants to know what they must do to make this stop.”

  “Let’s talk outside.” Josh glanced at Lucia. “Do you mind?”

  “I’ll stay.”

  The rest of them left the room and convened in the reception area. Josh turned to them. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Fuentes. I’m Dr. Parker. You have a lovely little girl.”

  “Gracias.” His voice shook.

  “Please sit.” Josh sat behind the desk and powered up his iPad while the others perched on the small plastic chairs. “Tell me when your daughter started having seizures.”

  With all of them adding to the story, and Gabriel translating when needed, Josh was able to gather a fairly complete history, including their address and insurance information. Mr. Fuentes answered his questions without hesitation.

  He recorded it all on a new file on his pad and then spoke to them. “I suspect your daughter has epilepsy. This is a seizure disorder that—”

  Mr. Fuentes jumped up, his hands flying in agitation as his voice rose.

  Ian tensed, but Josh gave him a subtle shake of his head, and everyone else remained seated.

  Josh waited patiently until Mr. Fuentes stopped speaking, and then said, “Please have a seat, sir. We will work together to do what is best for your daughter.” He looked the man intently in the eye. “I will not do anything without your consent.”

  Gabriel interpreted, and the man stared at Josh before taking his seat again.

  “The priest says he can cure her,” Gabriel said. “They won’t take her to the big hospital.”

  “I know.” Josh nodded. “No hospital.”

  He waited while Gabriel reassured them, then continued. “Of course, you should consult your priest if you wish. Help comes in many forms. I’m asking you to let me help and to let the priest help. It does not have to be one or the other. It should be both.”

  After another moment of Gabriel interpreting and the grandmother whispering fiercely to Mr. Fuentes, he gave a reluctant nod.

  “I’ll draw blood work here,” Josh said. “But Tara is going to need to see a specialist and get an EEG. The neuro clinic is near Bayside General, but it’s not in the building. If I make an appointment, will you go?”

  Another heated discussion followed until the grandmother spoke abruptly to her son, evidently ending the conversation.

  “They’ll go.” Gabriel turned back to Josh. “But you have to go with them.”

  “I . . . what now?”

  “You have to go.” Humor sparkled in Gabriel’s dark eyes.

  Ian had remained uncharacteristically quiet through the discussion, but now he chuckled. “You’re their doctor now.”

  Turning on Ian furiously, Josh barely stopped himself from yelling. He’d been suckered, and that was a fact. Ian would hear about this once they were alone.

  The Fuenteses were looking at him expectantly.

  “I’m going to give you enough pills for a couple of weeks, and I’ll call for an appointment. And yes.” He gave up. “I’ll go with you.”

  “I will too,” Gabriel said. “You might need me, at least this first time. There will be more tests, will there not?”

  “Yes, and I won’t always be able to go. But I’ll go to this one, if they think it will help. Let them know, will you? I won’t always be able to go.”

  Gabriel spoke to them and then turned back to Josh. “They understand.” He paused, his head tilted like a bird, thinking. “It’s the hospital they fear and the language barrier. I think they’ll be all right if we can address those two issues.”

  “Fine.” Josh tried to hide his grumpiness at this unexpected turn of events. He doled out the anti-seizure pills from his bag, cut the dose to child sized, and handed a supply to the younger Mrs. Fuentes. Through Gabriel, he explained dosage and side effects.

  When he felt they understood how to use the medication, he led the way back to the exam room and smiled as he heard the little girl giggling with Lucia.

  Mrs. Fuentes the younger swept the girl into her arms while the rest of the family gathere
d around, peppering her with kisses while she laughed.

  Ian and Gabriel saw the family to their car while Lucia and Josh straightened the exam room.

  “You got their address?” Lucia asked.

  “Yes. And their insurance info and everything else.” Josh looked around the bare-bones exam room filled with well-worn, basic equipment—so unlike the high-end exam rooms at Langdon and Burke that no one ever seemed to use.

  “Good.” Lucia cut off the light, and they headed back to the waiting room at the front.

  “You don’t think they’ll keep the appointment?”

  “I hope so. But if they don’t . . .”

  “I know. I’ll call, or ask Gabriel to do it. He’s a social worker right?”

  “For Bayside. Not for the state. But yes, he can call. Or Ian will.”

  “Ian will what?” Ian asked as he and Gabriel came back inside.

  He had quite the bounce in his step, didn’t he? Josh eyed him sourly.

  “Call social services if they don’t follow up,” Lucia said with startling harshness.

  “They will.” Ian waved a hand. “Dr. Josh here can be very convincing when he wants to be.”

  Grunting, Josh packed his iPad back into his bag.

  Ian peered over his shoulder. “How are you going to account for the meds you used?”

  Josh rounded on him. “That’s my problem, isn’t it? Sure as hell not yours, and now you’ve roped me into this mess.”

  Ian didn’t back away. “Nobody twisted your arm.”

  “Didn’t you?” Anger rose like acid in his gut. He stood toe to toe with Ian, close enough to feel the heat from his body. “What the hell was I supposed to do? I told you I didn’t want to be involved with this . . . this . . .” He looked around, his lip curling.

  “What the hell’s your problem? You did a good thing here today, and hey, it was a little girl. Not a criminal and not a drug addict.”

  “And now I’m stuck trying to wrangle them a neuro visit and freakin’ going with them.” Indignation made him shake, the anger coming to the surface and making his face burn. “How am I going to—”

  “Christ,” Ian breathed. “Your eyes . . .” He seized Josh around the waist, jerking him close as he slammed their mouths together.