Читать книгу Pregnant Nurse, New-Found Family - Lynne Marshall - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

GAVIN punched in the code on the number pad of the emergency room door—it swung open to harsh fluorescent lights and a barrage of noise. Ah, home, sweet home.

“I need an ammonia ampoule,” he said, acting like carrying a woman over his shoulder was the most natural thing in the world. Patrick followed, pushing the empty wheelchair.

When Bethany had started to fall, he’d lunged across the elevator, catching her just above the knees, and hoisted her over his shoulder.

With her usual ER charm, Carmen nailed him over her half-rimmed glasses. “Where have you been, and who is she?” After twenty years in the ER, nothing fazed her.

“This my allergy nurse.” He made a circle, looking for a vacant exam room.

“Room three is open. Hi, Patrick, darlin’.” Her icy glare cracked into a smile just for him. “You can leave the wheelchair right there.”

Gavin headed across the ward with Patrick behind him, gently laid Bethany on the gurney in the vacant room, then adjusted the head of the bed so that her head was below her heart.

Carmen appeared at the doorway, arms folded, a curious look on her face. She handed him the smelling salts. He’d thought he’d save her the question.

“She passed out in the elevator when I mentioned the boy’s hand almost being ripped off by a dog.” Realizing his son had heard every word, he gave him a steady look and said, “I’ll make sure the boy is fine. These days surgeons can reattach just about everything.” Patrick nodded thoughtfully. Glancing back at Carmen, who was waiting for more explanation, Gavin said, “I caught her before she hit the floor.” He popped open and waved the smelling salts under Beth’s nose. A reflex made her shake her head side to side. “Keep an eye on her for me while I take a look at the boy, will you?”

“Sure. We’ve only got patients crawling out of the rafters and as usual I’m short-staffed, but I’ll take care of her.” Carmen approached the bedside and applied the blood-pressure cuff to Beth’s arm. “Is this some new dating strategy?”

Patrick laughed as if he understood what she was talking about. Carmen’s mock vitriol for Gavin disappeared when she smiled at the boy.

Choosing to ignore her smart-aleck question, Gavin said, “Patrick, you stay with Carmen and Bethany.”

“The boy’s in room six, we’ve got a GI bleed in room three, and there’s a possible kidney stone in eight.” Carmen’s expression changed from all business to concern when she had time to study him more closely. “What the heck happened to you?”

“She tried to kill me.” He nodded toward Beth before heading toward room six. Halfway there, he glanced over his shoulder. “Order an IVP for room eight, draw a stat CBC, ’lytes, PT and PTT for three.”

“Already have, but thanks for making it official,” Carmen spouted off confidently, making note of her newest patient’s BP. “Hey, Gav, what about something for pain for the possible kidney stone?” she called over her shoulder.

He slowed his pace. “Any drug allergies?”

“None.”

“Demerol 75 milligrams IM.” A deep appreciation for his skilled and competent nurse made him smile. He’d left Beth in good hands. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn,” she said on a sigh as she headed for the tiny medicine alcove.

Beth lay perfectly still, woozy yet distracted by the noise and chaos. She opened her eyes and saw Patrick’s inquisitive gaze watching her as if she’d died and come back to life. He’d been raising and lowering the height of the bed by pushing the buttons on the side rails. For a while she’d dreamed she was on a Caribbean cruise, rocking and rolling at sea.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi.” He quickly moved his hand. “Dad said you fainted.”

“How long was I out?”

“Not very long.”

She sat up, fighting an uphill battle with the gurney. “Can you push that and fix this?”

The boy eagerly complied, already a pro at the bedside controls. The blood-pressure cuff automatically pumped up again. Her BP was normal. She sat up, feeling fine now. She knew she shouldn’t have skipped lunch, but she’d still felt queasy and the thought of food had made her sick. And when dinner had been postponed, well, it must have caught up with her.

She glanced across the cavernous ER to another room. Behind the glass wall, Gavin was conversing with a doctor and a man and woman. A small boy lay behind him on the gurney. Her gaze came to rest on a teenage girl standing just outside the door. The girl chewed on her index finger and rubbed at red, swollen eyes; fear and concern furrowed her brow as she peered inside.

The timer on Beth’s wristwatch went off. She’d set it just before they’d left the allergy department. “Oh, Patrick, it’s time to check your back.” She fished around in her pocket for her calibrator to measure any redness or induration from the tests. “Take off your shirt.” She found her pen and a piece of scrap paper in her lab coat and, when Patrick backed up so she could see, began assessing the few small welts on his back. “Most everything is normal. You’ve got a mild reaction to grass and a couple of the trees. Oh, cat fur is borderline.”

“What does borderline mean?”

“It means you’re probably OK. Do you have a cat?”

“No. But I used to.” He got suddenly quiet.

“Well, other than the grass and trees, you’re OK. Can you get me a glass of water?”

He put his jersey back on and used the bedside sink to fill a small cup normally meant for pills. She smiled and took it gratefully, threw the contents back in one gulp and asked for another. “Do you have any candy on you? I’m starving.”

He shook his head but just as quickly his eyes brightened. “I know where the snack machines are.” Spoken like a kid who’d spent more than his share of hours hanging around the hospital because his dad was head of the ER.

Carmen appeared at the door with a lab tray.

“Oh, I’m fine now. I just need to get something to eat.”

“You know the drill,” Carmen said, setting her tray at the bedside and applying a tourniquet to Beth’s arm. “You show up in the ER and we’ve got to do blood tests. I had Rick, the supervising PA, order them.”

Knowing there was no getting around hospital protocol, Beth lay back and let Carmen do her job.

“Do I have to watch?” Patrick asked, his fine brows pinched together.

“If I give you a dollar, will you buy me a chocolate bar?” With her free hand Beth found a dollar and some change in the other pocket and gave him a handful. “Get yourself something, too.”

He shot out of the room as though on a world-saving mission before Carmen had a chance to expose a needle.

“So what did you do to Gavin? He looks like Lobster Man.”

“I know! And because he’s running around here, I can’t read his skin tests to find out what he’s allergic to.” She sighed. “What am I being tested for?”

Carmen was so skilled at drawing blood that Beth barely felt the needle pierce her skin. “The usual lab tests. Blood sugar. Electrolytes. When was your last period?”

Beth scratched her head and thought about it. Wait a second. Normally, she’d be having her period around this time, or maybe it was supposed to be last week?

Hesitating, she gave the information to her nurse.

Subtly lifting a brow, Carmen said, “Maybe I’ll throw in a pregnancy test.” She gathered her vials and left the room without giving Beth a hint about whether or not she knew what had gone on between her and Gavin a few weeks ago. Beth recognized her distinctive voice. But did Carmen know who Beth was?

The ripple effect of her poor judgement caused a second wave of lightheadedness, and forced Beth to lean back on the bed. Nah. No way. They’d used protection.

“Who’ll get the results?” she called out, without thinking things through.

“Rick will call you if anything’s abnormal.”

She’d been in this situation before, twice. Hell, that was the reason she’d gotten married, and her husband hadn’t been in the least bit happy about it. She hadn’t done it to trap him. It had just sort of happened. Back when she’d married Neal, she’d wanted nothing more than to have a family, but after they’d married, she’d miscarried within the first trimester. A year later, it had happened again; it wasn’t meant to be. Then he’d run off with that woman after maxing out Beth’s credit cards. Just thinking about her ex and the bosomy blonde he’d left her for sent her blood pressure into the stratosphere.

Oh, God, what if she was pregnant? She’d promised herself to only marry for love in the future, no matter what. Gavin was a total stranger.

To distract herself, Beth watched the girl standing outside the boy’s room across the ward. She’d been working at the teen clinic a couple nights a week for the last year and, with her own memories of teenage angst, she felt she’d finally cracked the code of what made them tick. Drawn by the girl’s silent scream and avoiding her own over a possible pregnancy, she decided to check things out.

“Hi,” Beth said, when she approached.

“I belong here. That’s my brother,” the girl answered, with both shoulders raised as if ready for a fight.

“You look pretty worried.” Beth edged closer.

“Well, wouldn’t you be?” she barked, and bit at the hangnail on her finger, avoiding Beth’s eyes.

“Oh, gosh, yes. But he’s in good hands now.” She was careful not to invade the teenager’s space and remained a couple of feet away while the girl leaned against the wall. “Mind if I keep you company?” Before the girl could answer, she went on, “What’s his name?”

“Andrew.” The petite girl shrugged.

“Well, Andrew will get the best of care. The surgeons will do everything they can to save his hand.”

“It’s my fault he’s here.” Frightened eyes peered above her knuckles, tears slipped over the red rims of her eyes and down her pale cheeks. Her composure completely gone, the girl’s shoulders jerked up and down with a new onslaught of sobs.

Beth reached out and wrapped the twig-thin teen under her arm. “It’s not your fault, you know.” She guided the girl toward a bench along the wall, away from her brother’s room. “You didn’t bite him.”

“I left him alone when I answered my cellphone.” Guilt wrenched through a squeaky, gasping voice.

Beth took a deep breath, unsure what tack to take. “Was he a vicious dog?”

“No!” the girl snapped, then backed off a bit. “That’s the thing—he’s been our family pet for ever.”

“So how were you supposed to know…? What’s your dog’s name?”

“Max.”

“How were you supposed to know Max would attack Andrew?” Beth gently prodded the girl to sit down and joined her.

She sobbed into her hands. “Now we’ve got to put Max down and my brother’s lost his hand, all because of my stupid cellphone.”

Beth placed her arm gently across the girl’s back. “Sometimes life just happens and we don’t have any control over it.” Beth sat in silence, giving the girl time to think while turning over and over her own thoughts about a possible pregnancy. “The doctors may be able to save your brother’s hand. Just have some faith. My name’s Beth—what’s yours?”

“Courtney.” She wiped her eyes and glanced at Beth.

“Courtney, it’s not your fault—have you got that?” Beth squeezed her bony shoulder. “Maybe Max was in pain or he was frightened or he’s started to get senile. Maybe a bee stung him. There could be several reasons why he’d attack your brother.”

The girl whimpered and nodded.

Gavin watched with an ache in his heart as the orderly wheeled the sedated child toward the door on his way to the operating room. Finally, the traumatized boy was calm and on his way to surgery.

Thick black lashes rested on the child’s blanched cheeks, reminding him of his own son. If the doctors did their jobs properly, Andrew would have no memory of what was to come, and his hand would be useful again. Gavin made a mental note to follow up on the boy’s progress later.

His gaze went to a scrawny teenager outside the room, wrapped in the comforting arm of his newest favorite nurse, Bethany Caldwell. She must be feeling better. Patrick was sitting beside her and they were all sharing a couple of candy bars.

Gavin liked seeing her in his department; he liked that she’d taken the initiative to support the forgotten family member. His own nurses rarely had time for such things. And she hadn’t stuck Carmen with watching his son, as he often was forced to do.

His son suddenly being left with him by his ex had clearly turned into a gift—the gift of a second chance. He smiled, thankful for odd favors.

“Hi, Dad!” Patrick waved from across the room, content to hang around until he could go home. His heart squeezed. What a trouper. The way things were going, he’d be stuck here several more hours, which wouldn’t be fair. As Carmen got off at seven, once again he’d have to ask her to watch Patrick. Theirs wasn’t a perfect situation, but they’d been working things out just fine and, more importantly, Patrick seemed to like living with him.

Gavin smiled and waved back, thankful for Carmen for the tenth time that day. If she had a clue he actually appreciated her, she’d never let him live it down.

He nodded at Bethany as he headed to room three, thinking how pretty she was, while he maintained his professional physician demeanor. After he’d passed, he smiled and recalled what they’d done together that first night. And even though the focus of his life had changed since Patrick had moved in, he couldn’t help but wonder if and how soon they could arrange to do it again. What would she think if she could read his mind?

Even an hour after the testing, a lingering itch drew his attention to his back. The meds had taken care of the worst of it, but a few areas still bothered him. He reached behind and, using his thumb, scratched the spot.

After examining the gastrointestinal bleeder and ordering a stat colonoscopy, opportunity knocked when the ER charge nurse walked by. But Bethany was nowhere in sight.

“Carmen? Can Patrick go home with you tonight? Looks like I’m needed around here.”

“I told you, any time. Patrick and I are good buddies.”

Maybe Patrick and Carmen were great friends, but it was obvious he missed his mother and was devastated by her sudden trip to England. And the big question was—could a man who’d been married to his job for the last three years be able to fill the gap?

He’d let both the boy and Maureen down during the marriage. Intent on establishing himself as a doctor, he’d left the majority of child-rearing on his wife’s shoulders, though he had managed to have quality time with the boy whenever he’d been able to. She’d wanted to give up her career and be a stay-at-home mother, and he’d done his best to provide for them while still overwhelmed with medical school debts. He’d worked like a lunatic. And after the divorce Maureen had still wanted to stay at home…on Gavin’s child support and alimony. He’d been accused of being a workaholic by more than a few people in his life, but he’d always felt it had been for a good cause.

For Patrick’s sake, Gavin had promised to do everything in his power to make things right this time around, which meant thinking of his son first and, as tempting as she was, putting Bethany Caldwell completely out of his mind. Like that was going to happen.

Once things had settled down in the ER, and Beth had been officially discharged, she retreated from the pandemonium into the quiet hallway. She was tired. And hungry.

She went back to the allergy department to gather her belongings and head out to her car.

Dr Mehta would have to order a special RAST—radioallergosorbent—blood test for Gavin as she hadn’t been able to finish reading the skin tests. And with his extreme reaction, it was important for him to know exactly what he was allergic to and what to avoid.

At least she now knew her mystery man’s name and where he worked. Gavin had stirred feelings she’d never felt before, and if she was honest, she wanted to find out what else might happen with a man like him. Was that playing with fire? Yes. Was it dangerous? For her, yes. Would she actually allow herself to find out? Absolutely not. Until she knew the results of the pregnancy test, she’d do everything in her power to avoid him.

Beth started her car. The men in her life, starting with her dad and ending with her ex-husband, had track records for being unreliable and undependable.

According to her best friend Jillian, who worked in the urgent care department, Gavin had more women throwing themselves at him than he could handle.

Of all the people to have had secret sex with.

Beth adjusted the rear-view mirror and shifted into reverse. Jillian always shared the scuttlebutt from ER and Dr Gavin Riordan could have any woman he wanted. So why would he be satisfied with just one? And in the world according to Beth, from now on she would settle for nothing less than being the only one.

She pulled the car out into the traffic and started her drive home, thinking about her failed marriage. Again. She’d always dreamed of having a big family. Her ex had never wanted kids, but hadn’t mentioned it until after they’d had to get married. While her heart had broken more with each miscarriage, he’d seemed relieved. And she’d foolishly assumed her ex would be faithful. Wrong! She hadn’t been able to trust him.

The fact that he’d been unable to satisfy her in bed over their two-year marriage might have had something to do with it. But Beth had never been good at faking anything, and she hadn’t hidden that one important fact from him. Evidently his ego had only waited so long before he’d gone searching for a more responsive partner.

So long and good riddance.

If she was frigid, what could she call what had happened with Gavin that night? He’d taken her on a rocket trip to bliss in record time.

And now her period was late.

Was that her reward for finally cutting loose?

Damn.

If she did wind up being pregnant and she didn’t miscarry, she’d keep the baby and figure out what to do about Gavin later.

The moment Beth opened the doors to the allergy department on Wednesday morning the phone rang. She swooped up the receiver, assuming it was the supervisor from the ER to tell her her fate.

“Allergy, this is Beth.”

“You owe me dinner.”

She heard Gavin’s deep voice, loud and clear. Her heart rushed a beat or two.

“Are you there?” he asked when she paused.

“May I ask who’s calling?” Lame!

After a brief hesitation he said, “It’s Stud Muffin.”

Her cheeks flamed faster than a brush fire. Obviously his son being present had kept him from saying what had been on his mind yesterday.

She stifled a giggle.

“I’ll pick you up in front of the hospital on Friday night at seven…Sweet Cakes,” he said.

How could she not smile? The guy was being silly and going overboard, trying to get her to laugh.

She played with a pen she’d picked up from the counter. Two could play this game. “I’m afraid ‘Sweet Cakes’ isn’t available on Friday night. She works at the teen clinic in Venice.” The pen shook in her hand.

“How late?”

She clicked the pen several times and heard an impatient sigh on the other end. She’d taken it too far. It also occurred to her that the poor man might have been up all night working—if the overflowing ER when she’d left last night had been any indication. Did he deserve her giving him a hard time? “I work until ten. You might be awfully hungry by then. I suggest we take a rain-check.”

“Then let’s have a drink and get to know each other. You can buy me dinner another night. I know where that clinic is—I’ll pick you up from there on Friday.”

She faltered. Had he just finagled two dates out of her? What about her plan to avoid him?

He sighed again. “Just say yes, Bethany. I need to get some sleep.”

“Yes, Bethany, I need to get some sleep,” she parroted softly, her mind swirling with what-ifs.

“Have a good day…Sweet Cakes.” She heard a smile in his voice.

Would it be a good day after the lab called?

“Wait!” she said.

“Yes?”

“How’s that boy, Andrew?”

Gavin cleared his throat. “The surgery went well. We’ll have to wait and see if the hand will be functional. By the way, what you did with his sister was commendable. And my son. Thanks for that. I’ll see you Friday.”

She’d agreed to get-to-know-each-other drinks with a man she’d already had sex with. Well, what would “Stud Muffin” think about her predicament? He might change his dating tune if a certain lab test came back you-know-what. And more importantly, if she was pregnant, would she have the guts to tell him?

No sooner had she hung up than the phone rang again. On automatic reflex she gave the department name, followed by her own.

“This is Rick from the ER. I’m not sure if this is good news or not…but it’s definitely news.”

For the second time in two days Beth felt faint. “I’m pregnant?”

“Most definitely.”

She couldn’t remember afterwards if she’d said thank you and goodbye or had just hung up, but suddenly she was standing in the allergy clinic with her arms tightly folded across her stomach to keep from falling apart. Her eyes stung. Nervous tingles made her skin prickle. Tears brimmed. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Maybe this third time the pregnancy would stick. Could she afford to be hopeful, again? Or should she be horrified? I’m not married and I got knocked up on a one-night stand with a stranger.

She’d always wanted children, but only under the right circumstances, in a loving relationship and preferably married. Talk about bad timing. Hell, she’d worked at the teen clinic long enough to know life threw everyone curve balls, but in this case she’d been the accomplice who’d helped the pitcher wind up and let fly.

And now, oh, God, she was pregnant.

On Thursday afternoon Gavin pushed through the swing doors into the allergy waiting room. At the nursing podium, Beth was in the middle of giving shots to one of her regular weekly patients. She’d just finished drawing up antigen from a vial when she spotted him.

Thanks to morning sickness, which seemed to be lasting all day, she didn’t need any help with the sudden urge to vomit. Seeing him made her lose control and she dropped the vial. Damn. What could she do but try her best to act naturally? She felt out of control, as though someone had taken a hand mixer to her stomach.

She was pregnant and he was the father and somehow, some way, she’d have to tell him. But not now!

He nodded at her. “I need to set up an appointment for Patrick for asthma training.”

“Sure.” She managed to find her voice, nodding to the patient waiting for a shot and trying her hardest not to let the trembling of her hands show.

Navy blue slacks, pale blue shirt, colorful yellow tie, obviously just out of the shower with his hair still damp…he dripped confidence. And his woodsy scent had her thinking about being skin to skin with him and places she’d never been before. And though the smell soothed her queasy stomach, the memories whipped it right back up again.

Her patient cleared her throat. Right. The shot.

“I’ve been summoned,” he said, pointing down the hall and continuing on toward Dr Mehta’s office.

A few minutes later, just when Beth had calmed herself down, Gavin’s voice startled her when he snuck up from behind.

He tossed some paperwork onto the podium. “I’m signing up for immunotherapy. Bupinder talked me into it.”

Avoiding his eyes, she pretended to be engrossed with the doctor’s orders. “Is that so?”

He leaned his forearm on the stand. “Guess I’ll be one of your patients.”

How could she face him every week of her pregnancy—that was, if she didn’t miscarry this time? “I never read your test—how does she know what you’re allergic to?”

“RAST test.” A blood test where, if there was an allergy, the specific antibodies attached to a radioactive chemical. “You’re right, I should be a bubble boy, but that’s just me. I don’t do anything halfway.”

Recalling their crazy first encounter, she fought a blush. No. He definitely didn’t do anything halfway.

She glanced up and saw a knowing smile, then quickly concentrated on her folded hands on the podium. She couldn’t fall any deeper for his charm, not until he knew the facts and she knew where they stood.

“Be sure to pick up an EpiPen from the pharmacy and carry it with you at all times. We can’t treat you for food allergies, just the pollens, so you’ve got to be prepared for another systemic reaction if it ever occurs.”

She worked up the courage to make eye contact again. The tantalizing taupe stare forced a burst of nerves in her chest, and she caught her breath. She couldn’t go on like this, and changed the subject. “When is a good time for the asthma training for Patrick?”

He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Any evening. You can come over to my place.”

“Sorry, I don’t do house calls.”

“Not even for me?”

She sent him a pleading, exasperated glance—there were patients within earshot. He got the message. “What if I bring him in one afternoon next week?”

“Sure. Just bring him to the clinic. I’ll make time for him.” Putty in his hands.

“Sounds good. So is that all you need to talk to me about?”

Beth shot him a startled look. Why had he asked that? Did he know? Her mouth went dry. “After a systemic reaction like you had, we insist that you wait two weeks before starting the immunotherapy program. And don’t forget to pick up your EpiPen.”

“Sure thing.” He slanted her a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

He pushed himself off from the podium and strode toward the lobby, pushed through the swinging doors like a cowboy in a saloon, and left. She shamelessly checked out his behind. What got into her whenever he was around?

Dread trickled down her spine and quickly replaced the attraction to him. She’d have to tell Gavin sooner or later, and as they had a date tomorrow night, “sooner” seemed to be the best option.

But sooner stunk.