Читать книгу It Started At Christmas... - Janice Lynn, Janice Lynn - Страница 11
ОглавлениеLANCE DROVE TO the hospital in silence. Just as well. McKenzie didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk.
Was she thinking about what he’d said? Or the events of the evening? Of the risks she’d taken?
When he’d realized Leo Jones had been choking, he’d rushed to the man and performed the Heimlich maneuver. Too bad he hadn’t been successful. Then McKenzie wouldn’t have any worries about blood exposure.
Why hadn’t he insisted on performing the procedure to open Leo’s airway? He should have. He’d offered, but precious time had been wasting that could have meant the difference between life and death, between permanent brain damage and no complications.
He’d let her do what she’d competently done with quick and efficient movements. She’d saved the man’s life. But Lance would much rather it was him being the one worrying about what he’d been exposed to.
Why? Was she right? Was it because she was female and he was male and that automatically made him feel protective?
Most likely he’d feel he should have been the one to take the risks regardless of whether McKenzie had been male or female. But the fact she was female did raise the guilt factor, with the past coming back to haunt him that he’d failed to protect another woman once upon a time when he should have.
Plus, he’d been the one to invite McKenzie to the show. If he hadn’t done so she wouldn’t have been at the community center, wouldn’t have been there to perform the cricothyroidotomy, wouldn’t have possibly been exposed to something life threatening.
Because of him, she’d taken risks she shouldn’t have had to take. Guilt gutted him.
If he could go back in time, he’d undo that particular invitation. If he could go back in time, he’d undo a lot of things.
Truthfully, he hadn’t expected McKenzie to accept his invitation to watch his show. She’d shot down all his previous ones with polite but absolute refusals.
He glanced at where she stared out the window from the passenger seat. Why had she semiaccepted tonight?
Perhaps the thought of seeing him onstage had been irresistible. He doubted it. She’d only agreed to go and watch and so had technically not been there as his date.
Regardless, he’d been ecstatic she’d said she’d be there. Why it mattered so much, he wasn’t sure. Just that knowing McKenzie had been attending the show had really upped the ante.
Not knowing if she’d let him or not, he reached out, took her hand, and gave a squeeze meant to reassure.
She didn’t pull away, just glanced toward him in question.
“It’s going to be okay.” He hoped he told the truth.
“I know. It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
She shook her head.
“Seriously, you can tell me. I’ll understand. I’ve had blood exposure before. I know it’s scary stuff until you’re given the all-clear.”
She didn’t look at him, just stared back out the window. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
She glanced toward him again. “With you?”
He made a pretense of looking around the car. “It would seem I’m your only option at the moment.”
“I’d rather not talk at all.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry.” She gave a nervous sigh. “I’m not trying to be rude. I just...”
“You just...?” he prompted at her pause.
“Don’t like needles.” Her words were so low, so torn from her that he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.
Her answer struck him as a little odd considering she was a highly skilled physician who’d just expertly performed a procedure to open a choking man’s airway.
When he didn’t immediately respond, she jerked her hand free from his, almost as if she’d been unaware until that moment that he even held her hand.
“Don’t judge me.”
How upset she was seemed out of character with everything he knew about her. She was always calm, cool, collected. Even in the face of an emergency she didn’t lose her cool. Yet she wasn’t calm, cool or collected at the moment. “Who’s judging? I didn’t say a word.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Maybe I’m not the one judging?”
She didn’t answer.
“If you took my moment of silence in the wrong way, I’m sorry. I was just processing that you didn’t like needles and that it seemed a little odd considering your profession.”
“I know.”
“Yet you’re ultrasensitive about it.”
“It’s not something I’m proud of.”
Ah, he was starting to catch on. McKenzie didn’t like to have a weakness, to be vulnerable in regard to anything. That he understood all too well and had erected some major protective barriers years ago to keep himself sane. Then again, he deserved every moment of guilt he experienced and then some.
“Lots of people have a fear of needles,” he assured her. They saw it almost daily at the clinic.
“I passed out the last time I had blood drawn.” Her voice was condemning of herself.
“Happens to lots of folks.”
“I had to take an antianxiety medication to calm a panic attack before I could even make myself sit in the phlebotomist’s chair and then I still passed out.”
“Not unheard of.”
“But not good for a doctor to be that way when she goes around ordering labs for her patients. What kind of example do I set?”
“People have different phobias, McKenzie. You can’t help what you’re afraid of. It’s not like we get to pick and choose.”
She seemed to consider what he’d said.
“What are your phobias, Lance?”
Her question caught him off guard. He wasn’t sure he had any true phobias. Sure, there were things that scared him, but none that put him into shutdown mode.
Other than memories of Shelby and his immense sense of failure where she was concerned.
Could grief and regret be classified as a phobia? Could guilt?
“Death,” he answered, although it wasn’t exactly the full truth.
She turned to face him. “Death?”
His issues came more from having been left behind when someone he’d loved had died.
When his high school sweetheart had died.
When it should have been him and not her who’d lost their life that horrific night.
When he didn’t answer, she turned in her seat. “You are, aren’t you? You’re afraid of dying.”
Better she think that than to know the horrible truth. He shrugged. “Aren’t most people, to some degree? Regardless, it isn’t anything that keeps me awake at night.”
Not every night as it had those first few months, at any rate. He’d had to come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t change what had happened, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how many times people told him it wasn’t his fault. Now he lived his life to help others, as Shelby would have had she lived, and prevent others from making the same mistakes two teenagers had on graduation night.
“The thought of needles doesn’t keep me awake at night,” McKenzie said, drawing him back to the present. “Just freaks me out at the thought of a needle plunging beneath my skin.”
Again, her response seemed so incongruent with her day-to-day life. She was a great physician, performed lots of in-office procedures that required breaking through the skin.
“Is there something in your past that prompted your fear?” he asked, to keep his thoughts away from his own issues. Shelby haunted him enough already.
From the corner of his eye as he pulled into the hospital physician parking area he saw her shake her head.
“Not that I recall. I’ve just always been afraid of needles.”
Her voice quivered a little and he wondered if she told the full truth.
“Medical school didn’t get you over that fear?”
“Needles only bother me when they are pointed in my direction.”
“You can dish them out but not take them, eh?”
“I get my influenza vaccination annually and I’m up to date on all my other immunizations, thank you very much.”
He laughed at her defensive tone. “I was only teasing you, McKenzie.”
“If you knew how stressful getting my annual influenza vaccination is for me, you wouldn’t tease me.” She sighed. “This is the one thing I don’t take a joke about so well.”
“Only this?” he asked as he parked the car and turned off the ignition.
Picking up her strappy purse, she shrugged. “I’m not telling you any more of my secrets, Lance.”
“Afraid to let me know your weaknesses?” he taunted.
“What weaknesses?” she countered, causing him to chuckle.
That was one of the things that attracted him to McKenzie. She made him laugh and smile.
They got out of the car and headed into the hospital.
The closer they got to the emergency department, the more her steps slowed. So much so that currently she appeared to be walking through molasses.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” Her answer was more gulped than spoken.
Stupid question on his part. He could tell she wasn’t. Her face was pale and she looked like she might be ill. She’d made light of her phobia, but it was all too real.
Protectiveness washed over him and he wanted to scoop her up and carry her the rest of the way.
“I’ll stay with you while you have your labs drawn.”
Not meeting his eyes, she shook her head. “I don’t want you to see me like that.”
“You think I’m going to think less of you because you’re afraid of needles?”
“I fully expect you to tease me mercilessly now that you know this.”
Her voice almost broke and he fought his growing urge to wrap her up into his arms. If only he could.
“You’re wrong, McKenzie. I don’t want to make light of anything that truly bothers you. I want to make it all better, to make this as easy for you as possible. Let me.”
“Fine.” She gave in but didn’t sound happy about it. “Write an order for blood exposure labs. Get the emergency room physician to get consent, then draw blood on our dear mayor. Let’s hope he’s free from all blood-borne pathogens.”
He definitely hoped that. If McKenzie came to any harm due to having done the cricothyroidotomy he’d never forgive himself for not insisting on doing the procedure, for putting her in harm’s way. He’d not protected one woman too many already in his lifetime.
* * *
McKenzie counted to ten. Then she counted backward. Next she counted in her very limited Spanish retained from two years of required high school classes. She closed her eyes and thought of happy thoughts. She told her shoulders to relax, her heart not to burst free from her chest, her breath not to come in rapid pants, her blood not to jump around all quivery-like in her vessels.
None of her distraction techniques worked.
Her shoulders and neck had tight knots. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it truly might break free from her rib cage. Her breathing was labored. Her blood jumped and quivered.
Any moment she half expected her feet to take on minds of their own and to run from the lab where she waited for the phlebotomist to draw her blood.
Lance sat with her, telling her about Mr. Jones and that the surgeon was currently with him. “Looks like they’re taking him into surgery tonight to remove the stuck food and close the airway opening you made.”
Only half processing what he said, she nodded. She tried to focus on his words, but her skin felt as if it was on fire and her ears had to strain beyond the burn.
“The surgeon praised the opening you made. He said it would be a cinch to close and would only leave a tiny scar.”
Again, she nodded.
“He also said you’d nicked two main arteries and the guy was going to have to be seen by a vascular surgeon. Shame on you.”
As what he said registered, her gaze cut to Lance’s. “What? I didn’t nick a main artery, much less two. What are you talking about?”
The corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Sorry. I could tell your mind was elsewhere. I was just trying to get your attention back onto me.”
“I didn’t hit two arteries,” she denied again.
“No, you didn’t. The surgeon really did praise you, but didn’t say a thing about any nicked arteries.”
“You’re bad,” she accused.
Not bothering to deny her claim, he just grinned. “Sometimes.”
“All the time.”
“Surely you don’t believe that? I come with good references.”
“You get references from the women you’ve dated?”
“I didn’t say the references were from women or from previous dates. Just that I had references.”
“From?”
“My mother.”
She rolled her eyes and tried not to pay attention to the man who entered the room holding her lab order. He checked over her information, verifying all the pertinent details.
Her heartbeat began to roar in her ears at a deafening level.
“You should meet her sometime,” Lance continued as if she weren’t on the verge of a major come-apart.
“Nice penguin suit, Dr. Spencer,” the phlebotomist teased, his gaze running over Lance’s spiffy suit.
“Thanks, George, I’m starting a new trend.”
“Pretty sharp-looking, but good luck with that,” the phlebotomist said, then introduced himself to McKenzie. “In case you didn’t catch it, I’m George.”
He then verified her name and information, despite the fact McKenzie had seen him around the hospital in the past. She imagined he had a checklist he had to perform.
So did she. Sit in this chair. Remain calm. Do not pass out. Do not decide to forget the first three items on her checklist and run away as fast as she could.
She clenched and unclenched her sweaty hands.
“She’d like you,” Lance continued as if the phlebotomist hadn’t interrupted their conversation about his mother and wasn’t gathering his supplies.
Oh, she didn’t want anyone else to know of her phobia. Why couldn’t she just tell herself everything was going to be fine and then believe it? Everything was going to be fine. People did not die from having blood drawn. She knew that logically. But logic had nothing to do with what was happening inside her body.
“McKenzie?”
Her gaze lifted to Lance’s.
“You should go to dinner with me sometime.”
“No.” She might be distracted, but she wasn’t that distracted.
“You have other plans?”
“I do.”
“I haven’t said which day I wanted to take you to dinner. Maybe I wanted to take you out over the holidays.”
“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to go to dinner with you. Not now or over the holidays.”
“Ouch.”
“That’s my line,” she told him, watching George with growing dread.
The phlebotomist swiped an alcohol pad across her left antecubital space. “Relax your arm.”
Yeah, right.
Lance moved closer. “McKenzie, you have to relax your arm or he can’t stick you.”
Exactly. That’s why her arm wasn’t relaxed.
Lance took her right hand and gave it a squeeze. “Look at me, McKenzie.”
She did. She locked her gaze with his and forced her brain to stay focused on him rather than George. That really shouldn’t have been a problem except George held the needle he was lowering toward her arm.
She wanted to pull away but she just gripped Lance’s hand all the tighter.
She wanted to run, but she kept her butt pasted into her chair. Somehow.
“Keep your eyes on me, McKenzie.”
Her eyes were on him, locked into a stare with him. It wasn’t helping. All she could think about was George and his blasted needle.
She was going to pass out.
Lance lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her clenched fingers.
McKenzie frowned. “What was that for?”
“You’ve had a rough evening.”
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Sure, I should have. You deserve accolades for everything you’ve done.”
“That’s ridiculous. I just did my job.”
“You’re going to feel a stick,” George warned, and she did.
Sweat drenched her skin.
Lance took the man’s words as permission to do whatever he pleased. Apparently, kissing her hand again pleased him because he pressed another kiss to her flesh. This time his mouth lingered.
“Stop that.” She would have pulled away but she was too terrified to move. Plus, her mind was going dark. “I think I’m going to pass out,” she warned as the needle connected with its target.
She gritted her teeth, but didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
“Stay with me, McKenzie.”
“No.”
He laughed. “You planning to sleep through this?”
“Something like that.” Her gaze dropped to where George swapped one vial for another as he drew blood from her arm.
She shouldn’t have looked. She shouldn’t have.
“Hey.”
Lance’s rough tone had her gaze darting back to him.
“Stay with me or I might have to do mouth-to-mouth.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I’d dare.” He waggled his brows. “Do you think I have a shot at dating you?”
“Not a chance.” She glowered at him. Really? He was going to ask her that now?
“Then I should go ahead with that mouth-to-mouth while you’re in a compromised situation.”
“I’m not that compromised,” she warned, curling her free-from-George fingers into a fist.
“Don’t mind me, folks. I’m just doing my job here,” George assured them with a chuckle.
“I’m doing my best not to mind you.” Actually, she was doing her best not to think about him and that needle.
“You’re doing fine,” he praised.
Amazingly, she was doing better than she’d have dreamed possible. She glanced toward Lance.
He was why she was doing better than expected. Because he was distracting her. With threats of mouth-to-mouth.
Her heart was pounding from fear, not thoughts of Lance’s mouth on hers, not of him taking advantage of her compromised situation.
George removed the needle from her arm. McKenzie glanced down, saw the sharp tip, and another wave of clamminess hit her.
She lifted her gaze to Lance’s to tell him she was about to go out.
“McKenzie, don’t do it.” He snapped his fingers in front of her face, as if that would somehow help. “Stay with me.”
But out she went.
