Читать книгу The Nurse's Brooding Boss - Laura Iding - Страница 8

FINISHING her shift, while being stuck in the trauma bay with Brock Madison, was the hardest thing Elana had had to do since moving into her first foster home at the tender age of fifteen.

He’d wanted to talk things through.

Yeah. Right. To make himself feel better, no doubt.

Elana swallowed hard, trying without success to keep from ruminating over Brock Madison. Even when he wasn’t in the immediate area, she’d found herself searching for him. If only so she could find a way to stay as far away from him as possible.

Raine was right: Brock was devastatingly attractive. Too much so. In those brief moments when he’d pinned her with his sizzling blue gaze, she’d nearly forgotten how much she hated him.

Brock had matured over the years. She shouldn’t have been surprised; it wasn’t as if she was the same angry and confused fifteen-year-old, either. But for some reason, her brain had always pictured him as the young, reckless college student who’d been speeding down the highway when Felicity pulled out in front of him.

For years she’d railed against the unfairness of it all. Brock had essentially walked away from the crash with only a couple of minor injuries—a broken collarbone and a few cracked ribs—while Felicity had died at the scene.

Enough. She needed to stop wallowing in the past. She threw herself into her work with a vengeance. Elana thought she’d successfully hidden her feelings towards Brock, but at the end of their shift, Raine cornered her in the staff lounge.

“All right, give. What is up with you and Dr Madison?”

Elana raised a brow, trying to keep her expression impassive. “Nothing.”

Raine rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure, and I’m Princess Stephanie. Come on, Elana. It’s obvious you two know each other. For one thing, he called you by name before anyone had introduced you. And then he followed you to the staff lounge to talk to you in private. Did the two of you have a relationship in the past or what?”

Relationship? Good Lord, nothing could be further from the truth. “No. I barely know the guy.”

“I don’t believe you.” Raine swiped her badge through the time clock, and Elana followed suit. “I’m not blind. There’s a definite tension between you.”

Elana suppressed a sigh, knowing Raine would continue to badger her endlessly unless she explained. “Remember when I told you my sister died in a car crash nine years ago?”

Raine frowned. “Yes.” Then her eyes rounded. “Was your sister dating Brock at the time?”

“No. Worse.” Elana walked into the staff locker room to retrieve her purse. She slammed the locker door shut with more force than was necessary. “Brock was the driver of the car that hit her.”

“No! Really?” Raine’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I was.” Elana’s expression was grim, and she dropped onto the bench, her shoulders slumping with sudden fatigue. Keeping up the pretense that everything was okay when it really wasn’t had been exhausting. “I don’t know if I can do this, Raine,” she whispered. “I don’t think I can work with him.”

Raine sat down beside her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Don’t make any rash decisions, Elana. I’m sure this has been a shock, but Brock Madison seems to be a really good doctor. Maybe you need to give him a chance.”

Give him a chance? Why? What about Felicity’s chance? Her sister’s life had ended far too young, and it was all Brock’s fault.

She didn’t want to give him a chance. Logically, Elana knew Raine might be right, since Chloe would have told her the same thing. But letting go of the past wasn’t easy. Those dark years after her sister’s death had been so awful. She winced and rubbed her pounding temple. “I can’t,” she murmured.

“Elana, you can. You’re an adult now, and you’re strong. Remember I’m always here for you if you need to talk.” Raine gave her a quick hug. “Call me anytime.”

Elana flashed a weak smile. “Thanks.”

They gathered their things and headed outside to the staff parking lot. The night air was chilly for April, and she hunched her shoulders against the breeze, having left her coat in the car in her rush to get to work on time.

That night Elana couldn’t sleep. Because there was no way she was going to be able to work with Brock. And she mourned the fact that her career as a trauma nurse was likely over.

“Brock? Do you have a minute?”

Elana’s voice made him stop and turn in amazement. She’d called out to him. Voluntarily. Her dark eyes were warm and welcoming, making her even more beautiful than the first time he’d seen her at work. “Elana. It’s great to see you.”

Her tremulous smile made his chest tighten with anticipation. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Brock. I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for the way I treated you the other day. I had no right to be angry with you.”

“I—don’t know what to say. Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?” He could barely allow himself to hope.

She smiled. “Yes, Brock. I forgive you.”

The incessant ringing of his phone pulled him from the dream. With a low groan of regret, Brock pried his eyes open, searching for his cell phone. Whoever was calling him this early in the morning had better have a good reason.

He’d wanted to stay asleep. To spend more time with the Elana in his dreams. The beautiful, smiling Elana who didn’t blame him for her sister’s death.

“Yeah?” He opened his phone without looking at the screen to see who was calling.

“Brock? You gotta help me, man.” He could barely hear his younger brother Joel’s voice over the shrill wailing of a baby in the background. “I can’t take it any more. Tucker’s crying non-stop. There has to be something wrong with him. Something bad. He cries all the time!”

Wincing at the desperation in his brother’s tone, he swung out of bed. Joel had got his girlfriend, Lacey, pregnant, and while Brock admired his brother’s efforts, Joel was obviously struggling in his attempt to do the right thing. “Try to relax. Babies can sense when something is wrong. Tucker is only seven weeks old; maybe he’s a little colicky. Does he seem better riding in the car? Or in the baby swing?”

“No. Nothing works.” Joel’s tone rose in agitation. “He just cries and cries. I’m telling you, there’s something seriously wrong!”

Brock scrubbed a hand over his chin. Joel was only twenty-two, but his girlfriend, Lacey, was even younger, just six months past nineteen. They were young and finding it difficult to handle the responsibility of a brand-new family. Hence Brock’s decision to move back to Milwaukee. Especially after hearing their father had refused to offer Joel any financial help. He felt bad for Joel. The screaming baby in the background was already getting on his nerves, and he wasn’t there with them. “All right, maybe there is something going on with the baby other than just colic. You and Lacey need to take Tucker to the doctor for a check-up.”

“We thought you could look at him,” Joel said. “Since neither of us has health insurance.”

“There’s a low-income family clinic that caters for mothers and babies in Lacey’s position,” Brock explained patiently. “I don’t mind taking a look at Tucker, but I’m not a peds expert. And I can’t run lab tests on him to see if he has some sort of infection. Or do a chest X-ray of his lungs if he needs one. You could bring him to the ED while I’m working, but that will end up costing you more than simply going to the clinic. I really think you should go where they can offer the most help.”

“All right. Where is this so-called clinic?” Joel asked in defeat.

Brock gave him the directions, wondering if the hospital had failed to give Lacey this information after she’d given birth. They certainly should have done more to help these two young kids, especially knowing Lacey’s financial situation. They’d qualify for food support as well as basic health-care needs.

“You’re going to be fine, Joel,” he tried to reassure his brother.

“I don’t know,” Joel protested. “I’m not as strong as you, Brock.”

“Yes, you are.” He wished he could give his brother the self-confidence he needed. “You’re stronger than you know.”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Joel said evasively.

He didn’t push, knowing Joel was under a huge amount of stress. Their father had basically tossed Joel onto the street. Brock had helped them move into a small duplex apartment and paid the security deposit along with the first three months of rent. Joel was only working part-time at a gas station, so Brock had also been trying to help his brother find a full-time job, one that would ideally provide decent benefits. Raising a child in this day and age without health insurance was not easy.

He stared at his phone. Should he have offered to take Tucker to the clinic? No, as much as he wanted to help his brother, he couldn’t do everything for Joel. His brother would become more self-confident if he grew up a bit and took some responsibility.

After tossing his cell phone back down on his discarded clothes, Brock flopped back down on his bed, throwing his arm up over his eyes. He wished he could fall back asleep, picking up the dream with Elana where he’d left off. For a few brief moments, her forgiveness had swept away the dark cloud of guilt, making him feel light-hearted and happy.

But it was only a dream. In reality, Elana hadn’t forgiven him for the accident that had stolen her sister’s life. And, considering the way their conversation had ended so abruptly yesterday, he had to acknowledge she never would.

He knew he needed to let it go, but the sting of her rejection continued to gnaw at him. Why he was letting it bother him, he had no idea. He’d carried the guilt of that night for a long time. Had changed his major to medicine the semester after the accident, vowing to make a difference in other people’s lives.

He’d also done what he could for Elana. More than she realized. Yet nothing he could do would bring Felicity back.

Her sister’s death had haunted him for years. No reason for that to change now.

The best thing he could do for Elana was to stay far away from her. He’d caused her enough pain. He refused to cause any more.

Elana hadn’t slept well, but her fatigue didn’t keep her in bed for long. Today was Wednesday, the day she was scheduled to work a four-hour stint volunteering at the low-income family clinic providing care to people who didn’t have access to better health care.

Normally she enjoyed her hours at the clinic, as there was something immensely satisfying about helping people in need. Some of the cases were heart-wrenching, the pregnant mothers trying to overcome their addictions, or the young people who’d contracted HIV, but there were also a lot of people who just needed a helping hand.

Today her head pounded with a dull ache she’d had ever since she’d woken up that morning. No doubt a result of a restless night, which was all Brock Madison’s fault.

But she wasn’t going to think about him. Brock was just another ED doctor she’d have to work with. And if he liked trauma, then maybe she’d ask Stacey to assign her to one of the arena teams for a while. At least until she figured out what her options were.

Staying in the ED long-term was clearly not going to work. She needed to find a new career and fast.

Shaking off her depressing thoughts, Elana drove her tiny compact car down to the clinic. The clinic was in the middle of the low-income district, several miles from her tiny apartment. The clinic had to be close to where people in need lived because many of these clients didn’t have cars or other means of reliable transportation.

Finding a parking space was always a challenge. As she walked inside the clinic, she discovered Tina Kaplan was the receptionist on duty.

“Hi, Tina. How are you today?”

“Great, Elana. How is your aunt Chloe doing?”

All of the staff at the New Beginnings Clinic knew Chloe, her foster mother, had volunteered her time here as a receptionist while Elana was growing up. Elana was glad that she could now return the favor, carrying on her foster mother’s tradition. “She’s wonderful. The cardiac stent went very well.”

“I’m so glad.” Tina handed over the list of patients who were already waiting to be seen. Their clients often began lining up at the door a half hour before the clinic officially opened.

“Me too.” Elana took the list and scanned it, as always checking to see which of her previous clients might be making a return visit. “Thanks, Tina. Who’s the doctor coming in today?”

“Hmm.” Tina glanced up at the handwritten schedule. “Looks like Liz Jacoby is the MD on the schedule today.”

Liz was an exceptionally talented African-American woman who donated a lot of her time to the New Beginnings Clinic. Most of their clients didn’t know that Liz Jacoby was also a nationally renowned breast cancer physician. Elana loved working with her. Her dull headache began to fade. “Excellent. We should have a good day, then.”

“When do you want me to start sending patients back?” Tina asked.

“Give me five minutes to make sure everything is well stocked, and then you can let ’em rip.”

Tina laughed, and Elana smiled as she headed back to the exam room. She routinely saw the patients first and then got the physician involved in their care as needed. Their system would have worked better with more volunteers, but so far, other than Raine, she hadn’t convinced any of her other co-workers to help by donating their time.

The first few patients came through with simple enough concerns. One woman had a bad cough with a fever that Elana suspected was a case of bronchitis turning into pneumonia. The next two patients were severely dehydrated from the stomach flu that was making its way through the city. Another young man came in with a serious burn on his forearm, with a story she absolutely did not believe.

“Jackson, there is no way you got this burn from a lighter falling on your arm,” she told him sternly. “Do you really think I’m that stupid? I can tell this is a gasoline burn. So why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

The young man refused to talk. Elana sighed and applied a generous amount of ointment to the burn, wrapping it with gauze to keep it clean and dry. Maybe Liz would be able to pry more information out of the taciturn young man.

“Elana?” Tina called from the other side of the door.

“Yes?”

“How much longer? There’s a young woman and a crying baby that need to get in to see you right away.”

That didn’t sound too good. She reached over and opened the door. “I’m nearly finished. Jackson just needs to see Dr Jacoby while I get his wound supplies together.”

“I’ll do it. Tell me what he needs.”

Elana raised a brow. “What’s going on? Is the baby that sick?”

“I don’t know, but the mother is crying almost as hard as the baby.” Tina’s eyes were full of compassionate concern. “I can’t stand it.”

“All right, get him ten rolls of gauze and a jar of burns cream. Jackson, you need to change this dressing twice a day and return here to the clinic in five days, do you understand? We need to make sure that burn doesn’t get infected.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Tina hustled the young man out of the exam room, taking him over to see the doctor. Elana quickly threw out the paper strip from the exam table and wiped down the surface with a disposable bleach cloth. Within two minutes, a young waif-thin girl lugging a crying baby on her shoulder came into the room.

“Good morning, I’m the nurse here, my name is Elana. What’s going on today?”

The young woman’s eyes were swollen and red from her weeping. “He just keeps crying and crying. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she murmured.

“There now, I’m sure it’s nothing you’re doing wrong,” Elana said firmly. “What’s your name? Do you mind if I hold him for a minute?”

Letting out a loud sniffle, the young woman handed the baby over. “I’m Lacey, and his name is Tucker. He’s seven weeks old.”

“Hi, Tucker,” Elana crooned, gently nuzzling the baby, testing the temperature of his skin. He did feel warm, but that could just as easily be because of the crying. She loved babies, another reason she volunteered her time here. Giving him one last nuzzle, she laid him on the exam table and undid his diaper, looking for obvious signs of irritation, like diaper rash, before using her stethoscope to listen to his heart and lungs.

Not an easy task while he was crying.

“Are you breast-feeding?” Elana asked, her heart going out to the waif-thin girl. The baby sounded a bit congested, but it could be merely the result of his non-stop crying. His ears didn’t look red, ruling out an ear infection.

“No. We give him whatever formula is on sale at the store,” Lacey admitted.

“That might be your problem,” Elana said gently. “Colicky babies don’t tolerate dairy-based formula, and you should really stick to one brand. I want you to try the soy-based formula, and nothing else. I’ll give you some free samples here.”

“Are you sure it’s nothing more serious?” Lacey asked, swiping her nose on her sleeve. The motion pushed up the sleeve of her shirt, revealing a few bloody cuts on her forearm. As if she sensed Elana’s gaze, she quickly covered the area back up again. “I can’t believe Tucker is crying this much just because of colic.”

Elana wanted to ask about the suspicious marks she saw on Lacey’s arm, but at the moment little Tucker was her primary concern. “Don’t underestimate colic, Lacey. I’ve seen many mothers reduced to tears over inconsolably crying babies. There are many ways to treat colic. First let me get a soy-based formula sample for you to try, okay?”

Lacey sniffled again and nodded.

“I’ll be right back.” Elana handed her the baby and hurried over to their jam-packed supply cabinet and found a six-pack of soy-based cans of formula and a disposable bottle. After quickly preparing the bottle, she brought it back to the exam room.

“Here, see if he’ll take this,” she instructed.

Lacey held the baby in the crook of her arm and tried the bottle. At first Tucker sucked greedily, then, after a few minutes, he turned his head away and began crying again.

“See how he’s hungry but then turns away? That’s another classic sign of colic, too much gas. We can give him some anti-gas medicine in an eyedropper that should work. And I will get Dr Jacoby to take a listen to him just to be sure there’s nothing else going on.” Elana hesitated and then carefully asked, “Do you have anyone to help you, Lacey? Or are you raising Tucker all alone?”

Lacey shrugged, trying to get Tucker to take the bottle again. “Joel, the baby’s father, is trying to help me, but he can’t stand it when Tucker cries.”

Oh, boy. Sounded like Joel and Lacey needed a lot of help. And she couldn’t dismiss those cuts on Lacey’s arms. She understood how hopelessness could suffocate your soul.

“Lacey, I’m here for you. I’d like you to come back in two days and bring Joel with you. You both need to learn how to deal with a colicky baby. I’ve heard using a baby swing alongside a noisy vacuum cleaner works, and car rides. Once Tucker gets the dairy products out of his system and starts on the anti-gas medication, he should be better.”

“Joel’s brother is a doctor, and even he thought there might be something more wrong with the baby,” Lacey said defensively.

She frowned at Lacey’s tone. Did the poor girl feel as if she wasn’t a good mother because she couldn’t handle the baby’s crying? “Really? Is his brother a pediatric specialist?”

“No, but Brock works in the emergency department at Trinity Medical Center.”

Brock? Had she heard correctly? Her stomach clenched, and she forced herself to ask, “What’s Joel’s last name?”

“Madison. Joel Madison.”