Читать книгу A &E Affairs - Lynne Marshall - Страница 38
ОглавлениеTHE next morning, not wanting to wear anything suggestive, Jan dressed carefully in a red Mexican-styled blouse with a bright embroidered bib for her breakfast date with Beck. He’d suggested the Pancake House, and she couldn’t help but think he’d chosen their favorite teenage haunt in Glendale as a reminder. Amazingly, the place hadn’t changed much at all.
Jan entered the A-frame building to find Beck already seated in a booth near the entrance. She wrapped the sweater she’d thrown over her shoulders tighter and tied the sleeves around her neck. The old lime green vinyl seats may have been replaced with plusher patterned wine-colored upholstery, but she’d quickly realized he’d chosen their favorite booth, the one by the full-length triangular window. She’d be extra-careful not to get drawn in with nostalgia.
With unreadable eyes, Beck watched her approach and stood when she got closer. “Good morning,” he said with a nod.
“Hi.” She glanced around. “It’s amazing this place is still in business.”
He handed her a large menu. “They’ve even upgraded the food with a few ‘lite’ and healthy items.”
The mundane conversation helped her slip into her seat and deal with the unavoidable anxiety that welled up inside. Meeting Beck for a meal for the first time in thirteen years took more courage than she’d ever dreamed. She tried to ignore the tingling in her palms and twitchy oversensitive feel of her skin. Recalling the kiss they’d shared on Saturday night, and her rapturous response, she’d do anything to avoid touching him again.
Beck tilted his head. “You look like you’re facing a death sentence. That’s a little harsh on a guy’s ego.”
She shook her head, releasing tensed facial muscles. The truth was she didn’t think she’d be able to eat a bite around him. “I just haven’t had my morning coffee yet, that’s all.”
He studied her face, and she knew he didn’t buy one phony word she’d uttered. He waved for the waitress. “Two coffees, please.”
Jan drew a deep breath to force herself to relax, but the tactic failed miserably. Her hands twined into a ball on the table. Why in the world had she consented to meet him?
“So what’s it going to be, a short stack?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his gaze soon after the waitress had left the table.
Why did she allow herself to look into his eyes? There was no trace left of the determined boy she’d once loved. He was all man, confident and proud. She, on the other hand, had all of a sudden reverted to the shy and uncertain tenth-grader on their first date. No. She couldn’t think of this as a date. It was strictly a get-together to touch base and “check in” with an old friend after a long absence.
“A short stack sounds good,” she said.
“That’s more like it.”
“The pancakes?”
“The blouse. It looks more like the girl I remember. All bright colors and attitude.”
Her cheeks warmed and she reached for the glass of ice water. That girl had been missing since her pregnancy. “I wasn’t nearly as flashy as you paint me.”
“You were flashy, January. Trust me.” He gave a knowing grin, approval written all over his face. “That’s part of what I dug about you.”
She shook her head, a hot blush rising from her neck. Flashy or not, she had trusted him, with all of her heart, but look where that had gotten her.
“Level with me—whatever happened to the modeling career?” he continued.
Did he have to remember everything? “That was my mother’s idea,” she bluffed, and hoped he didn’t catch on.
“I’ll say. She went out of her way to send you to some special school during your senior year. Isn’t that what you said when you finally called me? Why didn’t you pursue it?”
The “school” had all been part of the story her mother had helped her fabricate to avoid telling her friends, and especially Beck, that she’d been pregnant. “Truth was, the modeling was my mother’s dream, not mine. She was a teenage mother and single parent. She felt her dreams got stomped on before they ever hatched. We actually don’t talk much any more now that she’s married.”
“She got married?”
Jan nodded. “Some guy from Vegas. I see her maybe twice a year.” If he wanted to put her on the spot, she could do a little delving, too. “So, tell me, Beck, why haven’t you married and settled down?”
One brow subtly lifted. “OK, let’s change the subject.” He stretched his shoulders and reached for his ice water. “Police work has one of the highest divorce rates of any job. I’ve been obligated to the National Guard for the last ten years, and if I want to collect a decent pension from them someday I’ll have to sign on for another ten. But the truth is I’m lousy at relationships.” He looked sheepishly at her. “I guess you already know that.” He gave a distracted smile as the waitress arrived with their coffee. “She’ll need cream,” he directed, without conferring with Jan.
He hadn’t forgotten a thing. His voice had grown deeper over the years and the low resonant sound admittedly soothed her jittery nerves. Everything had already happened between them, and as long as she kept the big secret, things couldn’t possibly get any worse. Why not relax and enjoy the company of the handsome man sitting across the table?
After she’d ordered pancakes, Jan sipped her coffee and gazed at Beck, who was charming the middle-aged waitress with his soulful eyes and slow drawl. Time spent in the military in the southern U.S. had affected his speech more than he probably realized. The effect was a deadly combination of boyish charisma and in-your-face sex appeal. She disguised a sigh as a mini-yawn and forced her gaze toward the tall fake plant in the corner, doing anything to keep from succumbing to his natural appeal.
After the waitress left, he placed his palms flat on the table and asked, “Since you brought the subject up, why didn’t you stay married?”
Jan tossed Beck a puzzled glance. “How do you know about my marriage?”
She didn’t dare tell him the truth—that she’d married an older man for companionship and that she had never really loved him as a wife should, and when he’d pressed her about having children, she hadn’t been able to go through with it. She wouldn’t admit to Beck how her heart had turned to stone in order to survive the day she’d lost him.
“Uh, I guess I just assumed it since your name badge says Ashworth instead of Stewart.”
“Oh. Right. Well, it was a big mistake. We worked together at another hospital and were great friends and we thought we could make a go of it, so we got married five years ago. Let’s just say, after a year we divorced amicably…” They’d filed with irreconcilable differences: he’d loved her but she couldn’t love him. Thanks to no-fault divorces in California, the process had been civilized and unemotional. At least for her. The divorce was more proof that she was meant to be alone.
“Sounds as if we’re more alike than we thought.” He held her gaze. “No kids?”
Her eyes darted from his face to her folded hands. Did he know about Meghan or was he asking about her ex-husband? How could she be a parent to another child after abandoning the first? Her insecurities and guilt had made it impossible for their marriage to survive.
A wave of panic soured the coffee she’d just swallowed. She couldn’t tell whether he knew anything or not. “No. We didn’t have kids.” She avoided Beck’s eyes, opting instead to clarify the situation with her ex-husband and sidestep the topic that struck horror in her heart.
She’d lied and given up a baby that Beck had a right to know about. But her mother had threatened to press statutory rape charges against him if Jan didn’t do exactly what she’d said. She had only been sixteen at the time she’d become pregnant and seventeen when she delivered, and Karen had had specific plans on how to handle the situation. Looking back, Jan realized she’d had no choice other than refusing to “get rid of it”, but to this day she wished things could have been handled differently.
Things grew quiet, on the verge of awkward, when the waitress saved the day by arriving with their breakfast. They both dug in.
After a few minutes Beck broke the silence. “What do you think’s going on with that pregnant teenage girl having seizures?”
“I don’t have a clue, but I intend to ask Gavin to keep me in the loop.”
“My theory is…” he wiped a bit of syrup from the corner of his mouth and swallowed before continuing “…the boyfriend gave her an ultimatum when he found out she was pregnant. Get rid of it or lose me. Maybe she couldn’t go through with what he suggested.”
She stopped in mid-bite and stared at him. Was there a hidden message in his words, or was he merely talking about the recent ER case? She wanted to ask him what his real point was, but wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, so she swallowed the pancakes and reached for her coffee. “Don’t know if we’ll ever find out all of that information, but it’s a possibility.” Keep things superficial. Nonchalant. Why were her hands trembling? “Maybe she just found out she was pregnant and hoped he’d ask her to marry him?” Oops. There she went, referring to herself again. “But who can say? It’s a different world out there these days.”
“Tell me about it. One of our probationers recently filed sexual harassment charges toward his training officer.”
“His training officer?”
“Yep. It was a woman doing the harassing, and evidently she’d made her plans for him very clear.” He winked. “Most of the ‘plans’ were for after shift hours and involved little or no clothing. The guy thought he’d have to put out or risk getting a bad recommendation.” Beck grinned.
“My, how the tables have turned.” She smiled back.
For a millisecond she glimpsed their old friendship, how they’d tell each other secrets and discuss things that didn’t make sense to them, and how each could trust the other when it came to figuring life out. And when they couldn’t jointly come to a logical conclusion, which was most of the time, they would laugh.
Throughout her life she’d heard that a true test of friendship was when you could pick up right where you’d left off, no matter how long it’d been since you’d seen the other person. If Jan could take away all the other complications of the relationship between Beck and herself, she could admit that the rest, the friendship part, felt as though they’d never been apart.
Gooey warmth started in her chest and would have turned into a sappy longing for what they used to have, but she put an end to it with a quick reality check. If he knew her secret he’d hate her.
Lately, a new thought had been pushing its way into her conscience. Wishing she could put a sock in the mouth of the tiny voice in the back of her mind, she mentally stuck her fingers in her ears and sang La, la, la, la. It didn’t help. The chant refused to be drowned out. Sooner or later she’d have to face the inevitable.
Beck deserves to know.
Shut up!
Fighting near panic, she diverted her attention. She chanced a glance his way and made an abrupt detour to the hollow of his neck, the spot she’d once loved to kiss. She’d kiss him gently there and watch the pulse speed up and feel amazed that she had that power over him. By the time her gaze met his eyes, he was watching her, carefully, as if he knew exactly what she’d just been thinking.
If he only knew the half of it. Please, don’t let him be a mind-reader.
“You know what I always liked about you, January?”
Discomfort settled around her ribs. Did Beck need to go there? To tell her things she couldn’t bear to hear ever again?
He didn’t give her a chance to stop him. “You weren’t one of those good-looking girls who were always checking themselves out in mirrors or windows. It was almost as if you didn’t know how beautiful you were.”
The ache in her chest twisted into an agonizing knot, and pressed against her lungs. Please, don’t do this to me. I can’t handle it.
She opted for fake cheeriness. “Well, you can’t accuse me of being beautiful these days,” she said, adjusting her glasses and nervously flipping her bobbed hair.
“Not so. You see, blonde highlights and long hair and sexy make-up, that’s icing on the cake, sure. But real beauty is in here.” He tapped his fist on his chest. “Sure, you were a knockout, but I got to know a much more beautiful girl than anyone else did.”
“Please, don’t do this, Beck…”
“Why not? We were too young when we first fell in love. Now we’ve matured. We’re unattached. I still find you very attractive. Why not see if there’s any spark left?”
He still found her attractive? A desert’s worth of dryness filled her throat. She needed a drink of water. Shaking her head adamantly, she reached for the glass and sipped. She’d have to drown herself to quench the thirst. “Number one—we’re working together, and number two—trying to relive the past is always a recipe for disaster.”
His full lips disappeared into a thin line. His hazel stare cut through her defenses. He wadded his napkin up and tossed it on the table, then took the check and studied it. As he did, he said, “Are you seeing someone else?”
She gave a faint shake of her head. He slipped her a sideways glance and smiled. “What have you got to go home to at the end of the day?”
“That’s none of your business, Beck. I think you’re being too forward, and you’re making me uncomfortable.”
They reverted to one of their old stand-off stares. The same kind of deadlocked glaze they’d once given when they hadn’t been able to agree on an issue. She’d end the discussion by calling him “Manimal” and he’d retort with “Fembot” then he’d chase her around and she’d pretend to fight him off, until finally she let him kiss her and they’d forget whatever they’d disagreed on.
Man, had things changed.
Something shifted in his eyes, as if he’d just relived the same scenario. “Then I apologize,” he said curtly. He fished in the back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a small business card and a few bills. He left a couple of dollars on the table for a tip then used his fingers to clip the other to the check. “If you change your mind, this is my card.” He separated the business card from the cash and handed it to her. She hesitated, but didn’t want to be rude and took it. “There’s my home phone number and my cell is underneath.”
After he’d paid the bill, he walked her to the parking lot and, squinting from the sun, gave her a half-smile. Sparks seemed to leap off his skin and onto hers. She felt every single point of contact. This reaction to Beck wasn’t about high school and old times, this was now and his sex appeal had fanned and caught like wildfire on her flesh. Her cheeks flushed hot.
“You have a good day off,” he said, and swaggered away.
She stuttered but said goodbye and started toward her car. What did she have to go home to? Grocery shopping? A little house cleaning and then what? Dinner alone, with the company of a book, and, having spent time with Beck, a boatload of forgotten memories? And newly awakened desires she’d long forgotten she possessed.
She tucked his business card into her pocket and dug into her purse for the car keys. After turning down his blunt proposition, she was either the wisest woman on the earth or the biggest fool she’d ever met. Now all she had to do was figure out which.
Beck threw his leg over his bike and secured his helmet. He revved the engine and took off from the parking lot, gliding his foot lightly over the asphalt for balance. Frustration formed knots at the back of his neck. He had a thousand questions he’d meant to ask January, but hadn’t uttered one of them. He wanted to get even with her for screwing up his life, yet any time he spent around her only made him want her more than ever.
He’d recently read an article written by a psychologist on the topic of the high-school reunion effect on rekindling old flames. The gist was that first loves were always the most powerful and often imprinted themselves on the two lovers’ lives, similar to many species of birds that mated for life. The phenomenon, as the author described it, played out year after year as divorced adults rediscovered their first loves at a reunion and wound up finally marrying them.
He’d guffawed at the story when he’d first read it, but something had clicked in the back of his mind. He related to that “imprinted” feeling…with January.
He’d be a total fool to think something like that could happen with her. She’d just made it very clear their time together was ancient history. It was finally time to get over it.
But not before he got even.
Since he’d first hatched the plan, the thought of making her pay had definitely lost its appeal. All he had to do was look at her. Even a few pounds heavier and a lot less glitzy, January had his love-starved brain doing calisthenics. What fool came up with the saying men never made passes at girls who wore glasses? He’d already gotten used to her black, boxy frames. They suited the shape of her face, and even though she probably assumed she looked studious in them, he thought they made her spicier. What he especially liked was how her bob slipped from behind an ear and slanted across one eye. The darker ash blond shade was just as sexy as the old color. And when she used her slender fingers to sweep it away, well, what could he say? It sent an electrical current humming through his body.
To use an old saying, he could kill two birds with one stone. Revenge sex should answer the imprinting question.
After a quiet day on the job on Tuesday, and slipping into scrubs at the hospital, Beck glanced at Jan as she arrived at work. He approached with a broad smile, planning to take another risk and ask her for a date the coming weekend. He wasn’t about to take no for an answer. How else was he going to get into her bed?
Jan hadn’t changed into scrubs yet and she wore straight-legged jeans with copper-colored flats and a matching top. She’d also applied lipstick today, and that small addition made her beach-sky blue eyes nothing less than stunning from behind her heavy framed lenses.
He stalled in mid-stride and swallowed to get himself together.
“You’re just the man I was looking for,” she said, further derailing his train of thought.
“Yeah?” Nothing like snappy repartee to entice a lady.
“Yeah.” She crossed her arms and tapped a foot. “I’ll talk to you after I’ve changed,” she said as she slipped into the ladies’ dressing room.
Maybe she’d changed her mind about seeing him?
Beck hung around, feeling both optimistic and like a fool—a fool with a grudge and a plan to get even.
With a booming voice, Carmen announced an incoming major trauma patient via helicopter, and Gavin appeared at his office door and strode to Beck’s side.
“We’ll do this intake together,” Gavin said.
Jan emerged from the locker room in uniform and Gavin added her to the team. “Jan, show Beck to the roof and transport the patient together.”
She nodded.
As they made their way to the roof, Beck expected Jan to finish what she’d started to say earlier. Instead, he found she’d moved on to the weather and quizzing him about helicopter transports and the military. He didn’t want to be pushy, so he let his curiosity take a back seat and answered her questions.
He’d make time to ask her for a date later.
“You know what this guy is here for, right?” she said.
He nodded.
“Motorcycle accident,” she said, staring him down.
“Yep.”
“Doesn’t it make you wonder how long your luck will hold out?”
“I don’t take risks,” he said.
She sputtered a laugh.
“What?” He innocently raised his hands just as the helicopter came into view. He’d play the charming card until he got what he wanted.
The yellow helicopter circled the hospital. The flapping noise of the rotor blades intensified during the descent until Beck thought his ears would burst. A gale-force blast practically knocked them off their feet while the chopper landed.
Almost the instant the aircraft touched down, the door slid open and the flight EMT and attendant jumped out, lowering the patient, who was strapped onto a stretcher.
Jan led the way with the ER gurney and Beck pushed along behind her. Her hair flipped and flapped against her head, looking like the spinning helicopter blades. Powerful wind pelted his face with sharp pinpricks of sensation. He raised his forearm and elbow to guard against the onslaught, to no avail.
The EMT shouted something at them. Beck couldn’t hear a thing beyond the rhythmic air-chopping beat. The sound threw him back in time to a battlefield and the cries for help, to decisions, right or wrong, that changed soldier’s lives, some for better, others for worse. In a flash, memories of life-threatening times resurfaced, where the tick of the clock hammered down on him. He tensed. Fine perspiration moistened his upper lip.
“Beck!” Jan grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. “Give us a hand.”
He snapped out of his nightmarish thoughts.
The three worked in tandem to transfer the back-boarded, neck-braced, and extremity-splinted twenty-something patient from stretcher to hospital gurney in one smooth move. Though a practiced and swift transfer, the man still cried out in pain.
Both arms and the left leg were broken, according to the previously called-in report. There were also possible head and neck injuries, though the patient appeared to be fairly alert. After the transfer, they pushed the patient toward the locked hospital ER elevator at a quick clip.
Once inside the elevator the emergency medical flight technician gave them more detail. “He went down on the freeway, weaving between cars. Compound fractures of the right femur and left humerus and radius. Crushed tibia and fibula, right side, from passing car. Fractured right humerus. Possible cervical and hip fractures. Peter, can you hear me?” the EMT called out to the semi-conscious patient.
A faint, hoarse voice replied. “Yeah.”
Every bump and joggle of the gurney caused the patient to cry out in pain as they exited the elevator and rolled him closer to the ER. Sadistic as it seemed, Beck was glad to hear them as the man’s cries were a good sign, proving he still had some fight left in him.
“Vital signs stable with elevated blood pressure 155 over 90, pulse 110, and respirations 24, with good oxygen levels.”
Gavin met them at the entrance to the ER and the EMT repeated his information as they speed-walked the patient to an available procedure room. Gavin dismissed a medical student and a first-year ER resident who’d fallen in step with them. “We’ll handle this one.”
After a complete physical assessment of the patient, including a neuro check and a slew of verbal orders, including multiple X-rays, he glanced at Beck. “We need IV access to prep him for surgery and to give pain meds.” He turned back to the patient. “You’re not on blood thinners, are you?”
The guy mouthed, “no.”
Gavin turned back to Beck. “With his compound fractures, he’ll need antibiotic therapy, too.”
Gavin walked Beck to the side of the room and lowered his voice. “You’ve done central venous line insertions, right, Beck?”
Beck turned his head and lowered his voice so the patient couldn’t hear. “Only jugular sticks, and nothing like the procedure you do.”
“You’ve seen me start a few of these babies the last couple of days. What’s that saying? Watch one, do one, teach one?”
Beck raised his brows and nodded.
“That’s what you’re here for, right? To update and enhance your experience?”
“On the frontline our goal is to keep the patient alive long enough to get them transported to the field hospital. I can stick a jugular or femoral with the best of them, even do intra-osseous hydration, but this is out of my experience.”
“You’ve got great hands. I’ve watched you. You can do this. You’ve watched one. Now it’s time to do one. Next week you can teach the interns.” Gavin smiled and winked. “Come on, I’ll talk you through it,” he went on in a raspy whisper.
Beck hesitated. If the central venous line wasn’t inserted properly it could puncture the lung or the subclavian artery, which could cause hemorrhaging. Did he want to risk it for experience?
“Look, I’ve got five or six other guys chomping at the bit to do this. I’m offering it to you. It’s your call.”
Beck’s first inclination was to let the intern or resident do the procedure, but the adventurous part of him, the part Gavin had just challenged, thought, Why not?
All Gavin had to do was look at Jan and on cue she went right to work gathering the supplies.
“And I’ll give you my best nurse to assist. Hell, she could perform a subclavian in her sleep. She’ll anticipate your every need, and I’m here as back up if you run into a problem.”
Gavin was offering a once-in-a-lifetime chance. He decided to take it. Beck nodded and walked toward the gurney. He looked at the semi-conscious patient. The last thing he wanted to do was make matters worse for the guy, but Gavin believed in him and any experience here at Mercy Hospital was a bonus and could save a life in the field.
With the patient’s neck in a cervical collar, the jugular approach was definitely out, which left the subclavian route, a procedure he was much less familiar with. His brain jumped to hyper-speed, running through the procedure he’d never actually performed himself but had observed frontline doctors and Gavin do.
Recalling how his advanced medic courses had made training even more challenging by first having the medics run a mile, dive under low shelters and start IVs in near darkness while holding the fluid bags with their teeth, he figured this couldn’t be much more difficult. The jugular lines he’d trained on, though on sedated goats, had to be performed in equally chaotic circumstances while being timed with a stopwatch. And in the field the only way to check if you’d made it into the right vein was to lower the IV bag and check for backflow.
It would be a huge risk, but Gavin believed in his skills, and life was all about taking chances if you wanted to grow.
All things considered, the controlled atmosphere and bright lighting, with Gavin’s back-up and Jan’s assistance, this procedure should be far less complicated. Still, his confidence wavered and he took a deep breath to steady his hands. He used the only technique that ever got him through battles: tune out the rest of the world—focus on the patient, one procedure, and one chance at success.
OK. He was ready.
Beck cut open the patient’s shirt and exposed the area he’d be working on. He washed his hands while January tilted the head of the bed slightly toward the floor to make sure the central veins were filled.
While he gowned up and put on gloves, Jan used the antimicrobial wash to cleanse the skin.
Jan also wore sterile gloves and she handed him the local anesthetic in a syringe with a small needle. He’d concentrate deep at the middle third of the clavicle to find the vein for cannulation, so he started superficially injecting the anesthetic there and worked outward along the entire length of the bone. Gavin nodded his approval.
Without having to ask, Jan handed him a longer needle and he injected a second round of medicine deeper into the flesh to ensure a pain-free procedure. Drawing on strict training, with each injection he aspirated to make sure he hadn’t punctured the vein.
She handed him the guidewire and Gavin helped him check both the stiff and floppy ends while waiting for the anesthetic to numb the skin. He spoke quietly into Beck’s ear, telling him the next step of the procedure.
Beck reached for the scalpel Jan provided and used it to nick the skin just enough to make sure the cannula would fit. He firmly palpated for the pulse, then used the introducer attached to a syringe and guided it carefully into the deep part of the clavicle, aiming toward the sternal notch.
He encountered resistance. The last thing he wanted was to run into trouble with an audience. He lifted his gaze toward his attending doctor.
Gavin spoke up. “Walk the introducer down just a bit.” Beck complied. “That’s it,” Gavin said.
He followed Gavin’s instruction until he had passed the blockage and could easily advance the introducer again. Steady suction on the attached syringe revealed a flush of blood when he entered the vein. He deftly removed the syringe from the introducer, feeling a bit like a circus juggler. Gavin had gloved up and reached in to help him handle the exchange. Beck used his thumb to prevent back-flush of blood from the introducer entrance.
Again, as though reading his mind, Jan was right there, handing him the guide wire to insert into the introducer. He took great care to make sure the wire didn’t uncurl past the sterile field. Gavin hovered, ready to jump in if anything went wrong, and held a portion of the wire that threatened to touch outside the field.
Once satisfied he was in the right place, after checking the markers on the guide wire and leaving just a bit protruding from the insertion site, Beck glanced at Gavin, who nodded his approval.
“Looks right,” Gavin said.
Beck removed the introducer over the guide wire. Jan handed him the cannula, already having removed the plastic end-stop, and he inserted it over the guide wire until it was level with the skin. Once confident all was well, and getting a nod of approval from Gavin, he removed the guide wire and left the cannula in place. He passed the withdrawn wire to Jan, who was waiting to receive it. In the field, he’d had to do everything in the procedures himself, and having her assistance was a luxury he greatly appreciated.
Jan had flushed the connecting line with saline and her steady hand reached toward his to attach it snugly to the cannula. A quick flash came to mind of the famous Michelangelo painting of The Hand of God where fingers almost touched. January was the only other person who knew about his passion for art. Hell, they’d discovered art together.
He quickly refocussed when she handed off the line and he connected it. When she passed him the needle and sutures, he took another breath, glad to see something that was easy for him to perform. He dutifully stitched the cannula in place flush to the skin through two separate holes in small plastic wings.
He let out his breath, not having been aware he’d been holding it, and allowed himself a mental pat on the back at a job well done. He passed a subtle smile January’s way. She nodded her approval.
While he disposed of the extra suture and the needle, Jan cleaned and swabbed the skin and applied a small dressing.
Shortly after that the portable X-ray technician came to take a quick radiograph of the chest. They stepped outside and Gavin slapped him on the back.
“That was smooth,” Gavin said. “Just like a pro. Have you ever thought about becoming a doctor?”
Beck laughed. “Never.” He grinned but quickly stopped when he noticed the dagger looks from a couple of interns. He shifted and glanced at Jan down the hall, disposing of the equipment and trash. “She was a huge help.”
Gavin grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. “The nurses here at Mercy are exceptional, and Jan is one of our best.” He glanced with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes at Carmen. “Whatever you do, don’t let her know I said that.”
Beck chuckled and nodded. “Not a chance.”
Gavin barreled toward the obviously unhappy interns. “Follow me to my office.” They did what they were told.
Five minutes later the X-ray revealed that the subclavian line was in the right atrium instead of the superior vena cava. Beck had advanced it too far. Once again, under Gavin’s tutelage, they went back to the patient, snipped the sutures and withdrew the line approximately 5 centimeters. They took another X-ray, which revealed proper placement, before suturing the line in place again.
Shortly thereafter the patient was transferred to surgery and Gavin once again arranged for Beck to scrub in and observe.
Excited about the OR opportunity, Beck couldn’t help being a bit disappointed when he realized he wouldn’t be seeing Jan again the rest of the shift. She’d teased him earlier and he was hoping for that shot at another date, but now it would have to wait.
Taking the hallway steps two at a time, rather than wait for the notoriously slow elevator, Beck was halfway to the second-floor surgery suites when his cellphone rang.
It was Jan.
