Читать книгу Winter Solstice - Michelle Garren Flye - Страница 6

Chapter 2

Although the public relations office was notoriously slow-paced, Becky stayed busy for the next two weeks. She ordered up-to-date brochures and handled several press releases of the “feel good” variety. She visited most of the departments, became familiar with the procedures and the doctors, established contact with the area newspapers and even took a few reporters out to lunch. As she became more comfortable in her job, Becky felt she was pulling her weight and staying prepared for anything that might be thrown at her.

Anything, that was, except what Adam brought in and slapped on her desk Friday morning. “New assignment for you.” He sounded cheerful, though his expression was guarded. “Starts Monday, so do your homework.”

Becky took one look at the letter he’d brought her and gasped in horror. “No! You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Sorry, Becky.” Adam looked so smug she was fairly certain he wasn’t sorry at all. In fact, he might as well have admitted he planned the whole thing. “It’s something the board has wanted to do for a while. We just needed somebody with experience to be able to carry it off. Judging by the clips you showed me when I hired you, you’re the right person for the job.”

“Yes, but following a doctor around for a month?” She closed her eyes and groaned. “What can I learn in a month that I couldn’t learn in twenty-four hours, or in a series of interviews?”

He shrugged. “A month-long blog about your experiences with the doctor could be invaluable PR for the hospital, and I know you’ll do it right. Besides, what are you complaining about? You don’t even know who the doctor is yet.” He handed her another folder.

She opened it to find an eight-by-ten glossy portrait of Dr. John Grant. She stared at the handsome, stony face, then back at Adam. “This has got to be somebody’s idea of a joke.”

“Nope.” The shake of Adam’s head was final. “He’s just won some doctor of the year award or something, which makes it a perfect opportunity to implement the board’s plan. What’s the problem, anyway, Becky? You play your cards right, this is a byline in a real paper. Probably front page of the Lifestyle section. I’m betting the blog will get a hundred hits a day.”

Becky fought a brief but intense internal battle with herself. She didn’t like this idea, but she knew it would be useless and unprofessional to say so. Besides, she didn’t want to admit John Grant scared her. “I don’t have a problem. But are you sure Dr. Grant’s willing to go along with this? He doesn’t seem like the type to put up with something like this. What was it you said he’d won?”

“It’s in there.” He flipped the pages of the folder to a faxed press release.

“Emergency Medicine’s Best Patient Relations.” She raised her eyebrows. “That’s actually pretty impressive.”

“Exactly.” His voice was firm. “As for John, don’t worry about it. He likes you.”

Becky blushed and looked at the picture of John Grant to cover her embarrassment, though seeing the sculpted face didn’t really help.

As if he’d read her mind, Adam added, “And at least he’s good-looking, right?”

She slapped the folder closed. “Thanks, Adam. I’ll get started on the background research right away.”

“All righty then.” He stood, looking uncertain and relieved at the same moment. “I’ll leave you to your work.”

She nodded, smiled and waved at Adam, biting the inside of her lip. “See you.”

Becky turned her attention to John’s CV, trying desperately not to look at the photo observing her with a disconcerting, sardonic grin from the opposite half of the folder. John Grant attended medical school at Johns Hopkins and looked like someone who had a big dog, something like a Labrador. He’d been a member of the AMA since graduating Johns Hopkins, but dress shirts didn’t really suit him, she could picture him in jeans and t-shirts. He did his internship and residency in Philadelphia. She thought jeans would look really good on him...

With a disgusted sigh about her own inability to concentrate, Becky compiled a list of contact names from the information in the folder. She spent most of the rest of the afternoon on the phone requesting transcripts and board scores. Finally, she left a message with a reporter from Emergency Medicine and glanced at her watch. Four thirty. John was on second shift, which began at four PM. She decided to do a little pre-assignment sleuthing.

Emergency room doctors worked eight-hour shifts beginning at eight AM, four PM and midnight. The department would be crowded with extra people at shift change, so no one would likely notice one extra person. Becky decided it would do no harm to sneak into the emergency room and take a peek just to prepare herself. She wasn’t due to follow him until the next week when he started days, and she thought she knew a place where she could observe a large part of the department without being seen.

Becky got into the emergency room without a problem by signing in with the security guard and showing her badge. The radiology reading room was as packed as ever with radiologists, techs and doctors hurrying past. No one noticed when she slipped in and sat on a stool near the door. Eventually the shift change died down and the crowd thinned, but the reading room was still dark and busy with people going to and fro. Becky sat very still in the corner and the busy staff milled about her without taking notice.

She had a good view of a large portion of the emergency room and spotted John Grant quickly. Becky bit her lip and leaned forward a little. He flipped through a chart, discussing it with one of the nurses. He looked good in scrubs, more natural than in his picture. The inevitable white coat was a little threadbare, but Becky could imagine it spreading out like a cape behind him as he rushed around barking orders.

Smiling a little, she rolled her eyes at her own silly fantasy. This wasn’t a soap opera, after all. Even though he had won Best Patient Relations, he was just one of many ER docs on duty and he was hardly superhuman. Still, Becky watched him with fascination as he handed the clipboard to the nurse and started across the room. The nurse gave him an appreciative look before turning away, and Becky grinned to herself. It looked as if Adam was right about John’s effect on women.

At that moment, a radiologist passed her and stuck his head out the door. “Dr. Grant,” he called, causing Becky to shrink further back into the shadows. She was momentarily horrified to catch a glimpse of John heading directly toward her hiding place. He passed so close she caught a whiff of his aftershave as he moved to join the radiologist at the light box.

Overcoming her alarm, she watched with interest as they discussed the films the radiologist mounted on the box. A few interesting phrases–pleural effusion, atelectasis, fracture of the lateral first rib–caught her ear and she made a mental note to look them up in the library. She decided she liked watching John Grant in action. He was more attractive in person than she remembered.

Becky suddenly realized how long she’d been sitting in a cramped position on the stool. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was after six o’clock. She should get home. Not that anyone was waiting for her–Ellen probably wouldn’t be home for hours–but still.

She stood while the two doctors had their backs to her and turned, bumping into a technologist as she came in with an armload of films. They hit the floor with an enormous racket, and Becky’s hopes of getting out unnoticed evaporated as she bent to help the tech pick up the scattered X-rays, trying to keep her face hidden behind her hair as she did so.

“You lost?” The tech studied her curiously, speaking around a wad of chewing gum. “I don’t think I know you.”

Becky chanced a quick look at John and felt a shock course down her spine as his gaze met hers with a flash of recognition. Her face burned with embarrassment, and she shoved the films she’d picked up back at the tech. “No, I’m not lost,” she muttered. “I was just leaving.” She exited the reading room to illustrate her point.

She didn’t pause in her panicked flight until she was at the end of the hall at the elevator. After pressing the button and saying a silent prayer that she hadn’t attracted as much attention as she was afraid she had, she glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see John following her. The security guard relaxed at his post and everything seemed normal.

Becky heaved a sigh of relief. Of course there was no way John could know she had spent the afternoon staring at his picture, and besides, she hadn’t really done anything wrong. A little research, that was all.

So why did she feel guilty, as if she’d been acting like a lovesick schoolgirl with a crush on the teacher?

* * * *

Just as Becky reached her car, her cellphone rang. The number was unfamiliar, but she answered it as she slid behind the wheel.

A brisk female voice came from the other end. “This is Dee Martin from Emergency Medicine returning your call.”

Becky straightened. “Great. Thanks for calling me back. I wanted to ask you about Dr. John Grant.”

There was silence, then the woman answered in a cautious voice, “What about him?”

Frowning at the peculiar answer, Becky pulled a pen and pad of paper from her purse. “You remember the Best Patient Relations thing, right?”

“Of course. You have a question about it?”

Becky tapped her pen on the pad on her knee. Something about the woman’s manner didn’t quite seem right. It wasn’t just that she wasn’t being friendly. It was the whole attitude, which was almost hostile, definitely defensive. Biting her lip, she framed her next question with care. “I wondered how long Emergency Medicine has recognized doctors for patient relations.”

“Have you read the article?” Dee’s voice sounded impatient.

“Actually, I haven’t had an opportunity. I’m doing some background research for an assignment where I’ll follow Dr. Grant around the hospital for a month and blog about my experiences. The hospital thinks it will be good PR.”

Silence fell again, but this time it was broken by what sounded like a snort of laughter. “And what do you think?”

“I think it’s a bunch of BS.” Becky clapped her hand over her mouth as soon as the words were out.

The other woman laughed out loud this time, and the timbre of her voice changed to one of gentle amusement. “I think you’re absolutely right. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound confrontational. I had some personal experience with Dr. Grant while researching my article about patient relations, and it was a very emotional time for me. I don’t particularly like to relive it. When I wrote the article, though, I mentioned my experience as an example of particularly good patient relations. Not that he doesn’t deserve it, but the Best Patient Relations thing has been taken much more seriously than I had originally intended.”

Becky wondered what kind of “personal experience” the reporter had had with John. Could she have fallen for his charms as so many other women had? Not that it mattered, she reminded herself.

“Was that all I could help you with?”

“Oh, yes, sorry.” She blinked in the fading sunlight shining through her windshield. “Thank you. I’ll read the article.”

“Good idea, and best of luck to you. I’ll be watching for that blog.”

* * * *

John Grant sat at his desk at the end of his shift, going over the charts and paperwork that never seemed to lessen. It was all part of being a department head for a large community hospital, but it sometimes took him two hours past his shift to finish his work.

Of course if he didn’t stop gazing at charts without seeing them, he’d be there much longer than that. He forced himself to focus, initialing only after scrutinizing each order and chart. After fifteen minutes, he got up to check a case in one of the reference books on the shelves lining the opposite wall and found his mind wandering again, straight back to the moment he’d caught sight of Becky in the reading room.

What the hell had she been doing there, anyway? John slammed the book shut. And why did it bug him?

He frowned, wishing for once his office was a little more than the tiny closet it was. He felt cramped and restless. Maybe he’d been working too much, but that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.

Next week likely wouldn’t be pleasant. He didn’t look forward to having a shadow, even an attractive one like the new PR manager. Becky couldn’t be much happier about the assignment than he was. Remembering the way she’d tried to hide when she’d blundered into the tech and the warm flush on her cheeks when her gaze met his, he smiled.

He sat at his desk again, wondering if the opportunity to spend a little time with the attractive new hospital employee would be a bad thing.

* * * *

When Ellen got home, Becky told her about her adventures in the radiology reading room. Ellen spent a good five minutes laughing, then giggling, then finally shaking her head, still snorting. A reporter for the local newspaper, Ellen spent long hours in the office, sometimes not getting home until what Becky’s mother used to call “the wee small hours” of the morning. Ellen knew the mayor and town manager by name and was included in all the social events in town. She was always privy to anything going on and had even been invited to the governor’s mansion twice. To top it all off, she was perfectly beautiful, had an active social life and had been Becky’s best friend since college, so as always, she knew exactly what was wrong with Becky.

“Don’t sweat it, kid. You’re just horny.” Ellen pulled a beer out of the fridge. “It’s perfectly natural, you know. I mean, I can’t believe you stuck with Bradley as long as you did. How long has it been since you had sex? Six months? No wonder you’ve got a crush. Is this guy available? You could do worse than a cute doctor.”

Becky winced, whether at the mention of her former boyfriend, or the thought of not having sex, she didn’t know. “Nine months, and he’s not cute.” She paused, taking a sip of the beer Ellen provided her. “He’s, well, something else entirely. I don’t even get it. He doesn’t look anything at all like Bradley. He’s older for one thing, and Bradley was really much better looking, if you get right down to it. I just don’t understand the attraction.”

“Why not? Now that you finally got rid of Bradley, maybe your subconscious is telling you to be glad of it and get yourself a real man.”

Becky smiled and took another sip. She made it a rule to ignore most of Ellen’s remarks about Bradley. After all, when your boyfriend dumps you, your best friend is supposed to hate him, isn’t she? After giving Ellen a quick hug, she wandered into her bedroom and checked her fax machine.

Adam had finally faxed her the Emergency Medicine article that had started the board’s interest in John Grant, M.D., and Becky read it with interest. The article began with a focus on some pretty straightforward theologies of how involved an emergency room doctor, technician and nurse can and cannot get with patient care. Then Dee Martin switched gears.

While I researched this article, I had an unfortunate opportunity to experience an emergency room firsthand. In April, I visited my sister, Julie, in Asheville, NC, and we went out for drinks. Some male acquaintances of Julie were at the bar we went to, and Julie decided she’d like to go with them to another bar. Tired from my trip, I decided to return home, and Julie gave me the keys to her apartment. Around two o’clock in the morning, the police called. Julie had been raped and beaten. I rushed to the emergency room of Buncombe Community Hospital.

The moment I entered, I was on familiar turf, although it didn’t really reassure me given the circumstances. I could tell immediately I was in an emergency room like many others in the nation. The staff was busy, bustling and ready to get the patients out the door in one form or another. What this emergency room had that no others did was a doctor by the name of John Grant.

Dee went on to describe her panic as she waited to hear about her sister, how she answered questions from the police and finally received word from John that Julie was in surgery, but that she would make a full recovery.

He made no apologies for the delay, but he honestly seemed to regret that it had exacerbated my worry. He took me aside and gave me a full account of my sister’s injuries. I knew he was busy, but he stayed with me, even when I broke down and cried. I realized then what I wanted and what all patients want when they enter an emergency room. What people need from the ER is a caring place to begin recovery, whether they are the patient or someone who cares about the patient. And that’s what Dr. John Grant provided for my sister and me.

After she finished the article, Becky sat thoughtfully for several minutes. Obviously, John’s professionalism could not be questioned, regardless of what the hospital rumor mill might say.

Nevertheless, she spent the rest of the week and most of the weekend in dire dread of Monday. She woke in cold sweats from nightmares in which John chased her and demanded to know what she was doing in the emergency room. The nightmare might not be far from reality. After all, he’d looked right at her. What could she say when he asked her what she’d been doing there? Wouldn’t it be worse if he didn’t ask? What if he just assumed that like so many before her, she hadn’t been able to stay away from him?

Those nightmares didn’t disturb her nearly as much as the other dream she had about John Grant on Saturday night. In that one, she ran from him, but he caught her arm, spinning her around and giving her a sexy smile as he said, “Don’t worry. Everybody likes me.” Then he kissed her, his body pressed against hers, and she thought she might implode from the combined pleasure of his touch and the pressure of his body.

Becky woke, her heart pounding in her chest and a painful longing permeating her body. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and remembered when she was young and woke from a nightmare, her mother would give her a glass of warm milk to soothe her and settle any hunger pains. But this hunger wouldn’t be satisfied with milk. She rolled over, punching her pillow as she tried to get comfortable.