Safe In The Surgeon's Arms. Molly EvansЧитать онлайн книгу.
guards.
Chase approached and put his face as close to the drunk as was tolerable given the fumes emanating off him. Fortunately, it was a no-smoking hospital or they could have gone up in flames. “I believe you’re the reason she’s in the ER in the first place, are you not?”
Pause. “Yes.”
“Did you drive here?” Chase asked.
“If it’s any of your business, yes.” He tried to spit at Chase, who moved deftly out of range.
“Fellows, let the police know to add impaired driving to the list.”
“Got it.” They hauled the man out of the ER to await the police.
“Are you okay? Really?” Despite himself, Chase moved toward Emily, concerned that the threat might trigger memories of her assault again, the way they were starting to in him. No matter what he felt for her now, he didn’t want to see her hurt by anyone. This time he’d been able to help out, even though it had been a small effort.
“Nah, I’m good. I have new ninja reflexes. He didn’t even get close.” Demonstrating her technique, she jumped around in front of him looking quite like a ninja in scrubs.
She gave that grin again and his heart now seemed to have no immunity against it. “I see.” He cleared his throat and clamped down his anxiety for her safety.
That reflex hadn’t gone away just because they weren’t a couple anymore. Of course, he probably would have reacted the same no matter what staff member had been involved in the kerfuffle. At least, that was what he told himself.
Turning away from the scene, Emily rolled her shoulders a few times then picked up her clipboard. “Okay. Dr. Montgomery, can you see this patient now?”
“Uh, sure.” He stepped closer, more comfortable with the doctor-nurse role. “Is this the wife?”
“Yes. Superficially, she looks roughed up a bit, nothing serious, other than needing to get away from her husband.” Emily shook her head. “Can’t say I blame her.”
“You think he beat her up?” Anger flashed hot and fast inside him. Women and children were precious, and were to be protected, not used as punching bags by drunken men who couldn’t control their tempers.
“She won’t cop to it, says she tripped, fell into a door. It’s mostly the face. Black eye on the right, swollen shut, cheek bruised and swollen. Not sure if it’s fractured, but it won’t hurt to have an X-ray of it.”
He followed her without comment to the patient room and when Emily held the curtain back, Chase’s stomach clenched. The image of the woman before him sickened him. She was in her midforties. Her face was so swollen she looked as if she had been in a car accident and it instantly reminded him of the night he’d seen Emily in a similar condition. Trying to remain in that professional space, he took a quick breath and stepped close to the gurney. Emily was right. He didn’t even need the X-rays to know she’d been beaten up. In their line of work they’d become unfortunate experts on the topic.
“Mrs. Billings? I’m Dr. Montgomery. Nurse Hoover has made some recommendations for your treatment, and I’m inclined to agree with her.” He trusted her nursing experience, if nothing else.
“Like what?” She turned a defeated gaze to him. The sound of her voice was slow and thick. She’d probably bitten her tongue during the assault.
“Facial X-rays, possibly a CAT scan of your head to look for fractures in the sinuses and the left side of your face.” He moved closer, and she jumped. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” More carefully, he approached her and focused on keeping everything slow, his voice soft. She’d obviously been conditioned to watch out for any sudden movements her husband made.
“Go ahead.” She closed her eyes, as if trying to shut out the world. “I don’t care.”
“Are you in pain?”
She nodded and tears began to overflow. “Don’t be nice to me, Doc. I can’t take it.” She sniffed. “I don’t know what it’s like.”
“Then I’ll try harder to be mean,” he said, and received a crooked smile.
“Thanks.”
He looked at Emily, who looked pale and a little wide-eyed. “I’ll get right on those orders, Doctor.” Then she turned back to the patient and the moment was gone, if it had been there at all. Maybe he’d only imagined the haunted look on her face as she’d watched her patient.
Avoiding Chase and the look on his face was her goal. Seeing this woman had brought back memories for both of them that neither of them cared to have. Caring for this woman was her job, and she would do it well, but making eye contact with Chase would be her undoing. She had to avoid it. Like her patient, she couldn’t deal with his compassion for her pain. What she needed to do was keep busy and focused on her work. The rest would eventually go away. It always did. Situations like this brought everything back to slam her right in the gut when she wasn’t looking.
Trying to stop the trembling in her hands, she prepared the lab tubes and labeled them appropriately, but her mind was elsewhere.
Night, being alone in the dark, was the toughest. Night was when the shadows darkened in her mind and the whispers of her attacker infiltrated her barriers. Bitch. I’m gonna get you, bitch. Sometimes all it took was hearing that word bitch to send her all the way back to that dark awful night.
She applied the tourniquet to Mrs. Billings’s arm and inserted the needle into the vein. Emily swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in her mouth. She filled each tube the way she was supposed to and applied a small dressing to the tiny puncture site of the left arm. Focused. Clinical.
Emily placed the tubes filled with blood for testing into a zippered lab bag for transport. After setting them in the lab pick-up rack, she realized her heart hadn’t settled down and the tightness in her chest hadn’t eased. Was it Chase? Was it the husband? Was it this patient? Maybe all of it combined in such a short time worked together to rob her of her strength.
Making her way to the supply room, she checked to make sure she was alone then removed her lab coat, placed a towel on the floor, sat cross-legged on it and closed her eyes.
There was a place she liked to go mentally when stressed and it was a place from her past where she’d been happy, walking alone on the sand at Virginia Beach, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin, the salt on the breeze and the coarse sand on her feet.
This was the place where she let go of stress, released it to the ocean waves and found some peace.
Until Chase walked into the supply room.
“What are you doing?” He stopped short just inside the doorway.
Startled, she opened her eyes. The serenity that had been on her face vanished and it was his fault. Dammit. She’d looked so peaceful for a second, and he’d ruined it.
“I was meditating.” She blinked a few times, as if coming back to herself from wherever she had been.
“Now? In the middle of the shift?”
“Yes. I’m entitled to breaks. Several, in fact, over the course of twelve hours. What I do with them is my business.” Closing her eyes again, she tried to ignore him, but it was impossible.
“Yes, that’s true.” He squatted down beside her, too close for her senses. “You never used to meditate.” Obvious irritation showed in the frown between her delicate eyebrows and the downward turn of her mouth. Not that he blamed her.
“I never used to do a lot of things.” She looked up at him, held his gaze, almost challenging him. “I’ve acquired some new skills.”
“Like your new ninja reflexes? Are you taking karate or something?” He’d never seen her move so fast. That had impressed him.
“Not karate.