Her Undercover Defender. Debra & Regan Webb & BlackЧитать онлайн книгу.
he’d dropped out of college became tangled with a little more anger every day. The police were certain he’d just gone off on his own, but if that was true, why hadn’t he contacted her?
They’d been close as kids, through school and sports, right up to the day of her pinning ceremony when she graduated from the nursing program four years ago. Trey and their parents had been on their way to the auditorium eager to celebrate her success. A dump truck swerved into their lane and hit them head-on. Her parents died at the scene, and her brother had been plunged into the fight of his life.
His extensive injuries had ended his plans to play college baseball. Several surgeries, months of physical therapy and hours of grief counseling had finally put him back together. Or so she’d thought as he eventually changed his career goals and applied to college.
She couldn’t reconcile Trey’s effort and determination to attend school in Arizona with him willingly leaving it all behind scarcely a month after arriving there. If the police in Flagstaff sympathized with her, it didn’t motivate them to make his disappearance a priority.
Thanksgiving had come and gone without a word from her brother, and Christmas was closing in. If he was alive and well—and she had to believe that—he would make contact. He had to know she would be worried about him, that she’d need some reassurance especially during the holidays. She trembled as another terrible image of him injured or worse filled her mind.
“Honey, are you okay?” Suzette asked, waving her hand in front of Terri’s face.
“I’m great.” Terri pasted a bright smile on her face. “Just waiting for the second cup of coffee to kick in.”
“Right.” Suzette stretched out the single word. “Still no word from him?”
As her best friend, Suzette was one of the few people who knew the whole situation about Trey. Suzette had helped her sort out the insurance, funeral arrangements and expenses after the accident. She’d listened to the doctors’ reports and helped her make the decisions Trey would have to live with. Suzette had sat by Trey’s bedside, taking over when Terri had been too sleep deprived to continue.
“No,” Terri admitted. “You’ll be happy to know I’m counting by the week now rather than the day or hour.”
“I suppose that’s progress,” Suzette said. “If you need to vent, you know I’ll listen.”
Terri took a deep breath and looped her stethoscope around her neck. “I’m grateful, believe me, but I can’t tell you how nice it is to have other people to think about for the next eight to ten hours.”
Suzette’s smile turned edgy. “Promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“When he comes home—and I believe he will—I get first crack at whipping his butt.”
A smile, the first genuine one in a while, tugged at the corners of Terri’s mouth. “Right after me.”
“Just as long as I get to watch,” Suzette declared.
As Suzette started for the elevator, Terri promised to call her later and then headed for room 412. Her first order of business on every shift was to introduce herself to her patients. In orthopedics, the majority of their patients were simply here for observation after surgery. The post-op process was more about managing pain and mobility than anything else. And fear, she thought, easing open the door of 412, temporary home to the young and frightened Brittney Markwald. The girl’s mother had pulled a chair close to the bed and was reading from a thick book.
Terri smiled, recognizing the popular story, but as soon as Brittney saw her, she stared to cry. Terri stopped and tucked her hands into her pockets. “Good morning. I’m Terri, your nurse for today.” She focused on the mother. “Mrs. Markwald, I’ve reviewed the chart and everything looks great. The doctor should be in to see you before noon.”
“Will he send us home?”
“I can’t give you a definite answer on that, but as soon as I know something, you will, too.” She looked at Brittney but didn’t come any closer to the bed. “How’re you doing with the crutches today?”
“She’s getting better,” Mrs. Markwald replied when Brittney only sniffled. “We just got back from the bathroom.”
“Great,” Terri said to the mother. “Your doctor will be happy to hear that.” She took care of the things that needed her attention, giving Brittney plenty of space.
“How’s the pain level?” Terri asked from the foot of the bed.
The girl’s lower lip quivered as she shrugged.
Terri had to find a way to crack through the child’s fear. “Can I check the ice in your friend there?” She pointed to the small cooler that circulated ice water through a cuff to keep swelling to a minimum.
The girl shook her head, refusing to make eye contact. Suzette might be onto something with this one.
“I just refilled it,” Mrs. Markwald explained with a weary smile. “My husband had one a few months back after a knee surgery.”
“So you’re a pro.” Terri beamed. “Thanks so much. Be sure to press the button if you need me. I’ll pop in later to take your vitals.”
Sniffles from the bed accompanied the mother’s thank-you as Terri left the room. Phobic patients like Brittney weren’t unusual on this floor, but Terri never stopped trying to make a hospital stay as pleasant as possible for everyone. Stress didn’t help the healing process.
After introducing herself to her other patients, she caught one of the nursing techs on the floor for help moving a few things around in the lounge. It was a long shot, but she’d made it her mission for the shift to get at least one smile out of Brittney before her doctor sent her home. If nothing else, it might make life easier for a nurse in Brittney’s future.
Terri returned to 412, this time waiting until Mrs. Markwald reached a stopping point in the story. “Breakfast is coming around,” she explained. “You can have it in here or you can really impress the doctors.”
After a moment of visible skepticism, Brittney asked, “How?”
Contact at last, Terri thought with an inner cheer. “You’re doing well enough that you can eat down in the lounge. There’s a video game kart racing challenge and we post high scores on the wall.”
“You mean I don’t have to stay in here?”
Terri nodded. “You can stay in the room if you like. But if you want to go to the lounge, I can have physical therapy meet you there, too.”
Brittney’s momentary excitement faded. “I don’t want more people messing with me.”
“Well, that’s understandable, but you don’t get to go home until they know you can manage the crutches.”
Brittney aimed another sullen expression at her mother.
“It’s a lot more fun, I promise,” Terri added. “Unless you’re tired.”
“I’m not tired,” Brittney declared. “I want to go.”
Brittney cooperated as Terri and her mother helped her get settled in front of one of the lounge gaming stations. When she was engrossed with outfitting her racer, Terri pulled the mother aside. “You can go down to the cafeteria for breakfast and coffee,” she suggested. “I double-checked with the surgeon’s office. He won’t be up for another hour at least.”
“What if—”
“Your daughter will be fine with us. If the surgeon’s schedule changes, I’ll call you.”
The mother’s eyes brightened with relief. “Thank you,” she said, slipping out of her daughter’s sight. “She’s not usually such a handful. They did their best last night, but...”
“She’s