Holiday Magic - The Gift of Love
A two story emotion-packed Christmas anthology
By Laurie Ryan and Lavada Dee
Smashwords Edition
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HEALING LOVE
by Laurie Ryan
CHAPTER ONE
Nicole Milbourne leaned in with a gloved hand to swab the patient’s hive-covered leg for yet another culture. It shouldn’t be this hard to diagnose a simple rash. Red blotches admittedly covered fifty percent of the patient’s legs, so Nicole corrected her assessment. Maybe it wasn’t so simple.
“Ouch.”
The sound startled Nicole and the applicator flew out of her hand, settling with a soft thunk on the floor.
Nicole glanced at the portly woman she’d been assigned to follow up on. The head of the hospital bed was raised and the woman peered over her glasses at Nicole, her arms folded across her chest. With her lips set in a thin line of censure, it didn’t take a body language expert to determine the woman’s mindset.
“I’m sorry,” Nicole said. “I didn’t expect it would hurt.”
“Well, it did,” the woman answered. Her artificially carrot-colored hair didn’t budge as she bobbed her head up and down.
Nicole tried to smile, certain it looked more like a jerky group of still frames end to end than a natural gesture of friendliness. If she couldn’t carry on an ordinary conversation like this with a patient, how was she ever going to survive the residency program?
She reached for another swab kit.
“You’re doing another culture?”
“Yes,” Nicole said, focused on opening the stubborn paper and space-age plastic packet.
“Why?”
“It’s possible we cultured too soon and the infection hadn’t really taken hold, even though the symptoms were manifesting themselves.”
The quiet whoosh of the hospital room door startled Nicole and the swab in her hand went spiraling to the floor. With a sigh, she reached for a third kit, quite certain it was going to be a very long three years.
Glancing up, her heart skipped about ten beats when her worst fears came true and the head resident walked in to the room.
Dr. Damien Reed was a legend in the halls of Rochester Regional. With an impressive scholastic resume’, Kennedy looks, and a smile that could disarm the Middle East, the man was both respected by his peers and ogled by just about every woman in the place.
From a resident’s perspective, that smile meant a thorough textbook grilling generally followed, which explained the pounding heart syndrome she got when she spotted him in the hallways.
Nicole had managed to escape his notice for her entire first week...almost. She clutched the swab kit. Today was day six of her residency.
She offered him a quick, professional nod and prayed he wouldn’t ask her any questions. After taking a long moment scrutinizing her, he turned his charms on his patient. Nicole exhaled relief as she watched him interact with the woman.
“Mrs. O’Malley,” he said with a wide grin as he held her hand between his and dug up some bad Irish charm. “And how are we doing this fine morning?”
As usual, Dr. Reed’s dark hair was unkempt and shaggy. Nicole reached up to touch her own auburn hair, neatly captured in a bun at the nape of her neck, then remembered her gloved hands and dropped them to her side. The man’s hair was reminiscent of a college student, not someone who’d risen to the position that put him in charge of newly indoctrinated medical residents. She tried to ignore jeans that fit too well, yet seemed completely inappropriate for someone with his status. This was Rochester Regional Medical Center, after all. There were protocols to be observed.
She studied him as he spoke with the patient and the conversation faded to gray. Even inappropriate, the hairstyle worked for him, framing a strong face, green eyes, and an effortless smile. No one appeared immune to his easy charm, least of all Mrs. O’Malley.
With the personality of a politician, everything seemed easy for Dr. Damien Reed. Not so for herself. A part of her envied him those skills.
Nicole yanked open another swab kit, surprised when it came apart in one pull and almost went flying again. When Dr. Reed’s steady hands grasped hers as well as the kit, she chalked the slight quake in her arms up to first week nerves. If he held on longer than necessary, Nicole decided it had been to keep the swab from falling to the floor.
Nicole mumbled a thank you as Dr. Reed held out the swab for her to take.
“Anytime.” Even the man’s voice was designed for effect. The single word rolled off his tongue like warm honey. She could understand why patients sought him out. He made everything seem better with a simple word.
As Mrs. O’Malley ran down her list of complaints to Dr. Reed, Nicole, with extreme care this time, swabbed the rash, and then pulled the blanket back over the patient’s leg.
“Thank you, dear. That was much better,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “She was a bit rough on the first try,” the patient explained to Dr. Reed, sending Nicole’s already pink complexion into overdrive, if the warmth of her face was any indication. The man had the power to toss her out of the program with little or no reason, but he simply patted Mrs. O’Malley’s hand and turned to Nicole.
For a moment, he held her gaze. When Nicole realized her lips were parted, she clamped them shut. Irritation replaced nerves when she watched his eyebrow lift in response.
“How are we on bringing this rash of Mrs. O’Malley’s under control?”
Nicole took a deep breath. She would not be escaping his infamous grilling today, it appeared. Taking a moment, she reminded herself that this was where she excelled. She knew her diseases and what needed to be done to diagnose them. No one in the residency program would best her at diagnostic medicine. It was her strong point, as she’d proven over and over again in school.
Granted, Mrs. O’Malley’s rash was being stubborn. The unexplained low grade fever was also an issue. But Nicole was certain she would determine the reason.
“We’ve done a blood work-up. Blood chemistry has all come back normal. As well, the first culture did not turn up a viable reason for the breakout. At this point, I’ve ruled out viral causes and am in the process of ruling out bacterial infections.”
“It sounds like you’ve been very thorough, Doctor.”
Nicole beamed. “Diagnosis has been elusive so far, but I feel confident we’ll find the cause and get the patient back on track medically.”
Mrs. O’Malley drank some of the water she’d picked up shortly after Dr. Reed entered the room.
“Thirsty?” he asked the patient.
She looked at the cup in her hand as if surprised. “It’s strange. I never used to like water. Now I find myself sipping at it all day long.”
Nicole frowned. What did that have to do with a rash?
Damien turned back to her. “Have you tested her blood sugar?”
Diabetes? He thought Mrs. O’Malley had diabetes? Nicole ran through the tests she’d ordered and the heat in her cheeks increased to inferno level. She wanted to crawl under the hospital bed and never come back out. No, she’d never tested the patient’s blood sugar.
The medical encyclopedia in her head opened up to the page that dealt with complications of uncontrolled diabetes. Life threatening ones like coma and cellulitis were followed by lesser known symptoms. An unexplained rash was listed right there.
How could she have forgotten?
It took a real effort on her part to keep her hands from covering reddened cheeks. Oh, God, her first week here and she’d already screwed up. She shook her head. Well, there was nothing to do but own up to the colossal mistake she’d just made.
She glanced at her patient, who thankfully was busy watching Dr. Reed. “No, Doctor. I did not order a blood sugar. I’ll be sure and order it stat.”
“I think we’ll have you fixed up in no time,” he said to Mrs. O’Malley, patting her hand. What looked like a genuine smile on his face never wavered despite the fact he must be annoyed at the rookie mistake she’d just made. Even mortified as she was, she had to respect his ability to keep his emotions so well hidden.
“Can I speak to you outside, Dr. Milbourne?”
CHAPTER TWO
With her feet weighted by dread of the confrontation ahead of her, Nicole tried to hold her head high as she followed her boss out the door, certain she was about to be canned from the program.
Damien Reed put both hands in the pocket of his jeans and leaned back against the wall. The longer he stared across the corridor, the more Nicole began to sweat. This couldn’t be good.
Well, better to confess up front than to wait and have it thrown in your face. “I’m sorry, Dr. Reed. I—I don’t know why the possibility of a systemic disease like diabetes slipped my mind. I know better.”
He closed his eyes. The look on his face was reminiscent of someone who’d just tasted heaven...or really great chocolate. When he opened them, she caught a quick flare of emotion before it disappeared behind his smile.
“Relax,” he said. “Even if I thought you should be booted out of the program, I don’t have the authority.”
“Maybe not,” she conceded. “But you have the ear of those who do.”
He chuckled. “You’ve got me there.” He pushed off the wall. “Walk with me.”
She looked at the kit in her hand. “I really should get this to the lab.”
Dr. Reed took it from her, pulled a pen from his pocket and, using the wall, wrote the patient’s name and room number on it. Next, he waylaid a nurse. “Would you deliver this to the lab for me?”
“Certainly, Doctor.” the nurse said. Twice his age, the woman glowed at the attention. Nicole rolled her eyes. The man had that affect on, well, just about everyone.
“Thank you,” Nicole said to the nurse as she disappeared without any indication she’d heard Nicole’s gratitude.
They walked in silence until he turned into a waiting room with nothing in it but a few chairs and neutral colors. Sitting, he motioned for her to take a chair across from him.
Here comes the boom. Nicole glanced at the picture above Dr. Reed’s head. Did the sky over that sailboat indicate a storm was coming? Maybe. She settled her hands in her lap and waited.
“Why did you choose medicine for a career?”
The question came out of left field and Nicole felt her heart fill with the familiar ache of long ago memory. She clamped a lid on the pain and sat back, crossing her arms. “I don’t see how that has any relevance to today.”
“Humor me,” he said. He leaned forward to rest elbows on knees, fingers laced together. “I’d like to understand your motivation.”
“I have an interest in research,” she finally answered. “Oncology research.”
“That’s on your resume. What I want to know is why?”
Nicole stared at green eyes that held both gentle question and firm resolve. She wasn’t going to get out of answering. Over his head, the clouds in the picture seemed to darken. She didn’t want to have this conversation, but he waited without moving until she finally answered.
“My mother passed away when I was ten years old.”
“Cancer?”
She gave a quick nod. “Ovarian.”
He cocked his head. “I’m sorry.”
Nicole tried to shrug. She willed her shoulders to rise and show her indifference. Willed her head to remember that it had happened a long time ago. Willed her heart to stop thumping a painful reminder.
She should answer him. He was waiting, watching. After all these years, she still didn’t know how to respond to that phrase. ‘I’m sorry.’ What the hell did that mean, anyhow? As she searched eyes filled with the patience of a man comfortable with silent pauses, she wanted, for the first time, to answer. “’I’m sorry’ is such a strange phrase, don’t you think? I’m not even sure I know what it means.”
One dimple appeared. “It means something different for everyone. For me, it’s all about what you went through, the pain you feel.”
“Thank you.” The unfamiliar sting of tears made her blink and her fingernails dug into her hands as she tried to regain some control. “I’m sure, Doctor, that you didn’t call me in here for a therapy session.”
He studied her for a long moment before making some sort of decision. “No. I didn’t. But it is nice to know you’re capable of showing some emotion.”
She straightened. “I beg your pardon?”
He held up a hand. “Don’t get your bristles standing at attention. I meant no insult.”
“Is there some point to this discussion, Doctor Reed? Am I in trouble?”
“For missing a lab test during your first week here? No. That’s what I’m here to help catch. What I would like to offer you is some advice.”
Relief threatened what little control she had over her emotions. She wasn’t getting fired? Some part of her brain recognized the word “advice” but she couldn’t get past the echo in her ears. She still had a job.
“—see the patient.”
He was speaking. The man who’d just given her future back to her was speaking. She needed to listen. “Excuse me?”
“I said,” he repeated as he stood. “Take time to get to know the patient. Don’t just look at the body, or the symptom. Talk to the patient. Much of the time, the answers can be found in a simple conversation.”
She stood and scuffed the carpet with her shoe. “That’s the hardest thing for me,” she admitted.
He smiled again and Nicole found herself drawn to the warmth. “It will get easier. Trust me. In the meantime, remind yourself to ask questions and listen to what they say. It’s generally the best place to start when trying to diagnose an issue.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“I don’t stand on formalities with my team. Please, call me Damien.”
She shook her head. “You’re my superior. And you’ve earned the title of doctor.”
“So have you, Nicole.”
“I know the diploma says that, but I don’t believe it. Not yet.”
“Trust me, in this program, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to recognize how much you’ve earned the title.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got other residents to check on. But I’ll be watching...your progress with interest.”
After he left, Nicole sank back down in the chair. The emotional upheaval of the last few minutes had wiped her out. She felt like she’d just finished a twenty-four hour shift. According to the clock, she still had eight of her twelve hours to go and, when the patient load ran heavy like today, shifts ran long. She’d learned that her first couple days in the program. Certain it was going to be a very long day and an even longer residency, Nicole headed back to work.
With a blood glucose meter in hand, she returned to Mrs. O’Malley’s room. Taking Dr. Reed’s advice, she spent some time talking to her patient. Listened would be more accurate, since the woman seemed to enjoy an audience and, given the opening, warmed to any subject.
That conversation told her, even before she tested Mrs. O’Malley, that her patient was diabetic. All the symptoms were there, and had been for some time. Her high blood sugar only confirmed it. It also explained why the rash was not improving. Nicole wrote up orders for further testing to confirm the diagnosis on paper, as well as insulin to bring her blood sugars down and regular blood sugar monitoring. She explained the diagnosis to the patient and rose to leave.
When Mrs. O’Malley began to fret, Nicole’s instinct to run came back full force. Panic felt like a noose around her neck. Comforting patients was not something they taught in med school. She patted her patient’s arm, trying Dr. Reed’s technique, but the movement felt jerky and trite.
Plus, it didn’t help. Mrs. O’Malley had started to sniffle and Nicole felt the noose tighten. She struggled to shrug it off and considered their conversation. The woman lived alone. She had a son, but he lived an hour away.
“You know,” she said. “You won’t go through this alone.”
“But I don’t have anyone to help me,” she said, dotting at her eyes with a tissue from the box Nicole handed her.
“You’ve got a hospital full of people to help. You’ll be well regulated on insulin before you leave here. You’ll be taught how to take care of yourself, both with your insulin and your diet.”
The worried frown on Mrs. O’Malley’s face didn’t budge much. In fact, the lines in her forehead deepened a fraction.
“Diet? You mean, I have to change the way I eat?” She latched onto Nicole’s hand. “Does that mean no more lunches with my Red Hat Society? You do know what that is, don’t you, dear? It’s a wonderful group of women and oh, they are so dear to me. Do I really have to refrain from lunches? Oh, how will I ever learn all this?”
“It’s all right, Mrs. O’Malley,” Nicole said as she tried to extricate her hand from the woman’s grip. “You’ll still be able to eat with your friends. You will have to be a bit careful about the menu choices you select, but diabetes is a very functional disease.”
Instead of being reassured, Mrs. O’Malley’s grip tightened until it bordered on painful. “Oh, my. That’s right. Diabetes is a disease. I have a disease. Me, who’s been healthy all her life. How will I ever explain this to my son? And to my friends?”
Nicole took a deep breath and dug deep for the words that would reassure her patient. “Diabetes is very common, Mrs. O’Malley. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out a few of your society friends had diabetes.”
The woman paused and loosened her grip enough for Nicole to free her hand.
“Do you think so?”
“I know so.” Nicole tried not to smile as Mrs. O’Malley smoothed her blanket, the picture of calmness now.
“And—” Nicole said. “We will have Home Health nurses come and visit you after your discharge until you’re comfortable with everything. As well, I’m sure your son will involve himself as much as he’s able to.”
That did the trick. The last lines on Mrs. O’Malley’s face relaxed.
Then, to Nicole’s horror, tears started to trickle down her patient’s cheek. Lord, what had she said now?
“Thank you,” Mrs. O’Malley said. “Thank you so much.”
Nicole nodded, the lump in her throat a wall her voice couldn’t break through. She backed toward the door.
“You know, dear,” Mrs. O’Malley continued. “I think you’re going to be a fine doctor.”
* * * * *
On her way home that night Nicole pulled her collar tight against an unseasonable September chill and reflected on the lesson learned today. A few minutes of conversation had not only helped with diagnosis, it had also completely mollified an agitated patient.
Spending time in a one-on-one conversation hadn’t been easy, though. A shyness that bordered on painful had plagued Nicole for years. That was a significant part of why research appealed to her. She’d been first in her class in both undergraduate and graduate schools, but she knew her people skills were lacking. She also knew that today she had learned a very important lesson about being a doctor. And that it would be the hardest personal limitation for her to overcome.
Dr. Reed had gone easy on her. She was certain of it, even though she didn’t understand why. She smiled at the memory of her name spoken in the rich timber of his voice, then forced the thought to the back of her mind. It wouldn’t do to start fantasizing over the hunky head resident. She had too much to accomplish before she could even think about any sort of relationship. She chuckled, knowing that it was silly to even consider the possibility. No way would the inimitable Dr. Reed be interested in her.
Inside her apartment, Nicole dropped her bag and coat over a threadbare, but comfy-enough-to-fall-asleep-studying-on couch and walked the few feet to her tiny kitchen.
Small by just about anyone’s standards, Nicole’s apartment was a haven to her. After promising the landlord she would return the walls to the non-descript ivory most rentals required, Nicole had painted the kitchen a pale tangerine color that made her smile each time she walked into the room.
She started water heating for tea she hoped would revive her enough to do some research tonight. As tired as she was, she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she determined how she had missed that diagnosis of diabetes today.
She would not make that kind of mistake again. The unwavering green eyes of Damien Reed came to mind and she wondered whom she was working so hard to impress.
CHAPTER THREE
“Good morning, Ms. Grant. I’m Dr. Reed.”
Nicole side-stepped into the emergency room alcove as Dr. Reed greeted the patient. He may have said that initial mistake of hers meant nothing, but his actions over the past two months told a different tale. It felt like he’d materialized around each and every corner she turned, always pinning her with questions and firing away with another one almost before she finished answering the last.
That he’d selected her as his pet project was pretty much a given. Because of that, life had bordered on a living hell, with twelve to twenty-hour shifts followed by several hours of studying. Tea had been relegated to the back of her kitchen cupboard as coffee became her new best friend.
Nicole wasn’t sure how much more of his attention she could take. And if the man asked her one more time what the patient had to say, she was going to scream. He’d sent her back into hospital rooms to talk time and time again.
Yep. Dr. Reed had it out for her. She shook her head, knowing that wasn’t entirely accurate. He’d offered some very insightful comments and suggestions during their debates. The man was a gifted diagnostician on top of being good with people.
At odd times, she’d turn and find him staring at her, his face a strange study of intensity. It was as if he had more to say, yet wouldn’t. Or couldn’t. Damien Reed was a mystery. One which, at the moment, she didn’t have the time or the energy to figure out.
From her spot near the privacy curtain, Nicole observed the petite woman who was the focal point of her orientation to her E.R. rotation. With a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and translucent skin, Nicole placed her age at close to her own twenty-eight years. She squinted. Very close, as a matter of fact. The woman looked familiar. Her hair color was similar to Nicole’s, although the woman’s ran a bit more to the red than her own darker curls.
“Amanda?”
Dr. Reed and the patient both turned to her.
“Nikki? Nikki Milbourne?”
Damien Reed’s eyebrows raised up and Nicole’s cheeks warmed with color. “I go by Nicole now.”
“Wow,” Amanda said. “What’s it been? Ten years?”
“Easily,” Nicole answered. Since Damien stood there with quiet expectancy, she turned to him. “Mandy and I were roommates our first year in college.”
“Those were good times,” Amanda said, smiling.
Nicole remembered. Loaded down with studies, she’d begged off almost all of Amanda’s invitations to go out and have a little fun. Almost. She glanced at Dr. Reed and found him watching her with undisguised amusement. Great. All she needed was for him to think she was some sort of party animal.
“Good times and a lot of work,” Nicole said in an attempt to dispel any wrong impressions. “You left, what? Mid-Winter quarter, right? I never heard from you after that.”
“Yeah. Sorry about that. My Mom got sick, so I went home to take care of her.”
“She must have been pretty sick.”
“She was. Breast cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. We caught it too late. After a couple years of surgeries and chemotherapy, the cancer won.”
Nicole gripped Amanda’s hand. “I know what that’s like.”
Amanda nodded, her voice turning wistful. “Anyhow, after all that, college didn’t seem so important anymore. I was working already, so I never bothered to go back.” She smiled, the sparkle returning to her eyes. “But all that time you spent with your head buried in books paid off. You’re a doctor, huh? Good for you.”
“Thank you. I’m doing my residency here at Rochester Regional.” She glanced at Dr. Reed, who watched her with a bemused concentration she couldn’t categorize. One thing she did know. It was past time to get back on track. “Our relationship means I can’t be your physician,” She told Amanda. She indicated Dr. Reed with her hand. “I’m confident Dr. Reed will take good care of you. And I’ll stop by later to see how you’re doing.”
She turned to go, but Amanda held tight to her hand. “Please, stay.” She worried her lower lip. “As my friend?”
Nicole hesitated, turning to Dr. Reed. He gave a quick nod of assent, so she moved around to the other side of the bed and stood silent as he began the process of diagnosing Amanda’s pain. With his deep, mellow voice and quiet interest, he drew the information out.
Amanda Grant answered with confidence, even with the edge of worry Nicole could hear in her voice. She’d come to the emergency room with lower abdominal pain, primarily on the left side.
“How long have you had this pain, Ms. Grant?”
“Amanda will do just fine. Ms. Grant sounds like my career-minded maiden aunt.” She smiled at Nicole. “No insult intended.”
Nicole tucked her head as she stifled a grin.
“As for pain,” Amanda said. “This time, it’s been a day or so.”
Nicole’s head came up. “You’ve had this pain before?”
Dr. Reed glanced at her.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she mumbled.
“A few times,” Amanda answered. “It’s been strange, kind of comes and goes.” She grimaced. “Like now.”
Dr. Reed continued. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain at the moment?”
“About a five or six.” The grunt as she finished the sentence validated her pain level. It took a few moments before she could continue. “It’s been getting harder to ignore these last couple of months. I know I should have gone to my doctor, but work has been so crazy.” She frowned and her hands settled across her abdomen. “This time, it’s stronger than ever.” She glanced at Nicole. “And it doesn’t seem to be going away.”
“What does the pain feel like?”
“It’s like a deep ache. And low, off to the left.”
Nicole felt a trickle of sweat begin to work its way down her spine as she fought to stay objective. Amanda’s pain seemed localized, but it could still be one of many issues. It could be an inflammation in the colon, or kidney stones, or any number of things.
Or it could be ovarian pain. The thought sliced through her like a scalpel.
“Have you noticed any other issues?”
“Well, I’ve been more tired lately. That could be because I’m not eating all that well. Food just hasn’t tasted that good.”
Mental fingers in Nicole’s brain went back to ticking off the illnesses that could account for these symptoms.
“I feel like I’m bloated. Then, yesterday I started to wonder if I had a bladder infection.”
Hands curling into tight fists, Nicole fought for every ounce of strength she had to keep from backing up as dread tightened around her spinal column. She knew these symptoms. She turned wide eyes to Dr. Reed. At the imperceptible shake of his head, she forced her fingers to straighten and her hands to relax. She tried to focus on what Damien was saying but worry filled her ears with cotton.
Once he’d completed the physical examination and found tenderness in more than one spot, he turned to Nicole.
“What tests would you order, Doctor?”
Amanda grinned. “He’s quizzing you, right?”
Nicole started to answer, but felt like she was chewing sand. Taking a moment to clear her throat, she recited a litany of tests she’d studied well over the course of her post-graduate studies.
“I’d order standard blood tests to check for an infection, as well as a—” Her voice broke and Amanda Grant’s dimple disappeared.
“Sorry,” Nicole muttered as another bead of sweat wound its way down her back. “Frog in my throat. I’d also order a...a CA-125, and a trans-vaginal ultrasound.”
Dr. Reed nodded. “I concur.” He turned to the patient. “We probably can’t get some of these tests until tomorrow. I suggest we keep you in the hospital overnight.”
“Oh, but I’ve got a meeting tomorrow that I have to be at.”
Cancel it! Nicole wanted to scream the words, but she kept her lips tightly compressed.
“Can you bump it?” The casual warmth of Dr. Reed’s tone was in direct opposition to the bile rising in Nicole’s throat.
“Keeping you here means we’ll get results faster,” he said. “As well, we can do more to alleviate your pain in a hospital setting. Your pain was enough to bring you here, so it might be a good idea to give us some time to get it under control for you.”
Back to worrying her lip, Amanda nodded her agreement.
Once out of the room, Nicole felt tears well up that were beyond her control. She started to shake. Is it getting hot in here? She tugged at the neckline of her shirt.
“I...need...some...air,” she gasped.
Dr. Reed took her by the elbow and steered her out the emergency room doors, grabbing a blanket off the supply rack as he went by. Outside, he didn’t stop until Nicole smelled the stale lingering scent of cigarettes. They were in the smoking shack? Thankfully, it was empty at the moment.
Nicole plopped into a chair. She knew Amanda Grant’s symptoms and in fact, had studied them in depth. She gulped air in and felt a hand urge her head down between her legs as a blanket settled around her.
“Breathe, Nicole.” His low tone soothed her, but not enough. She struggled to sit up.
Damien Reed wouldn’t let her. Instead his hand moved across her back. The up and down motion, along with the sound of his voice saying words she’d didn’t understand, eventually calmed her.
After several long moments, he allowed her up and snugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Feeling better?”
“No.” She shook her head. Curls that had escaped her bun settle around her face. “I mean yes, but no.” She reached for his arm. “I know those symptoms. I know them because of my mother.”
“It’s too soon to know for sure.”
“Everything adds up. All her symptoms point to an ovarian problem.”
“Even if they do, it could be as simple as cystic ovaries. As a physician, you know better than to draw a conclusion before testing.”
Nicole shot out of the chair and glared at him, the blanket falling to the cement. “Yes, I do. Except that I’ve studied this disease in depth. I know—”
His hand rose and, for a moment, Nicole thought he intended to touch her cheek. Then he dropped it to his side. “Don’t make assumptions, Nicole. Wait for confirmation.”
“I can’t.” The words came out on the end of a sob as she whirled on him. “Did you know what was wrong before you drew me in there?” She choked on the words. “Did you set me up for some sort of shock therapy?”
“I knew no more than you did. I think you know I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“It doesn’t look good, does it?” Nicole whispered the words, afraid saying them out loud would make it real.
Damien picked up the blanket and settled it once again around her shoulders. “We won’t know for sure until the tests come back.”
He sank to a chair and massaged his temples. He was as affected by this as she was. She knew it, but overriding that realization was an almost paralyzing return to the day her mother had explained her own cancer.
Memories Nicole had struggled to bury for years resurfaced. She sat back down, tucking her hands underneath her. Too keyed up to remain that way, she hugged herself. Her breath frosted in the late November air and the ground sparkled with cold crystals. She didn’t feel the chill. She was too overwhelmed by memories.
Damien’s voice filtered through. “This isn’t your mother, Nicole. It sounds tough, but you’re going to see this situation a lot.”
“I know that,” she said. The words sounded hollow and far away.
His hand reached over to move a strand of hair out of her eyes. He stared at her hair as it curled around his fingers for a long moment before he pulled away. “This will sound harsh, but you need to decide if you can handle it.”
Nicole jumped up and started to pace. “No.” She shook her head, and then reached to pin her hair back into its usual bun. “I don’t have to handle it. Or get used to it. I refuse to. This shouldn’t have to happen. Not to her, not to my mother, not to anyone.” She pounded her fists against her thighs. “That’s why I’ve selected oncology research. So that the Amanda Grants of the world don’t have to hear what you’re most likely going to have to tell her in a couple days.”
Damn it. She was so angry her body shook. And now she could feel the spilled tears on her face. Dr. Reed joined her. He tipped her head up and one thumb brushed at a wayward tear.
Nicole stared into eyes that showed compassion...and something else. She watched little lines deepen at the corners of those eyes as he smiled.
“I believe you will do just that, Nikki.”
Damien Reed surprised the hell out of her then as he pulled her into his arms. Only for a brief moment, then he released her and turned away, his deep intake of breath surprising her.
Nicole felt bereft. She wanted to stay in those warm, comforting arms. To be soothed by them. By him.
“Dr. Reed?” A nurse rounded the corner.
He stepped in front of Nicole, giving her time to get her tears under control.
“Yes?”
“We’ll need orders to admit the patient in room six. And we’ve got victims en route from a multi-car accident. Dr. Jones asked if you could stay and help with triage.”
Most people would miss the slump to his shoulders. Nicole noticed it, as well as the quick recovery. He wasn’t untouched by the plight of the patients he treated. She wiped the last remaining dampness from her face. How much time would it take to develop a professional shell like his? Too long. She’d be well ensconced in a research facility long before she could grow the same hardened facade.
“Tell Dr. Jones I’ll be right there,” Dr. Reed said.
Once the nurse was gone, he turned back to Nicole. “I know patients like this are going to affect you.”
“They affect you, too, don’t they?”
He nodded. “They do. But I’ve had a little more time to figure out how to process it all.”
“I can’t imagine it ever being easy.”
“Not easy, just easier to compartmentalize. You’ll need to find a way to steel yourself no matter what the patient’s issue is.”
She sighed, knowing he was right.
He settled a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll help you,” he said. He took a few steps toward the E.R. doors and then turned back. “Get yourself together and join me for triage.” His voice deepened. “And please, call me Damien.”
She shook her head.
“I insist,” he said with a grin as he disappeared.
Unable to get Amanda Grant off her mind, Nicole stopped in later that day. She found Amanda chewing away on her lower lip. “What’s up?”
“Either this hospital works fast or you’ve got some pull around here, Doctor. The nurse just told me I’m going for that ultrasound test you ordered. They’ll be here any minute.”
Nicole chuckled. “Hospital time runs about the same as football time. It could be an hour or more.” Hearing a commotion behind her, Nicole rolled her eyes. “They’re here now, aren’t they? Proving me wrong?”
Amanda leaned onto one elbow to see who or what was behind Nicole. With eyes no longer showing any trepidation, she nodded, a wide grin on her face.
A sense of satisfaction turned a bad day good for Nicole. She’d made Amanda forget, at least for a moment. On impulse, she offered to go with her to the test and Amanda’s acceptance was quiet but heartfelt. When the procedure got a little uncomfortable and Amanda reached for her hand, Nicole tried to steel herself from the emotional double whammy. She cared about Amanda Grant. Add to that the realization that her mother had endured this same testing, and Nicole failed to find any sort of guard rail for her heart. Empathy wrapped its arms tightly around her and she couldn’t honestly tell who was holding on tighter, she or Amanda.
CHAPTER FOUR
At home that evening, Nicole took the salad she’d thrown together over to the table and sat down. It had been a long day and she was, once again, bone tired. With a sigh she looked at the pile of case histories she needed to review.
She picked at her lettuce, but wasn’t hungry. Amanda Grant’s situation overshadowed everything. Nicole was not well-versed in ultrasound images. At the moment, she was grateful for that lack of knowledge. She didn’t want Amanda to see her recognize the worst case scenario. Hell, she didn’t want Amanda to hear that scenario from her or anyone else.
She’d re-read the same paragraph three times when her phone rang.
“Hi, Nikki.”
“Dad!” Her father must be psychic. How else did he manage to call every time she needed a shoulder? “I’m glad you called.” She tried to keep the quaver out of her voice.
“I thought I’d call and see how my best girl is doing. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Everything’s fine,” she said.
“It doesn’t sound like it. This is Dad you’re talking to. Come on. Fess up.”
He could always see through her attempts at being tough. “It’s just been a long day.”
“Long how?”
She sighed. He wasn’t going to let her off the hook. She knew that. “I started my E.R. rotation today.”
“You were looking forward to that, weren’t you?”
“I was.”
“Hmmmm. And now something has you not so enthused?”
“I had a tough patient to start out with.”
“Tough how?”
Between hospital privacy laws and her knowledge that mentioning her mother would bother him, Nicole was unsure what to say.
“I let a patient get to me,” she answered.
“Get to you? Get to you how? Did someone attack you, Nicole? Are you all right? Do I need to come out there?”
She laughed. Leave it to her father to misinterpret. The man’s tendency to leap without thought was legendary. He’d explained one time how this issue, not an absence of love, had caused the demise of his marriage to her mother. “She wanted a security I wasn’t able to give her,” he’d said.
Nicole knew her step-mother had managed to settle him down, and just in time, too, since her mother’s death had led to a whirlwind courtship and wedding. Kate had taken over raising her and had done a good job. As good as she could.
Never able to have children herself, Kate had immersed their household in a revolving door of foster children. So much so that Nicole had always felt a bit like an outcast in her own home. She wasn’t chosen. She’d come with her father as part of the package.
“Nicole? Are you all right?”
“Yes, Dad. Stop worrying. I didn’t get attacked.”
“Then what...” His voice, tinny through the phone, still made Nicole feel he was here in the room with her.
“I had a patient with some familiar, um, symptoms.”
She could almost hear her father digesting the statement, searching for the positive spin. And then, unable to find it, coming to the right conclusion.
“Symptoms like what happened with your mother?”
“Yes.” She whispered the word, wondering if she should knock on wood so as to not jinx Amanda Grant. She felt, deep inside, that no amount of woodwork could help her friend.
“And that hit you smack in the heart, didn’t it?”
She pulled her feet up onto the kitchen chair, hugging her knees close enough to lay her cheek on, certain she could hear her heart pounding. “Yes.”
She waited. Her father could always find the optimist’s point of view. He could cheer her up when no one else could and he’d come through now, she was certain of it. He’d always come through in those clutch times. Which was why his next statement caught her so off guard.
“Honey, I know losing your Mom was tough. If this is too hard for you, maybe you should give it up. Come home and find a different line of work.”
She jumped to her feet. “No. Absolutely not. I want to be a doctor. I have to. I have to find a cure.”
“How are you going to get through this residency program? You’re already mired in the same emotional empathy I saw in you as such a young child when your mother was sick.” He sighed. “I know you. I know how hard you’ve guarded your heart since then. Almost to the point where you don’t show emotions, period. If this patient is bringing all those feelings to the surface, what will the next patient do? I hate to say it, but this is going to happen again and again and again. You know that.”
“Yes, I do know. It’s funny that you say I guard my emotions. Damien says I need to toughen my skin. That it doesn’t get easier, but it gets easier to deal with emotionally.”
“Who’s Damien?”
“Oh, sorry. I meant to say Dr. Reed.”
“Isn’t he that lead resident you’ve been complaining about since you started this program? How he’s been picking on you and making you work harder than anyone else?”
“Yes. That’s him.”
“I see,” her father said. “So, when did you get on a first name basis with someone who, up to this point, has seemed more like your nemesis?”
Nicole’s mouth dropped open as she realized her mistake. “He’s, umm, still driving me hard.” She tried to keep her tone neutral, in complete opposition to her flaming cheeks.
The laughter on the other end of the line indicated she hadn’t pulled it off. Damn. “I didn’t mean to call him Damien. And I don’t. Not at work.”
“You see him outside of work?”
“Never! He just...he asked me to call him Damien, all right?”
“Oh, really.” He drew the word out in a way that teetered on very dangerous, very match-makerlike, territory. “This is starting to sound serious.”
Nicole’s mind churned as she tried to find a way out of this conversation. Her father, a man to whom everything was funny, would not let this go. She gave it one last futile attempt.
“It’s not like that. It’s nothing but a working relationship. Even that will only last a few months. He’s finishing up his final year of residency. That’s why he’s the lead.”
“So he’ll only be your boss a few more months, huh?”
Nicole could hear the laughter in his voice. “Drop it, Dad. I’m telling you, it’s not like that. Not. At. All.” Nicole suppressed the twinge of pain her words caused. Dr. Reed was the head of her team and nothing more. Really.
Then why do I keep remembering how good it felt to be in his arms?
“You know how much your mother and I would like you to find someone to share your life with,” her father said.
Lord, could this conversation get any worse? “I know. But not right now. I need to focus on getting through this residency and settled into my research. There’s plenty of time to meet someone after that. So, how’s Kate doing?”
This time, he let her off the hook. “Oh, fine.”
“Your tone doesn’t sound fine to me.”
“She’s a little lost right now. No kids in the house, you know?”
Nicole chuckled. “Kate’s always been happiest when she’s chasing after children.”
“Yes, she has. You know, she’s your mother, too. It would be nice if you called her by that title.”
Nicole straightened. They’d had this conversation before. “Has she said something?”
“No. And she never will,” her father said.
Nicole felt the weight of her father’s request once again settle on her shoulders. Her mother had died when she was ten years old. No one could replace her. “I’m sorry. I just...can’t.”
Her father was so quiet that she said his name again to make sure he was still there.
“I’m here. And I understand, even if I’m disappointed. Kate is actually the reason for my call. I think we need a change of pace.”
Nicole frowned and looked outside her window. Even in the dark she could see light flakes signaling the season’s first snow fall. “What kind of change?”
“Well, Kate’s been sort of at loose ends. With no children in the house, and you on the other side of the country, I considered this might be a good opportunity for us to take a vacation. You know, get away from Seattle for a bit?”
Nicole sat up. “You’re coming to visit? That would be great!” She looked around her tiny apartment and wondered how she’d fit them in, and then realized it didn’t matter. They’d find room.
“Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of finding some warmer weather. I’ve booked us on a Caribbean cruise.”
Somewhat deflated, Nicole got up and tossed her salad in the trash. “A cruise sounds like fun.”
“I think it will be. I’m telling her about it tonight.”
“I’m sure she’ll love it.”
“Here’s the thing, Babydoll. We leave on Christmas Eve.”
“Christmas Eve?” Her mind whirled. “But...I always come home for Christmas.”
“I know. And I know how important that is to you. I think you know it’s important to us, too.”
Nicole’s eyes stung with the effort to hold her emotions in check. Her chest felt like the weight of the world had just landed on top of it. Christmas was the one thing in her life that had never changed. Her mother had loved it. Her father and Kate had recognized that and made a big deal of the holiday.
“Here’s the thing. Kate hasn’t just been at loose ends. I’m worried she’s depressed. She just sits all day and waits for the phone to ring...for another child to put her arms around. I think a change of pace might break her out of that melancholy.”
She could very well believe that Kate was struggling. She knew what the kids meant to her. But to cancel Christmas? “I-I guess I understand.”
“I knew you would. Thanks, honey. I know if I can get her to take the first step, she’ll love the vacation.”
Leaning against the counter, Nicole took a deep breath. “I’m sure she will. And I know the trip will be good for both of you.”
“I think so, too. Now all I have to do is convince your mother.”
“Good luck with that. I don’t remember the last time you two went anywhere alone together.”
“It’s been a few years.”
“Well, let me know how it goes when you tell her, okay?”
“I will. Thanks. I know this won’t be the Christmas you’re used to. But, you know, change can also mean opportunity. Maybe something will come up that will be even better than spending the holidays with us.”
Nicole shook her head so hard curls hit her in the cheek. “Nothing beats Christmas at home.”
“We’ll see. In the meantime, you won’t get away from us completely. We’ll try to find a way to call you on Christmas Day. And I’m sure Kate will be mailing you a package.”
Nicole hung up the phone, and then sat back down at the table. After several minutes of staring at blurry words, she gave up and headed for the couch and some mindless reality show on television.
Christmas. Her favorite day of the entire year. Her mother had loved the season and decorated their house from top to bottom each year, even when she’d been so sick with cancer she could barely stand. She’d also always made sure Nicole’s father shared in the celebration, something very few divorced couples could work out.
After...after her mother passed away, Kate had worked hard to make sure Christmas continued to be a special day for Nicole and for all of them.
Nicole had already spent Thanksgiving in the hospital cafeteria. With this change to Christmas, her entire holiday season was in an upheaval. This would be a first for her, not spending the holidays at home. And Nicole couldn’t quite get past the worry that Christmas, for her, was forever changed.
CHAPTER FIVE
Nicole wandered through hospital halls she probably knew better than her own apartment. She’d lost interest in the cheerful holiday decorations that adorned dull white walls and gleaming countertops, surrendering to the blurred dullness of too many long shifts. Another one of which she had just finished.
If she could make it to the intern’s lounge without any more emergencies cropping up, Nicole could claim a few precious hours of sleep. She’d need them to get through her next twenty-hour rotation. Going home to her apartment was not an option due to time constraints and the December snowstorm that had dumped a foot of snow in the Rochester area.
Bone-tired now had meaning for her. It was all she could do to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
“Ooomph!”
The stillness of night shift was broken by her collision with Brenda, one of the nurses.
“Sorry,” Nicole said.
Nicole had shared some late night conversations with the nurse during rare quiet times. Primed for pre-med, Brenda had happily let pregnancy derail her. Nurturing was in her blood and the woman was good at it. Brenda eyed her now like a parent checking her child for injuries. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Nicole said, hearing the weariness in her voice. “Just tired.”
“Forgive me for saying this, but you look a little like death warmed over. You need some sleep, Doctor.”
Nicole’s head came up. Even after three months as a resident, she still wasn’t used to the title of doctor. “I’m headed for sleep now.” She glanced at her watch. Only five hours to her next rotation. “I hope I get enough to get through tomorrow. After that, I get an entire fourteen hours off.” A weak smile was the only enthusiasm she could muster.
Brenda’s smile showed her sympathy. “Get some sleep while you can,” she said. She started to walk away, but turned back. “Hey, have you seen Dr. Reed?”
“Uh, not recently.” Thank goodness. How could just the idea of Damien Reed make her feel so hyper-sensitive? It was like her skin remembered his touch. Nicole rubbed her arms as she asked Brenda why she needed Dr. Reed.
“His migraine patient is pretty miserable. I wondered if we could increase her pain meds.”
Trying to shake the fuzz from her brain, Nicole asked Brenda if there was anything she could do to help the patient.
“No, no. I’ll page Dr. Reed. You,” she said, wagging a finger at Nicole, “get some sleep while you can.”
Nicole tossed a grateful wave in the air and dragged herself down the hall to the break room, praying it would be empty. No more conversations. She needed sleep.
The lights were low in the lounge, but she could see empty couches and she offered a quick prayer of thanks. Grabbing a pillow and blanket off the pile pilfered from various linen carts, she took a grateful step toward one of the couches.
The scrape of a chair turned her in the opposite direction, where the illumination from a small desk lamp verified she wasn’t, in fact, alone.
Dr. Damien Reed sat hunched over a book. Nicole craned her neck to see what he was reading. It looked like a medical manual. He didn’t even twitch an ear at her arrival which was unusual.
Over the past few weeks, he’d been everywhere. Each time she turned a corner, ordered a lab test, or evaluated a new patient, he was either involved or nearby. That presence should have calmed her. Instead, she found it difficult to focus. She learned firsthand that his reputation for patient advocacy was fairly earned. Even more than that, he cared about his patients. She respected him for that. And told herself for the hundredth time that is was his professionalism she was drawn to.