Safe In The Surgeon's Arms

“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. If I had used karate I’d have taken out his knee first, but you got in front of me.”

“Judo?” He really didn’t know about martial arts and had just exhausted his knowledge.

“Hardly. In judo, I would have—”

“Whatever. Clearly, you’re an expert now.” And he’d had no clue.

“No. Just determined.” There was an aura of steel about her now. And, yes, determination showed in her eyes. That was the difference he’d been sensing in her.

“To what?” He really wanted to know the answer to that. Genuine curiosity had been roused in him and for the first time today he could set aside the pain.

Without answering the question, she unfolded her legs and stood. “Did you come in here for something or just to annoy me?”

“I saw you come in here and after the day’s events I thought you looked a little off.” That was okay. Looking after a coworker?

“Off? No. I’m fine.” Turning away from him, she began to scan the shelves as if looking for something. “Gauze, suture materials, IV supplies over here. Good to know.” She took a step to the next shelving unit. “GI supplies over here—oh, look, enemas. Never know when you need to get rid of some—”

“Stop it. You’re not fine. If you’re meditating in the middle of a shift, that must mean you’re upset about something. Possibly nearly getting assaulted not long ago?” He let the question hang in the air between them.

She gave him a glare then kept scanning. “Maybe we need to order extra-large enemas for special cases.” The glare she leveled on him left no doubt as to who she would use them on.

“Emily.” Chase intended to make her face him, make her turn around, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Then squealed like a girl and nearly dropped to his knees in pain. “Augh!”

“Don’t touch me, Chase.” Again, her speed defied logic. He had been unprepared for her ability to take his wrist in her hand, apply pressure and leverage to the point of pain, yet she hadn’t batted an eyelid. In fact, she looked calmer than she had since he’d entered the room. The control in her eyes impressed him and maybe scared him a little.

“Okay, okay, okay. Let go. Let go. Ow. Ow. I have to do surgery with that hand.” She released him and the relief was great.

“Unless you want to have both hands in casts, don’t ever try to touch me again.” The calm, serious look on her face was something he never wanted to see aimed at him again, as if she were contemplating squishing an insect.

He shook his hand, grateful she hadn’t really wanted to hurt him or it could have gotten ugly. Baffled, he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time, and maybe he was. Giving her a little space, he took a step back. “Where’d you learn all that stuff?” That was the change in her body he hadn’t been able to identify before. She was muscular and toned in a way that wasn’t from a weekly aerobics class. Yowza, she was strong.

Now she faced him fully, the brunt of her anger unleashed on him. “‘Stuff’? Seriously?” Though half a foot shorter than he, the power of her was unbelievable and gloriously arousing. “That ‘stuff’ saved my life more than once. That ‘stuff’, as you call it—” she tossed her head “—has kept me sane for the last three years, and that ‘stuff’ allows me sleep at night.”

She nearly trembled with rage, and he could see it unfold within her. Her blue eyes sparkled, her face was flushed and pink, her chest rose and fell quickly. She was beautiful, and he did not want to see it, to feel anything for her, to be the recipient of her rage. But he couldn’t help himself. He stood there in awe for a few seconds before he could speak.

“Are you okay?” His voice was a hoarse whisper that he barely recognized as his own. “Seriously?”

Then Emily blinked a few times, shook herself and let out a long, slow breath. “I’m fine. The meditation helped and now I’m ready to go out there and see if my lab results are back yet.”

She tried to move past him, but he placed his hand on her arm. She stopped, looked at his hand then up at his face, calm and cool. Hastily, Chase extricated his hand.

“If you wish to continue to do surgery without having it yourself, I suggest you don’t lay a hand on me again. Ever.”

“Sorry.” Point made.

“I’ll let you know about the labs as soon as they’re back.”

“O … kay.” Reaching out, he opened the door and watched Emily walk away.

CHAPTER FOUR

TREMBLING SUBSIDING, Emily returned to the nurses’ station and logged onto the computer, pulled up the lab results, reviewed them and clicked the print key. She would have to return to Chase, Dr. Montgomery, as she needed to remember to notify him of these results. The woman had obvious issues with her husband, but she had deeper problems, too, and it showed clearly in her lab results.

“Dammit, I don’t want to talk to him anymore today,” she grumbled aloud.

“And who would that be?” Liz asked, and plopped down in a chair beside her.

“Oh!” She whirled. “I thought I was by myself.”

“In this place? Never.” She patted Emily on the arm. “Now, tell me how you are and who you don’t want to talk to. I came to check on you after the incident, but you disappeared for a while.”

“Yeah. I was taking a few deep breaths in the supply room.” No harm in admitting that, regardless of what Chase thought. “A little decompression.”

“I see. Good.” Liz nodded. “And the rest?”

With a sigh and a downward turn of her mouth Emily leaned back in the chair. “I’ve got labs to review with Dr. Montgomery, but I don’t want to talk to him right now.”

“Why not?” Liz held out her hand, and Emily gave the lab reports to her. She took a few seconds to scan the numbers, automatically interpreting. “Everything looks good.”

“Next page. Hematology.”

“Oh, I see. Anemia and indications of infection. You’re wondering if she has an underlying pathology you’ll have to discuss with him.”

“Yes.” Thankfully, Liz understood. Maybe she would talk to Chase.

“I don’t understand, though. Did he say or do something to you that upset you? He seemed impressed with how you handled the drunk husband.”

“Really?” Now, that surprised her. He’d never been impressed about anything she’d ever done. Or at least he’d never admitted it.

“Yes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was concerned for you. But then he turned around and was the same old Chase.”

“Same old Chase? What do you mean?” Despite her resolve, she was curious. After all, three years had passed since they’d seen one another and although her brother was good friends with him, he’d respected her boundaries and not mentioned Chase. Maybe she could surreptitiously get some information on Chase and it would satisfy the curiosity that had been plaguing her for the last year. Was he the same as she’d remembered?

“He’s a regular guy—fun, friendly—but when it’s time to be serious, he is.”

Emily gaped. “Chase? Fun? Since when? He was never fun.” She clamped her mouth shut and a knowing light entered Liz’s eyes. “He was serious most of the time. Work came before everything else.”

“I thought there was something serious between you two. You didn’t just date a few times, did you?”

Keeping secrets was apparently not her forté, and she shouldn’t look forward to a career in the international espionage field. Damn. Maybe Liz could keep a secret.

“It was a long time ago.” But was it really?

“Not that it’s any business of mine, but it doesn’t seem like business is over between you two. If the air needs to be cleared for you to work together, then I’d suggest having a chat with him.” She sighed. “I’d suggest it to anyone who was having a difficult working relationship. If needed, there’s always mediation.”

“Mediation? No. We were done three years ago. And it was a bitter breakup.”

“I’m sorry, Emily. It’s none of my business, like I said, but if you ever need to talk, I can listen and it won’t go anywhere.” She had the calm eyes and demeanor of a true leader.

“Thanks, but I just need to pull myself together and be an adult about it.” She’d put her big-girl panties on a long time ago. They just needed a little straightening now and then.

“Okay. The offer stands.” She handed the papers back to Emily. “And I think Chase should see those right away.” She nodded over Emily’s shoulder.

“I should see what?” Face serious, he moved closer. The cologne he wore hadn’t changed and it caught her by surprise. She’d loved that on him. Then.

“Labs here indicate some infection and something going on with her hematology.” She shrugged, looked away and placed the printout on the counter in front of him so there was no accidental touching of skin to skin.

Without touching the papers, he leaned over and read them, nodding and focusing on the numbers in front of him, then turned his attention to her. “So what do you think we should do?”

“Me? You’re the doctor. You should examine her and then decide, but it appears she’s losing blood somewhere.” She stiffened at being put on the spot. “Although she didn’t complain of any abdominal pain, and we were more concerned about her head trauma, it’s possible she took a few hits to the abdomen and either her spleen or liver is leaking.”

Just then the alarms in Mrs. Billings’s room began to chime in earnest. Emily looked at the monitor beside her at the station displaying the vital signs in bold green numbers.

“What?”

“BP taking a nosedive and pulse shot up.” She looked with concern at Chase and met his gaze full on. “She’s in trouble.”

They all raced into the room just in time to see the patient’s eyes roll back in her head, and she lost consciousness. “Dammit,” Chase cursed, and he rarely did that in front of a patient, no matter what the circumstance. “Call a code.”

Emily hit the specially designed button on the wall behind the patient’s head while Liz ran for the crash cart, the large tool chest on wheels housing lifesaving equipment.

People began arriving in droves to assist with the code. Thankfully, in a code situation no one was ever alone. Chase was in charge and ran the operation, but Emily was next in command and delegated tasks to other staff members if she wasn’t able to perform them herself.

“Let’s give her some fluids, wide open,” Chase instructed, “then epinephrine IV push.” He kept his gaze on the monitor, watching everything the heart did.

Emily didn’t have to call for it as Liz had it prepared in a few seconds and handed it to her. Pulling the cap off, she connected the needleless system and pushed the medicine in as quickly as possible. The patient’s heart rate suddenly paused, then dropped dramatically.

Chase whipped off the stethoscope from around his neck and listened to the patient’s abdomen, and then used his hands to palpate it.

“How’s her belly?”

“Rigid. Think you’re right, Nurse Hoover. She’s got a cracked liver and is bleeding into her abdomen. Call OR and tell them we’re on the way up now. No time to wait. I’ll have to operate, but call the surgical team for backup.”

“Now I wish I’d hit him,” she muttered beneath her breath, and jerked the receiver off the wall.

“What?”

“Nothing. Got it.” She dialed and informed the OR of the situation of an emergency patient coming their way.

Staff scrambled to get her to the OR. Emily trotted along next to the stretcher as the crew moved down the hall to the OR, which was on the same floor but through a maze of hallways and double doors.

“There’s something wrong in your abdomen, Jenny, so Dr. Montgomery is going to operate on you.” She stroked the woman’s hair. Sweat had popped out on her face and neck. Emily knew it was from shock and the compensating mechanisms her body was engaging in. The heart raced to make up for in rate what it lacked in output, due to low blood volume.

And then Mrs. Billings was gone. Emily handed her over to the pre-op nurses. Watching through the slight opening in the doors, she watched Chase approach the stainless-steel sinks, pull on a hair cover, mask, and begin to scrub. He wore the green, sterile scrubs required in the OR and was ready to roll.

Back in the day she’d used to love watching him scrub, knowing he was entering a world all his own in surgery, knowing he was going to drag a patient back from the edge of death.

Back then he’d been her superhero. Saving everyone and everything.

Only he’d failed her when she’d needed him the most. Nothing in life had ever disappointed her more. Time had helped her realize he was just a man and no cape could turn him into what she’d needed. But right now that man was going to bust his butt trying to save this woman. If nothing else, she had to respect him for that.

The remainder of the day passed with much less fuss than the first part of it. A few coughs, colds and possible flu filtered in, but her mind was never far from thoughts of Chase and the work he was doing on their patient.

At the end of shift Emily gave in to mental and physical exhaustion, allowing it to wash over her as she exited the building out into the staff parking lot. Fortunately, it wasn’t a long walk.

This was the kind of situation that could lead to an assault on a woman who was not prepared the way Emily was now. Women left their jobs after long hours, eager to get home, their senses and muscles weakened by their work, not paying attention to the immediate surroundings. And alone. That was a sure setup for an attack.

Now Emily was different and more prepared than she’d ever been. Though exhausted, her senses, her self-protective instincts she’d honed over the years surged within her, brewing just under the surface, reaching out into the night, as if sentient. Sounds came to her from the twilight. The abrasive whirring of a cicada attracted her attention to the tops of the trees. Crickets trilled from the grass along the edge of the parking lot. A flock of pigeons overhead swooped past in search of a roosting place for the night. A lone seagull hung on an updraft long enough to decide whether she was edible or not.

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