Episode 20:
Lost and Found
Justin Timberlake woke up to a pitch-black room. He glanced at the alarm clock next to the bed and groaned. It was only 5:02 AM, and his alarm was set for 6:00 AM. He tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t. In all honesty, Justin was both nervous and excited. It was a new year, meaning that he would now be assigned to a new doctor. Not that he hated working with Dr. Parker – she was great. He just was dead sure that she hated him.
“Although, I haven’t been that great of a student myself,” he admitted to himself.
Justin stared at the darkness for a moment, reflecting on all the mistakes he had made in the past semester. Looking back at the clock, Justin decided that he might as well get up and make himself something to eat. After all, he didn’t want to be late, like he had been last semester. He stretched his arms and looked back at his bed, where Britney was sleeping.
She looks so peaceful when she sleeps, he thought. After giving Britney one last look, Justin walked out of the room and quietly closed the door.
+++
Elizabeth O'Brien gave the apartment one final glance: everything was neat, in perfect order. She nodded, satisfied. It was the way she preferred things.
Stepping around her small suitcase, she reached in the closet for her coat. For a split second, she wondered why it seemed so empty. Then her jaw clenched.
“It's for the best,” she said, pushing back the threatening twinge of pain. “Now we're both free to find real happiness.” Grabbing her coat, she ignored the sudden waft of cologne that drifted past. Kevin's favorite... but why did her coat smell of it? He must have hugged her at some point, the fragrance transferring to the wool. She drew the garment closer to her face, inhaling deeply.
A second later, she pulled back. Angry at herself for her emotionality, she donned the coat and fastened it with fervor. After placing her suitcases out in the hallway, she turned and locked the apartment.
As soon as this conference is over, she thought to herself, I'm getting this coat dry-cleaned. It wouldn't do to have unnecessary reminders of that which was firmly in the past.
+++
Kevin finished going through his email and turned off his computer. With the week's schedule in hand, he left his office and walked down the hallway. He was so engrossed in what he was reading he made the turn into the lounge without conscious thought.
“Want a cup?”
Startled, he looked up from the papers and blinked. “Oh, Hayley... hi. Um, sure, I could use a boost.”
The redhead nodded and reached for Kevin's mug from the wall hook. “Rough night?” she asked.
“Didn't sleep very well,” he said elusively. “I'll take that with-”
“Two sugars, one creamer,” Hayley finished. “I know. I've been fixing you coffee for years now.”
He smiled. “I guess you have,” he said, taking the offered cup gratefully. “Thanks.”
“So wanna tell me what's been on your mind lately?”
He quickly raised the coffee to his lips and took a long sip.
“Delay tactics won't help,” she said, smiling. “Spill.”
“Hay...”
“Come on, we're alone here, you can talk. It's been obvious that you've been out of sorts. What's up? Or is it really none of my business?”
Knowing his long-time friend would find out eventually, he sighed. Nodding at the small table, he sat down; she joined him a moment later.
“Elizabeth and I broke up,” he said, shoulders slumping.
Hayley's eyes grew wide. “What? When did this happen?”
“Christmas,” he said.
“But didn't you go to the New Year's Eve gala at the Carlton?”
He toyed with the rim of his cup. “It was a last ditch effort. One final try.”
“Which obviously didn't work,” she said, voice full of sympathy. “I thought you two were happy.”
“I was,” he said, then paused. “She wasn't.”
“Oh, Kev,” Hayley said, taking his hand. He returned her squeeze and gave her a wry smile.
“It's strange,” he said. “Getting used to being alone. I haven't been single for two years.”
“Trust me,” she replied, “you haven't missed much.” She drank from her cup. “So where are you staying?”
He grimaced. “The Cavalier Apartments.”
“What! That's a total dive! You're a doctor, surely you can afford-”
“It's only temporary,” he quickly reassured her. “And it was the only place I could find on really short notice.”
“It's not in the best part of town,” she said. “I bet our residents wouldn't even live there.”
He gave her a grin. “Well, the paper thin walls make for interesting entertainment,” he said, leaning back. “And most of my stuff is safely locked away in storage. Besides, it's kind of nostalgic; reminds me of my salad days.”
She rolled her eyes. “You could always crash at my place,” she offered. “I can guarantee there's not nightly cockroach races there.”
“I appreciate it,” he said, “but I only have thirteen days left there. I can make do; I have a place at the Addison lined up.”
“Now, that's more like it,” she said. “Wow, it'll really be going from rags to riches. From filth to fab. From awful to awesome. From-”
“Hayley...”
“-prison to penthouse,” she continued, eyes sparkling.
Kevin laughed at her teasing expression. “All right, all right... enough.” He drained the last of his coffee and smiled at her. “You always know how to make me laugh,” he said. “Thanks.”
“Any time,” she said, standing up. “But seriously, we'll have to go have dinner or something soon. And definitely not at your place, until you move.”
“Deal,” he said.
“Oh,” she said as she reached the doorway, “don’t forget. Today you get your new shadow.”
“Shadow?”
“Med student.”
Kevin groaned as he remembered. “Cartwright? Carson?...”
“Carter,” she corrected. “Have fun!”
“Right,” he said, gathering his papers and steeling himself for the day.
+++
It was 6:50 AM when Justin arrived at the hospital, a full ten minutes early for his first day on his new rotation. He was assigned to Dr. Amory Cannon in surgery. Being in the ER his first semester, Justin didn’t really know Dr. Cannon too well, which he was partly glad for. He didn’t want Dr. Cannon to judge him based on his mistakes in the ER.
Walking towards the surgery ward, Justin suddenly saw Isabel napping on a chair in the waiting room.
“Hey… Isabel… wake up,” he said, shaking her shoulder. Isabel moved a bit, and then looked straight at Justin.
“Justin?? What time is it?” she asked, looking for a nearby clock.
“Relax… it’s only 6:52 AM. Did you spend the night here so you won’t be late?” he asked. Though they weren’t really close to each other, Justin and Isabel were friends. Isabel had helped him throughout med school, and they had chatted a few times this past semester.
“Nah… I couldn’t sleep last night. I’m excited, you know?” Justin nodded his head. “And if I slept here, at least I wouldn’t be late like you were last semester…” Justin groaned as Isabel giggled.
“Ha ha… not funny. Am I ever gonna live that down?” Justin ran his fingers in his hair, remembering the disaster his first day last semester had been.
“Nope! Anyways, where are you assigned?”
“I’m in surgery with Dr. Cannon. You?”
“Cardiology with Dr. Chung. By the way, what time is it now?”
Justin looked at his watch. “6:55, which means I have five minutes to check in and find Dr. Cannon. Good luck in cardiology!”
“Thanks! And good luck to you in surgery!”
Justin gave one last smile and walked upstairs to the surgery ward. Finally, he was having a good day at the hospital.
+++
Isabel was flustered as she set off for the cardiology ward. She thought she’d been smart, spending the night at the hospital to make absolutely sure she was there on time for her first shift of her new rotation. But her plan had almost backfired; somehow, she’d slept through the alarm she thought she had set, and if Justin hadn’t woken her up…
She shuddered at the thought of being late; it made her break out in a cold sweat. What a horrible first impression to make.
As she waited anxiously for the elevator, she reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out her cell phone. She had promised Nick she would give him a wake-up call to make sure he didn’t oversleep; she hoped to God he had gotten up on his own. He was starting his surgical rotation today, and if he was late, Dr. Brunson would surely know. She was, after all, the Head of Surgery.
As the phone began to ring in her ear, she checked her watch; only four minutes now. Where was the elevator??
Starting to feel panicked now, Isabel gave up and darted into the stairwell, jogging up the steps as fast as she could, her phone still pressed tightly to the side of her head.
“’Lo?” she heard Nick’s voice answer finally, through a crackle of static.
“Nick!” she shouted. “Please tell me you’re here!”
“At – ‘spital? Ye- -‘ere.”
Isabel blinked; he was cutting out badly. “Sorry, I’m in the stairwell! You’re here??” she asked breathlessly, just as she reached the fourth floor landing. Thank God, she thought, sighing with relief as she opened the door marked Cardiology.
Nick’s voice came back in, “Yeah, I just got off the elevator. Listen, I gotta go find Dr. Richardson. Catch ya later?”
Now the elevator comes! Isabel thought in exasperation. She must have just missed it – and him.
“Yeah,” she sighed, feeling relieved again at the knowledge that he had made it on time. “Good luck; I’ll see you later!”
Before he could even respond, she hurriedly snapped the phone shut, knowing she shouldn’t be caught using her cell phone in the middle of a hospital, on the cardiology floor, nonetheless. She shut off the phone and dropped it into her bag as she strode towards the nurses station in the center of the ward, walking with much more confidence than she felt.
Clearing her throat, she stepped up to the counter. “Hi, I’m Isabel Rivera, third-year med student. I’m starting my cardiology rotation with Dr. Chung today.”
A curly-haired, blonde nurse whose nametag said Maggie smiled and replied, “Well, you’re in luck. Here comes Dr. Chung now.”
She pointed, and Isabel turned to see her mentor doctor walking towards her. She had seen Dr. Shannon Chung in the ER for consults on the cardiology patients, but they had never been formerly introduced.
“Dr. Chung?” she asked, holding out her hand to the other woman, who appeared to be in her early thirties. “I’m your new student, Isabel Rivera.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Rivera,” said Dr. Chung with a professional smile and firm handshake. Though she was slightly shorter than Isabel – a difficult feat, as Isabel was only five-foot-three herself – Dr. Chung had a manner about her that was slightly intimidating.
She was very smart; Isabel made that observation in less than five seconds. Of course, she had to be smart to be a cardiology resident, but everything about her, from her appearance to her mannerisms, conveyed intelligence. Her almond eyes were sharp, and while one was dark brown, almost black, the other was surprisingly blue.
Isabel blinked, caught off-guard by this peculiarity, and forced herself to respond, “It’s nice to meet you too. I’m really excited to be working with you this semester.”
Dr. Chung nodded. “And I’m glad to teach you. I hope you will learn a great plenty here in the Cardio ward.”
Isabel smiled, looking around. “Oh, I’m sure I will.”
+++
Kevin glanced at his watch as he saw the tall blond emerge from the elevator. Right on time... a good start, anyway. Lord, but they get younger every year...
“Dr. Richardson?” the newcomer asked tentatively. “I'm Nick, Nick Carter.”
He nodded. They had met before; Carter had been Brian’s student. And not a bad one at that, if he remembered last semester’s conversations with his cousin correctly. That was a relief, though it was still a pain to have to be responsible for a med student, on top of all the other stresses of his job.
“Mr. Carter,” he said, holding out a hand. He was rewarded with a surprisingly firm handshake. “Looking forward to your surgical rotation?”
“Yes, sir,” the blond said, perhaps a bit eagerly.
Kevin smiled, remembering his own early days. “Well, let me show you around the floor while things are quiet. I have no surgeries scheduled today because there’s supposed to be a big ice storm heading our way – they cancelled all the electives, so we'll have to take what comes in from the ER.”
The younger man lost a good deal of his nervousness as Kevin familiarized him with the various areas of the surgical wing. When quizzed on various aspects of surgical prep procedure, Nick seemed to know his stuff... another plus. The pair ended up in the lounge.
“Normally I'd be in my office, doing paperwork or reading over case files and surgical journals,” he explained. “But it's kind of small for two, so we'll just stay here.”
“Sounds good,” the student said. “It's kind of strange, all this quiet.”
“I imagine after doing your ER rotation, it would be,” Kevin said. “But believe me, things can get pretty chaotic up here. You'll learn to appreciate the quiet times when they come.”
He settled at a table, spreading his paperwork across the surface. When Nick moved towards the bookshelves that lined one wall of the lounge, he suggested a well-used anatomy book to help pass the time. Once the student was settled, Kevin turned to his own work.
Nearly an hour and a half later, he put his paperwork in a neat stack, grateful it was finally finished. Glancing out the window, he saw that the predicted winter storm had already begun. Unfortunately, that meant an upswing in activity in both the ER and surgery. People never learned.
He knew Nick was restless and, no doubt, bored. One of Nick's friends, a young man whose name eluded him, came into the lounge, semi-complaining about the lack of action. Secretly, Kevin agreed.
Their rescue came from Holli Brunson, surprisingly enough. In her usual brusque way, she announced an incoming surgical case and did an impromptu interrogation on two somewhat startled med students. Kevin was rather proud that it was Nick who proved the most knowledgeable. As he followed Brunson out of the lounge, his focus narrowed as he mentally reviews procedure, all thoughts of boredom gone.
+++
Nick’s first impression of the surgical department was that it was much less chaotic than the ER. This floor was sparse and sterile, not at all like the cramped and bustling halls and trauma rooms in the Emergency department.
At first, this came as a breath of fresh air, but as the day went on, he quickly started to get bored. He was itching to get into an OR to observe an operation, but all elective procedures had been cancelled as a result of the ice storm that was due to hit the North Carolina coastline at any minute.
He couldn’t keep himself from looking out the window every few seconds as he sat in the lounge with Dr. Richardson, an anatomy textbook open in front of him. “Here, why don’t you brush up on your A&P?” his mentor surgeon had suggested, dropping the thick book down on the table in front of him before settling back to work on some of his own paperwork. “You never know when it will come in handy; if the roads get bad with this storm, we could have some emergencies coming in. There’s always a lot of bad MVAs in a storm.” (AN: MVA = Motor Vehicle Accident)
Nick had nodded agreeably and opened the book, but after flipping through a few pages, he had quickly lost interest in studying. The whole point of being a third-year, he thought, was that you got to get away from the classroom, away from the textbooks, and actually put your knowledge to use, actually do something. He wanted to do something interesting, or at least watch something interesting, but for now, the most interesting thing in the vicinity was the sleet that had started to come down outside.
He watched it for a few minutes, stealing glances in between pretending to study the diagrams in his book, but within minutes, the window was fogged up and iced over, and he could no longer see out of it.
“Looks like it’s starting to get bad,” he observed, pointing to the window.
Dr. Richardson looked up. “Yep. The MVAs should start rolling in any minute. Stupid people, out driving in this when they should just stay in…” he muttered, shaking his head as he went back to his work.
Was it wrong to secretly hope for some of those stupid people to wreck? Nick felt guilty for it, but he was really hoping for a surgery to happen soon. He didn’t have the attention span to sit around like this, just waiting, not even sure what to study for because he didn’t know what procedure he’d be observing first, or even if he would get to observe a procedure at all.
Justin Timberlake apparently felt the same way. Nick looked up as his fellow-third year came banging into the lounge, his body slouched. “Man, this sucks,” he complained to Nick as he went to the refrigerator, pulling out a twenty-four ounce bottle of Mountain Dew. Twisting open the top, he took a long slurp and exhaled loudly. “You seen any procedures yet, Carter?”
“Nope… you?” Nick was afraid to complain about the lack of excitement around Dr. Richardson; the man seemed nice enough from the few occasions Nick had been around him, but he also had a seriousness about him that was intimidating. Nick didn’t want to get on his bad side on the first day.
Justin snorted. “No… man, Dr. Cannon’s got me practicing reading X-rays to classify bone fractures. I learned how to read a friggin’ x-ray in the ER; I’m ready for some action!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Nick saw Dr. Richardson look up, but the older surgeon didn’t say anything.
As if answering their prayers, Dr. Brunson, whom Nick never would have thought of as an answer to any prayer, suddenly burst into the lounge.
“We’ve got a patient coming down with severe peritonitis. I’ve booked OR 1 for emergency surgery. Richardson, would you like to assist?”
Dr. Richardson jumped up, setting his charts aside. “Of course.” He looked over at Nick and started to add, “Can-”
“Ahh, Mr. Timberlake. And Mr. Carter,” interrupted Dr. Brunson, who had followed Kevin’s gaze and was now looking at each of the students in turn. “I take it you’re both on surgical rotation as of today?”
The two students nodded, and Justin added a rather squeaky “Yes, ma’am.”
Suck-up, thought Nick, smirking over at him. He couldn’t blame Justin for trying though; he’d had more than his fair share of run-ins with the formidable Dr. Brunson during their fall semester.
“Well, perhaps one of you would like to observe the procedure then?” Brunson suggested, and they both nodded eagerly. “Alright then, who can tell me what peritonitis is?”
Nick and Justin exchanged looks, only to realize at the same time that they were being quizzed. Nick’s mind started to race, but luckily, this was a fairly easy one. “It’s an inflammation of the peritoneum, caused by infection?” he managed to get out, while Justin was still on an “Uhh…,” his face all screwed up in concentration.
“Are you asking me or telling me, Carter?” barked Dr. Brunson
“Telling you,” Nick quickly replied.
“Good. And I assume you know your anatomy – the peritoneum is what, exactly?”
Nick had already known that answer before today, but by the hand of fate, the page of the anatomy textbook he had been staring at for the last half hour was the gastrointestinal system. “It’s the membrane that lines the abdominal wall,” he answered easily. “It covers most of the organs, especially the gastrointestinal ones.”
“Correct – not that I would have expected any less from a third-year. That’s basic anatomy,” snapped Dr. Brunson, glaring over at Justin, whose mouth was gaping soundlessly. “And what can you tell me about the presentation of peritonitis?”
“Infection!” Justin blurted, so quickly and so loudly that, this time, Nick was rendered speechless, in order to stop and look at him. Blushing, Justin stammered, “I-I mean, the patient will present with… with signs of an infection.”
“Well, of course, seeing as how Mr. Carter has already informed us that peritonitis is caused by infection,” Brunson said irritably. “Could you possibly grace us with some more specific symptoms, Mr. Timberlake?”
Justin opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally asking, “High white blood count?”
Dr. Brunson made a tutting noise. “Not if the patient has already become septic; then he or she would probably be leucopenic. Mr. Carter, do you know of any characteristic signs that present themselves upon physical examination?”
“Uh… well, they’d be tender to palpitation of the abdomen,” said Nick, thinking back to the many physical examinations he’d done in the ER. “And the abdomen would be stiff, maybe even distended? They could be nauseous or vomiting too.”
Dr. Brunson nodded shortly. “That’s a start anyway. This particular patient was admitted several days ago with a small bowel obstruction due to Crohn’s disease. Dr. Emerson performed the surgery to remove the blockage. Today, three days post-op, the patient developed severe abdominal pain, high-grade fever, tachycardia, vomiting, and decreased urine output. I consulted with the physician; diagnosis is peritonitis. What would you suspect is the cause, Mr. Carter?”
Nick thought quickly, trying to process all the information she had given him. “Well, since he just had surgery, it could have been caused by a complication – maybe his intestines got punctured?”
“Good hypothesis. We won’t know until we open her up, but yes, a tear in the bowel is a definite possibility. Too bad Emerson isn’t on call today to repair his mistake, if that’s the case. As it is, Dr. Richardson is here to assist, and Mr. Carter, since you seem to have a solid understanding of the condition, why don’t you tag along and learn the surgical remedy?”
Nick’s heart leapt. “I can observe?” he asked hopefully.
“Yes, if you’re available to scrub in the next two minutes,” replied Dr. Brunson. Nick nodded eagerly, and Dr. Richardson smiled at him over Dr. Brunson’s shoulder.
“Can I… um, Dr. Brunson, would you mind if I came too?” Justin asked tentatively. “I haven’t seen a procedure yet, and-”
“And you won’t, until you can prove you have a solid understanding of the cause for the procedure,” snapped Dr. Brunson, rounding on him, her sharp, hawkish eyes flashing dangerously. “I’m sure Dr. Cannon can provide you with some reading material to help enlighten you, Mr. Timberlake. Or there’s always chart work to be done.” With that, she stalked away, calling over her shoulder, “Richardson, Carter, we need to scrub in now, or we’ll have a septic patient on our table!”
“Come on, Nick,” said Dr. Richardson, putting a hand on his shoulder as he steered Nick out of the room. Nick felt a rush of excitement that was only curbed slightly when he glanced back to see the dejected look on Justin’s face.
+++
“What do you think?” Brian sat back and watched the little girl examine the row of neat, dark stitches on her palm.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she announced after a few moments.
Brian smiled at the little girl’s mother, who watched her daughter nervously. “Good. Now, I won’t have to give you any medicine if you follow my directions. How’s that sound?”
“Awesome!” She grinned, showing off a missing tooth.
“I can assure you, Stella’s going to do everything you tell her, Dr. Littrell. She’s certainly not going near the ice from now on. I don’t ever want her to have to go through this again,” the mother spoke anxiously, her gaze darting from her daughter’s face to the stitches.
Brian nodded. “I don’t want Stella to have to go through it either, but I don’t think she has to be banned from ice skating. You can relax, Mrs. Matthews. All Stella has to do when she gets home is change into warm clothes, drink hot chocolate, and not go outside for the rest of the day. It’s getting dangerous out there.”
“That’s all?” Stella asked, in wonder at the fact that she could just have fun and get better easily.
“That’s it,” Brian assured her. “Oh, and remember to clean the stitches and change the bandage every day. I think your mom can help you with that, right?”
Mrs. Matthews nodded, a relieved smile forming on her face. “I absolutely will help. Anything it takes to fix this.”
Brian jotted down his notes on the chart. “Great! Well, you’re all set here. Remember to come back in ten days to have the stitches removed. And drive carefully on your way home. It’s getting icy outside.”
Ruffling Stella’s hair and hearing her giggle, Brian smiled to himself and headed back into the fray of chaos that the ER had been all morning.
+++
“… and there’s number eleven. Damn Howie, guess I owe you twenty bucks,” AJ grumbled as they passed their tenth abandoned car on the side of the road.
Howie chuckled as he won their little bet. “Sorry man, but you were the stupid one to think there wouldn’t be more then ten cars on the side of the road. But now you can buy me dinner.” Howie smirked as he made sure to glance into the car to just be sure no one was sitting it in.
“The hell if I’m buying you dinner; I’ll give you your twenty bucks for you to buy your own dinner. And I just figured these backroads hillbillies would be stupid enough to be out on the road.” AJ carefully turned down a road, slowing down enough to keep from spinning or sliding on the newly-forming ice.
Howie glanced at his friend with a smirk. “Um, AJ… in case you didn’t realize, you’re one of those ‘backroads hillbillies,’ as you so blatantly put it. May I remind you that you live on Billy Joe Road? Now if that’s not a backroads street name, I don’t know what is.” Howie laughed so hard at his own joke that he was grasping his stomach.
AJ rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky you already have yourself a woman, D, cause with that sense of humor, you’d never get another one.” He momentarily took his eyes off the road to get Howie a good sneer.
Howie was just about to flip his friend off when suddenly he saw a car coming around the next corner rather out of control. “AJ, LOOK OUT!”
AJ swiftly took his foot off of the gas pedal, fighting not to act on instinct and hit the breaks. Luckily for the two paramedics, the out of control car slid across the pavement a few feet away. Unluckily for them, as their rig came to a slow halt, they witnessed the car bounce harshly against the side of the nearby ditch.
“Son of a…” AJ mumbled.
Howie’s eyes went wide as he saw the passenger sail right through the windshield. After sitting there for a moment in complete shock, he snapped into action. “AJ, radio this in. I’ll get the passenger; you check the driver.” After barking out the orders, he grabbed his bag and a backboard and slid out onto the slick street, making his way to the person that was sprawled out on the cold, hard ground.
It wasn’t often that they witnessed the actual accident, especially one to this extent. All too soon, he found himself crouched down next to the young woman who was laid out on her side. “Miss? Miss? Can you hear me??” Howie began unzipping his medical bag.
The girl let out a moan; tears were streaming down her face. “Oh no… oh no, oh no.”
“Can you tell me your name, Miss?” Howie asked as he quickly worked to strap a neck brace on her.
The girl visibly swallowed hard, her voice shaking. “A…Anna… Anna Spencer. James?? Where’s James???!”
“I need you to stay as still as possible, Anna; I’m worried about your injuries. Were you not wearing your seatbelt?”
“You didn’t answer me, WHERE’S JAMES?!! JAMES! JAMES!” She tried yelling out for her boyfriend.
“Calm down, dear, he’s still in the car. My partner is tending to him. Now can you tell me if anything hurts? Does it hurt to breathe?”
Her teeth chattered a little. “Um... actually, not much is hurting; is that bad?”
Howie bit his lip briefly, trying to not show his worry. “I’m sure it’s just the shock, honey.”
Her whole body had started to quiver, her rapid breath coming in small clouds. “It’s so icy…” she murmured, her teeth chattering harder. “Th-they let us out of sc-school early, be-because of the st-storm… J-James is a good driver, but he… he lost control. The road was so s-slippery…”
Howie looked at her in sympathy and wondered how the boy was doing. “Do you think you can just stay very still for me while I go check on your friend and get some help from my partner?”
“J-just make sure James is okay, please?”
Howie nodded and gave her hand a slight squeeze before hopping up to his feet and heading towards the mangled car. He noticed that AJ had been able to get the car door open and had also placed a neck brace on the victim. “Hey J, give me his stats.”
AJ was quick to ramble off the information Howie had asked for. “Male driver, late teens maybe early twenties, unconscious from the get go. He has severe trauma to his chest and abdomen from the impact of the steering wheel. BP is way low; I started an IV, but I think we’re gonna have to tube him once we get him on the stretcher. We need to get him to the hospital fast!” AJ had managed to rush over to the ambulance during his exchange and pull the stretcher out.
“Okay, let’s do this; the girl isn’t faring much better either. I’m worried about some kinda spinal injury and she’s losing a lot of blood from her abdomen and legs.”
Both men worked together quickly as they get both of their patients into the awaiting ambulance just as the police cars began to pull up. With the sirens blaring, Howie began tending to them in the back, while AJ carefully made his way through the icy streets, hoping to get to the hospital in time to save these two.
+++
Half an hour later, still reeling from the horrific accident scene that he and Howie had just witnessed, AJ stood just outside of the ambulance bay smoking a cigarette in attempts to calm his nerves. Howie exited the hospital and handed him a cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” he said, taking a draw off the cigarette and slowly exhaling the smoke.
“Dani make it home okay?”
Howie nodded. “I had to listen to Sophie rant for a few minutes though. Apparently, she took it as a direct insult to her parenting skills that I was checking up on our daughter.”
The sudden crackle of static over the ambulance radio interrupted the conversation, and both AJ and Howie ran to the ambulance…
“We have just received reports of a missing eight-year-old male, Luke Carlton, sandy brown hair and blue eyes. He was last seen leaving Cannon Elementary school at around eleven-thirty this morning. Apparently, he decided to walk home from school because no one was available to pick him up.”
“Dear Lord, a kid’s lost in this weather?” AJ asked in disbelief.
“He goes to Dani’s school,” Howie stated worriedly.
“Do you know him?” AJ asked.
Howie shook his head.
“Still, AJ… that’s someone’s child out there. The police are going to need all the help they can get.”
AJ nodded in agreement as he looked up at the quickly darkening sky.
“Well, either way, it would be good to have medical personnel around when the little boy is found.”
Howie smiled, knowing that was AJ’s way of saying he was all for helping find Luke. With the decision made, AJ and Howie quickly got into the ambulance, both praying that Luke would be found soon and return home safely.
+++
Nick Carter had proved himself eager to learn and fairly capable in the OR, despite his lack of prior experience. Kevin had caught Holli's look of approval - when the younger man wasn't aware, of course - and his estimation of the student hitched up a degree. With time and training, and a lot of experience, Carter had a real chance of being a sound doctor.
Once Holli had gone, and Nick was observing proper closure procedures, Kevin spoke.
“This was an easy one,” he said. “Fairly cut and dried, if you'll excuse the expression. But you can learn from every case if you pay attention.”
“It's amazing how small that laceration was; I almost missed it even when you pointed it out,” Nick admitted.
“Dr. Brunson is one of the best,” Kevin acknowledged. “Eyes of an eagle. Not much gets by her, as you'll come to find out.”
“I can believe it,” Nick muttered, causing Kevin to smile
Turning back to the task at hand, he continued his demonstration.
+++
“So, Carter, what did you think?” asked Dr. Richardson as he and Nick walked out of the OR.
Nick grinned. “That was cool,” he admitted, not caring how young he sounded for saying so.
Though he had done nothing more than hold tools and, occasionally, suction during the surgery, it had still been fascinating to have stood there, all gowned up and sterilized, like a real surgeon, and watch as Drs. Brunson and Richardson had cut into the middle-aged woman on the operating table, draining the infection that had spread throughout her abdomen, and repairing the small tear in her large intestine that had caused it. The surgery had gone well, and Brunson had even let Dr. Richardson take extra time in closing to show Nick the proper way to apply the sutures and steri-strips that would help seal the woman’s incision.
Dr. Richardson laughed, crinkles appearing at the corners of his green eyes. “Well, if you thought that was ‘cool,’ just wait. You’ll see a lot more interesting surgical cases than peritonitis this semester.”
Nick nodded, half-eager, half-worried. He had learned a lot just from this operation alone, yet he didn’t see how he would ever be able to master as much as the two elder surgeons obviously had. The inside of the human body looked very little like the colorful diagrams in his anatomy textbooks; most of the organs were similar in color, and with all of the connective tissue to prod through, he’d found it hard to tell what was what at first. How would he ever learn to spot the smallest of holes, as Dr. Brunson had, and skillfully repair them without tearing anything else?
Nick had always had good hand-eye coordination, and it had served him well in the ER, especially with the smaller proportions of the pediatric patients he had treated under Dr. Littrell, but surgical procedures were much more intense and invasive than the procedures he’d learned to do in the ER. It made him nervous to think that one small knick could result in a patient getting very sick, possibly even dying.
“Well, why don’t you take a break, grab some lunch,” Dr. Richardson suggested. “Just like in the ER, you never know when there might be an emergency, so it’s always good to grab something to eat when you can.”
Nick nodded obediently; he really wasn’t hungry, after observing the operation, but a semester in the ER had demonstrated how right Kevin was. They could be called for a consult or whisked away to scrub in for an unscheduled surgery at any time.
“I’ll be in the lounge if you need me,” Dr. Richardson added. “I brown-bagged it today.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I think I’m just gonna grab something from the vending machine,” said Nick, motioning towards a waiting area, where there were two of them. He didn’t feel like a big lunch; a bag of chips or a candy bar would serve him fine for now.
“Suit yourself,” said Dr. Richardson, turning to head back to the lounge.
Nick had just started towards the vending machines, when he heard someone call, “Kevin!” He turned at the same time Dr. Richardson did; the tall, red-haired head nurse of the surgery, Hayley, was bustling out from the nurses station. “Chris Kirkpatrick just called from the ER; they had a major MVA come in, and there are two patients in need of a surgical consult down there. He said one’s critical,” she added.
Dr. Richardson nodded. “Thanks, Hayley; I’ll head down right now.” Turning, he noticed Nick and called, “So, Nick, you wanna see some action?”
Abandoning all thoughts of a candy bar, Nick nodded. “Yeah, totally!” he exclaimed, jogging over to fall in step with his mentor.
Together, the two men ducked into the stairwell and followed the flight of stairs down to the ER.
+++
“In here,” said Chris Kirkpatrick when he saw Kevin and Nick in the ER, beckoning them into one of the trauma rooms. JC Chasez and two other nurses surrounded the patient, a teenage boy, Nick realized, as he followed Kevin to the foot of the gurney.
“Patient is James Buckley, eighteen years old, victim of a single-car MVA,” Chris filled them in. “He was smashed against the steering wheel in the collision and has trauma to the chest and abdomen from the impact.”
Nick could see the bruises already starting to form on the unconscious boy’s torso. Other than the contusions and a few scratches on his face, he looked unharmed, but Nick knew from experience that his insides could look a lot worse.
“We suspect internal hemorrhaging,” added Dr. Chasez, confirming Nick’s suspicions. Dr. Richardson seemed to have guessed the same, for he gave a short nod and came around to one side of the gurney, motioning for Nick to follow.
Dr. Richardson looked at the monitors keeping track of James’s vital signs; his heart rate was high, his blood pressure low. The trauma team had already started him on oxygen and blood transfusions.
“What are his breath sounds like?”
“Decreased on the left; he had a tension pneumo when he was brought in, but I already did a thoracostomy and placed a chest tube,” said Dr. Chasez promptly, motioning to the thin tubing that snaked out of the side of the boy’s chest.
“Set up for ultrasound,” Dr. Richardson directed. “Nick, examine the belly; check for tenderness or distention.”
Nodding, Nick carefully pressed his fingers into the boy’s abdomen, as he had learned to do during his ER rotation. Though unconscious, James moaned lightly as his touch. “His abdomen is tender,” Nick observed, continuing to prod.
He was vaguely aware of the sound of doors crashing open and glanced up briefly to see nurse Natalie Spade stick her head through the doors that connected to the adjoining trauma room. “Dr. Richardson, Dr. O’Brien said to tell you that we need a surgical consult in here as well.”
Dr. Richardson’s voice sounded annoyed when he asked, “What’s the situation?”
“We’ve got a female adolescent, victim of an MVA, with massive trauma to the lower half of her body, particularly the legs. She’s going to need surgery.”
“Another MVA?” Nick asked curiously, looking up again.
“She’s his girlfriend,” Chris informed him, gesturing to the patient whose belly Nick was palpitating.
“What are her vitals? Is she critical?” Dr. Richardson grilled Natalie.
“No, she’s in shock, but stable.”
“Well, this boy could be critical; he has chest and abdominal trauma. Yours sounds like it could be more of an orthopedic case. Call back up to surgery and get Amory Cannon to come down and take a look at her,” said Dr. Richardson, dismissing her.
When Natalie had gone back into the other room, Nick spoke up, “Dr. Richardson? He’s distended, especially on the left.” He felt a place on the boy’s belly which seemed swollen and firm.
“Good. Step back,” instructed Dr. Richardson, taking Nick’s place. He repeated the exam briefly and nodded. “You’re right; distention on the left. It could be the spleen. Let’s look on the ultrasound.”
One of the nurses handed him the probe that was connected to the ultrasound monitor; Dr. Richardson ran it slowly across James’s torso, studying the images on the screen intensely. “What do you see, Nick?” he asked.
Nick squinted at the monitor. He still found ultrasounds hard to read at times, and this one was especially tough; he could barely distinguish the different organs because everything seemed to be blurred by… “Blood? Is that blood?”
Dr. Richardson nodded grimly. “There’s definitely hemorrhaging; the spleen is probably lacerated, and based on the amount of blood in the belly, the injuries could be more intensive than that. I’d like to get a CT of the chest, but there’s no time; his pressure could bottom out at any minute. We need to get him up to the OR while he’s still fairly stable. Chris, could you call ahead upstairs and tell them to book us an OR immediately?”
Chris nodded, immediately reaching for the phone in the trauma room, while the other nurses got James ready to move.
“Can I scrub in?” Nick asked breathlessly as he ran alongside the gurney, helping Dr. Richardson and the nurses transport James to the elevator.
Dr. Richardson nodded. “Of course.”
Though Nick felt bad for the teenage boy on the gurney, a faint smile shone on his distorted reflection as he stood in front of stainless steel doors, waiting for the elevator.
+++
Back in the ER already, thought Isabel with a rueful smile as the elevator dinged, announcing its arrival on the first floor. Standing alongside Dr. Chung, she waited anxiously for the doors to open. They were responding to a call for a cardiology consult that had come in just minutes ago.
As the steel doors slid open, Isabel caught sight of a group of doctors and nurses waiting with a patient a few feet from the elevator. She hurried out so that they could get in, but not before a familiar voice called her name.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw Nick waving at her as he helped back the gurney into the elevator. She smiled, feeling a rush of warmth travel through her, as if she’d just downed a cup of hot cocoa (which sounded very good right about now, in the midst of the ice storm raging outside). She waved back, giving him a quick thumbs up, before the elevator doors started to close, and Dr. Chung said, “Miss Rivera? Are you coming?”
Fast on her mentor’s heels, Isabel followed Dr. Chung’s brisk pace to the correct examining room. There, she was surprised to find her former mentor, Dr. Jack Palmer, standing over the patient.
“Well, well,” Dr. Palmer said with a grin when he spotted Isabel. “Welcome back, Isabel.”
Isabel smiled; it made her feel important to be coming to the ER as a consult now. Well, accompanying the consulting physician, in any case.
“What do we have here?” asked Dr. Chung, stepping up to observe the patient in the bed, an elderly man. He was conscious and propped up in bed, his bare chest covered with white, sticky pads. Isabel’s eyes followed the lead wires from the pads up to the heart monitor, which was beeping out an irregular rhythm.
“Walter Marriott, age seventy-four, MI while attempting to scrape ice in his driveway,” said Dr. Palmer. “Mr. Marriott experienced sudden angina and trouble breathing. Luckily, his wife looked out the window and called 911 as soon as she saw he was having trouble. You’re lucky you have such an attentive wife, sir,” he added to Mr. Marriott, smiling.
“Oh, I’ll never live this down now,” the old man said wheezily, giving a tired smile in return. “She’s always worrying about me, and now I’ve given her an actual reason.”
Isabel and Dr. Palmer both chuckled, but Dr. Chung was more serious. “Have you done an ECG?”
“Right here,” said Dr. Palmer, handing her a long strip of paper that had recorded Mr. Marriott’s heart rhythm. “He showed all the classic signs of an MI, so we gave him aspirin, heparin, beta blockers, and nitroglycerin. We got his heart rate down, but he’s still experiencing arrhythmia with ST elevation.”
Dr. Chung spent a few minutes reviewing the patient’s chart and looking over the ECG, pointing out certain distinguishing characteristics to Isabel. “What further treatment would you recommend, Miss Rivera?” she asked finally.
“He seems like a good candidate for PTCA,” said Isabel, suspecting that Mr. Marriott needed an angioplasty procedure to widen the narrowed coronary arteries that had caused his heart attack. During her ER rotation, she had seen many patients come in with the same situation, though she had never observed an actual angioplasty.
Dr. Chung nodded. “I agree. Call up to the cath lab. We’ll need to get him upstairs right away.”
Isabel nodded and immediately picked up the phone.
+++
After half a day of doing nothing but charts, Justin was pretty bored. But he didn’t complain much. He would rather be doing charts than be quizzed by Dr. Brunson again. He felt even more foolish hours later than he had when he was being quizzed.
And, of course, Nick had to be Mr. Perfect… again, he thought. Justin couldn’t help but feel like an idiot compared to him. That’s how it had always been, ever since their first year of med school. The professors would praise Nick, while Justin would get scolded for making one simple mistake.
He was about to sink further into a sea of despair when he heard Dr. Cannon yell at him. “Timberlake! Scrub in! We have a young girl who needs our help!” she said, rushing to the nearby sink.
Justin didn’t hesitate for one second. He quickly stood up and ran to the sink. After scrubbing in, Justin rushed to Dr. Cannon’s side as the patient was wheeled in. As the young girl was getting prepared for the surgery, Justin turned pale.
Her legs were mangled, and her stomach was covered in blood. She had a few scratches on her face and her upper body, but her lower body was a mess, for a lack of better words.
“Anna Spencer, age seventeen. Thrown out of the vehicle when she and her boyfriend wrecked on the way home from school. Her lower body was smashed against the dashboard as she was thrown out. Her legs are broken, her pelvic bone smashed, deep cuts on each leg and on her stomach, and both ACLs in her legs are torn. Looks like we have a long surgery ahead of us,” Dr. Cannon said.
Justin stared at the poor girl again. He felt bile coming up his throat.
“Timberlake, could you PLEASE act more mature with this? You’re going to see more patients like this, perhaps even worse. And I pray that day won’t come. Come on!” Dr. Cannon said.
Justin swallowed whatever was in his throat and went to watch the surgeons do their jobs.
+++
In the OR, Nick looked down into James Buckley’s open belly with dismay. There was so much blood that he could barely tell the digestive organs apart. Dr. Richardson had already removed the lacerated spleen, and still, the blood kept coming.
“Nick, more suction,” ordered Dr. Richardson, his voice unusually sharp. Nick had been suctioning the whole time, sending a steady stream of blood into a machine called the cell saver, which cleaned it and sent it pumping back into James’s body. But the blood was leaking faster than the machine could suction it, and the patient’s vital signs were getting progressively worse.
“I’m trying,” said Nick, his voice cracking. “There’s just so much blood…” His throat felt tight; he swallowed hard, moving the suction hose around, to no effect.
Feeling slightly queasy by the sight of such massive hemorrhaging, Nick looked up and over the table. The strip of face he could see between Dr. Richardson’s surgical mask and cap was covered in a sheen of perspiration.
The sight unnerved Nick; he had never seen the surgeon look anything but cool and composed. Yet as James’s blood pressure steadily dropped, Dr. Richardson’s stress skyrocketed.
“I can’t see a damn thing,” he finally cursed, expelling a sigh of frustration beneath his mask. “How am I supposed to repair the colon when I can’t even see what I’m doing?”
“Do you want me to call Brunson?” asked Hayley, the nurse who was assisting. Her eyes looked wary above her mask.
Dr. Richardson seemed to hesitate. “Not yet,” he said finally. “Give me a few more minutes. Nick, more suction.”
Nick dutifully moved the suction hose about, clearing as much blood as he could.
For a moment, things seemed to be going better; Hayley wiped the sweat from Dr. Richardson’s forehead, and the surgeon dove back in, his thick eyebrows furrowed with determination.
Then, all hell broke loose. As Dr. Richardson lifted the colon, a geyser of blood gushed out at him, splattering the front of his surgical gown with a fresh splash of bright red. Seconds later, all of the monitors went haywire.
“Pressure’s bottoming out… Lost his pressure!” Hayley called out, staring fretfully at the monitor. The erratic beep that signified James’s heartbeat became a shrill wail. “Flatline.”
“Get Brunson,” Dr. Richardson barked. “I’m gonna crack his chest. Nick, hand me the sternal saw.”
Abandoning the suction, Nick followed the surgeon’s pointing finger and retrieved the saw that was meant to slice through ribs and sternum to open up a patient’s chest. He passed it to Dr. Richardson, who didn’t hesitate one moment before applying it expertly to the ashen teenager on the table. The mere sound of the saw made Nick cringe, but he kept his composure, admiring his mentor surgeon’s quick work.
“Hayley, charge the defibrillator,” Dr. Richardson commanded to the nurse, who had just finished paging the chief of surgery. “Ever shocked anyone from inside the chest, Nick?”
“No,” said Nick, almost breathless.
“After today, you will have. Internal paddles?” Hayley passed a set of small, tong-like paddles to Dr. Richardson. Nick watched in wonder as he stuck them straight into James’s open chest, placing them in position on either side of his unbeating heart. “Here, Nick… take them,” he ordered, and Nick put his hands over the older man’s, taking command of the paddles.
“Charge to 50?”
“Charged,” said Hayley.
“Then whenever you’re ready, Nick.”
Nick hesitated not even a second. “Clear!” his voice shook, and he closed his eyes as he delivered the shock straight into the boy’s heart.
+++
“Clear!”
Isabel squeezed her eyes shut as the word was issued. She opened them in dismay when she heard the nurse’s voice say, “No change. Still in V-fib.”
“Charge again. 250,” came Dr. Chung’s curt command.
“Charging…”
Isabel watched, this time, as Dr. Chung pressed the paddles against Mr. Marriott’s chest. His old, feeble body jumped on the table with the surge of electricity, but when her eyes flew to the heart monitor, the faltering line did not change.
Her own heart hurt with sorrow. The angioplasty was supposed to been a routine procedure; though she had never observed one until now, Isabel had read all about them. They were a very common way of treating patients with blood clots and narrowed coronaries.
Mr. Marriott should have sailed through, but instead, he’d suffered a second heart attack in the middle of the procedure. It had been over fifteen minutes, and his damaged heart had still not recovered a rhythm that would sustain life.
“Asystole,” the nurse said suddenly, and Isabel looked up again to see that the line on the heart monitor had flattened completely.
“Should I do chest compressions?” she asked Dr. Chung, moving forward. She stopped when the petite cardiologist shook her head, her mouth pressed into a narrow, firm line.
“It’s too late,” she said, her voice soft, but sure. “His heart has been unresponsive for nearly twenty minutes; we will not get him back. Too much damage has been done.”
Isabel let out a shaky breath, feeling helpless. She wanted to protest that they should at least try CPR, but the decision had already been made. Dr. Chung was stripping off her gloves and looking toward the clock. “Time of death: 16: 37.”
***
“Time of death: 16: 45,” murmured Dr. Richardson, staring up at the clock on the OR wall. Sighing, he looked across the table at Nick, who was staring down at the mutilated body of James Buckley. “For what it was worth, you did a good job assisting, Carter.”
Nick looked up. “Thanks,” he muttered, feeling he didn’t deserve any kind of praise. The patient had died.
“You’ll close and clean up, I assume?” asked Dr. Brunson, her heavy, dark eyebrows arching above her mask. She had come in just to witness the last-ditch attempt to save the boy’s life. It had been she who had declared it a lost cause and ordered Dr. Richardson to call his death.
Dr. Richardson nodded, and the head of surgery promptly left, tossing her clean surgical garb in the waste bin on her way out.
“Well, Nick, you can close if you want. Sad as it is to say, this is a good opportunity for you to get some practice at good suturing. It won’t matter what this kid’s scar looks like.”
The thought of sewing the poor teenager’s dead body back together made Nick feel sick, but he swallowed hard and nodded, listening closely as Dr. Richardson demonstrated how to do it.
+++
Hayley Aldworth watched warily as Kevin called the time of death. Her sharp ears had no trouble detecting the pain in his voice; he had given his all, but it hadn't been enough. Normally, she knew, he wouldn't have lingered in the OR, faced with his so-called failure, but there was still work to be done. Sad as it was, it was still a learning opportunity for the young student under Kevin's care. As she began gathering bloodied instruments onto the rolling tray, she absently listened to him instructing Carter on technique. Although Nick looked a bit green, he went ahead with the poignant duty of stitching together the lifeless body on the table.
The job was quickly finished, and Nick was the first one out of the room. She waited for Kevin, silently accompanying him to the adjoining area and helping him strip off his blood-soaked gown.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice low and tired.
“You did what you could,” she offered.
“I know.”
She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “It's hard when they're so young.”
“Always.”
“Go home, get some rest, okay? We'll fight the good fight tomorrow.”
He managed a small smile. “That we will.”
She left, giving him the bit of solitude she knew he needed. Ten minutes later, purse and coat in hand, she watched the elevator doors close shut, putting the day behind her at last.
+++
With each passing minute, Howie knew that Luke’s chances were decreasing. The temperature was dropping steadily. As the sun set, it was well below freezing, and Luke’s risk of developing hypothermia from the cold was rising steadily. What worried AJ and Howie the most was the fact that it was a rural area, meaning there was a lot of trees and other landscape that would conceal a scared and lost little boy in the darkness.
It had been AJ’s idea to start at the elementary school where Luke was last seen and then move in the direction of his home. It had been a very logical choice, but so far had proved unsuccessful.
AJ drove along slowly. He and Howie were both looking around for any sign of Luke.
“AJ, we’re not really getting anywhere… and we’re running out of time,” he added worriedly. “Do you want to try on foot?”
“Where, D? I mean, did you have a particular area in mind?”
“I’m trying to think like a lost little boy,” Howie said. “At this point, he’s probably disoriented from the hypothermia and extremely scared, I’m sure. He would probably seek shelter. Listen, there’s wooded areas all around here. Why don’t we grab the medical bag and flashlights and look around?”
“It can’t hurt. No one else seems to be having any luck.”
AJ and Howie chose a small cluster of forest that was about midway between the school and Luke’s home. Grabbing medical supplies, blankets and flashlights, the two paramedics set out in search of Luke.
It wasn’t easy going; the icy ground made walking a difficult task, and the flashlights provided little light to penetrate the winter darkness.
They trudged on, flashlights scanning everywhere as they called Luke’s name. They were almost ready to give up hope, Howie questioning his reasons for setting out on foot. Suddenly, Howie’s flashlight caught something red lying on the icy ground. Upon closer investigation, he realized it was a backpack… a Spiderman backpack. Moving the flashlight inches forward, Howie saw the little boy lying on his stomach, face down and apparently unconscious.
“AJ, I found him!’ Howie shouted
Howie’s heart sank, his first thought being that Luke was dead. “Luke,” he said leaning down to touch the little boy’s back. He felt immensely relieved when he felt Luke stir beneath his touch.
“Luke, can you hear me?” he asked gently.
The little boy’s reply was muffled and barely above a whisper, but it was there nonetheless.
“Luke, listen to me, my name is Howie. I’m here to help you. You just have to stay with me, okay?”
“Okay,” Luke mumbled weakly.
“Are you hurt?” Howie asked.
“No… just c-cold,” Luke said through chattering teeth.
“Don’t worry, son. We’re gonna get you out of here,” AJ spoke up reassuringly. He and Howie bundled Luke in blankets, and Howie carefully lifted the little boy’s light frame into his arms.
“Luke, keep talking to me, kiddo,” Howie said, knowing it was important to keep Luke awake. “Tell me how you got lost.”
“I was walking home from school after we got out. Mommy and Daddy work during the day and couldn’t come and get me. I got turned around and got lost.”
Howie continued asking Luke a variety of trivial questions in attempts to keep him awake, everything from who his favorite baseball team was, to which one of Spiderman’s powers was his favorite.
After what seemed like forever, they reached the highway and the parked ambulance. They quickly alerted the hospital to inform them that Luke had been found. As AJ drove the speeding ambulance to the hospital, Howie checked Luke’s vitals and hooked the little boy up to an IV of warm saline to bring his body temperature back up. He certainly wasn’t out of the woods yet.
Howie removed Luke’s shoes. “Luke, can you feel your toes?” he asked.
“No, they’re numb,” Luke replied.
Howie was saddened at the possibly that Luke could lose some toes. He tried to keep a positive attitude as he continued examining Luke.
They reached the hospital at last, and Luke was taken into the care of the awaiting staff of doctors and nurses. Howie and AJ hung back, both exhausted from their ordeal.
“You think he’s gonna be okay?” AJ asked.
“I don’t know,” Howie said. “He’s been through a lot. He obviously a tough kid, though. We’ll just have to wait and pray.”
+++
“Dr. Harnett, you’ve got a call on line three,” an exhausted Melissa at the nurses’ station held a phone out to Ivory. “I think it’s your cousin, Tom. At least, I think that’s what he said his name was.” She smiled wearily. “It’s been kind of a crazy day, so I’m not too sharp at the moment.”
Ivory patted her hand. “It’s okay. It has been wild, what with the storm and all. I’m glad we didn’t lose power because you know how awful that generator is.”
“Tell me about it.” Melissa rolled her eyes. “You’d think being a hospital where people need electricity to operate the machines that help them live, we’d get a decent generator. Of course not. Anyway, phone for you.”
Ivory took the receiver. “Thanks, Mel. Hello?” she spoke into the phone.
“Ives! Hey, it’s Tommy,” a familiar male voice on the other end responded cheerily. “Remember me?”
“How could I forget?” Ivory smiled. “How’ve you been? How’s your clinic running?” she added, remembering the place he’d opened in downtown Seattle two years earlier.
“I’m all right. The clinic… well, it’s not too great.” He sighed. “Actually, it’s sort of why I called you. I know you’re at work and all, but I had this idea and need your help.”
“It couldn’t wait another three hours until I got home?”
“Ivory, you know I forget stuff like that. Sorry,” he apologized. “Besides, I wanted to find out how things are going with that investigation.”
Awful. She closed her eyes briefly as the humiliation swarmed through her again. “It sucks,” she admitted. “They keep calling me in front of a panel, asking me the same questions, and letting me go. On top of that, they won’t let me work more than thirty-five hours a week. Do you know how terrible that is?”
“Honestly? I don’t, but I can feel your pain. My partner quit last week,” he told her. “I’m trying to run this clinic single-handedly, and I’m in desperate need of some help.”
“Wish I could help,” she replied.
“Well, you know if you ever decide you’re tired of the yo-yo sensation the hospital’s giving you, you’re absolutely welcome to come and help me out,” Tom offered.
Ivory frowned, unsure whether he was joking or not. “Are you serious?”
“Uh, not really. I know how much you love Atlantic City, Ives. You’d never want to move all the way across the country from it.” He paused. “Anyway, the idea I wanted to ask you about was: if you know of any doctor who’d be willing to take the empty position at my clinic, let me know. Get me their number, and I’ll definitely call them up. I need all the help I can get.”
“Of course, I’ll help! I’m sorry about the partner, and I’ll let you know the second I run into anyone who might want to take the job. Good luck in the meantime.”
“Yeah, you, too. Oh, and I like the DVDs you sent me for Christmas. Good stuff.”
Ivory smiled. “I’m glad you liked them. Anyway, I have to get going. I’ll call you later?”
“Yeah, absolutely. That is, if the clinic hasn’t eaten my soul,” he answered, jokingly.
“Fight that beast, Tommy. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye, Ivory.”
She hung up and stood thinking for a few moments. Who did she know who might want to uproot themselves three thousand miles for work? The only doctors she knew were the ones she worked with, or friends at other practices. None of them were unhappy with their positions… not like she was.
Tom had been joking when he’d offered her the job, but what if she took it? What if she quit her job before they got around to dismissing her? She could start fresh in a new city where none of her past could really follow her. Certainly not Brunson. And no Brunson sounded like a great idea.
Wait a minute. Am I seriously considering calling Tom back and offering myself for the post? Ivory frowned at the packed waiting room, not really seeing them as she was lost in thought. Could I really leave this hospital, my friends, Brian?
Brian.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” An arm slid around her waist, and she looked up into weary, but cheerful, blue eyes.
“Hi.” She relaxed in his hold. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine.” Of course, she couldn’t leave this man. He made the whole mess worthwhile for her. She couldn’t go.
Brian kissed her lightly. “You’re sure everything’s okay? You were frowning at the patients like they were the plague.”
“I was talking to my cousin,” she told him. “He’s got a clinic in Seattle, but his partner walked out and left him swamped. He wanted to know if I could get him in touch with anyone that might want to take the job. I was just trying to think of people I know that might be interested. That’s all.” She smiled. “How’s your day been?”
“Almost over. Thank God.” Brian smiled back, glad that it hadn’t been something about the investigation making her upset. “This storm has given me plenty of patients since I got in this morning.”
“Oh, I know.” She walked with him towards the lounge. “I’ve had nothing but broken bones and stitches all day. If I have to see another X-ray of a fracture, it’ll be too soon.”
In the lounge, Brian poured a mug of stale coffee and grimaced when he sipped. “I know what you mean. I’ve had kids come in who’ve fallen on the ice and split skin. Others broke wrists, ankles, and a couple tailbones here and there.”
Ivory grinned. “I bet spending time with the good Dr. Littrell fixed them right up.”
“You know it.” Smiling, he was leaning towards her when the door swung open.
“Brian! There’s a kid coming in with hypothermia,” a rushed Susan told him. “Dorough and McLean called ahead to alert you. The little boy’s been out in the storm all day, and they’re not sure he’ll make it.”
Brian hurried out the door after her and reached the ER in time to see Howie and AJ roll in a gurney with a small child strapped into it.
“We found him wandering. He’s been outside since this morning,” Howie explained as he helped Brian get the child into a trauma room. “He’s frozen to the bone. BP’s not doing too well, his temp’s dropped extremely low.”
Brian noted the blue lips, the icy skin, and ordered one of the nurses to aid him in stripping off the boy’s clothes. They seemed to be frozen to him, and ice clung to every inch of his clothing and hair.
When he moaned a little and opened his eyes halfway, Brian shone a light in his eyes. “Pupils are dilated,” he muttered to himself before raising his voice. “Hey there, big guy. I hear you’ve been out in the cold for quite some time.”
“Hurts,” came the reply.
“I know, buddy. We’re going to try to fix you up good as new, okay?” Brian checked the pulse and noted it was dipping dangerously low. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Luke,” he whispered. “I want my mom.”
Brian glanced over at one of the nurses. “Can you call his parents for me? I know they’re probably really worried about him.” He looked back down at the child. “Hang in there, okay? We’re going to get your parents here and have you feeling better in no time.”
Luke tried to nod, but his eyes drooped shut, and the heart rate monitor began wildly beeping.
“He’s dropping rapidly!” Susan called out.
Brian snapped out an order for the crash cart. “And where are those heated blankets I asked for three minutes ago?”
“In the waiting room,” Susan answered. “They’ve been handing them out to the homeless who’ve gathered in there.”
“Well, can you round some up for me? This little boy needs them more! And Addie, can you get a core temp?”
The nurses sprang into action, Susan running for the supplies he had requested, while Addie tried to measure Luke’s temperature. Brian turned back to the little boy.
“He has an arrhythmia,” said Jaela, pointing to the heart monitor, which had registered the irregular heart rhythm.
Brian took a deep breath. “Alright, let’s be very gentle with him, everyone. He’s in an advanced stage of hypothermia, and if we jostle him too much, he could arrest. Jaela, let’s give him bretylium, 5 mgs per kilogram IV, and another round of warm saline. I’m going to intubate him; then we can keep him oxygenated with heated O2.”
Brian had just finished guiding the tube down the boy’s narrow throat when the heart monitor changed its pattern. “He’s in V-fib!” cried Jaela. Brian jumped around from the head of the bed.
“Jaela, start chest compressions. Addie, you bag him. Susan, did you bring that crash cart?”
“Right here, Dr. Littrell.”
“Good. Let’s try shocking him. Charge to fifty.”
Susan charged the defibrillator and slapped a couple of pads onto Luke’s cold, pale chest, before handing Brian the paddles. “Clear!” he called and put them against their targets, causing the boy’s body to jump stiffly. There was no change on the monitors. He shocked again, two more times. Still no change.
Then the line on the heart monitor went flat. “Asystole,” Jaela said quietly. “No pulse.”
“Resume CPR,” Brian urged, and the nurse went back to her chest compressions. “Come on, buddy,” he spoke quietly to his young patient, as the nurses tried diligently to bring him back. “I know you’ve been through a lot, I know you’re cold, but we’re warming you up… you’ll be okay now; you just need to come back to us. Come back, Luke.” He wrapped his warm hand around the boy’s small, cold one, squeezing hard, willing some warmth back into the lifeless body in front of him.
“Dr. Littrell… Brian,” Jaela spoke after some time, her voice cracking. “It’s been almost half an hour, he’s been down… no pulse…”
She was still diligently pushing on Luke’s chest, but he could see that she was getting tired and had lost hope. When she looked up, meeting his gaze across the table, he saw there were tears in her eyes. Jaela was a mother, he knew; she didn’t want to lose this little boy any more than he did. But she was right… he had been without a heartbeat for a long time…
Suddenly, Susan spoke up. “Don’t give up yet. We could still get him back.” When Jaela and Addie both looked at her like she was delusional, the newer nurse argued, “I used to work at a trauma center in Utah. We saw a lot of hypothermia cases, mostly people up in the mountains. Severe hypothermia can mimic death, but the cold temperatures slow down metabolism and delay cell damage. I’ve seen patients revived who had been down longer than this. As they say, ‘You’re not dead till you’re warm and dead.’”
The other two women still looked skeptical, but Brian offered her a slight smile and a nod. “I’ve heard that too.” Checking a reading, he added, “His temp is still too low. If we can warm him up and get his heart beating again, we have a shot. Keep going with CPR, and Susan, call up to surgery and get someone down here; maybe we can set him up on bypass to warm his blood faster.”
Susan nodded and got on the phone, while Brian took over chest compressions for the exhausted Jaela. After a few more minutes, the heart monitor suddenly registered it – a heartbeat. All heads in the room looked up as it beeped once… then twice… then again, slowly, hesitantly, again.
“He has a faint pulse,” whispered Jaela in almost disbelief, as the heart monitor continued to beep, faster and faster, like an accelerating train. “Normal sinus rhythm.”
“You were right, Susan,” Brian smiled at the other nurse before looking back down at the boy. “Welcome back, Luke.”
“What do we have here?” asked another voice, and Brian looked to see Rita Sumari, the cardiothoracic surgeon, coming in. He explained quickly what had happened and assisted her in placing two catheters in Luke’s body, which would be used to filter blood in and out of his body, through a bypass machine, warming it in the process.
Once Luke was stable on the bypass machine, Brian left Rita in charge and went to talk to the boy’s parents, who had arrived. His mother was tearful, his father practically trembling. They both thanked him profusely, even when he told them that Luke wasn’t quite out of the woods yet.
“At least he’s here now. The police office told us he probably would have died if he had been lost any longer,” Luke’s mother said tremulously. “Thank God those paramedics found him when they did.”
His father jumped in with, “Do you know how we could get in contact with them? The paramedics that saved Luke? We want to thank them.”
Brian smiled. “I should be able to get them over here for you.” Going back into the trauma room, he said, “Hey, Rita, you think you can get a hold of that boyfriend of yours? I’ve got two parents in the waiting room who are eager to thank him and his partner.”
Rita smiled with pride. “I think I could manage that.”
+++
“We can never thank you enough. You went out on a limb to find him, and if it hadn’t been for you, he probably would have died. You saved his life,” gushed Luke’s mother, speaking over her son’s bedside.
Howie smiled down at the little boy, who was sleeping, but warm again and finally out of danger. It was a great relief to Howie to see that his and AJ’s efforts had been worth it. Luke had survived, and that was all that mattered.
“I’m a dad myself,” he told the boy’s parents. “I have a little girl, Danielle, who’s close to Luke’s age. I can’t imagine how terrified I would have been if it had been her lost in the cold. It was just second nature to want to help find Luke.”
“God bless you both,” said Luke’s father, shaking Howie’s hand and then AJ’s.
The two paramedics left the room a few minutes later with smiles on their faces. “We did good, J,” said Howie, putting his arm playfully around AJ’s shoulders.
“It was your idea, D,” AJ pointed out. “You’re the one who found him.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one who got him here without sliding into a ditch,” Howie replied, glancing out the ER doors, into the ambulance bay. The bright lights outside lit up the otherwise dark sky and illuminated the thick sheet of ice on the ground. “That in itself is a miracle.”
AJ smiled. “All in a day’s work, my friend. All in a day’s work.”
Glad that their trying shift had at least had a happy end, the two set out into the ice.
+++
After her surgery, Anna Spencer was wheeled to the ICU, where she was hooked up to all sorts of machines. Justin sat in a chair on the other side of the room, deep in thought. Anna had survived, but she would be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of her life. The nerve damage was too intense to fully repair. Her legs were scarred from the cuts, and she was wrapped in casts and bandages from her stomach to her toes. To make matters worse, her boyfriend had died on the operating table, and Justin had to break the news to her. Dr. Cannon would be there, too, but Justin would be the one speaking.
What do I say? “Sorry, you’re paralyzed for the rest of your life, your legs are horribly scarred, and oh, your boyfriend died?” he thought, running his fingers though his hair.
After a half an hour, Anna was waking up.
“Now Justin, remember. This is a highly sensitive situation. Be as gentle and understanding as you can,” Dr. Cannon whispered to the young medical student.
“Wha…what happened? Where’s James?” Anna asked.
Justin swallowed excess saliva and stood up. “Miss Spencer? My name’s Justin Timberlake, and I watched over your surgery. You had major cuts on your stomach and your legs. Your legs were broken, and you tore both ACLs and severed many nerves in both legs. Your pelvic bone was smashed. The bones should heal nicely, but I’m afraid that you will carry the scars and be paralyzed for the rest of your life. The nerve damage was too massive to fix. I’m really sorry, Miss Spencer,” Justin said.
Anna started to cry. “And… what about James?” she asked, looking straight at him. Justin looked at the floor.
“He was admitted to the hospital and taken to surgery… but he didn’t make it.” Justin continued to look at the floor. He didn’t want to see her cry.
“Oh God! James!!” she sobbed. Justin started to tear up too. This was the part of being a doctor that he really hated. “No one’s going to love me now! Not when I’m paralyzed and have ugly scars!” Justin couldn’t take it anymore. It broke his heart to see people crying. Justin ran to Anna’s bed and held her hands.
“Shhhh… don’t cry… listen, Anna. It’s going to be okay. You’re not ugly, and any guy would be lucky to be with you. You’re going to get the best help you can get, and get better, all right? I promise,” Justin said.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yeah… your parents are in the waiting room, and I bet they’ll be excited to see you.” Justin then walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.
“Wow… I didn’t know you had that in you, Mr. Timberlake,” Dr. Cannon said.
“Neither did I…” he responded.
Justin stared at the floor as they walked to the waiting room. He kept quiet, reflecting on the past events of the day.
“Hey… why don’t you just take a break? I’ll deal with the family. It’s been a hard day for you,” Dr. Cannon said, sensing that Justin could break down at any moment.
“Really? I mean, I need to learn –,”
“Justin, no offense, but you look like you could use a break. Go. I’ll take it from here.”
He gave Dr. Cannon a thankful look as he nodded and headed towards the break room. As soon as he walked in, Justin closed the door and cried. He hated breaking bad news to people. Just hated it. He cried for Anna, her family, and even for James. But mostly he cried because he could do nothing else to help.
+++
Isabel felt utterly drained as she plodded down the fourth floor staircase at the end of the day. Though she’d seen many patients die after working over four months in the hospital, it hadn’t gotten any easier to accept death. The death of Mr. Marriott had hit her just as hard as the first death she’d witnessed in the ER. And accompanying Dr. Chung to break the news to his poor wife had been even harder.
She’d been at the hospital for far more than twenty-four hours now and couldn’t wait to get home to her own bed. She was glad her body felt as tired as it did, for even though her mind, too, felt thick with exhaustion, she was afraid she would lay awake, dwelling on the events of the day as she often did, if she did not first succumb to her physical weariness.
She stopped off at the second floor landing, entering the surgery ward in search of Nick. He should have been off then too, if he had not gotten tied up in an emergency surgery. Looking around, she started to walk over to the nurse’s station to ask about him, when she heard his voice call her name.
“Isabel?”
Turning, she found him coming out of the staff room, his jacket draped haphazardly over one shoulder. He looked as exhausted as she felt.
“Ready to go?” she asked, forcing a smile.
“Never been readier,” he smiled back tiredly. He reached for her hand, and they walked back to the stairs together.
In the privacy of the stairwell, she brought his hand to her lips and gave it a gentle kiss. “Mmm,” she sighed, inhaling the scent of antiseptic soap beneath his fingernails, “you smell… clean.”
“All that scrubbing will do that to a person,” he remarked with a wry smile.
“So you got to scrub in?”
“Yep.”
“How was it?” she asked eagerly.
He shrugged. “You win some, you lose some. We lost bad. A teenage kid who got into an accident on the way home from school with his girlfriend. She lived, according to Timberlake. He died on our table. Massive hemorrhaging. I felt like I was in a scene from The Shining. You know that part with the waves of blood coming out from behind the doors?”
Isabel shrugged. “I don’t really like scary movies. But I know what you mean. I’m sorry,” she said sympathetically, patting his arm. She knew just how he felt. “I lost a patient too,” she told him. “An old man. He had an MI while he was out trying to scrape ice. He was doing pretty well after he was brought in, but he coded in the cath lab.”
“Sorry,” Nick returned the sentiments, putting his arm around her and giving her a little squeeze.
They continued down the stairs slowly, their arms around each other. They barely broke their hold as they passed through the ER, still bustling with traumas in the aftermath of the ice storm; it was as if they almost needed to lean on each other, literally.
When they passed through ambulance bay, Isabel straightened, but held onto Nick’s arm even tighter. The maintenance workers had done a good job at keeping the bay clear of ice, but once they got past the path of clear, wet pavement, it was a mess. There was no snow, but nearly an inch of pure, solid ice coating everything.
“I wish we had ice skates,” Isabel managed to joke as she and Nick both slipped and slid, clinging to what little traction their shoes provided. His had more than hers, so he held onto her tightly, keeping her upright. They took short, quick steps, like a couple of penguins, as they made their way toward their cars.
Behind them, they heard a sudden shout, followed by the unmistakable sound of a pair of feet skidding across the ice. They both turned just in time to see Holli Brunson fall hard on her hip upon the icy ground.
“Oh, shit,” Nick swore, letting go of Isabel so that he could hurry back to Dr. Brunson. Isabel shuffled after him, sliding with each step. “Are you okay, Dr. Brunson?” she heard him ask as he knelt down beside her, putting his knee against the wet, cold ice.
Dr. Brunson’s reply was surprisingly sharp. “I’m fine!” she snarled, looking rather like a turtle who had been turned over on its shell as she struggled to get up.
“Hang on, lemme help you,” Nick said determinedly, gritting his teeth as he reached to put his arm around her, but she swatted his hand away.
“I told you, I’m fine, Carter! Go on; I can get up on my own,” Brunson insisted with a ferociousness that was severe, even for her.
Isabel bit her lip as she watched the older woman struggle, in obvious frustration and humiliation. “You really shouldn’t move!” she called out, against her better judgment. “You might have hurt your hip.”
“I’m not that old, Miss Rivera! My hip’s fine; just a contusion, I’m sure,” spat Brunson. “Now, if the two of you would just scram and let me have some dignity-“
Nick and Isabel exchanged worried glances; Nick was still poised to help her, but she was steadfastly refusing to let him so much as touch her. Isabel was just beginning to wonder if the chief of staff had also struck her head during the fall and was possibly mentally altered when another voice joined the mix.
“Dr. Brunson? Are you alright?”
Another woman was coming toward them; she was older than Isabel, but younger than Brunson, and she wore blue scrubs beneath her winter coat. Isabel did not know her, but Nick said, “Hey, Dr. Cannon. She just took a pretty bad fall, and she won’t let us help her up.”
Isabel fully expected the other doctor to insist that Brunson let Nick help her, but instead, Dr. Cannon looked between the two med students for a moment and then said, “I can take it from here. You two go on home. Here, Holli.”
Gently nudging Nick aside, the younger doctor bent down and put her arm around Brunson. To Isabel’s surprise, Brunson did not recoil this time, but let her. Still on the ground, Dr. Cannon looked up, and when she saw that the two students were still standing there, staring at her, she added, “Drive safely.”
She was clearly insinuating that they should leave. Shrugging, Nick finally gave up and made his way back over to Isabel. She gave him a questioning look, and he returned it with one that was equally clueless. “I guess we’ll go,” he muttered, taking her arm again.
She felt bad about leaving Dr. Brunson on the ground, no matter how spiteful the older doctor could be, but when she chanced a look back over her shoulder, Dr. Cannon had Brunson sitting up and was talking to her quietly. She appeared to be okay.
“You wanna come over to my place for awhile?” asked Nick, when they finally reached her car.
Isabel really just wanted to sleep, but she hadn’t seen her boyfriend all day, except for the brief few seconds they’d crossed paths at the elevator, and she knew that with him working in surgery this semester, their time together might be scarce as it was. Besides, it would be good to talk to him for awhile, get some of her feelings out before she tried to sleep.
“How about you come over to my place?” she suggested. “I can make us some cocoa.”
Nick smiled. “Cocoa sounds awesome.”
+++
Kevin walked towards the lounge, heading for a final half cup of coffee and reviewing the Buckley case in his head. Could he have done things differently? Acted faster, more decisively? Had he waited too long to call Brunson?
No, he concluded. He'd done everything he knew of to save the boy. Even Brunson had told him there wasn't anything else to be done. Still, the loss hurt.
He opened the door to the lounge and was taken aback by the sound of muffled crying. There, head bowed and faced covered, was Nick's friend, the curly-haired student from earlier. Not knowing what to say, he simply walked over to the coffee machine and grabbed a Styrofoam cup. There was a hitch in the crying, and he turned.
The young man's eyes were red as he desperately tried to wipe the wetness from his cheeks. Sniffling loudly, he said, “S-sorry, Doctor. I didn't mean to...”
“It's okay,” Kevin replied smoothly. “I take it you had a rough day?”
“Yes, sir,” came the miserable reply. Another sniffle.
“What's your name? I know you're Carter's friend, but-”
After a fleetingly puzzled look, the young man said, “My name's Justin. Timberlake.”
“Justin. Right.”
“You're not gonna- gonna report me or anything, are you?” he said shakily.
“Report you? For what?” Kevin asked, surprised.
“For being... well... like this. I mean...”
Kevin mixed sugar into his cup. “We all have bad days, Justin. It's part of the territory, something you have to learn to live with.”
“But there was this girl… it was so unfair; she was in this accident, and now her whole life is messed up forever,” he said tightly.
“At least she has a life,” Kevin replied flatly after a moment.
Justin sniffled once more. “Well, yeah, I guess...”
“The hardest part of being a doctor is knowing that you can't save them all, you can't wave a magic wand and have happy endings all the time. You have to accept that, and find a way to cope.”
“I don't see anyone else crying like some wimp,” Justin said bitterly.
“I think it just proves that you're human, that you care about other people. That's not a bad thing. Far from it. Without compassion, without true caring, we'd be nothing more than robots or machines.” He tested his coffee, finding it acceptable. “Tell me, when Dr. Brunson was quizzing you today, did you actually know the answers?”
“Yeah,” he said, looking down. “Well, most of them. But I got flustered.”
“Your emotions got the best of you, in other words. It's the same here. You're going to have to figure out how to channel your emotions into something productive. If you can't do it, or aren't willing to work at it, then you aren't cut out to be a doctor.”
Justin remained silent.
“Think about it,” Kevin said, putting a lid on his cup and snapping it in place. “Being a doctor isn't something you can take on lightly. It's not a temporary job, it's a lifetime career. Be real sure it's something you truly want to commit to, because believe me, it's not easy.”
He was almost to the door when Justin spoke.
“Are you glad you became a doctor?”
Kevin didn't hesitate. “Every day, Justin. Every day.”
+++
All Risha Veers wanted was to go home. It had been a long, tiring day. Too many people slipping on the ice, or being reckless enough to drive in the dangerous icy weather. She headed outside. It was good to go home, even if it was cold and alone.
From her pocket, she took out a salt shaker with a smile. Remembering was easy; it was when she forgot he was gone that really killed her. Risha stared at the object in her hand wistfully. Some things, she just couldn’t forget…
The young redhead ran to her class hurriedly. Who cared about the snow? She was going to be so late. Again. Damn that alarm!
The cold nipped at her face, making her cheeks seem rosy. She tried to be careful, but she felt herself lose balance on the icy ground and fell flat on her behind as the students walking back laughed at her. She turned bright red.
“Great start today, Risha,” she scolded herself quietly.
A hand came into her view. “Want some help?” a kind voice offered. She looked up to see a gentle face, a sympathetic gaze that held no false pretenses. She smiled and took his hand, letting him help her up.
“Thanks,” she said shyly, hoping her cheeks would stop feeling so warm soon.
“I’m John.” He grinned.
“My name’s Risha. Nice to meet you.”
“Want to know a trick for not falling? I’ve never tried it as I was racing somewhere though,” he joked with a chuckle.
Risha couldn’t help but smile. “Oh yeah? What?”
He pulled out a salt shaker, waving a hand around it like it was a lump of gold in his hand. “Ta-da!”
She laughed. “A salt shaker…?”
John shook some on the sidewalk around them. “Yep, makes it less slippery.” He handed the salt shaker to her. “You can have mine; I have spares at home.”
“What’s the catch?”
He laughed, his smile bright and full of life. “We meet for cocoa tomorrow afternoon. I’d say morning, but I have Child Development then.”
Risha nodded. “I’d like that.” She caught sight of her watch with a groan. “I am so late.”
He wrote his number on her arm and smiled. “We’ll talk,” he winked and headed off to his own class. She watched him go, class forgotten again as she stared down at the salt shaker in her hand…
… the same one that was in her hand now. So many years later, and she still had it; she’d kept it as her prized possession.
She was lost in the memory so much that she didn’t hear Kevin approach her, as she shook some salt in front of her. Then she looked up. He smiled, his jade eyes dazzling in the winter night light.
“Hey.”
“Hey. If you don’t mind me asking… what’s with the salt shaker?”
Risha grinned as her red hair blew in the wind. “Just a trick I learned for weather like this.”
As Kevin looked after her in curiosity, she headed off into the cold, warmed by times before.
+++
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