Beau reached the rec room and saw the crowd in the hallway peering through the open double doors. He pushed through and saw two of the junior high teachers bent over the body of the scrawny eighth grade boy as they attempted resuscitation.
Before he could reach them and offer help the ambulance attendants came charging through the crowd with their stretcher and portable monitor unit. He could do nothing but stand and watch helplessly as they ripped aside Oak’s shirt and slapped monitor patches on his bony chest.
The rhythm didn’t change while the EMTs rushed their patient out the door toward the ambulance, following proper resuscitation protocol.
As far as Beau could tell, it did no good.
***
Gina Drake came running into the department and joined the code team. Her face was flushed, the bright strands of her short hair mussed in disarray. “Sorry I’m late,” she muttered. “I was...taking an early break.”
Lauren nodded. “The ambulance is just now pulling in.”
No one said a word when lanky Todd Lennard entered a few seconds later. Gina’s expressive face reflected more than a hint of embarrassment. Lauren didn’t want to consider what they’d been doing.
Gina looked up at her. “Lauren, you doing okay?”
“I’m fine. Thanks.” They’d had little contact the past few days. Lauren continued to battle hurt feelings. Not a word about Hardy’s death. Not a card. Not a squeeze of the hand. But Gina was fighting battles of her own and she didn’t need a cold shoulder.
They huddled at the entrance doors as the attendants wheeled the stretcher into the department. The boy had the pale skin of a cadaver. Lauren’s heart squeezed as she sensed the aura of death that surrounded him. She raced alongside the EMTs, directing them to the room and preparing to reconnect the leads to the hospital monitor. She caught a brief glimpse of Dr. Caine’s expression. His face was ashen and beads of sweat filmed his brow. The hum of the monitor and the shuffle of movements by the staff—hovering, awaiting the doctor’s first order—filled the department.
He swallowed. “Epi, one milligram, now.” He dabbed at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Get a blood gas.” His voice trembled and the tension mounted in the room. The staff was stretched to the limit and the irritating buzz of an unanswered telephone seemed louder with each ring.
Vivian rushed into the room with a chart. “His parents don’t live in town, Dr. Caine. His grandfather has temporary custody. He’s on his way in.” She leaned toward Lauren. “You know those feuding farmers who nearly came to blows last summer after their cars went over an embankment? Brisco and Scroggs? Poor old Brisco’s this boy’s grandfather.”
Caine continued orders. “Any more information from the school about what happened?” he asked Vivian.
“Not yet,” Vivian said.
“Intercept the grandfather when he arrives. We need medical information so we’ll know what to treat as soon as we resuscitate him.”
“Med Records didn’t have anything,” Vivian said.
“Find something!” His voice sounded on the verge of panic. He stared at the monitor. “Stop CPR. And get somebody to help answer the phones!”
“We don’t have any extra—”
“Just do it!”
***
The school bell rang but no one noticed. Beau eased his way past crying classmates and whispering teachers and found Brooke and Evan huddling beside Evan’s open locker with their backs to the hallway.
Evan held his cell phone to his ear then glared at it and disconnected. “Still no answer.”
“I can’t believe this,” Brooke said. “It’s crazy! What if they have, like, an emergency? We can’t have the wrong number.”
“What wrong number?” Beau asked.
Brooke whirled around and grabbed him by the arm. “Where’ve you been? We’re trying to contact the hospital and nobody’s answering.”
“Why?”
“We think Oak might have had an overdose of meth,” she said.
“Why do you think that?”
“Does it matter? We’ve got to reach the hospital and let them know.”
Beau took the cell phone and punched the number he used when he wanted to reach Lauren at work. “Tell me why you think Oakley is on meth.”
“Because we saw him with Peregrine out on the street last night,” Brooke said.
“Last night? I didn’t know you went out last night.” The telephone rang.
Evan closed his locker door. “We saw Oakley with the pusher the other morning. You know, the morning we got that picture of Peregrine, when you told us to mind our own business.”
“I didn’t tell you to—”
“I think Peregrine was setting Oakley up as another contact at school,” Brooke said.
“And you didn’t tell me? Did you call Sergeant Dalton?” Nobody was answering the phone. They would all be busy with the code. But they needed to know.
“We called the police just a moment ago,” Evan said. “Sergeant Dalton’s on his way here.”
***
It was too late. Lauren knew that even as Dr. Caine paced the crowded room like a caged panther, wringing his hands together in frustration and barking increasingly sharp orders to the code team. It had gone too long without results. The buzz of the monitor mocked them. The tension stretched so tightly that to Lauren it felt as if a physical force bumped up against her.
The telephone at Lauren’s station interrupted an order and added to the cacophony of the department.
Caine growled a curse at the offending sound and raised his voice to be heard over it.
The strident nag ended abruptly when Vivian snatched it up and snapped a warning that her nerves were frayed and this better be good. Her grumbling ceased almost immediately.
“What’s that? Who is this? Beau?”
Lauren looked up from her position beside Oakley Brisco’s left arm. She listened to Vivian’s voice.
“What kind of drug? When? The kid took an illegal drug right there at school?” Vivian whirled an about-face and waved toward Dr. Caine to catch his attention. “Beau Sheldon says the patient might’ve taken a methamphetamine—”
Caine muttered a soft curse. “What makes him think that information will do us any good at this point?”
Irritability lowered Vivian’s graying brow. “I don’t know, Dr. Caine. Maybe he’s just crazy enough to think we could actually do a successful resuscitation here in the emergency depart—”
“Hey!” Someone shouted from the reception window out of sight of the room where they hovered. “Where is everybody? Where’s Oak? Somebody lemme in there!”
Lauren recognized that voice. “Dr. Caine, that’s our patient’s grandfather.” The irascible farmer had been a patient in the ER a couple of times in the past.
The doctor stood staring at the monitor.
“Do you want me to go talk to Mr. Brisco?” Lauren asked.
Caine whispered something.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you—”
“I asked,” Caine growled, “what good it would do.” He pointed to Vivian, who was keeping the records for the code. “Time—” he looked at his watch—”twelve-ten p.m.” He snapped off his gloves and threw them in the trash. “This patient is dead.”
Without another order he stalked out to the reception area. There were murmured words, a cry of mortal pain, and then the sound of Brisco’s sobs.
Seconds later Caine swept back through the ER. “Someone help that man.” He plunged into the director’s office and closed the door. The lock clicked and there was a crash, like the sound of something being thrown against the wall.
Vivian ran out to the waiting room.
For a few more shocked seconds no one else moved. Lauren touched Oakley’s arm and could still feel the warmth of his body through the thin material of her gloves.
“That’s it?” Gina said. “He’s just letting it go?”
Todd started to pick up the mess on the floor.
“He took it longer than I expected, hon.”
The endearment became the sudden focus of the entire code team in order to block out the tragedy and loss that surrounded them.
“But he just left that poor old man out there in the waiting room crying!”
“It’s okay.” Todd spoke softly and laid a hand on her arm. “Vivian’s good at this stuff. Caine isn’t.”
“But the doctor—”
Todd placed a finger against her lips. “Shh. I’ll help Vivian.”
He walked out of the room. Lauren watched him go then looked back at Gina, who had pressed her fingers against Oak’s gradually cooling shoulder.
“The world’s gone crazy,” Gina whispered. Tears filled her eyes. Gina Drake had never been good at handling bad outcomes in the ER but lately she’d been even more tearful, more emotionally spent whenever she experienced a traumatic session.
Lauren also felt the sting especially hard so soon after Hardy’s death. She wished she could shut her emotions down for a few days but it was no use. The numbness that had given her occasional relief the past few days crumbled away and left her defenseless.
Someone touched her on the arm. She looked up into Gina’s sorrowful eyes that were still glazed with moisture. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Lauren nodded. “I’ve got work to do.” She had to call the coroner. Though Dr. Caine hadn’t instructed her to, she also needed to call the police. Since Beau was aware of the drug involvement, he would very likely call Tony Dalton himself. There would be an autopsy. Knowing Tony, there would be an immediate and complete investigation.
“Okay guys, keep everything clear for the exam,” she said. “I’ll make the calls.”
Chapter 18
On Tuesday afternoon Archer Pierce leaned over the elderly lady in the ER exam bed and said a silent heartfelt prayer for her health. It was a selfish prayer. He didn’t want to lose Mrs. Piedmont. She was one of the dearest people in the world. After the shock of Hardy’s death last week and young Oakley’s tragic death yesterday, Archer didn’t think he could face another loss.
In spite of the tension, he had to suppress a yawn. The past few days of grieving and comforting and intensive plans for his wedding this coming Saturday had robbed him of sleep. He didn’t want to disturb this patient but her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him.
“Pastor? When did you come in?”
He smiled down at the welcoming gleam in Mrs. Piedmont’s eyes. “Sorry, Cecile, I didn’t want to disturb you.” He pressed his fingers on the wrinkly flesh of her right forearm. “How are you feeling?”
She attempted a smile but couldn’t quite dislodge the grimace of pain that had set into the line of her mouth. “I’ll be fine.” She looked past him toward the doorway then gestured for him to lean closer. “I miss Dr. Sheldon.”
“So do I.”
“How is Dr. Caine taking care of his own practice and working here, too?”
“Dr. Caine’s here?”
“I saw him in the hallway.”
“Has he been in to see you?”
She shook her head. “Dr. Jonas is on duty.”
“How about a quick prayer before all your kids come barging in here to rescue you?”
There was a brusque knock at the open door and the tall white-coated form of Dr. Mitchell Caine materialized in the threshold. “Reverend Pierce, I need a word with you.”
“Does someone else need me?”
“I need to see you. Now.”
“I’ll be glad to look you up as soon as someone else comes in to sit with Mrs. Piedmont.” Archer let his words fall with gentle authority.
Mitchell pointedly checked his watch. “I’m here for a meeting with the department directors in thirty minutes. I want to see you before that.”
“If someone else is with her at that time I’ll be glad to see you. If not I can see you after the meeting.”
Caine stalked from the room.
Archer gave Cecile’s arm a reassuring squeeze and felt some of his own tension drain away. “Feeling okay?”
“Better every minute.” She laid a weathered hand over his. “I’ll let you escape as soon as you say a prayer for me.”
“You’ve got it all wrong, Cecile. You are my escape.” Still, he said a quiet prayer for God’s comfort and peace not only for Cecile but also for her grown children. They were grandparents themselves and still doted on their mother. She had developed heart problems in the spring. For her to come into the ER on her own, without one of her children forcing her to do so, was an admission of illness indeed.
Archer finished the prayer and gave Cecile a peck on the cheek, then turned to find that Lauren had joined them. She, too, was barely keeping pain at bay.
“Hey pal, how’re you holding up?” He reached a hand out to her and she took it. He drew her forward for a quick hug.
“I’ll be fine.” Her focus centered on Mrs. Piedmont’s kindly gaze.
He’d had little time to talk with her alone and he knew she was struggling with yesterday’s tragedy combined with her brother’s death. She’d missed church Sunday to attend church with the Sheldon twins in Knolls with her family.
She stepped to Mrs. Piedmont’s bed and her expression showed that she also found solace in the older woman’s presence. “Calvin’s on his way here, Cecile. He just called. Did you know he sent flowers for Hardy’s funeral? Your kids are some of the nicest people...” Her voice wobbled. She swallowed. “They take after their mom.”
Cecile reached her arms out and Lauren leaned into the comfort of them, expertly avoiding the monitor leads and oxygen line.
Archer gave Lauren’s shoulder a final pat and then stepped out into the hallway. He was curious about Mitchell’s command, though he didn’t expect the man to request his spiritual direction in any way. He had to remind himself that Dr. Mitchell Caine hadn’t always been so harsh.
When Archer entered junior high, Mitchell had been a graduating senior and the darling of Dogwood Springs. Twenty years ago, before the townsfolk deemed the older teenagers to be a dangerous influence on the younger students, their classes were all held in the same huge building. Archer had often passed Mitchell in the hallway.
Mitchell was his hero. He acknowledged young underclassmen with grace—or so Archer had felt at the time. He played basketball and football like the fearless athlete that he was and yet he was never too busy for a friendly smile or a casual wave at the kids he passed in the hallway. It made a big impact on Archer. Mitchell’s golden laughter had filled the corridors and his sense of humor was legend.
It wasn’t until Mitchell was in the middle of his family practice residency that Archer saw him again after graduation. Mitchell’s parents had been killed in a boating accident on Table Rock Lake. He came home long enough to bury them and then disappeared until after the completion of his residency.
When Mitchell returned to follow in his father’s family practice footsteps a year later, Archer noticed a difference in him—a heaviness of spirit, as if life had suddenly become too serious for him and laughter and smiles were a waste of his resources. Apparently his loss had combined with the stress of medical school and residency to steal his youthful joy.
Years later, another tragedy altered his personality for good.
Dr. Caine stood waiting for Archer in the doorway of Grant’s office, arms crossed over his chest, without a hint in his expression that he had ever been acquainted with humor. His hovering presence made Archer feel he had reverted to immature childhood.
“Are you ready now?” The raw flick of undisguised irritation threaded the man’s voice.
Archer inclined his head and stepped into the room. “So what can I help you with?”
“Have a seat.” Mitchell closed the door behind him.
While Archer obeyed the command, the doctor took a seat behind Grant’s desk. He leaned back and studied Archer for a moment. “Dr. Sheldon hasn’t seen fit to clue me in to his reasons for this little ‘prayer pr
ogram’ you pastors seem to think is so important. As the acting director I take exception to your interference in this emergency room.”
Acting director? Grant was only in St. Louis for a few days, he wasn’t dead. “I didn’t realize I was getting in your way.” Archer kept his voice calm and conciliatory but he saw the doctor’s frown. “Are you referring to my interference in particular, or to the chaplain program as a whole?”
There was a measured silence while Caine seemed to be trying to decide if Archer was mocking him. “The whole program disturbs me. I disagree with the ethics of non-medical laymen marching into this place like saviors on white horses, offering helpless patients false hope for—”
“The hope we offer isn’t—”
“Tell me something, how many patients have you prayed with since you came in this morning?”
Archer leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. He refused to allow this to become a game of intimidation. He was a grown man now. “I didn’t come into this department until this evening.”
“I saw you before lunch when I came to check on a patient of mine.”
“I was visiting a church member on the floor and stopped by for a moment to talk to Vivian about something.” He would not apologize for his presence here.
“How many members have you added to your church rolls since our new director started this program?”
“Are you asking how many people I’ve frightened into joining us for Sunday worship?”
The doctor raised his brows.
“One of our chaplain directives is to refrain from proselytizing,” Archer said. “Ordinarily, I don’t even tell patients my denomination because I’m not here to represent the Baptists, I’m here to represent Christ.”
“Christ.” Mitchell made it sound like a curse.
“I show them where they can find hope.”
“False hope.”
A few months ago Jessica had told Archer that she sometimes felt as if she could look into someone’s eyes and see a heart breaking. She said it didn’t happen until her own heart was broken for the first time. Afterward, it was easier to recognize the symptoms. Since Archer had no children he couldn’t identify with Mitchell as a father but he could imagine how his own father would feel. And he could look at Mitchell with eyes of compassion for the suffering he had experienced in the past few years.
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