by Risk, Mona
She glanced at Marc.
He winked and nodded. Go, Holly.
She placed the silver intubating blade into the infant’s mouth and slipped the endotracheal tube down his throat as she watched to make sure she was past the vocal cords and into the trachea.
“Done.” She released the breath she’d been holding.
Marc gave her an approving glance. Dr. Morey took over. They worked on Brendon for what seemed like an eternity. Marc’s soothing presence eased her stress. She performed her delicate tasks with more calm than she’d ever known.
No one talked but Dr. Morey, who gave orders in a polite voice. At the end of the procedure, he rested a sharp gaze on each one of them. “Good job.” He turned toward Brendon’s father and grandfather. “If he survives the next few days and stabilizes, I’ll come back to do the arterial switch.”
While her brain struggled with Dr. Morey’s words, Holly’s gaze snapped toward Spencer Barnes. He stood pop-eyed and frozen, hit by the uncertain fate of his newborn son. His broad shoulders hunched as his eyes focused on the radiant warmer where his baby teetered between life and death.
His job done, Dr. Morey left the room. Brendon’s father and grandfather slipped their masks off and prepared to follow him.
“He’s arrested.” Marc’s voice paralyzed them in place. “Code blue.”
Both father and grandfather plunked their masks back on their faces with shaky hands and approached the warmer bed. “Dr. Collier,” the grandfather called.
Holly glanced at the monitor, her breath stuck in her throat. The baby’s heartbeat oscillated, shrank, and tapered.
Holly bent over the warmer.
What happened?
Her stomach clenched with the first hint of panic. She looked at Marc, at Brendon, the monitor, and back at Marc. The infant was already intubated.
She was going to lose him.
Her worst nightmare came back to haunt her.
A baby dying at my hands. For the second time.
Her mind blanked as she gazed at the heart line flattening on the monitor.
“Holly.” Marc scooted next to her and squeezed her hand hard. Painfully. “It could be Paulito. Do it.”
Do it. Do it.
The words reverberated in her brain like echoes in a rock cavern.
“Resuscitation.” She snatched the self-inflating bag the nurse presented her and secured its mask on the baby’s face. The monitor line vibrated and undulated. The infant’s heart was picking up. But it could stop again any time.
Paulito’s cheerful face filled her mind.
It could be Paulito.
She was the senior neonatologist. Dr. Morey was gone. She had to save this baby.
“Dopamine stat,” she ordered, a hiccup scratching her throat. She continued the resuscitation process until the preemie’s heart resumed a steady rate, and then she injected the powerful medicine to keep the blood pumping.
Her gaze met Marc’s, gratitude filling her heart. He’d shaken her out of lethargic panic at the right moment. She was back in control. “Echo, stat.”
The echogram showed that the left ventricle was scarcely moving, pushing out a slight percentage of the blood it contained. She pointed to the screen. “The blood from the rest of the body is backing up in his lungs and stagnating everywhere else. The dopamine should help. And we’ll keep him on a ventilator.”
“Thank you, Dr. Collier,” Spencer Barnes said in a hoarse voice.
Don’t thank me. I almost let your son die.
Holly nodded, but her lips pursed behind her mask as she ordered the nurse to wheel the warmer bed to the NICU.
When the baby’s relatives and medical staff left the OR, Holly pressed her back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. She sat there, her knees bent up, her forehead tucked in her hands.
“Holly?” Marc’s voice reached through her daze.
“I almost killed him.” She couldn’t control her shaking. “Incompetent doctor. That’s what I am.”
“No, you’re not.” Marc crouched in front of her and pushed her hands away from her face. “Look at me, Holly. You saved that baby.”
Holly raised her arms and stared at her open palms. “He was in my hands and I panicked. I was going to let him die. I’d have lost him without you. Like the other baby.”
“You’re the one who resuscitated him.” Marc gently squeezed her shoulders. “Stop blaming yourself. You panicked for a sec. I don’t know a single doctor who hasn’t faced a similar situation at one point or another.”
“Have you?” She sniffled, unable to believe that Marc had ever been nervous in surgery.
“Of course. I’ve been scared stiff. And I’ve endangered a patient because of my fear. But like you, I took control and overcame my panic.”
His smile warmed her heart. “Thank you, Marc.”
“You saved him, Holly. Now, you know you can do it.” His gaze scanned her face. “Feel better?”
She nodded. “Thanks. Much better.”
Gradually she wound down, flexed her shoulders, relaxed. Straightening, she rubbed her forehead in relief. “I’ll take a fifteen-minute break, then I’ll settle in the NICU to watch him.” She tossed her surgical garb in a trash basket and walked to the pre-op room to wash her hands. “Would you come with me for a coffee?”
He’d just helped her through a nightmarish situation. She needed to be with him, to talk to him.
Please, Marc. Come with me.
Marc averted his gaze as he snatched off his cap. “I’m sorry. I don’t have time. I’m scheduled for two more surgeries. You go ahead.” He followed her to the sink while she digested his reasons.
His words made sense, although his voice sounded different, now. Flat and controlled.
“Will I see you before you fly home?” Her pulse raced as she controlled the impulse to throw her arms around his neck and put her head on his shoulder. God, she was pathetic.
But seriously he couldn’t leave, go to Puerto Rico and meet Reina, before Holly cleared the air between them. But when? She was still on call for the next twenty-four hours.
He raised his arms, palms open. “I’ll call my sister again tonight before I make a decision.”
She stifled a sigh. “Give me a buzz. Let me know how your grandmother is doing.”
“Of course. But you’ll be very busy with the Barnes case. Bye.” He grabbed her shoulders. Her eyes rounded hoping for...anything that could bring them close again.
He gave her a kiss on the forehead, turned, and headed toward his office.
A restrained kiss on the forehead? After the magical lovemaking they shared a few hours ago?
Rooted in place, Holly stared at his back, hating his aloof attitude and the uneasiness that had crept between them. She hadn’t imagined his sudden reserve, the way they walked on eggshells around each other. Now, she was terrified of losing Marc again. By her own doing.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A few minutes later, Holly sat at a corner table in the cafeteria with an open Neonatology book and an untouched plate of salad in front of her. She absently played with her fork. Her mind drifted over the blurred lines of the book as desperation swelled in her throat, but she suppressed the urge to cry and feel sorry for herself.
“Hi, beautiful.” Chris slid into the chair across from her and looked closely. “What a deep scowl. Something wrong?”
“Not at all.” Holly’s fingers clutched the fork as she plastered a smile on her lips and shrugged. “I have good news. Today Dr. Morey was here. Brendon’s doing better. In two weeks, Dr. Morey is coming back to perform the arterial switch.”
“Glad your patient made it so far. How’s your babysitting going on? Not too tired?”
“Not at all. Paulito is adorable.”
“But you don’t look too happy? Why is that?” Chris squinted behind his glasses.
She couldn’t confide in Chris, who’d always considered Marc to be an incorrigible womanizer. “Too much pressure. Tha
t’s all.”
“I see. You’re too busy taking care of the Suarez men and not paying enough attention to yourself. Are you on call Friday night?”
She shook her head, tapping her fork on the table.
“How about dinner and a show?”
Going out with Chris sounded like an acceptable idea to uplift her gloomy mood. Maybe it was time to start living again. Rubbing shoulders with Marc unbalanced her equilibrium. Granted, she was in love with him. A desperate situation since he didn’t love her. Nausea roiled in her stomach.
If Marc wanted to avoid her, she’d make it easier for him.
On the other hand, she couldn’t let Reina snatch him from under her nose. Exasperated by the dilemma and her own indecision, she bit her lip.
“Is it so difficult to decide?” Chris asked, an ironic smile stretching his lips.
Holly rolled her eyes. He had no idea how difficult. “I’ll think about it.”
To run after Marc, or wait and risk losing him?
“Think about it seriously.” A besotted expression played over Chris’s face as he squeezed her hand.
Should she purge her hopeless love for Marc? The only cure was to find someone else. A boyfriend who could pamper her and make her forget Marc’s unforgettable kisses.
Chris seemed eager to fill the spot. The thought knotted her stomach painfully.
Chris could never replace Marc in her heart.
No man could.
“I’ll see you later,” she said as she left for the NICU, her heart heavy.
On her way to the NICU, she grabbed a candy bar and nibbled on it, the sweet taste of chocolate on her tongue a soothing balm for her rattled nerves. She’d have to confront Marc.
How? When she was stuck in the hospital and he would leave soon. She entered the scrub room appended to the NICU, scrubbed, and donned a sterile gown.
As she bent over Baby Brendon’s isolette to check him, she thought about Marc’s efficient support during the baby’s surgery. In a way, he’d saved her career today. That same career she’d flung in his face as being more important than him or Paulito. Yet Marc hadn’t resented her. In spite of her rejection, he’d been as protective and helpful toward her as he’d been toward his ailing grandmother.
Get real, Holly. Marc didn’t need her. He could have a tribe of beautiful women at his beck and call. All young, pretty, and accomplished, ready to cherish him and provide him with a brood of babies. All approved by his omnipotent grandmother. Yet he had pushed them away during his last trip to San Juan, the same way he pushed Jenna out of his office and refused Reina.
I’m partial to tall, honey-blonde neonatologists with turquoise eyes. And I know only one woman who matches my very specific taste.
Like a knight in shining armor he was ready to brave his dying Abuelita to marry Holly. How could she have blindly missed that?
Holly’s gloved hands shook as she slid them inside the incubator where Baby Brendon slept. This tiny infant had helped her realize Marc truly loved her. She wanted to run and call Marc, but Brendon still needed her. She owed him big.
Baby Brendon, I pray that you live.
The NICU door opened. A nurse pushed in a patient in a wheelchair, Dr. Joan Barnes, in a white gown. A pole rolled behind her with an IV bag hooked to her arm. “How’s my baby?” Dr. Joan asked.
“Improving. His color is better, and his blood pressure is stable,” Holly said, measuring each word.
“Give me numbers,” her former mentor ordered.
Oh dear, Dr. Barnes was not Holly’s usual parent. The casual reassuring sentences learned in med school wouldn’t do for her. “Temperature low, 96.5, heart rate 170, BP 80 over 50,” Holly recited, then paused and glanced at Dr. Barnes. After all, Dr. Barnes was the mother of a very sick baby. Could she continue to act the tough doctor?
Holly’s heart tightened and her throat constricted, looking at the newly delivered mother.
Joan closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then she focused a professional gaze on her son. “I wish I could take him in my arms. It would ease his stress. Has Dr. Morey put any restrictions on holding him, if I’m very careful?”
Her mentor was a brilliant doctor. Holding the baby in her arms for a moment might help him tremendously. “No restrictions, as long as we don’t disturb the tubes. Let me bring you closer.”
Holly wheeled Joan next to the incubator. With extreme care, she eased the baby out of the isolette. Working around the multiple patches to avoid displacing the tubes attached to the tiny body, Holly handed him to his mother.
Tears pooled in Joan’s eyes as she pressed her infant against her heart. “You’ll be fine. I’ll help you.” She turned her head toward Holly. “I’m going to be discharged in a few days, but I’ll come to spend time here with Brendon. I want to help him get stabilized for his big surgery.”
“By all means.”
“Thank you, Dr. Collier.” Joan fixed a sharp look at her. “You seem to be doing well career-wise. Married?”
Holly suppressed a smile. Even in her pathetic condition, Dr. Barnes remained the assertive leader. “Nope.”
“Don’t wait too long, my dear. We devote the best years of our life to studying and working, and then we sweat blood and tears to live a normal life.” Joan’s lips stretched in a bitter line and she sniffed. “I’ve waited too long to have a baby. Trust me. A career is not enough to fill your life. If you find a good man, grab him when you’re still young and build a family.”
Count on Dr. Barnes to go straight to the heart of the matter.
Holly sucked in a deep breath, now sure of her decision. One more time, Dr. Barnes had proved to be the best mentor. “Yes, Dr. Barnes. I’ll immediately go and grab my good man.”
She’d fly with him to Puerto Rico and meet his wonderful meddling family.
Dr. Barnes had lowered her head to smile at her son and forgotten about the rest of the world. Holly’s pager buzzed. She was needed in OR, stat, as usual.
****
As soon as she entered the OR, Holly paused, her eyebrows arched in surprise. “Marc, you’re still here?”
The expectant mother hadn’t been wheeled in, but Marc came straight to her. “My last surgery for the day. How are you doing now?”
“I’m good. I need to talk to you.” She lowered her mask away from her face and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Anything wrong with Baby Barnes?”
“No. He’s doing well. I just left him with his mother. Dr. Barnes wants to personally take care of him. Marc, I want to tell you—”
“What? How come she’s up and around?”
For a second Holly lost track of her thoughts. “She’s not. The nurse brought her in a wheelchair to the NICU.”
“Good. Her presence may help her baby.”
“Yes. Yes, but—”
“I called Gabriella. Abuelita is improving. But I’ll be leaving tonight,” Marc said as they wheeled the patient in. Dr. Halsdale and his team of nurses and residents followed. “You should forget about any distractions now and concentrate on your studies.”
The nerve of the man. Holly glared, unable to believe he was the one advising her to ignore distractions. He, the supreme source of her distraction. “Damn it, will you stop interrupting? I have to tell you—”
“Well, Dr. Collier, Dr. Suarez,” the obstetrician barked while everyone stared, and Holly’s cheeks flushed. “How long are we going to have to wait for you to finish your little chat?”
“We’re ready, sir,” Marc said as he strode to the head of the gurney.
He had a lot of cheek. She wanted to strangle him.
And she wanted to tell him she loved him.
From his place, he turned toward her and tapped his finger on his masked face. She gasped. Her mask still dangled on her neck. She muttered every curse she knew while she adjusted the forgotten mask in place and received Dr. Halsdale’s ironic glance.
“Thirty-eight-week gestation. The water sac broke, and
the baby is breech,” Dr. Halsdale instructed.
Marc administered the anesthesia. He clearly didn’t have trouble focusing his attention on the monitor and the patient.
Holly took a deep breath, counted to ten and exhaled, determined to ignore him.
Dr. Halsdale proceeded with the C-section. A moment later, he handed the nurse a good size baby.
Holly sighed with relief. This delivery had been a piece of cake in spite of the C-section. Exactly what she needed in her present nervous state. It looked as if someone up there had listened to her prayer. The baby was at least seven pounds and his vitals as normal as could be. “You can take him to the regular nursery. No need for NICU,” she told the nurse and waited near the door for Marc.
When the patient was wheeled out, Holly discarded her gloves and mask, and grabbed Marc’s arm. “I’m coming with you to San Juan,” she said in one rushed breath as soon as he was within earshot.
“What?” His voice came muffled by the mask he forgot to remove.
“See you at home. I need to find a sub for tonight and tomorrow. Don’t leave without me.”
He yanked her against him and pressed his masked mouth against hers. “Damn it. Wait.” He snatched off his mask, but she laughed and scooted away, her heart light now that she’d announced her decision.
She called Chris to tell him she wouldn’t be able to go out with him and left a message on his answering machine. “Can you also assign another fellow to replace me tonight and tomorrow?”
Counting on her fingers the tasks remaining to be taken care of, she stopped by the NICU to check on Brendon. He slept more peacefully than the previous day.
Joan watched him from her wheel chair. “He’s feeling better. Isn’t he?”
“Your visit has helped him. And you’ve helped me too. Thank you, Dr. Barnes. I’m going to grab my good man with both hands and never let go.”
Joan smiled. “In that case, don’t waste any more time here. Run.”
Following her advice, Holly rushed out of the NICU, skated along the hallway, and dashed to the elevator. As it opened, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Chris came out, his arm encircling Jenna’s waist.
“Holly, I need a word with you. Jenna dear, can you give me a minute with Holly.”