by Laura Iding
“Excellent,” he murmured. His gaze was warm and she had to remind herself this wasn’t a date. Her son’s future was what mattered here, not her roller-coaster feelings for his father.
“What time?” she asked.
“We’ll go early as I know you’re not used to our customs yet. Shall we say eight o’clock?”
A wry grin tugged at the corner of her mouth because eight o’clock wasn’t at all early back home. “All right. Where should I meet you?”
“I will pick you up at your hotel. Which one are you staying at?”
“We—I’m at the Hesperia hotel,” she said, using the correct Spanish pronunciation while hoping he didn’t catch her slip.
“Excellent. There is a wonderful restaurant just a few blocks away.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m sorry, but I need to finish making rounds. Did you have any questions about the chart copies I gave you?”
She’d read through his entire stack of notes early that morning, before Tommy had woken up. “I noticed her electrolytes keep going out of whack—do you think that’s because of her head injury?”
“Yes, brain injuries cause sodium levels to drop, but try not to worry as we are replacing what she’s lost.”
She’d noticed the IV solution running through Juliet’s IV was similar to what they’d use in the U.S. Except for the equipment being a little different, the basics of medical and nursing care were very much the same.
“Thanks again, Miguel, for everything,” she said in a low voice, trying to put the depth of her feelings into words. “I’m so relieved to know my sister is in such good hands.”
“You’re very welcome, Katerina. I’ll see you tonight, yes?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. After he left, she walked back and sat down at her sister’s bedside.
She was lucky that Miguel was here. Not just because he spoke English, which was a huge help, but because she knew he was an excellent surgeon.
Ironic how fate had brought her face to face with Tommy’s father after all these years. Her previously suppressed feelings for Miguel threatened to surface and she took a long, deep breath, ruthlessly shoving them back down.
She needed to protect her heart from Miguel’s charm. And even more importantly, she needed to preserve the life she’d built with her son.
* * *
Miguel finished his rounds and then took a break to call his brother. Unfortunately, Luis didn’t answer the phone so he left his brother a message, requesting a return phone call.
He rubbed the back of his neck, debating whether he should go out to see his brother after work or not. He should have time before dinner as he wasn’t on call this evening. But at the same time, going all the way out to the farm and back would take at least two and a half hours, and he didn’t want to be late for his dinner date with Katerina.
Miguel was pleased Katerina had agreed to see him again tonight. He felt the need to make it up to her for leaving so abruptly after finding out about his father’s stroke. The night they’d spent together had been incredible. There had always been the hint of awareness between them while working together in the operating room. At times it had seemed as if Katerina could practically read his mind, instinctively knowing what he’d needed before he’d had to ask.
He’d been tempted to pursue a relationship, but had told himself it wouldn’t be fair since he wasn’t planning on staying. Maybe if things had been different…
No, he’d made his decision. He’d already given notice at the hospital that he was leaving at the end of the academic year, which was just three months away. He’d first heard about Doctors Without Borders in Madrid from one of his colleagues. He’d quickly decided that he wanted to join as well once he’d finished his training. He’d known early on he didn’t want to stay on his family’s olive farm. He’d wanted to travel. To learn about other cultures. He’d jumped at the opportunity to study in the U.S. and now couldn’t wait to join Doctors Without Borders.
So why was he torturing himself by seeing Katerina again? If he had a functioning brain cell in his head, he’d stay far away from her until her sister was stable enough for transport back home.
Katerina wasn’t the woman for him. He knew he shouldn’t measure all women against his American mother, but after living in both cultures he understood a little better why his mother had reacted the way she had. The two lifestyles were very different. Maybe if the olive farm hadn’t suffered two bad years in a row, there would have been money for vacations back in the U.S. Would that have been enough for his mother? Or would that have only emphasized her loss?
Truthfully, he couldn’t understand why his mother just hadn’t purchased a one-way ticket to New York and returned home if she’d been so desperately unhappy here. Instead, she’d stayed to become a bitter woman who’d made all their lives miserable. Until she’d unexpectedly died of an overdose, which had been determined to be accidental rather than a suicide attempt.
Miguel shook off his dark thoughts and concentrated on his patients. He loved everything about being a surgeon. There wasn’t nearly as much trauma here in Seville as in Cambridge, Massachusetts, but he didn’t mind. One thing he never got used to was losing patients.
Especially young patients. Like the twenty-five-year-old pregnant mother they’d lost during his last shift in the U.S.
After finishing his rounds on the adults in his case load, he made his way over to the children’s wing, which happened to be in the oldest part of the hospital. He wanted to visit Pedro, his young appendectomy patient. The young boy would need to stay a few days for IV antibiotics before he could be discharged.
This was the other part he loved about being a doctor in Spain. There weren’t large children’s hospitals here, the way there were in the U.S. He was glad to have the opportunity to take care of both children and adults, rather than being forced to decide between them.
“Hola, Dr. Vasquez,” Pedro greeted him when he entered the room.
“Hola, Pedro. ¿Como estas?”
“¿English, por favor? I’m fine.”
Miguel grinned and switched to English for Pedro’s sake. The youngster was part of a group of teenagers in Seville who were committed to learning English. Many of them didn’t bother, but even when Pedro had been in pain in the emergency department yesterday, the boy had informed him he was going to America one day.
“May I examine your incision?” Miguel asked politely.
Pedro frowned, probably having trouble with the word “incision”, but lifted his hospital gown anyway. “It’s healing well, no?”
“Very much so,” Miguel said, pleased to see there were no signs of infection. Although the bigger problem Pedro faced was an infection in the bloodstream from the burst appendix. “Where is your mother? I think you’ll need to stay for a couple more days yet.”
Pedro smiled broadly as he drew his hospital gown back down. “She’s caring for my younger brothers and sisters. She’ll be here soon. And I’m glad to stay, Dr. Vasquez, because you will have more time for me to practice my English with you, yes?”
Miguel couldn’t help but grin at the awkwardly worded sentence. “Yes, Pedro. We will practice while you are here, but even after you go home, we can practice when you return to clinic to see me, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Dr. Vasquez.”
Miguel went on to see his second patient, a young girl who’d sustained a compound fracture of her left arm. They had orthopedic specialists, but since the fracture wasn’t complicated he’d simply set it himself and casted it.
Marissa’s room was empty so Miguel went to find the nurse, only to discover that the young girl was getting another X-ray of her arm.
He decided to return to the I.C.U., vowing to come back to check on Marissa later, but as he reached the third floor, the entire building shook and the lights flickered and went out. It took him a moment to realize what had happened, even though he’d been through this scenario once before.
Earthquake!
* * *
Kat was about to leave the I.C.U., intending to head back to the hotel, when she felt the building shake with enough force to make her fall against the wall.
The lights flickered and then went out. She froze, waiting for them to come back on.
Juliet’s ventilator!
Instinctively, she ran back down the hall to her sister’s room, able to see somewhat from the daylight shining through the windows. She saw Miguel going into another room but didn’t veer from her path. After rushing over to Juliet’s bedside, she reached for the ambu-bag hanging from the oxygen regulator. She turned the dial up, providing high-flow oxygen as she quickly disconnected the ventilator and began assisting her sister’s breathing.
She forced herself to calm down so she wouldn’t hyperventilate Juliet, hardly able to believe that the power was still out. Didn’t they have back-up generators here? What had caused the shaking? Did they have earthquakes here? And where was everyone? She’d hadn’t seen anyone other than the glimpse of Miguel going into another patient’s room.
After what seemed like forever, the lights flickered back on, but only part way, as if conserving energy. At least Juliet’s ventilator and heart monitor came back on.
She connected the ventilator back up to Juliet’s breathing tube, but before she could go out and find the rest of the hospital staff, Miguel showed up in the doorway.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Earthquake. Nothing too serious, probably about a five or six on the Richter scale. We’ve had one similar to this before. But I need your help.”
Earthquake? She was a little shocked, but strove to remain calm. “Me? What for?”
“I’ve just been told that a very old tree fell against the corner of the building and we need to evacuate the patients. They are all pediatric patients in the children’s wing located on the fourth floor. As it is a weekend, we do not have full staffing. We could use an extra pair of hands if you’re willing to stay?”
“Of course,” she said, knowing she couldn’t simply walk away, even though she needed to know her son was safe. She was tempted to call Diana right away, except that she didn’t want Miguel to ask questions. So she promised herself she’d wait until she could steal a few minutes alone to call her friend.
“Let’s go,” Miguel said, and she followed him out of the I.C.U. and down the hall, trying to make sense of what was happening. Clearly, the earthquake must have caused the tree to fall on the hospital building. What other damage had occurred? And what about the hotel? Was everything all right there?
As they walked down the hall, she peered through the windows to look out over the city. She was relieved when she didn’t see any evidence of mass destruction. As she followed Miguel, she hoped and prayed Tommy and Diana were someplace safe from harm.
CHAPTER FOUR
KAT was horrified to see the amount of damage the building had sustained when they arrived in the children’s ward. Many of the younger kids were crying, but one older boy had already stepped up to take charge. He’d obviously gathered all the children on several beds located as far away as possible from the crumbled corner of the building.
“Good job, Pedro,” Miguel said as they rushed in. “Where’s your nurse, Elouisa?”
“I’m not sure, but I think she went to get medication,” Pedro answered. Kat was impressed that the boy spoke English and seemed to accept the responsibility of staying here with the children alone.
Miguel’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t say anything else. “Okay, then, we’ll need to transport the sickest patients down to the I.C.U. first.”
“DiCarlo is the worst, I think,” Pedro said, pointing to a boy who was lying listlessly in bed. Kat estimated there were at least a dozen kids gathered on three beds surrounding the obviously very sick boy. “Elouisa said something about how he needed more antibiotics.”
“She should have stayed here with all of you. He can get his antibiotics in the I.C.U.,” Miguel said firmly.
“I’ll take him down, but do you think it’s safe to use the elevators?” she asked warily. She didn’t mind transporting the sick child downstairs but the thought of being stuck in an elevator alone with him was scary.
Just then Elouisa returned, hurrying in with an IV bag in her hand. She came straight over to DiCarlo’s IV pump to prepare the medication.
Miguel said something to her in Spanish, which she assumed was something related to the care of the children. She responded in Spanish as well, even while she hung the IV antibiotic. When they finished their conversation, Miguel turned to her.
“Okay, you and I together will take DiCarlo in his bed down to the I.C.U. Elouisa has promised to stay with the children.” He turned to Pedro. “I am counting on you to stay here and to help Elouisa until I can return, okay? Once we have DiCarlo safe in the I.C.U., we can find other beds for the rest of you.”
Pedro nodded. “I understand Dr. Vasquez. You should have trust that I will wait here for you.”
“Good, Pedro. Thank you.”
“Give me a quick rundown on DiCarlo’s condition,” she said to Miguel as Elouisa used an old-fashioned crank to lift the bed higher off the floor so it would be easier for them to push him. “I need to understand what to watch for.”
Miguel set a small bin of emergency supplies on DiCarlo’s bed, and again she was struck by the similarities between medical care here in Seville and in the U.S. When she worked in the I.C.U., they would always take a small pack of emergency supplies on what they called road trips, when patients needed to leave the I.C.U. to go down for certain X-rays or CT scans. Miguel started pushing the boy’s bed towards the elevator as he gave a brief report.
“What started as pneumonia has turned into full-blown sepsis. He’s been fighting the infection as best he can, but he’s had heart trouble since he was born so he’s not as strong as most children his age.”
She digested that bit of information as they left the children’s ward through a long, empty hallway. As they waited for the elevator, which seemed to take a very long time, she looked down at DiCarlo’s wan features, hoping and praying he’d survive the infection.
Miguel’s impatience was obvious when he stabbed the elevator button a second time.
“Where is everyone?” she asked. Miguel’s features tightened. “We were short-staffed to begin with, but some left, wanting to check on their loved ones. I honestly didn’t think we would lose this many staff members.”
She could understand why some staff had felt compelled to leave, and worry over the safety of her son gnawed at her. She pushed her fears aside. For one thing, Diana would have called her if something bad had happened. Their hotel was new and sturdy. Surely they’d be safe. The elevator arrived and she helped Miguel push DiCarlo’s bed inside. The doors closed and she pushed the button for the second floor when suddenly the boy began coughing so hard his face turned bright red.
“Miguel, he’s having trouble breathing,” she said urgently, reaching for the dial on the oxygen tank and turning the knob to give him more oxygen. “Do we have a pediatric ambu bag?”
“Yes, along with intubation supplies.” Miguel opened the small bag of emergency supplies and pulled out the ambu bag. “We can intubate if we have to.”
She hadn’t assisted with an intubation since the time she’d worked in the I.C.U., but she nodded anyway. She gently placed the small face mask over DiCarlo’s mouth and nose, and used the ambu bag to give him a couple of breaths.
DiCarlo squirmed beneath the ambu bag, fighting her at first, but then abruptly went limp, and she quickly reached over to feel for a pulse. “Miguel? His pulse is fading fast.”
“I’ll have to intubate him now, rather than waiting until we reach the I.C.U.” He took the laryngoscope in his left hand and then gently slid the endotracheal tube into DiCarlo’s throat. She took Miguel’s stethoscope from around his neck and listened to the boy’s lungs to verify the tube was in the correct place. Thankfully, it was. She quickly connected the ambu
bag tubing to the end of the endotracheal tube so she could give DiCarlo several breaths.
Miguel secured the tube with tape and then gestured behind her. “Check his pulse and then push the button again. The doors have already closed.”
She’d never heard the elevator ding. She made sure DiCarlo’s pulse was stable before she turned around to hit the button for the third floor. This time it only took a couple of minutes for the doors to open.
She was very happy to see the critical care area. “Which bed?” she asked, as she walked backwards, pulling the bed as Miguel pushed, keeping one hand on the child’s endotracheal tube.
“Twelve,” he directed.
She knew the basic layout of the unit from visiting her sister and quickly pulled the bed towards the vacant room number twelve. Nurses came over and assisted her with getting DiCarlo connected to the heart monitor overheard.
“Gracias,” she murmured, smiling weakly. She glanced up and was reassured to note that DiCarlo’s pulse had stabilized. Miguel spoke to them in Spanish, and they quickly brought over a ventilator. She stepped back, allowing the staff room to work.
Crisis averted, at least for the moment.
She hesitated, not sure if she should go back down to the children’s wing alone or wait for Miguel. He was still examining DiCarlo, and the grave concern in his gaze as he listened to the boy’s lungs wrenched her heart.
Would he look at Tommy like that?
Just then he glanced up and caught her staring at him. She swallowed the lump in her throat, holding his gaze for a long moment. Watching him, the way he was so gentle with DiCarlo, gave her hope and reassurance that he would never do anything to hurt their son. Including taking him away from her.
“He’s fine for now,” Miguel said, putting his stethoscope away. “Give me a few minutes here while I make sure his orders are up to date.”
“Of course,” she murmured, turning away, her hand on her phone. Outside DiCarlo’s room, she made sure she was out of Miguel’s hearing distance before she quickly pressed the number for Diana, holding her breath while she waited for an answer. Diana’s voice brought instant relief. “Kat? Are you okay?”