Second Opinion

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Second Opinion Page 7

by Alexander, Hannah


  “I already spoke with Dr. Sheldon about this.” Gina’s voice was unemotional, as if she was keeping herself under tight control. “I worked overtime today and Levi and Cody ate a late-afternoon snack at child care, so they didn’t want dinner when we got home. I was tired and I rested on the sofa in the living room. That is the last clear recollection I have until I realized I was sitting on the merry-go-round at Levi’s elementary school, several blocks from our house.” Her voice wavered.

  “It’s okay, Gina,” Rose said softly. “Take your time.”

  “My feet were already injured at that time and I don’t know how. All I have is a vague memory of fear as I searched for my children.”

  “Panic attack, perhaps?” Rose suggested. “I know you’re still kind of new here and perhaps your concern for your children’s well-being—”

  “I’ve moved before and never experienced panic attacks.” There was a note of defensiveness in Gina’s voice.

  “But I got the impression from Dr. Sheldon and your boys that this kind of thing’s happened before,” Rose said.

  Gina met her gaze, then looked at Dr. Sheldon. She swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Do you remember ever having any kind of warning signs?” Dr. Sheldon asked.

  Gina sighed and shook her head.

  Rose picked up her pen and jotted something in her notes, then laid her pen down again. “Gina, how do you feel about an overnight guest?”

  Gina looked up again, obviously startled. “Overnight? You mean—”

  “I mean that in order to keep the same thing from happening again, we will need to either request that the court have Levi and Cody temporarily removed from the home on an emergency basis—”

  Gina gasped and grabbed the table edge as she came part way out of her chair. “No! You can’t—”

  “We don’t want that either,” Rose said quickly. “Another option is for Natalie to stay with you and your children until we can set up somethin’ else.” She gestured to the IIS therapist, who had observed the interaction in silence from her end of the table.

  The young woman watched Gina with an expression of gentle concern. “I’d be glad to stay with you tonight to make sure the children will be okay if you have another episode.” She had a deep voice, husky but soft.

  Lauren’s stomach cramped suddenly. She picked up her soda and took another sip, trying once more to will the nausea away.

  “This would also give you some time for your feet to heal,” Rose continued. “Ordinarily, we’d try to bring another adult family member into the picture but you don’t have family, right?”

  “None.” Gina’s reply came a little too quickly.

  Lauren’s nausea grew worse. Her mouth started to water. She pressed the can against her temples and neck, taking several quick breaths. Not now.

  “Later we’ll try to set up an emergency plan with Mrs. Walker.” Natalie gestured to Gina’s next-door neighbor, Agnes Walker, who had brought the children in tonight. “She’s willing to be on call in case you or the children need her. We’ll set up appointments with your physician for a complete physical work-up. We will also require you to have a psychological screening.”

  “A psychological exam? You want me to go to a psychiatrist?”

  None of Lauren’s attempts to stave off the nausea worked this time. The cramps grew worse and her stomach heaved. Gina had just turned to her, eyes filling with tears, with one hand reaching out to her when Lauren had to push back from the table. She covered her mouth with her hand and ran from the room.

  ***

  Grant looked up in alarm as Lauren rushed out. Why hadn’t he ordered the nausea med before the meeting?

  “Is Lauren going to be okay?” Rose asked.

  “I’ll check on her in a minute,” he assured her. He turned his attention to their patient, whose facade of control had slipped away, leaving her teary-eyed and shaky, especially after Lauren’s abrupt departure. “Gina, you need to understand that we are only trying to do what’s best for you and your children. Rose and Natalie are attempting to create a support network for you so that—”

  “You’re the ones who don’t understand.” Gina’s voice wobbled. She swallowed hard and took a breath. Before she spoke, she gave Rose a look of entreaty. “Before suggesting anything else you threatened to take my children away from me.”

  “What we’re talking about is providing a safety net for your children should you have another episode like tonight’s,” Rose said.

  Gina bit her lower lip and looked back down at the table. “By threatening to take my children, you’re forcing me to do whatever you say. You’re holding me hostage.”

  “I’m sorry if it sounded that way.”

  “I don’t like the idea of some stranger coming into my house and telling me how to take care of my children.”

  “I understand that,” Rose said. “I’m a single mother myself. Would it help you to know that four people have already volunteered to be on call over the next few weeks in case you run into a crisis?”

  Gina’s lips parted in surprise. She looked around at the others in the room.

  “We will arrange a schedule so there will always be someone available,” Natalie said. “Dr. Sheldon has given us his numbers for both office and home. The same with Archer Pierce.” She gestured toward Agnes Walker. “Your neighbor will step in whenever you need her. Lauren McCaffrey was the first one tonight to ask if she could be a part of the team. I will be available for you twenty-four/seven and I’ll be spending a lot of time with you in these next few weeks. You have some friends who want to be there for you, Gina. You’re not nearly as alone as you think you are.”

  Slowly, Gina met Rose’s gaze again and then she looked at Natalie. She blinked back tears and her chin trembled. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Tell me what I need to do.”

  ***

  The ER was peaceful at last. Grant completed his last chart, placed it on top of the stack, and walked down the short, broad hallway to the exam room where Lauren rested. At her insistence, he had left the door ajar earlier so she could hear what was going on in case they got busy.

  He knocked, then at her soft reply he pushed the door open and stuck his head inside. “How are you feeling?”

  She started to sit up. “Better. The shot worked wonders. Do you need me?”

  “Stay put. Muriel has everything under control.”

  She sighed in obvious relief. “Thanks. Whatever this virus is, it’s nasty. I don’t understand—I had my annual flu shot.”

  “And we know how few viruses those cover.” He walked to the sink, dampened some paper towels, then folded them and placed them on her pale forehead.

  Her clear green eyes closed and her face relaxed. “Thanks, Dr. Sheldon. You’d make a good nurse. Has Gina left yet?”

  “Yes. Natalie took her and her boys home about thirty minutes ago. Gina said to tell you thanks.”

  Lauren gave him a sleepy grimace. “I abandoned her.”

  “She understood. She was concerned about you. Mrs. Piedmont went home, too,” he said softly.

  Lauren’s face relaxed further and her lips parted as her breathing deepened. Good. The medicine would help her sleep. Maybe she would feel better when she woke up.

  Grant didn’t leave immediately but stood watching her in silence for a few seconds. With her blond hair loose and splayed out across the pillow and her face relaxed, she could almost pass for a teenager. But she had the heart of a seasoned nurse. He had known last night, the first time he worked with her, that they would make a good team.

  It still surprised him how many times she anticipated his orders and how quickly she met the needs of the patients. She did not grow cranky or irritable even when the volume picked up. He appreciated her gift of gab, especially since she always seemed to say the right thing to put the patients at ease.

  He shut the door behind him as he left to check on Evan Webster. Lauren had somehow convinced the teenager’s parents to take their argum
ent to a private conference room. Evan probably wished they’d disappear for good. Poor kid.

  Grant slipped into exam room eight, managing not to wake its occupant. The monitor continued to beep, its reassuring screen showing a normal sinus rhythm. Wisps of brown hair lay across Evan’s forehead in damp tendrils, eyelashes fanning above his cheeks. All the lines of anxiety had disappeared with slumber until only the appearance of childhood innocence remained.

  There had been so many times when Grant wanted desperately to lift the cares of the world from the shoulders of these young ones. He wanted to bar the doors and protect them from the anger and bitterness of mismanaged parenting and divorce and the seduction of the dark side of life. But what made him think he could help? Without Annette’s loving guidance he didn’t even know how to help Brooke and Beau heal from their grief.

  A slight sound from the bed drew his gaze back to Evan’s face. The boy’s eyes were open and blinking sleepily. He yawned, stretched his arms, and caught sight of Grant.

  “I’m sorry,” Grant said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Evan looked around the room cautiously. When he saw no one had accompanied Grant the tension eased from his face. “So, you going to spring me now?”

  Grant stepped over to the bed. “Not yet. All your vitals look good but I don’t want to take any chances with you.”

  Evan nodded and gave him a tentative smile. It transformed his face. The kid had dimples and a cleft chin and sparkling brown eyes.

  “I hope you told them where you got the speed.”

  “I told them.” The smile disappeared. “Peregrine. I think it’s some stupid street name. He’s this guy who cruises the streets with high-school kids on Friday and Saturday nights. He’s got to be the pusher.”

  “He’s a friend of yours?”

  Evan shook his head. “No way.”

  “I thought you said your friend gave you the pills.”

  “Peregrine gave them to my friend in the first place. Passed them out free. Isn’t that what a pusher does to get people hooked?”

  Grant nodded. “It’s a typical sales tactic all across America, only this kind is deadly. Did you give the police your friend’s name?”

  “Yes.” Evan sighed. “Now my friends won’t have anything to do with me. They barely put up with me as it is.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I’m a grade ahead of all my old classmates.” He shrugged. “It gets lonely sometimes. A guy’s got to have somebody to hang out with.”

  Grant refrained from saying that the wrong friends can be worse than having no friends.

  “I guess my parents think I’m a drug addict.”

  “I doubt it. They got a scare tonight.”

  “They hate each other.”

  “You’re not the object of their hatred.”

  “Tell them that.”

  “I think they know it. They need to realize you’re taking the brunt of their antagonism.”

  Evan closed his eyes and his lids fluttered as if he was holding back tears. “What am I supposed to do about it? I’m not even old enough to drive, so it isn’t like I can get out of the house. When I’m at Mom’s all she can do is whine about my uptight dad. When I’m at Dad’s he’s always pumping me for information about the guy Mom’s dating.”

  “I hope they realize why you took those pills tonight.”

  Evan blinked up at him. “Why is that?”

  “You already told your father. You’re struggling with the divorce and your parents’ hostility. I want to make sure you don’t change your mind about taking more pills when the adults aren’t around. That’s what I did.”

  Evan’s gaze focused. “You?”

  “Illegal drugs existed when I was in high school, too,” Grant said dryly.

  Evan frowned and rose up on his elbows. “What happened? Did you get hooked?”

  “I did.”

  Evan’s eyes widened and he sat up. “Really?”

  “Really. It was hard to break the hold drugs had on me. I wouldn’t want you to go through that.” While Evan was sitting up, Grant checked his vitals, listened to his heart and breathing. He was satisfied with the boy’s progress. Soon he could go home—wherever that might be tonight.

  When Grant walked out of the room he was surprised to find Archer standing there, arms crossed over his broad chest, leaning against the wall. They nodded to each other and Archer pushed away from the wall to walk beside Grant. The only sounds they heard were the muffled beeps of Evan’s monitor and the click of computer keys down the hallway at the central desk—and Archer’s squeaky rubber-soled shoes. For this moment it was peaceful.

  “I heard what you told Evan,” Archer said.

  Grant looked at him. “There’s not much privacy in a small-town ER.”

  “I was just going in to check on him myself. It took a lot of guts to tell him what you did. You accomplished more in there talking to that kid for a few minutes than I did with the whole family earlier. I’m sorry I didn’t do better.”

  Grant slowed his steps. “Were your parents divorced?”

  Archer blinked. “My parents? No. I can’t imagine anyone with a happier marriage.”

  Grant lowered his voice. “Were you ever addicted to drugs?”

  “No.”

  “I was on both counts.”

  “Then apparently that’s what it took for you to reach Evan.”

  “Being a drug addict and the product of a broken home isn’t anything to be proud of.”

  “Not until you bare your underbelly and risk your reputation just to help a hurting kid,” Archer said. “That changes everything.”

  Grant shook his head, haunted by old frustrations as he thought about Evan. “Nothing ever really changes. Kids still get beaten up by their own parents and allow themselves to be tricked into believing lies.”

  “And then along comes someone like you, who opens his heart to all those people who’ve been caught by the lie.”

  Grant stopped walking and turned to take a closer look at Archer Pierce, at the direct, blue-eyed gaze filled with a gleam of…what? Admiration?

  “I saw how patient you were with Cecile Piedmont and how gentle you were with Gina Drake,” Archer said. “I saw the way you handled the Websters without further upsetting Evan.”

  “I’m the doctor in this ER. That sometimes gives me an aura of authority.”

  “I wish I knew how you did it. My father has always had a calming presence like that.”

  Grant frowned at the younger man. Didn’t he realize the influence he had? “That’s how it works. Heart to heart. One person at a time. You see their pain and you identify. And you listen. That’s the big trick.” Grant shrugged and looked away. He’d shared more than he had intended. “I worked in a busy ER in St. Louis. It felt like an assembly line. They expected a doctor to listen to his patients for sixty seconds and be able to diagnose. But I’ve found over the years that I like to give them more than a minute. It took some hard lessons before I learned.”

  A slow smile spread across Archer’s face. “Ever thought about being a pastor?”

  The question startled Grant. “Never.” Enough sharing for one day. “Pastoring’s your job.”

  “I checked on Lauren. She’s fast asleep,” Archer said.

  Grant felt a twinge of something when he thought of Lauren McCaffrey. Her soft friendly voice, her gentleness with Levi, her admiration for Archer all touched him. That was unusual. He felt almost guilty, as if his admiration for a beautiful woman was something sinful.

  “The drug I gave made her groggy,” he told Archer. “Why don’t you go home and rest while you can? If we need you we can call you back in. There’s no predicting what could happen here between now and morning.”

  Chapter 8

  Archer stepped through the front door of the beautifully decorated but very lonely parsonage and sank into the first available chair. Enough light came through the window from the street to outline the living room without swi
tching on a lamp. He wanted to rest in the silence for a moment.

  Jessica had decorated this room only a few weeks before she left on tour with a musical group from Branson. Archer felt the impact of her joyful personality every time he entered his home. He still missed her.

  “Oh Lord, where from here?” he whispered into the silence. It had been his heart’s cry for the past month—ever since Jessica tearfully returned the engagement ring. That was the day all his plans for the future took a new twist. He was still trying to sort his life into some kind of logical order.

  At thirty-three he was young to be the pastor of such a rapidly growing church, especially as a single man. He could take no credit for it. His father had been called to the ministry of Dogwood Springs Baptist Church thirty-four years ago, before Archer was born. This had always been home. When Dad retired last year, Archer was completing an interim position as a youth pastor in Branson and was falling in love with the most talented singer—and the most beautiful woman—in a town filled with talented musicians.

  It had seemed a simple choice at the time to take the position as pastor of the church family he had known all his life and to ask Jessica to marry him and serve with him.

  Now he wished he’d been more cautious before committing to either. What had made him think he could compete with the calling God had given Jessica? How could he have expected her to settle for the life of a small-town pastor’s wife when the stage beckoned for the special message she’d been chosen to give?

  The problem was that the breakup had not only devastated him but it had also put him in an uncomfortable position. His church—which had always been known for its somewhat legalistic sense of order—had called him as pastor with the implicit understanding that he would soon be a married man and that his wife would serve with him. Many of them wouldn’t have agreed even to that arrangement if he hadn’t been one of their own.

  Archer also knew that some of the older, more traditional members would have preferred an older leader. Only a few days after his breakup with Jessica, word had spread and he’d begun to hear complaints. Or maybe he’d just begun to listen to them.

 

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