Second Opinion

by Alexander, Hannah

  A smile lit her green eyes. “I’d love to.” She glanced toward the ambulance bay as the flight crew came in wheeling their gurney. “I need to give a report. If I don’t get another chance to talk to the Kimbles will you tell them I’ll be praying?”

  “Of course.” Archer watched her rush to meet the entering crew. Stacie would be on her way up in just a few moments. Time to prepare her parents for lift-off.

  ***

  The hamburgers and onion rings were cold by the time Lauren and Gina made it to the staff breakroom but Lauren was thankful they could make it at all. Normally the noon rush hit them hard on Mondays and didn’t let up the rest of the day.

  Lauren shoved the food into the microwave and reached into the fridge for soda as Gina limped to the window and stared out across the valley below them.

  “Looks like your feet are beginning to hurt,” Lauren said.

  Gina shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You could have asked off for the next couple of days to give you time to heal.”

  Gina turned from the window and pulled a chair out to sit down. “I’m too new to take any sick days and I need the money.”

  The microwave beeped and Lauren pulled out the heated, soggy food and sat across from Gina. “Your supervisor probably doesn’t even know about your injuries, does she?”

  Gina grabbed an onion ring and held it up with a grimace. It drooped and some of the coating plopped off. “No. You’re not going to tell her are you?” She didn’t give Lauren time to answer. “So why did you move to Dogwood Springs?”

  Lauren chuckled. “One thing about you, Gina Drake, you’ll never bore anybody with stories about yourself.”

  Gina smiled and sipped her soda. Lauren decided not to fight it. “You want the real reason I moved or the one I gave my parents?”

  “Both.” Gina pulled a chair to her side of the table and put her feet up, as if settling in for a good story. Lauren couldn’t keep from smiling at the childlike curiosity that suddenly filled those pretty eyes. Her expression reminded Lauren of the one on Levi’s face during her story about David and Goliath.

  “I’m thirty-five and have never been married. Does that tell you anything?” Lauren said.

  “So? Why would you want to be?”

  Lauren knew she was talking to the wrong person about marriage. “I have two older sisters and two younger brothers. All of them are happily married and have provided the doting grandparents with nine grandchildren. My mother keeps reminding me I need to start carrying my share of the load. She wants an even ten, at least. You know how parents are.”

  Gina’s smile drifted away like a stray thought. “Not normal ones.”

  Lauren repressed her curiosity. “Mine have a tendency to meddle.”

  “That’s why you left home? Really?”

  Lauren grimaced. “Let’s just say my prospects in Knolls, Missouri, were recently reduced.”

  “Why? Did all the men die?”

  “No, but the one man worth marrying got engaged to someone else.”

  “That had to hurt.”

  “And it didn’t happen until after I made a fool of myself over him.” Lauren still cringed when she remembered the way she had behaved with Lukas Bower, boldly asking him to go fishing with her, making a point to sit near him in church, going out of her way to engage him in conversation and spend time with him at work. And then he’d proposed to Mercy Richmond. “So now it seems as if my family’s biggest project is to get poor lonely Lauren married off.”

  “You’re kidding, right? You don’t look lonely to me.”

  Lauren hadn’t intended to spill her personal problems out to a person who had an overabundance of her own problems. “We all get lonely sometimes.”

  “You have four brothers and sisters and they’re all happily married?” Gina’s voice took a cynical tone. “Nobody’s divorced? Nobody’s fighting?”

  “Sure they fight. My baby brother had a lot of trouble settling down but his wife is mature enough to handle him.”

  “You told me the other night you’d love to have kids,” Gina said.

  “You bet I would. But for that I’d need a husband.” Lauren leaned forward. “Enough whining about my problems. How are things going with you? Do you have an appointment for a physical exam?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon.” Gina grimaced. “I just hope they find something. Maybe low blood sugar, even though it didn’t show up the other night or during my employment physical.” She studied Lauren for a moment. “Do you get many patients here in the ER with panic attacks?”

  “A few. Do you think that’s what you’re having?”

  “I don’t think so.” She frowned and leaned back in her chair. “I don’t think you lose your memory during a panic attack. Friday night I didn’t know where I was but I knew I was terrified.”

  “Of what?”

  “All I remember is the fear. I was looking for my children but I didn’t even know who they were. According to Levi, I was looking at him. He said I ran past him and out the door and when he called to me I didn’t seem to hear him.” Gina took the time to eat another droopy onion ring and swallow several gulps of her soda. “What if we’d lost Stacie?”

  Lauren was becoming accustomed to Gina’s sudden subject changes. “You mean how would I have felt if she would have died?”

  “Yes. I’ve assisted with a lot of codes, so I’ve seen some patients die. It’s always tough to take. But you know Stacie.”

  “I think being raised on a farm taught me a better understanding of death as a natural part of the life cycle,” Lauren said. “I learned not to be so afraid of it. I’ll never get used to it, though, especially when we lose a child. But heaven makes it easier.”

  “Heaven.” Gina’s deadpan voice gave Lauren a glimpse of her thoughts. “You wouldn’t feel that way about your own death.” It was a gentle challenge.

  “If I suddenly find out that I have some deadly disease that’s going to kill me in a few months, I’ll probably do the normal thing and grieve. But it’s a comfort to me to know God has all that under control.”

  Gina shook her head adamantly. “Nobody’s ever going to control my life again.”

  Lauren admired Gina’s independent spirit even as she felt sadness for the difficulties the younger woman faced. “Somebody else already is,” she replied softly.

  “If you’re talking about the social workers, forget it.”

  “I’m not talking about humans.” Lauren leaned forward. “My grandma used to say that if we weren’t under God’s control we could slip into dangerous waters in our lives.”

  Gina put her burger down. “Everybody in your family is a Christian?”

  “Most of them.”

  Gina’s expression held disbelief. “I wasn’t raised that way.”

  “When I realized I couldn’t do everything right in my life, I went to Someone who could. In a way, it’s like getting a second opinion when I encounter physical problems that my doctor can’t treat, only the second opinion of Jesus Christ is totally accurate.”

  Gina finished her soda and took her feet out of the chair. “So how do you like the new ER director?” Another abrupt change of subject.

  “I like him.”

  “Did you notice anything interesting about him?”

  Lauren shrugged. “What?”

  “Like he’s gorgeous and kind and single and good with patients and single.”

  Lauren laughed. “I thought you weren’t interested in getting married again.”

  “I never said anything about me. You’re the one whose mother wants you married. You’re the one who wants to have kids before it’s too late. I think he looks like Antonio Banderas—you know, that actor? Except, of course, he doesn’t have a Spanish accent or a ponytail. And he’s a whole lot younger.”

  “And?” Lauren prompted.

  Gina leaned back in her chair and smiled. “He’s not my type.”

  “What’s your type?”

  Gina shrugge
d. “I usually go for irresponsible guys who run as soon as the subject of commitment comes up. How about you?”

  “A praying man,” Lauren said. “In fact, he must be sold out enough that people who don’t share his faith would call him a fanatic.” Again, she thought of Lukas Bower. Some people had called him a fanatic. A few had laughed at him behind his back because he prayed for his patients.

  “Must not be many of those around,” Gina said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “As pretty as you are, you should be married with six kids by now,” Gina said. “I mean, you look younger than I am.”

  Lauren tried to force a smile but it probably gravitated to her face in the form of a grimace. Gina couldn’t realize how insignificant that made her feel. A radical Christian would be able to look past the outside package to the spirit inside. So maybe that meant she was lacking in spiritual depth. She’d come to wonder that in the past few years, especially with the repeated questions from Mom and co-workers and well-meaning church members. She’d tried to tell herself that she was just selective or that the right person hadn’t come into her life yet. But how long was she supposed to wait?

  Gina’s eyes widened. She leaned forward. “It’s the reverend.”

  Lauren had never been able to suppress a blush. She took a bite of her burger.

  “Would you even want to be a preacher’s wife?” Gina made it sound like a horrible thing.

  Lauren glanced toward the breakroom door. “Shh!”

  Gina lowered her voice and giggled. “You would!”

  For at least the millionth time in her life, Lauren wished she wasn’t quite so readable. “Don’t act so shocked. It isn’t as if he’s married but please don’t tell anyone else.” This was so embarrassing. There had never been a hint of any kind of romantic relationship between her and Archer. “I shouldn’t even be thinking about him like that. I mean, he’s my pastor. And he’s younger than me.”

  “How much younger?”

  “Two years.”

  “Don’t forget the studies that advise that a husband should be seven years younger than his wife. Has he asked you out yet?”

  Lauren lowered her voice. “Of course not.”

  “Why ‘of course’?”

  “He’s only been officially unattached for a little over a month.”

  “Your biological clock is ticking,” Gina teased.

  Lauren grimaced. “Like a time bomb. Maybe I should just ignore it and let it wind down. Not everybody is meant to be married and have a family. There are a lot of things I’m free to do now that I wouldn’t be able to do if I had other commitments.”

  “But you want children,” Gina said. “You were good with Levi the other night.”

  “I’d love a child.” Lately she hadn’t been able to ignore the tugging ache in her heart when any patient under the age of ten came into the ER.

  “Do you think Archer would be a good father?”

  “Almost any man can father a child. Archer would be a good daddy.”

  There was a startled gasp from the other side of the partially open door. Lauren froze. Someone had heard them. There was a swish and a squeak of shoes. Lauren jumped up and ran to the hallway in time to see a familiar flowered smock covering the oversized end portion of Fiona Perkins.

  Oh, this was just great.

  “Who was it?” Gina asked.

  “The one person in this hospital who’s reputed to have a bigger mouth than mine. I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Gina laughed. It was a light, tinkling sound but it didn’t make Lauren feel better.

  Chapter 11

  By seven o’clock Wednesday evening the second week in June, traffic in the emergency room had steadily increased until eight of the ten exam beds were occupied. Grant was tempted to put in a pointed request for an immediate mid-level provider. They didn’t have time to wait.

  During the week and a half following the heart-stopping scare with eight-year-old Stacie, Grant Sheldon had discovered many interesting things about Dogwood Springs. A sweet sense of community spirit ran deep in this town and it seemed to be one of curiosity mingled with compassion, especially when word spread about Stacie’s fight with diabetes.

  At least three people had stopped by the ER while Grant was on duty, not for medical care but just to meet him, welcome him to town, and find out more about him. He was invited to join the local Kiwanis Club, which met for lunch each Tuesday at the Copper Pot Café. He was given a free month’s subscription to The Dogwood, the local newspaper. The current issue featured a picture and dramatically written article about Stacie’s plight.

  After the episode with Stacie, Grant had kept count of the patients with flu symptoms who presented to the ER. He didn’t like what he found. The numbers approached epidemic proportions but when he tested for influenza the tests returned negative.

  At the end of a busy Wednesday in the ER, Grant picked up a chart from the circular central desk and turned to give report to his night shift replacement, Dr. Mitchell Caine, a primary care doc who had his own practice in town and moonlighted in the ER.

  “What’s this I hear about shift reductions?” Dr. Caine was an impressive-looking man, maybe an inch shorter than Grant’s 6’2”, with silver blond hair and steel blue eyes, which, at the moment, revealed an edge of displeasure.

  “I want to shorten the shifts until we can hire mid-level providers. I might start by adding overlapping double coverage for the busier evening hours.”

  “And when will this take place?”

  “I hope to put some of it into effect for next month’s schedule. Business is picking up and we don’t want our staff worn out by twelve-hour shifts.”

  “Perhaps it would be wise for you to learn a little more about Dogwood Springs before you start making decisions that could disrupt a lot of lives, Director,” Dr. Caine said. “I need my twelve-hour shifts and tomorrow is my day off. I can sleep then.” He reached up to straighten the crisply starched lab coat that he wore over dress clothes instead of donning the traditional ER scrubs.

  “But you worked all day today, right?” Grant asked. “It appears you’re going to be busy here tonight. Would you want to be a patient of a doctor on his twenty-third hour?”

  Lines of irritability deepened around Caine’s eyes and mouth. “We aren’t that busy in this town yet. There are usually several hours during the night when we only have a trickle of patients.”

  “Even if there’s only one in at a time the doctor can’t sleep through it.”

  “Do you know how expensive it is to run a family practice these days?” Caine’s voice grew deeper, the words more clipped. “The paperwork requires an extra employee just keeping up with government regulations.”

  “I can empathize with you, Dr. Caine. Just be glad we have hospitalists or you’d have to take call.”

  Caine raised a hand as if to ward off Grant’s words. He gave a grimace of a smile, as if he was trying to pass off his irritation with humor. “I’m sure you’re right but you’d be more sympathetic if you had a wife with a Ferrari.”

  The buzzer sounded at the front window and he heard a slightly familiar, crusty voice rise above the normal chatter of the bustling ER.

  “Would you stand up? I’m not going to carry you. Hey! Listen to me, I’ve got some cracked ribs, you know.”

  There was a grunt and a moan. Grant stepped around the partition that separated the ER proper from the reception area and waiting room. There stood the two feuding farmers, Brisco and Scroggs, whom he’d last seen after their hillside crash.

  Mr. Brisco braced himself against the reception counter and grimaced as he held his previously loudmouthed neighbor by the right arm. Mr. Scroggs was swaying like a drunk and he had a small blood-encrusted cut over his left eye. The cast on his left arm was stained with dirt and blood.

  Grant turned and signaled for a nurse then walked around to the entry door and into the waiting room. He gently eased Brisco away and took Scroggs. �
�You shouldn’t be lifting any weight yet, Mr. Brisco. Let’s get him to the back and lay him down. Did you two get into another tangle?”

  “Nope, somebody else walloped him on the head,” Brisco muttered as he tagged along behind them. “Right there in his own barn in broad daylight. What’s this world coming to?” His voice shook with indignation.

  Grant ushered Scroggs into one of the two exam rooms that remained empty and gently sat him on the edge of the bed. Brisco hovered by the door. The nurse murmured comforting words to the old farmer as she took his shirt off and replaced it with a gown. Grant pressed his stethoscope against the patient’s back. The breathing sounded fine.

  “I found him lying on his face in the middle of his barn floor,” Brisco said as the nurse checked Scroggs’s blood pressure.

  “Unconscious?” Grant asked.

  “I think he was just coming out of it. I’d driven over to complain about the fence being down again.” He looked down at his ailing neighbor. “It’s your turn to fix it this time. Look what you’re doing to get out of it.” His voice carried through the ER with nearly as much volume as last time, as if Scroggs was hard of hearing.

  “Mr. Scroggs,” Grant said, checking the cut, “can you talk to me?”

  The farmer’s eyes opened slightly. He winced. “What do you want?”

  “Can you tell me what happened? How long ago?” Grant pressed his stethoscope to the older man’s bony chest. Heart sounded okay, too.

  “I heard something out in the barn when I came in from the field this afternoon.” He reached up and felt for the cut on his temple but Grant intercepted his hand and guided it away. “Thought it was a possum.”

  “That’s not what you told me when I found you,” Brisco interrupted. “You told me you thought I was in there stealing your fertilizer.”

  “I decided to get a jump on him,” Scroggs said with a grimace. He laid his head back on the pillow. “Either the possums in these parts are getting bigger, or that rat-faced weirdo who hit me wasn’t no possum. I should’ve laid this here cast to his skull. He was bending over the spigot of my fertilizer tank. I shouted and he jumped at me with some metal container in his hand. Knocked me out cold till I heard Brisco snooping around.”