by Radclyffe
Quinn’s heart did a fast roll, the kind that ordinarily had her bracing for a jolt. This time, though, it was pure pleasure. “Both, Dr. Blake.”
Smiling, heart lighter than it had been in years, Honor turned away, afraid that Quinn would see more in her eyes than she was ready to reveal. “Smooth as always, Dr. Maguire.”
Chapter Twenty
Linda dropped into a chair at the nurses’ station next to Honor and heaved a sigh. “God, what a day.”
“Mmph,” Honor grunted without looking up from the EKG she was studying. A minute later, she pushed back in her chair and ran a distracted hand through her hair. “It’s been nonstop since we walked in this morning.”
“Oh, how I love summer in the city,” Linda moaned. “More sports-related accidents, more vehicular trauma, more fistfights. Ain’t we got fun.”
“Only a few more weeks until school starts, thank God.” Honor glanced around the ER restlessly. The hallways were nearly impassable with stretchers, x-ray machines, and instrument carts parked haphazardly outside patient cubicles. She saw several residents, nurses, and attendings, but not the one person she was seeking. “Have you seen Quinn?”
Linda smiled. By her count, that was the tenth time that Honor had asked the same question since the three of them had arrived for work eight hours before. She doubted that Honor realized that she became agitated and outright grumpy whenever Quinn wasn’t in eyeshot. “I think she’s casting that navicular fracture in seven. The painter who fell off the ladder and landed on his wrist?”
“Oh, right.”
“It’s a damn good thing she came back to work today,” Linda observed casually. “Half the patients in here have surgical problems.”
“She’s earning her salary, that’s for sure.” Turning on the swivel stool, Honor glanced behind her at the large intake board with columns of patient names, in and out times, and chief complaints. The flow did seem faster, and part of it had to be the fact that fewer patients were waiting for surgical consults because Quinn was dealing with their problems herself. “I just don’t want her to burn out.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Linda said with a snort. “She’s incredibly fast, and I don’t get the sense she’s tired.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Honor tried to sound casual, but Linda knew her too well.
“What are you worried about?” Linda studied the shadows swirling in Honor’s eyes, then asked gently, “Are you concerned about her health?”
“No, of course not.”
“You are. Why? Is she having problems?” When Linda saw Honor’s jaw set in the way it did when she was being stubborn, she added impatiently, “I already know what’s wrong, remember? You’re not giving away any secrets.”
Honor’s shoulders sagged slightly, and she shook her head. “I don’t know what’s bothering me. She seems perfectly fine. I’ve seen her running with the kids on the soccer field, and believe me, she’s totally functional.”
“You wouldn’t be half this worried if you weren’t falling for her.”
“I’m not falling for her.” Honor stood and gathered her paperwork. “I’m going to discharge the man in one with the chest pain. His EKG is fine, and his chest x-ray is clear. He’s got esophageal spasm, and he needs an upper endoscopy. Can you give him the phone number for the GI department so he can schedule a follow-up appointment?”
“Sure.” Linda stood as well and angled her body so that she was blocking the exit path. In an insistent whisper, she said, “And I saw the way the two of you were looking at each other this morning. I thought I was going to have to hose you both down before you got in the car.”
Honor couldn’t help smiling. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”
“She most certainly is.” Linda gave Honor a quick hug. “And so are you. I am so happy for you.”
“There’s nothing to get all excited about. We’re just going on a simple date.”
“A date!”
“Shh! God, will you be quiet.” Honor glanced around surreptitiously, relieved to see that no one was nearby. “I hate hospital gossip, and I’d rather not be the subject of it.”
“When?”
“Friday.”
“Who asked who?” Linda could barely contain her excitement. She was naturally curious and loved the details of other people’s lives, but this was beyond exciting. Honor on a date!
“I did.” Honor colored and looked away. “I have to go now. I’ve got patients waiting.” As she turned to head down the hall, she nearly bumped into Quinn. Stepping back quickly, she mumbled, “Hi. Everything okay?”
“Perfect,” Quinn replied with a grin. One of the best parts of the day had been looking up to see Honor nearby, concentrating on an x-ray or explaining a teaching point to a resident or bent over a chart, writing a note. Every time Quinn saw her, pleasure fluttered in the pit of her stomach. “You?”
“Good. Fine,” Honor said abruptly, trying desperately to avoid Quinn’s eyes. Because every time she looked into them, she forgot what she was doing. As the heat of Quinn’s gaze washed over her, all she could think of was how it would feel were that touch made real. She was certain that she had never been so constantly aroused in her life. “I...” She lifted the chart in her hand. “Patient...have a patient.”
“Yeah. Me, too. See you later?”
Honor sidled around her, careful that their bodies didn’t touch. “Soccer. Maybe.”
Quinn turned and watched Honor hurry away down the hall, a quizzical look in her eyes. From beside her, she heard Linda laugh softly.
“There used to be a time when she could speak in sentences of more than one word,” Linda observed dryly. “Funny about that.”
“She’s incredible,” Quinn whispered.
Linda rolled her eyes.
“So, what’s next?” Quinn asked briskly, her expression becoming intent as her attention refocused.
“How do you feel about checking out a softball player who got hit in the cheek with a line drive?”
“Visual problems?”
“Too swollen to tell. He can’t get his eyelids open, so I didn’t force it.”
“Do we have a facial CT yet?”
“Just say the word, Dr. Maguire.” Linda reached behind her for an x-ray request form.
“Considerate it said. While you’re getting that,” Quinn glanced at the intake board, “I’ll start on the woman with the upper abdominal pain.”
“You’ve got a deal.”
Quinn was in the process of performing an ultrasound examination of the fifty-year-old woman’s gallbladder, looking for stones, when Linda stuck her head into the room. “Dr. Blake asked me to tell you that we have two level ones coming in, Dr. Maguire.”
“I’ll be right there,” Quinn said calmly as she set the ultrasound probe aside. She smiled at Mrs. Lamont. “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to leave for a while, but I’ll be back.”
The woman merely sighed and closed her eyes.
When Quinn stepped out of the cubicle, she saw Honor hurrying toward the admission area and sprinted to catch up to her. “What’s going on?”
“Rescue One is bringing in a drowning victim. A kayaker they pulled out of the Schuylkill. He’s in full arrest.”
“Crap.”
Honor nodded grimly. “And Northstar’s on the roof with a woman with chemical burns to both arms. I don’t have a level on that.”
“What do you want me to take?”
“Take the burn,” Honor said immediately.
“I may need to do escharotomies,” Quinn said quietly, referring to the incisions made through the thick burns to improve circulation. I may need to operate. Just what everyone’s so worried about.
Honor, her eyes steady and calm, met Quinn’s. “No matter what anyone says, you’re a surgeon, Quinn. Just take care of it. I’ll be around.”
Before Quinn could do anything more than nod, a horde of EMTs pushing two stretchers, one after the other, came barreli
ng through the door. Honor pointed to her left to the first group; the drowning victim appeared pale and unresponsive as he was whizzed past.
“Down here,” Quinn directed the second stretcher to the larger procedure room.
For the next hour, Quinn was totally absorbed in the resuscitation of the twenty-five-year-old woman who had tripped and fallen and, in the process of catching herself, had immersed both arms in a caustic disinfectant solution. After the initial administration of fluid hydration and pain medication, Quinn had turned her attention to the circulation in the woman’s hands. The blood flow was significantly impaired by the deep circumferential tissue damage in her forearms, and the fingers were white and cold.
As Quinn had anticipated, immediate surgery was necessary to release the constricting burn tissue and restore the normal circulation. Although the patient would be transferred to an area burn center for definitive care, it was imperative to re-establish blood flow to her fingers before permanent damage could result. It was precision surgery due to the many nerves and blood vessels in close proximity to tendons and other essential structures in the wrist. Quinn made confident, efficient incisions through the eschars on both wrists, relieving the tense pressure beneath. Immediately, the nail beds, which had been dead white, turned pink.
When Quinn was satisfied that the woman would not lose her fingers, she pushed the instrument tray aside and stood, stretching her back to ease the cramps in her shoulders.
“Dress the wounds with Silvadene and sterile gauze,” she instructed the resident who had assisted her. “She’s ready to transport.”
“Thanks,” the resident said with a hint of awe in her voice.
“And don’t forget to finish the chart work.”
“No problem,” the resident called after Quinn as she walked away.
Quinn didn’t see Linda at the nurses’ station, so she continued down the hall to the treatment room where she had seen Honor direct the EMTs earlier. At the open door, she stopped abruptly. Honor knelt astride the stretcher, performing closed cardiac compression while verbally directing the resident and Linda to administer a cocktail of cardiac drugs. From where she stood, Quinn could see the strain in Honor’s face and the sweat beaded on her face and neck.
Moving to Linda’s side, Quinn asked quietly, “How long has she been at it?”
Linda took a quick glance at the clock. “Fifty-eight minutes.”
“What’s his status?”
“He came in flatline. No change.”
Quinn knew that in near-drowning victims the absence of a pulse upon arrival in the emergency room almost always indicated a very poor chance for survival. However, most drowning victims were young, and while it was always difficult to stop resuscitative efforts, it was the most difficult in the young. She moved to Honor’s side.
“How about I take over for a while? I’m fresh.”
Honor looked up briefly, her vision blurred by the sweat running into her eyes. She’d been going on automatic for the last half-hour and could barely feel her hands. “Okay, yes. Thanks.”
Quinn put her hands over Honor’s and began compression as soon as Honor withdrew hers. Rhythmically, she pumped her arms to the count of five compressions to each breath delivered by the respiratory therapist, who had attached a breathing bag to the endotracheal tube that ran down the young man’s throat. In the background, she could hear Honor instructing Linda to administer another round of drugs.
“Let’s shock him again,” Honor said a minute later. “Charge the defibrillator to 300.” As she put the paddles down on the pale chest, she met Quinn’s eyes. “Stand far clear of the bed, Quinn.”
Quinn nodded and, when Honor called clear, stepped several feet away, knowing that the slightest bleed of current from the patient’s body or the metal stretcher or even along the surface of the floor would in all likelihood trigger her own arrhythmias. As soon as the charge had dispersed, she moved back in to continue compressions. They repeated the cycle twice more, without success.
“That’s enough,” Honor said quite clearly.
Slowly, everyone in the room stopped what they were doing.
Honor glanced at the clock. Flatly, she stated, “Time of death, 5:05 p.m.”
Quinn watched Honor as she turned and left the room, then looked down at the lifeless body, colorless but still warm. Across the table, her eyes met Linda’s. “You okay here?”
“Yeah, we’ll take care of things,” Linda replied with the muted sadness of someone for whom tragedy was not new but would never be routine. “Go ahead.”
There was no one in the small staff lounge except Honor, who sat alone at one of the rickety round tables. Damp tendrils of hair streaked across one cheek, her scrub shirt clung to her chest with sweat, and her hands trembled where they rested on the plain gray surface.
Quinn walked to the soda machine, slid in a dollar bill, and punched the button for a Diet Coke. She repeated the process and carried both to the table, twisted off the tops, and put one bottle in front of Honor.
“You should drink that. You’re probably dehydrated.”
“Thanks.” Mechanically, Honor picked up the soda and drank nearly a third of it.
Quinn took a long swallow of hers and set down the plastic bottle. Then she took the seat next to Honor’s. “Anything I can do to help?”
Sighing, Honor shook her head. “No. The police are tracking down his family. If they call here, I’ll talk to them.”
“Are you okay?”
Honor raised an eyebrow, her nerves raw. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn said quietly. “Something tells me that it hurts you when you lose one, not that you did. I guess I should say when you can’t save them all.”
“That’s what we’re supposed to be doing here, isn’t it? Saving people?”
“Yes. All the ones we can.” There was a hint of bitterness in Honor’s voice that most people would have missed, but Quinn was listening for it. She covered Honor’s hand with her own. “I’m sorry about this one.” And all the other ones whom no one could have saved, but for whom you feel responsible. All the way back to Terry.
“I’m okay,” Honor said softly, her fingers briefly entwining with Quinn’s. She squeezed lightly, and then withdrew her hand. “Thanks for the help in there. Daniels was tied up with a child with epiglottitis. In fact, I should check on him now. How’s your burn patient?”
“Already on her way to the burn center.”
“I don’t know how we managed without you.” Honor forced a light note into her voice. It was so hard when she had to let one go. She knew the statistics, understood and intellectually accepted the realities of her work, but for just a few moments—every time—it was Terry all over again. She didn’t know how, but she sensed that Quinn knew this, and she didn’t feel quite so alone with the pain.
Quinn watched some of the shadows disappear from the dark depths of Honor’s eyes and a bit of her own sadness lifted. “I just can’t imagine.”
Smiling now, Honor stood. “What do you say we hit those boards and clear this place out. Then you, Linda, Robin, and the kids are invited over to my place for Chinese.”
Quinn rose as well, resisting the urge to take Honor’s hand. “I can’t think of anything better.”
It amazed Honor to discover that she believed her.
By ten p.m., all three children had fallen asleep wherever they’d happened to land, and the adults weren’t far behind. Linda was curled up in Robin’s arms at one end of the couch, her head on Robin’s shoulder, her eyes nearly closed. At the opposite end, Honor sat on the floor in front of Quinn, who was gently kneading her shoulders. The local news droned on the television.
“Better?” Quinn asked softly, leaning forward, her mouth close to Honor’s ear. Her fingers curved along Honor’s neck, her thumbs playing up and down the tight muscles on either side of Honor’s spine.
“Mmm.” Pressing back into Quinn’s hands, Honor shivered as the warm breath
wafted over her ear. Quinn’s thighs rested lightly against the outside of her arms, and the heat from Quinn’s body seemed to surround her. Hot, heavy pleasure slowly rolled through her, leaving her feeling ripe and sensuous. “Heaven.”
“It is,” Quinn murmured. Honor’s hair lay softly over the backs of her hands, a tease of golden silk. She imagined awakening with those silken strands scattered across her chest, with the exquisite softness of Honor’s cheek against her breast. The ache of desire beat so hard she nearly groaned, and it was all she could do not to brush her lips over the tender skin of Honor’s neck. “I recommend a warm shower and a good night’s sleep.”
Honor shifted around, letting her head rest against Quinn’s inner thigh as she looked up into the deep blue eyes. The pleasure simmering in her belly flared at the undisguised wanting in Quinn’s face. “Do you, now?”
Quinn nodded, drawing one finger slowly along the edge of Honor’s jaw, then down her throat, stopping at the small hollow between her collarbones. “It’s been a long day, and you’re tired.”
I don’t feel tired. I’d be happy if you never stopped touching me. Honor glanced over at her friends. Robin’s chin rested against the top of Linda’s head, and both of them now appeared to be asleep. Fondly, she smiled. “Our numbers are dwindling.”
Very slowly, Quinn leaned down and brushed her lips over Honor’s mouth. It was far less than she wanted, but piercingly sweet nevertheless. “I should go.”
“I don’t want you to,” Honor whispered.
Quinn’s breath caught in her throat, and she closed her eyes for an instant. Her fingers trembled against the damp skin just above the swell of Honor’s breasts before she drew her hand back. When she met Honor’s gaze, the look of longing nearly broke her resolve. “You make it very hard for me to remember why we should wait.”
Honor’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Good.”
Beside them, Linda grumbled and sat upright, blinking. “What a lively crowd.”