by Janice Lynn
“I’m not ill,” she insisted, looking ready to storm out of the exam room. Fatigue washed over her tiny frame and her shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not thinking clearly, but what would you have me do? Go on with my life and pretend my precious baby isn’t lying in that hospital bed, dying?”
Chelsea’s heart squeezed.
“No, I wouldn’t have you pretend anything. Neither do I want you to assume Caden isn’t going to pull through this. You have to remain positive.”
“Positive?” Lacey screeched. “Do you know that Dr Westland told me if Caden survives he’ll likely have brain damage? That he might be mentally retarded or blind or paralyzed or…”
Lacey’s voice choked and she burst into tears. Georgia went to her daughter, embracing her in a hug. Lacey shook her hand, waving her mother away.
“No. I won’t have your sympathy for me. Not when I did this to him.” Her eyes hollow orbs, she turned to Chelsea. “I was the one who caused the crash that did this to Caden. I wasn’t paying attention that he’d undone his safety-belt catch on his car seat. It’s my fault he’s like this.”
The woman’s pain echoed through the room, instilling itself into Chelsea’s heart.
“You didn’t crash your car on purpose.”
“No, that car pulled out in front of me and I swerved to miss it and lost control.” Lacey closed her eyes, shuddering with memories. “We flipped and flipped. I can’t remember how many times. The car just kept rolling.”
“What happened to Caden was an accident.”
“If he’d had his seat belt on he might not have been hurt. I should have known he’d taken it off.”
Chelsea and Georgia both started speaking, but Lacey shook her head.
“Don’t deny it. I heard the police officer say that if Caden had been restrained, he probably wouldn’t have been hurt. He’s right. Look at me.” Lacey held out her scraped arms. “I barely have a scratch, and my baby is lying in that hospital bed not able to breathe for himself.”
“There are a lot of things in life difficult to understand. How one person is born healthy, another not. Why accidents happen to some people, yet others are constantly careless and remain unscathed. Each of us has to make the best of what we’re given, Lacey.” About these things Chelsea knew a lot. Many a night as a little girl she’d cried herself to sleep wondering why her, why her back that was so crooked and malformed, why her parents who insisted on surgery after surgery in search of perfection. “Whatever happens with Caden,” she softly assured her, “he’ll still be your little boy, and you’ll still love him.”
Lacey stared blankly ahead.
“You need to eat. I’m going to ask your mother to make sure you have access to at least one healthy meal a day. Preferably two.” Chelsea glanced at Georgia, who promptly nodded her agreement. “I need you to promise you’ll do your best to eat what she brings you.”
Lacey closed her eyes, her expression pained. “I’ll try.”
“Good,” Chelsea said. “And sleep? Will you try that, too?”
“I can’t sleep,” Lacey protested, looking agitated again. “When I close my eyes, my brain won’t shut off to let me. All I see when I shut my eyes is the same thing I see when I open them. A nightmare. A horrible, horrible nightmare that won’t go away. My Caden unconscious and just lying there, not moving or talking or even knowing I’m there.”
Sobs racked Lacey’s frail body. Although the woman’s frustrations and pain were all too real and understandable, her lack of sleep and nutrition left her even less capable of coping.
“I’d like to give you a mild sedative for you to take before trying to rest. It’s mild enough that when Caden wakes up, you’ll rouse without problems,” Chelsea said, knowing the woman wouldn’t take anything that would keep her away from her son. “But it’s strong enough that you should be able to sleep.”
Eyes wide, Lacey shook her head. “I don’t want to take drugs.”
“This would only be short-term. Just something to take the edge off so you can rest. Sleep really is important, Lacey. Without sleep you aren’t going to be able to think clearly. Dr Westland might need your input regarding Caden’s care. If he does, you need your mind sharp so you can make good decisions. You said yourself that you weren’t thinking clearly,” she gently pointed out. “Fatigue can make your mind cloudy, and it’s easy to make poor choices when you’re exhausted. If for no other reason, rest for Caden’s sake.”
Tears still streaming down her cheeks, Lacey regarded her for a few minutes. “OK. I’ll take them. I don’t like the idea of taking medicines, but I like the thought of making a bad decision about Caden even less.”
Chelsea spoke with the young woman several more minutes, explaining how the medicine worked and when it was and wasn’t appropriate to take it.
After Georgia and Lacey had left, Chelsea remained in the exam room feeling emotionally exhausted, feeling vulnerable. She wasn’t ready to face her next patient. Not yet. Not without a minute or two to process the emotions running through her at Lacey’s pain and guilt. The woman needed counseling. Lots of counseling. But to have suggested counseling now would have meant pulling Lacey away from Caden’s bedside, and she would never agree. Not at this point.
Chelsea leaned her head against the wall, taking a moment to pull herself together.
She really couldn’t imagine the heartache and guilt Lacey was going through. Neither did she know if she’d said the right things, if she’d given her enough help. She’d check into what resources and support groups were available through Madison Memorial Hospital. Maybe there was a social worker who could get Lacey help while Caden recovered.
How would Lacey cope if the little boy didn’t pull through?
Chelsea shuddered at the thought of what might happen. No, she wouldn’t think of that. But she would make a point of ensuring Lacey had access to a crisis hotline and a good social worker, just in case.
She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer that Caden would fully recover.
“You OK?”
Chelsea looked up into concerned blue eyes that held the power to heal the ache in her heart and answer a lifetime of prayers. They also held the power to hurt her as no one else could.
“Jared.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder. Warmth and need spread through her.
Without thought she wrapped her arms around him, needing the comfort of feeling close to another person. To him.
Jared’s entire body stiffened, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from Chelsea. His arms slipped around her waist, holding her, yet he didn’t allow himself to relax into the embrace.
She looked so shaken. After three weeks of seeing her in action, he knew she was a great doctor but didn’t maintain professional detachment.
He felt completely unable to suggest she armor her heart. Not when, no matter how much he desired an impenetrable shield of professional detachment himself, he hadn’t figured out a way to armor his own heart. His involvement with Connie Black proved that. Lacey, too.
Hell, professional detachment was something even the most highly skilled and experienced of providers struggled with from time to time. The very essence of a person that led them into the medical field made them more susceptible to others’ needs, others’ emotions.
Speaking of Chelsea’s heart, he could feel her heartbeat against his chest, could feel her heat seeping through his clothes as she snuggled against him. His arms dropped, hanging at his sides, feeling like heavy tree trunks because he should push her away yet couldn’t.
Neither holding her nor pushing her away felt right, so he just stood there.
Who was he kidding? This caring woman against him felt right. Too right. Just as she had when she’d barely been seventeen and had kissed him, she made him want things he had no business wanting.
Which was as wrong now as wanting her had been then, just for different reasons.
So he let her lean on him, feeling awkward and t
otally removed from himself, because if he let the fact Chelsea pressed against him register completely, he’d be a goner.
Seeming to realize what she was doing, she pulled back and shot him an apologetic glance.
“Sorry,” she mumbled in a low voice, her cheeks rosy.
By not responding, he’d embarrassed her, which he’d never intended. He’d taken one look at her ashen face and had had to let her know he understood, had wanted to ease the burden on her heart. Instead, he’d set himself up to hurt her yet again.
Despite never wanting to hurt this woman, he seemed to be capable of nothing else. But, then, wasn’t that what he did? Hurt the women he got close to? And wouldn’t it have been much worse to hold her close when doing so would only leave them both wanting more?
He already wanted more. Lots more.
If they became involved, he may as well kiss his life in Madison goodbye.
He wouldn’t risk it. Not even for someone whose scent haunted his senses long into the night and had from the day he’d met her. Even if he’d been in denial of that fact for years. Now that he’d held her again, heaven help him, he’d feel the heat of her body in his dreams.
Still, he couldn’t stand seeing her hurt. After all, even if they could never have a personal relationship, they did work together. Coworkers could commiserate over a particularly tough patient.
“I came as soon as Betty told me Lacey was here. You’ve seen her already?” he asked.
“She and her mother just left.” Not meeting his eyes, Chelsea nodded. “I guess you think I’m silly for being so upset over a woman I’ve never met before today.”
“No,” he answered honestly. “I don’t.”
“You don’t?”
Clearly, he’d surprised her. Perhaps with good reason, but Chelsea had heart. He couldn’t fault her for that.
“What happened to Caden is a sad case. I ran into Wayne—Dr Westland—at the gym where we both work out. There’s little hope of Caden recovering consciousness.” He hated to tell her, but she should know the full extent of what Lacey was dealing with. Lacey. From the moment he’d met the young woman she’d reminded him of Laura. Perhaps it was her eyes, or perhaps it had been the circumstances that had brought Lacey in for that first visit. He swallowed, refocused on what he was saying. “If Caden does regain consciousness, Wayne doesn’t give him good odds of ever functioning anywhere near normal. It’s possible, but unlikely.”
Chelsea winced. “His poor mother.”
Jared nodded, still fighting his guilty memories. “Lacey’s lucky she has Georgia. I’m not sure she’d make it through this if she didn’t.”
“She’s angry at her mother,” Chelsea said quietly. “Angry at the world, really.”
“Georgia has stood by her through everything. She’ll be there for her through this, too.”
Just as he’d tried to stand by Laura, but she’d been angry as well. Angry and had known him well enough to sense something had changed during that spring break they’d been apart. Nothing had been the same between them after that.
“Lacey got pregnant during high school?” Chelsea interrupted, not knowing his thoughts were lost in the past, stuck on another young girl who’d dealt with an unplanned pregnancy, during medical school rather than high school, though.
He sighed. “I diagnosed Lacey’s pregnancy the first day I worked here. She was seven months and hiding her condition from her mother,” Jared said, not sure why he was admitting so much to a woman he kept insisting he wanted nothing to do with. Probably just because of the anxiety he’d felt from the moment Betty had mentioned Lacey’s visit. He should have seen her, should have been there to help her, to offer his support in any way he could. “I have a personal stake in Caden’s recovery. He was my first delivery in Madison when he came into the world a month early.”
“Delivery?”
He raked his fingers through his hair, and distractedly answered. “We offered OB services until three years ago when we opted to stop due to liability insurance expenses skyrocketing. It just wasn’t worth the cost and long hours as we’re basically a family practice.” He gave her an odd look. “But I guess Will would have told you that.”
“Will’s never enjoyed obstetrics. Delivering babies wasn’t something we talked a lot about when he visited me at school.”
No, none of them enjoyed delivering babies. Because of what had happened to Laura?
Quit dwelling on Laura. You can’t change the past.
“You’ve always been close to your brother?”
“Always.” She smiled. “Will has been the bright spot in my life.”
“You say that as if the rest of your life hasn’t been charmed.”
She’d grown up in the lap of luxury with two of the most renowned doctors in the country as her parents. Although he hadn’t grown up dirt poor, Jared couldn’t imagine the opportunities Chelsea had had at her fingertips. Certainly Will talked of mission trips and health summits he’d attended from the time he’d been a young boy. He’d half expected his friend to follow in his parents’ footsteps and go into the politics of medicine.
“You think my life has been charmed?” Chelsea scoffed, drawing his attention to her pinched expression.
“Hasn’t it?”
“Charmed?” Sarcasm dripped from her embittered tongue. “Oh, yeah. A fairy tale come to life.”
“What?” Her sarcasm surprised him, gave him opportunity to drive another wedge between them, something he desperately needed at the moment. The feel of her body still lingered and he wanted nothing more than to refresh that memory. “Mommy and Daddy didn’t shower you with enough of their money and attention?”
Her jaw dropped. She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin. “Something like that.”
For the second time since her arrival in Madison, she stormed away from him, leaving him wondering if he’d pushed her too far in the wake of Lacey’s visit and his thoughts about Laura.
Left him wondering why he wanted to go after her and make her explain the hurt in her eyes.
Somewhere in Chelsea’s childhood something had gone terribly wrong and Jared was pretty sure her parents had a lot to answer for.
For that matter, so did he.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LATER that evening Chelsea sat at her desk, skimming over her lab call-back list to make sure she hadn’t overlooked anyone. She hadn’t. Which meant she was free to leave. Only she didn’t want to go home to an empty house, and with Will in the emergency room that’s exactly what she’d be doing.
An empty house reminded her of the empty mansion where she’d spent her lonely childhood. After her conversation with Jared she needed childhood reminders like she needed a hole in her throbbing head.
She usually kept her cool, kept her practiced smile on her face when someone mentioned her parents. Why Jared’s remark had got to her she wasn’t sure. Then again, everything about the man got to her so she shouldn’t be surprised.
A knock sounded on her door, and she glanced up. Her breath caught. Minus his lab coat, Jared stood in his dark slacks and pullover that emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow hips.
She reminded herself she was irritated at him for his careless comment.
Then again, she couldn’t blame him for the problems of her youth when really there wasn’t anyone to blame. Her parents were wonderful doctors, but just hadn’t been able to love a defective child when they’d been the ones used to charmed lives. They’d wanted her to be perfect, had been willing to pay any price to achieve that perfection, even when it meant putting her through painful procedures and therapy, even if it had meant robbing her completely of any semblance of a normal childhood. At times she’d felt they’d worried they’d be contaminated if they spent much time with her and that’s why they’d traveled more often than not, doing research, mission work, striving for medical care for all. She’d been left behind with her nanny and various doctors and therapists.
But her parents did the medical
community a lot of good, and she could never begrudge the world their contributions. Too bad they’d had such little compassion for their daughter, insisting on brace after awkward brace, operation after painful operation, therapy after long-enduring therapy. When they’d wanted to send her back for more cosmetic surgery at seventeen to decrease her scarring, she’d refused, not able to bear the thought of going under the blade again, not for vanity reasons, not when the surgery had really been more to do with her parents trying to turn her into the perfect person than for her.
They’d forced her to see a psychiatrist, accused her of deviant, unappreciative behavior, threatened to have her committed for therapy. Thank goodness Will had stepped in, offering to take her with him on his spring break and “make her see reason”. But he’d never pushed her to have her scars removed, and had calmly informed their parents Chelsea wouldn’t be undergoing any more surgeries.
Those scars were reminders of who she was, how much she’d overcome, but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit they were also a source of contention. She protected those scars, only having shown willingly one person the slashes along her spine and shoulder blades. Kevin’s reaction had forever ended her relationship with him.
How would Jared have reacted to the horrific vertical cuts if she had bared her soul and body to him? Would he have turned away in disgust as well?
“You’re not speaking to me?” he asked when she remained lost in her own world. “Not that I blame you.”
Knowing she’d never know the answer to her question, she pushed the paper she’d been holding away and met his blue gaze.
“Sorry. What can I do for you?” She kept her voice coolly professional. She didn’t need or want a repeat of earlier, and she felt too tired to attempt to change his mind about her.
“Actually, I came to tell you that.”
She blinked, thinking she’d missed part of their conversation. “Pardon?”