The Origins of Heartbreak: A Lesbian Medical Romance (Lakeside Hospital Book 1)

by Cara Malone

  The Origins of Heartbreak

  Lakeside Hospital series, Book #1

  Cara Malone

  Copyright © 2017 by Cara Malone

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  A Note from the Author

  Also by Cara Malone

  Read the first chapter of That Old Emerald Mountain Magic

  One

  Megan Callahan stood nervously on the side of a small stage at the front of an ornately decorated church, waiting for her name to be called. It was late September and she was standing in line with a hundred and fifty other people, all waiting to receive their white coats as they began their second year of medical school.

  She had spent the morning going through all of the technical details of starting a new school year — figuring out her class schedule and purchasing her textbooks in the college store — and it had all seemed pretty anti-climactic. She’d been working toward becoming a doctor for as long as she could remember, and this felt like nothing more than a new semester at the same school she’d been attending for the past five years.

  She’d already completed her first year of medical school, and now she was known as an M2 — one more year of classes and then she would finally be doing the hospital rotations that she’d been waiting so long for. It felt so far away still, and yet with a set of spotlights beating down on the stage and making Megan’s brow moist, the significance of the white coat ceremony felt more real than ever.

  She was two people away from the front of the line now, and very soon she would be walking across the stage. One of her professors would be putting a white coat on her shoulders, and by the end of this year she would be one step closer to becoming a real doctor, seeing patients and holding lives in her hands. Megan was doing her best to pretend she wasn’t having a small panic attack about that, particularly because the student standing directly behind her—Ivy Chan—was an alpha dog through and through and she’d love any opportunity to observe weakness in Megan.

  They had met in line at the bookstore on their very first day of medical school, and Megan made the mistake of trying to talk to her once she noticed that they were buying a lot of the same books.

  “Are you a first-year med student, too?” Megan had asked.

  “No, I’m just a really dumb third year,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Looks like someone’s going to have trouble with evidence-based practice.”

  Megan had opened her mouth to rebut, meaning to throw something out about her biology degree and how Northwestern had given her a solid understanding of the scientific method, thank you very much, but then the line moved forward and the girl marched away with her books. Megan had hoped that in a class of a hundred and fifty, their paths wouldn’t have to intersect again, but of course the universe couldn’t be that kind. Ivy had been a constant thorn in her side ever since.

  “Megan Callahan.”

  Hearing her name called into a microphone made Megan’s heart give a little jump in her chest, and she ascended the stairs onto the stage. One of her favorite professors, Dr. Morrow, was holding out a white coat for her. As Megan turned around to put her arms through the sleeves, she scanned the audience, looking for her parents. They were out there, along with her younger brother, but the bright lights obscured them.

  The twirling process of putting on the coat was a little awkward and disorienting, and then Dr. Morrow was guiding Megan on her way across the stage to shake hands with the dean.

  “Ivy Chan,” the announcer called. Megan spared a glance backward and saw Ivy slipping gracefully into her coat.

  Megan exited on the other side of the stage and went back to her place in the pews to wait for the rest of the class to finish getting their coats. Her nerves had dissipated the moment she felt the coat settling on her shoulders, and she couldn’t wait to go back to her apartment and check it out in the mirror, complete with a stethoscope looped around her neck. It was worth every bit of the last five years of work, staying up late and studying after everyone else went to sleep, burning the midnight oil to keep up on social events at her undergraduate sorority and still get her work done. There was still a lot of hard work left to do, but a little bit of recognition and a crisp white coat was nice, too.

  After the ceremony finally drew to a close with Megan’s class reciting the Declaration of Geneva (I solemnly pledge to consecrate my life to the service of humanity…), they were all released to greet their parents and take them over to the student union for a reception. Megan found her family lingering outside of the doors of the church, and her folks immediately made a huge deal out of the coat, hugging her and inspecting the material. Her mother straightened her collar while Megan blushed and tried to lead them across the courtyard.

  “You look like such a grown woman,” her mother said, her eyes tearful from the ceremony.

  “You look like a marshmallow,” Megan’s teenaged brother, Finn, said.

  “A marshmallow that has the power to save—or end—your life,” Megan shot back, but he paid no attention to her reply. He was looking longingly toward the student union, where a lot of people were headed.

  “There’s food at this thing, right?” he asked.

  Megan watched Ivy come out of the church alone and march across the courtyard with the same pompous posture she’d had when she walked across the stage. She wondered if Ivy had anyone in the audience watching her, but it was impossible to feel too sorry for her when she wore that perpetual scowl on her face that said she had the world’s most uncomfortable stick up her butt. Megan stopped watching her and said, “Yeah, let’s go—I’m starving.”

  The four of them headed over to the reception, where there were hors d’oeuvres galore, from finger sandwiches to mini quiches to a chocolate fountain surrounded by fresh fruit. Finn split off from the rest of the family instantly, making a bee line for the dessert table, and Megan picked up three champagne glasses for herself and her parents.

  Before she’d even taken a sip, though, her roommate, Chloe, came bounding over, practically skipping across the room and throwing her arm around Megan’s shoulder.

  “Hi Mr. and Mrs. Callahan,” she exclaimed, then turned to Megan and did a little impromptu fashion show with her white jacket, twirling around and then bumping her shoulder against Megan’s. “How excited are you? I don’t think I’m ever going to take my white coat off.”

  “I’ll probably take mine off to go to the grocery store and stuff like that,” Megan said with a small laugh. Chloe was the most enth
usiastic, bubbly person Megan had ever met. Half the time, she felt compelled to put her hands on Chloe’s shoulders just to keep her from floating away, and the other half of the time she wanted to install a zipper on her mouth.

  “Oh, I won’t,” Chloe said with a half-serious grin. “I want everyone to know I’m a doctor.”

  Then she threw her arms around Megan again, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, and dashed off to mingle with more people. Megan watched Chloe go over to Ivy, who was stacking a plate high with finger sandwiches, and Chloe greeted her with the same enthusiastic energy. Megan always expected Ivy to sprout quills like a porcupine whenever people approached her, but for some reason she didn’t have the same prickly response to bubbly Chloe that she had to everyone else.

  My colleagues will be my sisters and brothers, Megan thought, remembering another line from the Declaration of Geneva. Then she thought, This is medical school.

  Two

  Alex McHenry felt like the only person in the room who was on the verge of vomiting from nerves. It was the last day of September and her first day of class, along with about twenty other people enrolled in the Emergency Medical Technology program, and the technical school was pretty different from the University of Illinois where she studied last year. At least she was pretty sure what to expect from a first day.

  There were introductions to be made, and syllabi to be read, and they’d probably get an overview of the EMT program and a reading assignment or two. It shouldn’t be a big deal for Alex, but she was nervous. By the end of this program, she would be responsible for saving people’s lives.

  The girl sitting at the desk beside her was the only other student who seemed even remotely stirred by this fact—she was actually shaking a little bit. Most of the other people in the room, by contrast, just looked bored.

  The instructor hadn’t arrived yet, so Alex leaned toward the shaky girl and said in a confidential tone, “They’re probably going to have us do some ice breakers. Do you want to get a head start?”

  “Huh?” the girl asked.

  “I’m Alex,” she said. She didn’t get nervous often anymore, and she thought if she could channel her nerves into putting this girl at ease, then she might feel better, too. Alex extended her hand and the girl took it. “What’s your name?”

  “Sarah,” she said, then withdrew her clammy hand.

  “What are you in for?” Alex asked.

  “What?” Sarah asked, furrowing her brow at Alex’s question, but before she could explain that it was a joke, a man in a button-down, short-sleeved shirt and a thin tie walked to the front of the room and started writing on the board, snapping Sarah’s attention away from Alex.

  He wrote his name in thick letters—Mr. Zachary Chase—and then turned around to address the class. He had a stack of papers to hand out—just as Alex anticipated—and as he passed them around the room, she focused on the routine of syllabus reading and became less nervous.

  “Welcome to Evanston Community College, and to the EMT training program,” the instructor said with a smile. “I’m Zach Chase and I’ll be your tour guide. Please keep your arms and legs inside the car at all times.”

  Alex gave a little snort at this, along with a few other laughs from the class, but mainly everyone was just staring at Mr. Chase as he made his way back to the front of the room. Alex hoped that this was nothing more than first-day jitters, otherwise the next few months were going to be a drag.

  The papers turned out to be a program overview rather than a syllabus. In order to obtain an EMT-Basic certification, Mr. Chase said, they would all be completing one semester’s worth of classes, including anatomy and physiology, basic life support, and hands-on experience. They would all become CPR-certified in that time, and at the end of the program they should be ready to take a licensing exam and begin working in the field. Alex skimmed through the packet as he talked, reading off the list of skills she would need to obtain in the next three months.

  Cardiopulmonary resuscitation. Assessment of emergency care requirements. Lifting, moving, and transporting patients. Recognizing the nature and severity of a patient’s condition.

  It was a lot to learn in such a short time, and a weighty responsibility. Alex looked around the room and wondered why everyone else looked bored by this instead of anxious. Last year she’d been learning how to teach art class, and the year before that she was in high school, responsible for no one and nothing. It was only recently that she decided to make this quantum shift into medicine.

  She was having second thoughts.

  “Okay, that’s enough of listening to me ramble,” Mr. Chase said. “We’re going to get up and get the blood flowing, get to know each other a little bit. Everybody, circle the wagons.”

  There was much noise and chairs scraping along the linoleum floors as he directed everyone to rearrange their desks into a semi-circle. Then he retrieved a stack of index cards from his desk and stood in the center of the circle.

  Alex ended up next to Sarah again, and no sooner had her butt hit the chair than Mr. Chase said, “Up and at ‘em. I told you guys we’re getting the blood flowing.”

  Everyone stood up, and then he went to the first desk in the semi-circle, laying down an index card with a name written on it.

  “Dan Armstrong, pop a squat,” Mr. Chase said, pointing at the desk. “I’m seating you all alphabetically so that it’ll be easier for me to remember your names, and on the back of your name tag I wrote down a question. When you get to your seat, you’re going to answer the question for the class.”

  Dan turned out to be a tall guy who looked like he was in his forties, with muscular arms and wide shoulders. He’d have no problem with lifting, moving, and transporting patients. He sat down and looked at the question on the back of his index card.

  “Why did you enroll in EMT classes?” he read, and then without hesitation, he answered for the class, “I’ve been an orderly at Lakeside Hospital for fifteen years, and I realized pretty early on that I would never be able to move up without an education. Life got in the way, but I’m here now to better myself for my career and for my kids.”

  “Thanks for sharing, Dan,” Mr. Chase said.

  He slapped another index card down on the desk next to Dan’s and called another name, and then another, as more and more people found their new seats. Most of the questions were in a similar vein—digging into people’s motivations and goals for enrolling in the program—and Alex learned that there were not many people in the class who were like her, without any previous medical training. A lot of them were older, returning to school for a second or even third career, and the majority of them were already working as nurse’s aides or caregivers of some sort.

  It was beginning to make sense to Alex why she felt like the only nervous one in the bunch.

  Then Mr. Chase called her name.

  “Alexandria McHenry,” he said, and she winced. He noticed it and asked, “Problem?”

  “I never go by my full name,” she said. “I prefer Alex.”

  “Alright,” Mr. Chase said, completely nonplussed as he scribbled the corrected name onto her index card and then put it down on her desk. “Plant yourself, Alex.”

  She sat down, then looked at her question. What will make you a good EMT? She wanted to laugh—after half the class talked about their medical experience and the loved ones that they cared for at home, she was no longer sure that she was in the right place.

  But everyone was looking at her and waiting, so she read the question out loud and then said, “I’ve been told that I’m good in a crisis. I’m calm on the outside even when I’m panicking inside. I make level-headed decisions most of the time, and people tell me I’m comforting.”

  “Thank you, Alex,” Mr. Chase said, then flipped the next index card down on the desk beside her.

  Three

  A few weeks into her second year of medical school, when October was under way and the smell of burning leaves could be found whenever she went outsid
e, Megan went with her class to the County Medical Examiner’s Office to observe an autopsy. They were in the middle of a pathology module in class and they had been discussing the causes of disease, so Dr. Morrow arranged for a clinical experience that would tie into his lectures.

  Megan had been in a cadaver lab for her human anatomy courses last year, but this was one of her first forays into seeing an actual patient, regardless of whether that person had a pulse. Chloe was so excited for it that she had barely slept the previous night, and this morning Megan found her sitting at the dining table with her pathology textbooks and Gray’s Anatomy, squeezing in a little last-minute studying while she waited for her oatmeal to warm up in the microwave.

  “What do you think the cause of death is going to be?” she had asked as Megan shuffled toward the coffee maker.

  “Mmpfhh,” Megan groaned. She would have been more excited about the field trip if she hadn’t woken up with a pounding migraine that morning, and her only concern at that point had been to caffeinate as a means of counteracting it.

  “Maybe it’ll be a murder,” Chloe said, her eyes lighting up. “Like something on CSI.”

  “Doubtful,” Megan had said.

  “Hey, a girl can dream,” Chloe answered, irritated that Megan wasn’t in the mood to play along with her. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and went into her bedroom to get dressed while Megan propped her hands against the kitchen counter and waited for the coffee to percolate, her head throbbing behind her eyes.