Lakeside Hospital Box Set

by Cara Malone

  The patient’s face was red and his lips were swollen to at least twice their normal size, but he was breathing shallowly thanks to the creative tracheotomy. As ridiculous as it looked, Krys had to admit that it was possible that the pen saved his life.

  “You a doctor?” Krys asked the woman as she took a needle full of epinephrine from a nurse standing at the ready beside her.

  “An Army combat medic, ma’am,” the woman said. Her posture certainly indicated that – it was rigid as a board.

  “What did you do to sterilize the site before you trached him?” Krys asked. Internally, she was praying that this woman had a good answer, because if it was nothing, then the guy would be in for a rough recovery.

  “I used alcohol from the restaurant bar,” the woman said. “I know it’s not perfect, ma’am, but it was the best thing on hand.”

  “Okay,” Krys said. “Go wait by the nurses’ station, MacGyver. I might have more questions once we stabilize him.”

  The woman walked over to the counter at the far end of the ER, favoring her right side, and then Krys turned all of her attention back to her patient. She gave him the epi to stop the allergic reaction, then asked the nurse to call surgery.

  “She didn’t do a bad job all things considered, but he’s going to need some patching up,” Krys said.

  In truth, the more she looked at the incision in the man’s neck, the more impressed Krys became. This was clearly a severe allergic reaction, and if there had been any delay in the paramedics’ arrival, the man could have died of asphyxiation well before he ever got to the hospital. She might have done the same thing if she’d been in this situation.

  “Do you know specifically what he’s allergic to?” Krys asked the paramedics as they transferred the man into the hospital bed.

  “Shellfish,” one of them said. “Guess there was some clam juice in his meal.”

  “What about his family?” Krys asked. She nodded to the woman at the nurses’ station and asked, “Is she it?”

  “I don’t think so,” one of the paramedics said. “Sounded like they were doing one of those meet-up things.”

  “What the hell is that?” Krys asked.

  “You know, when you meet strangers to make new friends,” the nurse said.

  “Oh,” Krys said, glancing over at the woman again. She had short-cropped, dark hair that accentuated her features, and her eyes were expressive as she looked around the ER and took in the wonderful chaos that Krys loved so much. That woman had trouble making friends? Krys turned back to the nurse and said, “Get identification from his wallet and see if you can contact the family.”

  The paramedics packed up and left while Krys placed an IV to give the patient a drip of antihistamines. Then Ivy showed up to assess the cut and decide if surgical intervention would be necessary.

  Her eyes went wide as soon as she saw the pen.

  “Have you lost control of your ER?” she asked Krys. “The hospital buys trach tubes for this, you know.”

  Krys rolled her eyes and nodded in the direction of MacGyver over at the nurses’ station. “It wasn’t me - it was her. She’s a combat medic.”

  “Interesting,” Ivy said as she took a look at the woman. “She’s hot.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” Krys asked.

  “Just an observation,” Ivy said as she bent over the bed to examine the patient.

  “Ever since you and Chloe moved in together, you’ve been insufferable. Just because you’re blissfully happy doesn’t mean the rest of the world has to suddenly pair up, too. Did you know that?” Krys asked, to which Ivy simply grinned at her. Then Krys said, “So what do you think of my patient?”

  “He received an impressively clean tracheotomy with unconventional tools,” she said, looking again at MacGyver and nodding her respect. Then she told Krys, “I don’t think this is a surgical case.”

  “Okay, thanks for the consult,” Krys said.

  “You’re welcome,” Ivy said. “You should ask her out.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Krys said. “And unprofessional.”

  “She’s not a patient,” Ivy said with a shrug. “And you know you’re impressed with this. Just think about it.”

  Krys rolled her eyes and was grateful when Ivy headed out of the ER. She brushed aside the thought and called the nurse back over, who had been able to locate the patient’s family thanks to an emergency contact card in his wallet. With a quick glance at the attractive, mysterious woman waiting for her at the nurses’ station, Krys prepared to remove the pen.

  By the time the patient was stabilized and breathing on his own again, at least twenty minutes had gone by and Krys was surprised to see the woman still waiting for her at the nurses’ station. She’d asked her to stay, but most people wouldn’t have stuck around the ER on account of a stranger for so long.

  Krys’s heart took a strange leap toward her throat at the idea of talking to her, and for that she blamed Ivy. She’d been right – the woman was hot – but that had nothing to do with this.

  Krys stripped off her gloves and left the patient in the hands of one of the nurses, then went over to the counter and extended her hand. “I’m Dr. Krys Stevens.”

  “And I’m MacGyver,” the woman said with a wry smile. She slid her hand into Krys’s, giving it a firm shake. “Although I more often go by Darcy Cosgrove.”

  “I’ve never seen a ballpoint pen jutting out of someone’s neck before,” Krys said. She wasn’t sure whether she meant it as a criticism or a compliment – she really thought she ought to give Darcy a hard time about it – but Darcy just smiled at her.

  She had smooth, olive skin and her lips were a natural shade of rose that Krys found her eyes being drawn to. When she refused to be admonished for her cavalier tactics, Krys had trouble sticking to her guns.

  “I’ve seen a lot worse,” she said. “Is Freddie okay?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Krys said, and Darcy finally relaxed a little, slouching against the countertop.

  “Good,” she said. “I’ve only met him three times before today and I’d hate for him to remember me as that woman who stuck a pen in his neck and made things worse.”

  Krys laughed and it came out as more of a giggle than she intended it to. Ivy really had wormed her way into her head with that dumb comment. She grabbed a tablet from the nurses’ station and started jotting notes just to have something to do – single-tasking was not really in her repertoire, but she found herself reluctant to walk away from Darcy.

  “So are you active military?” she asked with her eyes on the tablet.

  “No,” Darcy replied. “Honorably discharged three months ago due to injury and going stir-crazy ever since.” She looked down at herself and frowned, then added, “Shit.”

  “What?” Krys asked, intrigued. The fact that Darcy blushed before responding only served to make her more curious.

  “In all the commotion, I left my cane at the restaurant,” Darcy said.

  “You seem to be doing okay without it,” Krys observed, taking the opportunity to look at Darcy a little more closely. She had an athletic build that Krys could see even through the loosely fitting striped t-shirt and khaki chinos she wore.

  “I’m in physical therapy,” Darcy explained. “I was hit by some shrapnel on my last tour and it did a number on my thigh. I’ve been forced into retirement because of it, hence the random meet-ups with strangers.”

  “On the bright side, he pretty much has to call you for a second date after you saved his life,” Krys said, peeking up from the tablet again.

  “God, no,” Darcy said with a pleasingly enthusiastic denial. “This was not a date, and Freddie’s not really my type. In fact, I’m beginning to think the meet-up scene just isn’t for me. I’ve had more disastrous ones than successful ones.”

  Krys felt an urge to pry into Darcy’s response, or maybe the earworm that Ivy had left in her head was what urged her to pry. But before she could, a couple in their sixties cam
e into the ER clutching each other’s hands and ran over to Freddie’s bedside as soon as they saw him.

  “That must be the parents,” Krys said. “I should go talk to them. Come with me – they’ll want to meet the woman who saved their son’s life.”

  “Nah,” Darcy said. “I’m not the bragging and accolades type. I’ll just sneak out when they’re not looking.”

  “Okay,” Krys said. She might have considered arguing with Darcy about this point – she really did deserve to be acknowledged – but she probably wouldn’t have wanted the attention if it had been her, either. She set the tablet down, then asked an impulsive question. “What qualifications do you need to be a combat medic, exactly?”

  “Generally, an army medic is trained as a basic Emergency Medical Technician,” Darcy said. “I’ve been doing it for ten years so I’ve got an advanced certification as a paramedic as well.”

  Krys smiled – that would work – and reached over the nurses’ station again to grab a slip of paper and a pen. She wrote Russell’s name and phone number on it, then handed it to Darcy. “If you’re tired of the meet-up circuit, give my friend Russell a call. He runs a free clinic and he could always use someone with your qualifications and, well, let’s call it creativity.”

  She grinned at Darcy, a look that bordered on flirtatious, and wondered what the hell had come over her. She had no time for dating and hadn’t so much as thought of it in years, and yet suddenly she was very curious about who exactly was Darcy’s type.

  Plus, Russell really did need all the help he could get. The free clinic was chronically understaffed and underfunded. Someone with Darcy’s problem-solving skills would be a great addition to the team.

  “Thanks,” Darcy said, looking at Krys instead of the paper. She folded it and tucked it into the pocket of her pants, then said, “I just might give him a call.”

  “Do that,” Krys said, and then she headed for Freddie’s bed before Darcy could see the embarrassment rising into her cheeks. She shifted her focus, telling Freddie and his parents what had happened, and the next time she looked toward the nurses’ station, Darcy was gone.

  4

  Darcy

  The next time Darcy went to physical therapy, she asked Miss Blackburn about working in the clinic. She was standing with one hand on a balance bar and a thick rubber strap tied around both of her thighs, slowly stretching it outward to strengthen the muscle and looking at her cane leaning against the wall.

  “I would love to make myself useful again,” she said. “I haven’t been out of work this long since high school and it feels indulgent to be spending so much time at home doing nothing.”

  “You’re not doing nothing,” Amanda said, tightening the band to make the exercise a little more challenging. “You’re recovering, and doing it with incredible speed.”

  “Well, in any case,” Darcy said, “I was thinking about giving the clinic coordinator a call. Do you think I’m up for it?”

  “Are you going to have to run any marathons while you’re seeing patients?” Amanda asked.

  “No,” Darcy said.

  “What about leaping tall buildings in a single bound?”

  “It’s a free clinic, not a job moonlighting as a superhero,” Darcy said with a smile.

  “Then I’d say you’re not giving yourself enough credit,” Amanda said. “How did you fare with the rock climbing last week?”

  “I chickened out,” Darcy said, giving the band one last stretch with her knees and then letting it drop to the floor. She busied herself with stepping out of it so that she wouldn’t have to see Amanda’s disappointed look.

  Darcy knew that her progress was good. When she first talked to her doctors after the surgery, they told her that she’d likely need a cane for the rest of her life, and she was already proving them wrong. She still needed it now, but Amanda seemed convinced that wouldn’t be the case for long, and she’d gotten by without it fine when she’d left it at the restaurant after Freddie’s allergic reaction.

  But making physical progress was different from coming to terms with it all emotionally. She’d lost more than just a chunk of her vastus lateralis muscle when she was injured, and the idea of limping up to that rock wall and finding herself incapable of performing the task was too much to handle.

  “All the more reason to try the clinic,” Amanda said. She really was good at being supportive, even when Darcy wasn’t at her best. “I can’t think of a single reason why you can’t do that job, but if you get there and realize there is, then at least you tried it.”

  “That’s true,” Darcy said. Then she laughed and added, “I don’t know how many more meet-ups I can take in any case. I’m going to have to give my brother a piece of my mind for that suggestion.”

  Darcy went home after her physical therapy session and retrieved the little slip of paper that Dr. Stevens had given her from the dresser in her room. Harvey plopped down on top of her feet as she sat on the edge of her bed and gave Russell a call. He didn’t answer right away – first she spoke to a receptionist, then got put on hold for five minutes, and then the receptionist checked in on her again, and finally a winded man came on the line.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “We’re swamped this afternoon.”

  “I could call back if this is a bad time,” Darcy said, but he refused the idea.

  “No, it’s fine,” he said. “I’ve got about ten minutes before I need to check on a pregnancy test. Mary at the front desk told me that you’re Krys’s friend?”

  “Well, we’re not friends,” Darcy said, although a smile did creep into the corners of her mouth at the thought of working with the doctor from the ER. She’d enjoyed watching how skillfully she worked, and Darcy didn’t think she was making up the flirtatious look Dr. Stevens gave her when she handed over Russell’s number. The idea of seeing her again was intriguing at the very least. Darcy explained, “I met her last week in the Emergency Room and she suggested that I call you. I’m a retired Army combat medic with EMT certifications, sir.”

  “She said you might call,” Russell said. “She told me you were resourceful and your emergency response was impressive.”

  “She did?” Darcy asked. She was surprised because she’d gotten the impression that Dr. Stevens didn’t particularly care for her ‘MacGyver’ ways.

  “Yeah,” Russell said. “But it sounds like she didn’t tell you much about this place. We run mostly on volunteer labor. There are a few part-time spots that open up here and there, but I can’t promise anything.”

  “Volunteering would be fine for now, sir,” Darcy said. “I’m recovering from an injury I sustained in the line of duty and at the moment, I’m just looking for an excuse to get out of the house a few nights a week.”

  “That we can do,” he answered. “And it’s Russell, not ‘sir’.”

  “Yes-” Darcy had to cut herself off from replying with a crisp Yes, sir! – a military habit that was hard to break after a decade. She adjusted her speech to match the doctor’s casual attitude and said, “You got it, Russell.”

  “Why don’t you come in later this week and I’ll show you what the clinic is all about,” Russell said. “We can talk about your schedule and responsibilities then.”

  “Sounds good,” Darcy said. They set a date and time, and then Russell got called back to the clinic and they hung up.

  She looked down at her faithful golden retriever, his head resting on top of her foot. She reached down to pat his head and he panted happily at her.

  “I’m going to save some lives, buddy,” she said. Then she took his face in her hands, ruffling his ears as she said, “I love you, but I don’t want to spend every night watching Dancing with the Stars with you, no matter how hot Victoria Arlen is. You’re gonna have to get a new hobby.”

  The free clinic was in downtown Evanston. Darcy arrived around one o’clock in the afternoon two days after her call with Russell, walking through a crowded waiting room to the check-in counter.


  “Hi, I’m here to see Russell,” she said to the woman behind the glass. “He’s expecting me.”

  “He’s with a patient at the moment,” the woman said. She was wearing a scrub top with Mickey Mouse silhouettes printed all over it and she smiled as she asked, “Are you Darcy?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Darcy confirmed.

  “I’m Mary,” the woman said. “Just a sec.”

  She got up and a moment later, opened a door to the left of the check-in counter. She shook Darcy’s hand, then led her down a short hall to an office. Mary stepped aside and gestured Darcy into it, then asked her to wait for Russell there.

  “He’ll probably be about five minutes,” she said with a warm smile. “We’re not too busy at this hour on a weekday.”

  “Thank you,” Darcy said, sitting in a plastic molded chair in front of Russell’s desk. Mary left her to go back to the check-in counter and Darcy looked around. The office was tiny and wood-paneled, and the furniture looked like it was from the seventies. Russell’s medical degree hung in a large frame behind his desk and it stuck out as one of the nicest things in the room.

  The desk itself was cluttered with files and medical reference books lined a shelf below the window. Darcy’s back was just beginning to ache from her upright posture – she was terribly out of practice – when a man’s voice boomed behind her and Russell rushed into the room.

  “Darcy Cosgrove,” he said, loud and boisterous as he grabbed her hand and shook it vigorously. “Nice to meet you, I’m Russell Pearson.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.”

  Russell dumped a fresh set of files on his desk and leaned casually against it instead of sitting down. Then he said, “Thanks for coming in – with a recommendation from Krys Stevens, I couldn’t wait to meet you.”

  “A recommendation seems generous,” Darcy said. “I hardly know her.”