Safe in the Surgeon's Arms

by Molly Evans

  “Let’s find out.” Chase moved to the left side of the patient.

  “Sorry, but we have to head back out there. It was worse than first reported. Lots of other crashes, trying to avoid the big one.”

  “Go. We’ve got it.” Chase took his stethoscope and listened to the patient’s lungs.

  Emily hooked up the monitoring equipment then patted the patient’s face. “Can you wake up? Cecilia? Can you open your eyes for me?”

  The woman didn’t move, her eyelids didn’t flutter, and she didn’t try to pull away when Emily pinched her earlobe, a minor test for response to painful stimuli. “Chase, she’s not responding. At all.” Emily pinched a fingernail, but the results were the same. Not good.

  “Get Radiology on the phone. We need a scan of her head right away.” He proceeded round the patient, continuing his examination, then stopped at the head of the bed and pried open her swollen eyelids.

  Emily alerted the department of their need. “They’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  “Good. Lungs are good, belly’s soft. I think the majority of what’s going on is in her head,” he muttered, almost to himself, as he listed her injuries.

  “She’s probably got a fractured femur, as well. The left is swelling up like a balloon.”

  “Dammit. If it’s that fast, we’ve got trouble. Cut the clothing.” Emily deftly sliced the patient’s jeans from hem to hip with her trauma shears, scissors that could cut through sheet metal, then exposed the patient’s leg for Chase to see.

  “There.” Emily gasped. A large shard of wood protruded from the woman’s thigh. “Whoa. Didn’t see that through the jeans.” Emily whistled at the magnitude of the giant splinter.

  “Being there is one thing—if it’s punctured the femoral artery, that’s another thing.” He palpated the top of the thigh, trying to find the end of the irregularly shaped projectile. “I can feel it. We need to open it up before we do anything else.”

  “The head won’t matter if she bleeds to death before we get to X-ray.” Emily made the point and raised her brows at Chase.

  “Right.”

  “What do you want to do first?”

  “Get a cut-down tray. I can use that.”

  Heading to the cupboard, Emily pulled out the sterile tray and placed it on a bedside table. In seconds she had opened the wrappings, keeping everything sterile, handed Chase a pair of sterile gloves and poured half a bottle of Betadine cleanser into a cup on the tray.

  Chase lifted his brows in amazement. “You go, girl!” He scrubbed the thigh near the splinter with the Betadine. “You could work in surgery. You’re very efficient.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll stick to ER. I’m too antsy to stand for long hours.” A bit of warmth surged in her chest at his words. Chase wasn’t one to offer compliments without cause. At least, he hadn’t been in the past; no reason to think that would have changed about him. A person’s core personality didn’t change in three years. But it made her feel good to hear the words, reminding her of how well they used to work together. If only things hadn’t fallen apart.

  When Chase pressed the tip of the scalpel into the flesh beside the splinter and what looked like a river of blood flowed from the opening. “There’s a gusher. Dammit.”

  “What do you need?” Not being an OR nurse, she couldn’t anticipate the way they could, but she would try her darnedest to help Chase save this woman. Now she had to admit she’d missed him, missed this, missed working together when they’d been at their best. Tears pricked her eyes as sorrow turned in her chest. Unable to give in to the emotions right now, she forced them back and concentrated on the patient, on Chase’s instructions.

  “Put on sterile gloves. Put both retractors in and pull them in opposite directions so I can see where the little bastard is.” There was such determination in his face she couldn’t respond in any other way. Some part of her heart melted at this. This was what they did. They did it together, and they saved people. How could she ever have let go of that no matter what had happened to her? She’d been so stupid. So broken.

  Emily complied and was able to do what he needed. Unaccustomed to the strain, her arms tired quickly, but due to her physical training she was able to focus and not lose her grip. “Got it?” Deep breath in, out very slowly. The tremors of her arms were transmitted to the instruments, but she hung on.

  “There it is.” He glanced up at Emily’s face. “Hang on, baby, hang on.” He continued to grumble and cuss at the bleeding artery as if it were a sentient organism bleeding just to annoy him. The click of clamps cut through the air as he identified the correct vessels and used the clamp to hold them in place. “Sutures.” Without looking up, he held out his right hand.

  Emily released one retractor and handed the materials to him with the needle clipped into another specialty clamp designed for sewing. “Sutures,” she repeated.

  “Suction.”

  “One second.” She reached for the suction machine connected to the wall and pulled out the excess blood obscuring his vision.

  “Perfect. You broke scrub with that hand.” He said it without recrimination, just a fact to remind her.

  “I know. Just the right, left is still sterile.” She accepted his statement without rancor.

  “Don’t mix them up.” He gave her a quick glance, then a nod of approval and a wink.

  “I won’t.” Though they were in the midst of an intense situation, something inside her chest warmed at his gentle compliment of her skills when things could so easily have gone another direction. These were the kinds of moments that had bonded them, had knitted them together. Oh, how she had missed them! Now she began to tremble inside for an entirely different reason.

  They worked together to finish tying off the artery. Moment by moment the chaos around them surged and crested as more and more patients were brought in, and the ER was filled to capacity and beyond. This patient was whisked away from the ER to Radiology, then brain surgery.

  Chase and Emily washed their hands, changed gowns and gloves, and took the next patient. Hours and hours passed as they repeated the scenario several times. Though some patients had been diverted to other hospitals nearby, the worst came to them because they were the best.

  “I feel like I’m in the TV show M*A*S*H.” Emily shook her head in wonder and widened her eyes.

  “Feel like you’re working in a war zone?” Chase asked, and he gave a tired sigh. “Me, too.”

  “Yes. Just no one shooting at us.”

  “Yet.”

  “Don’t you remember that one episode we watched?” Emily stood very stiffly, mimicking the character. “The one surgeon, and his famous quote: I do one thing. I do it very well, and then I move on. You could be him.”

  Chase huffed out a laugh despite himself, despite the exhaustion of the day and the critical patient lying between them. “It’s true. I do have a tendency to be overly focused at times.”

  Emily laughed naturally for the first time since they’d been working together and it felt wonderful! It may have been the first time in years she’d felt this good. “And then, after we watched the M*A*S*H marathon, we...” She paused and the laughter slid away and the joy faded from her eyes as the rush of memories hit her. “Yes. Well. That was back then, wasn’t it?”

  Chase paused and met her gaze fully. He took a step toward her, his gaze burning into hers, urgency and questions swimming there. “Yes. And this is now.” He cleared his throat. “Emily—”

  “How are you two doing in here?” Liz asked as she charged into the room, looking frazzled and exhausted herself.

  “I think we’re ready to finish up with this patient, right, Chase?” Emily asked, looking away. He noticed a tremor of her hand as she reached for the surgical instruments on the tray table, and two of them clattered to the floor. She’d just exceeded every pos
sible expectation with the surgical instruments, and now she had butter fingers? Something else was going on, but it would have to wait.

  “Yes.” He heaved out a sigh and rolled his shoulders to ease the stiffness there. That short moment when he had connected with Emily vanished. “How many more are out there?”

  “We’ve cleared the decks. Eight damned hours later.” She raised her arms in the air and did a victory dance around the room like a mixed-martial-arts fighter. “Wahoo! We did it. God, I’m tired.”

  “Eight hours? Are you serious?” Emily removed her protective gear. “I had no idea.” She tossed the wadded-up gown at the trash can, but missed by a mile.

  “This one is good to go, just needs a room with a view.” Chase removed his gear and wadded it up, preparing to give it a toss across the room like a basketball player, but noticed a change in Emily, and he dropped the gown to hurry over beside her.

  “You need to sit down.” He hesitated to touch her, but she looked like she needed it.

  “I’m fine. Legs are wobbly from standing so long.” She attempted to take a few steps. “I’ll shoosh it off in a misnus.” She took those few steps, then her eyes went wide, and she reached for his arms. “Ch... Shase?”

  He quickly wrapped his arms around her as she went down.

  Liz dropped her clipboard and rushed to them. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “My guess is low blood sugar.” His gut tightened as his brain went wild with all the crazy possibilities, but he wrangled them back. Keep it simple. Things like this were usually simple.

  “I told everyone to eat something.” Exasperated, Liz clucked her tongue.

  “About ten seconds before we got our first patient, Liz. Neither of us had time to get anything.” He hated snapping at her, but he was as worn out as everyone else, and his concern for Emily overrode his good sense.

  “Let’s get her to the lounge, we’ll check her blood sugar and you two can get something to eat.” Liz made the suggestion and held out her arm for Chase to lead the way.

  “I’m slirpy fio.”

  Chase lifted her into his arms, some protective instinct tugging at his chest, wanting him to shield her as he should have done years ago. “Yes, you are slirpy fio. Now shut up.”

  He shouldered his way through the lounge door and set her down on the couch. Liz appeared seconds later with the blood-sugar monitor. “Let me see your hand.”

  Chase rattled around in the refrigerator and pulled out a jar of orange juice, poured some into a glass and held it to Emily’s mouth. “Here. Chug it.”

  “Wait! Check the expiration date!” Liz held up her hand to stop him. “Some of that stuff’s been in there for months. It could be rancid.”

  Instead of doing as instructed, Chase took a large drink of it. “It’s fine.” He returned the glass to her mouth. “Drink.”

  Emily took a few sips, then jumped when Liz pricked her finger for a drop of blood to check her blood sugar. “Ow.”

  “Really? That made you jump? Aren’t you some hotshot kung fu expert?” Chase kept asking questions, trying to make sure she stayed awake until her blood sugar rose out of the danger zone. It kept his nerves under control and his hands from shaking.

  “Hap-hapkido, An’ that hurt.” She frowned, and her lower lip stuck out. Before he leaned over and kissed that luscious lip, he pressed the glass against it again.

  “More.”

  “Okay. Your sugar is forty.” Liz provided the information with a downward turn to her mouth. “Too low, my friend.”

  “Oh.” She drank the rest of the juice.

  “You guys got this? I’ve got the rest of the crew to check on.”

  “We’re good now. Go.” Chase pulled a chair alongside the couch, needing to be a little closer physically to Emily, though she wasn’t very happy about being touched by him. The close proximity appeased his need and didn’t breach her boundaries.

  “Got any protein in the fridge? Cheese or something? I’m going to need some when the juice is gone.” She was no longer slurring her words, and she was able to hold the glass without trembling.

  “Let me check.” He rummaged around and found hard cheese, a jar of peanut butter and some bread. At the table he cut a chunk of cheese and handed it to her, then proceeded to slather the bread with peanut butter. Two slices. One for him, one for her.

  “Great midnight snack.”

  “Actually, it’s the after two a.m. snack.” He sat again, the effects of exhaustion now hitting him. “Whew. I’m beat, too.”

  Emily looked at her watch with surprise showing on her face. “Seriously? Two a.m.?”

  “Yep. If I didn’t have to take you back to the fire station to get your car, I’d just crash in one of the on-call rooms.” One of the few benefits of on-call: a readily available bed, no driving involved.

  “I can call a cab. No big deal.” She started to swing her feet over the edge of the couch.

  “That’s not what I meant, Em. Just meant...” He held out a hand to her, but hesitated. Then he looked into her eyes, wanting so much to connect with this woman, but he didn’t seem to know how. Every time he faced her he faced his guilt, and it stopped him.

  After a second’s hesitation her eyes met his and the anger, the pain in them softened. Instead of being angry, instead of yelling at him or breaking his hand, she slowly stretched out her hand and laced her fingers with his.

  “I know. It would be easier without me.” The tone of her voice dropped with emotion he could feel pulsing off her. It matched the emotions churning inside him, and he looked down at her, at this petite woman who had been through hell. He wanted to reach out to her, to make it all go away, to somehow take them back in time to the place they used to be, to the people they used to be, but it was impossible.

  “That’s not what I meant, either.” He dragged his hand through his hair and blew out a long sigh as she extricated her hand from his. “I’m just tired, too.”

  “We have to be back at seven. We’ll only get a few hours of sleep.” Now she was back to being professional and that moment of connection was gone. But she had reached out to him and that meant something, didn’t it? She had let him touch her and had initiated the contact.

  “Don’t remind me. But there’s more than one on-call room, there’s a shower, we can eat here.” He presented the option to her. It was what he would have done if left to his own devices. He didn’t even have a house plant that required his attention so he didn’t have to return to his place for days if necessary.

  “I have a routine I do at night. I want my own things.” She swung her feet to the floor and wobbled a bit when she stood. “Whoa.”

  “You’re not fit to drive yet. Your blood sugar hasn’t stabilized, so driving home isn’t an option for you, either.” There was going to be no argument about that.

  “Well, I want to go home.” She put one finger up. “Correction. I’m going home.”

  “Okay. You can go home, but only if I drive you.”

  “Then how will I get to work?” She took a few steps, testing out her muscles again, but grabbed on to the table. “Oh. Still dizzy. Dammit.”

  “I’ll pick you up and take you to your car in the morning.”

  Liz burst through the door. “Okay. Schedule change for everyone. Since you can’t realistically or legally show up here in five hours, we’re sliding your shift back until eleven a.m.”

  “How are you covering the morning, then?” Emily asked, and folded her bread in half and took a bite, but leaned against the table for support.

  “Nights will stay a little longer in the a.m., and then will come in a little later tomorrow night, then we’ll be back on track with everything the next day.”

  “Good plan.” Chase picked up his sandwich, folded it in half. “Let’s get out of here before
she changes her mind.”

  “Okay. I’m ready.” Defeated, Emily followed him, too tired to argue any longer. Without a word she reached for Chase’s elbow and tried to look nonchalant as she held onto him. Falling on her face would definitely have no dignity, so this was the lesser of two evils.

  Immediately, Chase looked down at her, reminded once again of how they used to leave the hospital together after a long shift. She would lean on him, and then they’d sleep for hours tangled up together, drawing strength from each other as they’d slept.

  They emerged from the ER into the dark and chilly fall night. Stars shone brilliantly overhead and a light breeze moved inland, bringing the scent of the ocean with it.

  “Nice night.” Chase led the way to his car.

  “This is the kind of night I want to curl up with a fuzzy blanket and a hot cup of cocoa and just melt away.”

  “You used to do that, as I remember.” The brunt of a memory kicked him in the gut as he got into the car. He paused for a second to take a deep breath. So much had happened to them. So much time had passed. So much pain had been left unresolved and it still haunted him daily, even though he tried to deny it.

  “I indulged too often back then. Now it’s a luxury.” She reached for the seat belt and buckled it.

  He started the car and pulled out onto the empty roadway, easing onto the street. “Where do you live?”

  “Fisherman’s Point apartment complex.”

  “I drive by there on the way to work every day.”

  “Then you know how to find it.” She pressed her head against the cool glass window and closed her eyes, trusting him to get her home. When she felt Chase’s hand rest on top of hers she didn’t protest. It was an old gesture and one she drew some comfort from now. Besides, she didn’t even have the energy to muster a defense against him had she really wanted to. All of it had been used on their patients, and she’d been drained dry. Her boundaries were at their lowest right now, and she cupped her thumb around his pinky, reaching out to him in a small way to offer him some comfort in return.