Saving Dr. Tremaine

by Jessica Matthews

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  Before she could turn the knob, someone pounded on the frame so hard her dried flower wall arrangement lost a few of its leaves.

  The last time such an eager visitor had come to see her, seventy-year-old Edith Moore had fallen down the stairs. Fighting down a strong sense of foreboding, she flung open the door and saw eight-year-old Nate Hoover, who lived on the first floor with his mother and sister.

  “It’s Mom,” he said without preamble. “Can you come?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ANNIE didn’t hesitate. “Of course, I will. What’s wrong?” If Monica was hurt, Annie wanted to bring her first-aid kit.

  Nate’s eyes darted to Jared who stood silently beside her. “You’ll come now?” he asked, as if afraid she’d refuse because of her guest.

  “Now,” she reassured him, switching to her calm, professional paramedic voice. “Tell me exactly what’s wrong with your mom. Did she hurt herself?”

  Nate’s freckles stood out in sharp contrast to his pale face and red hair. “No. She just said that she didn’t feel good and if you were home to come right away. Her face has these funny red blotches,” he added.

  Monica had been fighting a cold for several weeks, so the appearance of red blotches didn’t make sense. Annie needed more information but she doubted if young Nate would be of much help.

  Jared broke in. “Is she having trouble breathing?”

  Once again, Nate shrugged. “Dunno.”

  “Well, then,” Annie said cheerfully so as not to alarm the child, “I’d better take a look at her.”

  Nate appeared relieved. “I’ll tell her you’re coming.” The sound of his pounding feet faded as he disappeared down the stairs.

  Jared followed her into the hallway and closed the door behind him. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Why? What do you think is wrong?”

  “It could be anything from an infection to a reaction. I’m here so I may as well take a look—unless you’d rather I didn’t.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “If you’re willing to help, far be it from me to discourage you.”

  “Are these people friends of yours?” he asked as they passed the elevator with its “out of order” sign and started down the stairs.

  “Yeah. Monica works ten-hour shifts for the telephone company—she lays cable and installs phones, that sort of thing—so, to keep Nate and his sister Wendy from being latchkey children, they come to my place after school if I’m not working. Haven’t you seen them around?”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t know their names. Then again, I’m not too familiar with most of the people who live in this building.”

  She stared at him, incredulous. “When did you move in?”

  “A year ago.”

  “And you don’t know your neighbors?” She shook her head in amazement.

  “I know you,” he corrected. “Most of the residents I’ve met have apartments on the other side of the courtyard.”

  The four buildings forming this complex surrounded a central courtyard containing a small playground, an outdoor swimming pool, and the recreation building. This small structure housed a fully equipped exercise gym and several rooms suitable for parties or other tenant gatherings.

  “I can’t believe you don’t know the people in our immediate vicinity.” She pointed to 2C as they passed by. “Jack and Mary Carter live there. He’s a diabetic and she’s a retired legal secretary. Edith Moore is in her sixties and lives alone in 2D, but right now she’s in a skilled nursing facility. She fell down the steps shortly after I moved in and broke her hip. We’re not sure if she’ll come back or not.”

  She noticed how he walked on her outside as they turned the corner to the first-floor staircase and chalked up a mental point for him in the manners column. “George Banks is a computer technician and a whiz when it comes to fixing electronic stuff. He’s quite shy, but in exchange for looking at his toe when he dropped his tool kit on it, he fixed my printer at no charge.”

  “It sounds as if you’ve made a lot of house calls.”

  She smiled. “A few. People know what I do for a living, so they’re always asking for my opinion. Mainly they want to know if they should see a doctor or not. If they do, I hold their hands until the ambulance arrives.”

  “And if you’re not here?” he asked.

  “Sometimes they wait until I come home, but generally they either visit the ER or call their family physician. I’m surprised they don’t knock on your door.”

  As soon as she’d spoken, she knew the answer. If he’d lived here for a year and didn’t know his neighbors, except as nodding acquaintances, the chances were that no one felt comfortable asking for his advice.

  “I’m out a lot,” he simply said. “So, do you know the medical history of everyone in our section, or are you the resident medico for the entire complex?”

  She grinned as she paused outside 1C. “I could tell you about a lot of Robin Estates’s tenants, but I’ll save that for another time.”

  Nate opened the door before she could rap on it. “Annie’s here,” he called over his shoulder.

  Annie walked in and saw Monica sitting on the sofa, her face and arms covered with a sprinkling of red weals. Six-year-old Wendy, who was a redhead like her brother, sat on the floor, holding her Game Boy.

  “Aren’t you a pretty sight?” she told her friend.

  Monica grimaced. The red spots stood out in stark contrast to her fair skin and short blonde hair. “No kidding.” Her gaze traveled over Annie’s shoulder. “Thanks for bringing company while I look like a circus sideshow reject,” she said wryly, her sense of humor still intact.

  “Hey, what are friends for? Besides, Jared isn’t company. He’s one of us.” Annie made the introductions. “And I’m sure he’s seen more horrible sights than a thirty-year-old woman with blotches.”

  “Much worse,” he assured her.

  “That makes me feel better.” Monica addressed Jared with a bright smile. “After all the things I’ve heard, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

  Jared shot one of his raised-eyebrow glances at Annie. Clearly, he was wondering what she’d told Monica about him, but Annie wasn’t going to explain. Some conversations were only meant for a woman friend’s ears.

  “Same here,” he answered. “I think.”

  Monica chuckled. “Don’t worry. Annie speaks highly of you.”

  “Does she, now?” He sounded skeptical and curious.

  Preferring to keep her heart-to-heart chats private, Annie changed the subject. “When did you start breaking out?”

  “About thirty minutes ago. I’m not running a temp and other than the fact that I’m about to go out of my mind from the itching, I feel fine.”

  Annie took her radial pulse. “Your rate is high,” she said, reciting the number of 150 to Jared. “How’s your cold?”

  “Better, but it was actually a sinus infection, not a cold. I went to the doctor two days ago. I called his office when this started.” She pointed to her arms. “But they haven’t called back yet. That’s why I sent Nate to find you. I didn’t want to tie up the phone.”

  Before Annie could ask the question on her mind, Jared beat her to it. “Did he prescribe any antibiotic?”

  Monica nodded. “Yes, but I can’t remember what it was. Nate, would you bring the pill bottle on the sink?”

  While the youngster obeyed, Jared continued to fire questions. “Do you have any known allergies?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “How does your chest feel? Your throat? Are you having trouble breathing?”

  Monica rubbed her breastbone. “It’s starting to feel tight, like when I have a bad chest cold. My throat doesn’t hurt, but it’s a little hard to swallow.”

  “When did that start?” he asked.

  “Right before I spoke to the nurse and sent Nate to Annie’s apartment.”

  Jared exchanged a worried glance with Annie. If Monica was suffering from
an allergic reaction, as Annie feared once she’d heard about the antibiotic, it could affect her airway if something didn’t halt the process going on inside her body. In fact, she could hear the distinctive wheezing that was a sign of the bronchioles closing.

  Nate returned with the bottle and, clearly succumbing to Jared’s authority, handed it to him.

  He glanced at the label before passing the bottle to Annie.

  “It appears you’ve developed a penicillin allergy,” he told her. “We’ll need to request an ambulance.”

  “An ambulance?” Monica was aghast. “Can’t someone drive me to the hospital?”

  “You need epinephrine right away,” he said. “The swelling in your chest and throat could easily get worse before it gets better, and if that happens, I’d rather you’re with someone who has the proper equipment. Do you keep any antihistamines?”

  “If you mean Benadryl,” Monica said, using a trade name, “then, yes, I have a bottle.”

  Annie had an idea. “What about that epi-pen from your last vacation?”

  “We still have two of them,” she said. “Nate? Do you know where they are?”

  He nodded then took off to retrieve them.

  “They’re only the junior size, though,” Monica fretted.

  “No problem. We’ll use both to give you the adult dosage,” Jared answered smoothly. “But why do you—?”

  Because most people didn’t routinely stock prefilled epinephrine injections in their medicine cabinets, Annie explained. “Wendy is allergic to bee stings, so they keep the shots on hand.”

  “I’ve taken penicillin before and didn’t have any problems. And I’m not taking it now either,” Monica protested.

  “The drug the doctor prescribed is a derivative of penicillin,” Jared explained. “A lot of people don’t develop an allergy until after they’ve repeatedly come in contact with it. Some never do. You just happen to be one of the unlucky ones.”

  “Goody.”

  Nate returned with the syringes and handed them to Jared. With the treatment under way, Annie went to call 911 and Monica’s mother. When she finished, she’d found Wendy and Nate standing nearby.

  “Is Mommy really sick?” Wendy asked, her eyes as wide as Nate’s.

  Annie hugged them close, wishing she could take the two of them home with her. “Yes, but she’s going to be fine.”

  “She’s ’llergic, like me?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “But a bee didn’t sting her, did it?” Wendy looked around the room fearfully, in case one was hovering nearby.

  “No, honey. The medicine that was supposed to help her feel better is responsible.”

  “How come the doctor didn’t know before he gave it to her?” Nate sounded upset.

  “Because he didn’t know at the time,” Annie soothed. “But he will next time. Your mom knows, too, so don’t worry. She truly will be fine.”

  “OK.”

  By the time she’d herded the children back into the living room, Jared had dispensed the medication and the EMS team had arrived.

  Martin Tucker, a seasoned eight-year veteran, and Rena Hrabe, his partner who’d joined the department a few months before Annie, strode in with their equipment. Annie briefed them on the situation while Rena began her initial assessment.

  “We’ll start an albuterol dose by nebulizer on the way,” Rena assured Annie and Jared. In no time they had loaded Monica onto a stretcher with an oxygen mask in place and headed toward the ambulance. As soon as she and Rena were in place in the back, Martin closed the double doors.

  “You cost me five bucks, Annie,” he teased, as he strode toward the driver’s seat.

  “What for?”

  “When we heard the address, Rena said you’d be on the scene and I bet her you wouldn’t.”

  “Don’t you know you shouldn’t gamble?” Annie teased.

  “I do now,” he said glumly. “That’s the third time I’ve lost. I’ve learned my lesson.” He slid behind the wheel. “See you around.”

  “Drive carefully.”

  He flashed her a wide smile, then started his engine. Annie stepped onto the sidewalk where Wendy and Nate stood watching the situation with a combination of fear and curiosity on their small faces.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, as she wrapped an arm around each of them. “Your mom will be back soon, as good as new.”

  “When?” Nate asked.

  “It depends,” Annie said. “It might be later today. If not, then probably tomorrow.”

  “Can we visit her?” Wendy asked.

  “I’m sure you can. Hey, aren’t you two supposed to be in school today?”

  Nate shook his head. “We’re off on account of a teacher in-service.”

  “Lucky for your mom that you were home, then,” Annie praised. With the excitement over, her adrenaline rush had started to fade. “Why don’t we go inside and wait for your grandmother?”

  “Should we pack our things?” Wendy asked.

  “I’d wait until you hear from the doctor how your mother’s doing,” Annie advised. “Take a book, though, to help pass the time because she’ll probably be in the hospital for several hours, if not longer.”

  “Can I play with my Game Boy instead?” Wendy asked.

  “Good choice,” Annie said.

  “I’ll bring mine, too,” Nate chimed in.

  Monica’s mother breezed in a few minutes later. “Sorry I’m late,” she said breathlessly. “The traffic was awful. How’s Monica? I want to know everything.” She eyed Jared, then extended her hand. “I’m Sharon Potter. And you are?”

  Jared reciprocated. “Jared Tremaine.”

  Wendy ran to hug her grandmother. “The ambulance took Mommy to the hospital. Annie and Dr Jared said she had to go.”

  “Monica had a reaction to her antibiotic,” Annie explained. “She was having trouble breathing, so Jared and I thought she should be in a place where they could deal with any complications.”

  “Complications? What sort are you talking about?”

  “It’s difficult to say,” Jared answered. “But it’s better to be prepared for the worst than not, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Sharon replied.

  Immediately she turned back to Annie and fired question upon question. Annie patiently answered, but her tired brain could hardly keep up. She sent an apologetic glance at Jared who was clearly growing impatient, but what else could she do except let Sharon talk? It came as a relief when the older woman addressed Jared.

  “You’re a doctor?” Sharon asked.

  “I cover Hope’s ER.” From the way she’d been grilling Annie, Annie wondered if she would ask to see his credentials.

  “Tell me how my daughter can take penicillin all of her life and suddenly become allergic to it.”

  “Immune systems sometimes work in strange ways,” he said.

  “When will she be able to come home?”

  “I can’t answer that. You’ll have to ask her physician.”

  Annie braced herself for another lengthy question-and answer period, but this time Jared would be in the spotlight. To her surprise, he quickly ended the session.

  “Now that you’re here, Annie and I should be going. We wouldn’t want to delay your trip to the hospital. I’m sure Monica will be glad to see you.”

  Sharon nodded. “You’re absolutely right. Come, children. Let’s check on your mother.”

  “You got us out of there quite smoothly,” Annie said a few minutes later as she trudged up the stairs. “I was afraid she’d want the play-by-play account one more time.”

  “I was, too,” he confessed.

  Annie giggled. “How many times did she ask the same questions?”

  “I lost count. I can’t believe you let her rant on and on.”

  She shrugged. “On a good day, Monica’s mother doesn’t stop talking, and today she was worse because she needed reassurance.”

  “How long would you have le
t her cross-examine you?”

  “As long as necessary,” she said simply.

  He nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You were too kindhearted to send her on her way. So I took matters into my own hands.”

  Annie had learned to listen for both what was said and what wasn’t when treating her patients. His slight emphasis on ‘kindhearted’ made the word seem more like a flaw than a compliment. How he could be so charming one minute and turn into the opposite in the next was a mystery she wouldn’t solve any time soon.

  She stopped in her tracks. “You thought I needed rescuing?”

  “Sharon was wound up like a tightly coiled spring and you weren’t making any effort to stop her.”

  And she’d been about to thank him for arranging their speedy exit. “Let me get this straight. You stepped in for me?”

  At her sharp tone his face grew wary as if he’d suddenly realized he’d entered dangerous waters and didn’t quite know how he’d gotten there. “You were tired. I was only trying to help.”

  “Did I ask or send a signal that I needed your help?”

  “You looked at me like you wanted me to do something.”

  “I was apologizing on Sharon’s behalf, not begging you to save me from her.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Did what? I ended a conversation that wasn’t going anywhere except in circles. A few seconds ago you were happy about it.”

  “I was, er, I am. I just thought you cut her off because you wanted to leave, not because you thought I couldn’t save myself.”

  “But you weren’t.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Then what is?”

  “If I’d wanted to get away from Sharon, I would have. I didn’t want to.”

  He stared at her, incredulous. “So you were willing to repeat yourself fifteen times?”

  “No, but…” Because she was contradicting herself, she said, “I was in control.”

  “Could have fooled me,” Jared muttered as he shook his head. “I’m confused. You’re glad we’re not stuck in Monica’s apartment with her mother, but you’re upset because…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’d better run that by me again.”