by Scott, Laura
She shivered and told herself to stay focused.
“His blood gases have been marginal. We have him on some very high ventilator settings,” the nurse said. “We just increased his level of pressure support.”
Zane nodded and stashed the paperwork under the mattress of the gurney. “We can provide the same settings on our portable vent.” He turned the dials on the ventilator, then glanced at Jenna. “Ready for the switch?”
“Yes.” She disconnected the tubing from the hospital ventilator and made the change using the portable ventilator tubing. The monitor continued to show a pulse-oxygen reading of 92 percent. “All set.”
“Good. Let’s move.” Between the three of them, they slid the patient over onto the gurney. Jenna made quick work of buckling the straps around their patient.
Zane took a minute to look everything over one last time, before giving Jenna the nod to move out. She could feel the nurse staring at them, but to her surprise, Zane didn’t so much as glance back or betray any interest in the nurse whatsoever. He fell into step on the other side of the gurney, helping her wheel the patient toward the elevator while keeping the monitor in his direct line of vision.
Once inside the elevator, they pulled their helmets on at the same time. Jenna watched the monitor, too, noting that Mack’s pulse-ox reading had dropped to 91 percent.
Reese waited for them in the helicopter. They approached from the front, waiting for his signal before heading around to the back. Within moments, they had Mack tucked inside. Jenna jumped into the back, leaving Zane to close the hatch behind her.
“Ready?” Reese asked once they’d connected their helmets to the communication system.
This time, Jenna double-checked to make sure the main switch of her microphone wasn’t on before answering. “I’m good to go.”
“Me, too,” Zane added.
Jenna barely noticed the liftoff because a blinking light on the monitor caught her eye. Now the pulse-ox reading was 90 percent. She bit her lip and tested the various ventilator connections to make sure there wasn’t a leak somewhere.
“Something wrong?” Zane frowned.
“Yes, I think so. His pulse ox is dropping.” Jenna knew a reading of 90 percent was still acceptable, but she sensed something was wrong. “I’m going to suction him.”
“All right.”
She tried to ignore Zane’s intense gaze as he watched her perform the task. No doubt he was waiting for her to contaminate the sterile catheter. She had to bite down hard on her lip to keep from being her normal klutzy self around him and doing just that.
“I’m not getting much in the way of secretions,” Jenna observed when she completed the task. “Guess that’s not the problem.”
When the pulse-ox reading dropped to 88 percent, the numbers on the screen began flashing in warning. Jenna leaned closer to get a better look at the breathing tube. She tested the balloon of the tube, and it seemed fine, but then she looked at the markings along the side. “Zane? What if the tube is out too far? The marking is at twenty-three centimeters at the lip, which seems wrong. Especially for someone his size.”
“You could be right. Hand me a ten-cc syringe.”
She handed it over, then peeled back the tape on Mack’s face holding the breathing tube in place in preparation for the switch.
“Look out!”
Mack coughed, and Jenna lunged forward to grab for the tube, but a millisecond too late. Despite her efforts, the breathing tube flew out of Mack’s throat, landing on his chest.
“Quick, give me another size seven endotracheal tube.” Zane’s voice rose in alarm. “I need to intubate him, or we’re going to lose him!”
3
Don’t die, please, don’t die. Jenna pulled out an oxygen mask and used the Ambu bag to give Mack deep breaths. Her hands were steady, but inside she wondered how long they had before his tenuous condition deteriorated to the point of no return. A minute? Two minutes? Five?
“Do we have any Versed handy?” Zane demanded while getting his equipment together.
“Yes, here’s a five-milligram syringe.” Jenna passed him the medication between breaths.
Mack’s reading dropped to 85 percent. Then 83 and lower to 80 percent. His lungs were severely injured, and without the additional pressure support, they wouldn’t be able to maintain a decent oxygen level in his blood. Jenna concentrated on giving him the deepest breaths she could.
Hang in there, Mack. For your son. For Bryant. He needs you. Your wife needs you. Don’t give up.
“I’m ready,” Zane told her.
Jenna gave Mack one last big breath, then removed the face mask. Zane used the laryngoscope to visualize Mack’s trachea, then slid the breathing tube into the opening. Thanks to the Versed, Mack remained relaxed and didn’t fight the procedure.
“All right, I think I got it.” He held the tube firm while she slid a device onto the end to check the tube placement.
“It looks good.” She placed a hand over the patient’s chest, feeling to make sure the chest wall rose systematically with each breath. The hardest thing for Jenna to get used to was the way she couldn’t listen to breath sounds during a flight.
“Hand me the vent tubing.”
Jenna pulled the ventilation tubing over, connected it, and then helped secure the endotracheal tube in place.
For long moments, they stared at the monitor. Mack’s breathing had dropped, his pulse ox dipping down to a low of 71 percent, but it steadily climbed back to a more acceptable range. She found herself holding her own breath as the numbers changed from 79 to 82, then 87 percent. She didn’t relax until the oxygen saturation returned to baseline at 92 percent.
“The tube is twenty-six centimeters at the lip.” Zane lifted his eyebrows. “You were right, the tube was out too far. We didn’t dislodge it during our transfer, did we?”
“No, I noticed right away it seemed out too far.” Jenna was confident about that. She was always careful not to dislodge central venous catheters and endotracheal tubes during transfer. “Maybe I should’ve said something sooner. We could have avoided this near disaster.”
“Hey, look at that. His pulse ox is better now than when we left Green Bay. He’s up to ninety-five percent.” Zane placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “Good job.”
“Yeah.” Jenna wished she could feel the same sense of triumph blazing from his gaze, but she couldn’t help thinking they shouldn’t have lost the breathing tube in the first place. Everything had happened so fast. She felt her heart skidding to a complete stop as the tube came flying out. She never wanted to experience that again.
“Jenna.” Zane’s quiet tone forced her to meet his gaze behind the clear shield of his mask. “The tube popped out because it wasn’t in far enough. Not your fault. In fact”—his grip tightened on her shoulder for emphasis—“I can’t believe you picked up the tube placement as the problem. You’re wasting your skills. You would be a great doctor or nurse. Why don’t you consider going back to school?”
He made the statement very casually as if there was nothing stopping her from following through on his suggestion. He had no idea how hard it had been to get herself to the paramedic training program while putting food on the table and paying a mortgage, not to mention working two jobs—one in a fast-food restaurant and the other as an emergency medical technician for an ambulance company. Oh sure, she’d love to go to medical school. No problem.
Obviously, his brain cells didn’t function very well up there on Pluto. Must be the lack of oxygen.
“I don’t think my skills are wasted at all.” She was careful not to come across as too snotty, knowing Reese was cued into their conversation. “My role here at Lifeline is important.”
“Of course, it’s important.” Zane’s neck grew red above the collar of his flight suit, and he backpedaled so fast she almost smiled. “I didn’t mean that at all. It’s just you’re so very smart. You can do anything you want with your life.”
No, she couldn�
��t, but why burst his bubble with the grim truth? She picked up the clipboard and jotted down the necessary notes about the in-flight reintubation. Maybe someday she could go back to school but not now. Not any time in the next four to five years either. Rae’s future was at stake. Jenna wouldn’t rest until her sister had been given every opportunity she herself had been denied. She wanted her sister far away from the rough influence of residing in the poverty-stricken side of the city.
No matter what the cost.
JENNA WAS glad when they dropped Mack off in the ICU at Trinity Medical Center. His condition remained stable during the rest of the flight, and by the time they’d returned to the hangar, most of Zane’s overtime had passed. Thank goodness, she wouldn’t be forced to endure Zane’s company for much longer.
Reese landed the chopper at Lifeline. Jenna quickly disconnected her helmet from the communication system, grabbed the flight bag, then jumped to the ground.
Zane followed her. With any luck—of course, she wasn’t willing to bet on it—they wouldn’t get any more calls in the twenty minutes Zane had left of his extended shift.
After storing her helmet inside her locker, Jenna headed for the supply room to replace the equipment they’d used in flight. As she restocked, she couldn’t help wondering why Rae had skipped school. Or rather, where she was hanging out while skipping school, since it was easy to assume her sister blew off the last day of school before finals for no good reason other than it was nice outside.
Hopefully, she wasn’t hanging out at her boyfriend’s house. The thought of Nelson and Rae spending the whole day together made her stomach knot with worry.
Once Jenna had the flight bag restocked, she returned the bag to the hangar, then turned on her cell phone to dial Rae’s phone. She knew it wasn’t likely Rae would answer when she recognized Jenna’s number
Two rings, three, then straight to voicemail. Jenna gave an exasperated sigh as a polite voice invited her to leave a message.
“Rae, I know you skipped school today so don’t try and pretend your phone is off. If I don’t see you at the MCCT tonight at eight sharp, I’ll hunt you down.” Annoyed, she snapped her phone shut.
“The MCCT?” Zane asked from behind her. “What’s that?”
She spun around to find him lounging against the locker. “You were listening,” she accused.
He raised a brow. “Not on purpose. I was actually waiting for you to finish with the bag so we could finalize the flight record.”
Ha! She wasn’t buying that. Ignoring his question, she stepped around him and strode back toward the lounge.
“It’s rude not to answer a question.” His tone was mild as he doggedly followed. “What’s the MCCT? A place like the Fiserv Forum like where the Milwaukee Bucks play? I’ve never heard of it before.”
“You wouldn’t.” The idea of the MCCT being anything like the Bucks’ flashy new Fiserv Forum almost made her howl with laughter. Closest she’d ever gotten to a Milwaukee Bucks professional basketball game had been when she’d applied for a job serving food at the concession stand as a way to earn extra cash. She wouldn’t be surprised if Zane had season tickets for Bucks games. People who live on The Hill don’t hang out at the MCCT—Milwaukee Community Center for Teens.
“The MCCT? Do you have a game tonight, Jenna?” Reese asked, coming into the lounge and overhearing the last part of her statement. “If Samantha is feeling better, maybe we’ll stop by to watch.”
She gritted her teeth and tried to smile because she knew Reese was just being the nice guy that he was and not doing this on purpose. But she didn’t really care to have Zane know every little detail about her social life—or lack thereof. “Have you spoken to Samantha? Is she feeling better?”
Reese shrugged. “A little. The nausea hasn’t disappeared, but she hasn’t thrown up for three whole hours. Thankfully.”
“What game?” Zane reminded her of a rottweiler with his favorite chew toy clenched between his teeth. Why wouldn’t he just let the subject drop? His intense, expectant gaze told her he wouldn’t.
“Basketball,” she grudgingly admitted. “I coach a girls basketball team.”
“I see, your sister plays.” He nodded in understanding.
Jenna scowled. Rae wouldn’t play tonight. Her rules were clear—skipping school landed your butt on the bench.
“Hi, everyone.” Charles Simons entered the room. “Zane, you look pretty good for being up all night.”
Jenna hated to admit that he did, with his chocolate-brown hair messy from his helmet, clear green eyes, and the dimple that flashed when he smiled, which only ticked her off more.
“It wasn’t so bad.” He flashed another of his lethal grins. “We did an ICU to ICU transfer from Green Bay—took most of the morning.” Zane glanced at his watch and stifled a yawn. “Guess I better get some sleep. Thanks for coming in, Charlie. Bye, Jenna, Reese.”
“Goodbye.” Jenna watched his tall, broad-shouldered frame disappear through the doorway. After the way he’d hovered around her all morning, it seemed odd for him to leave so fast, but hey, maybe she should count her blessings.
She breathed a sigh of relief and grinned at Charlie. At least the rest of her shift would go by faster now that Zane was gone.
And she was very glad she wasn’t scheduled to fly with him again anytime soon.
ZANE DIDN’T SLEEP WELL. He kept waking up, thinking he heard the phone ringing, which was ridiculous because he always turned his phone off when he worked nights. And who exactly was he expecting would call? Jenna? Hardly. She acted as if he didn’t exist.
Which shouldn’t have rankled. But it did. What was wrong with him? He was nice guy, made a good living, was kind to animals, and didn’t have psychopathic urges to hurt people.
And what did he care anyway? He’d been engaged, but it hadn’t lasted long. His fiancée had changed so dramatically afterward, becoming a control freak he’d barely recognized, that he’d sworn he’d never make the same mistake again.
He gave his head a rueful shake. Get over it, Taylor. Maybe Jenna made his hands go damp with sweat, but she was more than just a little preoccupied with trying to control her sister’s life. He could easily imagine Jenna combing the entire city searching for her sister, who is probably just out having a good time.
The way most kids did at that age.
He didn’t understand the need some people had to control others. His father had pulled worse stunts when Zane had been young. And his sister had been the one to suffer, more than he had.
No sense in dwelling on the past. But he did feel a certain kinship for Jenna’s sister. For some reason, he had the urge to meet the infamous teenager for himself. Maybe he could convince Jenna to back off and give her little sister a bit of breathing room.
Swinging his legs out of bed, he reached for his phone and dialed his buddy, Ethan Weber. “Hey, Webb, what’s up?”
“Nothing much. Hanging around until Kate needs to leave for work. Why?”
“How would you like to switch shifts with me?” Zane sucked in a hopeful breath. “I really need off tonight.”
“Hey, Zane, you know I’d rather fly with Kate, but I thought you were the one who needed Saturday night off for some family deal?”
Rats. He’d forgotten he’d switched shifts with Ethan to have Saturday night off. He ran a hand through his hair. Well tough beans, he didn’t care. Going down to the Milwaukee Community Center for Teens to see Jenna and her delinquent sister sounded far more interesting than his father’s anniversary party, celebrating two years of marriage to the latest stepmother. He often called her Stepmom the Third, which she didn’t find amusing.
The party would be boring. Especially when he knew the gathering was nothing more than an excuse to invite a bunch of single women over for his benefit. When would his father give up trying to direct his life? He’d be angry if Zane didn’t show up but too bad. He’d just have to come up with a good excuse.
“I changed my mind.” Zane
lurched to his feet and padded down the hall to the kitchen in his bare feet. “I’d rather work Saturday. Will you do it?”
“Sure. Why not?” He was glad Ethan didn’t sound too upset. “This way Kate and I can both go out on Saturday night like we originally planned.”
Zane grimaced. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked Ethan to switch shifts in the first place. Ethan and Kate were newly engaged, they deserved to have the same days off. “Thanks, I owe you one.” Zane hung up and rubbed the palms of his hands together. He had just enough time to grab something to eat and to shower before heading down to the MCCT.
He wondered what Jenna’s reaction would be when he showed up to see her coaching in action.
After getting lost twice and stopping at a dilapidated-looking gas station for directions, he finally found the MCCT, not too far from the spot where they picked up the victims of the car crash the previous night. The neighborhood looked even worse tonight for some reason. Maybe because it seemed people were staring at him as if wondering why he was invading their turf. His casual jeans and T-shirt shouldn’t have looked out of place, but amidst the baggy cargo pants, sleeveless shirts, and heavy gold and silver jewelry, his clothes obviously labeled him an outsider.
There wasn’t a decent parking spot to be had, so Zane drove around several times before he found a space he could squeeze his Lexus into, five blocks from the center.
The basketball game was in full swing when he arrived. His gaze zeroed in on Jenna right away. She wore a tiny pair of denim shorts and a worn, threadbare sleeveless cotton blouse that hugged her curves in a way that should’ve been illegal. Her long black hair, still in its single braid, hung down her back. She carried a clipboard in her hand and referred to it frequently. Her attention was solely focused on the girls, one team wearing red and white jerseys the other wearing blue and green, as they pounded the court fighting for the ball.