by Pamela Toth
The cubicle was a small oasis of relative calm within the noise and stress of the department. Carrie stood next to the bed where a woman lay huddled.
“Anna, this is Dr. Hart,” Carrie said.
Anna watched Zoe with a wary expression as she cradled her arm gingerly with her other hand. There was dried blood on Anna’s cheek, her lip looked swollen and a dark bruise was forming around her eye.
“I don’t want a male doctor to examine me,” she said, tears threatening to spill over.
Zoe swallowed her frustration. Intellectually she knew this kind of abuse was entirely too common for a number of reasons; emotionally she just plain didn’t get it. What part of love inflicted this kind of pain?
“That’s all right,” she said gently. “Carrie and I will take good care of you, okay?” She glanced at the nurse, recognizing the compassion in her eyes as she reeled off the patient’s vitals.
After Chris had sent one patient with internal bleeding to surgery, ordered a battery of tests for another and sent a third up to Radiology for an X-ray, he returned to curtain three to check on Zoe’s assault victim.
When Officer Task had first brought Anna Minsky to the E.R., she had been extremely upset, but while Chris talked to her he could see her emotions begin to shut down. Even though Anna had insisted that she hadn’t been sexually assaulted, a specially trained volunteer from the closest women’s support center had been called. The volunteer would be available in case Anna was interested in hearing about the help and resources that were available to her.
Although Chris had complete trust in Zoe’s medical skills, he hadn’t observed firsthand her ability to connect with patients on an emotional level. Since he had a moment between crises, it wouldn’t hurt to check on both Zoe and poor Anna.
Someone had brought Officer Task a chair as Chris had requested, so he could sit down while he drank his coffee. When Chris pointed toward the cubicle, the officer shook his head.
“The other doc is still in there with her.” He tapped the clipboard on his lap. “I’m still waiting to finish my report.”
“I’ll see what’s going on,” Chris replied. As he was about to part the curtains, a receptionist rushed up.
“Dr. Taylor, do you have time to take a phone call? It’s the pharmaceutical rep from McGraw wanting to make an appointment.”
Sales reps were always bringing samples of new drugs and other supplies, a necessary but annoying part of his position as E.R. director. “Get a name and number,” he said impatiently. “I’ll have to call them back.”
When Chris looked into the cubicle, he was surprised to see that Zoe was seated next to the bed holding Anna’s hand in both of hers. Anna lay back against the pillow with a large dressing on her cheek.
“How’s it going?” he asked when they both looked up.
“I don’t think her arm is broken, but I’ve ordered an X-ray to be sure,” Zoe replied. “I explained that a volunteer will be coming in to talk—”
“I don’t need a shrink!” Anna exclaimed. “If that cop is still hanging around, you can tell him to leave. All I want is to get the hell out of here.”
“Dr. Hart thinks you should have an X-ray,” Chris reminded her. “It won’t take long.”
She sat up in bed and swung her legs to the side. “Look, I appreciate your help, but I’m not some battered wife, okay? I’m not a victim. My boyfriend and I had an argument that got a little hot, that’s all.” She shook back her hair. “Now can I please use a phone to call Bert so’s he can come and get me? Pretty please?”
Chris exchanged a glance with Zoe. “You heard her,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll get Officer Task.”
“I’m not pressing charges!” Anna’s voice rose. “We’ll be fine.”
“I hope you’re right,” Chris said sincerely. “The last thing anyone here wants is to see you come back, because it usually gets worse.”
He had seen too many women like Anna. For whatever reason, they didn’t or couldn’t believe they deserved better treatment than to be slapped or punched, beaten or even raped by the men who claimed to love them.
Discouraged by her refusal to listen, he went to fetch Officer Task. Behind him he could hear Zoe trying to persuade her to wait for the X-ray and the counselor.
Anna wasn’t buying either option.
Good luck, he thought grimly. Women like her never seemed to learn. Odds were that she would be back in worse shape than she was now.
Frustrated, Zoe watched Anna follow her boyfriend out of the E.R. Even though he had appeared concerned when he’d come to get her, the look he had given Zoe was chilling, his eyes flat and cold. Not only hadn’t he taken Anna’s hand, he’d left her to keep up with him as best she could. If she had fainted on the floor, he wouldn’t have noticed.
“Ain’t he a piece of work?” Carrie asked under her breath as she and Zoe watched the couple disappear. “Too bad the cop was called away before Macho Man showed, or that might have been an interesting meeting.”
Zoe was too disheartened to discuss the thug who had picked up Anna. “Did you call the counselor and tell her not to bother?”
“I got her cell,” Carrie replied. “Saved her half a trip anyway.” She touched Zoe’s arm. “Don’t let it get to you. Maybe they’ll beat the odds and it will work out for them.”
Zoe couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice. “Yeah, he looked real sorry for what he did to her.”
“It can be a wake-up call,” Carrie replied. “Maybe she’ll get lucky.”
When the nurse walked away, Zoe looked at the clock and realized that her shift had ended while she’d been with Anna. Inexplicably tired, Zoe went back upstairs for her coat and purse, her thoughts still back in the E.R. Labor and Delivery was fairly quiet and another shift had come on duty, so she was grateful to go home.
Maybe Carrie was right, she thought as she waved at the security guard on duty and went out the front door. Perhaps the boyfriend was really a pussycat despite his tough appearance.
The weather was warmer tonight, giving Zoe hope that spring really had come to Montana after all. She was walking toward the employee lot when she heard the sound of arguing.
The parking lot was empty except for two people standing under a light post. Although they were a couple of rows over, Zoe recognized Anna from the dressing on her face. The man who had picked her up leaned over her, his voice angry, while she pressed herself against the side of an old green pickup truck.
Zoe couldn’t help but feel sorry for the woman, even though she couldn’t make out what they were arguing about. She hesitated, unsure what to do.
Zoe didn’t normally interfere in other people’s business, but neither was she able to merely walk away as though she hadn’t noticed a potential problem. The parking lot was still deserted and she wished that someone else would either come out of the building or drive up in a car and interrupt them.
Before she could decide what, if anything, to do, the man’s voice rose, followed by Anna’s cry. Heart lurching, Zoe considered alerting the guard, but he wasn’t supposed to leave his post at the front door and she wouldn’t want to jeopardize hospital security. She reached for her cell phone, but her fingers touched the pepper-spray canister attached to her key chain. Knowing it was there gave her the impetus she needed, even though she had no intention of actually using it.
“Anna, are you okay?” she called as she walked quickly toward them. “Do you need me to call the guard?” The bully with Anna wouldn’t know that Zoe was bluffing.
“She’s fine,” he shouted back. “No need to call anyone.” He said something, voice lowered, as he grabbed Anna’s arm and pulled her in front of him.
Zoe slowed her stride, waiting for Anna to respond. Zoe prayed that she wasn’t making things worse, biting her lip as she waited and longing for more expertise in knowing what to do.
“I’m okay, Dr. Hart, but thank you for asking.” Anna’s voice was shaky. “Good night.”
Zoe moved c
loser, trying to see if Anna truly was all right, while the boyfriend stared back at her.
“You heard her. She’s just fine,” he said, voice bristling with menace as he dropped an arm as thick as a tree trunk across Anna’s shoulders.
Zoe half expected her to collapse beneath its weight, but instead she cuddled closer to him. “We got stuff to do, don’t we, Doll?” he added. “Private stuff.”
Anna’s head bobbed like that of a puppet on a string. “Th-that’s right,” she stammered. When she turned her head, Zoe saw fresh tears on the cheek that wasn’t bandaged. Frustration rose in Zoe’s throat like bile. “Anna, why don’t you come back inside with me,” she suggested impulsively. “You don’t have to leave—” she’d been about to say with him “—right now,” she concluded instead. Staring down the boyfriend, Zoe extended her hand. “Come on.”
Anna crowded closer to him, shaking her head. “No, that’s okay, really. You should go. Bert’s taking me home.” Her expression seemed to plead with Zoe to not make things worse.
Zoe realized there was nothing more she could do, so she let her arm fall to her side. “Okay, then. Good night.”
All the way back across the parking lot to her Honda, she could feel Bert’s malevolent stare on her back. Finally she heard two doors slam, followed by the sound of a truck engine firing up. She wanted to look over her shoulder in order to see in which direction he was headed, but she resisted. As the truck roared out of the parking lot with its tires burning rubber, three people came walking out the front door.
At least there would have been witnesses had Bert run her over, Zoe thought grimly as she unlocked her car with hands that shook. She doubted that Anna would have the courage to come forward if he had.
“You off work now?” Vadivu asked Zoe when the two women ran into each other in the employee lounge at the end of their next shift. Vu had been working different hours and Zoe hadn’t seen her for several days.
Zoe managed a smile as she lounged back in her chair. Worrying about a patient was usually an exercise in frustration, but she couldn’t help wondering how Anna was doing. If she did end up coming back to the E.R., Zoe probably wouldn’t even hear.
“Yes, I’m off work, thank goodness,” she answered Vadivu. “I’m tired and starved. Want to get a bite somewhere?”
A fleeting frown marred the other woman’s honey-toned complexion. “Aren’t you coming to the pub?” she asked. “Everyone’s headed over there to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.”
“I didn’t know you were Catholic,” Zoe teased, which earned her another puzzled look from the Indian girl.
“I’m not, but why do you ask me that?”
“Never mind, I was just kidding.” Zoe’s only concession to the occasion had been to wear a pair of small, apple-shaped earrings made of green jade. She’d had to point to them more than once today to avoid getting pinched by an overzealous intern.
Vadivu folded her arms, obviously waiting for a reply to her question about the pub.
“I don’t think I could face all that crazed merriment,” Zoe said. “Thanks anyway.”
“No, you must come with me,” the other girl insisted, grabbing Zoe’s wrist. “You live alone, you don’t come over to the parties at the apartment. You’re too much of a recluse, so it will be good for you to get out with people.”
She gave Zoe’s arm a tug. “I will not take excuses. Besides, they’re serving green beer.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice, and gave a delicate shudder. “And corned beef if you are willing to eat that sort of thing, which I am not.”
Swilling down beer of any color and eating pub food with a bunch of loud, tipsy hospital workers didn’t sound the least bit appealing to Zoe, but she figured it would be easier—and quicker—to stop in for a few moments rather than continuing to argue. Besides, being included felt rather nice.
“Okay, okay,” Zoe said with a smile as she gently disengaged her wrist. “Just let me fix my hair first.” She pulled out the pins anchoring it in a loose knot and shook it free. “You want to ride with me?” she asked, digging her brush from her purse.
Vadivu was applying dark red gloss to her full lips. “Yes, please,” she replied when she was done. “Now hurry up, or all the best seats will already be taken.”
Chapter Six
When Chris finally got to the dimly lit pub, it was already filled to overflowing with customers, including a number of hospital workers, all intent on celebrating the holiday properly. Loud Irish music poured from the sound system as green beer flowed from the taps.
While Chris stood in the doorway checking out the crowd, an obviously tipsy lab tech saluted him with a half-full mug, sloshing some on the floor. A middle-aged nurse from the clinic who stood in the crush at the bar gave him a warm smile that he returned with a wink. Several other people smiled and waved. Thunder Canyon might be full of recent arrivals, but there were no strangers on St. Paddy’s Day in an Irish pub.
The paneled walls were decorated with swags of green bunting and paper shamrocks. Matching balloons and silver streamers dangled from the ceiling while the mingled aromas of corned beef and cabbage permeated the air like perfume, reminding Chris that he had skipped lunch. The afternoon’s cases had included a critical heart infarction, a child with a crayon stuck up her nose, a family with food poisoning and a pair of combatants in need of stitches because of an earlier bar fight down the street.
“Hey, Doc Taylor!” The head of the hospital accounting department, seated at a corner table, held up a pitcher of beer like a trophy. With him were a couple of board members and several other doctors, one of whom beckoned to Chris.
Chris returned his wave, but he could see that every chair at the table was taken. Most of the other tables and booths were full, as was every seat at the bar. People stood elbow to elbow, juggling glasses and plates of food as they shouted over the lively fiddle music. Waitresses in green blouses and short black skirts carried full trays through the crowd.
Someone handed Chris a schooner of beer, which he drained in several long, thirsty gulps while he listened to a couple of miners argue about the basketball playoffs. The beer sloshed into his empty stomach, bringing with it a pleasant buzz and a faint warning to eat something before seeking a refill. Friendly people kept stopping him to say hello, which slowed his progress toward the pool table that had been covered with a white cloth for the occasion.
“Dr. Taylor! Over here!”
He looked around to see Barb signaling wildly from a booth where she sat with several other residents, including Zoe and Vadivu. Peter was donning his coat, preparing to leave, so Chris lifted his glass high to avoid getting it knocked from his hand as he changed direction.
“Thank you!” he exclaimed when he reached the booth and Barb slid over to make room for him. “Hello, all.”
During the chorus of greetings, Barb topped off his glass. He caught Zoe’s eye and smiled across the cluttered table. A rush of warmth coursed through him that had nothing to do with green beer or the heat generated by the crowd of bodies. For a nanosecond, the impulse to lean over the table and kiss her seemed like a dandy idea.
No more booze on an empty stomach!
With great reluctance, he got back to his feet. “Will someone save my seat?” he asked. “If I don’t eat something, I’m liable to start dancing a jig on the tabletop.”
“By the saints, that would be a sight to see,” replied Marty in a phony Irish brogue that earned him laughter all around and an elbow in the side from Barb.
Chris wanted to ask Zoe if she would still be here when he got back, but his sensible side knew better than to single her out in front of her co-workers. To his delight, she touched Marty’s arm.
“Let me out, will you?” she asked. “I want to get some cake before it’s gone.”
As she walked with Chris to the buffet table, the crowd parted for her like the Red Sea in a biblical epic. She seemed oblivious to the admiring glances she received from many of the males she passed,
but she was probably used to getting attention from men.
Chris tore his gaze away long enough to exchange hellos with a group of nurses, but he didn’t stop. He noticed Caleb Douglas holding court at a round table near the middle of the room, where the mayor and the chief of police appeared to be hanging on to his every word. They were probably discussing the mine or the ski resort. According to the gossip, Caleb had been running short of funds until his illegitimate son had shown up. His intention had been to ruin Caleb, but he had ended up investing in the ski resort instead.
Caleb probably didn’t need Justin’s money any longer, as long as there was no truth to the rumor about the missing deed to the Queen of Hearts. A loud burst of laughter from Caleb’s table seemed to prove that the wealthy businessman didn’t have a care in the world.
As Chris walked by, Caleb got to his feet and opened his arms to a pair of new arrivals.
“Hello, Son,” he bellowed over the noise, hugging first Justin and then his new bride, Katie, the town librarian.
During the town’s Heritage Day celebration, the couple had been married in what was supposed to have been a fake wedding. Afterwards they’d been trapped together during a blizzard. Now their happy expressions and Justin’s possessive arm around Katie’s waist, anchoring her close, indicated that there was nothing fake about their feelings for each other.
“Are those the newlyweds?” Zoe asked curiously, stopping next to Chris.
“Sure are.” He felt a pang of envy at their obvious happiness. “Can’t you feel the heat?”
For a moment her face looked wistful, but then she raised her eyebrows as she handed him a plate. “It must be nice to own a gold mine.”
Zoe’s comment made him wonder if she had financial concerns of her own despite her new car and the apartment in a building that was nicer than hospital staff housing. Perhaps her folks were threatening to turn off the money tap.
“That’s only a part of the Douglas family holdings,” he replied, helping himself to corned beef, cabbage and boiled potatoes. “Is everything okay?”