Socialite...or Nurse in a Million?

by Molly Evans

  “Okay.” She turned with Vicky and released a tremulous sigh.

  Miguel watched them go and then prepared himself for the next patient of the day.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “SO, is that your typical emergency around here?” Vicky asked Miguel as she followed him down the hall and around the corner to the staff lounge, which looked as if it had once been a large closet.

  “We really see anything and everything here,” he said, and put two cups of water in the microwave. “Coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  In minutes he had heated water for the both of them and as Vicky watched, he opened a jar of instant coffee, spooning an uncertain amount in each cup. Hiding a grimace, she accepted the offering from him.

  “Here’s to your first day.” He sipped and then sat at the small table. “We’ve only got a few minutes before we have every room full, so I’ll give you the orientation of how I do things as we go. It’ll be easier that way, rather than just telling you about it.”

  “I learn better that way, too.” Vicky sipped from the cup, anticipating a vile brew. She wasn’t disappointed. She tryied to hide her revulsion then reached for the sweetener on the table. “I think this needs a little sugar.”

  Miguel chucked. “You’re being too kind. It needs a lot more than that, but my taste buds were nearly destroyed by residency. If you’re wanting good coffee, you’ll have to bring your own in a thermos or something. The coffee fund went away with the budget cuts.”

  The stuff was despicable beyond description. Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out a pack of mints and popped one in her mouth, hoping that it would kill the taste. “Oh. No worries. I’ll figure something out, but I hope you won’t be offended if I don’t drink this,” she said, and started to pour it into the sink.

  “Wait, I’ll take it.” Miguel reached for the cup.

  The poor man. No coffee fund? Horrors. She thought a second about a friend who had a coffee delivery business. She was going to have to talk to him. “So, tell me some more about the clinic.”

  “Oh, right.” In just a few minutes Miguel had given her the quick history of the clinic, how he had taken it over on the brink of closure and brought it to life again. “The really unfortunate part is that our grant money is ending and the city is uncertain whether they can find money for this place. The state of the economy has hit them, too.” He tugged at the lapel of his lab coat, and his lips pressed together firmly for a second. “I’m working every angle I can but it’s just not coming together yet. There’s got to be something else that will help.”

  She could see the worry etched on his lean face. He put a lot of energy and probably his heart into this clinic. “What about having a fundraiser?”

  “The only fundraiser I’ve held myself is a bake sale, and we can’t have enough of them to fund the clinic. The community has put together some car washes, stuff like that, but it’s just not going to be good enough for long-term funding.”

  “No, I mean a big fundraiser where people and corporations donate large amounts of money for tax deductions. That’s the kind you need.” She’d put together a few of them herself and knew what it was all about. At least that’s how things got done in her family’s world. Things just snapped into place when a Sterling-Thorne wanted something done. You called your wealthy friends for donations or put on dinners and gave everyone a good time for their money. Couldn’t that be done in this community, as well? Though it was foreign to her, there had to be some common ground.

  Miguel heaved a sigh that spoke of long frustration and Vicky sensed that she’d unwittingly brought up something she shouldn’t have. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the clinic was in a bind.”

  “You couldn’t know.” He gave an unhappy smile. “We’ve fortunately had a benefactor for several years. He died last year and the family has decided not to continue his charity work. The city might come through, but maybe not. We won’t know until July or so what they can do, when their budget is finalized.”

  Anger surfaced in her at the injustice. She’d just started there and now it was in danger of closing. “That’s just wrong. Is this a historic building or something?” Vicky asked, wondering how she could help save this little clinic.

  “Good idea, but no. It’s not old enough to be considered of historical significance, so there’s no help there either.”

  The door to the tiny lounge burst open and a young man popped his head through the doorway. “Chest-pain patient coming.”

  “Chest pain trumps everything else,” Miguel said, and they rushed out the door.

  They dashed into a patient room where the young man she assumed was Carlos had disappeared into. Miguel was a man of energy, each movement strong, self-assured and confident, even though the patient looked quite gray. Vicky gritted her teeth and prepared herself, immediately switching on the E.R. nurse in her. Now was not the time for nerves.

  “Get the crash cart ready,” he said, his voice low, “and then get a line in him. Two if you can manage it.”

  Tilly hurried into the room. “I’ve called 911 for transport.”

  “Thanks, Tilly,” Miguel replied. “He’s going to need hospital care for sure. We’ll get him as stable as possible first.”

  “Code cart is ready, Doctor,” Vicky said, after tugging the massive tool kit on wheels to the patient’s bedside. “Do you want to start a nitro drip?” Knowing her emergency medicine drills by heart, she hoped that she could anticipate Miguel’s needs, as he hadn’t been able to do any orientation with her yet.

  “Yes.”

  The other two in the room seemed to know their roles well. Carlos hooked up the heart monitor, which looked as if it had come from an old hospital supply house. It was practically an antique, but it worked, and that was probably all Miguel wanted out of it. Next, he applied the automatic blood-pressure cuff. Tilly inserted an IV with a sure hand and hooked up the nitro drip that Vicky had prepared.

  “The medication we’re giving you should ease your pain quite a bit,” she said to the male patient, who appeared to be in his mid-sixties. With one hand, she adjusted the oxygen mask over his face. His breathing was shallow and grunting, which was extremely worrying. She glanced at the monitor, interpreting the squiggles immediately. “Looks like he’s having an infarct right now.”

  Miguel also looked at the monitor then at Vicky with surprise at her precise interpretation. “You’re right. Start a potassium drip and give him an amp of magnesium.” Leaning over the patient, he said, “Try to slow your breathing down.”

  “I’ll do the mag—you get the drip ready,” Tilly said, and together they got the medications prepared and into the patient.

  Soon they heard the sound of sirens. “I’ll go and get them,” Carlos said, and dashed to the door. Vicky called out vital signs now and then so Miguel didn’t have to keep looking up at the monitor.

  Miguel remained focused on the patient situation, not being distracted by the other activity. “Keep the fluids going, increase the nitro drip.”

  “Yes, Doctor,” Vicky responded, and although her hands trembled slightly, she changed the setting on the IV pump to the next level. “I hope it opens his vessels a little. He needs better circulation than he’s got.”

  “Agreed.” Miguel hit the print button on the old monitor that hung on the wall and a segment of the ECG appeared on paper, which he tore off. “He’s got some serious S-T segment changes.”

  “Should we send that strip with him to the hospital?” she asked, knowing that the E.R. doctor there might appreciate that additional information to compare with further ECG interpretations.

  “Yes.” He pushed the print button again and a second strip printed from the machine.

  The E.R. crew arrived, following Carlos, and in just a few minutes they had the patient transferred to their stretcher and he was out the door.

  Vicky took a few deep breaths and placed a hand on her chest. “Wow. That was something.”

  Miguel’s lips co
mpressed into a line momentarily then he nodded, as if conceding something. “That was something. A trial by fire on your first day. Good job, everyone.”

  A flush of pleasure pulsed through her. Compliments certainly were unexpected at this point, especially after some of his earlier comments. “Why don’t I get the room ready for the next patient?” she asked. A few minutes alone would do her some good, and she hoped that her limbs would stop shaking. She hadn’t been prepared for such an urgent situation on her first day.

  “I’ll get the next few patients lined up,” Tilly said, and returned to the nurses’ station.

  “Sounds good.” He stepped out the door with Tilly and after a glance back he paused. “I’ll just wash up first,” he said, and returned to the room.

  This was usually the time she collected her thoughts, after the scary stuff was over. A time she could allow herself to mentally go over the situation, make sure she’d done everything she could have and settle her churning stomach.

  Miguel cleared his throat and looked at her, then his glance bounced away. “You were fine, Vicky,” he said, startling her. She hadn’t realized that he’d finished and was standing so close to her.

  “I always second-guess myself, you know? Did we do everything and do it right?”

  “I do know, and that’s good, not bad. Reviewing a situation with a team member is always good to do. Emergencies like that don’t come through the door every day, so it can be a little nerve-racking.”

  “I’m just thankful I didn’t forget anything in the middle of it all, you know?” She opened the top drawer of the code cart. “I suppose you have replacement medications somewhere?”

  “In the med room. Tilly can show you where.” Vicky stopped and looked up at him. He was a head or so taller than her, and she was pretty long and leggy. She wore her pale blonde hair in a swingy bob that just grazed her collar. She was trim and had the look of a runner. Her eyes were a startlingly clear blue, and she had a nearly flawless complexion. There was a small scar on her left cheek that he wouldn’t have noticed had he not been so close to her. It was probably from childhood chicken pox or something. Without it, he would have called her delicate, but the mark saved her from being too perfect. At least on the outside.

  And he wondered again what this woman, who came from nearly unprecedented wealth, was doing in his humble clinic. The monthly income from the family business could probably finance his entire clinic for ten years. It boggled his mind to see her behaving just like any other nurse he could have hired. Frankly, he’d been against hiring her, but due to desperate measures he’d given in and offered her the job. Tilly had supported the idea of hiring her, and though his instinct had protested, he trusted Tilly implicitly. Vicky had looked good on paper, but that didn’t mean she could hold up under the kind of pressure they sometimes got in the clinic, though she certainly had today. He hadn’t changed his opinion in a few hours. Only time would tell, but he didn’t totally mistrust her.

  “What’s wrong?” She held his gaze, and nothing but curiosity swirled there. “You’re looking at me strangely.”

  Miguel met her gaze and held it for a few moments before answering. “What are you doing here?”

  “You hired me.”

  Frowning, he shook his head. That hadn’t come out right. “I mean, what is someone from your background doing at a clinic like this? Shouldn’t you be working at a private hospital somewhere?”

  “I could doesn’t mean I should or that I even want to.”

  The light in her eyes faded, and she stepped back a pace. A frown flitted across her face, but he supposed he’d surprised her by his question. He ignored the squirm that it caused in his stomach. He’d learned the hard way, too, that people were hardly ever what they seemed.

  “On the surface things are different than they really are. You must know that.”

  Wariness appeared in her eyes and her lips compressed. “I see. You don’t think I’m capable of handling this job despite my excellent references and my performance during the crisis we just went through?”

  “I know you’re capable of it, but I don’t know why you want to do it. With your family background—”

  “Forget my background. Please. I’m here for the same reason as you, Doctor. I’m here to help people who really need it, not putting ice packs on someone who’s had too much plastic surgery.” She huffed out a sigh.

  “Seriously, what makes you want to do this kind of work?” That was the big question. What made anyone want to do this kind of work? He had his reasons, which were private, very personal, and he wasn’t about to share them with Vicky.

  “If you’re through being prejudicial, I’d like to get back to work. Tilly can orient me for a while if you need a break from someone like me.” She turned to leave the room.

  “Listen, that’s not what I meant.” Dammit. He hadn’t intended to have this conversation and now that he was it was coming out badly.

  “I think it’s exactly what you meant, Doctor.” Pausing, she looked over her shoulder with a tight smile.

  “Vicky, this isn’t coming out right.” He tugged on his lab coat and straightened it, giving himself a moment to think. “I simply don’t understand why someone who has all the opportunities in the world would choose to settle for a small clinic in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Maybe I don’t consider it settling. I consider it an opportunity to expand my knowledge and skill base as a nurse.” She shrugged and the steam seemed to fade out of her. “In nursing, if you don’t keep your skills up you get stale and forget things. I don’t want to forget things.”

  He’d have to accept that at face value, because at the moment he could find no other obvious motivation. “That’s true for doctors, as well.” He flipped his stethoscope around his neck and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Guess I’ll get out of your way and let you finish up.”

  “Won’t take long now.” Vicky flashed a look at her watch and gave a surprised laugh. It was a nice sound, and one he didn’t hear often yet. “Wow. It’s only eleven. Feels like it’s quitting time already.”

  “I know that feeling of strange time passage when you’re in the midst of a code or something.” He’d had that feeling even before his residency. When he’d held his dying brother in his arms so long ago. That had been the first time, and he’d never forgotten it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE rest of the day passed by in a rush of patients, most with minor complaints, upper respiratory issues and someone who had flattened a finger with a hammer. She and Miguel reverted back to their professional roles after the short exchange in the patient room. There was safety in her role, and it was one she knew well. She’d performed it often.

  In her family, she’d been forced to play a role that she’d been desperate to escape for years. There had been various reprieves during nursing school and her short marriage. Now that she lived in the caretaker’s cottage on her family estate and not under her father’s thumb, she had found some relief. Living under her father’s roof again was not an option. Only by helping others who needed it and being a nurse did she truly escape the artifice of her family’s reputation, which always seemed to be more important than she was. When she entered the family domain, she was once again Victoria Sterling-Thorne, name before nursing.

  Nursing was too personal, they thought, too hands-on. Just donate money from a distance and be done with it was their philosophy, and she didn’t agree with it. There was simply something within her that wouldn’t allow her to do that. A sigh eased out of her. She wasn’t going to fix them, and they weren’t going to influence her any longer. So back to work for now was the only answer.

  The clinic stopped taking new patients at 4:00 p.m., so they were out the door by five when the clinic officially closed.

  “I gotta go, M. If I’m late for dinner again, my mother’s going to have a fit.” Carlos hefted a backpack over one shoulder.

  Miguel smiled at the young man and nodded. “Get out of her
e. Tell her I said hello and it was all my fault.”

  “You’ve got it.” Carlos strolled out the door and disappeared down the sidewalk into the early-evening shadows.

  “Tilly, you ready to roll?” Miguel asked as other staff members filed out the door.

  Tilly left the nurses’ station and closed the door. “Yeah.” She paused for a second, looking at Vicky, then directed a pointed glance at Miguel. “Good going, kid. See you tomorrow.”

  Vicky retrieved her purse from the locker and reveled in the tiny compliment that Tilly had given her. Although this was a new venture for her, she thought she might like it here. As she proceeded to the door, she realized that Miguel hadn’t moved and she waited for him. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “I’ve got some notes to finish first,” he said. “But I’ll walk you out.” He left the chart where it was and stood, but Vicky didn’t move. She stayed rooted where she was, looking at him seriously, assessingly, making him a little curious as to what was going on in her mind. There was something about her that made him uncomfortable, and he had no idea what it was. He’d been around plenty of lovely women and many nurses before, so simple attraction wasn’t the answer. Maybe it was the way her eyes seemed to penetrate right into him, trying to see what was going on inside. Maybe it was just bad lighting.

  “Finding time to play helps balance the workload, Doctor.”

  “It certainly does. For other people.” But it was one thing he hadn’t been able to do. All playfulness and joy had seeped into the ground with his brother’s blood the night that he had died. Part of Miguel had died that night, too. He hadn’t been able to prevent Emilio from dying. His brother had lost his life, so what right did he have to one? Since that night he’d dedicated himself to serving others, saving others and sacrificing himself in the process. The clinic had become his family now, its patients his children. When one of them died, he experienced a small death, as well. Each loss was one he took personally. Each loss was one patient he’d never get back and meant the kind of endless suffering of a family that he knew all too well.