Karen stared at her, clearly puzzled. “A head injury? How? When?”
“She hit her head this morning on the silverware drawer.”
“This morning? But…I was there the whole time. I didn’t hear anything. She never said a word either.”
“Apparently you were in another room at the time.”
“And if the scan shows a problem, then what?”
Mark answered. “She’ll need surgery. We’ll make arrangements for a transfer to the nearest neurology unit.”
Karen slumped against the wall. “When I saw her acting strange, slurring her words and acting weaker than usual, I thought age was just catching up with her. But this…it’s absolutely bizarre. We’ve all knocked our heads on something or another.”
“I wish I could explain the reasons why, but all it takes are the right conditions. The blood thinner she’s on increased her risk.”
Karen rubbed her face in obvious frustration. “I suppose, but I don’t understand why she didn’t tell me she’d hurt herself.”
Dixie understood Karen’s dismay. The woman had clearly been trying to do everything possible to look after her mother.
“For one thing, she thought that it was a minor bump—one of those things that happen and we simply forget it and go on. Then, as she started feeling poorly, she was afraid to tell you.”
“But why?”
“She thought that if you knew, you’d push harder for her to move into another facility.”
Karen’s expression fell. “This is all my fault.”
“No, it isn’t,” Mark answered. “Her injury was an accident. The damage was done and had nothing to do with you knowing about it or not.”
“I could have brought her in sooner.”
“Without any symptoms, we would have sent her home and asked you to watch her,” Dixie pointed out. “Don’t blame yourself. In the meantime, they’ll take her to the hospital, run the scan, and then we’ll decide what to do next.”
Wearing her worry, Karen dashed off to alert her husband and meet him at the hospital.
Dixie watched the hallway empty. She’d done her job and placed Opal in capable hands. Jared Tremaine, as the ER physician, would arrange for Opal’s transfer should it be necessary, so Dixie’s responsibility had faded to consultant status for the family.
She faced Mark. “You didn’t mention that I’d see so many ER cases.”
“I would have warned you if I’d known myself. First a baby and now this. What’s next?” His frustration was obvious in the way he rubbed the back of his neck.
“It could be worse,” she assured him. “Shooting victims, stabbings and heart attacks come to mind. Look at it this way, our ER skills won’t become rusty.”
“No, they won’t.” He glanced around. “Where are your crutches?”
His question surprised her. “They’re around here somewhere. Why?”
“Use them.”
His dictatorial comment rankled. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a physician, too. I know my limits and when I decide that I need them, I’ll use them. Not a minute before.”
He opened his mouth to speak, then clamped his mouth shut.
Realizing she had the perfect lead-in for the heart-to-heart chat that Miranda had requested, she took advantage of the opportunity.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with—”
“Dr Albright?” Jane rounded the corner. “Could you work in an unscheduled patient? She’s quite insistent about being seen today.”
Eager to address her issues with Mark, she would have agreed to anything to keep from being interrupted. “Yeah, sure.”
Before she could finish her earlier sentence, Jane added, “I put her in room two.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Again, Jane paused. “If you don’t see her now, we’ll fall behind schedule worse than we have.”
Mark answered, his temper clearly aroused. “She said she’d be—”
Dixie sighed inwardly and she laid a calming hand on his arm. “I’m coming, Jane.”
Apparently satisfied by her answer, Jane disappeared, but not before she glowered at Mark.
“What is with everybody today?” he grumbled.
“I’d tell you, but it would take too long to explain. Duty calls, so I’ll catch you later.”
She headed toward room two where Miranda caught her. “Did you talk to him?” she asked in a whisper.
“Not yet. But I will. Before the day’s over,” Dixie tacked on.
“Don’t forget,” Miranda warned.
“I won’t.” After seeing his short temper about the phone and feeling its effects for herself, she understood why both women had been trying to blend into the woodwork when he was nearby. She, however, wouldn’t endure his surliness indefinitely.
Her patient was a twenty-seven-year-old woman, Larissa Grayson. She was a long-haired brunette of medium height, and wore a colorful sweater vest with her jeans. She was also quite attractive, although it was obvious from the tension on her face and in her shoulders that something weighed heavily on her mind.
Her chart didn’t show any record of medical problems and, other than an elevated systolic blood pressure reading, her vital signs were good. Nerves, Dixie decided.
She greeted her with a smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m pregnant,” Larissa said flatly.
“Are you sure?”
“According to three kits from the drug store, I am. I haven’t had a period either, since the first of December.”
“Do you mind if I run a lab test of my own and examine you?”
“That’s why I’m here. To be absolutely sure.”
Dixie gave her a few minutes of privacy to collect a urine sample and undress for a pelvic exam. Even without Miranda’s results of the pregnancy test, Dixie could tell from the cervical changes that Larissa was indeed pregnant.
Although Larissa answered Dixie’s questions, she wasn’t particularly forthcoming. Neither did she project the image of an excited mother-to-be.
“Does the father know?” Dixie asked, wondering if that was causing her patient to be upset.
“Yes.” Larissa hesitated. “He’s not very happy with me right now.”
“It takes two,” Dixie said practically, irritated that there were still men in the world who expected the woman to assume all responsibility for birth control.
“He knows. We just have a lot of other issues to work out.”
“Is the baby one of them? If you’re thinking about an abortion—”
“I’m not.” Larissa’s vehemence surprised Dixie. “No matter what happens, I want my child. Our child. I have a good job, so I can support myself and the baby, even if he won’t.”
Dixie patted her shoulder. “I’m glad to hear you’ve made your decision. As for you, continue your normal activities. Eat right, get plenty of rest, and take prenatal vitamins.”
“When do I need to see you again?”
“We’ll set up an appointment for you in a month, but I won’t be here. You’ll probably see Dr Cameron.”
Larissa’s face reflected her dismay. “I wanted you.”
Dixie smiled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m only filling in for a few weeks until Dr Cameron finds a couple of full-time physicians to bring on board.”
Her face blanched. “He’s looking for a couple of doctors? Isn’t…won’t Dr Bentley come back?”
Dixie wished she had the answer to that question. “I’m not sure,” she hedged. “It depends on a number of things. If he’s able to return, then perhaps you could see him, instead of Dr Cameron.”
“Oh, no.” Larissa shook her head. “No, I couldn’t.”
The faint blush on the woman’s face gave away more than she probably realized, which set Dixie to wondering…
“Do you know Dr Bentley?” she asked.
Larissa grew even more wary. “Yes.”
Dixie felt as if the puzzle piece she’d been wait
ing for had finally appeared. It took all her self-control to stop the questions from bubbling out of her.
“Professionally or personally?”
Once again, a pink hue flooded Larissa’s face and she avoided Dixie’s gaze. “I saw him a few times. Here, in the office.” She rose. “Can I go now?”
“I’m finished,” Dixie said, disappointed that she couldn’t follow the best lead she’d stumbled across, “provided you’ll agree to see someone other than Dr Bentley in a month. You want to give your baby the best prenatal care possible, don’t you?”
“Yes, but…” Larissa furrowed her brow and played with her lower lip. “I suppose it will be OK to see Dr Cameron by then.”
Her comment didn’t make sense, unless she’d seen both men in a personal capacity. While Dixie didn’t care if Larissa had dated Ned, the thought of Larissa and Mark being a couple didn’t sit as well. “Excuse me?”
Larissa waved aside her comment. “Dr Cameron will be fine.”
Dixie waited, hoping Larissa would explain further, but the other woman remained close-mouthed.
The room’s intercom blared to life. “Dr Albright?” Miranda asked. “ER is on the line.”
“Thanks. I’ll pick up in a second,” she called out. Lowering her voice to speak to Larissa, she said, “Then it’s settled. We’ll schedule you to see Dr Cameron in four weeks’ time.”
Larissa’s face turned white. “You’re Dr Albright?”
Once again, the woman’s response surprised Dixie because she’d introduced herself when she’d first met her. “Yes.”
“Dixie Albright?”
Dixie’s mental antennae started to quiver. “Yes.”
“Oh my gosh.”
Clearly Larissa knew Ned far better than she claimed. No one in Hope knew Dixie at all, except for Ned, and he was gone. Playing a hunch, she asked, “Did Ned mention me?”
The girl looked like a deer caught in headlights—startled and unsure in which direction to turn. Then, just as quickly, she squared her shoulders and the surprise left her eyes.
“He may have. I don’t remember. May I go now? I’m late for work.”
The blinking light on the telephone’s second line was a beacon, reminding Dixie of more important responsibilities than tracking down her cousin. Torn between dragging answers out of Larissa and dealing with Opal Landers and the ER, Dixie reluctantly let Larissa go.
“If you have any problems before your next appointment,” she said as she crossed the space to reach the phone, “come back. Otherwise we’ll see you in a month.”
By the time Dixie picked up the receiver, Larissa had disappeared.
“Jared Tremaine here,” the ER doctor said. “You were right. Opal Landers’s CT scan shows a subdural hematoma. I’ve made arrangements for a transfer. The helicopter should arrive in the next ten to fifteen minutes.”
“Thanks. How is she?”
“We’ve given meds to reduce the swelling in her brain and keep her seizures under control. She’s stable from my standpoint, but the family would like to talk to you.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Having decided to throw caution to the wind and manage without her crutches today, Dixie limped to Jane’s desk and discovered an empty reception area. Too impatient to find her or anyone else, she scribbled a terse note, jotted down her cellphone number and taped the scrap of paper to Jane’s computer.
When she returned, she intended to find out everything she could about Larissa Grayson.
“Where is everybody?” Mark groused as he strode down the hallway.
Miranda came out of another exam room. “I’m here. Jane’s in her office, and I have three people waiting to see you.”
“Where’s Dix—er, Dr Albright?”
“In her rooms, I’d guess.”
“She isn’t,” he snapped. “I checked.”
“Maybe she went to the ER. They called earlier. She must have left shortly after that.”
He didn’t know why her absence bothered him, but it did. “She should have told someone. I might have needed her. Did she take her crutches?”
“I saw them propped against her desk, so I assume not.”
“Fool woman,” he muttered.
Jane ambled out of her office, papers in hand. “Lab reports just came,” she said cheerfully.
“Do you know where Dr Albright is?” Mark asked as he took the pages she handed him.
“She went to ER. I taped her note to your door.”
He’d been too busy to set foot near his private office. He craned his neck to peer down the hallway and caught a glimpse of something white tacked to the doorjamb.
“Can’t we talk to people instead of leaving notes?” he grumbled. “It would be so much easier.”
“But not necessarily safer,” Miranda muttered.
He heard her remark, and was ready to respond in kind when he took a good look at his staff. Miranda wore a mulish expression, instead of her grandmotherly smile, and Jane looked like a scared rabbit, instead of the confident receptionist that she was.
Had two frustrating days turned him into such an ogre that even his staff were hard pressed to decide if they wanted to strangle him or run away? Or, in Dixie’s case, both?
He drew a deep breath and forced himself to lower his voice a notch. “How many patients are left?”
“Three.”
“Then let’s finish so we can go home and start fresh in the morning.”
He made short work of the last few cases, although, as he took out Robert Mullins’s stitches in his arm, he realized that Dixie was supposed to have hers removed today, too.
Had she gone to Jared, or next door to the minor emergency center? As much as he liked the physicians who staffed those areas, jealousy attacked him with a vengeance. It didn’t seem fair that she would ask one of them for help instead of asking him.
He couldn’t blame her, he supposed. For the past two days he’d been acting like the grumpy man she’d accused him of being.
“OK, Robert,” he said as he snipped the last stitch. “You’re good as new.”
“Thanks, Doc,” the forty-five-year-old mechanic said.
“Stay clear of sharp metal parts next time.”
“I will.”
Several minutes later, after he’d handled the afternoon’s most pressing details, he cornered Miranda. “I’m going to the hospital. Dr Albright may have run into a problem.”
If the nurse thought his actions odd, she didn’t comment. “Have a nice evening,” she said instead.
He wanted it to be far more than “nice,” but if simply spending the next few hours with Dixie was all that fate granted him, he’d take it and be satisfied. For now.
“I intend to.”
At five-thirty, Dixie ambled through Hope City Hospital’s corridors on her way downstairs from Peds. To the casual observer, she might appear as if she had all the time in the world, but nothing was further from the truth. Her knee ached, and because she hadn’t brought her crutches with her during her mad dash to the ER she had to manage as best she could without them.
Her orthopedist might have encouraged her to lose the crutches today, but if he’d known that she would be conducting business as usual, he would have revised his recommendation.
Right now, all she longed for was a chance to elevate her leg and rest for an hour. It would mean that dinner for Mark would be delayed, but she didn’t think he’d care. After the day they’d both had, he could use an hour to unwind, too.
What a day it had been! Fortunately, the medical helicopter had whisked Opal away to a neurosurgeon and should be arriving within the hour. Although the day had been filled with excitement and adrenalin-charged moments, the highlight had been meeting Larissa Grayson.
The woman knew Ned and knew him well. Dixie could hardly wait to talk to her again.
The emergency room loomed ahead and she ambled toward the double doors. Jared had agreed to remove her stitches if nothing major in
terfered. According to her watch, if he hurried, she could relax for a bit before she started dinner.
She pushed aside the thought of Mark volunteering for the task. Perhaps she should have asked him, but the sparks flying between them made her question if that would be an intelligent choice on her part. Jared was a far safer bet.
Inside the department, she found three men leaning against the counter in front of the nurses’ station, appearing quite at ease in this now quiet department. Of the three, she only had eyes for the auburn-haired one who was chuckling over something.
She hadn’t expected to see Mark until later tonight, but now that he was here she could hardly wait to tell him about Larissa.
Intent on her mission, she limped forward. “Hi, everyone,” she said, recognizing Jared and Galen Stafford, the head of the minor emergency center.
Jared grinned. “Back so soon?”
“It doesn’t take hours to make rounds when I only have one patient.” She smiled at the men before she turned toward Mark and showed her excitement. “You’ll never guess what I found out.”
“Likewise,” he answered, his smile vanishing as he transformed himself from the relaxed man she’d seen across the room to a serious, intense physician. “Is everything set up, Jared?”
“What’s going on?” she asked, glancing from one man to the other.
“Room one is ready,” Jared replied.
Mark took her arm. “Let’s go.”
“Wait a minute.” She resisted his attempt to pull her along. “Go where?”
Jared shrugged apologetically. “Sorry to disappoint you, Dixie, but Annie just called from the fire station. She’s cooking tonight and asked me to eat with the rest of her crew. Galen said he’d remove your stitches, but he has to leave, too. Mark said he didn’t mind filling in for us.”
She didn’t consider herself a suspicious sort, but the situation screamed of being more than coincidence. “I see.”
Mark raised one eyebrow. “Shall we?”
Wanting to refuse, she couldn’t because the other two men watched her reaction with undisguised interest. “Oh, I guess,” she said crossly. Little did Mark know that she didn’t intend to let him near her leg. He’d find out soon enough after they lost their audience.
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