Love On Call

by Radclyffe

  “Where are they?” Mari asked.

  “Two minutes out,” Abby said, coming up behind them. As she spoke, a faint siren wail grew louder, as if summoned. “Mari, take triage, Antonelli, take the trauma bay—”

  “Mari can’t triage,” Antonelli said. “I’ll do it.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because they’re…” Antonelli stared helplessly from Mari to Abby.

  Abby peered at Mari. “Oh God. All right—yes, Mari, back inside. Let us take care of this.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Of course you’re not. As soon as I know what the situation is, I’ll brief you. Until then, you’re backup, non-patient care. I mean it.” Abby blew out a breath, squinted into the dark in the direction of the sirens. “If there was time, I’d get Carrie in here to wait with you…”

  “Don’t send me away.” Mari drew in a long breath. “I want to see her. I won’t get in the way. I’ll wait, just please—”

  Abby squeezed her shoulder. “The minute she’s stable, I promise.”

  Mari turned to go inside, spun back to meet Abby’s gaze. Abby knew, they all knew, what might lie ahead. “I don’t want her to be alone if…”

  “We are not going to let that happen. And Glenn will never quit. You know that, if you love her.”

  “Yes.” Mari grasped onto Abby’s fierce strength, needing to believe.

  “Good. Now I need you inside. Make sure the staff is ready and we’ve got the support teams standing by. Can you do that?”

  Mari nodded, stony calm sweeping over her, blunting panic and doubt. The battle had begun. “Yes. Trauma admitting and room two?”

  “That sounds good. We don’t know the status of either one.”

  A nurse came out to join them. “EMT radioed—they’re coding one of them en route.”

  “That one goes to trauma admitting.” Abby pointed at Mari as the night filled with the wail of warring sirens and explosions of red flickering lights cutting through the trees just below them. “Go.”

  Mari hesitated, every instinct driving her to stay. Glenn was hurt, alone, and she didn’t know…if you love her. Only her training convinced her she’d be in the way for the first few critical moments. She trusted Abby and the others she’d come to think of as family, and turned on wooden legs to hurry back inside.

  Bruce met her halfway down the hall. “Is it true? Is it Glenn?”

  “I think so.”

  “Flann just called, she and Harper are on their way. Five minutes max.”

  “Thank God,” Mari murmured. “Are you ready? You have respiratory here, X-ray?”

  “Setting up now.”

  “What about the blood bank and the OR?”

  “Just about to call.”

  “I’ll take the OR, you notify the blood bank.”

  Bruce jogged away and Mari saw in her mind’s eye what she knew was happening outside. The emergency vans careening to a stop, doors already swinging open, paramedics jumping out and dragging the gurneys free—the injured strapped down, helpless, panicked, and in pain. All she wanted was to be by Glenn’s side, fighting whatever battle needed to be fought, denying death this one critical time. She shivered, forced the image away, willed herself to think. Do. Do what needed to be done. She punched in the extension to the OR, told them to get anesthesia and OR techs on standby.

  She hung up the phone, and the cacophony of voices filled the hallway, shouting over one another in a chaotic chorus she’d heard hundreds of times. As her training kicked in, each note in the madness rang out crystal clear. A male medic shouting out vital signs, Abby calling for blood, Antonelli yelling for a trach tray.

  Steeling herself, Mari whirled, focused on the first stretcher rocketing toward her, the patient with a cervical collar obscuring their lower face and blood covering the upper portion. Short sandy hair, and a medic astride the stretcher, rhythmically compressing the chest. Full arrest.

  Mari’s stomach twisted. Please, please, not her.

  As the team hurtled by, she saw the glint of a gold ring on the left hand. Not Glenn. Not Glenn.

  “Trauma one,” Abby shouted and was gone.

  Right behind them, Antonelli guided another stretcher pushed by a female EMT reading out blood pressure, pulse rate, pulse ox from the mountain of monitors piled beside the patient.

  The patient.

  Pale, so pale, a large gash running from the hairline at her right temple across her forehead, and blood, so much blood. Cervical collar, IV lines, EKG leads on exposed flesh. Mari pushed to the side of the stretcher, ran to keep up, gasped, “Glenn.”

  Glenn’s eyes were open, staring and unfocused, her pupils wide and dilated. Mari registered somewhere in the midst of the kaleidoscope of images the flicker of movement in the storm-gray pupils, reactive and equal, normal.

  “I’ve got her,” Antonelli said.

  And Mari had to step aside to make room and they were past her and Glenn was gone. Galvanized, she sped down the hall after them. The EMT pushed the stretcher into treatment room two and everyone converged around Glenn, blocking Mari’s view. Suddenly helpless, she stood in the opening of the cubicle and wondered at the value of all her training when the only thing that mattered at that moment was saving Glenn, and she could not help. Nothing mattered, nothing at all, except Glenn.

  Reality receded to the tableau beneath the blinding spotlight and she just stood there, waiting for the unknown. Just as she had been doing since the moment the doctors had informed her she had a potentially terminal illness, and life as she had known it had ended.

  Hands grasped her shoulders and Mari shuddered. Flann bent down, peered into her eyes. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded hollow, empty. Dead.

  “Stay here. Let me get a look at her and I’ll be right back. Okay?”

  Mari nodded.

  “Stay right there,” Flann said firmly. “She’ll want to see you. All right?”

  Mari dragged in a breath. She was done being dead inside. “Yes, yes. I’m here.”

  Flann strode into the treatment room and the crowd around Glenn’s bed gave way as if the sea were parting before an inexorable force. Mari followed close in her wake. No one was keeping her away from Glenn any longer. Flann leaned over the side of the stretcher, and Mari hovered by her right side.

  No breathing tube. Saline soaked gauze on her forehead, still actively bleeding. Mari scanned the monitors. Pulse ox 95. BP 80 systolic. IVs running wide open. Stable.

  “Glenn,” Flann said in a strong clear voice. “You with me? You know me?”

  Glenn blinked slowly, winced.

  “Glenn?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. You know where you are?”

  Glenn blinked again and her eyes rolled. She wet her lips. “What about my unit?”

  Flann glanced at Antonelli, raised an eyebrow.

  “She kept muttering there was an IED,” Antonelli said. “She thinks she’s in Iraq.”

  Flann gripped Glenn’s shoulder. “It’s Flann, Glenn. You’re at the Rivers. Car accident. We’re all okay.”

  Glenn swallowed and groaned softly. “No fire?”

  “No. You’re okay. Where does it hurt?”

  “Everywhere.” Glenn’s lids flickered closed. “Damn.”

  “Chest, belly? Glenn, hey, tell me where.”

  Mari focused on the X-rays that came up on the screen on the wall over the bed. “Fluid in the right costophrenic angle. Rib fracture.”

  Flann followed her gaze. “Not too bad, though. Damn, I like putting in chest tubes too.”

  “Belly films look all right,” Antonelli chimed in.

  “Looks like you’re taking a trip down to CT to make sure everything’s where it should be inside your head,” Flann said. “I’m headed to the OR but Harp will be here.”

  Glenn grimaced. “Mari. Tell Mari—”

  “I’m here.” Mari nudged Flann aside, gripped Glenn’s arm above the tangle of IV lines. “R
ight here.”

  “Don’t…worry.”

  Mari laughed weakly. “Never. Just let everyone look after you for a change. Rest now.”

  Flann pulled off her gloves. “Antonelli, you and Bruce take her—”

  “I’ll go down with Antonelli,” Mari said.

  Flann gave her a look, slowly nodded. “All right. If there’s any change while you’re downstairs, let me or Harp know right away. When you get back up here, one of us will take care of that laceration.”

  Glenn said softly, “Just don’t let Antonelli do it.”

  Antonelli laughed.

  “Don’t sweat it,” Flann said. “We’ll make sure you’re still handsome.”

  Mari backed just far enough away so the staff could get Glenn ready for transport.

  “What about the other one,” she asked Flann.

  “I’m about to explore his belly. Damn lucky Glenn pulled him out of his Hummer. The thing blew up right after the first responders got them clear. Looks like he ran through the intersection at about a hundred miles an hour, T-boned Glenn, and totaled her Jeep. If Glenn hadn’t been in something that big…” She shook her head. “Damn lucky for both of them.”

  Luck, fate, chance—was that really what life was all about? Maybe. But what did it matter? Glenn was alive and here, now. And so was she.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  “No focal swelling,” Harper muttered as cut after cut of the head CT scan appeared on the computer screen.

  Mari stared unblinking, searching each view for some hidden enemy, reluctant to be convinced. The calculating, cool part of her mind scanned and correlated, while the emotional part she usually kept contained and shut away while she worked kept screaming, This is Glenn—Glenn!—and she’s in danger. Mari took a shaky breath. “With the size of that laceration, she must have taken a serious hit. She’s going to have a hell of a headache.”

  “For sure.” Harper grinned. “She’ll never admit to it. She’ll just want to rub dirt on the sore spots and get back in the game.”

  “I know. God, she could have—”

  Harper draped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “She could have, but she didn’t. She’s going to be all right. Could-haves don’t matter in this game. Only what is.”

  “Only what is,” Mari whispered. Only now. This now, and as she was beginning to understand, the next one. Relief so potent she was briefly light-headed washed over her. “I’m so glad you’re here. You and Flann and Abby—everyone.”

  “Where else would we be, huh? Glenn’s family.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. “Yes, I know.”

  Harper made a few notes on Glenn’s chart and dropped it on the small desk facing the glass-enclosed room where the big scanner revolved around Glenn’s head. “We’ll run her chest and abdomen too, but there’s no sign of anything worse than a cracked rib or two. She’ll need to stay in at least overnight.”

  “Can’t you keep her longer? You know she’ll want to go right back to work.”

  “Abby can probably hold her off awhile, but you know what Glenn’s going to say. If she’d been at the front, she’d be back with her unit in the morning.”

  “This isn’t the damn front,” Mari said, her fear giving way to rage. Some careless, irresponsible driver had nearly killed the best person she knew, the woman who had already given so much for so many. The woman she loved.

  “It is to her,” Harper said gently.

  Mari closed her eyes, let the targetless fury drain away. “I know. You’re right.”

  “I’m going to call and get a room for her upstairs. As soon as we get that laceration closed, we’ll get her settled.”

  Mari waited until the scans were done and helped the ICU nurse transport Glenn back to the ER. Abby came in a few minutes later.

  “Flann called down. She’s going to be a few hours. Ruptured spleen, fractured liver, avulsed duodenum. The guy’s a mess. I’ll do this.”

  “Can I help?” Mari asked.

  Abby cocked her head, surveyed her. “Sure. That will free up one of the nurses, and we’re slammed out there.”

  Mari cut sutures and dabbed blood from the field as Abby anesthetized and closed the eight-inch laceration on Glenn’s forehead. Somehow, Glenn slept through most of the procedure, or maybe her body just kept her submerged so the healing could begin.

  “It looks great,” Mari said softly as Abby finished the last suture.

  Abby’s eyes above her paper mask smiled at her. “Thanks. Nice assist. She’ll have a little bit of a scar, but the orientation’s good so it won’t be too noticeable in six months or so.”

  “It won’t bother her.” Mari doubted Glenn even realized how unbelievably attractive she was. And a scar? Nothing could mar her incredible beauty.

  “Her room is ready,” Abby said, “so we can get her upstairs. Coming up?”

  “Yes.” Mari appreciated that everyone just assumed she was staying with Glenn for as long as it took to be sure she was out of danger. Did everyone know what she had barely begun to recognize? That Glenn was the most important thing, everything that mattered to her?

  “Carrie’s outside in the family waiting area if you want to give her an update while the staff get Glenn ready to transport. I’ll call you when they’re ready.”

  “Thanks. I’ll go find her right now.” Still Mari hesitated, unable to leave. Glenn’s vital signs were stable, everything checked out fine, but what if she wasn’t there and something happened? What if while she was gone Glenn—

  “She’s going to be all right. Sore as hell for a few weeks, and she’ll need some tending that she won’t want, but I’m sure you’ll figure out how to get around her.” Abby’s tone was gentle, knowing.

  Knowing Abby knew what Mari feared, and why, gave her comfort and strength. “I might need a little help in that department. She’s one of the quietest people I know, inside, but staying quiet? Not so much.”

  Abby laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll gang up on her.”

  Glenn softly muttered, “I can hear you, you know.”

  Mari stroked her cheek. Glenn’s eyes opened, momentarily clear and oh so reassuringly strong. “Good. Then you know you’re outnumbered.”

  Glenn’s smile flickered, and she sighed deeply. Asleep again, safe.

  “I’ll be right down the hall.” Mari finally backed away, watching Glenn’s chest rise and fall, slowly and evenly, checked the EKG and blood pressure tracings moving steadily across the monitors one more time. Glenn was going to be all right. They were both going to be all right.

  The instant Mari reached the waiting area, Carrie jumped up.

  “Sometimes I hate not being one of you clinical types,” Carrie exclaimed. “I had to stay out here and all of you were running in and out and oh God is she okay?”

  “She’s going to be. Banged up, but nothing time won’t fix.” Mari opened her arms as Carrie flew at her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “No. Yes. Just give me a year or two…” Mari buried her face in the curve of Carrie’s shoulder, and the tears she’d been holding back for hours flooded free.

  Carrie rocked her, crooned wordlessly, and held on.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Mari gasped when the worst of the burning in her chest had passed. “She’s fine, really.”

  “Harper told me.” Carrie led Mari to a sofa against one wall, drew her down, and enclosed her in the circle of her arms. “Doesn’t mean it’s not terrifying all the same.”

  “God, you’re so right.” Mari wiped her face with her palms and took a deep breath. “You heard what happened?”

  Carrie nodded. “You know Glenn pulled the other driver out of the car right before it caught on fire, right? She saved the idiot that ran into her and could have killed her.”

  “Of course she did. That’s Glenn.”

  “She’s a hero,” Carrie said.

  “She always has been.”

  Carrie leaned back, read her eyes. “And I’m guessing she’s yours
now.”

  Mine now. Mari smiled. “Oh yes, she is.”

  “I thoroughly approve.”

  Mari laughed, a bubbling sensation she barely recognized at first as joy coursing through her. “I feel so lucky to have found her.”

  “Oh hell, she’s the lucky one.” Grinning, Carrie gave her another hug. “After all, she’s got you.”

  “Yes. She does.” Mari gave in to the comfort of Carrie’s embrace another minute longer. “I should get back. They’re going to take her upstairs soon.”

  “All right. I’ll let everyone else know how she’s doing. You just concentrate on taking care of yourself.”

  “Me?”

  “Glenn will be rightly pissed if you don’t take care of yourself while she’s recuperating. That means eating right, sleeping right, and not worrying.”

  “I don’t know how I’m not going to worry.” She trembled, seeing the stretcher zooming past her, glimpsing Glenn’s still form, remembering the blood and the terror.

  “By reminding yourself she’s all right and thinking about all the amazing things the two of you will share.”

  “Yes,” Mari whispered. “I can do that. Now.”

  *

  Every single person in the hospital, in the entire community, maybe in the entire county came by Glenn’s room into the late hours of the night. Mari, curled up in the chair by the side of Glenn’s bed, was aware of them, sometimes just shadows, pausing in the doorway for a few seconds, then moving on. Just checking to be sure Glenn was taken care of, leaving a little positive energy behind. Around midnight Antonelli came in, reviewed Glenn’s vital signs on the computer printout by her bed, listened to her heart and lungs. When he was done he bent down by Mari’s side and whispered, “You should go home. Get some sleep. She’s had a little sedation and is going to be out all night.”

  “She might wake up.”

  “Not for four or five hours.”

  “You’re still here.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll watch her for both of us.”

  “Yeah, well…I’m so glad you were here tonight.”

  “Me too. Mostly I’m really glad I have such a good teacher.”