The Doctor's Guardian & Tempted By His Target

by Marie Ferrarella

  Just went to show that you definitely couldn’t judge a book by its cover, she told herself. Not even after the first few pages were glimpsed.

  Her hand closed over the card he’d offered her and she tucked it into her pocket.

  “I won’t have to use it,” she assured him kindly. “Your grandmother strikes me as a woman who can more than meet any kind of curve that life has to throw at her and come out smiling.”

  “She used to be,” he acknowledged and a strain of sadness, which he couldn’t quite cover, echoed in his voice. “But that was before she got this old.”

  Nika had known her patient for a total of less than five minutes so far, but some things she could just instinctively sense from the very beginning.

  “I wouldn’t let your grandmother hear you say that if I were you,” Nika advised. “Otherwise, you’re going to have to be sleeping with one eye open for the rest of your life.”

  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to sleep lightly, he thought, thinking back to some of the undercover cases he’d worked. But he saw no reason to say anything about that to this woman. This wasn’t about him, it was about his grandmother. About keeping her well and thriving the way she always had been.

  “Keep the card anyway,” he told her. “Just in case. It’ll make both of us feel better.”

  “Us?” she questioned uncertainly.

  “My grandmother and me.”

  “Oh. Of course.” What was she thinking? Why in heaven’s name would the man be making a reference to the two of them as “us”? Of course he was referring to himself and his grandmother.

  That stretch in the elevator addled you more than you’re willing to admit, Nika, she upbraided herself. Get a grip.

  Nika rallied, pushing on, as the detective, satisfied that he’d made himself clear, started to leave. “And don’t forget to give me your bill,” she called after him.

  He didn’t bother turning around or answering her. He just kept walking.

  “Um, Nika, I don’t know if anyone’s explained this to you, but eventually, we’re supposed to be charging them for our services, not the other way around,” an amused female voice said behind her.

  Turning around, Nika saw that she’d guessed right. Her older sister—older only by eleven months—stood behind her. It was amazing, though, how much Alyx sounded like Sasha, her oldest cousin and the very first Dr. Pulaski to come to this hospital.

  “Alyx, what are you doing here?” Nika asked. And even as she formed the words, the answer came to her and her whole countenance lit up. “Did they send you here to help me?” She tried to recall if Alyx had mentioned anything about having the flu. She couldn’t remember.

  “No, I snuck up here as soon as I heard. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Alyx’s eyes washed over her quickly, taking inventory of every limb.

  “Heard? Heard what?”

  “Someone in the E.R. told me that there was a resident stuck in an elevator in between floors,” Alyx told her.

  Nika looked at her, a little surprised. “And you immediately thought of me?” she questioned, then pointed out the obvious before her sister could answer. “Alyx, I’m not the only resident that this hospital has.”

  Alyx raised her slender shoulders. “What can I tell you? Some of Mama’s paranoia rubbed off on me.” She looked down at a particularly dark streak of dirt on her sister’s lab coat. It was all the evidence that was needed. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Busted.” Nika laughed. She was already moving away. “But I don’t have time to talk about it right now. I have a patient to get back to.” One of many, she added silently. Nika nodded toward Ericka’s door. “I’ll tell you all about it tonight, I promise. Call me when you’re free. If you’re free,” she qualified, thinking of the very handsome policeman her sister had introduced her to when she’d arrived. The policeman who had arrested Alyx’s heart and placed it behind bars for all eternity. Alyx was going to be the first of them to get married, Nikka thought, with a little mistiness tugging at her soul.

  “And you’ll start by explaining what you’re offering that somber-looking hunk money for?” Alyx asked, still standing where she was.

  “A clean breast of everything,” Nika promised, crossing her heart with her forefinger.

  Not knowing the whole story immediately, she could see, was all but killing her older sister. Alyx had always been insatiable when it came to her curiosity. She always had to know everything about everything.

  “It’s not nearly as exciting as you think,” was the only crumb she had time to toss her sister before she hurried back into Ericka Baker’s room.

  “About time you came back,” Ericka said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at her doctor. “I thought maybe you decided to run off with my grandson.”

  Nika flashed a smile at the woman as she took her stethoscope out of her pocket. “Sorry to disappoint you, no running off.”

  “I’m not the one who’s disappointed,” Ericka informed her with conviction.

  “Oh? And just who would be the one who’s disappointed?” Nika asked, humoring the woman.

  Ericka didn’t answer her. Instead, the elderly woman merely watched her intently, her message silently conveyed.

  And then, sitting up straighter, Ericka announced, “Let’s get this show on the road already,” and began to unbutton the top of her nightgown—she’d brought her own, no doubt refusing to be caught dead in the one that the hospital issued.

  “Not so fast, Mrs. Baker,” Nika cautioned, placing her hand over her patient’s to stop the older woman from disrobing. “There’s a little matter of a history and physical to get out of the way first.”

  Ericka seemed somewhat annoyed and very impatient. “Nothing’s changed since I saw my doctor two days ago,” the woman told her.

  “That might be true,” Nika agreed, humoring her, “but I need to acquaint myself with you and I’ve never taken down your history before.”

  Very slowly, a smile of approval slipped over the older woman’s lips. “Believe in crossing your t’s and dotting your i’s, do you?”

  “Every time,” Nika told her.

  “Not a bad quality, I guess.” She didn’t quite succeed in sounding indifferent. Ericka eyed the physician’s left hand. “You married?”

  She thought of her mother, who had been crusading for each of her daughters to get married since Alyx turned twenty. She was desperate to be a grandmother—and have more grandchildren than Uncle Josef and Aunt Magda. “No, I’m not.”

  “Planning to be?” Mrs. Baker prodded, watching her carefully as she answered.

  “Someday, yes.” But that someday was a long way in the future, Nika added silently. She wanted to get a practice going, wanted to do things that really mattered first. If marriage was in the cards for her, it would happen. But there was enough time to worry about that later.

  Ericka cocked her head, still looking at her closely, her expression saying that she was confident she could detect a lie if she heard one. “So there’s no one important in your life right now?”

  “You, Mrs. Baker,” Nika told her warmly as she prepared to take the woman’s blood pressure. “You’re important in my life.”

  Ericka frowned. “Is that your hokey way of telling me that you’re dedicated?”

  “You might say that,” Nika allowed with a laugh. “It’s also a ‘hokey’ way of saying that I care about my patients. Every one of them. And since you’re one of my patients …”

  Ericka nodded her head, holding up her hand to keep her doctor from continuing. “I get it. You care about me. Well, if you do, it’s nice to know. Now,” the old woman instructed as she braced herself and raised her chin, “do your worst.”

  “What I plan to do, Mrs. Baker,” Nika told her gently, “is my very best.”

  Ericka’s head bobbed curtly. “I’ll let you know if you succeed.”

  Nika pressed her lips together. She’d come to learn that patients didn’t like it when you laughed
at what they said, unless they were intentionally trying to be funny. “I’m counting on it,” she told the woman.

  Chapter 4

  Nika frowned as she appraised the upper and lower numbers on the blood pressure gauge in her hand. They weren’t what she wanted them to be, especially since the woman in the bed was on blood pressure medication.

  “It’s a little high,” she told Ericka as she deflated the cuff. Pausing to make a quick notation of the reading on the woman’s chart, Nika swiftly unwrapped the cuff from the thin arm.

  Ericka waved away the note of concern. “Of course it’s high. My new doctor kept me waiting. I got aggravated.”

  Nika looked at her. She knew the woman knew better than that. “That wouldn’t have caused your blood pressure to elevate like that unless you were waiting for me in a yard full of pit bulls.” She tucked the cuff away. “I’d like to see that come down a little bit before we finally whisk you off for surgery.”

  Ericka made a noise that sounded very much like a snort. “You forfeited the ‘whisking’ part by making me take all these tests you’re talking about first.”

  Nika placed a placating hand on top of one of the woman’s blue-veined hands and said gently, “Mrs. Baker, the object here is to make you well, not to see how fast we can get you in and out of the hospital. We don’t take chances with our patients’ lives here.”

  Ericka looked at her for a long moment, as if assessing the genuineness of the statement. And then her sharper features melted into a softer expression as she smiled.

  “Call me G,” she urged.

  Nika cocked her head. She’d heard the detective refer to the woman that way. Was it her middle initial, or the first letter of some kind of nickname?

  “G?” Nika repeated, an unspoken question in her voice.

  The platinum-blond head nodded. “That’s what I told Coleman to call me when he first came to live with me. I hated the way Grandmother sounded. Still do. Makes me think of some old, bent-over woman, shuffling around in sensible shoes, her white hair pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck.” Finished with her description, Ericka shivered.

  “No worries,” Nika told her with a laugh. “That certainly doesn’t begin to describe you. I thought the computer made a mistake when I looked down at your chart earlier. If ever a woman didn’t look anywhere close to eighty-four, it’s you.”

  Ericka positively beamed. “You know, you just might have become my new best friend after all,” the older woman told her.

  “I’ll settle for being the doctor who makes you feel well enough to go home, Mrs.—G.” About to use the woman’s last name, Nika corrected herself at the last moment.

  “Fair enough,” Ericka declared. “Continue,” she urged, indicating that she was ready to endure the rest of the physical.

  Nika suppressed her smile and did as she was “bidden.”

  She had just finished the feisty woman’s exam and was carefully entering the last of her notes on the chart when the sound jolted her. Piercing the late morning air, the alarm sounded a great deal like an air raid siren used in one of those old movies depicting Europe during World War II.

  Except that this wasn’t an air raid. And rather than warning of a possible multitude of deaths, this had to do with only one possible demise. But even one was one too many.

  She didn’t want to have another on the books if she could help it.

  Nika instantly abandoned the chart, setting it down on a side counter.

  “What is that awful noise?” Ericka asked as she put her hands over her ears and tried to press out the sound.

  “I’ll put down you have good hearing when I get back,” Nika promised, trying to divert the woman’s curiosity from the reason that the alarm was going off. She didn’t want the woman frightened—and she definitely didn’t want her to start wondering if perhaps that alarm would ever go off for her.

  “What’s going on?” Ericka demanded, shouting in order to be heard.

  “It’s a code blue,” was all Nika said before she ran out into the hall—making sure she closed the door to Ericka’s room behind her.

  The sound that signaled the very real possibility of someone’s life ebbing away filled the hallway, making it momentarily impossible for her to ascertain from which direction the alarm was coming. The next moment, Nika had her answer. Alerted by the monitor at the nurses’ station, the two responding nurses and an orderly were all running toward one room.

  A quick scrutiny told Nika that so far, no doctor was coming to the patient’s aid. They were still incredibly shorthanded.

  “Crash cart,” she yelled out to the other three. “We’re going to need a crash cart.”

  The orderly, Gerald Mayfield, a powerful-looking man who was almost as wide as he was tall and had helped get her out of the elevator earlier, fell back to fetch the lifesaving device.

  She knew who the room belonged to a second before she entered. John Kelly. She’d paused to talk to the man this morning just before she’d gone down to the cafeteria. And subsequently gotten stuck in the elevator on her way back, she thought ruefully. Maybe if she’d taken the stairs, she would have gotten back sooner and somehow could have prevented this.

  God knew how, she thought now, looking at the painfully thin man whose heart had abruptly stopped beating.

  The monitor attached to him, tracking his vital signs, had nothing to show for its efforts but very thin, straight lines. They were accompanied by an eerie, flat note that mournfully announced the end of a life.

  “There’s no pulse, Doctor,” Katie O’Connor, one of the two nurses who’d made it to the patient’s room first, told her. The nurse’s long fingers were still pressed against the elderly man’s throat, as if that would somehow make his vital signs magically reappear once again.

  But they didn’t. The straight lines on the monitor continued going nowhere.

  It couldn’t end this quickly, Nika silently argued in her head.

  “He was just talking to me,” she said out loud, addressing her words to Katie. “Telling me how much he was looking forward to going back to the nursing home because he’d figured out a chess move that would confound his roommate. He was positively gleeful about it. He didn’t sound or behave like a man who was about to die,” she added, saying the words more to herself than to the other two women.

  Katie, who’d been a nurse more years than she’d willingly admit, looked at her with sympathy. “Can’t always tell by the way they look, Doctor.”

  She knew that. And yet …

  Behind her, Gerald was coming in, pushing the crash cart before him.

  “Charge ‘em,” Nika ordered, grabbing the defibrillator paddles. She held them up while Gerald quickly covered both surfaces with a gel. Rubbing them together, Nika called out, “Clear!” before applying both paddles to Kelly’s chest.

  His body convulsed in response, clearing the mattress in some places, but ultimately the former police sergeant didn’t awaken from what appeared to be his now permanent sleep.

  Nika didn’t want to let him go.

  “C’mon, Mr. Kelly, you’ve got a chess game to finish, remember? You wanted to show Don that he couldn’t just come in and be the center of attention, remember? Don’t wimp out on me now,” she pleaded. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked at the nurse who was now at the controls of the defibrillator. “Again!” The next moment, with the amps raised, Nika cried “Clear!” and tried to revive the man again.

  With the same results.

  Twice more she made the retired police sergeant’s body go through its macabre, lifeless dance and had the exact same results each time.

  Holding the paddles, she saw the two nurses and the orderly looking at her, waiting. Silently telling her to do what she knew she had to do.

  Call it.

  She released the sigh that was rattling around in her chest. “Time of death—eleven twenty-three,” Nika pronounced quietly and then returned the paddles to the cart.

  “You did ever
ything you could do, Doctor,” Katie told her sympathetically. “It was just his time to go,” the grandmother of five added softly.

  “Besides,” the other nurse, Jenna, chimed in, “where he’s going is a lot better than where he would have gone if you’d brought him back from the brink,” she assured Nika with the confidence of the very young who never doubted themselves. “Have you seen that nursing home he was living in?” Jenna, all of twentysomething, shivered to make her point. “If that’s the way I’m going to end up, shoot me now.”

  “Hey, a little respect for the dead,” Gerald chided sharply. Jenna frowned and fell into a brooding silence as she slowly stripped the deceased man of the various tubes and wires that had been connected to him. Gerald spared Nika a compassionate look. “Death’s all part of it, Dr. Pulaski,” he told her philosophically. “You shouldn’t take it so hard.”

  The orderly was right. After all, what did she expect, Nika asked herself. She was working in the Geriatrics Unit, for heaven’s sake. These were old people. A lot of them had overtaxed their immune systems and were susceptible to so many different things, things that could fell them without a moment’s notice.

  That was why they were running understaffed in this unit, because of the threat of someone unwittingly bringing in the flu. They couldn’t control the visitors who came in—although, sadly, a lot of these patients had no one to visit them—but they could at least control the staff’s interactions with the patients.

  Nika nodded in response to what the orderly said. She forced herself to focus on the steps she had to take next, not on what had just happened.

  “I guess it just seems like a lot of these old people have been dying lately,” she murmured. And death was not something she would ever get used to.

  “That’s because they have,” Katie told her. She went about tidying the man up so that he had a little dignity left, even in death. “They’re old people,” she emphasized, just as Nika had in her mind. “It goes with the territory and is to be expected. It’s a lot harder to handle when you lose a patient in the pediatrics ward,” she pointed out. “At least these people have had relatively full lives.”