Love's Healing Touch

by Jane Myers Perrine

  He nodded. No use telling the woman who'd introduced him to church and helped him develop his faith that prayer had become only habit. It didn't work for him anymore.

  Francie folded her hands over the roundness of her stomach and struggled to find a comfortable position. "How's Cynthia?"

  "Don't know. Haven't seen her for a while." He signaled for a turn, carefully kept his gaze on the road and refused to meet her eyes. "Not a lot of traffic. We should get to the doctor's office in plenty of time."

  "Don't change the subject." She pushed herself around in the seat to look at him. "What happened with Cynthia? I thought you two were made for each other."

  "I thought so, too." He clenched his jaw, not wanting to say more, but he knew Francie wouldn't leave him alone until he explained. "When I told her I had to quit medical school to work, that we couldn't get married for two or three years, not until Mom and Tim are on their own, she said she wouldn't wait."

  "Oh, I'm sorry."

  "She wants to marry a doctor, not an orderly who lives with his mother and brother." Her departure had filled him with an emptiness it would take time to fill, so at least he wouldn't hurt every time he thought about her. "I don't blame her."

  "You should blame her. She's a shallow ninny."

  He didn't feel like it, but he had to laugh.

  "Why aren't you angry? You should be furious," she said.

  "I thought Christians didn't get angry."

  "Well, in some situations, like when your former fiancée is being a shallow ninny, I think it's okay. For a while."

  Well, then, yes, he'd been angry when he realized Cynthia hadn't wanted him. How could he have misjudged her feelings and character? How could she have fooled him so completely? Maybe he was the idiot for believing she loved him. It would be a long time before he opened himself to that kind of hurt again.

  "When did this happen?" she asked.

  "About a month ago. When I made the decision for Mom to live with me instead of going to a halfway house, I told Cynthia."

  "Well, I'm put out with her. I'd like to talk to that girl, set her straight about what's important in life."

  "There's nothing you can do." He shook his head. "But Brandon and little Ebenezer are blessed to have you watching over them."

  "I'm the one who's blessed. I have a wonderful husband whose family loves me and this baby coming. I have you and Tim and Aunt Tessie will be home soon. What more could I want?"

  * * *

  Ana Dolores Ramírez— Ana Dolores Ramírez, M.D.— tossed a newspaper off the only comfortable chair in the gray, dingy break room and fell into it. After taking a drink of her cold coffee, she leaned back, almost asleep.

  What an evening: a terrible accident on I-35, and a fire in a crowded restaurant, all that in addition to the normal everyday emergencies like broken bones, ODs and injuries from gang and domestic violence. Why had she ever thought she wanted to work in an emergency room?

  Well, yes, she knew. She loved the excitement, the challenge, the urgency to save people, the fight against death, bringing healing from tumult and despair.

  Another reason was the memory of the doctors who had worked so hard to save her leg and the staff in the E.R. who had saved her mother's life.

  "It's harder than it looks, isn't it?" Dr. Leslie Harmon, the Director of Emergency Services, entered the lounge.

  Ana yawned. "Why are you here so late?"

  "I was called in when the cases started to back up. I wanted to come in during a busy stretch on this shift to evaluate how the E.R. staff handles a heavy load."

  "How'd we do?"

  "Very well." Dr. Harmon rubbed her neck and rotated her shoulders. "I was particularly impressed with one of the CAs. The new guy— dark-haired, handsome kid— seemed really sharp. Who is he?"

  Before she could reply, Ana's pager went off. Checking the message, she pulled herself up with a groan. "Not a very long break, but I've got to go." She gulped the last of her coffee and tossed the paper cup in the overflowing trash can as she headed back to the emergency room.

  "What's coming in?" Ana pushed through the swinging doors, instantly alert. Paramedics pushed gurneys into the hallway while a clerk wrote the names of the incoming patients on the large white board at the central desk and nurses began to take vitals. Instant activity and a huge increase in the noise level.

  "Another traffic accident," the new orderly said.

  What was his name? She took a peek at his ID tag as she picked up a chart to make notes in. "Thanks, Fuller." As Dr. Harmon had said, he seemed pretty bright. More than just a strong body to lift and position patients. Earlier tonight, he'd recognized the signs of shock and taken quick action, more like a paramedic. He'd also helped with triage, stepping in when he saw how thin the staff was stretched. His assessments hadn't been perfect, but he'd done well enough with those minor cases. After she'd quickly doubled-checked his decisions, she'd been able to concentrate on major traumas.

  As the injured were quickly evaluated and moved to treatment rooms, to surgery or to wait in the hall, Ana noticed a boy about six years old standing by one of the gurneys. The woman on the gurney was pale, her eyes closed. Blood stained the bandages the EMTs had applied to her forehead and chest.

  When his mother's gurney was pulled into a cubicle, the boy grabbed the side of it and ran to keep up. "Mama," he sobbed.

  "Fuller," Ana called.

  * * *

  After he pushed a gurney against the wall, Mike hurried over to where Dr. Ramírez stood next a gurney with a little boy hanging on to it.

  "This kid came in with a family from an accident. Please take care of him."

  "What? Babysit?" He didn't remember that on the job description. His duties were all medical and nursing.

  "We need to keep him away from his mother until we can stabilize her. Find the paramedics. Ask them if he has family here or if there's someone coming to pick him."

  "Shouldn't social services— "

  "Yes, they should and they usually do take care of the children of our patients, but they're backed up and shorthanded. Can't be here for a couple of hours. I need to treat his mother now. I'd appreciate your handling this."

  While Mike watched and wondered what he should do next, she bent her knees to be on the child's level. "My name's Ana. What's your name?"

  The child studied her solemnly. "Stevie."

  "Well, Stevie, because your mommy was in an accident, we need to patch her up a little. I promise we'll take very good care of her." Gesturing toward Mike, she added, "This young man is going to keep you company while we do that. Okay?"

  Then she stood and turned back toward the trauma room.

  What was he going to do? Mike gulped as he watched her walk away. Saying "no" wasn't an option. "But, Dr. Ramírez, I don't know anything about children," he protested.

  "Do it," she said in the clear, firm voice Mike figured no one ignored. "Please."

  He turned and started toward the boy as Dr. Ramírez entered a cubicle.

  No one, not even lowly orderlies, ignored Dr. Ramírez's voice when it got that certain tone. For that reason, yes, he was going to look after the boy even though, no, he didn't know anything about children.

  The boy slumped, his spine curved in exhaustion, but still he kept a tight hold on the gurney that held his mother.

  The sight of the child broke Mike's heart. Even worse, he had no idea of what to do. Mike squatted so he was on the same level as the boy's sad eyes. "Hi, Stevie. Where's your family?"

  The child shook with sobs and clung more tightly to the gurney.

  That had gone really well. Trying again, Mike took the child's hand from the rail and held it although the boy fought to put it back. Was this the right thing to do?

  "The doctors need to take care of your mother, buddy," Mike explained calmly. "They can't get around very well with you here."

  The child looked at his hand in Mike's then glanced up. "Is she going to be okay?"

  "The
se are the best doctors in the world. They're going to do everything they can to make sure she's all right, but they need enough room to do that."

  The boy nodded and stopped his efforts to pull his hand from Mike's.

  Mike wiped the child's eyes and nose as he stuffed a handful of tissues in the kid's free hand. "Well, Stevie, do you want to thank the paramedics who helped you? They're really cool guys." When the boy didn't resist, Mike led him into the hall.

  "The paramedics are down there." When Mike pointed the boy nodded. "I'm going to talk to them now."

  Yawning, Stevie pulled away to wiggle onto a chair. He leaned back and closed his eyes as Mike walked toward the emergency entrance. The flashing red lights of ambulances pulling up outside lit up the area in flickering streaks of red.

  "Hey, guys," Mike greeted the paramedics, keeping his voice low. "Did you bring that kid in?" He gestured toward Stevie.

  "Yeah, an accident on MLK. The family in a van was hit when a drunk ran a light."

  "What are the kid's injuries?"

  "Didn't find anything serious. Probably should have that cut on his forehead checked later, but that's it."

  "Do you have a last name? Any identification? Is there family around?"

  "The family members who came in with him are all in the E.R., pretty badly injured. The cops are running the name down and getting in touch with relatives," the older paramedic said.

  "Thanks."

  As he walked back down the corridor, he saw Stevie had fallen asleep. Mike picked him up and carried him to the E.R.

  "Orderly," Dr. Yamaguchi, the on-call orthopedic surgeon, said as Mike entered the department. "Now."

  Mike nodded at Stevie. "Dr. Ramírez wants me to take care of this kid. His mother's in the E.R. and we can't find a family member."

  Dr. Yamaguchi glanced at the kid. "Put him in the emergency bed on the end and check on him when you can, but you have to transport patients."

  "Yes, sir."

  For the next few hours, Mike checked on Stevie whenever he wasn't pushing gurneys or following the instructions from the medical staff.

  Once when Mike entered the cubicle where Stevie had been sleeping, Dr. Ramírez was trying to examine him. Stevie had pulled away from her and cowered as far away from the doctor as possible.

  "Hey, buddy, it's okay. Remember those great doctors I told you about?" Mike asked. Stevie nodded. "This is one of them."

  "Will you stay?" the kid whispered.

  "As long as I can." Mike took Stevie's hand.

  "Guess you're here for a while," Dr. Ramírez said.

  "Guess so." The prospect would have alarmed Mike a few hours ago but not now. For the first time since he started work, he felt as if he belonged here, as if he had an important role to play and this was part of it.

  "Orderly," came a shout from another exam room. "Transport to X-ray."

  Then again, maybe not.

  Chapter Two"Good job, Fuller." Dr. Ramírez's voice echoed through the now-empty hall in front of the curtained cubicles of the E.R.

  Her voice wasn't exactly friendly, but she didn't sound as if she were ready to chew him out.

  "I appreciate the way you pitched in tonight, picking up wherever you were needed." She pulled off her latex gloves, tossed them in the hazardous-waste bin and said, "Thanks for taking care of the boy until his uncle showed up."

  Then she smiled at him. Not a big smile. Just a slight turning up of her lips. Still, it was a great look compared to her usual serious expression. Now her eyes sparkled a bit and a dimple appeared on her cheek. For an instant, she assumed the appearance of a human being, a real person, not a doctor.

  Probably noticing his confused look, she allowed her usual professional expression to slide across her features again. Then she said in a voice a bit softer than her usual this-is-what-you-have-to-do tone, "Fuller, let me buy you a cup of coffee. There's something I want to discuss with you. Purely professional. Nothing personal."

  He wondered what purely professional meant and why she had given him that smile. Probably didn't mean a thing to her but it was the first almost-full smile he'd ever seen from her. It was a dazzler.

  If he wanted to keep things professional, he shouldn't join Dr. Ramírez for coffee. Meeting Dr. Ramírez outside the E.R. seemed odd to him, but he deserved a little bit of the good stuff— and Dr. Ramírez was really good stuff.

  "Yes, ma'am, um, Doctor…Ramírez." He hadn't babbled like that since he'd asked Maribel Suárez out when he was a shrimp in the tenth grade. He cleared his throat and said, "I have to restock a room. Meet you in the cafeteria."

  When she left, he checked cabinets in Exam 1, made sure equipment had been replaced in the correct cabinets, and replaced gauze, tape and other supplies that were low. As he worked, he replayed the incident with Dr. Ramírez and felt like an idiot. Since Cynthia broke up with him, he'd been questioning everything in his life, but there was nothing unusual here. The idea she might put a move on him in the middle of a hospital cafeteria was crazy…but very appealing.

  He almost slapped himself for that last thought.

  Finished, he stripped off his gloves, washed his hands and splashed water on his face. Then he ran damp fingers through his hair as he attempted to make out his reflection in the paper towel holder.

  "Hot date, Fuller?" the tall, balding RN asked him as he came through the curtains. What was his name? Oh, yeah, Sam Mitchelson. "Couldn't help but hear the invitation from back there."

  "Just a cup of coffee. Like she said, 'Nothing personal.'" Mike tossed the towel away and moved toward the door.

  "That's more than any of us, including doctors, have been asked to share. You must possess something special to rate that."

  Mike grinned. "Only good looks, high intelligence and great charm."

  "Don't forget she's a doctor, Fuller," he said to Mike's back. "If you want to keep your job, never disagree with a doctor."

  Mike left the E.R. and headed toward the cafeteria, passing a row of wheelchairs outside X-ray and dodging a crowd getting off the elevator as he walked down the main corridor.

  Macho posturing aside, Mike reminded himself again she'd asked him for coffee, only coffee, not a date. As he'd told himself a million times, he had no interest in a relationship and no time, but his response showed he found Dr. Ramírez very attractive. His reaction to her had him thinking that Cynthia hadn't completely killed his interest in women.

  Just past the hallway to ICU, he turned to open the door to the cafeteria. The usual mix of medical personnel and family members of patients sat at the square tables. Straight ahead by the windows was Dr. Ramírez with another doctor.

  Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

  * * *

  From her table, Ana watched Fuller enter the cafeteria. Tall and handsome with broad shoulders, he looked great in scrubs. That was pure observation, not attraction, she told herself. His height and those broad shoulders made it easier for him to move and transport patients.

  When he saw her, he paused and looked a little uncertain. His confusion was probably because Dr. Craddock, the chief of staff, sat next to her, flirting with her. At least thirty years older than she and married, the fool was flirting.

  The closer the orderly got to the table, the more obvious Craddock's attention became. Thank goodness they would soon be interrupted.

  Fuller stopped when he saw Craddock still talking. He backed away, but she beckoned him forward with a wave.

  As he reached the table, Fuller said, "Hello, Dr. Craddock." At her gesture, he dropped into the chair next to Craddock. She pushed a cup of coffee closer to Fuller.

  "Hello." Dr. Craddock studied the orderly with one eyebrow raised. "And you are?"

  "Mike Fuller. I'm a CA in the E.R." He poured cream in his coffee and stirred it.

  "Oh? An orderly?" Craddock's voice and that still-raised brow left no doubt he felt the orderly shouldn't be sitting with two doctors.

  "I asked Mr. Fuller to join me. I need to d
iscuss something with him." She smiled at Craddock and gave his hand a sisterly pat. That should put him in his place.

  Craddock stood. "I see that I'm the one who's not needed here."

  "Dr. Craddock doesn't approve of your ignoring the hospital social order." Fuller watched the older man move away to join a table of doctors.

  "Doctors can be a rigid bunch." She picked up her coffee and took a sip. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." She rubbed her thumb along the side of the cup before she looked up at him. "Fuller, I've watched how you handle situations. You're intelligent and capable."

  "Thank you."

  He must wonder where this conversation was going. Had she thoughtlessly put him in an awkward situation? Probably so. That's what she got for pushing herself into other people's lives. They weren't always grateful.

  "You're an excellent clinical assistant."

  He nodded.

  "You must have a high-school diploma or a GED or you wouldn't be working here."

  He nodded again and gazed over her shoulder toward something behind her.

  "Do you have any college hours?"

  He scrutinized her face for a moment. "I'm not comfortable with this conversation, Dr. Ramírez. Is there a reason for your questions?" he said, politely but clearly setting boundaries.

  "Yes, there is, and, honestly, I want to encourage you."

  He took a gulp of coffee.

  "Do you have any college hours?" The question sounded rude. She really needed to work on her delivery.

  He paused before nodding, again not meeting her eyes.

  She was stymied. He clearly wasn't going to give her any more information than he had to, and he didn't have to give her any. "I know I have no right to ask you, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd answer a question or two." After a pause when the orderly didn't say a word, she added, "Please."

  When he raised an eyebrow but didn't say no, she asked, "How many college hours?"

  "I have a degree." He drank the rest of his coffee, placed the cup on the table and pushed the chair back.

  "Please don't go." She put her hand on his.

  The touch was not the friendly pat she'd intended. As she pulled her hand away, she glanced up to gauge his reaction. His eyes held a spark of interest before he looked down at his empty cup. The man had gorgeous brown eyes, a slight stubble on his cheeks and a square chin. A pleasant glow spread through her. Obviously, more was involved in her feelings for Fuller than mentor for student. Why hadn't she noticed that before she asked him to meet her for coffee?