Winning the Doc's Heart

by Jennifer Youngblood

  Winning the Doc’s Heart

  Jennifer Youngblood

  Craig Depew MD

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  Copyright © 2020 by Jennifer Youngblood and Craig Depew.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

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  About the Authors

  Other Books by Jennifer Youngblood

  1

  Kyle Thornton paced in the surgical waiting room. He glanced around at the other families there waiting for news of their loved ones. He’d been there since early in the morning. He felt a kinship with these haggard people, knowing that his actions mirrored theirs—pinched expressions, repeated glances at the clock on the wall. Strangers crowded together for one brief yet infinitely long stretch of time where the commingling of hope and despair misted the inhabitants of the room with an invisible spray. His eye caught on the magazines in the rack, frayed around the edges from being read over and over during the previous months.

  A surgeon, still in his blue scrubs and a green surgical gown, came into the room. “Johnson family?” he asked. A handful of people raised their hands. The surgeon took them to a corner where they huddled and talked in low voices. After a few minutes they all stood. He shook a few hands and left the room. Chatting in hushed and clearly relieved voices, the family walked out the door.

  Half an hour later, another surgeon came out accompanied by a nurse. “Clearfield? Who’s here with Mr. Clearfield?” An older woman clustered by three young adults walked over to him. They sat in the circle of chairs vacated by the earlier family. A moment later the woman’s gasp could be heard across the room. She began sobbing. Her three grown children embraced her. “He’ll be in surgical ICU, bed five, in about an hour,” the nurse said. She sounded like she was trying to reassure them.

  Finally, Dr. Stone came in. They had spoken before the operation, and he recognized Kyle. “Mr. Thornton. How are you?”

  Kyle clenched his hands, bracing himself for whatever news would come. “I’m okay. How did it go in there?”

  “Very well.”

  A heady relief swelled over Kyle, as he put a fist to his mouth. He drew in a quick gasp, realizing that he’d been holding his breath.

  “We gave your mother a heart donated by the family of an eighteen-year-old,” Dr. Stone continued. “It’s working great. We’ve got it all in place. My assistant, Dr. P. J. Bandy, is closing and then your mom will be on the way to CCU, the Cardiac Care Unit. We won’t keep her down here in the recovery room, but instead we’ll send her straight upstairs. She’ll be drugged tonight and tomorrow. Do you have any other family here?”

  “No. They all live out of town. They’re waiting for me to call with a report. So you say everything’s good?”

  “As good as it can be. The next twenty-four hours will be critical. We’ll keep her sleeping today while we see how well she maintains her blood pressure and make sure her kidneys and other organs keep working. Then we’ll lighten up on the drugs, maybe tomorrow, and let her wake up.”

  Kyle nodded his understanding, gratitude filling his breast. “Thanks, Doc.” He paused. “How’s the other family doing?”

  “The other family?”

  “The donor’s.”

  The surgeon smiled. “Kind of you to ask. You know, families of recipients almost always ask about the donor families. I admire that. I don’t know much about them. You can imagine they’re devastated at losing a daughter so young. They’re brave and generous to give your mom her heart. I understand one of the girl’s kidneys went to a mother with two elementary kids and her other kidney went to a seven-year-old. Someone else will get her corneas and liver. A lot of people will owe the family big time.”

  “I signed my driver’s license to be an organ donor.”

  “Good. Me too. I’m going back in there to take one more look at your mom, but my assistant, Dr. Bandy, is great and I’m confident everything is under control. We’re going to ask you to go make your phone calls and come see her tomorrow. She’s extremely critical right now and we’d like to have her all to ourselves until then. I’m sure you’d love to see her, but like we talked about before, it’s really in her best interest for you not to. Besides, she’s heavily sedated and won’t know if you’re there or not.”

  “Of course. Yeah, I knew this going into it. I’ll be back in the morning.”

  Kyle walked back to his car. Of his mother’s four children, he was the only one who still lived in Birmingham so it fell on him to take care of Mom when her heart failure became so bad that she had to go onto the transplant list. He brought her up from Clementine, their quaint tiny hometown in the south end of the state, to stay with him in his apartment. She tried to earn her keep by cleaning and doing laundry while he was at work, but her oxygen tubing would only stretch from the living room into the kitchen, and even with it, she had no stamina to do much of anything.

  “Don’t worry about it, Mama. I’ve been taking care of myself for years, and I can keep doing it. You just watch out for yourself,” he would tell her when she got too tired and out of breath to move. He was able to bring his laptop home and work from there some days, but most of the time he had to be at the office. As the head of IT at the biggest accounting firm in the city, Kyle had to be available instantly to keep the accountants functioning. Anytime anything went wrong, it immediately became his problem. Fortunately, he had a handful of assistants and he kept them busy.

  “I sure wish you’d find a good girl and settle down,” she wheezed. “I’m not getting any younger. Stephanie, Jill, and Tommy already have kids. You need some too.” She gave him a long look that conveyed all the concern she didn’t want to come right out and say. “It’s time to get back up on the horse.”

  “I know, I know. The right one just hasn’t shown up yet.” Therein was the problem. Kyle did have it all once—before it was cruelly snatched away.

  “I’ve been here for two weeks now and you haven’t even gone on a date.”

  “Are you kidding me?” He put his arms around his mom’s frail, drooping shoulders. “I’ve had the best date in the world every evening when I get home.” She shoved him away with all the force she could muster, which wasn’t much.

  University Hospital’s transplant team had given Kyle a phone number they would use to let him know if a new heart became available. At first, he’d been hopeful, but as the weeks wore on, he started to worry. Then one day he was in a planning meeting at work when the phone rang. The magical number was in his caller ID. “Excuse me, Steve,” he said to the company’s CEO. “I
need to take this one.”

  The chief operating officer looked right at Kyle. “We’re in the middle of an important discussion. Tell them to call back,” she said.

  “It’s all right, Joy.” The CEO looked at Kyle with an understanding expression. “Go answer your phone. We’ll see you in a few days.” As Kyle gathered his papers, his boss turned to Joy, the COO. “I’ll fill you in on it.” Kyle rushed from the room before Steve could tell Joy about the transplant.

  The next morning, Kyle had delivered his mom to the hospital and taken his place among the worried waiting outside the OR. Six hours later, the operation was over. Now he was on his way to the office, where he’d call his brother and sisters with the news, make sure the company was still functioning, and then go home.

  Dr. P. J. Bandy spread a thin cotton blanket on the hard tile floor. Why did hospitals have to buy such thin blankets? Didn’t they know patients got cold? With the other blanket folded for a pillow, the young surgeon lay down in a corner of CCU 9, a room surrounded by glass in the coronary care unit. It was three a.m., and P. J. needed to get a couple hours of sleep before morning rounds began at six. In spite of the need for rest, P. J. felt that Mrs. Thornton wasn’t stable enough to be left alone.

  This wasn’t the first time P. J. had spent the night on the floor next to a heart transplant patient, and it wouldn’t be the last. The nursing staff members were wonderful, but sometimes one’s conscience just needed to take care of patients personally. P. J. thought about the dozens of nights spent curled up in a corner while other young adults were out barhopping or at other social events. The thoughts faded as the rhythmic beeping of the patient’s cardiac monitor induced a much-needed sleep.

  It felt like P. J. had just dozed off when an alarm shrilled a wake-up. Dr. Bandy sat up and rubbed at red, bleary eyes before hitting the cancel alarm button on the smart watch. The door slid open and someone came in. “Oh, sorry,” a male voice said. P. J. looked up to see who it was. A tall, well-muscled man with a smattering of beard stubble smiled. “I’m just here to check on Mom. Are you her nurse?”

  It was a question she got all the time. She’d long ago gotten past taking it personally. She stood and extended her hand. “Dr. Bandy. I’m Dr. Stone’s assistant.”

  He took her hand, a slight color flushing his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I just presumed P. J. was—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she interjected, cutting him off with a smile. “Dr. Priscilla June Bandy.” A tingle ran through her. Odd sensation. Maybe it was from lack of sleep. Even so, she couldn’t help but notice that his grip had just the right amount of firmness. She turned and looked at her patient. “Mrs. Thornton’s doing just fine. At this point we’re keeping her pretty snookered. You can imagine that getting your ribcage cut open hurts pretty badly. We don’t want her in pain yet. We’ll turn down the medicine gradually as the day goes on. By tomorrow morning she’ll be ready to wake up.” She turned and looked back at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Kyle. Kyle Thornton,” he said. “I didn’t get to meet you yesterday. Thanks for all you’re doing for Mom. I don’t know how much longer—” His voice caught, and she saw a rim of sparkling moisture appear in his eyes. “I don’t know how much longer she’d have been here if you hadn’t been around for her.”

  She looked up at him. He stood a good foot taller than her. His square jaw and broad shoulders looked strong and confident, but his still-moist brown eyes showed tenderness and emotion. Her heart stirred. No, she had to ignore the feeling. He was here about his mother, and that was all.

  “May I?” he asked.

  “Of course.” She motioned for him to move around to the other side of the bed.

  He walked to his mother’s side and stroked her face. P. J. watched quietly, reverently as he whispered, “I love you, Mom.” Something about the scene caused her breath to catch. He looked up at P. J. and smiled. “She looks great,” he said. “She seems comfortable.” He held her hand tenderly.

  “She is. We’re doing all we can to keep her that way. What’s your schedule today?”

  His jaw worked. “I don’t suppose there’s much I can do here, is there?”

  “No. She might want to see you tomorrow though.”

  Kyle nodded. “I guess I’ll go on to work then.”

  “What do you do?” P. J. asked.

  “I’m a computer programmer. I work for an accounting firm downtown, Asher and Dunforth. Have you heard of them?” P. J. shook her head. “That’s okay.” He offered a self-deprecating grin. “Accounting’s not as glamorous as heart transplants.”

  She chuckled. “I don’t know about that. You still save people’s lives, in your own way.”

  A wry smile crossed his lips. “I guess we do. People make some dumb moves with their money, and we help them out of it.”

  “Sounds pretty important to me.” She realized she was twirling her toe on the floor. She stopped it and put her foot flat. She also realized she was admiring his wavy brown hair, his muscular arms, and how his shirt hugged just right on his well-formed torso. He wasn’t what she would have expected a computer geek to be.

  “I have to go start rounding on my patients. I imagine the nurses will chase you out of here any second.”

  “Then I’d better say goodbye.” He squeezed his mother’s hand.

  “Here, one more thing,” P. J. said. She took the stethoscope from around her neck and handed it to him. “Put these in your ears.” He complied. She took the bell and placed it gently on Mrs. Thornton’s chest. “Do you hear it?”

  A massive smile crossed his lips. He teared up again, but this time drops fell from his eyes. He took the earpieces down and handed them back to her, nodding. “She sounds great,” he whispered. “Thank you,” he said mopping his eyes.

  P. J. nodded back. “You’re welcome. It’s my pleasure.” Moments like this make all the long hours and hard work worth it.

  He turned and left. As he walked past the window, he looked at his mother, then at P. J., and smiled again.

  P. J. felt the corners of her heart go soft as she let out a wistful sigh. Yep, moments like this make everything worth it.

  2

  P. J. sat at the nurse’s station charting on her patients. Mrs. Thornton was her most critical patient, but she wasn’t the only one. There was Mr. Greeson who’d had a two-vessel bypass. He’d had to have it done open chest because the stents had failed and he wasn’t a candidate for more catheter procedures. Two rooms down from him was Mrs. Garner, whose patent foramen ovale had never been a problem until she got pregnant and her heart couldn’t pump enough blood for two. P. J. had patched the hole and saved two lives with one operation. Mrs. Garner was going home this morning.

  Florina Boudreaux, a nurse in her late forties and full of mischief, walked up behind her and flipped P. J.’s red curls to get her attention. “Say, doc, you’re not supposed to be flirting with patients’ families.”

  P. J. frowned as she looked at Florina. With her chocolate-honey skin and jet-black hair, she was a beautiful woman. “What’re you talking about? I know better than to do that.”

  “Oh, come on. We all saw you making goo-goo eyes at young Mr. Thornton. Or at least I did.”

  “Come off it, Florina.” Her brows bunched. “Show some respect for your doctors, especially for this one.” She lifted her chin, looking at Florina through narrowed eyes. “I have principles, and I certainly don’t let myself get attached to patients,” she harrumphed. P. J. was mortified. She’d not been making goo-goo eyes at Kyle. Sure, he was attractive, and she’d felt something stirring inside her when they interacted. But still, she was more professional than that!

  Florina grinned. “Oh, come off it.” She winked. “It’s a good thing he’s not the patient. His mother is.”

  “Close enough. He’s off limits for me.”

  “Good. Then can I have his number?”

  “Sorry. HIPPA, you know, patient confidentiality, all that stu
ff. I can’t give it to you.”

  Florina pouted. “Fine. I’ll just look over your shoulder and if I accidentally see something, it won’t be my fault.”

  “He’s coming back tomorrow to see his mom.”

  Florina’s face brightened. “Awesome!” She thrust out her lower lip. “Oh wait, I’m off tomorrow.”

  P. J. wagged a finger. “Hold on there, filly, you have Nathan already. You’re not supposed to be looking.”

  Florina held out her left hand, fingers extended. “He ain’t put a ring on it yet,” she retorted. “I’m still allowed to shop around until he buys. He hasn’t even made a down payment.”

  A grin pulled at her lips. “You’ve got a point. Don’t you have something you’re supposed to be doing right now?”

  “Harassing the docs is a big part of a nurse’s job. This is what I get paid for.”

  P. J. laughed. “I’d say you’re really good at it.”

  With a flourish of her hand, Florina strolled off to the medicine room. P. J. sat staring at her computer. Kyle Thornton’s face kept appearing in her mind. Each time she shook her head to get him out, he crept back in. It wasn’t his fault. Yes, it was. Why did he have to be so darned attractive? He was a computer nerd who worked for accountants. He couldn’t possibly be all that interesting. She hurried and finished charting on Mrs. Thornton so she could move on to someone else and forget about Kyle.

  A deep bass voice came up behind her. “How’s she doing, P. J.?” The man startled her, and she nearly fell out of her chair.