Winning the Doc's Heart

by Jennifer Youngblood

  “Oh hi, Dr. Stone. She’s great. No issues at all. Vitals stayed stable overnight. There’s the usual dependent edema, so I’ve cut back on her fluids and upped her Lasix. Other than that, all’s quiet.”

  “Great.” He reached over and picked a white cotton thread out of her bright red curls. “Did you spend the night up here again? I’ve told you to quit doing that.”

  “I just can’t leave them without knowing they’re all right. Mrs. Thornton is no different.”

  “I knew she was all right yesterday afternoon and I went home.” He gave P. J. a censuring look. “There comes a point where you have to tell yourself you’ve done all you can do and then the patient has to do the rest. Now if you go home before you’ve done all you can, then you’re a bad doctor. On the other hand, if you give it your best shot and give the patient your all during the day, then each case is a success, no matter what the outcome is.” He looked around the nurse’s station. Florina had come back out of the med room. The IV team was there getting ready to see someone. “These are great nurses. You can leave people in their capable hands and go to sleep in your own bed, knowing your patients will be just fine, or at least as fine as they can be.”

  “It’s just hard to trust my babies to someone else.”

  “Hmm. Trust issues. They’ll kill you if you don’t learn to control them.” He patted her on the shoulder and walked into Mrs. Thornton’s room. She dutifully followed. Looking at the back of Dr. Stone’s bald head, she was glad to be his protégé. It was an honor to be learning from such a great surgeon, and she knew he would make sure that she was ready to work independently wherever she ended up when she left his tutelage.

  “How are you feeling, Mrs. Thornton?” he asked. They both knew she couldn’t hear him, but he’d taught her to always treat patients with dignity whether they responded or not, whether they deserved it or not, and whether they could pay him back or not. “I read through the nurses’ notes and Dr. Bandy’s notes. It seems that you’ve had a good night. We’ll keep you resting today and start cutting back on the drugs slowly so you can wake up. Does that sound okay with you?” He pulled out his stethoscope and listened to her heart, then her lungs. He pressed her belly and then tapped on it, searching for fluid accumulation. Glancing at the suction pumps next to her bed, he examined the liquid draining through the clear tubes that poked out of her chest. “Not much drainage. Good.” He spoke to the nurse who’d followed them but kept looking at Mrs. Thornton. “If there’s any fever, tachycardia, anything other than healthy vitals, page Dr. Bandy and me immediately. I’s and O’s in balance?”

  “Yes, sir.” The nurse handed him a graph showing the inputs and outputs of liquids for the previous eighteen hours.

  He looked over the graph and handed the chart back to her. “Very nice.” He patted Mrs. Thornton’s hand. “Well, young lady. Keep up the good work.” He turned toward the door. “Shall we, Dr. Bandy?” Off they went to visit their other patients.

  3

  Kyle let out a huge sigh. What a relief. He sat back in his car for a moment, and before he drove out of the hospital parking lot, he called his oldest sister. “Stephanie? Hi. It’s Kyle. Mom’s doing great.” He filled her in on his visit with Dr. Bandy and what little he knew about the donor and her family. Next, he called his second sister and repeated the news, then his brother.

  His mind wandered as he drove. What about that doctor? She was around his age, and obviously successful, and quite attractive. Her emerald green eyes, sleepy and bloodshot as they were, seemed to grab something inside him. Not that he was looking to be grabbed, but she was pretty cute. That curly red hair looked like it belonged on a little kid. It must be hard to keep it tucked into a surgical cap. She obviously worked out, probably at the university athletic center. Surgical scrubs weren’t meant to be flattering on anyone, but then again, you can only hide so much of a person’s figure even in baggy clothing.

  A horn blared as a car cut him off from the right. He braked to avoid a collision and let the offender go on his way. He glanced at the license plate: Utah. A native Alabaman would never drive like that. To be on the safe side, he tucked the thought of Dr. Bandy into the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand, which was to get to the office in one piece.

  He strode past Melanie, his secretary, who was sorting through his mail. “Mr. Thornton, I’m surprised to see you. I thought you’d be up at the hospital all day. How’s your mother?”

  “She’s doing great. Her doctor told me not to hang around because she’ll be in a medically induced coma until at least tomorrow. On that note though, push me everything that comes in today because I’ll probably be up there with her for the next day or two.”

  “Of course. I’m glad to hear she’s doing so well.”

  Kyle walked into his office and closed the door, but before he sat down at his desk he turned around and walked back. Cracking the door open, he called out, “Melanie, will you come in here for a minute?”

  “Sure.” She followed him in, pen and paper in hand.

  He pointed to a chair. “Have a seat.” He paused. “You’re a girl, right? I mean, a woman.” In her late-thirties, Melanie was a spunky blonde with a husband she adored and three rambunctious boys.

  She gave him a puzzled smile and looked down at her flowery skirt. “I think so. I mean, I dress like one.”

  “Well, yeah, of course. You know, the world in a lot of areas is still dominated by men. Whether that’s fair or not, things still aren’t equal. We have a lot of work to do to fix that.”

  “Okay. Do you want me to write this down?” There was a slight hint of amusement on her face.

  “No. I’m looking for advice.” He sat back in his chair, propping his elbows on the arm rests and steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “So, let’s say you were a well-educated, trained, highly specialized surgeon, and a computer geek asked you on a date. Would you go out with him?”

  A grin played over her features. “A woman who’s a surgeon is still a woman. So, if he was likable and available, sure I would.” Her eyes sparkled. “Have you met somebody?”

  Kyle caught the flicker of hope in Melanie’s eyes. He could feel her interest tempered with compassion. There was a time when he didn’t think he’d ever want to date again. He’d been so devastated, so shattered by everything that happened. His mother, siblings, friends, and co-workers had routinely tried to set him up with various people. He’d been resistant at first but then went along with it, feeling the need to move on with his life. A few of the dates had been okay—the women were nice, attractive—but there was just no spark, no real connection. Kyle hadn’t so much as looked at another woman the same way as he had Annie … until now.

  He sat up. “Sort of. I mean, we only talked for a few minutes. This girl, this doctor …” he chewed on his lower lip “… well, I want to get to know her better.” He shifted in his chair. He was so out of practice in the dating scene. “I just don’t know if it’s appropriate or not. But is she going to only be interested in guys with MD and PhD and other letters after their names?”

  “Why wouldn’t she go out with you?” She scrunched her nose. “And what does this have to do with the world treating her fairly or not?”

  He gathered his thoughts. “She must’ve made her way through what had to be some really tough competition to get where she is. I mean, out of all the kids who go to college, how many get into medical school? Then out of all the doctors who graduate, how many become heart surgeons? And then out of all the heart surgeons, how many are good enough to do transplants?”

  Melanie leaned forward in her chair. “It doesn’t matter how many. All you’re interested in is one. If you’re feeling something for this one, then go for it.” She held up a finger. “Just one word of caution, though. Don’t mix up gratitude for what she’s done for your mother with feelings of romance. They’re two different things but in the excitement of the moment it might be hard to tell them apart.”

  He cocked
his head thoughtfully. “That’s something I hadn’t thought of, but you’re absolutely right. I don’t think it’s just gratitude though.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  He bit back a smile. “Because Dr. Stone, the chief surgeon, doesn’t interest me at all. He’s just an old bald guy with hairy arms. Definitely not my type. Soft-hearted redheads though, yeah, they kind of have a way of catching my attention.”

  She chuckled. “Well, next time you see her, find a way to figure out if she’s involved with anyone. Then when you ask her out, don’t get all twitterpated because,” she batted her eyelashes and fanned herself with her hand, “Oh my goodness, I’m asking a doctor for a date. I mean, Elizabeth was already the queen of England the first time she went out with Edward. But they still went out. You can do it too.”

  “I think she was called Princess until she got married.”

  “Still, she was the richest and most famous woman in the world. Maybe you should call her for advice.” Melanie pretended to search the pocket of her skirt. “Oh wait, I’ve lost her phone number. Oh well. You’re no slacker yourself. This doctor should be happy to go out with someone like you.”

  “Someone like me? What do you mean by that?”

  “I passed the exit sign for Clementine on the highway last time I went to the beach. Tried as hard as I could to get a look at your little hometown when we drove past, but I blinked and missed it. It’s quite an accomplishment for a boy from someplace like that to come here and head up IT at the biggest and most prestigious accounting firm between Atlanta and New Orleans.”

  Kyle shrugged offhandedly. “That’s my mom’s doing. She always made sure I did my homework.”

  “Nah. Don’t sell yourself short. She didn’t do it for you. You did all the heavy lifting yourself, and she was your cheerleader. Or maybe the person cracking the bull whip over you. Seriously, to hold a position like yours at, what, twenty-nine years old, am I right? You’re going places, kiddo. Now put on your big boy pants and go chase that doctor.”

  Marge Dewlight was the head charge nurse in the operating room. She was months away from retiring from the job she’d loved for well over forty years. It was half past eight in the morning, and twenty-two of the twenty-four rooms were full. Hospital protocol required her to keep the other two ORs vacant for emergencies. While things were running themselves for a few minutes, she stepped into the locker room to get a break from the bustle.

  She came out of her toilet stall and found P. J. at the sink flossing her teeth. “Dr. Bandy, don’t tell me you spent the night up here with a patient again.”

  P. J. nodded. “It’s getting to be a real bad habit,” she confessed.

  “That’s two nights in a row. When are you going to learn to trust your nurses? I’m more than twice your age, and I know some of those CCU people have been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, especially the night crew. It’s okay for you to go home and sleep in your own bed. You have one, don’t you?”

  P. J. gave her a smirk in the mirror. “Yes,” she said with a high schooler’s sarcastic voice. “The transplant patient from yesterday is just a little more delicate, and I wanted to be nearby just in case.”

  Marge put a hand on her back. “That’s why God created cell phones, dear. You’re a hot young woman. There’s a lot more to life than this place.”

  P. J. spread her makeup bag on the counter next to the sink and started applying her foundation. “This will do for now,” she said.

  Marge gave a loud “harrumph,” and went back to the OR. P. J. smoothed her skin, applied mascara and lipstick, and transformed herself from a haggard doctor into something more presentable. Thirty minutes later she was upstairs in CCU reviewing Mrs. Thornton’s chart.

  Dr. Stone walked into the nurses’ station. “Morning, P. J. How is everyone?”

  “Doing great. Mrs. Adair’s valvuloplasty looks like it’s working beautifully. Mrs. Thornton did just fine yesterday. I’ve already cut her morphine drip in half. We should be able to start bringing her around in a few minutes.”

  “Have you called the son?” Dr. Stone asked.

  An unsummoned thrill shot through P. J. at the mention of Kyle Thornton. She gulped. “No, actually I haven’t. Let me look up his number in the computer.” She pulled up the info menu in Mrs. Thornton’s chart and dialed the number for the next of kin. Her heartbeat sped up as she waited. “Hello, Mr. Thornton?” Her voice sounded out of kilter and a little squeaky in her own ears. She hoped Dr. Stone hadn’t noticed.

  “Yes. Is this the hospital?”

  She swallowed, trying to keep her voice professional. “Dr. Bandy here. We’re about to start bringing your mother out of her coma.”

  “Hi, doc,” he said warmly, and she heard the smile in his voice. “I didn’t expect you to call personally.”

  P. J. blushed. What was it with this guy? Other men didn’t make her have these sensations. A smile threaded over her lips. “Good morning. Nice to talk to you again. Your mother’s right on schedule, actually, a little ahead of where a lot of people are this soon after a heart transplant. I’ve already cut back on her morphine drip. We’ll be weaning her off her other medicines over the next hour.”

  “I’m pulling into the parking lot now. Be right up.”

  She gulped. He was here? “Great. See you then.”

  When she hung up and turned around, Dr. Stone was grinning from ear to ear. “What?” she asked.

  “These nurses talk, and they tell me something’s going on with you and him.”

  A heatwave blasted up her neck. She had to fight the urge to pull at her collar. “Nothing’s going on. They’re just a bunch of nosy old hens.”

  “Mmm hmm.” Two nurses behind Dr. Stone nodded, a knowing look passing between them.

  P. J. groaned. “Not you too! This is strictly professional.”

  “Mmm hmm,” Dr. Stone repeated with a wink.

  A few minutes later, Kyle called over the intercom outside the CCU entrance. The unit secretary buzzed him in. He walked toward room nine but stopped when he noticed P. J. sitting at the nurse’s station. Without breaking his stride, he changed direction and came over to her.

  P. J. looked up and smiled, her heart skittering in her chest. Instead of a shirt and tie like he’d had on the day before, he wore a pale orange polo shirt tucked into jeans. The outline of his pecs was clearly visible beneath it, and the short sleeves had to try extra hard to cover his larger than normal biceps. He stopped in front of the desk where P. J. was typing. With his hands clasped in front of him, he looked a little nervous. It was kind of cute. His physique would have caught the attention of all the females present. Computer nerd, no way.

  P. J. got up from her chair. “Morning, Mr. Thornton.”

  He flashed a smile, causing the edges of his eyes to crinkle. “Please, call me Kyle.”

  “All right. This will take a while. Did you bring a book to read?”

  He held up his e-reader. “The latest issue of Computer Accounting. It’s really good stuff.”

  Time seemed to pause as the two shared a look. P. J. found herself grinning like a goof. “I’m glad to see you came prepared.” Behind her, Dr. Stone cleared his throat. P. J. spun around, her hand splaying over her neck. “Oh, Mr. Thornton, Kyle, I’d like you to meet Dr. Stone, the chief surgeon. He’s also on your mother’s case.”

  Dr. Stone held out a hand for a brief shake, which Kyle returned. “Good to see you again, sir, and thanks for everything. It seems to be turning out just great.”

  “Mmm hmm,” Dr. Stone replied. P. J. elbowed him in the ribs, hoping Kyle wouldn’t notice.

  As they walked to room nine, P. J. turned to Gail, the R. N. taking care of Mrs. Thornton. “I’ve written the orders already. Discontinue the continuous morphine and change it to as needed. We’ll extubate her within the hour. Have respiratory therapy ready with suction. As soon as she’s awake, her diet will be sips and chips.”

  Gail held up a large cup of ice chips
. “Got it already, Doc. Let’s do this.”

  P. J. pulled a chair around, so it faced their patient. “Here you go, Kyle. Have a seat. I’ll be in and out for the next little while. Have the nurses call me if you need anything.” Gail busied herself taking down most of the IV fluid bags. As she left, P. J. paused and looked back. Kyle was leaning forward in the chair, stroking his mother’s hand. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of his tenderness. Geez. Was the guy real or some figment her overworked and sleep-deprived brain had conjured up?

  She shook her head, pulling herself out of her reverie. She had to remain one hundred percent focused on her patient, regardless of how hunky and charming the said patient’s son was.

  The day proceeded as expected. As the drugs wore off, Mrs. Thornton gradually came around. The physical therapist paid a visit. By suppertime she was sitting up. Mrs. Thornton’s supper consisted of green gelatin and low-salt chicken broth. When P. J. made her evening rounds, mother and son were both snoozing, Kyle in his chair and his mother in her bed. P. J. paused in her tracks, her eyes tracing the chiseled lines of Kyle’s handsome face. In sleep, he had a boyish, innocent quality. P. J. especially liked his strong, lean jaw—how his hair was mussed a bit on top. She had the unreasonable urge to run her fingers through those thick, chestnut locks. She clenched her hands and brought them to her sides as she went to Mrs. Thornton instead. She gently nudged her shoulder.

  Her eyes briskly opened. “Well hello, dear. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “You too. How do you feel?”

  The older woman winced. “My chest feels like someone cut it open with a chainsaw. Other than that, just fine, thanks.”

  Compassion simmered inside of P. J. thinking about everything Mrs. Thornton had been through recently. “Actually, we used a jigsaw. They do a great job. Are the nurses bringing you enough pain medicine?”

  “Yes. It’s tolerable.” She coughed, her voice raspy. “It doesn’t do much for the sore throat though.”