Safe In The Surgeon's Arms

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“I thought there was something serious between you two. You didn’t just date a few times, did you?”

Keeping secrets was apparently not her forté, and she shouldn’t look forward to a career in the international espionage field. Damn. Maybe Liz could keep a secret.

“It was a long time ago.” But was it really?

“Not that it’s any business of mine, but it doesn’t seem like business is over between you two. If the air needs to be cleared for you to work together, then I’d suggest having a chat with him.” She sighed. “I’d suggest it to anyone who was having a difficult working relationship. If needed, there’s always mediation.”

“Mediation? No. We were done three years ago. And it was a bitter breakup.”

“I’m sorry, Emily. It’s none of my business, like I said, but if you ever need to talk, I can listen and it won’t go anywhere.” She had the calm eyes and demeanor of a true leader.

“Thanks, but I just need to pull myself together and be an adult about it.” She’d put her big-girl panties on a long time ago. They just needed a little straightening now and then.

“Okay. The offer stands.” She handed the papers back to Emily. “And I think Chase should see those right away.” She nodded over Emily’s shoulder.

“I should see what?” Face serious, he moved closer. The cologne he wore hadn’t changed and it caught her by surprise. She’d loved that on him. Then.

“Labs here indicate some infection and something going on with her hematology.” She shrugged, looked away and placed the printout on the counter in front of him so there was no accidental touching of skin to skin.

Without touching the papers, he leaned over and read them, nodding and focusing on the numbers in front of him, then turned his attention to her. “So what do you think we should do?”

“Me? You’re the doctor. You should examine her and then decide, but it appears she’s losing blood somewhere.” She stiffened at being put on the spot. “Although she didn’t complain of any abdominal pain, and we were more concerned about her head trauma, it’s possible she took a few hits to the abdomen and either her spleen or liver is leaking.”

Just then the alarms in Mrs. Billings’s room began to chime in earnest. Emily looked at the monitor beside her at the station displaying the vital signs in bold green numbers.

“What?”

“BP taking a nosedive and pulse shot up.” She looked with concern at Chase and met his gaze full on. “She’s in trouble.”

They all raced into the room just in time to see the patient’s eyes roll back in her head, and she lost consciousness. “Dammit,” Chase cursed, and he rarely did that in front of a patient, no matter what the circumstance. “Call a code.”

Emily hit the specially designed button on the wall behind the patient’s head while Liz ran for the crash cart, the large tool chest on wheels housing lifesaving equipment.

People began arriving in droves to assist with the code. Thankfully, in a code situation no one was ever alone. Chase was in charge and ran the operation, but Emily was next in command and delegated tasks to other staff members if she wasn’t able to perform them herself.

“Let’s give her some fluids, wide open,” Chase instructed, “then epinephrine IV push.” He kept his gaze on the monitor, watching everything the heart did.

Emily didn’t have to call for it as Liz had it prepared in a few seconds and handed it to her. Pulling the cap off, she connected the needleless system and pushed the medicine in as quickly as possible. The patient’s heart rate suddenly paused, then dropped dramatically.

Chase whipped off the stethoscope from around his neck and listened to the patient’s abdomen, and then used his hands to palpate it.

“How’s her belly?”

“Rigid. Think you’re right, Nurse Hoover. She’s got a cracked liver and is bleeding into her abdomen. Call OR and tell them we’re on the way up now. No time to wait. I’ll have to operate, but call the surgical team for backup.”

“Now I wish I’d hit him,” she muttered beneath her breath, and jerked the receiver off the wall.

“What?”

“Nothing. Got it.” She dialed and informed the OR of the situation of an emergency patient coming their way.

Staff scrambled to get her to the OR. Emily trotted along next to the stretcher as the crew moved down the hall to the OR, which was on the same floor but through a maze of hallways and double doors.

“There’s something wrong in your abdomen, Jenny, so Dr. Montgomery is going to operate on you.” She stroked the woman’s hair. Sweat had popped out on her face and neck. Emily knew it was from shock and the compensating mechanisms her body was engaging in. The heart raced to make up for in rate what it lacked in output, due to low blood volume.

And then Mrs. Billings was gone. Emily handed her over to the pre-op nurses. Watching through the slight opening in the doors, she watched Chase approach the stainless-steel sinks, pull on a hair cover, mask, and begin to scrub. He wore the green, sterile scrubs required in the OR and was ready to roll.

Back in the day she’d used to love watching him scrub, knowing he was entering a world all his own in surgery, knowing he was going to drag a patient back from the edge of death.

Back then he’d been her superhero. Saving everyone and everything.

Only he’d failed her when she’d needed him the most. Nothing in life had ever disappointed her more. Time had helped her realize he was just a man and no cape could turn him into what she’d needed. But right now that man was going to bust his butt trying to save this woman. If nothing else, she had to respect him for that.

The remainder of the day passed with much less fuss than the first part of it. A few coughs, colds and possible flu filtered in, but her mind was never far from thoughts of Chase and the work he was doing on their patient.

At the end of shift Emily gave in to mental and physical exhaustion, allowing it to wash over her as she exited the building out into the staff parking lot. Fortunately, it wasn’t a long walk.

This was the kind of situation that could lead to an assault on a woman who was not prepared the way Emily was now. Women left their jobs after long hours, eager to get home, their senses and muscles weakened by their work, not paying attention to the immediate surroundings. And alone. That was a sure setup for an attack.

Now Emily was different and more prepared than she’d ever been. Though exhausted, her senses, her self-protective instincts she’d honed over the years surged within her, brewing just under the surface, reaching out into the night, as if sentient. Sounds came to her from the twilight. The abrasive whirring of a cicada attracted her attention to the tops of the trees. Crickets trilled from the grass along the edge of the parking lot. A flock of pigeons overhead swooped past in search of a roosting place for the night. A lone seagull hung on an updraft long enough to decide whether she was edible or not.