Family Practice (18 page)

“Then I’ll inform her we’re ready to go as soon as the children get here.” She headed for Ginger’s cubicle, white coattails flying.

“Zach.” Callie strode down the hall from the E.R. entrance, Becca and Brandon trailing behind. They all looked worried and wound up. Callie was still wearing the raincoat, but she’d added a royal-blue Michigan sweatshirt to ward off the chill of the wet night. The twins were wearing jeans and T-shirts and hoodies that were beaded with rain. So the weather hadn’t let up. He’d almost forgotten about the storm. Funny, how outside considerations got away from you in the hospital. It wasn’t like the clinic, where he could gaze out the window just about any time the mood struck him and see the sky and the lakeshore and the woods and meadowland stretching away into the distance. “I hoped I’d find you here,” she said as she approached him.

He glanced at his watch. “It took you a bit longer than I expected.”

She gave him a half smile. There were faint shadows under her eyes. It occurred to him that they were both going on forty-eight hours with very little sleep, operating now on willpower and adrenaline. “I brought my mother along with us. She was still in a lot of pain and I didn’t want to leave her alone at the duplex. I figured we might as well take Dr. Assad up on his offer and have her wrist checked out. Mom’s filling out the paperwork now. I’ll catch up with her once the kids have seen Ginger. How is she doing?”

“She’s being prepped for a C-section. Dr. Carmichael, the OB, doesn’t want to take any chances.”

Callie nodded. It was obvious she had a myriad of other questions but she wouldn’t ask them in front of the twins. “Can the kids have a few minutes with her?”

“Certainly,” said Dr. Carmichael as she came out from behind the curtain of Ginger’s cubicle. Heads swiveled in her direction. “C’mon in, kids,” she said, beckoning them forward. “Your mom and dad are waiting.”

“You heard her say it. Our
dad,
” Brandon whispered as he grinned up at Callie. Becca smiled, too. She reached out and took Callie’s hand. Brandon grabbed the other one. Both youngsters were holding back a little, apprehensive, letting Callie lead the way.
The big sister.

Zach was glad that at least one aspect of Callie’s family building was going the way she wanted it to.

Zach didn’t follow them down the hall, conscious once more of being the outsider, as he had so often been in his life. But then Callie beckoned him with her eyes. She waited as he hesitated, then smiled as he fell into step behind them. The ache in his chest lessened slightly. Maybe she would forgive him. Maybe there was still a chance for him to win her back.

Zach halted just inside the curtain and remained there, one shoulder propped against the wall. The small, harshly lit space was crowded with five people squeezed in among portable monitors and IV poles. But the twins barely seemed to notice. They had eyes for no one or nothing but their mother. Ginger held out her arms and both children moved to her side, Becca laying her head on her mother’s shoulder, sobbing quietly, Brandon patting Ginger’s cheek. Callie moved to J.R.’s side and he put his arm around her shoulder and she slipped her arm around his waist. “Thanks for coming so quickly, sweetie.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” she said. She laid her cheek against his shoulder for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Becca choked out. “I’m sorry I’ve been so mean all summer. I promise I will be nice to you from now on. I’ll be perfect and keep my room clean and help with anything you ask me to. I’ll even change the baby’s diapers,” she finished in a rush.

Ginger laughed and wrapped her arms around her daughter’s thin shoulders. “Oh, honey, don’t cry. Thank you for wanting to do all that for me, but you don’t have to make anything up to me. I understand. We should have talked about this sooner. I know it’s always been just us, but I
promise you I have enough love in my heart for you, your brother
and
a new baby. As a matter of fact, for all of you.” Her eyes met J.R.’s, the last words spoken for him alone.

“And for Callie, too?” Brandon asked, tears running down his cheeks again. Callie found a box of tissues on the counter running along one wall of the cubicle. She held them out to Brandon and he blew his nose with a honk that would have made a decent goose call.

Ginger smiled. “For Callie, too, if she wants it.”

“Yes,” Callie said. “I do.”

Zach watched from his place just beyond the family circle as one more piece of Callie’s family puzzle fell into place. The Laymans were fusing themselves into a blended family right before his eyes.

And he had never felt more alone in his life.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“T
HANK
YOU
FOR
bringing the twins to me,” Ginger said to Callie. Then she lay back against the hard pillow of the bed and closed her eyes, as if she no longer had to fight the tranquilizing effect of her pre-op meds.

Callie took a quick assessment of the readings on the screens above and beside the high bed, both the one that monitored Ginger’s vital signs and the one that monitored the baby’s. Ginger’s blood pressure had come down to within normal limits, and the baby’s heartbeat was strong and steady. They had got to her in time. Under Dr. Carmichael’s and Zach’s expert care, Ginger’s baby would be born safely.

Callie turned to share her relief with Zach only to find he was gone, the curtains swaying slightly where he had just been standing. Her disappointment was so acute it bordered on real pain.

The curtain was swept aside again and for a split second she hoped he had returned, tall and reassuring, in control and in charge even in the set of worn blue-gray scrubs and a surgical cap he’d found somewhere. Only, it wasn’t Zach but a tired, harried-looking surgical tech carrying a clipboard. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of all of them standing around Ginger’s bed. J.R. was still wearing his White Pine polo shirt with a bar towel stuck in the back pocket of his khakis, just as it had been when he left the restaurant. He had a day-old beard and for the first time Callie thought he looked every one of his forty-nine and three-quarter years. The twins were tearstained and clinging to their mother’s hand. For her part, Callie was sure she looked every bit like a woman who had been awake and on her feet for most of the past two days. The tech’s distracted expression was replaced with a sympathetic smile. “I’m here to take Mrs. Layman upstairs,” she said. “You can wait in the family waiting room on the third floor. There are couches and a couple of vending machines, and the nurses’ station’s just a few steps away.”

“Thanks,” Callie said automatically. “Take care of her, Dad,” she said, rising on tiptoe to give J.R. a quick peck on the cheek.

“Say a prayer,” he whispered back, “for both of them, for all three of us.”

“You’ll both be fine.” She gave Ginger’s hand a quick squeeze. “Zach will make sure of that.”

“Yes, he will.” Ginger’s smile was serene. They would be fine from now on because she and her stepmother would always have one thing in common—they both understood the importance of family. It meant as much to Ginger as it did to her. Her stepmother had proved that by entrusting her children to Callie’s care, and in a smaller way by letting Karen be a part of their lives.

“Okay, kids, let’s move out. We need to go check on my mom before we go upstairs.”

“Your mother’s with you?” J.R. asked.

Callie paused on her way out of the cubicle. “I forgot to tell you. She’s here for a CT scan on her wrist. How’s that for multitasking? Don’t worry, Dad. I’ve got it under control.”

“I’m sure you do.” He gave her a thumbs-up. There would always be a residual bond between Karen and J.R. because of her, but Ginger and the baby were J.R.’s future. Karen was the past. Callie could accept that now. It wasn’t a failure on her part; it was the way it should be.

“March, you two,” she said with mock sternness. “We’re in the way.” Becca opened her mouth to object and Brandon started sniffling but they obeyed and followed Callie out to the main waiting room of the E.R. Karen was sitting in a wheelchair waiting for them.

“Have you had your CT scan already?”

“Yes, I’m all finished with it. They wheeled me right in. They said Dr. Assad would be down to talk to us about the results before too much longer.”

“Then we should wait here until he comes.”

The weariness Callie had been struggling to keep at bay pushed at the edges of her consciousness. She fought it using a visualization trick she’d learned in her early days of medical school. The technique worked well most of the time, but it had its limits. For a moment the fatigue got the best of her. How, she wondered, on top of everything else, would she get them all safely back home? She was so tired she could barely stay on her feet, let alone undertake an hour’s drive back to White Pine Lake.

Becca went to Karen and patted her hand. “After you talk to the doctor, do you want to come upstairs and wait with us to get our new baby?”

A momentary spasm of pain flashed across her mother’s face. Sometimes even Karen Freebeing must wonder if the price of her freedom and her vaunted self-sufficiency had been worth the cost. “Is that all right with you, Callie?”

Callie pretended not to notice Karen’s moment of regret. She was certain her mother hadn’t intended to show it. “We’ll all be more comfortable upstairs.”

She’d hoped to find Zach in the E.R., but she was disappointed. The empty feeling in the middle of Callie’s stomach intensified. She needed to talk to him, just for a moment, to tell him that despite what had transpired between them earlier, she had every confidence in his skill and ability. That she was certain he would bring Ginger’s baby, her brother or sister, into the world safely. But it seemed she wouldn’t get the chance.

She peered down the long hallway. Painted stripes of different colors decorated the walls, serving as guidelines to direct visitors to the various hospital departments. The blue surgery line stretched off into the distance toward a wall where it made a sharp left turn. While she watched, a man in a white coat came out of a room with Medical Imaging above the door. Dr. Assad appeared older and more tired than he had on the computer screen just a few hours earlier. The E.R. was quiet at the moment, but it was the quiet of the eye of a hurricane—or a lull in a thunderstorm.

“Dr. Layman. It is a pleasure to meet you in person so soon, but I’m sorry it’s because you have another medical emergency in your family. I hope the outcome is favorable for both of them.” Callie was surprised Assad knew about Ginger. Her surprise must have shown on her face. “Your mother told me about your stepmother’s complicated pregnancy as she was having her CT scan,” he explained.

Of course, how silly of her. She really was getting too tired to function well.

Before Callie could make a polite reply, the intercom system came to life. A woman spoke, her voice calm but with an underlying layer of suppressed alarm. “Code Yellow. All available personnel to E.R. Repeat. Code Yellow. All available personnel to E.R.” Code Yellow referred to a mass casualty event. It was a situation every hospital trained their staff for and hoped never to experience.

“A bad accident,” Assad revealed, answering Callie’s unspoken question. “Three cars full of teenagers out far too late. The first one braked for a deer and caused a chain reaction.”

“How terrible. Can I be of help?” The offer was automatic.

“I appreciate the offer but we have extra personnel on the way, and your place is with your family,” he reminded her. “I’ve reviewed your mother’s CT scan. The break was clean. It should heal well. If you want me to cast it on Monday, I will, but you and Zach can do it just as well and save her yet another trip to the city. If you have any further questions, do not hesitate to give me a call.”

“Thank you, Doctor. We can manage from here.”

“Certainly. Now I must go.” He gave her hand one more quick shake and hurried away.

The E.R. was filling with nurses, medical techs and doctors in wrinkled white coats. She wondered if one of them was Donnell Parsons, the neurosurgeon whose offer to join him in a high-profile practice in Ann Arbor might take Zach away from White Pine Lake, away from her. She heard the wail of sirens in the distance. Part of her longed to stay and offer her services, but she was an outsider here, out of her element, and she might do more harm than good. She was not meant to be a hospitalist, a doctor who operated only in an institutional setting. Deep down she had always understood that about herself. She was meant for family practice, for taking care of the everyday aches and pains, the long-term health and well-being of all the people of her hometown, from the very young to the very old. She had made her choice. But what of Zach? Was the White Pine Lake clinic where he wanted to be, what he wanted to be doing? She wouldn’t stand in his way, but if he wanted to leave, she wouldn’t go with him. There was no future for the two of them as partners, or as lovers, if that was his choice. It was simply the way it had to be.

She was exactly where she’d vowed never to be, in danger of a broken heart and a broken partnership. But now she could count on her family to help her get through the misery of it all.

She moved behind Karen’s wheelchair and started pushing her mother toward the elevators that would take them to the birthing unit on the third floor. “Are you all right, Callie?” Karen asked, twisting her neck to peer over her shoulder.

“Yes, fine,” she said, even though she was anything but. “C’mon, kids. Follow me.”

* * *

I
T
WAS
ALMOST
DAWN
,
Zach realized as he stepped out of the operating room, catching a glimpse of gray-blue sky through one of the long, narrow windows that faced out over the lake. The adrenaline rush of helping bring a new life into the world had so far kept his fatigue at bay, but he could feel it prowling at the edges of his consciousness. He ignored it. He was good at that; he’d had a lot of practice. He focused on his current objective: finding Callie to tell her everything had gone well.

As he’d left the room, J.R. had been holding their newborn son for Ginger’s inspection, sharing those first moments of bonding for the three of them before Ginger was transferred to the recovery room. The baby was small, an ounce or two less than six pounds, but his score on the Apgar scale was high and his lungs were well developed—always a concern in a premature birth. He and Ginger would stay in the hospital for several days so that their conditions could be closely monitored, but as of now it appeared there would be no need to transfer him to Ann Arbor or even Traverse City for more specialized care.

J.R. had asked Zach to tell Callie and the kids the good news so he could stay with Ginger as long as possible. Zach appreciated the gesture. He wanted to be there to watch Callie’s face when she learned she had a baby brother. He wanted to watch the twins’ faces, too, he realized. Brandon would be triumphant. Becca more reserved, but thrilled all the same. He would go with them to the nursery, where they could admire their little brother briefly, cleaned and warm and wearing a tiny hand-sewn blue cap on his head of dark hair. Then the baby would be taken to Ginger in the recovery room for his first feeding. And later they would all be together in Ginger’s room, and the picture taking and the oohing and aahing would begin in earnest.

Zach smiled to himself as he pulled off the paper cap and shoe coverings he’d worn in the sterile environment of the operating room. He was getting his second wind. He did love doing this, but not enough to give up what he had found in White Pine Lake. He had made his decision to stay in family medicine with less trepidation than Callie, but it was good to have it reinforced in his own mind.

Callie.
The urgency he felt to be with her was stronger than ever. He had to make her understand why he’d kept the job offer from her. She’d just spent several hours interacting with all his old colleagues. He remembered her reaction, the dismay she’d tried so hard to hide when Assad had brought up the offer to go to Ann Arbor with Parsons. How many more chance mentions of the job offer had she been subjected to?

The music-box rendition of “Brahms’s Lullaby” came across the loudspeakers. The hospital played the tune whenever a baby was born. Callie would hear it and know it was J.R. and Ginger’s child that had arrived. She would soon be caught up in the excitement of greeting the new arrival. The nursery and birthing suites were on the third floor at the opposite end of the hospital. It was a hike, but he had made the trip a hundred times at least over the past couple of years. He headed for the stairway.

Suddenly he noticed the unusual amount of activity in the pre-op staging area for a Sunday morning.

Voices were hushed, the atmosphere was tense. Something was going on, something big. Announcements weren’t broadcast into the operating rooms, so he hadn’t heard anything, but whatever event had happened in the past hour, it was evident the whole surgical floor had gone on alert. He spotted Donnell Parsons coming off the elevator. Short, bull-necked and balding at thirty-seven, the man heading toward him looked more like a linebacker than a highly trained neurosurgeon.

But now Zach was convinced something was very wrong. Parsons never operated on Sunday unless it was an emergency. The neurosurgeon hadn’t yet spotted him. All Zach had to do was turn and walk away.

He stayed where he was.

* * *

T
HE
SOUND
OF
MUSIC
-
BOX
CHIMES
filled the waiting room. Callie turned away from the window.
“Brahms’s Lullaby
.
”
The baby was here. She had a brother or sister. She pressed her fingers to her lips.

Please, let them both be well and safe
. She glanced at the overstuffed leather sofa a few feet away. The twins were asleep, one at either end, their heads pillowed on their arms. It could be quite a while before anyone came to escort them to Ginger and the new baby. She would let them sleep for a few minutes longer.

A man’s figure came toward her from the direction of the elevators. She blinked the remnant of tears from her eyes, hoping for a moment it was Zach. But it wasn’t. It was her father.

“Dad.” She hurried forward. “How are they? Are they both okay? Is it a boy or a girl?”

He grinned, erasing some of the tension and fatigue from around his eyes and the corner of his mouth, taking ten years off his age. “They’re both fine. It’s a boy, Callie. I have a son.”

“Oh, Daddy. A boy. Brandon will be thrilled!”

“He’s twenty inches long, weighs five pounds and fourteen ounces, and he was born bellowing at the top of his lungs.”