Love on Call (10 page)

Mallory visited patient after patient. The E.R. hadn't changed since she'd been away. The morning flew by. Each time she moved about the department she looked for Brad. He didn't have to come to the E.R. often, but she'd gotten used to seeing him there.

She wondered what he'd decided to do about his mother. Had he called his family and told them? Mallory had many questions for Brad. She'd missed him more than she thought she would. But he was busy at the hospital and the shelter. And they hadn't really had a date. She'd invited him to go ballooning because she wanted to be with him. And he'd come to her more than once when he needed someone. It had joined her to him in friendship if nothing else. But she knew their relationship was more than that.

“Hey, how about some lunch?” Dana Baldwin asked, stopping behind Mallory.

“Lunch would be great.” Mallory stretched, placing her hands on her back. “It's time for my nap.”

Dana laughed. “You take a nap? I'll never believe
it. But I do want to know what you did on your vacation, since you were never home.”

They left the hospital and went to a deli across the street, where a lot of the nurses and doctors ate. The place was mobbed, but Dana knew how to handle crowds. She pushed her way through the maze and ordered sandwiches and drinks. Then they left the noise and chaos for the quiet of Dana's van.

“What did you do while you were off?” Dana bit into her sandwich.

Mallory knew she had to be careful about what she said. Dana was her friend, but Brad also trusted her. Mallory didn't want anything to jeopardize his trust.

“I went ballooning.”

Dana frowned. “I don't see how you can do that.”

“You should come sometime. It's beautiful up there.” The sky had never been so beautiful as it was the last time she went up. Brad had been with her.

“It might be, but it's beautiful down here, too, and I like my feet on the ground.”

Mallory smiled and didn't comment. She knew that ballooning wasn't for everyone. “How were things around here?”

“It was really busy. We could have used you, but we were ordered not to call you under any circumstances.”

“By whom?”

“Dr. Clayton.” Dana stared directly at her. Mallory tried to keep her expression neutral. “I think he really cares about you.”

Mallory was in the midst of drinking from her soda.
She choked on the liquid, coughing to cover her surprise.

“Dr. Clayton!” she said with artificial surprise in her voice. “Why would you think that?”

“The man has an attitude, for sure.” Dana raised one eyebrow. “But he's taken an interest in you particularly. The night after the incident in the E.R. he kept asking questions about you, wanted to make sure you had someone to watch over you. Then he found out how often you're on call. He made comments about how tired you look some days, and how rested on others. He never noticed anything about anyone else. And believe me, many of the nurses have tried to catch his eye. To top things off he forbade the staff from calling you after he forced you to take a vacation. His interest in you can only mean one thing.”

Mallory had stopped eating. Her ears were so hot she was sure flames were shooting into her hairline. “Gossip,” she said.

“Love,” Dana countered, dropping her hands to her lap.

Mallory frowned, but the idea wasn't repulsive. In fact, she liked it. She held that inside and felt her heart flutter. She would love to take Dana into her confidence, but she hadn't worked everything out in her own head yet. Until then she couldn't even let her friend know how she felt.

“Can you picture Brad Clayton in love?” Mallory asked. She could very well imagine it. In fact, her body was passionately aware of his lovemaking. Him
being in love wasn't a huge leap. Him acknowledging he was in love was a gulf as wide as the Pacific.

“I guess not,” Dana finally said with a sigh. “But it was a nice thought. And I still think he feels something for you.”

“He doesn't feel anything for me, and if he did, it would probably scare him.”

“I'm sure it does. He's been around here for years and never looked twice at anyone until you walked through the door.”

“Dana, he never noticed me until that day in the E.R.” She couldn't bring herself to mention the incident by name.

“There has to be something that initiates every meeting. Yours was a little unconventional.”

“Yeah, we all want to meet during a near-death experience.”

“And the hero rushes over to take care of the damsel in distress.”

“I was not in distress, and Brad certainly didn't rush over. He only acted like a doctor. There was nothing more to it than that.” Mallory bit into her sandwich to avert her eyes.

“I know Dr. Clayton has a lot of problems, but it would do him good to talk them out with someone. And I think the someone he's chosen is you.”

“When did you go into psychology?” Mallory wanted to end this discussion. Her feelings for Brad were a little too close to the surface, and if Dana looked closely enough, she was bound to see them.

“Psychology is only human nature, and I've seen
enough of that. They pay me to observe, read what people say and what they
don't
say.” She stared directly into Mallory's eyes. “Like now.”

“What does that mean?” Mallory controlled her voice, which wanted to rise an octave. She felt a nervousness in her stomach and wondered if she'd already played her hand.

“It means you're defending him. And that is something in itself. It means something must have changed between you two.” Dana paused to let her words sink in. “So tell Dr. Dana what it is.”

Mallory was about to burst, wanting to tell someone how she felt, what had happened. But she'd promised Brad she would keep his secret. Dana was waiting for her to say something. She could lie to her, but Dana was smarter than that.

“Dana, is the staff gossiping about Dr. Clayton and me?”

Dana shook her head. “There have been a few comments on his change in attitude toward you, but mostly the talk has to do with the ghost. She was seen last week while you were away.”

Mallory expelled a relieved, yet controlled, breath. The temptation was there. She tried to think of one tidbit she could tell Dana, but anything she said would lead to something else, and soon she would have to tell everything, including Brad's secrets. She knew she wouldn't do that.

“Dana, there is nothing I can tell you that has changed.” Mallory chose her words carefully.

 

This was highly unusual, Mallory told herself for the thirtieth time that afternoon. Since when did a doctor get transferred in the middle of the day, let alone after lunch? And without notice. Yet here she was on the second floor. In pediatrics. Where Brad ruled. He had to have a hand in this, and Mallory didn't like it. She didn't like being manipulated.

Still, it was her job to be cheery, so she put a smile on her face before she went into the room where a little girl, Loretta Emery, lay on a hospital bed. The smile was genuine. As soon as Mallory saw the small child her mouth automatically curved up.

“Hi, Loretta,” Mallory said.

The child's eyes opened slowly. She turned her head toward Mallory, but said nothing. The child was alone and Mallory wondered where her mother was.

“I'm Dr. Russell. I'm here to see how you're doing.”

“I'm sick.” Her voice was thin.

“Can you tell me what made you sick?”

She shook her head. “When I woke up I didn't feel good. Dr. Clayton said I should come here.”

Mallory went to the head of the bed. She felt the child's forehead, not so much to check for a temperature as to comfort her. The child looked small and afraid. Mallory consulted the chart where the nurses noted the child's vitals. She had a slight fever and an elevated blood pressure. Flipping through the pages, Mallory noted a previous diagnosis: acute lymphoblastic leukemia.

Her heart sank. The child had been admitted earlier
today. Blood had been drawn, but the lab results were not available yet. Looking further, Mallory discovered the child's spleen had been removed seven months ago. Her prognosis didn't look good.

“Where do you live, Loretta?” Mallory tried to sound happy. Until the lab work came back there was little she could do except stay with the child and keep her from being frightened.

“I'm Lori,” she said. “Everyone calls me that.”

“All right, Lori, where do you live?”

“At the shelter.”

Homelessness in Philadelphia was rapidly reaching epidemic proportions. The foster care system was so overburdened that children stayed in shelters longer than they should.

“How did you get here?” Mallory asked.

“I brought her.” Mallory jumped at the sound of Brad's voice. She steeled herself to look at him. She hadn't seen him since the night they'd made love. She didn't want their reunion to be here, over a sick child. She wanted to see him someplace outside the hospital, where she could run into his arms and feel the strength of that magnificent body.

When Mallory turned to look into his eyes what she saw turned her blood to ice. There was no warmth in them at all. She could tell he'd crawled back into the shell he presented to the world. Mallory had thought she'd cracked it, broken it open, but the look in his eyes showed her it was solidly in place. She knew the words. She'd heard them before.
Forget we ever had anything together.

Brad moved to the side of the bed and ran his hand over Lori's hair. The child tried to smile at him, but she was too weak.

“I'm still waiting for your test results,” he told her. “I want you to get some sleep.”

Lori closed her eyes and settled into the pillow. Brad had a talent with children. They loved him and he had a genius for showing them he cared about their well-being. Mallory was exactly the opposite. She could cope with any emergency, but to see children suffering tore at her heart.

“Dr. Russell?” Brad had called her name twice before she heard him. She looked up. “Come with me.”

Outside the child's room Mallory's composure came back. She walked along with Brad as they headed down the hall.

“I see you went back to the Bradley School of Charm in the last few days.”

“What?” He stopped.

“Your attitude is back. What happened to you? I haven't seen you since…” She paused, remembering their night together and their morning. When he'd left her she would have sworn he was a changed man. “I thought you'd act more human.”

“Human?” Brad looked around. A couple of people were staring at them. They quickly looked away when his eyes settled on them. Grabbing her arm, he pushed her down the hall to his office. Closing the door, he turned to face her. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About us.”

“There is no us. You've already decided that.”

Brad looked at the floor, then back at her. “I'm sorry things got out of hand at your place, but they can't spill over here.”

“Things didn't get out of hand at my place. They changed after you left. After you had time to think about us. After you saw how good we were together. It scared you, didn't it, Brad?” She waited a moment. “It scared me, too.”

“This is pediatrics, Mallory, not psychiatry.”

“You won't acknowledge it. You're so wrapped up in trying to save every child, trying to find that child who was lost on the street, you can't even see what you're doing to yourself.”

“And what am I doing to myself?”

Mallory wanted to hit him. He was mocking her. “You're trying to find yourself. It's too late, Brad. The kid that was you is not out there. He's in here.”

“What do you know of it? You grew up in the well-ordered world of people who loved you from the day you were born. You weren't left to fend for yourself, eating out of garbage cans and never knowing who the next bully would be who wanted to take you out.”

“You're right, I don't know. I don't know life on the streets. But I do know what it's like to be alone and afraid and feel as if no one understands you.” Mallory drew in a deep breath. “I also know what it's like to have a mother abandon you.”

With that she pushed him aside and opened the door to leave.

B
rad's eyes snapped open. The dimness of his bedroom revealed familiar objects as the cloud of dreams in his mind vaporized. His heart drummed inside his chest. He swung his feet to the floor, sitting up and dropping his head in his hands. He hadn't had that dream in years. And now he'd had it three times in one week.

It was raining hard. Water ran in rivers down the gutters and lightning flashed over trash cans in back alleys. He'd been running, jumping over fences, skidding around corners, the police on his heels. But he knew the alleyways, knew where to find unlocked doorways, vacant buildings and the maze of tunnels that offered sanctuary or escape. Brad had been alone. He didn't know where his brother was, but Owen and he had a meeting place.

Brad didn't give any further thought to Owen. He concentrated on running, getting away from the cops behind him. His breath came in short gasps and his feet pounded the ground with the same rapid cadence as his heartbeat. His lungs burned from exertion and he thought his legs would burst into flames at any moment. Still the cops followed. He searched his brain for a way out, a place he could go that would throw them off, slow them down, but he couldn't think.

He sucked in air and remembered to breathe through his nose. The rain soaked his clothes. Water squished inside his sneakers as he ran through puddles in his quest to remain free. He wasn't going to make it. He could feel the cops getting closer. What would he do if he was caught? Where was Owen?

Brad hopped the fence, bending both knees and angling his agile body sideways. Surefooted, he hit the ground, continuing his escape without missing a beat. Sweat poured off him and he was hungry. That's how he'd gotten into this foot race: he'd stolen a candy bar. He hadn't had anything to eat all day and didn't think anyone would see him. He'd been nearly through the door of the convenience store when the cop came in. Chaos broke out and he took off, focused solely on escape. He could usually lose the cops within a block or two, but whoever was behind him this time dogged him like a shadow.

Brad pushed himself on, despite his burning lungs and fiery legs. The rain did nothing to cool the heat in his muscles. He kept going, but he could feel the
hand behind him. It was close. Soon he would feel it on his collar, yanking him back. He feared that hand more than he feared going without food or never seeing Owen. There was something about it that would change his life, if not end it. He had to get away.

He ran as fast as he could, but it wasn't fast enough. He was slowing already, allowing the man behind him to shorten the distance between them. Suddenly he felt the hand on his collar.

And he opened his eyes.

Brad drew breath into his lungs. He took long, deep gulps of air, filling his lungs as if he'd been a drowning swimmer who reached the surface in the nick of time. Relief spread through him. He was in his bedroom, safe. No one was chasing him. The wind outside was thrashing rain against the windows….

That had to be it, he thought. Rain was the trigger that had caused the dream. It took a while for his heart rate to return to normal, but the feeling in his stomach told him something was utterly wrong.

The clock dial read one o'clock. He'd only been in bed for an hour, yet he knew his night's sleep was shot. The dream always disturbed him. Growing up in a secure environment after he'd been caught and sent to the Claytons didn't negate the time he and Owen had been homeless.

Brad grabbed his clothes and dressed. Water pounded at the windows as if someone was trying to get inside. Brad ignored it. He would go for a drive. He wanted to go to Mallory. Talking to her made him feel better. But he'd insinuated himself in her life too
much and he didn't want to go deeper. Last week he'd crossed the line. Hell, he had obliterated it. And today in pediatrics, she'd been right on the mark.

He wouldn't go near her. He would just go out for a drive.

 

“Dr. Clayton, I didn't expect to see you.” One of the night nurses at the pediatric station stood up when he stepped off the elevator. She inclined her head at a questioning angle, obviously curious about his presence.

“I just wanted to check on a couple of patients.” He took a step toward Lori's room.

The nurse stopped him. “Dr. Clayton.” Her voice was soft, but commanding. Brad turned back. He could tell by her expression Lori was gone. The woman didn't have to tell him. He could see it in her eyes, hear it in the unspoken communication that reached across the silent corridor.

“When?” he asked.

“Twenty minutes ago. We've had several power surges due to the rain. The wind scared a lot of the children. We've only just gotten them calmed down. I was about to call you.”

Brad felt the emptiness inside him. He glanced at the door to Lori's room. It was closed. No light came from under it. He knew she'd already been moved. The cleanup crew had gone in, sanitized everything, remade the bed with clean sheets and replaced all the pitchers and cups. The drawers to the nightstand had
been cleaned, the floors mopped, the tray table sterilized. It was as if Lori had never been in that room.

“It was quick,” the nurse said from behind him. She must have moved, for her voice sounded closer. He didn't turn to look. “She slipped away in her sleep. There was nothing we could do. No warning. Suddenly the machines buzzed. We tried to resuscitate her, but it was too late.”

Brad turned then. “I understand,” he said as quietly as he could. He hadn't thought she would last through the night, but he'd hoped… “I'm all right,” he told the nurse, who looked at him as if he needed medical care. She waited a moment, then returned to the desk.

Brad felt sick. He had to get out of there. He pushed open the door to the stairs and went through it. With his back against the wall and his hands in tight fists, he took in long breaths. Lori was so young. She'd come to the shelter only three months ago. She and her mother, both ill, were apparently too late for care. Her mother had run away from an abusive husband and had gone to the shelter. She'd been beaten badly. Christina, the shelter nurse, had called an ambulance and the paramedics had brought the two of them to the hospital.

The arriving siren had stopped Brad as he was on his way out of the hospital. He couldn't go home after he'd seen the child. She was bruised, pale and afraid, and all around her people had been barking orders and using instruments that were scary to a child.

They had taken her mother to surgery immediately,
but it was too late. She had died before she ever got to the O.R. And he had discovered Lori had leukemia.

Leaning his head back against the cold cement wall, Brad closed his eyes and practiced his breathing. It was a calming effort. He did it to bring down his stress level. He knew he couldn't save the world. How often had Owen, Digger and Luanne said that to him? Still he wanted to try. Lori had been a beautiful child. In her short life she'd known few pleasures. He'd wanted to make her feel that she could laugh before she died. He'd known her time was short. There was nothing they could do to arrest the cancer, but he'd wanted her to lose the wariness, be content that no one was lurking about, ready to pounce on her if she let herself feel happy.

Brad hung his head and opened his eyes. He would be forever sorry he couldn't help Lori.

Somewhere, his brain registered something else—a faint sound. Brad latched on to it, wanting something to take his mind off the little girl. Then he heard them.

Footsteps.

He looked up. It was her.

The ghost, he thought.

Brad pushed away from the wall, trying to see better. She was wearing the outfit the nurses talked about—everything white except a green scarf that hung from the pocket of her pants. Brad had seen that first, but he hadn't seen her face. He assumed she'd seen him and retreated. He started up the stairs. There were few places she could go. He would bet she'd
get out on the coma floor. It had the least amount of people on it at this hour, and she could use the bridge to get to the other building.

Brad rushed up the stairs, bent on discovering the identity of the person who'd broken more hospital rules than he could count. His footsteps echoed in the stairwell and in his ears, but he kept his focus. He had something to keep him from thinking about Lori. He would find the ghost.

On the seventh floor he yanked open the door and stepped inside. He looked up and down the empty corridor. There was no sign of the ghost anywhere. Still, he knew she couldn't have disappeared into thin air. He sprinted for the ward. Breaking through it without slowing down, he caught the hand rail of the next set of stairs to slow his speed.

His labored breathing obliterated any sounds. Forcing himself to hold his breath for a moment, he heard the cadence of footsteps below, and raced toward them. He saw the green scarf as the woman swung around a corner. He ran on, rushing down the steps toward the ground floor. Finally he was going to see who this was. She was only one flight away, and even if she reached the door, the only thing outside was the parking lot. He could easily catch her. There was no place to hide.

Brad reached out. His hand closed over her white-clad arm. She resisted, but he held tight. Pulling back, he forced her to slow down. Possessing a greater strength than the woman fighting him, Brad whipped her around.

Just then the lights went out, plunging them both into absolute darkness.

 

The blackout was surprising, but it gave Mallory the opportunity she needed. She had known it was Brad chasing her. She'd seen him standing in the stairwell and had panicked. Then the hunt had begun.

She recovered from the sudden blackness before he did. Yanking her arm free, she dropped to a crouch, grabbed his ankles and pulled him off balance. He went down hard on the concrete floor.

Mallory heard Brad cry out in pain, but knew he hadn't hurt more than his pride. Sitting might be difficult for a day or so, but he would be all right. She fled.

She was accustomed to darkness and stairwells. She knew exactly which landing they were on and how many stairs she had to descend in order to reach the exit. Counting to herself, she agilely negotiated the steps, her feet as sure as if she'd grown up climbing mountains.

With only a second to spare, Mallory went through the door on the ground floor as the emergency generators kicked in and the lights came on. There were no patient rooms or nurses' stations on the first floor. The space was designed for admitting and discharging patients, giving information and directing visitors. The emergency room was on the other side of the building.

Brad wouldn't be far behind her. There was an exit only a few feet away. Mallory turned toward it; that
was the logical place for her to go. She opened the door wide, but instead of going through it, she let it swing shut, and ran along the corridor instead. All elevators in the hospital automatically returned to the first floor when not in use. She pushed the button and the doors opened with a silent whoosh of air.

Mallory got in.

She laughed as she drove away from the hospital long minutes later. She'd escaped. She'd escaped from Brad. He would love to find out who she was, who the ghost was. He was adamant about turning the intruder over to hospital security. She would have loved to have seen his face when he discovered it was her.

Her laughter stopped. It would be awful if he did catch her. What would happen to Margaret Keller? She hadn't wakened. She still had no visitors. And the other patients? The ones Mallory hadn't gotten to?

Tonight she'd had a close call. She couldn't let it happen again. And she knew security would be tighter from now on. Brad would make certain of that.

Her phone was ringing as she came through the door. Mallory ran for it, shrugging out of her coat and picking up the receiver.

“Hello,” she said, sure at this hour it had to be the hospital.

“Mallory.”

“Brad?”

 

Nature dictated that the oldest had more experience and was therefore the wiser. But there were excep
tions to every rule, and Brad and his older brother, Owen, constituted an exception. Brad had been the one finding food and places for them to sleep after their mother left. He'd eluded the police and come up with the meeting place in case the two of them got separated. Brad had taken care of Owen instead of the other way around. But they loved each other, bonding by blood and circumstance. No one could separate them and they would never abandon each other.

Owen had long ago come to terms with their mother's disappearance. Or so he'd led everyone to believe. He played the happy-go-lucky role, but Brad understood his brother well and knew it was only an act. Still, how Owen would react when he learned their mother was alive and living only a few hundred miles away was an unknown.

Brad's own reaction to the news had been unexpected. He'd always sworn that if he ever found out where she was, he would be there in no time, confronting her, accusing her, demanding to know why she'd left them, why she'd stopped loving them. Why she'd allowed them to spend the last twenty years living in limbo, not knowing if she was alive or dead. Yet he hadn't done it. He'd kept the information to himself. He hadn't called Owen or his adopted brothers and sisters. He hadn't flown to Austin to confront her. He hadn't told a soul. Only Mallory.

He missed seeing her, holding her. As much as his reaction—rather his nonreaction—to his mother's situation had surprised him, his reaction to Mallory was
an equal, though pleasant, surprise. He'd gone to her on several occasions when he needed someone. And he wanted to keep going. He liked the way he could talk to her, tell her his secrets and not find them on the lips of every nurse in the E.R. He liked the way she felt in his arms, the way she handled a hot-air balloon. He liked everything about her. He needed her.

Earlier tonight he'd almost driven to her house. After learning the news about Lori's death and then chasing and missing the “ghost,” he could only think of going to see Mallory. He wondered about her all the time. Yet when he saw her he wouldn't let on that she was anything more to him than one of the hospital residents.