New Beginnings (12 page)

“Fern, if your power doesn’t come on in a couple of hours, have the boys start the gas generator. That’ll keep food cold in the freezer and will give you enough juice to run the furnace.”

“We’ll keep the fire going too. We’ll be fine, honey. We go through this at least once every winter.”

That was true. But James didn’t like that he wasn’t home to see to the gas generator himself. Fern was as mentally strong as any woman he’d ever known. Physically, she’d need to rely on the boys. James had to trust they could handle the situation.

The lights flickered back on in the lobby. Eddie had done his job well.

“I’ve gotta go, honey,” he said. “Have to see to my patients. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Snapping the phone closed, he hurried up the stairs. Fortunately all elective surgeries had been canceled, which meant there weren’t many patients left in his unit. Mrs. Witten was still in ICU, so he stopped in there first.

He cast a glance at the monitor in front of Elena. Witten’s vitals looked good.

“How’s she doing?” he asked.

“Holding her own, I’d say. Dr. Drew has her on a lot of medications and antibiotics, and her temperature is almost normal. Her husband and daughter are pretty much a wreck though. They really panicked when the power went down.”

“I can imagine.” He looked through the glass wall and watched the steady rise and fall of Trisha Witten’s chest. The yellow of her skin had faded since the operation. That was a good sign. “Have you heard how long this storm is going to last?”

“I watched the six o’clock weather report this morning.” She leaned back and took a sip from the insulated coffee mug on her desk. “We’re looking at anywhere from thirty-six to forty-eight hours of continuous blowing snow and freezing temperatures.”

Worry knotted in James’s stomach. Even if an available donor was found, there was very little chance the liver would get here safely. Certainly no Life Flights from anywhere in the Midwest could take off in this weather or land on the helicopter pad on the roof of Hope Haven Hospital.

Trisha Witten would have to hang on for at least two more days. Then if a liver became available, she’d have a chance.

Curled up on a couch in the staff lounge, her feet tucked under her, Candace said, “When should we tell the children?”

“I don’t know. Should we call them?” Heath sat in a chair with his feet propped on a coffee table. They were both tired from a night spent in the hospital and were taking a midmorning break.

“Oh no, I think we have to tell them in person. We don’t know how they’ll react.”

“They’ll be as excited as we are.”

Candace rotated her neck to work out the kinks. “Don’t be so sure. Children can be unpredictable. This will be a big change in their lives as well as ours. We have to reassure them we’ll still love them as much as we always have.”

“Sure. They’ll know that. There’ll always be enough love to go around.” He appeared confident that there wouldn’t be a problem with Howie and Brooke’s accepting a new baby into their lives.

Candace was about to respond when Anabelle walked into the lounge.

“Hi, you two. I thought you were going home last night.”

Hoping Anabelle hadn’t overheard their conversation, a flush crept up Candace’s neck and bloomed on her cheeks.

“We tried to get out of here,” Heath said. “But the battery was dead as a doornail, much to my chagrin. So we decided to stay put rather than struggling to get home in the dark and risk a total breakdown.”

“Maybe Eddie can give you a jump.” Anabelle plucked a Styrofoam cup from the dwindling supply and poured herself some coffee. “Good grief, how long has this coffee been in here? It looks like somebody changed the oil in their car and poured the old stuff in the coffeepot.”

“Sorry,” Candace said, her cheeks flushing again. “I haven’t had any coffee today.”

Anabelle eyed her suspiciously. “Looks like tea would be a better choice for now. May I fix you a cup?”

“Oh no, not for me, thanks,” Candace said.

Heath stood. “I think I’d better get back to work.”

“Me too.” Candace uncurled herself from the couch and stood. “See you later, Anabelle.” She and Heath left the lounge, their hands at their sides barely brushing together in the barest touch of skin on skin, a connection which sent a palpable message of love and caring.

Turning to put a pot of water on to boil, Anabelle frowned. That was odd. Candace’s beverage of choice was coffee. Yet she hadn’t had any coffee all morning.

A niggling thought occurred to Anabelle and she smiled. The couple had married four months ago. With a sense of anticipation bubbling up in her, she suspected there might be a very good reason indeed for Candace not to drink coffee. Or tea. Anabelle certainly hoped so.

Struggling through a second night of sleeping in a hospital bed, his pager woke James at 6:00
AM.

He squinted at the message. Dr. Drew. Immediately James worried that Trisha Witten had passed away during the night. Though her condition had improved after her surgery, her life had been on a razor’s edge when he’d checked on her before going to bed last night.

Pulling on a fresh set of scrubs, he hurried to Dr. Drew’s office. He found the doctor looking as disheveled as he felt—his hair mussed, dark rings beneath his gray eyes.

“I just got the call. UNOS has found a liver for Witten,” the doctor said without preamble.

“Thank You, Lord.” James followed his heartfelt prayer with a sigh of relief that the organ-transplant network had pulled through for Mrs. Witten.

“Don’t get your hopes up. The liver’s in Springfield, Illinois. Normally, a Life Flight could get the liver to us in an hour.”

James sank into a chair in front of Dr. Drew’s desk. “But not in this weather.”

The doctor’s brows angled downward and so did his lips, a child’s drawing of a sad face. “Not anytime soon. The liver will stay viable for twelve hours, no more than that. If I can’t find a way to get that liver up here from Springfield, they’ll give it to someone else. Or it will go to waste.”

“They can’t do that,” James protested. “I know Mrs. Witten has been number one on the list for quite a while.”

Standing, Dr. Drew paced around his small office, stopped, and looked out the window at the fog-shrouded landscape and falling snow. “The duct resectioning hasn’t helped her much. Her liver still isn’t doing its job. She’s got maybe a day or two left. If we don’t get her that liver, the rest of her organs are going to start breaking down. There’s not much likelihood of another liver becoming available in the next forty-eight hours. Even less chance of one showing up here in Deerford.”

James’s chest ached with a sense of failure. He hated to lose a patient. Particularly a woman who had so much to live for—her daughter’s wedding, subsequent grandchildren. It seemed like such a cruel verdict.

A verdict he was going to reverse. Mrs. Witten deserved a chance to live.

He stood. “Dr. Drew, call the UNOS people back. Tell them I’m coming to Springfield to pick up the liver.”

D
R. DREW’S EYES WIDENED AND HIS HEAD SNAPPED
back as though he’d been slapped.

“You can’t get to Springfield in this weather,” he insisted. “Some areas have gotten as much as twenty-five inches of snow in the past two days. The state police closed the interstate yesterday.”

“I’ve driven through worse conditions than this in Iraq,” James insisted. Except it was blowing sand, not snow, and 120 degrees.

“It would be dangerous to try, James. It’s a two-and-a-half-hour drive in good conditions. Who knows how long it would take on a day like today. You have to accept that we can’t save all of our patients. Inevitably, some die.”

“I’m not going to take any unnecessary risks, and I’m not going to let Trisha Witten die if I can help it.” His brain ratcheted up in search of ways to make the trip successful for Mrs. Witten and not a disaster for him. “Eddie Blaine likes to go off-road hunting in the fall. He drives an oversized four-wheel-drive truck with big snow tires. If any vehicle can make it to Springfield, his truck can.”

“You’re going to ask Eddie to drive to Springfield—”

“No, I’m going to ask to borrow his truck. I wouldn’t put anyone else at risk.”

“The state police won’t let you on the interstate. Taking side roads, which probably haven’t seen a plow during the entire storm, would take you days to get through.”

“I understand. That’s why I want you to get on the phone to the state police. Tell them what I’m doing, that it’s an emergency. Ask them to clear me all the way through to Springfield and back.”

His brow furrowed and his eyes troubled, the doctor shook his head. “This is crazy.”

“After you talk to the state police, call all the towns and cities along the way. See if you can get their plows to come out on the highway to clear off the right lanes in both directions. If they’ve got civilians with plows on their trucks, ask them to help too.”

Dr. Drew held James’s gaze with a hint of hope in his eyes. “You’re determined to do this, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll have my cell phone with me. Keep me posted about what the state police say.” He ran his hand across the back of his neck, wondering if he was being foolish. Putting his own life at risk when he had Fern and the boys to worry about. But someone had to get that liver back to Hope Haven. “I’m going to find Eddie now and ask to use his truck. Then I’m going by my house to pick up my winter camping gear and some emergency supplies in case I get stuck and have to wait out the storm on my own.”

“All right,” Dr. Drew reluctantly agreed. “I’ll do what I can from here. Remember, that liver is only viable for twelve hours. Which means it needs to be in my hands by four o’clock. After that—”

“I understand.” James glanced at his watch. “Tell the HP I’ll be en route in less than an hour. I’ll be back here before four this afternoon.” If he wasn’t, Trisha Witten would be the one to suffer.

With that, James did a precise about-face and double-timed down the hallway to the stairs. He’d find Eddie, get permission to use his truck, and be on his way.

He prayed that, like during his tour of duty in the Gulf, the Lord would be with him and protect him. This time he also needed the Lord’s protection for the liver Mrs. Witten so sorely needed.

Anabelle still had five patients in the CCU, and her eyes were so tired, they burned. She took off her reading glasses, rubbed her eyes, and stared again at the computer screen. She noted that Dr. Harriet Hildebrand was going to perform a stent operation that morning on a patient who had been brought in the night before.

“Have you been on all night?”

Anabelle looked up over the top of her glasses at Leila Hargrave, the hospital Nursing Administrator. To Anabelle’s surprise, Leila was wearing scrubs instead of her usual tailored suit.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve lost track of time. Is it really morning or am I hallucinating?”

Leila didn’t crack a smile. She rarely did. “We’re both too old for this.”

“Have you been up all night too?”

With her right hand, Leila tried to tuck some loose strands of gray hair into the usually tight bun at her nape. Failing in the effort, she let it go.

“Every nurse who has managed to get into the hospital during the storm is exhausted from the long hours. I had to send two home who’d come down with colds. We don’t need any viruses spread around the hospital now. So I filled in on the Oncology Unit last night.”

Anabelle couldn’t remember the last time Leila performed any nursing services, although she knew the administrator had years of experience. At one time or another, she’d probably worked in every medical department.

“Angie relieved me a few minutes ago,” Leila continued. “Why don’t you go catch a couple of hours of sleep? I’ll watch over the CCU for you.”

“You’re just as tired as I am.”

“I’m fine.” Her jaw tensed as though ready to deflect a blow. “I don’t want to have to deal with any nursing mistakes because of a staff member’s fatigue. Go rest for two hours.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. Leila’s tone mimicked a general addressing a lowly private. Anabelle bristled. “Of course, Ms. Hargrave. I’ll be happy to leave you in charge.” She stood and tried to straighten her spine. Her back ached. “I’ll return promptly in two hours.”

She walked down the hallway to the empty room she’d been sleeping in, when she had a chance. The fact that she was a few years older than Leila grated on her. She could still do her job, tired or not. She wasn’t ready to be assigned to an old folks home just yet.

Kicking off her shoes, she lay down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling through eyes that felt like they had been pierced by red-hot pokers. She didn’t make mistakes. She always checked a patient’s chart twice when delivering meds. Sometimes three times. She prided herself for being good at her job. Careful and precise.

Her eyelids closed on their own. She’d show Leila just how competent she was.

Out in the parking lot, Eddie helped James to clear the buildup of snow from his truck.

“You gotta be nuts.” Eddie worked the ice scraper across the windshield.

“There are those who would probably agree with you.” He grimaced. One of them would be Fern.

Snow continued to fall through the mist, covering the windshield almost as fast as Eddie could scrape off the old snow. The temperature hovered around twenty-five degrees. The defroster was going full blast in the truck and exhaust blew out in a cloud from the tailpipe.

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Eddie asked.

“Nope. I’ll be fine. I’ve driven an ambulance in worse conditions than this.” Zero visibility, sand shifting over what had formerly been a highway. This trip wouldn’t be all that different. Except for the cold.

Before James drove out of the parking lot, he called home. Gideon answered the phone.

“I need a favor, Son.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I need you to get out my zero-weather sleeping bag, brew some coffee, and heat up a can of soup. I’ll need two thermos bottles. Make up a big bag of trail mix too. You know, granola, raisins, some nuts.” James had done some winter camping with the boys in his Boy Scout troop and had plenty of gear to see him through a blizzard if he got stuck on the interstate.