Patient Nurse (6 page)

“She collapsed on a MARTA bus this morning. She'd locked her purse in her car and ran to catch the bus to work, but she never got there. They brought her to my hospital as a Jane Doe and I performed emergency surgery on her, without realizing her identity until the procedure was complete.”

“Well, she had the best care, whatever the circumstances. It's a relief to me to know that she's in such good hands. She's going to be all right?”

“Her vitals are within acceptable ranges,” Ramon said, “and she's conscious. We'll have to wait and see how she does. I expect a complete recovery.” He took a slow breath. “I never knew she had a heart condition. I wasn't told.”

“Don't feel bad. She never told anyone,” he replied. “I gather that she's an independent young woman with no close family.”

“She has an aunt and uncle who took her in when her parents died…”

“Of course, but you know how it is when some relatives wind up with unexpected kids. They never quite consider them their own.”

Ramon was still trying to get over the shock. “She told you that she was living with her cousin's parents?”

“Yes. She'd applied for a passport and had her birth certificate with her when she came to my office the last time. She was thinking of taking a job overseas, in some third-world country, she said. Thank God this happened before she left the States.”

Ramon sat down. “Yes.”

“Well, I'm happy to hear that my patient is going to survive. Please tell her that I'd like to see her when she's back on her feet again.”

“I'll do that. Thank you for what you've done for her.”

“I did nothing except make her come for checkups.”

“You kept her alive. Come and see me when you're in Atlanta next time. I'm at St. Mary's.”

“I'll do that. You might, uh, return the favor if you're ever in Macon.”

Ramon chuckled. “I'll make a point of it. Good evening.”

He hung up and the smile faded. What a lot he didn't know about Noreen. He wondered if the Kensingtons knew about her heart.

He had to find out. He phoned their number, only to get an answering machine message that they were out of town and wouldn't be back until the following week.

He borrowed the passkey from the owner after he had a locksmith get Norie's car unlocked for him. He paid the locksmith and sent him on his way. Then, with a wave to the owner of the apartment house, he took her purse inside and unlocked the door of her apartment on the second floor. The kitten came running to meet him, probably half-starved, he thought as he picked it up and tucked it under his jacket, so that no one would see him take it with him as he locked the apartment up again and left.

He had to stop by the store on the way home to buy a few necessary items for the kitten. It was a well-mannered little thing, he thought. It laid down beside him on the front seat and just stayed there, purring happily, not bothering anything.

When he got home again, it was company for him. He hadn't realized how lonely his apartment was. He made himself a pot of coffee, settled into an easy chair with a steaming cup beside him on the table and opened the medical journal that he'd received that day. The kitten climbed up into his lap, curled itself comfortably and went to sleep purring.

Before he went to bed, he telephoned ICU to check on Noreen, and found that she was continuing to make progress. When he went to bed, the kitten tagged right along. He felt it beside his head on the pillow as he drifted off to sleep.

 

It was late the next day before he was able to get back into ICU to check on Noreen. His schedule had been hectic all day, and he was between surgeries when he paused by her bed, still in his surgical greens.

Without a word, he checked her over, studied the monitors and listened to her chest.

“I'm…all right. When can I go home?” she asked.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Funny girl.”

“They won't give me anything to drink,” she accused. “And that short blond nurse ignores every question I ask her.”

“I'll have her shot,” he promised agreeably. “You're being moved out of here in the morning to a private room. I'll engage a nurse to sit with you.”

“I don't need—” she winced and paused to breath “—help from…you!”

“Thank you. I like you, too.” He searched the angry pale eyes and smiled reluctantly. “Yes, you're definitely better. I'll be back to check on you later.”

She blinked, still a little hungover from the anesthesia.

“Go to sleep,” he said gently.

She closed her eyes obediently.

He turned to the small blond nurse and motioned her to join him by the door.

“I know,” she said, holding up a hand, “I'm the wicked witch of ICU and I've been torturing her.” She smiled apologetically. “She wants cracked ice every five minutes. I have two patients who aren't doing half as well as she is, and medications to take around, we're shorthanded by one nurse…”

He patted her on the shoulder. “Take two aspirins and call me in the morning,” he told her. “You'll be fine.”

He left before she could get her mouth closed.

 

The last surgery went poorly. The patient was so far gone that all Ramon's skill wasn't enough to save him. He went out to tell the family, empty inside as he saw their grief and was helpless to do anything about it. One of the female chaplains appeared out of nowhere and took charge of the devastated family. Thank God for the chaplains, he thought as he went to change clothes. They were worth their weight in diamonds.

He made one more trip to ICU that night. The shifts had changed and a bright and cheerful young African-American nurse was in charge. She gave him a big grin.

“Your patients are going out on the floor tomorrow, aren't they?” she asked.

“You tell me,” he replied. “Think they'll do?”

She nodded. “They're improving by leaps and bounds. We fed Miss Kensington her supper tonight and she ate all of it. Great appetite.”

He smiled. “Good for her. No deterioration?”

She shook her head. “Her vitals are good and getting better by the minute.”

“Thanks.” He went to stand by Noreen's bed. She was awake fully now, and aware of her surroundings.

“You operated on me,” she accused.

“I told you before, I didn't know who you were. You had no identification on you.”

“I locked my purse in the car and had to run to catch the bus.” She drew in a labored breath and touched her chest through the hospital gown. “Hurts.”

“They'll give you something for that,” he said. “Run
ning for the bus probably precipitated this. Do you remember how you felt when you collapsed?”

“I didn't feel anything,” she recalled. “I saw the floor coming up toward me and I thought, I'll break my nose. Then everything went white.”

“No pain?”

“Not that I remember.” She searched his drawn face. “You look so tired,” she said involuntarily.

It surprised him that his heart jumped at her gentle concern. “Long day,” he said tersely. “And I lost a patient.”

“I'm sorry.”

Not one expression escaped his control. “It goes with the job. But it always hurts.” He searched her face. “Your color's much better.”

“When can I go back to work?”

“When you're well.”

She glowered at him. “I'll starve if I don't work.”

“No, you won't. Your hospital insurance is the best in town, and it has a disability clause.”

“How did you know?”

“I checked. You're already on the computer. I signed you in. By the way, I tried to call your aunt and uncle, but they're out of town.”

Her eyes shifted to the curtain. “There's no need to bother them. They don't like hospitals.”

“You're their niece,” he said. “They care about you.”

She didn't answer. She knew better, but she wasn't going to discuss it with him. He should have expected it.

“You're going out to 3 East tomorrow,” he said.

“The cardiac ward. All private rooms. There's a
nursing shortage. I'll lie there and die and nobody will notice.”

“Not there, you won't. You'll be hooked to the monitor at the desk. Someone watches constantly. And the technicians are all over the ward. You'll be fine. All the same, I'm having a nurse special you.”

She glared at him. “I can't afford…!”

“Calm down. Don't put any stress on that new valve,” he cautioned. “And I can afford it. You're family.”

“No, I'm not.” She ground out the words. “No relation. None.”

He saw the resentment and hostility in her eyes, and knew that she had every right to feel it. For two years he'd blamed her for something she hadn't done. She'd tried to explain at first and he'd refused to listen. Probably he deserved her contempt.

He stuck his hands into his pockets. “Have it your way. But you'll get the private nurse, all the same. I'll check on you in the morning.”

She was full of things to tell him, but he didn't stay to listen. She watched his broad back disappear out the door and her fist hit the bed furiously. The action hurt her chest and she groaned.

“Need something for pain?”

“Yes, please,” she answered the pretty nurse. She almost asked if they had anything for a dark-eyed pain in the neck, but considering how the staff adored Ramon here, she felt it was more diplomatic to keep her mouth shut.

He hadn't been joking about the nurse, she discovered the next day. Just after supper, a plump little tornado came in and sat down with a bag of knitting. She introduced herself as Miss Polly Plimm. She was a
nurse who'd worked on special cases for Ramon before. This young woman would need some assistance for a day or two, she noted, and she was more than happy to have the work. Having retired the year before, her lack of industry was beginning to atrophy her bones. She fetched cracked ice for Noreen and checked her vital signs and the catheter bag periodically, and encouraged her young charge at every turn.

Brad stopped by to check on his friend and was delighted to find her in such good hands. He was on day shift now and came to visit with her each evening for a few minutes before he went off duty. He noted her progress and applauded it, but he worried about what was going to happen when she had to go home. She was already talking about going back to her apartment. He hoped the surgeon wasn't going to allow that. She really couldn't stay by herself.

N
oreen was more aware of her surroundings after her second day on the cardiac ward, and her first totally logical thought was of the poor kitten, alone in her apartment. She and Nurse Plimm walked around the unit two times, while she brooded about the poor kitten that she'd forgotten under the effect of the surgery and the anesthetic.

Brad came by to see her and waited while she was settled and hooked up again to the oxygen and IV and cardiac monitor.

“My kitten,” she said plaintively. “She's alone in my apartment. She's been there for days with no food and no water. She'll be dead!”

“Ah, the kitten,” Brad mused. “Well, she's something of a legend already, from what I hear. She's rooming with Dr. Cortero.”

Her heart skipped beats. She gaped at him. “With Ramon?”

“The very same. Imagine that. I thought he hated animals.”

“So did I.”

“You'd never believe it, to hear him talk about that cat. He's bought it a collar and all sorts of toys and it sleeps with him.”

“You're right. I don't believe it. You're pulling my leg.”

“Ask him when he does rounds,” he returned wryly. “I dare you.”

Noreen took the information with a large grain of salt. Isadora had once told her that Ramon hated domestic animals and wouldn't want anything with fur and claws around him. She'd also said that Ramon didn't like children and had no intention of siring any. He liked parties and social gatherings and he was a neatness freak at home, Isadora had added carelessly.

He hadn't seemed that way to Noreen, but she didn't really know him. He'd made sure of that. The only person who ever managed to get close to him was Isadora. Since her death, he was completely alone. He didn't even date.

That didn't surprise Noreen, because she was well aware of his obsession for Isadora. All her life, the older girl had been the apple of everyone's eye. There was no love left over for Noreen at the Kensington home, because it all went to Isadora. That was still true, even though Isadora was long dead.

Miss Plimm had gone down to the cafeteria to get her supper. Noreen, momentarily alone, was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't hear Ramon come in.
He was bending over her with a stethoscope when she noticed him, and she jumped, startled.

“Don't do that,” he muttered impatiently, sliding the cold metal against her chest under the loose hospital gown. “Breathe normally.”

That was difficult, with his face so close. She kept her eyes shut, so that she wouldn't have to see that dark complexion, the thickness of his straight black hair, the liquid black of his eyes. She couldn't bear to look at him. It hurt too much.

He drew away, watching her eyes open. They didn't quite meet his.

“I'm doing fine,” she informed him.

“Yes, I know.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “How's your appetite?”

“I eat everything that's put before me.”

“No, you don't,” he replied. “You eat the Jell-O and soup and leave everything else. That can't continue. You have to have protein.”

“I have gas,” she replied with mild belligerence. “There's no room inside for food.”

“I'll write up something to take care of that.” He made a notation on the chart. “Eat, or I'll have to keep you on intravenous fluids.”

“All right,” she said heavily. She glanced up and away again. “How's my kitten?” she asked.

He smiled, his dark eyes twinkling. “She eats like two cats.”

She stared at his jacket. “Thank you for looking after her.”

“She's no trouble.”

“I can't believe that. I know you don't like animals.” Or me, she added silently.

He scowled. Perhaps she wasn't quite recovered from the confusion brought on by the anesthesia. He liked animals. He lived alone because he hadn't had enough time to devote to one, and an apartment was hardly suited to dogs and cats.

“How's the pain?” he asked.

“I'm doing fine,” she repeated.

He hesitated. She wouldn't look at him and she didn't seem inclined to talk. He picked up her hand to examine the shunts they'd inserted in her veins to connect to the fluids she was being given. He scowled.

“When were these shunts flushed last? Meredith always dates them so they don't remain in place longer than three days.”

“Meredith didn't do these,” she replied. “I think Annie did. I know they haven't been in longer than a day.”

He made a note on the chart to have them flushed. One seemed to be clogged. The shunts were implanted so that if there was an emergency, a nurse wouldn't have to scramble to find a vein for the needle. Keeping them free of clogs was essential to postsurgical heart patients. He picked up her other hand, noting the softness of it, the short, clean nails, the silky skin behind her knuckles.

“You must use hand cream constantly,” he remarked as his thumb smoothed over the back of her hand. “Your skin is incredibly soft.”

She pulled her hand back from his. She still wouldn't look at him. “They're working hands,” she replied, “not model's hands.”

“I know that, Noreen.”

He hardly ever called her by name if he could avoid
it. Didn't he know that he was torturing her? She closed her eyes, praying that he'd go away and leave her alone.

It was all too apparent that she was going to shut him out. She'd been hurt too much over the years to warm to him now. He scowled, because it bothered him that Noreen hated his touch. He remembered her at his first anniversary party, backing away from him in the kitchen. It had bothered him even then, even when he was married.

“I'll check on you later.”

“Thanks, but there's no need. Miss Plimm is very efficient.”

Her remoteness irritated him. “Would you rather I sent John on rounds?” he asked curtly, naming an associate in his surgical group.

“That…might be better, if you don't mind,” she said in a subdued tone.

His temper flared, hot and unreasonable. Without another word, he carried her chart back to its tray, slipped it in and left the ward.

Noreen sighed her relief. Just a few more days, she told herself, and she could get out of here. When she was recovered, she'd look for a job at a hospital in the suburbs, one where Ramon wasn't on staff. She owed him her life, but not her soul. She wasn't going to put herself through any more torment on his behalf. She recalled applying for a passport some months earlier, with some half-formed notion of sacrificing her nursing talent in some third-world nation to escape thoughts of Ramon. It seemed ridiculous in light of what had happened to her. At the time, it had seemed very rational.

She stared blankly out the window, wondering if her aunt and uncle were really out of town. Ramon had
probably been softening the blow. They'd never wanted Noreen in the first place. They'd only taken her in from a sense of responsibility, not out of love. She'd been an extra person in their lives, always on the outside of the family circle, always the fifth wheel. It had hurt when she was a little girl, but she'd grown accustomed to being excluded from family pastimes and assigned to endless domestic tasks. Since Isadora's death, they'd only invited her to the house once, and it had been far too uncomfortable for all of them to repeat. She didn't need to be told that they'd only invited her out of a sense of duty, to keep people who knew them from gossiping.

She sighed and closed her eyes. She was going to start her life over, she decided. She was going to stop pining for Ramon and regretting the indifference of her aunt and uncle and everyone blaming her for Isadora's death. She was going to get a new job, a new wardrobe, a new apartment and a new life. Now that she'd be healthy and whole again, she could plan on a future. She was going to live it to the fullest.

 

Ramon, unaware of her plotting, stormed into his apartment after work with a face like a thundercloud. He was furious that Noreen didn't want him to visit her, to oversee her care. He'd saved her life—didn't that matter to her?

He poured himself a drink and sat down heavily in his armchair, instantly joined by the kitten. It curled up against him and purred.

“At least you're glad to see me,” he murmured, stroking it absently.

He'd enjoyed the kitten's company. It made him think of all he'd missed in his life. He came home to an empty
apartment, to loneliness and grief and isolation. When Isadora had been alive, he came home to noise and laughter and a roomful of people, because she liked parties and gave them frequently. He never had peace or the luxury of silence in which to read the medical journals that Isadora despised.

He wondered now if she'd needed the companionship of other people to make up for the emptiness in her life with Ramon. Isadora hadn't liked animals and children. He could still hear her laughter when he'd suggested starting a family. Ruin her figure and be a slave to an infant, she'd exclaimed, what sane woman would give up her independence to be a little homemaker? As for animals, she wouldn't have cat hair on her elegant furniture, and dogs were just too much trouble. Like children.

He'd loved Isadora, so he'd given up his dreams of domesticity after that one conversation. But he saw his colleagues with their wives and children, heard them plan vacations at resorts that catered to families. He'd been envious, because he and Isadora had parties instead of a family. They grew apart after the first few months of their marriage and went their separate ways. And in the last few months before her death, Isadora had been drinking far too much. She cheated on him, made threats, impossible demands, accusations. She hadn't been happy. She'd promised to do herself in if he went off to France without her, depriving her of seeing her lover who was also going to be there.

He'd refused because of her health, not out of jealousy. But his reason hadn't mattered to Isadora. She'd raged at him that he was only a dog in the manger. It was Noreen he lusted after, she'd accused wildly, and
not for the first time. Well, Noreen would never want him, because she was afraid of men and especially him, she'd raged. She'd never explained, and he hadn't wondered about the statement. Until now.

He sipped his drink, recalling other incidents, other arguments, that belied the perfect marriage he and Isadora had shown to the world. She hated his work, his commitment to his patients, his absences in emergencies. Once, she'd hung up on a patient's hysterical wife, refusing to call Ramon to the telephone. The man had been in cardiac arrest, and fortunately, another doctor had come to his aid. That had happened a week before Ramon left for France. And Isadora had gone walking in the cold rain without a coat, with bronchitis.

He'd gone to France after having asked Noreen to stay with Isadora and look after her. Noreen had agreed gladly, giving up her free days to take care of her cousin.

Everyone had thought that Noreen let Isadora die. Now, Ramon felt he knew and could accept the truth. It had been a tragic round of circumstances, ending with Noreen's mild heart attack. And he and the Kensingtons hadn't even allowed her to defend herself. They'd blamed her, isolated her, punished her for something that wasn't her fault, for two long years. No wonder she withdrew from Ramon's touch, from his offers of help.

He groaned aloud. How could he have been so arrogantly judgmental? How could he have overlooked Noreen's compassion, branded her as a merciless killer? He was as guilty as she was. He was more guilty. He'd left Isadora behind out of necessity, because she couldn't safely fly in that condition. But only now did he admit that he hadn't wanted to take her with him.

His fairy-tale marriage had been going steadily downhill. He and Isadora had fought constantly at the last, especially on the day he'd left, and his conscience had beaten him over it, again and again. He'd wanted some time to himself. It was his absence as much as Noreen's that had led to Isadora's death, but he hadn't been able to admit his guilt or have anyone know that his blissful marriage was a sort of hell. And now it was too late to make any difference. Noreen wanted no part of him. She never had. She'd backed away from him constantly over the past six years, especially after his marriage to Isadora. How could he blame her?

If only there was still time to make it up to her, he thought sadly. He couldn't take back the past two years, but he could make her life a little easier. He had to talk to the Kensingtons. They had to be made to understand, too. Noreen had been done a great wrong. Now it was up to him to make it right. He hoped he could.

 

Noreen was able to walk around the unit three times the next day, with Brad lending her his support. She laughed at her own light-headedness, but she kept on, grinning at the nurses as she trundled along. Several of the patients were up walking today. All of them were steadily improving and looking healthier. The stimulation of walking kept the new valve working and helped clear her lungs and build her strength back up. She never doubted that she was going to be able to walk out of here within days. Her pleasure showed in her face.

At least, it did until Ramon came onto the ward and she saw him in her path. Her brilliant smile faded. Her eyes went lackluster and her gaze dropped abruptly to the floor. Her hand clung tight to Brad's long arm.

“Good,” Ramon said, ignoring her lack of animation. “Walking is just what you need to do, as often as you can manage. It will make your recovery easier.”

“This is our third time around,” Brad told him. “She's making progress.”

“Yes, so I see.”

“We need to move on,” she told Brad. “I get wobbly when I stand still.”

“Brad, you're needed in 310,” one of the nurses called. “Mr. Sharp says his medicine's running out on the breathing machine.”

Brad hated to desert her, and his expression reflected it. “I'll take her the rest of the way around,” Ramon said, moving to take Brad's place. “See to your patient.”