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Authors: Marie Ferrarella

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What the hell was happening to him, anyway?

“That—” He waved his hand impatiently at the title she'd just supplied, feeling like a man on the brink of insanity. “Why are you trying to carve a niche into my life?” He realized he was shouting.

If he'd meant to intimidate her, he'd failed. Nothing blunted the look of compassion in her eyes. And maybe that was the worst part of all. Compassion was synonymous with pity in his mind and he didn't want her pity, didn't want anyone's pity. He just wanted to continue as he had, separate from everyone.

“Because you look like you could use a friend, Peter,” she explained quietly. “You know that old saying, if you see someone without a smile, give him one of yours—”

“No, I don't know that old saying.” He bit the words off impatiently.

She only smiled. “Well, there is one, trust me. And if I ever saw someone who needed a smile, or a friend, I'd say it was you.”

Damn it, he didn't need a do-gooder. He needed to be left alone, to do the work he could and just go on, nothing more, nothing less. He glared at this woman who was burrowing a hole into his life. “And what's in it for you?”

Her answer came without any hesitation. “A friend, I hope.”

The simple statement ripped into him. “You're serious.” He stared at her.

“Sure. Why wouldn't I be?”

Was she for real? Didn't those parents of hers teach her anything while wandering around the country? Didn't their
deaths
teach her anything?

“Because people just don't act that way.”

Two small words completely negated the point he was trying to make. “I do.”

Peter shook the head that she was so completely messing with. He didn't understand her. But then, he supposed he didn't have to. All he had to do was to operate on her brother and then move on, the way he'd always done before. A few weeks from now, this would all be a blur in the past.

He opened the door and glanced at her. “Call my office tomorrow.”

Her eyes held his until he managed to pull them away. “I'd rather come by.”

He had to remain firm on this. Capitulating would only jeopardize his ability to focus. “And I'd rather you called.”

To his surprise, she let him get the last word in. At least, he didn't hear any coming from her as she closed the door behind him.

He felt oddly hollow again. But then, it was a familiar feeling.

 

He couldn't help but feel uptight, invaded. Unsettled.

It made no sense to him. Raven Songbird was, after all, just a slip of a thing. One lone woman in a sea of people who flowed in and out of his offices within the year. Why was she lingering on his mind like the lyrics of a song that refused to fade away?

He had no answer for that. All he did was continue to feel unwanted sensations all through the night. They accompanied him to the hospital the next morning, giving no indication of leaving anytime soon.

Supported by a minimum amount of sleep he was still trying to sort it all out when George Grissom walked into his office after one short, perfunctory knock. There was no greeting, no preamble as the six-foot-five hospital administrator entered, ducking
his head under the doorway. “I had no idea you were operating on the Songbird boy.”

Peter turned from his desk, surprised. Was his entire life on the Internet these days? “Until yesterday, I wasn't. I haven't even called to schedule yet. How did you find out?”

“Because Raven Songbird just called to say she was writing a sizable check to the hospital so that we could get another one of those full-body scanners, not to mention several other pieces of cutting-edge equipment we've had our eye on.” He looked at Peter with admiration. “She said it was because she was grateful that you've decided to operate on her brother.”

She was doing it so that he wouldn't suddenly decide to change his mind and back out, Peter thought. In effect, she had him surrounded, bringing in reinforcements in the guise of a very vocal, very dedicated hospital administrator. Grissom liked nothing better than receiving donations he hadn't had to break his back to get.

Peter took his hat off to her even as she annoyed him.

“I haven't checked to see when the next available slot is,” Peter informed him. It was just past eight. The scheduling office wouldn't be open for another half hour.

“Any time she wants,” George informed him. “I want her treated with kid gloves,” he emphasized.
“Her parents donated the entire cancer wing to the hospital. I'm glad to see that she's going to be carrying on in their memory. You're to do nothing to make her change her mind.”

Peter swung his chair around to face the administrator. He took offense at the implication he perceived. “What, like operate at a level that's other than my best?”

The scowl on the florid face told him that George was offended by the implication. “You know I didn't mean that, Peter. I was talking about your less than charming bedside manner.”

Peter blew out a breath. “You're too late. I've already tried it out on the woman. I'm sorry to say it had no effect on her. She continued to come on like gangbusters.”

George shook his head. “And my wife wonders why I'm gray.”

“You were born gray, George,” Peter quipped as the man left his office again.

He turned back around to his desk. At least George had a wife, he thought darkly.

Pulling back from the thought before it could drag him down to the tarry depths of depression, Peter began to go over his schedule.

Chapter Seven

I
t wasn't Peter's custom to stop by a patient's room just before surgery. As a rule, the last time he would see a patient before surgery would be on the day the arrangements were made and the surgery was scheduled. There would be a desk between them and antiseptic words to help preserve the distance he liked to maintain.

In all the time that he had been a surgeon, he'd never acquired that comforting manner of glad-handing someone, of standing next to their bedside and assuring them that everything would be all right. It wasn't within his power to give those kinds of guarantees. He would do the very best he could,
that was understood. It was a tacit given that he didn't feel he had to repeat.

However, there were things that went beyond his control, things that happened in a realm that defied rhyme, or reason, or the very best of precautions. Those “things” fell under the unnerving heading of Chance or Fate. Or whatever it was that explained the occurrence, to some degree, to the patient and/or to his or her family.

It wasn't up to him to dip into that. His function was to use the best of his skills, honed and perfected with each operation he'd performed, or assisted with, or watched. He used his skills to do the impossible, or at least, whatever he could to correct what was wrong. He was a body mechanic, pure and simple.

So he was more than a little surprised to discover that the steps he took from his hospital office did not lead him directly to the third-floor operating salon. Instead, they led him to the first floor, taking him past the reception area to the tiny rooms that were grouped under the all-encompassing title of “Pre-op.”

It was here, to these cheery-looking, sun-drenched rooms that patients were taken before their operations. They were asked to abandon their own clothing and to don breezy one-size-fits-all gowns that ultimately made them seem like an assembly line product. These products would be worked upon
for a measure of time, then set aside as the next assembly line item came down the conveyor belt. All in all, it was a rather dehumanizing process, but that was the way he liked it. He performed best at a distance.

He was operating on Blue today.

Less than a week had gone by since the boy had first popped his head into the office, asking him if he was God. Five days to be exact.

He felt as if it had been longer.

Normally he had no feelings one way or another about patients. What usually filled every part of him was a determination to do the best he could. To “fix” them, as Blue had put it.

This time, no matter how much he tried to pretend that there weren't, there were feelings. That was the boy's doing.

The boy's and his sister's.

Was he God? Blue's question echoed in his brain. He knew that he'd never felt as if he were God. Unlike some neurosurgeons who believed that they walked a little above all the other surgeons, he had never felt that way, never felt as if there was the slightest bit of deity within him.

He was the most ungodlike creature to have ever walked the earth.

But if there was any truth to the notion that neurosurgeons were the right hand of God, then he hoped it would be true today, for the length of time
that it took to complete Blue's operation. He freely, if silently, admitted that he would need help today. Because this surgery was going to be as delicate as they came.

The boy was small for his age. Peter knew without reviewing his records that he had never operated on anyone younger than eighteen before and even the most diminutive of his patients did not hold a candle to Blue.

Peter looked down at his hands. For the first time since his first year in surgery, he wondered if his fingers were skilled enough. If they were perhaps too large for the task.

That was what feeling got you, he thought in annoyance. Doubts. Doubts that could get in the way.

The door in front of him opened. A young, male lab technician emerged from the room. He was holding a tray in his hands that contained fresh samples of the boy's blood.

Thrown off, the technician, whose name tag proclaimed him to be Javier, did a little sidestep, trying to get out of his way but managing only to block his every move. Flashing a sheepish grin, the technician took one more large step to finally get out of his way.

“Sorry,” Javier mumbled into his chin as he hurried away.

Putting out his hand to keep the door from closing again, Peter grunted something in response.

The room only had one occupied bed. Grissom at work, Peter thought. In his desire to cull their continuing favor, George had seen to it that Blue was given a private pre-op room rather than having to share the space with five other people scheduled for surgery around the same time, the way normal procedure dictated.

Peter breathed a small sigh of relief. He didn't care for crowds.

Framed by the early morning sun that pressed itself through the window behind her, Raven stood by her brother's bed, holding Blue's hand in hers. She murmured something to the boy Peter couldn't quite make out. It took effort for him not to stare at her, transfixed.

Both Raven and Blue looked at him as he crossed the threshold. The door closed softly behind him, as if nothing on this side of the hospital could make a loud noise.

Raven seemed relieved to see him. She gestured toward him with her free hand. “And here he is now. See? I told you he'd stop by before you went in,” Raven said to her brother.

The woman knew more than he did, Peter thought.

Moving closer to the bed, he noticed that her face was just the slightest bit drawn, as if she were struggling to stay brave. For the most part, she was winning, but there was just a hint of turmoil evident
beneath the surface. Raven Songbird was deeply worried about her brother.

Nodding at Raven, Peter looked at the boy who sat propped up in the bed. Meant for adults, the bed succeeded in dwarfing him, making him appear even smaller than he was.

He addressed Blue the way he would any of his adult patients. He sensed the boy expected that. Welcomed that. “How are you doing?”

Blue sat up a little straighter. “Okay.” It was obvious that the boy tried very hard to put on as brave a front as his sister had.

“They just came to cross match his blood. Took a whole bunch of it from him and he didn't even cry, did you, Tiger?” Raven affectionately feathered her fingers through her brother's black hair. Every movement, every look, showed Peter how proud she was of the boy.

Blue merely moved his head from side to side. “I don't cry,” the boy told him solemnly.

Peter raised his eyes to look at Raven. “Ever?”

“No, he doesn't,” she said. At times, this worried her, but for the most part, Blue was a source of never-ending sunshine in her life and she felt blessed.

Peter could only shake his head in wonder. “My father would have loved having you.”

The personal revelation surprised her. And gave her just a sprinkling of hope. Some of the biggest
battles were won an inch at a time. The word “battles” linked up with another and she looked at Peter.

“Was your father a Marine?”

She hadn't even bothered with the nebulous term of “soldier.” He would have, presented with the same evidence.

Picking up Blue's chart, he quickly scanned it, then returned it to where it was hanging from the end of the bed. “How did you know?”

She shrugged. The neckline that was all too wide slipped from her shoulder. She pushed it back into place. “Lucky guess.”

He forced his eyes away from the creamy white expanse of her neck and shoulders. Looking into her eyes was no improvement. They were much too blue, made him drift and lose focus. He couldn't afford that right now.

Couldn't afford it at any time.

He turned his attention back to Blue and dispensed a little more information for the boy's benefit. “After this is over, you're going to have to lie on your stomach for about a week.” Most kids would probably balk at remaining immobilized that way, he thought.

Blue merely nodded his head. “I know.”

He sounded like someone four times his age, Peter thought. “How do you know?”

Blue's eyes shifted toward his sister. “Raven told me.”

Leaning against the raised side railing, Peter transferred his question. “All right, I'll bite, how did you know?”

“I've been doing a lot of reading up on the subject,” she told him. Optimistic though she might be, there was no way she was going to blindly allow anything to be done to her brother without first knowing every single ramification involved.

Peter nodded his approval.

Behind them, the door opened and a matronly looking nurse entered. “I've got to give him his medication,” she told Raven before flashing an encouraging smile at Blue. “It's going to help you fall asleep.”

Looking almost like a little old man, resigned to his fate, Blue put out his bare arm, waiting for the inevitable sting of a needle. The nurse laughed. She held out a little white cup. Inside was a tiny yellow pill. “No, this you swallow.”

Blue's face immediately brightened. “Good.” His eyes shifted toward his doctor. “I really hate shots,” he confided.

Peter merely nodded. “Not my favorite thing, either,” he allowed. He glanced at his watch. It was almost time. He had to get upstairs to prepare. “I'll see you in surgery.”

“Okay,” Blue called after him.

Raven caught up to him just before he went through the door. “Where's the chapel?” she asked, almost breathless. It was as if the impact of what was about to unfold was hitting her. He fought the urge to comfort her.

“It's just outside the Intensive Care Unit,” he told her.

“Appropriate,” he heard her murmur as she withdrew to join her brother.

Funny, all this time, he'd never thought of that before.

 

If she knotted her fingers together any tighter, she might never untangle them. Raven could feel her heart pounding inside her chest, threatening to break out. She didn't know how much more of this she could take.

The surgery was running longer than it should have. Much longer.

In trying to prepare for everything, she'd consulted three different medical books as to the procedure and the length of time that it would take. Given the nature and location of the tumors, the consensus was that the surgery should take approximately four hours.

More than five had passed.

She tried to tell herself not to worry, that Peter was just being careful. The surgery wasn't something to race through and she was sure he wouldn't
try to beat his best time. He was taking precautions, just like any good surgeon would. Wasn't that why she'd come to Sullivan in the first place? Because he was good? Because his reputation was excellent?

She could feel tears filling her eyes. It wasn't the first time. She blinked them away.

Concern continued to nag at her, growing larger and more unwieldy as each minute passed. She looked at the big clock on the wall at the end of the corridor. Each second dragged by.

It was taking too long.

The words echoed in her brain like some kind of a warning. A premonition of dire things to come.

She was making herself crazy.

What if something had gone wrong? What if Blue was paralyzed and Peter didn't know how to come out to tell her? No, he'd tell her. He'd do it the way they ripped off Band-Aids, in one swift movement.

What if they'd sent the tissues to be analyzed at the lab and had gotten back a result that pronounced the tumors to be malignant?

Her mind raced from one dark scenario to another, each one more terrifying than the last. She struggled vainly to get her thoughts back in balance.

Why weren't her parents here? She needed them here with her to make this bearable.

Her parents had always taught her to have a good outlook about everything, to see the positive side. But her parents were gone, taken from her just as
she was about to embark on her first real journey of consequence. Sending her entire life veering off in a completely different direction. One moment she was a young woman with a supportive family and the whole world open to her, the next she was an orphan. An orphan with a two-year-old to take care of.

Not only that, but she'd suddenly inherited her parents' company, something she was only familiar with in the most cursory of ways. Overnight over a thousand people were counting on her for their very livelihood. It had been a hell of a thing to be saddled with at twenty-two.

This was worse.

Waiting to find out what was going on in the operating room less than a hundred feet away was undoing her.

She had begun the vigil by going into the chapel to pray. That had lasted for a little less than an hour. Feeling as if she'd worn out her knees, she'd gone to the visitors' lounge to wait for news. But there were too many people there, talking, laughing, trying to distract one another. Being around them just made her edgy. She'd remained in the lounge as long as she could, then left.

Taking the elevator, she'd returned to the third floor, where Peter was holding her brother's fate in his hands. She followed the signs to the operating
room and for the past hour she'd been out here in the hall, standing or pacing—waiting.

Life around her moved in slow motion, as if it belonged to another universe that only marginally touched her own.

The hospital personnel who walked by looked at her curiously. One of the orderlies stopped to ask her if she was lost. She shook her head, demurring.

But she felt lost. Lost and alone.

This'll pass,
she promised herself silently. Raven only prayed she was right.

What if?
kept echoing in her brain.

As the sixth hour approached, she had lost track of the amount of deals she'd made with God. Deals that hinged on some kind of sacrifice on her part if only He'd let Blue come out of this surgery alive and well.

BOOK: The M.D.'s Surprise Family
10.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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