The Emergency Doctor's Chosen Wife

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he asked, more convinced than ever that there was more to Gina’s story than she was letting on. Bad marriage? Bad divorce, like him?

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped into it. “Are you OK?” Thomas asked, observing her closely. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and she hugged her arms around her middle.

“I spent quite a bit of time with Mr Jones, and I just need to get back to the ER. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot on my second day here.” Gina shoved her hands into her lab coat and fidgeted in the narrow space. He didn’t want to make her any more uncomfortable than she already was, but there was definitely something bothering her.

“That’s not a problem. It’s been quiet this morning.” He hesitated, then looked at her. “You seem a little on edge, though. Are you sure you’re OK?”

Gina gave him a surprised glance. “What makes you ask that?”

He shrugged. “I read people well.”

“And you’re reading something into me?” She’d only been here two days and already she was falling into the same trap she’d fallen into years ago. No way was that happening again.

Before she could respond, the doors to the elevator opened.

“Gina! Thomas!” Rhonda cried, and motioned for them to hurry. “Trauma coming through the door right now.”

Thomas and Gina raced behind Rhonda. Rhonda ushered the family members away and left just the medical team to work on the patient, a young male who appeared to be about sixteen years of age.

Gina hooked up the cardiac monitor and oxygen and started an IV in his blood-covered hand. Though he was unresponsive she talked to him anyway, telling him what she was doing.

“Who knows what happened?” Thomas asked.

“The mother is here, but she’s pretty upset,” the respiratory therapist said.

“Get her in here,” Thomas said, and placed his stethoscope over the patient’s chest. “We need as much information from her as possible.”

Gina picked up the phone and called the nurses’ station. “We need the mother—now.”

Seconds later Rhonda escorted a woman near hysterics into the trauma room.

“What happened to your son?” Thomas asked, not looking up as he continued to examine his patient.

“I don’t know! Someone dumped him in my driveway looking like this, and I brought him straight here.” She sobbed into her hands. “Is he awake?”

“Not yet,” Rhonda said. “They’re going to be working on him for a while yet.”

“This looks like a gang beating,” Gina said, and shot a glance at the mother. “I’ve seen this in other cities. From what you said last night,” she added to Thomas, “our little town can’t avoid it for ever.”

“My son is not in a gang,” the mother protested, glaring at Gina. “We don’t have gangs here. Hidden Valley is too small.”

“Richmond’s not that far away.” Gina knew it, she’d seen it, and hoped this mother would face her son’s problems quickly. Denial would only get her so far and then she’d have to face it or deal with the consequences down the line.

“No. It can’t be,” she cried, and shook her head. “He’s just a boy.”

“I’m sorry this is such a shock for you. But I just cut off his clothing and found this.” Gina exposed the markings on his deltoid for her to see herself.

The mother gasped and pointed a trembling finger at the tattoo clearly defined on her son’s arm. “I don’t know what that is, but it’s not a gang.”

“Has he been using any drugs that you’re aware of?” Gina spread the boy’s fingers apart, examining them for signs of drug use, but found nothing.

“No.” She shook her head and looked as if her world was about to fall apart. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Right now we need to focus on stabilizing him. We’ll work out the details later,” Thomas said. “Rhonda, why don’t you take her back to the waiting room?”

“I’ll come get you when you can see him, I promise,” Gina said, trying to offer the woman some support, though thinking of her son this way was obviously painful. “What’s his name?”

“Terrence,” the mother whispered. After touching his shoulder, she leaned heavily on Rhonda as they left the trauma room.

“Well, Terrence,” Thomas said to the unresponsive patient, “you’re in a world of trouble.” He turned to Gina. “Let’s get a CAT scan. I’m concerned that he hasn’t roused at all.” He checked Terrence’s pupils with a penlight, looking for a response.

“He’s had quite a wallop on the back of the head. He may be just concussed or he could have a brain injury,” Gina said.

“Absolutely,” Thomas replied. He liked the way she thought, processing the possibilities quickly. Obviously a nurse of some experience and ability to think through all the possible scenarios. Good qualities to have in an ER nurse in a small town. Someone who had been around and could snap into emergency mode when the need arose, but be content with the smaller issues of every ER, like the flu, cuts and broken arms. Nurses like that were hard to find. Thomas would have to review Gina’s temporary contract and see if he could get her to extend her stay. She’d only been there two days, but working with a nurse with her skills would only make his job easier.

Within the hour Gina handed the boy over to the OR team. Brain surgery was indicated for him immediately.

Gina returned to the trauma room to clean it. Traumas always created a lot of trash.

Thomas found her there, banging drawers, clanging things around and making a lot of noise. He stepped into the room. “What are you doing?” he asked, and looked around. The room looked worse than when the patient had been in there.

“Cleaning,” she said, and avoided looking at him. “This room is a disaster.” She gathered up the dressing materials that had landed on the floor. “You’re a very sloppy doctor, by the way.” She gave him a sidelong glance.

“What? I’m not.” He frowned at her assessment of his character.

“You are,” she said with a smile. “I can see you didn’t go to college on a basketball scholarship.”

“I didn’t, but—”

“You threw a lot of things on the floor and now I have to pick them up.” She reached for another handful of trash from the floor. “This is so gross. I think you should do it.”

He stepped closer, placing himself inches away from her. She was flirting with him! And he liked it. Hiding a grin, he waited for her to turn round. “I tried for the trash can and missed. That’s not sloppy. That’s just bad aim.”