Heart Like Mine (12 page)

“What's wrong with that?”

Megan appraised her like she wasn't sure whether Delaney was kidding. Then she put up one finger.

“Reason number one: surgeons are scary.”

“Hey, my dad's a surgeon.”

Megan didn't answer—just raised an eyebrow.

“Fine.” Delaney rolled her eyes. “Surgeons are scary.”

“Especially to little kids, and little kids' parents. You go walking around that floor in surgeon garb, you're going to give heart attacks left and right when you walk in those rooms.”

Delaney took a deep breath. Megan was probably right. She tried to imagine what it would be like to sit in one of the depressing little rooms hoping for good news, and instead, see a surgeon walk through the door.

Yeah, it would be terrifying.

“Okay, I will lose the surgeon scrubs before I go back down there. Got it.”

Megan shook her head. “Don't you want to hear reason number two before you agree with me?”

“But I already capitulated.”

“Reason number two: Dr. Mackenzie.”

Delaney felt her eyebrows pull together. “I don't follow.”

Megan smiled. “Because you have only three days left to make an impression on the man, and I'm sorry, but those scrubs are
not
going to make the most of your assets. Are you
sure
you have to wear them?”

“Have you
met
Millie Swan? This is not a woman you argue with. She told me I need scrubs, and if she says
scrubs
, you say
yes, ma'am
. Plus, I don't have time to be concerned about my—assets. I'm pretty sure he's not paying attention, anyway.”

Except for the way his eyes kept catching on her lips … and the way his hand had seemed to linger on her shoulder earlier.

“Well, then, let's make sure he does.” Megan laughed. “Come on. I know where we can find some cute scrubs, but they close at nine.”

“I still have hours of work to do. I can't go shopping right now.”

Megan reached over the top of Delaney's monitor and clicked it off. “This will all be here in the morning. You're too fried to get anything done right now, anyway.”

Delaney started to argue, but Megan put up a hand and fixed her with a look she must have learned from her police officer mother.

“We're still in kill-him-with-kindness mode, right? Then let's be kind and give the man something to look at besides surgical scrubs.” Megan winked. “Maybe they have those dominatrix ones we saw at the costume shop that time.”

*   *   *

“Good morning.”

Delaney jumped as Dr. Mackenzie stepped out of the cafeteria Wednesday morning, looking just-showered delicious. She'd been replaying last night's dream sequence in her head—this one featuring the sexy doctor, some definitely-not-appropriate-for-pediatrics scrubs, and a hospital storage room—as she'd walked into the hospital, and now she shook her head, trying to clear the memory as he fell into step beside her. It was only six o'clock in the morning, and she'd come in early, hoping to put in a few hours of work before she headed to the third floor. Apparently he was one step ahead of her.

“I like the outfit.” His eyes scanned down her body as he met her pace. “Does this mean you've decided to join us again today?”

“Actually, it's scrubs day in the executive suite. We do it once a month.”

He laughed. “Well, if you're in baby sheep, I'd love to see what Gregory shows up in.”

They reached the elevator bank, and she pushed the Up button with her elbow. “I'm sworn to secrecy on that one.”

“My lips are sealed.” He held out a coffee, and for the first time, she realized he had two. “I guessed cream, no sugar. Am I right?”

“You are, actually.” She reached out tentatively for the cup, wishing she didn't hope their fingers would brush when she did so. “How'd you guess?”

“Research.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Have you been quizzing my assistant?”

Just then the elevator doors opened, and he motioned for her to step in before him. “I would never resort to underhanded tactics like that.”

As the doors swished closed, she studied him. She knew he'd probably worked later than she had last night, but here it was, six o'clock in the morning, and he looked as chipper and ready for the day as if he'd had a full twelve hours of sleep.

“How'd you know I'd be here this early?”

“I didn't, actually. I was headed up to bribe Marco into leaving this on your desk as a peace offering.”

“Peace offering? For what?”

Josh cringed. “For insisting that we throw you right in yesterday. Obviously, I had no idea that was going to happen with Ian.”

“I know.”

“I feel awful about it. When I wanted you to get a real feel for the floor, that wasn't exactly what I meant.”

Delaney watched the elevator numbers slide by the third floor without stopping, trying to block out the images of yesterday's scene. What had happened with Ian hadn't been Dr. Mackenzie's fault, and though she was sure emergencies brought things to a screaming halt all the time, he'd certainly had no way to predict one would occur while
she
was there.

“You don't need to apologize. Emergencies—happen.” She shrugged, trying to look casual, even though she was anything but. It had taken her almost an hour to convince herself into the scrubs this morning. “If it matters, I was impressed with how your team handled it. I couldn't believe how quickly they stabilized him and had him off to—wherever he went.”

He nodded. “Best of the best. Millie doesn't tolerate anything less.”

The elevator doors opened, and Delaney paused before she stepped out. “How will she feel about me being on the floor again today? After what happened yesterday?”

“Pretty sure she's planning to give you the Pediatrics Orientation 102 we should have done two days ago. Apparently my version didn't cover things like patients trying to bleed out on your watch.”

“No. It really didn't. Orientation's probably a good idea.”

He held the elevator door open as she brushed past him into the carpeted hallway of the executive suite, and she half wished he would follow her, but he stayed inside the elevator.

“Listen, Delaney.” His eyes met hers, and she wished again that they weren't colleagues on opposing sides of a funding crevasse. “I know yesterday was a really freaky scene, and I know you're putting a brave face on it. If you don't want to come back down there today, it's okay. I can try to find some time to meet with you later tonight, or maybe in the morning.”

“I appreciate that.” She took a deep breath. “And believe me, I considered putting a suit and heels on this morning and parking my butt in my own cushy office for the day. But as much as that whole situation did—freak me out a little, I think it's also good that I saw it. You wanted me to get a feel for life on the floor, and, well, that's life on the floor, right?”

He nodded. “Unfortunately.”

“I may keep my distance from blood going forward, though. Just saying.”

“I think that's a good idea.” He smiled. “Ian's doing all right this morning. I'm sure he'd love to see you.”

Delaney swallowed. She wasn't sure she'd be able to step into his room without yesterday's events assaulting her.

“Up to you, of course. I thought I'd have you shadow Kenderly today. I have a feeling you'll like what she does.”

“No blood?”

“No blood.” He winked, finally letting the elevator doors close. “See you in a few hours, Delaney. If we survive the day intact, let's see if we can tackle your list later.”

At nine o'clock sharp, Delaney took a deep breath and stepped out of the elevator again, this time on the third floor. She saw Millie standing at the nurses' station, her back to the elevators, so she pasted on her best confident smile and pushed her shoulders back, eager to appear like yesterday had been just a small blip in her existence, rather than a traumatic, memory-inducing panic attack in the making.

Therese saw her first, and Delaney knew she wasn't imagining the surprise in the tiny woman's eyes.

“Good morning, Delaney. You're back.”

Millie turned and lifted her eyebrows. “You go shopping?”

“Nurse's orders, right?”

“Good.” Millie nodded briskly. “Shame to throw away perfectly good clothes. Sorry you got a quick lesson in why nurses wear scrubs.”

“Thank you. It's okay. I'm—good.”

Millie motioned her toward the break room. “Come with me. I own you for the first hour—doctor's orders.”

An hour later, Delaney'd had the fire-hose version of pediatric emergency training. Millie had gone over what to do in the event of a bleed, a sugar crash, and a choking situation, as well as how to perform CPR. Despite the training, Delaney actually felt more scared now than she'd been when she'd walked onto the floor. Good Lord, look at all that could go wrong! Millie'd only skated over the surface of possible emergencies, and had ended every single lesson with
Remember, you only do this if you've called for help and they're not there yet
.

“Okay, quiz time.” Millie pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Delaney.

She took it gingerly. “What if I don't pass?”

“You take it again. And if you don't pass it that time, you take it
again
. We can do it all day.”

Did she hear a smile behind Millie's steely voice?

Delaney fished a pen out of her pocket. She had to hand it to scrubs designers—the pockets were like magical, endless caverns. She could probably fit her lunch in one if she tried.

“Okay, I'm ready.” She poised her pen above the paper.

“Number one. What's the first thing you do for a sugar crash?”

Delaney knew that one. She scribbled quickly, then put a number two on her paper.

“Next question—what's the first step in CPR?”

Delaney looked at the ceiling, trying to think. It had changed since she'd originally been trained. She wrote down her answer, then looked up at Millie.

Millie leaned over to scan her paper, then shook her head.

“It's gonna be a long day here.”

Delaney looked down, mystified. She knew the answers were correct. She'd paid damn good attention to every word that had come out of Millie's mouth for the past hour. No way did she ever want to get caught like yesterday, having no clue what to do for a poor kid who was having a serious emergency.

“What do you mean? These aren't correct?”

Millie shook her head again. “No. They're not.” Then she braced her arms on the table, looking right into Delaney's eyes. “What is
the
first step in
any
emergency down here when you are not a medically trained professional?”

“Oh. God.” Delaney felt her cheeks go red. “Call for help.”

“Yes.”

“I'm so sorry. I thought that part was understood.” She pointed vaguely at her paper. “These are the first steps that come
after
the—first step.”

“Mm hm. Flip your paper over. Let's start again.”

Delaney blew out a breath. It
was
going to be a long day.

*   *   *

Late that morning, Delaney sat in Kenderly's tiny office, getting a thirty-thousand-foot overview of what a child life specialist did all day. The more Kenderly talked about how her job was to support the patients and families, ease fear, and come up with creative ways to teach patients and their parents about their own conditions, the more intrigued Delaney became.

She cringed internally, picturing the two child life positions sitting squarely on her targeted layoff list. In all the research she'd done so far, she'd certainly seen the value of the role. It was just that, compared to the other medical professionals on staff, she'd had an easier time calling these positions “nice to have,” rather than “need to have.”

“No matter what—and no matter who asks you to do otherwise—you
never
take part in anything that could cause pain. You never hold anybody down, never help a nurse or doctor do something scary, never be part of pain. You are the safe person—the one that kids know
isn't
going to ever hurt them.”

“That sounds fantastic, to be honest.”

“It is. It's a great career for people who want to be involved with medicine—but don't
really
want to be involved with medicine, if you know what I mean.”

Delaney sighed quietly. “Believe me, I do.”

Maybe it was a career
she
should have explored after she'd finished fleeing medical school.

She pulled out her notepad, flipping to the page where she'd jotted down her questions for Kenderly. She needed to tread carefully with her queries so she didn't give away the fact that in her mind, she'd practically already decided this job was ancillary and optional.

She leaned forward. “So what's a typical day like for you?”

Kenderly looked at her, a half smile on her face. “There's no such thing.” She shuffled a couple of pieces of paper on her desk. “Looks like we've got a spinal tap this afternoon, some CF education with Charlotte, and some diabetes training with Milo's parents. That's my Top Three list. The rest of the hours will fill in as needs arise, but today there'll be two of us, so there's a chance we can meet maybe one-quarter of the needs.”

“Really? You feel like we're understaffed in this area?”

Kenderly's eyebrows went up. “We have a thirty-bed floor. We have one child life specialist on days and one on evenings. None at night. That's it. We are
bleakly
understaffed, though I know that's not what you're hoping to hear.”