Love on Call (17 page)

“You must have heard the news,” Dana said when she joined Mallory in the cafeteria.

“What news?”

“Dr. Clayton resigned this morning.”

“I know.” Mallory lifted her head as if the revelation meant nothing to her. “He's a fine doctor. Wherever he goes children will benefit from his care.”

“Mallory…!” Dana called in her I-know-there's-
more-to-this voice. “What happened in Texas? I thought you two were on the road to coupledom.”

Mallory looked at her closest friend. She knew she and Brad were the subject of gossip at the hospital, and today she didn't care. She decided to confide in her friend. “To tell you the truth, I thought so, too.”

“I hear the reason is he's found his mother, who's been missing for twenty years.”

“I understand about his mother. I'd feel the same way if I were in his situation.”

“Mallory, you could go with him.”

She stared straight at Dana. “First, he hasn't asked me, and second, I have three years of residency to finish here. I can't go.”

“If he asked you, would you go?”

Mallory hadn't considered that option. She didn't think it was open. If Brad had wanted to ask her he'd have done it last night, when he had her in his arms. Instead he'd gotten out of bed and put distance between them. Brad was a loner. He liked being alone. Like his other relationships, she was only a short interlude in his life.

“I don't think there's much chance of that happening.”

“I didn't ask you to lay odds, just tell me what you'd say.”

“I don't know.” Mallory truthfully didn't know. She had a family, too, even if it was only one sister. Texas was a long way from Philadelphia. Mallory had fought to get accepted at this hospital. It afforded her everything she wanted in her late-starting career. She
admitted she was comfortable here. She knew the lay of the land, the politics and personalities of the facility. She understood the rhythm of the city and its ebb and flow. She knew nothing about Texas, nothing about a family that gathered around so closely that it could be suffocating. But she'd never been afraid of challenges or adventures.

What bothered her most, she decided, was that Brad hadn't thought of her feelings, hadn't worried his decision would in any way affect her. She knew he was sensitive, but he reserved most of that sensitivity for his patients.

“There is a little good news to counter Brad's resignation.” Dana was speaking again.

“What is that?” Mallory couldn't imagine anything eclipsing Brad's announcement.

“One of the coma patients, Margaret Keller, woke up about three-thirty this morning. Several of the staff say they thought the ghost had visited her just before she woke.”

Tears came to Mallory's eyes and she smiled. At three-thirty this morning she'd been in Brad's arms. The world was being rocked for Mallory, but Margaret was returning to it. Maybe the balance had been off center and the two events evened it out.

 

“It's highly unusual for a resident to request a transfer without completing the rotation,” Dr. Janis Campbell said. She was in charge of the residents and their assignments. She'd called Mallory to her office as a result of her request for reassignment.

“I understand that,” Mallory said.

“Do you want to tell me why you are requesting this?”

Mallory kept the details sketchy, but told her that it was for personal reasons that involved Dr. Clayton.

While the administrator's expression didn't change, Mallory knew she had heard the rumors about the two of them. She reassigned Mallory to the coma wing.

“Dr. Carter from the coma wing has requested help. Would that be satisfactory with you?”

Mallory smiled. “I plan to go into neurology working with coma patients,” she volunteered. “That would be perfect.”

Mallory's heart was a little lighter when she left the office. She didn't have to see Brad every day until he left, and after he was gone, she wouldn't have to look across the floor and remember that he'd often stood there, glancing at her, caring for children who put their faith in him.

The drawback to the new assignment was the quiet nature of her duties. The work was demanding, but not in the same way. There wasn't the constant activity of seeing patients, talking to them, giving orders to nurses. Here, she had time to think, time to remember and dwell upon Brad's upcoming absence.

One night as she left the hospital and approached her car Brad stepped out of the shadows. “You're avoiding me.”

Fear caused her stomach to drop before she realized he wasn't a drug-crazed assailant there to do her harm.

“Brad, you scared me.”

“I'm sorry. I wanted to speak to you and you always seem to be busy or not around.”

“It is a hospital. We're open twenty-four hours a day.” She tried for lightness, but failed miserably.

Mallory pressed the button on her key ring and opened the door of her car.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Talk about what? Haven't you already said what you needed to say?”

“I want you to understand.”

“Oh, Brad, I do understand.” Mallory felt compassion for him. “I'm glad you found your mother. It was a fruitful search and you should be glad it ended this way. I lost both of my parents and I fully understand your need to be with yours. Do what you have to do.”

She got into her car and started the engine. Brad kept the door open, preventing her from driving away.

“Mallory, I'm sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. In your place I'd make the same decision. When are you leaving?” She didn't know why she asked. Closure maybe. A date after which she could be sure she didn't have to avoid him.

“Thanksgiving. I won't be returning after the holiday.”

“That's appropriate,” she whispered. “You have something extra special to be thankful for this year. And your family will be thrilled that you're back home. Good night, Brad.”

She wrenched the door closed and drove off. Tears blurred her vision and she wiped them away.

 

The wind was fierce, as it was late in the year for ballooning, but Mallory went up anyway. She needed space, freedom, control over the things that were happening in her life. The wind batted at the balloon and she had to use all her energy to control it. Keith had been there to help her blow it up and then pack it up again. The day hadn't been that satisfying. Mallory thought of Brad being in the air with her. The last time she'd been out had been with him. Despite the need to work with the wind to keep the balloon on course, she still had time to remember that lovely day.

It seemed he'd invaded every part of her life. Mallory had even looked for the cabin he'd pointed out when they were ballooning together. She'd found it and wondered if he was there, but discarded the thought and concentrated on repacking the balloon.

She stayed and had lunch with Keith. Substituting sparkling cider for champagne, they laughed and enjoyed the early afternoon. Mallory waved as Keith pulled out of the parking lot. She followed, but her cell phone went off before she'd turned onto the main road.

“Hello,” she said, seeing a number on the display panel that she didn't recognize.

“Mallory, it's Brad. I saw your balloon. I need your help.”

She heard a groan as if someone was in pain. “Brad, are you hurt?”

“No,” he said. “I'm at my cabin. Can you find it?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Bring your medical bag.”

Mallory instinctively knew something was wrong. She put the phone down and started for the cabin. She had only aerial directions to get to it, but there was only one road in and out that she had seen. She found it and turned left, heading back in the direction she had come. The river appeared on her left and she followed it until she came to a clearing. She immediately recognized Brad's car. A van sat next to it.

Grabbing her bag from the back seat of the truck, she rushed to the door. A woman she didn't know opened it. “Dr. Russell?” the stranger asked, her voice slightly breathless.

Mallory nodded.

“Come on in.”

“Where's Brad?” Mallory inquired. She was sure he was hurt. Why else would he ask her to bring her medical bag.

“He's in here.”

She followed the woman to a small room set up as a makeshift medical facility. It had little equipment. The examination table was an old kitchen table covered with a bedsheet, a piece of plastic and then a strip of polished white shelf paper. Brad stood near the wall, his hands raised as if he'd scrubbed for surgery. On the table was a little boy. A man stood over him, holding a bloody cloth against his leg.

Mallory's eyes shot from one to the other. “Him,” Brad said succinctly.

She went to the table, immediately examining the boy.

“What happened?” she asked, quickly determining that his injuries were more than she could handle. He needed to get to a hospital.

“There was an accident,” the woman said. “A fire on our boat. He tried to put it out and there was an explosion.”

“We need a hospital.” She glanced at Brad, and she saw that his hands had been burned. Second degree, she thought. He must be in excruciating pain.

“We've called for a medevac. It won't get here in time. He's bleeding too bad. You're going to have to help me stop it and keep him alive until they get here.”

Indecision gripped Mallory, but she gazed into Brad's eyes. “I'll try,” she said.

She glanced at the man and woman. “Are you the boys' parents? I'll need your consent to try to save his life.”

“You have it,” they said in unison.

“One other thing. I'm a resident doctor at Philadelphia General. I haven't finished my studies yet.”

“But I'll be here to instruct her.” Brad spoke up.

“Just save him,” the woman begged with tears in her voice.

“All right. Is he allergic to any drugs?”

“Not that we know of,” she answered.

As Mallory washed her hands and pulled on sur
gical gloves, she barked out orders. “You,” she said to the mother, “take those white cloths and wrap them snugly around Brad's hands. Be careful, his burns are second degree and he's in terrible pain. Even if he doesn't look it.”

The woman moved quickly to follow her instructions.

“What's the boy's name?”

“Chad. Chad Clarke.”

Mallory pulled a needle and a vial from her bag. “What's that for?” Brad asked.

“Pain,” she answered.

“You're going to need me alert.”

She put them away again, knowing that was true. She turned to the father. “I'll take over here. I need you to get on the phone and make sure that medevac knows this is critical.” She took a quick breath, then asked more softly, “Can you do that?” He nodded. “Do you know Chad's blood type?”

“Yes, O positive.”

“Good. Tell the medevac team we'll need two units.”

She shifted positions with him. After he left the room, Mallory removed the bloody cloth.

Brad came to her side after asking the mother to leave them and close the door. Reluctantly she did so. Then he whispered to Mallory what she should do. First she had to stop the bleeding. She had no blood to give the child to replace what he was losing.

Flying glass must have nicked an artery. She couldn't see for all the blood.

“Clamps are in the drawer.”

Mallory looked down and found a drawer. Brad moved to open it.

“No,” she said, worried about his hands.

“You're sterile,” he reminded her, and pulled the drawer open. Mallory picked up surgical scissors and cut the cloths away. She started a saline IV from the emergency kit she carried with her. Brad had a general anesthetic, which she administered to keep the child from awakening. Then, following Brad's instructions, she started.

“You've done this before.”

“The setting was different.”

“Don't focus on the setting. Think about the map.” He meant the area of the body she was working on. No other part existed unless it affected this part.

“How's his breathing?”

“Good. Go on.”

Mallory worked carefully, finding the nick. The boy was lucky. The artery hadn't been severed, but was cut deeply. She clamped it and closed it. Brad talked to her every step of the way. He kept his voice even, unhurried and without tension. She still felt tension in everything she did. Her hands felt awkward and large working on the small artery. But Brad kept repeating that she was doing fine, that the child was in good hands and she would pull him through.

When he finally said they were done and she could close, she heard the rotors of a helicopter. Mallory ignored them and concentrated on her task. The child's color concerned her. He was paler than he
should be. They had no monitors to give the boy's blood pressure readings, no anesthesiologist to keep track of the anesthetic. Mallory didn't like the conditions.

The medics arrived just as she finished.

She and Brad gave instructions to the flying doctors who would take the child to the closest hospital and continue treatment. One insisted on looking at Brad's hands and administered care to him. He refused to go to the hospital with them. The parents thanked them profusely, then got on board the helicopter.

Mallory sat down when all was finished. She needed to clean the room and dispose of the waste, but she was tired. Exhausted.

“You did fine, Mallory. If you hadn't been here that boy would have died.”

Mallory got up and headed for the other room.

“Where are you going?”

“To clean up. We can't leave the place like that. You can't do it, and I have to get back to Philadelphia tonight.”

“You could stay here.”

Mallory's heart practically jumped out of her chest, urging her to accept the invitation. But her brain was in control and it told her to protect herself. If she was going to get through this heartache she had to cut the cord at the source.