Chapter 2

Holly

“Dr. Reynolds… there’s an open femur fracture coming in on Bay One. Multi-car accident with other victims coming behind. Dr. Falter asked if you could triage that, but he’ll handle the surgery since you’re getting off duty.”

Glancing at my watch, I take quick note that I was supposed to have finished my night shift forty minutes ago. Yet here I still am, at nine AM, slogging through cases at Tulane Medical Center.

“Sure,” I mumble as I start heading toward the ambulance bay.

“Oh, and Dr. Reynolds?” the nurse calls again. I turn to face her and try to put a cheery look on my face.

“Don’t forget about the suspected metacarpal fracture in Room Two. It’s a pediatrics case,” she says with a stern look as she hands the chart over to me.

“Shit,” I mutter as I take the file. I had completely forgotten, having got wrapped up in a stabilizing a fractured C5 on a drunk driver who decided to take on a telephone pole. Glancing through the chart, I hand it back to her. “Let’s go ahead and send him down to x-ray and get a two-view lateral and oblique, but first start an IV and give him two mgs of morphine for pain relief. I’ll be in as soon as I examine the femur fracture coming in.”

For the next thirty minutes, I work to examine the man brought in with the broken leg. Of course, he was high on some type of drugs and combative. All of my tender ministrations only earned me his fist to the side of my temple while I was trying to probe the wound. More of my precious time was wasted as I waited for security to put him in restraints so I could finish my exam. It was with much joy that I handed him off to Dr. Falter.

Before I’m able to turn my attention to the little boy in ER Room Two, I make a quick stop in the bathroom because I’m pretty sure it has been going on five hours since I’d last peed. After my bladder sighs with relief, I wash my hands and give a disgusted look at myself in the mirror as I dry my hands. My face is pale with blue shadows under my eyes… testament to the fact I haven’t slept in going on twenty-seven hours. My blond hair is falling out of the loose braid that hangs down my back, so I give it a quick swipe of my fingers to tuck the loose ends behind my ear, and then I quickly exit the bathroom.

Just as the swinging door closes behind me, my phone rings. Slipping it from my white lab coat, I suppress a grimace before answering.

“Mother… I’m on my way in to see a patient. I don’t have a lot of time to talk,” I say quietly as I navigate the halls.

“You know I don’t call you unless it’s important, Holly.” She sighs dramatically, causing me to pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the beginnings of a stress headache.

Because just like that, my mother can make a crappy day supremely crappier.

“Your father has been selected as the Franklin R. Murray award winner this year,” she says proudly.

“That’s wonderful,” I say flatly, because I stopped caring about my father’s medical accomplishments years ago. The man went from being my hero and inspiration to become a doctor to being nothing but a big, fat disappointment to me.

She ignores my lack of enthusiasm and continues. “We’d like you to attend the award dinner. It’s next month on the twenty-sixth.”

I reach ER Room Two, which is nothing more than a curtained-off section of the emergency room treatment bay. I can see two large shadows moving behind the curtain and the raised voice of one very irate male, who isn’t speaking loudly but is very clearly pissed.

“This is ridiculous that we’re still waiting to see the doctor. My son is fucking five years old, and he’s scared,” I hear the man say.

I hear the soothing voice of Amy, one of our more seasoned nurses, in there. “She’s on her way, Mr. Davis. And I promise Sam isn’t in any pain.”

“I know that,” he retorts. “He’s just scared and tired. We need to get this taken care of so I can take him home.”

Turning my attention back to my phone call, I quickly tell my mother, “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to make it. Give my congratulations to Father. I have to go now.”

Before my mother can even take in an indignant breath, I disconnect the call and slip my phone back in my pocket.

I push back the curtain to enter Room Two just as I hear Mr. Davis say, “I want a doctor in here immediately, or I want to see the hospital administrator.”

Glancing down to grab the medical chart clipped to the end of the bed, and in my most professional yet conciliatory voice, I say, “I’m truly sorry for your wait, Mr. Davis.”

I paste a warm smile on my face and look up to meet the gaze of the irate father.

And my world pitches, rolls, and then tilts precariously on its axis.

Standing before me is a ghost from the past.

A beautiful ghost standing just over six feet with skin the color of mocha and eyes so light brown they might as well be orbs of amber.

“Tim?” I say hesitantly, almost not believing that he’s standing right there in front of me. The last time I saw him was ten years ago when my father broke my heart and I, in turn, broke Tim’s.

He’s still the same, yet different. He now has a thin mustache and goatee surrounding those beautiful lips and the strong chin I remember so well. His eyes carry a wisdom within them that makes me wonder what he’s been through over the last decade.

Rustling from the bed catches my attention, and I quickly realize that my young patient is Tim’s son. A quick breath in and I collect myself. Putting on a truly warm and genuine smile, I walk to the side of the bed and pat the little boy laying there on the leg.

“Hey… you must be Sam?” I ask him gently, and he nods almost shyly.

His eyes are wide and fearful. They aren’t Tim’s eyes though. Much lighter… a hazel with flecks of green, and I wonder if Sam’s mother is white. The rest of his face is Tim’s though… through and through, and this kid is going to be gorgeous when he grows up.

“How are you feeling?” I ask him softly. “Any pain?”

“No.” He’s so quiet I can barely hear him.

“That’s good,” I say with a smile. “My name is Holly. I’m the doctor that’s going to take care of you today and I promise, I’m going to make you feel all better. Okay?”

He nods… this time with a tiny smile, which I return.

Turning away from Sam, I shoot a quick glance at Tim. He’s not said a word yet to me and by the look on his face, I’m not sure he really wants to talk to me. This I can understand as I’ve often thought over the years what we would actually say to each other if this moment ever occurred, and I always came up flat empty as well.

I walk over to a rolling cart that houses a computer terminal and with a few keystrokes, I have his x-ray results pulled up. It only takes me a nanosecond to see the problem.

Looking over my shoulder at Tim, I motion toward the digital films. “He’s got a small fracture in his first metatarsal.”

Tim takes a few steps and comes to stand beside me. I point to the fracture. “Right there. Good news is that it’s non-displaced and it’s an easy fix. Just a good splint and plenty of resting it for the next three weeks.”

Tim nods, lets out a grateful breath, and then murmurs, “That’s good.”

Turning away from me, he walks over to Sam’s bedside and places his large hand on top of the boy’s head. “Doesn’t look too bad, buddy. Holly is going to put a splint on it and you’re going to have to be careful for a while, but it should heal up fine.”

“In time for baseball season?” Sam asks hesitantly.

“Definitely,” Tim says with a smile, and then leans over to kiss Sam on the forehead. The move is a simple showing of affection from a parent to a child, but for some reason… watching Tim… the man he has become hits a deep chord within me.

Clearing my throat, I turn to the sink beside the computer terminal and wash my hands again. “I’m going to do a quick examination. I don’t expect I’ll find anything else to change my diagnosis, and then we’ll get you all bandaged up so you can get home.”

Amy pulls the splint and wrap out of a supply cabinet and lays the materials on a metal cart beside the bed. I step up to the side that Tim is standing on, and he quickly moves back to give me room. I shoot him a small smile and don’t get one in return, his eyes darting away quickly to rest on Sam.

“Sam… I’m going to look at your hand. It might hurt a little but don’t be afraid to tell me when it does. I want to make sure nothing else is damaged that I can’t see on the x-rays, okay?”

I get a brave nod in return and spend the next several minutes examining Sam’s hand. Tim tells me that he fell while playing outside with a dog, so I go ahead and do a quick range-of-motion exam on his wrist, elbow, and shoulder. When Sam assures me that nothing else hurts, I take a few moments and splint his hand up, explaining to Tim how to apply the wrap around for a secure but not too tight fit.

“All done,” I tell Sam with a quick squeeze to his shoulder. “You’ll be as good as new in a few weeks.”

Turning to Amy, I tell her, “Go ahead and remove the IV and get the discharge paperwork done.”

“Yes, Dr. Reynolds,” she says briskly.

I turn back to Sam. “It was good meeting you, Sam. Take care of yourself.”

Then I turn to Tim, and I’m met with that same impassive look he has been wearing since I walked past the curtain into the room. Disappointment fills me as I realize that Tim truly doesn’t want to talk to me… at least, not outside of my medical expertise.

I take in a breath, square my shoulders, and give a polite smile to him. “Well… it was good seeing you again. Take care.”

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t move a facial muscle in response. Just stares at me with those amber eyes until I turn away and walk toward the curtain to, once again, leave Tim behind.