Single Dad, Nurse Bride. Lynne Marshall
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relaxed and studied a wall filled with pictures of the woman’s young grandchildren and thought how one day she wanted to have several children of her own.
“Thanks. I’m not sure he likes new nurses, and that mix-up didn’t help matters.”
“Yes, well, he does like things just so.” She rolled her eyes. “In a perfect world…maybe…”
Rikki handed the incident report across the computer. As she’d listed Dr. Dane Hendricks as first to notice the error, he’d have to sign it. She hoped Janetta would take it to him so she wouldn’t have to face him again.
She had her hands full with a fresh hip replacement. Not to mention teaching Mr. Porter and his family how to care for his amputation stump in order to get him fitted for a prosthesis. Then across the hall she had the lady in traction with a fractured pelvis—a very demanding patient who was constantly on the call light. Thank goodness her roommate was more reasonable to deal with. Though that patient’s compound fracture of the femur with metal rod placement looked much worse. It resembled Frankenstein’s head, with hardware and screws protruding from the flesh, but suspended with traction in a lamb’s-wool-lined canvas sling. Not a pretty sight.
The only thing she had to look forward to today was the first-of-the month party in the nursing lounge where they celebrated for anyone who had a birthday. November was her month, and on Saturday she’d turn twenty-six. Being raised in the foster-care system, special days like birthdays sometimes got overlooked. Today at work it was a given, her name was on the cake. For some dumb reason it made her happy.
Janetta read the incident report thoroughly and nodded her head in approval. “I’ll pass this information on to Dane and counsel Rita.”
“Thank you. Dr. Hendricks is the last person I want to see again today.”
“He’s actually a very nice man. He’s been through a lot the last few years.”
“Oh.” That had never occurred to her. Hadn’t she cornered the market on challenges?
“How are things going with your foster-kid?”
“Brenden is doing great. Thanks for asking. How about you? Have you signed on to replace that empty nest you’re sitting on?”
“Actually, I’ve attended all of the training classes. They assessed my home, made sure I had appropriate space and childcare arrangements, and issued me a license. So I’m good.”
“Great. I’ll see you in the childcare center soon, then.”
“Right. Hey, wasn’t it you who transferred here because of our family care center?” Janetta asked, while she nonchalantly signed the paperwork.
Rikki nodded. “Yes. That and the fact Mercy pays better, so I could afford my two-bedroom apartment and still have two dimes to rub together at the end of the month. And the childcare center has been a godsend with Brenden.”
“We’ve always been progressive here, so we finally had to listen to our working mothers.”
“Absolutely.”
“I only wish they’d had it when I was raising my kids.”
“Yeah, but someone had to be the trailblazers.”
Janetta laughed. Her smile brightened her eyes. “And I’ll finally get to take advantage of it when I start foster-parenting.”
“See? There is justice in the world.”
Janetta’s face grew solemn. Her gaze drifted somewhere deep within as if remembering something special. “Since Jackson died, I just feel like I need to give more back to the community.” She forced another smile. “You seem to do a lot of that.”
“Nah. But every little bit helps.”
“And I commend you for volunteering.”
“What goes around comes around. You know?”
“Karma?”
“More like the golden rule—do unto others…”
“Whatever your reasons, I’m impressed. Now, get back to work,” Janetta said with a kind smile and a swish of her hand. “And don’t forget to have some cake, girl!”
Dane knew what he had to do. He stripped off his specially made prescription OR goggles and placed them in the sterilization bin. He removed his blue paper cap, mask, and gown, and disposed of them.
An apology was in order.
He scrubbed his hands and threw some water on his face. After standing for three hours during surgery, he needed to shake out his legs. The nursing supervisor, Janetta Gleason, had explained the circumstances of his patient’s medication error, and he’d realized he’d accused the wrong nurse.
Emma had had another upset tummy last night, and he’d spent two hours pacing with her in his arms. He knew the girls missed their mother, yet they never talked about her. Instead, they’d take turns with odd little ailments or aches that only a good long hug could cure. Unfortunately for him, too often it was in the middle of the night before his scheduled surgery days.
He loved holding their little sparrow-like bodies—so fragile and innocent. They were the best things to have ever happened to him, and since their birth four years ago, medicine had run a distant second on the priority scale.
He shook his head. Normally, he’d check out his data before leveling a full-on attack at a colleague, but he’d been tired and irritable, and then, damn, he’d found the wrong patient’s medicine on his other patient’s IV. Was it too much to ask for proper patient care? He’d jumped to conclusions and blasted the wrong nurse as a result. Well, he couldn’t let his mistake lie. He slipped on a white coat over his scrubs.
Rikki. Yeah, that was her name.
He and the enchanting little nurse had made eye contact on several occasions on the hospital ward. She’d always offered a friendly though shy smile. He liked her huge brown eyes and glossy, butterscotch-colored hair. Not that he’d spent a lot of time noticing or anything, but she had an enticing piercing—a tiny diamond chip or crystal or something that looked like a sparkly, sexy mole just above her lip. At first he’d thought it was a fake stick-on thing, but over time he’d realized it was always in the same place.
It made him wonder what it would be like to kiss her. Would he feel it if he pressed his lips to her soft, sexy mouth? What was that about? He’d been too busy to ask anyone out on a date for months, let alone make out. Why think about it now?
He threw more water on his face and headed out the door. I’ve been working too damn much.
As soon as he wrote the post-op orders and notified the surgical patient’s family that the knee replacement had been a success, he’d go back to the fourth floor and seek Rikki out. He owed it her to make things right.
Dane glanced at his watch. Too late. She’d already be off duty and he needed to pick up his daughters from child-care and take them for dinner at Grandma’s. His apology would have to wait until tomorrow.
Rikki rushed into the blood donor center at Mercy Hospital. She’d promised to donate platelets tonight, a two-hour process, and the lab closed at 7:30 p.m. The teenager from next door, who she occasionally used as a babysitter, had arrived late.
She’d been hydrating herself and taking extra calcium and iron for the last week. She’d avoided analgesics that thinned the blood as a side effect. She knew the hospital’s oncology department was always in need of the blood component that played an important role in blood coagulation. Without platelets, many patients wouldn’t be able to survive chemotherapy or emergency surgeries.
She’d donated platelets during the first week of her employment when she had been going through orientation and they’d mentioned there was always a shortage in pediatric oncology. Having waited the required fifty-six days, she was ready to donate again, deciding to make it a routine.
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