The Cowgirl's Little Secret. Silver James
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Oklahoma City, she’d planned to get out of the ER, but then University had offered her a big salary and a humongous sign-on bonus. She’d jumped at the opportunity to prove to her dad she could take care of herself. And CJ. It was bad enough her father had bought her a house and hired a nanny. He’d take over her entire life if she didn’t fight him every inch of the way. That was his modus operandi. The man was a type A personality and she was his only child, which made CJ his only grandson. To say J. Rand Davis was a little overprotective was like calling the Grand Canyon a ditch.
Midweek was a slow time for the ER. Usually. But this was Oklahoma. A late-season thunderstorm could blow up and wreak havoc. Or there could be a big wreck on one of the major interstates crisscrossing the Oklahoma City metroplex. Tinker Air Force Base and Will Rogers World Airport meant airplanes. Lots of them. They could... Not that she really wished ill on anyone, but when things were slow, she had way too much time to think.
Every time the front doors slithered open, she could see the monolithic Barron Tower arrowing up into the hot blue Oklahoma sky. Cord’s office was there. No. She would not think about him. That part of her life was over. She was better off without him.
The thought squeezed her chest as tight as Scarlett O’Hara’s corset. Jolie remembered to inhale when white dots sparkled in her vision. Thoughts of Cord always did this to her. Everyone told her to live her life. How sad was it she only wanted to live that life with him? Despite everything. Because of everything. But there was a zero percent chance of that happening. The imaginary corset cinched even tighter as guilt washed over her. He’d never forgive her for what she’d done.
Jolie rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder, and then stretched. Maybe she’d go wash the empty whiteboard. Again. Whirling the desk chair around, her legs collided with a smiling man. Dr. Perry, attending surgeon on duty and head of Trauma One. She squeaked, her heart pounding. “Dang! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
Absently rubbing his knee where she’d banged the chair into him, Dr. Perry chuckled. “I didn’t think I was. I’m headed to the cafeteria. Want me to bring you something back? You know what it’s like in the ER. We eat when we—” The doctor tilted his head as if listening to something she couldn’t hear.
Sirens. So much for a quiet afternoon. She did her best to hide her elation at being busy.
After a couple hours, things had settled back down. A med tech had his hip propped on Jolie’s desk and was teasing her while she sipped the mocha frappuccino he’d brought to bribe her to go out with him.
“Do you like kids?” She knew how to nip his interest in the bud.
“They’re cute in the petting zoo.”
Jolie rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about baby goats.”
“Neither am I.” His eyes twinkled, though he managed to keep a straight face. The theme song from Pirates of the Caribbean filled the air and he dug his cell phone out of his scrubs. With a wave and a wink, he disappeared around the corner.
Leaning back in her chair, Jolie exhaled. So far, they’d dealt with a suspect bitten by a police dog, a teenage girl who’d twisted her ankle during a fast-pitch softball game and a guy who’d tried to amputate his thumb with a chain saw. The cops had flirted with her, the softball player’s parents had been upset the girl might miss the rest of the tournament and Chain Saw Guy’s wife had yelled at him for being stupid. Jolie sort of had to agree with that assessment.
Just then, the statewide emergency network radio squawked. Dr. Perry appeared out of nowhere and snagged the microphone before she could. He acknowledged the call and put it on loudspeaker without missing a beat. Jolie took triage notes while he questioned the EMT on the other end.
An accident on a drilling rig. Three patients. The most critical would be arriving by the MedFlight helicopter currently being dispatched. Jolie activated a second chopper to bring in the second patient, a man who’d fallen twenty feet.
Trauma One looked like an anthill that had been kicked. Scurrying people appeared from nowhere, everyone intent on preparing the ER. Jolie kept track of the trauma clock—the indefinable golden hour providing the best odds for full recovery.
The electronic exit doors whooshed open and closed but she heard it—the whap-whap-whap of helicopter blades. The radio crackled. She breathed—and it seemed as if Trauma One breathed with her as the pilot’s voice ghosted from the speaker.
“MedFlight One to base.”
She cleared her throat before keying the microphone. “This is base. Go ahead, Med One.” Jolie wrote on the whiteboard as the flight nurse gave her the rundown on the patient’s life-threatening injuries while the chopper landed.
“Roger that, Med One.”
Medical personnel scrambled to the helipad, returning quickly with the first victim. As Jolie fell into step beside the gurney, she glanced over and saw the patient’s face. Then faltered and tripped. One of the interns bumped into her, but kept her from going down with a steadying hand under her elbow. She murmured apologies and trotted to catch up.
This wasn’t happening. That was not Cordell Barron on that gurney. Oh, God, it couldn’t be.
Instinct kept her making notes as her conscious brain froze. One word kept screaming through her mind. No. No, no, no, no, no turned into a litany. This was so wrong. Things weren’t supposed to end this way.
The flight nurse passed Cord’s driver’s license to her and Jolie accepted it with numb fingers. “Patient’s ID says his name is Cordell Barron. Thirty-three years old. Wonder if he’s one of the Barrons?”
Jolie nodded mutely. Oh, yeah. Cord was definitely one of them. Her fingers shook as she tried to type in information on the computer pad.
The gurney was wheeled into the trauma bay but she stopped at the edge of the curtain. She had to call his next of kin. It was her job. That would be his father. Cyrus Barron. The man who’d ruined her life. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t speak to that man for her life. Or Cord’s.
The steady beeping of the monitors switched to a sharp alarm. He was crashing. Jolie forgot everything but saving the life of the only man she’d ever loved. Reflexes honed by five years working trauma kicked in. She passed off the pad to another nurse, pulled on latex gloves and waded into the mix.
Thirty nerve-wracking minutes later, Dr. Perry and the trauma surgical team finally stabilized Cord and whisked him off to the operating room. Jolie watched the elevator doors close behind the gurney before she turned back to the ER bay where they’d worked so feverishly to save his life. Her knees wobbled, and she had to lean against the wall to stay upright. Her night wasn’t over yet. Cooper Tate was still being worked on by the orthopedic team, his compound fractures serious though not life threatening. He’d be following Cord into surgery shortly.
Trauma One looked as if a tornado had torn through it. Jolie went through the robotic motions of cleaning up and resetting the bay for the third patient coming in by ambulance from the well site. She should be back at the admitting desk filling out the paperwork on Cord and Cooper. Should be notifying their families. The clothes Cord had been wearing, along with his personal effects, had been shoved into a plastic bin for safekeeping. She tucked the tub under her arm and shuffled back to the intake desk as the janitorial staff moved in to mop and sanitize.
Sinking into her chair, Jolie felt as if she’d just run a marathon—her arms and legs were leaden, her brain still in shock. Shivering uncontrollably, she wrapped her arms across her chest and hung on, breathing deeply until the worst of the reaction passed. There wasn’t time to collapse. Not yet. She had to make notifications. No matter what. It was her job as admitting nurse. She couldn’t pass it off—no matter how much she wanted to do so. Bad enough she’d all but abandoned her post to work on Cord.
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