smiled, but it really wasn’t funny.
“See you in a few minutes.”
When she left, Meg looked down at her patient. “How’s the nausea, Mrs. Pope?”
“It’s not too bad yet.”
“Let me know if it gets worse and I’ll tell Dr. Tingey. We can give you something for it.”
“I’m allergic to a lot of things.”
“I can see that on your chart. Don’t worry. I hate a bad reaction as much as anyone. I promise we’ll do everything in our power to make sure you don’t suffer any additional discomfort.”
A few years ago, after the operation to remove Meg’s ovaries, she’d become deathly ill on her first injection of a normal painkiller for that kind of surgery. Since then she’d learned great respect for her patients’ fears in that department.
After drawing the curtain for privacy, she walked over to the desk where their intense new resident, Dr. Parker, was writing a prescription for an outgoing patient who’d come in with a broken arm.
She waited until he was finished.
“Yes, Meg?”
“Do you know where Dr. Tingey is?” Meg knew it was wrong of her, but there were some cases where she would rather deal with the seasoned, mellow head of the ER.
“Over in X-ray for the moment. What do you need?”
“This is a list of drugs Mrs. Pope is allergic to. She’s nauseated and I’m afraid it’s going to get worse. I thought we should be prepared.”
He studied it for a minute. “I’ll go in and talk to her.”
Somehow Meg knew he would say that. One of the new breed of doctors, he always questioned everything the patients said, as if their input wasn’t credible. She wondered if he treated his wife the same way, then chastised herself for being unprofessional.
Dr. Tingey was so different, Meg was spoiled. She not only had the greatest respect for his medical expertise, she loved him for his wonderful bedside manner with the patients who adored him.
On more than one occasion she’d heard him say he’d seen everything in his forty years of practice. In that amount of time he’d learned to listen, and truly cared about people. Those qualities alone made him the greatest doctor around as far as she was concerned. Dr. Parker would do well to emulate him.
A slight draft in the room brought Meg’s head in the direction of the double doors leading to the entrance of the ER. She assumed it was Julie returning from the convenience store.
Instead her gaze fell on a tall, lean male in his mid-thirties rushing toward her in a snow-covered cowboy hat, jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, but no winter coat. He was clutching something wrapped in his arms.
“Quick! Help me! The baby was left out in the blizzard to die!” The man sounded absolutely frantic.
The word “baby” galvanized her into action. “Come with me.” She hurried down to a room marked Infant ICU. “Right in here. Lay the baby on this counter.”
While he did her bidding, she switched on the warmer of the specially equipped cribs to treat hypothermia, then undid the rust-colored jacket covering the baby. A tiny head with a dusting of dark hair appeared.
It was a newborn boy! Meg’s professional eye looked him over. The umbilical cord still needed trimming.
His naked, shivering body had been wrapped in a thin, blood-stained cotton receiving blanket. He had an unhealthy pallor. She felt for a pulse. It was alarmingly weak, as were its infant cries. When she pressed on the skin of his upper arm, she noted decreased capillary refill.
Who could have done such a thing to a human being, her heart cried in fury.
Swallowing her sobs she whispered, “You precious little darling. Let’s get you warmed up.”
With the utmost care she lifted him from the counter and placed him unclothed on his back inside the crib. The quiver of his baby chin exaggerated his total helplessness, wringing another inner convulsion from Meg.
“I’ll get the doctor,” she murmured to the rugged stranger who hovered anxiously nearby. With one covert glance she read pain in his expression as he stared at the miniscule lump of humanity struggling for life.
To her relief, Dr. Tingey had returned from X-ray. As soon as she told him the situation, he followed her to the room where she’d put the baby.
After nodding to the man standing next to the crib, he proceeded to examine the infant.
“This little tyke isn’t more than a couple of hours old. Where did you find him?”
“On the train track,” came the thick-toned response. Meg moaned at the same time Dr. Tingey grimaced. “I was doing a last-minute inspection of the end section when I heard a cry.
“The second I realized it was a baby, I brought it here as fast as I could. Is it going to live?” His deep voice sounded haunted.
“We’re going to do everything in our power to make certain it does,” he assured him in a calm tone.
Two years of working in the ER had taught Meg how to read the expression on Dr. Tingey’s face. When one eyebrow arched higher than the other, it meant the victim’s medical condition was precarious, but no one else knew that.
“Set up an IV to start the antibiotics and fluid bolus. Then call the lab. I want a full workup, blood cultures, et cetera. Tell Julie to phone the sheriff’s office. We have a Baby Doe.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
Meg hurried to do his bidding. It was just as she’d feared. The infant had suffered blood loss during birth. No telling where the delivery had taken place. Considering the raging storm outside, she didn’t think she could bear to hear the tragic details, even if they were ever to come to light.
Within fifteen minutes everything possible was being done to stabilize the baby. Meg stood by to monitor the speed of the drip and get more IV bags ready if needed. Dr. Tingey finished trimming and cleaning the cord to make it sterile.
He’d told the stranger he could wait out in the small reception area if he wanted. But the other man insisted he would remain in the room.
It touched Meg’s heart that he would show this kind of concern for an abandoned baby. Unfortunately she’d seen too many cases where the natural parent seemed to have no nurturing instincts whatsoever.
Soon she heard voices in the hall and then a police officer came into the room. He nodded to everyone before his gaze went to the stranger.
“I’m Officer Brown assigned to this case. You’re the man who found the baby?”
“That’s right.”
“What’s the name, Sir?”
“Zane Broderick.”
“Age?”
