in her effort to respond.
Ty didn’t wait to hear what she came up with. He turned and headed towards the locker room to change his clothes.
Two hours later, Ty sat behind the nurses’ station in the CICU. He’d not managed to get away as soon as he’d hoped. Busy making notes on the latest patient’s chart, he looked up to see Dr. Ross enter, along with a woman and a couple of teenagers. Dr. Ross led the way to Mr. Martin’s bed.
The nurse sitting to his left muttered to the clerk on her right, “Well, I see the ice queen has arrived.”
So he wasn’t special. She was cool to everyone.
“Yeah, but the woman sure can dress,” the clerk responded. “Too bad she isn’t as nice as her clothes.”
These women were jealous.
He couldn’t blame them. Dr. Ross was a stately woman with regal bearing. Dressed in a form-fitting pale pink suit jacket and skirt that left no curve untouched, she was eye-catching. He sat up taller in the chair. From his vantage point he could see her from head to toe. He perused her trim calves, following their well-defined length until he stopped at heels that perfectly matched her suit. He’d bet his motorcycle that they were designer, hand-made shoes.
His gaze returned to her dark sable-colored hair. It was pulled back and held by a large silver clasp, which added to the woman-in-control look. She had certainly been hiding some fetching bends and turns under that surgical garb. Too bad that if you touched her with a wet finger it might stick because she was so cold.
She spoke with gracefully arcing hands, pointing and gesturing to pumps and machinery encircling the patient’s bed. She must be explaining what they were and how they worked. To his surprise, occasionally she gave the small group a reassuring smile. So there was some warmth under that freezing exterior. She just didn’t choose to share it with him.
She glanced toward the desk and for a second her gaze met his. Did he see anxiety in those eyes?
No, that would be the last emotion he’d attribute to Dr. Ross. Self-confidence oozed from her.
Sliding back the chair, Ty continued to watch the family as they hovered around the patient. Dr. Ross no longer stood in the center of the group. She now blended into the background as she answered an occasional question. Standing, Ty came around the desk, planning to leave the unit. When she looked in his direction again he changed his angle and walked towards the group. Stopping beside her, he asked in hushed tones, “Is there a problem?”
She stiffened. “No. Why would you ask that?” she hissed.
Her eyes were on the family members, as if she was making sure they didn’t overhear their conversation.
“Good. From my end he looks good. I don’t see any reason the tube can’t be pulled out tomorrow morning if he continues on this path.”
“I appreciate—”
Her remark was interrupted by the woman he assumed was their patient’s wife. She looked at him and then back at Dr. Ross.
The sound of Dr. Ross clearing her throat and the almost imperceptible hesitation didn’t get past him but only because he was standing so close to her. She’d had no intention of introducing him but now if she didn’t she would appear impolite.
Ty smiled at the woman and extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Ty Smith, I’m the anesthesiologist who worked with Dr. Ross on Mr. Martin’s case.”
“Thank you for taking such good care of my husband. Our family, my son and daughter …” the woman nodded toward the teens “… are grateful for everything you’ve done.”
“I assure you your husband received the best of care. Dr. Ross is an excellent surgeon.” He glanced at Dr. Ross. A flicker of skepticism entered her eyes. She must be wondering what he was up to. He’d meant what he’d said about her skills. Her abilities exceeded many he’d shared an OR with but praise appeared to make her uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry that this could only be a short visit,” Dr. Ross said to the woman. “After shift change you may stay longer. Why don’t you have dinner and then come back to visit?”
“We will. Come on, kids. Thanks, Dr. Ross. Dr. Smith, nice to meet you.”
He nodded as the family passed him on their way to the door.
Dr. Ross moved to where the nurse stood and began discussing the patient.
Ty silently stepped away. Based on the conversation he and Dr. Ross had had after the surgery, she probably hadn’t appreciated him coming over to meet the family. There had been a couple of seconds there when he’d seen past her cold exterior to some emotion he couldn’t give a name to.
Minutes after leaving the CICU Michelle knocked on the chief of surgery’s office door.
“Enter,” she heard from the other side of the door.
She didn’t always agree with Dr. Marshall’s decisions or directives but she did think he was fair. He had been a mentor of sorts to her and more than once had gone to bat for her when there had been a problem between her and Administration. For the most part, though, he left her alone to do her job. He was old school but supportive. When he’d gone through medical school it had been almost entirely a man’s profession so a female heart surgeon had made him feel a little uneasy.
She opened the door, stepped in and closed it behind her. The balding doctor leaned back in his chair, interest written on his face.
“To what do I owe this visit? I don’t think you’ve been in my office for some time.”
“Bob, you know I don’t complain much.”
He nodded, his eyes intently watching her.
“But I can’t allow the new supply anesthesiologist to work in my OR again.”
Dr. Marshall propped his arms on his desk, concern on his face. “Is the patient okay?”
“The patient is fine. Doing very well really.”
He relaxed. “Then what’s the problem? Smith, I think his name is, came highly recommended. Good CV. Excellent, actually.”
“I cannot have the man showing up late for procedures.”
Bob looked at her incredulously. “Why did he show up late?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
“Did you ask him?”
“No. I didn’t. I just need the people on my team to be on time.”
“If that is the only fault you can find I think you should ask him why. I know you run a tight ship but we are all late sometimes.”
“I’m not.”
Bob released an exaggerated huff. “I know you’re not. It might be good if you were occasionally.” He said the last few words so quietly that she almost missed them. “Michelle, I think you’re overreacting a bit. We’re short an anesthesiologist and I can’t
