means we’ll have to call the on-call GI guy to come down and do an endoscopy to remove it.”
“Will he be OK?”
“They’ll sedate him first, and he should be fine, but he may need to stay overnight for further evaluation.”
The drooling man bobbed his head up and down in agreement, looking as though he’d do anything to get the lodged chunk of meat out of his throat.
An hour before the end of shift there was a lull in triage and Jan snuck back to the nurses’ lounge for a bottle of water. Gavin called out her name before she could return to her station. He motioned to her from his office to come over.
When she stepped inside, she found Beck already seated. When Dr. Riordan gestured for her to sit, she had no choice but to take the only remaining chair in the room…next to Beck.
“Tell me about Cassie,” Gavin started.
Jan leaned forward and took a breath to gather her thoughts. She’d seen so many cases that night she needed to make sure she was talking about the same patient. “The seizure patient?”
“Yeah. It wasn’t a seizure.”
“What do you mean?” Jan glanced at Beck for back-up.
“You could have fooled me,” Beck said.
“The electroencephalograph was normal. Completely normal. So was all of the lab work. The preliminary toxicology is negative for the usual suspects. No cocaine, speed, alcohol, or barbiturates.”
They all sat in silence, considering the implications of the findings.
“What about the CT?” Beck asked.
“Normal. No sign of brain lesion or injury.”
“Are you saying hers was a pseudo-seizure?” Jan asked.
Gavin shrugged. “Could be.”
“Once this soldier in my squad developed seizures and they eventually figured out they were psychogenic in nature,” Beck said. “They looked like regular convulsions and he wasn’t faking them. They were real to him, but he didn’t have any abnormal brainwave activity. Turned out he’d developed post-traumatic stress syndrome and certain sounds and smells triggered these events.”
“Cassie mentioned that the boy who brought her in had wanted to break things off today. She didn’t seem too upset about it. He couldn’t seem to get away fast enough when he heard her parents were coming in, though. I’d never in a million years have guessed that she was faking it.”
“She wasn’t necessarily faking it. In some instances personal problems can trigger seizure activity, though, like Beck said, it’s psychosocial in nature,” Gavin said. “I’m admitting her for observation and calling Psych and Neuro in for an evaluation and we’ll go from there. But what I do know is, she’s pregnant.”
Jan’s head shot up. “But she’s as thin as a waif.”
“I know. I stopped the lorazepam the minute I got the results. She may not have told her parents yet, so I’ll wait until she’s alone and more alert before I talk to her. Anyway, if you guys didn’t spot anything else while you were with her, I’d better get on,” he said, before bustling off.
Jan glanced at Beck and quickly away, before he could beat her to it. If convulsions could develop from hoarding personal and emotional trauma, or from being unwed and pregnant, hell, she should have been seizing for years now. She shook her head and rose to leave. Beck followed her outside.
He tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and found an earnest expression on his face. “I happened to hear you have tomorrow off, and was wondering if you’d meet me for breakfast.”
After a short burst of palpitations, Jan squinted and flashed a glare at Carmen, who averted her eyes rapidly. What should she do? The man should hate her for jilting him all those years ago, yet he’d been a perfect gentleman at work and had just asked her out for an innocent breakfast. Could she trust the amiable smile?
Deep groves bracketed his mouth and stretched all the way down to his chin. His eyes softened with the gesture and she fought the desire to look at him again, more thoroughly.
“Why?” she asked, staring at her feet.
He lowered his voice. “We used to be friends, January. Remember? I’d just like to do some catching up.” He lifted his palms. “But if that’s not OK with you, I’ll understand.”
Jan swallowed, guilt rolling in like a huge wave. “I guess breakfast would be OK.”
His relieved smile reminded her how easy it had been to fall for him. She couldn’t let that ever happen again.
What was his story? Why would he want to spend time with her after she’d done such a dirty trick by running away and breaking things off when he’d needed her most? When she’d needed him most?
Could she trust him with his little innocent breakfast proposal, or was she walking into some kind of trap?
THE next morning, not wanting to wear anything suggestive, Jan dressed carefully in a red Mexican-styled blouse with a bright embroidered bib for her breakfast date with Beck. He’d suggested the Pancake House, and she couldn’t help but think he’d chosen their favorite teenage haunt in Glendale as a reminder. Amazingly, the place hadn’t changed much at all.
Jan entered the A-frame building to find Beck already seated in a booth near the entrance. She wrapped the sweater she’d thrown over her shoulders tighter and tied the sleeves around her neck. The old lime green vinyl seats may have been replaced with plusher patterned wine-colored upholstery, but she’d quickly realized he’d chosen their favorite booth, the one by the full-length triangular window. She’d be extra-careful not to get drawn in with nostalgia.
With unreadable eyes, Beck watched her approach and stood when she got closer. “Good morning,” he said with a nod.
“Hi.” She glanced around. “It’s amazing this place is still in business.”
He handed her a large menu. “They’ve even upgraded the food with a few ‘lite’ and healthy items.”
The mundane conversation helped her slip into her seat and deal with the unavoidable anxiety that welled up inside. Meeting Beck for a meal for the first time in thirteen years took more courage than she’d ever dreamed. She tried to ignore the tingling in her palms and twitchy oversensitive feel of her skin. Recalling the kiss they’d shared on Saturday night, and her rapturous response, she’d do anything to avoid touching him again.
Beck tilted his head. “You look like you’re facing a death sentence. That’s a little harsh on a guy’s ego.”
She shook her head, releasing tensed facial muscles. The truth was she didn’t think she’d be able to eat a bite around him. “I just haven’t had my morning coffee yet, that’s all.”
He studied her face,
