and burn,” she said on a sigh as she headed for the tiny medicine alcove.
Beth lay perfectly still, woozy yet distracted by the noise and chaos. She opened her eyes and saw Patrick’s inquisitive gaze watching her as if she’d died and come back to life. He’d been raising and lowering the height of the bed by pushing the buttons on the side rails. For a while she’d dreamed she was on a Caribbean cruise, rocking and rolling at sea.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hi.” He quickly moved his hand. “Dad said you fainted.”
“How long was I out?”
“Not very long.”
She sat up, fighting an uphill battle with the gurney. “Can you push that and fix this?”
The boy eagerly complied, already a pro at the bedside controls. The blood-pressure cuff automatically pumped up again. Her BP was normal. She sat up, feeling fine now. She knew she shouldn’t have skipped lunch, but she’d still felt queasy and the thought of food had made her sick. And when dinner had been postponed, well, it must have caught up with her.
She glanced across the cavernous ER to another room. Behind the glass wall, Gavin was conversing with a doctor and a man and woman. A small boy lay behind him on the gurney. Her gaze came to rest on a teenage girl standing just outside the door. The girl chewed on her index finger and rubbed at red, swollen eyes; fear and concern furrowed her brow as she peered inside.
The timer on Beth’s wristwatch went off. She’d set it just before they’d left the allergy department. “Oh, Patrick, it’s time to check your back.” She fished around in her pocket for her calibrator to measure any redness or induration from the tests. “Take off your shirt.” She found her pen and a piece of scrap paper in her lab coat and, when Patrick backed up so she could see, began assessing the few small welts on his back. “Most everything is normal. You’ve got a mild reaction to grass and a couple of the trees. Oh, cat fur is borderline.”
“What does borderline mean?”
“It means you’re probably OK. Do you have a cat?”
“No. But I used to.” He got suddenly quiet.
“Well, other than the grass and trees, you’re OK. Can you get me a glass of water?”
He put his jersey back on and used the bedside sink to fill a small cup normally meant for pills. She smiled and took it gratefully, threw the contents back in one gulp and asked for another. “Do you have any candy on you? I’m starving.”
He shook his head but just as quickly his eyes brightened. “I know where the snack machines are.” Spoken like a kid who’d spent more than his share of hours hanging around the hospital because his dad was head of the ER.
Carmen appeared at the door with a lab tray.
“Oh, I’m fine now. I just need to get something to eat.”
“You know the drill,” Carmen said, setting her tray at the bedside and applying a tourniquet to Beth’s arm. “You show up in the ER and we’ve got to do blood tests. I had Rick, the supervising PA, order them.”
Knowing there was no getting around hospital protocol, Beth lay back and let Carmen do her job.
“Do I have to watch?” Patrick asked, his fine brows pinched together.
“If I give you a dollar, will you buy me a chocolate bar?” With her free hand Beth found a dollar and some change in the other pocket and gave him a handful. “Get yourself something, too.”
He shot out of the room as though on a world-saving mission before Carmen had a chance to expose a needle.
“So what did you do to Gavin? He looks like Lobster Man.”
“I know! And because he’s running around here, I can’t read his skin tests to find out what he’s allergic to.” She sighed. “What am I being tested for?”
Carmen was so skilled at drawing blood that Beth barely felt the needle pierce her skin. “The usual lab tests. Blood sugar. Electrolytes. When was your last period?”
Beth scratched her head and thought about it. Wait a second. Normally, she’d be having her period around this time, or maybe it was supposed to be last week?
Hesitating, she gave the information to her nurse.
Subtly lifting a brow, Carmen said, “Maybe I’ll throw in a pregnancy test.” She gathered her vials and left the room without giving Beth a hint about whether or not she knew what had gone on between her and Gavin a few weeks ago. Beth recognized her distinctive voice. But did Carmen know who Beth was?
The ripple effect of her poor judgement caused a second wave of lightheadedness, and forced Beth to lean back on the bed. Nah. No way. They’d used protection.
“Who’ll get the results?” she called out, without thinking things through.
“Rick will call you if anything’s abnormal.”
She’d been in this situation before, twice. Hell, that was the reason she’d gotten married, and her husband hadn’t been in the least bit happy about it. She hadn’t done it to trap him. It had just sort of happened. Back when she’d married Neal, she’d wanted nothing more than to have a family, but after they’d married, she’d miscarried within the first trimester. A year later, it had happened again; it wasn’t meant to be. Then he’d run off with that woman after maxing out Beth’s credit cards. Just thinking about her ex and the bosomy blonde he’d left her for sent her blood pressure into the stratosphere.
Oh, God, what if she was pregnant? She’d promised herself to only marry for love in the future, no matter what. Gavin was a total stranger.
To distract herself, Beth watched the girl standing outside the boy’s room across the ward. She’d been working at the teen clinic a couple nights a week for the last year and, with her own memories of teenage angst, she felt she’d finally cracked the code of what made them tick. Drawn by the girl’s silent scream and avoiding her own over a possible pregnancy, she decided to check things out.
“Hi,” Beth said, when she approached.
“I belong here. That’s my brother,” the girl answered, with both shoulders raised as if ready for a fight.
“You look pretty worried.” Beth edged closer.
“Well, wouldn’t you be?” she barked, and bit at the hangnail on her finger, avoiding Beth’s eyes.
“Oh, gosh, yes. But he’s in good hands now.” She was careful not to invade the teenager’s space and remained a couple of feet away while the girl leaned against the wall. “Mind if I keep you company?” Before the girl could answer, she went on, “What’s his name?”
“Andrew.” The petite girl shrugged.
“Well, Andrew will get the best of care. The surgeons will do everything they can to save his hand.”
“It’s my fault he’s here.” Frightened eyes peered above her knuckles, tears
