Six
The Edge Emergency Department, Chicago Thursday, June 28, 9:30 p.m.
Dr. Marissa Frasier ruffled the hair of her six-year-old patient, Jeremiah Owens. “You were very brave, Jeremiah.”
The little boy had arrived at the ER two hours ago with a greenstick fracture to the radius about three inches above his left wrist. After an examination and then X-rays to confirm, he had stoically watched as Dr. Pete Myers, the ortho on call, applied the cast for keeping the arm stable. Jeremiah had chosen royal blue for his cast. Though there had been no serious shift in the bones as a result of the fracture, they wanted it to stay that way, and children couldn’t always be counted on to follow instructions or to keep on a splint. A cast was typically the better route to go with younger patients.
The child’s lips had quivered and his eyes had grown bright during the procedure, but Mom was the only one who cried. The poor woman had apologized profusely. Her sweet son had repeatedly told her that he was okay and that it didn’t really hurt. Being a parent was difficult at times, and this had been one of those times.
Dr. Myers had quickly moved on to an elderly patient who’d arrived with a fracture to the upper quarter of the femur. Never a good thing, but particularly problematic in older patients. Apparently tonight’s theme was broken bones. They’d had three others this evening. Marissa was reasonably confident that was a record for a Thursday night.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Mrs. Owens said, her tears all but dry now. “He was a very brave boy.” She kissed the top of her child’s head.
Marissa smiled. “Perhaps when Nurse Bowman has gone over the dismissal instructions, a reward is in order for your outstanding bravery, Jeremiah.”
“I think that’s a very good idea.” His mother patted him gently on the back. “A reward would be very nice, don’t you think, Jeremiah?”
He nodded eagerly, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Nurse Bowman will let you pick something from our special treasure chest.” Marissa gave Eva a nod as she walked to the door. “Have a safe drive home.”
This time Jeremiah actually flashed her a real smile. She couldn’t decide whether he was happier about the treasure chest or going home.
The ER had been buzzing for the past several hours. A couple had misjudged the time it would take to reach their preferred hospital and ended up having to stop at the Edge for their little girl’s entrance into the world. A two-car accident with five victims; a bicycle crash involving two teenagers who suffered broken bones, nasty lacerations and no shortage of bruises; and two concertgoers who’d taken tumbles while crowd surfing had shown up with fractures similar to Jeremiah’s. There was also a knife fight between two thugs in a drug deal gone wrong. Both victims had arrived in the backs of police cruisers.
And yet another little boy, Timmy, who arrived with a scary-looking laceration to the upper arm, caused by a bad idea. The boy had decided he wanted to practice knife throwing the way a character in some movie he’d watched recently had done. Amazingly he had actually hit the tree with the knife he’d sneaked from his mother’s kitchen. The trouble had occurred when he braced his left arm against the tree and attempted to dislodge the knife with his right, slicing across his left arm only a couple of inches above the elbow. He was a very lucky little boy. A little deeper, and he might not have arrived at the ER in time. The brachial artery was closest to the surface near the elbow. Marissa was very thankful the injury was not so deep and had missed the artery.
At the double doors that led back into the lobby, Jeremiah slipped free from his mother’s hand and raced back to where Marissa stood near the nurses’ station and gave her a hug. She crouched down and hugged him back. Her heart reacted. She had so wanted children of her own.
Not meant to be. At least not so far, and with no prospects of a boyfriend, much less a husband, the outlook was rather dim.
When the child skipped back to where his mother waited at the open door, Marissa waved goodbye. As the doors closed, she turned back to the chart she was reviewing.
“Dr. Frasier.”
Marissa paused and looked up at the registration specialist, Patsy Tanner, who’d called her name. “Yes, Patsy?”
“There’s a man in the lobby who says he needs to see you.” She shrugged. “I told him you were with a patient but he just keeps pacing the room. He asks for you every five or so minutes.” Her expression turned uncertain. “He looks very upset.”
A frown furrowing its way across her weary forehead, Marissa dredged up a smile. “Thank you, Patsy. I’ll take care of it.”
Sometimes a father or husband or even boyfriend of a patient would grow agitated and demand to speak with the doctor who had cared for his loved one. Since Marissa hadn’t lost any patients or even attended to any patients with a dire prognosis this evening, she couldn’t imagine the trouble would be too serious. Perhaps one of the two who’d been carried off to jail after their knife battle had a disgruntled friend. She sent a quick text to Security and asked that they keep an eye on the situation as she spoke with the man pacing the lobby.
The moment Marissa stepped beyond the double doors that stood between those waiting for care and the emergency department, she knew it wasn’t going to be so easy.
Even before the man turned around, she recognized him. The rigid set of his broad shoulders. The silky dark brown hair that brushed his collar. He wore jeans and a shirt, not the khakis and a polo he’d preferred before their lives had fallen apart. William Bauer turned around as if he sensed
