scooped him off the floor and settled him on her hip. “That’s right, Sammy. It doesn’t matter if I’m off the clock, I’m not going home and leaving Myrna here in this condition, now am I?”
Sammy didn’t get a chance to coo or babble an answer to her, because the person scheduled to replace Kendry had arrived and was listening in.
“Which one’s Myrna?” she asked.
Kendry thought her replacement was kidding. For a second. One look at the woman’s face—Paula, she remembered—revealed that she wasn’t.
“Myrna is the little girl whose hand I’m holding. She was technically discharged because we were short beds, but her mother has to work, so admin said she could stay here.” The little girl’s belongings were packed in a plastic bag and her IV lines had been removed upon discharge, but her crib had been wheeled into the playroom until her mother could come to pick her up. Her room had already been filled by another patient.
“What time is her mother supposed to arrive?”
“Not for another hour. I don’t want to leave Myrna like this.”
Paula frowned at the baby in the stainless-steel hospital crib. “Like what? Calm and peaceful? Lord help me, I hope they all get like that and stay like that.”
Kendry couldn’t force herself to chuckle along with Paula’s joke, although she knew that was what was expected of her. “Myrna’s been here all week. Don’t you realize this isn’t her normal disposition?”
Paula shot Kendry a look. “Well, excuse me, Miss Know-It-All. There’s a lot of kids in here, and they change every day.”
Dang it. Now Kendry had taken the attention off the little girl and unwittingly put it on herself. Paula, unlike Kendry, was a certified medical assistant, a CMA. There was always a CMA on duty overnight. Paula was higher up on the hospital ladder, and Kendry had offended her.
“You’re so right. The ward has been at full occupancy all week.” Kendry could swallow her pride with the best of them when it came to helping a child. Heck, when it came to nearly every aspect of her life. “Myrna Quinones is acting like she’s fighting an infection, maybe. Something is making her listless.”
Paula pressed the call button for the nurses’ station, announcing herself as she did so. “Hey, it’s Paula here. Have you gotten a temperature on this Quinones child?”
The tinny response sounded exasperated. “Of course we have. Her vitals have been normal every single time we’ve checked them. Tell that orderly to go home. There’s no budget for overtime around here. She should have clocked out five minutes ago.”
Paula wasn’t here five minutes ago, so I couldn’t have clocked out.
Kendry spoke to Sammy, who sat on her hip as he chewed his fingers. “Let’s go for a walk, little guy. We’ll clock me out, then come back to say bye-bye to Myrna.”
The lively little boy on her hip cheerfully called, “Da-da!”
Sammy’s dad was here. Kendry knew what Da-da’s voice would sound like. She braced herself for that educated, masculine timbre, that voice with just a hint of native Texas drawl.
“Hey, little buddy. How was your day?”
It didn’t matter how many times she heard it, it still made her melt a little. Sammy kicked Kendry vigorously in happy response as she turned around to find Sammy’s father, all six-feet-something of him, standing close enough to take his son out of her arms.
“Hi, Dr. MacDowell. Sammy’s doing well today. He drank every ounce of formula. He seems to have an easier time taking his bottle when I have him sitting almost straight up. It makes me wonder if—”
“Good evening, Dr. MacDowell.” Paula’s voice had a different tone to it now. All peaches and cream.
Kendry stifled her frustration. She wanted to discuss Sam’s ability to eat, but Paula wanted to...to...
Flirt. There wasn’t a woman in the hospital who didn’t know Dr. MacDowell was single. Never had been married, apparently. He’d returned from military service in Afghanistan with Sammy, so the rumor mill said, and had turned in his camouflage for a civilian career in order to spend more time with his son. Because no mother was in the picture, some people speculated that the baby was an orphan whom Dr. MacDowell had adopted. This only made women sigh with even more approval.
Sammy grabbed the tubing of Dr. MacDowell’s stethoscope and tried to get it—and his fist—in his mouth. The doctor calmly pried the baby’s fingers open, removed the stethoscope from around his neck and tucked it into the pocket of his white lab coat, all in one smooth move. Then he dropped a kiss on top of Sammy’s head.
He was Sammy’s father, all right. Who cared if the baby’s hair was a darker black than his father’s deep brown? Who cared if the child seemed petite compared to his strapping American father? This baby was loved. Kendry wished all the children that came through West Central were so lucky.
“You can go home now, Kendry,” Paula said.
“What were you saying about Sam’s bottles?” Dr. MacDowell asked.
“I’m wondering if—”
“I’ve got his daily sheet right here, with all his feedings listed,” Paula interrupted. “Kendry, you need to go clock out. There’s no overtime in the budget, and you don’t want to tick off the supervisor.”
Kendry wished her Irish heritage didn’t make it so easy for her pale skin to blush. She hated being put in her place, but even more, she hated being so firmly reminded she was an hourly-wage orderly in front of Dr. MacDowell.
“I’ll walk with you, Miss Harrison,” Dr. MacDowell said. “I want to hear what you have to say.”
Miss Harrison. He addressed everyone in the hospital by their proper names and titles. Still, she couldn’t help but appreciate the respect he showed her. He wanted to hear what she had to say. He always did. He was the kind of doctor who would patiently listen to family members who anxiously brought someone to the E.R. He would listen...
Her gaze returned to Myrna, who was lying as she’d been for the past hour. She hadn’t responded to Paula or Dr. MacDowell’s appearance by her crib.
Dr. MacDowell would listen.
“Could you look at this patient for me? Her name is Myrna Quinones, she’s nine months old, and she’s due to be discharged today. She had surgery three days ago, and I’m wondering if she might have an infection or something. She’s grown increasingly listless today, and I haven’t been able to interest her in taking more than a couple of ounces from her bottle, but she’s been off IV fluids since this morning. Maybe she’s dehydrated?”
“Kendry, please.” Paula sounded shocked. “You don’t bother physicians with cases that aren’t theirs. Dr. MacDowell, I assure you, the nurses on the floor have been checking on Myrna every hour. I’ve requested an update myself, and she isn’t running a fever or showing any signs of infection.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cook.”
Kendry bit her lower lip. Dr. MacDowell had said thank you in that dismissive
