accident. I had an emergency. I’m sorry, but—”
“But we all do what we have to do, don’t we?” she whispered. “It doesn’t matter what we do to the people around us, as long as it’s good for us. I get it. You don’t need to apologize.”
“Yes, I do.” Eric took a step back, shook his head. “Look, Neil thinks Bryce’s problem might be TGV.” Transposition of the great vessels, where the two main arteries leaving the heart were reversed. Normally, blood from the heart’s right ventricle was carried by the pulmonary artery to the lungs, and blood from the left ventricle was taken by the aorta to the body. In the case of TGV, it was just the opposite, leaving the oxygenated blood meant to circulate through the body being pumped back into the lungs. “And at this point, I have no reason to disagree because the symptoms fit. Things may turn out differently once we get the baby—”
“You think it’s TGV, too?” Dinah’s mind raced through the procedures. There would be a first surgery, called a septostomy, to do an immediate, life-saving correction. In that, a hole was literally opened up to allow better flow of the blood. It was a temporary measure to be followed by another surgery to make the permanent repair. She’d treated babies who’d had the surgery, seen good outcomes, seen bad outcomes.
“You’ll drive.”
“Where?” she asked.
“To the hospital. You’ll drive, I’ll take care of the baby.”
The tension in the cab of the truck was so thick Dinah could have sliced through it with a scalpel. They’d been en route five minutes now, taking a back road that skirted the valley. It was muddy and slick, but it wasn’t washed out. And it was on higher ground, which was what made it a safer bet than taking the road down below the house, where the water was at least as high as the bottom of the truck door. Flash-flood warnings were out now, and all the lower roads were being closed. So she and Eric were driving along what amounted to little more than a fire trail, and Dinah was so nervous that her grip on the steering-wheel hurt. All the while, neither she nor Eric had spoken a word to each other since his initial instruction to her on getting to the hospital.
Yet in his defense, Eric was busy tending to Bryce, holding him in his lap and continually checking his pulse, his respiratory status, being so tender, so caring with him while she was fighting to stay straight and to avoid the bumps and ruts, most of which she couldn’t even see.
It crossed her mind that he was the doctor Molly should have had. He would have cared more than Charles had, even when hope had died. Charles, the man she’d almost married. How could she have been so wrong about him? Even thinking about it made her cringe.
Once or twice, Bryce let out a little cry then settled down again. And once or twice her heart lurched. Under the best of circumstances, this was a difficult situation. These weren’t the best of circumstances, and she fretted about the outcome every inch of the way to the hospital.
“Are you competent?” she finally asked, not at all sorry to be so blunt. Truth was, she wanted to hear his voice, feel some reassurance that he could handle this situation and make everything right for the baby.
“Competent at what?”
“Your medical skills. Are you a good doctor?”
“I’ve been told that’s the case.” He twisted slightly in his seat to look at her. “But, then, everyone is entitled to his, or her, opinion, I suppose.”
“I suppose,” Dinah muttered. Something about this man put her in a very bad mood. Something about every man had put her in a bad mood lately, but this one in particular made her shiver. Shiver with anger was what it was, which she didn’t like one little bit. Didn’t like any reaction in her caused by any man. And didn’t trust herself enough to know the distinctions.
“Are you competent?” he asked in return, the slightest trace of a smile crinkling his lips.
She was going to ignore that smile. Totally ignore it and pretend she hadn’t even seen it. “Competent at what?”
“Being a nurse.”
“I’m not a nurse.” Keeping her voice noncommittal wasn’t easy, but she did it, and did it so well she nearly believed her own words. Still, those words hurt, and the wound still bled. “I’m a cook. Here to take over for my sister when she’s on maternity leave.”
“A cook with good skills in labor and delivery, as well as CPR. And you did a mighty fine job of getting that IV needle into a newborn, which is not easy, especially when the newborn is so sick. So, did they teach you those things in culinary school?”
He was smiling fully now. The man actually had the audacity to sit there and smile at her. But she was still going to ignore it. Had to be impervious…Couldn’t get distracted. “Did they teach you your bad manners in medical school?”
“If I apologized for the accident again, would that make things better between us?”
“Why do things have to be better between us?” she asked, then hastily added, “But you do owe me a sincere apology and not one that’s meant only to get you away from me as quickly as possible.”
“Look, I told you I was in a hurry. I’m sorry I hit you, sorry I ran off and left you there, but in case you haven’t noticed, the town is going crazy. We’re flooding, the areas below us are submerging, the hospital is full of people with nowhere to go, some of them have injuries. I had to get to the emergency department, and stopping for something that amounted to nothing was a waste of my time.”
“And I thought White Elk was going to be civil,” she snapped. Gripping the steering-wheel more from anger than nervousness, she kept her eyes fixed straight ahead. “But I was wrong.”
“No, you weren’t wrong. Had it been any other time, under any other circumstances, I would have stopped and given you that sincere apology. But you were…not a priority. Getting to the hospital was.”
OK, she understood that. And maybe he was right. No, he was right. And she was overreacting. Which she’d been accused of doing a lot of lately. “It’s been a bad day,” she conceded. A bad day, a worse week and an even worse month. And everything was still spiraling downward. “I should be the one apologizing to you.”
“No apologies necessary. And you’re right, it’s been a bad day for everyone.” He glanced down at his tiny patient. “But mostly for him.”
Suddenly, all the anger and frustration drained right out of her. Sick children had a way of putting everything else into proper perspective, had a way of bringing everything else around them to a grinding halt. “How’s he doing?”
“Struggling. But fighting. He’s one tough little boy. So, are you a friend of Gabby’s?”
“No, I only met her today, right before I helped deliver Bryce. But I’m Angela Blanchard’s sister. And I’m really here to take over for her in the kitchen.”
“Funny. I would have sworn you were a nurse. A damn good one, if I had to make a bet on it.”
“I was a pediatric nurse and, yes, I like to think I was a damn good one, but that’s in the past,” she said. “I burned out.” That wasn’t the truth, but it was an easy explanation and people didn’t question it.
