A little bit over a half an hour later, as the boy was being rolled into one of the burn unit rooms, Grace was right by my side while I moved down the stairs to retrace the same steps we’d taken hours earlier, to the emergency department. The ED was still swarming with injured patients who had to wait to be treated after the most serious cases were taken care of.
“We’re looking for the father of Johnny Westbrook,” I told the nurse behind the station.
She looked up at me, blinking, taking a second to recall who I was referring to.
“The little boy who was burned in the accident,” Grace cleared up.
“Oh, oh, right. Uhhh, he’s in ED3.”
I nodded and headed to room number three of the emergency department.
“Mr. Westbrook?”
A man with a greying beard and red-rimmed eyes stared back at me from the bed he laid in. I noticed his right arm had been strapped in a sling indicating a possible fracture. The right side of his face was swollen and bruised, and his left leg was propped up on pillows in another sling. He’d obviously been through the wringer himself.
“I’m Dr. Reynolds and this is Nurse Grace. We took care of your son, Johnny.”
He immediately tried to sit up. “H-How is he? I’ve been tr-trying to g-get information—”
“Shshsh, don’t try to speak, Mr. Westbrook,” Grace consoled, seeing the man in obvious pain, both physically and mentally.
Swallowing, I averted my gaze. Again, this was the aspect of my job that was my least favorite.
“Johnny is stable for now. The good news is he did not have as much internal damage as we originally believed.” I paused, letting Mr. Westbrook brace himself for the obvious bad news. “His burns were extensive. He has third and fourth degree burns over fifty percent of his body. And while he is stable now, he’s going to have a long road ahead of him for recovery. We will have to operate in a day or two to begin the process of skin grafting to help regenerate new skin to grow where he was burned.”
Mr. Westbrook swallowed, obviously confused, pained, and in deep anguish. “B-But he’s alive.”
“Yes, he’s alive and resting in our burn unit, Mr. Westbrook,” Grace added, reassuring.
Again, I was glad she was there.
We spent a little more time with Mr. Westbrook, discussing his son’s condition until an orthopedic surgeon and nurse came in to tend to Mr. Westbrook’s fractured limbs.
“Are you hungry?” Grace suddenly turned to me asking once we exited the ED.
“I am,” came my quick reply. It was almost nine o’clock at night, well past the three p.m. hour I was scheduled to leave.
“The cafeteria’s a short walk a—”
“Let’s do it.” I didn’t need her to finish her suggestion.
Chapter Four
Grace
“Oh man,” I blurted out before sighing and sitting down at the square, wooden table next to the large window in the hospital’s cafeteria. “I’m exhausted.”
Dr. Reynolds didn’t say anything but his heavy movements as he plopped down across from me gave away the extent of his tiredness as well.
“And you didn’t have to pay for my food,” I added quickly, frowning at him.
“I don’t have to do a lot of things I choose to do.” His words were followed by him shoving a forkful of steamed broccoli into his mouth.
I forced my eyes to keep off of his lips as he chewed but it was a struggle. His statement reminded me of my own retort earlier in the day, right before he was paged to the ED. In that moment, I could have sworn he was going to kiss me. And I needed to ask myself if I would’ve let him. I certainly hadn’t even thought of pulling away when I felt his arm around my waist.
I looked up again, shoving aside that little memory, to realize Dr. Reynolds was still staring at me.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” I inquired.
