“And you are?”
Her smile dropped a smidgen but it picked right back up in no time. “I’m Suzanne, but my friends call me Sue.” Her brown eyes sparkled with the suggestive tone of her voice.
A familiar queasy feeling arose in my stomach. I didn’t say anything in response to the woman. Giving her a final glare, I quickly scanned the rest of the nurses’ station and was disappointed to see Grace wasn’t behind it. My head dipped and I checked the time on my watch. It was two minutes until nine o’clock. Grace was always early. I wondered what was holding her up.
“I see you’re performing two surgeries today, Dr. Reynolds,” that pesky female from behind the nurses’ station called.
I didn’t bother acknowledging her comment, as I pressed onward toward the whiteboard that hung on the wall, listing off all the scheduled surgeries for the day. Seeing Grace’s name listed by mine for the Westbrook surgery but not for the rhinoplasty, I frowned.
“Looks like I’ll be assisting you in your second surgery of the day.”
I glanced over my shoulder, looked the woman straight in the eye, saying nothing at all before tucking one of the cups of coffee under my right arm and turning back to the whiteboard, lifting the dry eraser to erase her name, and then writing in Nurse Young as the OR nurse assisting on the surgery.
“Doesn’t look that way anymore,” I retorted before taking my first sip of my coffee and then sauntering off toward my office. I shared my office with one other plastic surgeon but we often had opposite shifts so we rarely saw one another. I placed my bag on the black leather loveseat that I’d spent more than one night sleeping on just so I wouldn’t have to go home after a long surgery. I didn’t even bother firing up the desktop computer on my desk. Any information I needed to update could be done later. Right then my two objectives were to check-in on Johnny Westbrook and ensure everything was ready for his surgery, and to find Grace, and not necessarily in that order.
I adorned the coveted white coat over my black scrubs, threw my stethoscope around the back of my neck, and headed out the door, two cups of coffee in hand.
Taking the stairs up to the fifth floor, I entered the burn unit and strode down the hallway, constantly keeping an eye out. Before I even hit Johnny’s room, the sound of feminine laughter stopped me in my tracks. It moved right through my chest as if it was made to grab ahold of something deep in my soul … if I had one.
I moved closer until I reached the doorway, and there I found her, exactly where I figured she would be. By the patient’s bedside.
“Morning,” I interrupted, and didn’t miss the way Grace’s dimples flashed as she turned to face me. I didn’t miss the way her smile grew either, before it quickly disappeared, and she cleared her throat.
“Good morning, Dr. Reynolds,” she responded in a professional tone. “Mr. Westbrook and his family were told it was okay to spend a little bit of time with Johnny before he goes in for his surgery this morning.”
I scanned the room, noticing Mr. Westbrook sitting at the side of his son’s bed, in a wheelchair, along with two other men, one woman, and a teenage girl.
“Yeah, hope you don’t mind, Doctor. These are my brothers, Mark and Charles, this is Charles’ wife, Gail, and their daughter, Anna.”
My gaze dropped to Mr. Westbrook. “It’s not a problem at all. I don’t think a few minutes of family time will hurt.”
That wasn’t entirely true. As a burn victim, Johnny was highly susceptible to infection, thus making it important to keep the number of visitors down. But everyone was wearing a hospital-issued gown and mask over their face, obviously taking precaution.
I moved past Grace toward the bed of the one person I hadn’t actually spoken to or acknowledged yet.
“Hello, Johnny. I’m Dr. Reynolds,” I introduced. “Do you remember me?”
“N-No.” He tried to shake his head but the pain it caused was apparent.
“That’s okay. Try not to move too much. I took care of you when you first came into the hospital, along with Nurse Young.” Turning to Grace … and found it difficult to look away from her once I did. “We’ll be taking care of you again today.”
“Will it st-stop hurting?”
Shoving my fisted hands into my pockets, I swallowed. “We’ll try to give you something to help with the pain. But you’ll be asleep during the surgery, which will help with your healing.” It was the only assurance I could give the young boy. The fact was, the pain would last for a while and the scars were something he’d be dealing with for the rest of his life. But he, nor anyone else in the room, needed to hear that at the moment.
“Nurse Young—”
“Johnny’s vitals look good,” she stated as she handed me the chart, already knowing what I was going to ask.
I checked over the numbers she wrote down this morning and nodded in agreement. By the looks of it, Johnny’s body should be able to withstand this surgery.
“Nurse Young and the surgical staff will prep Johnny for surgery, and I’ll be waiting for him in the OR. The surgery will take a few hours, given the section of Johnny’s body we’re working on today,” I said, looking across the bed at the boy’s father.
He smiled but I saw the fear and hesitation in his hazel eyes.
“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted as he knocked.
Turning toward the door, I frowned at the sight of a priest, Bible in hand, entering the room.
