Slipping her purse off her shoulder to rest on the floor, she settled next to him and waited, tilting her head to make sure she got everything he said.
Blake lifted his head and gazed around the room, his breathing heavier than normal.
“I lost a patient today.”
Dear God. No wonder he seemed lost and distracted. She placed her hand on his arm.
“I’m so sorry. So sorry. How old?” Not that it made a difference. Losing a child at any time was a parent’s worst nightmare.
“Seven. She’d been in and out of here for the past two months. Even though the prognosis was never great, I always hoped we could find some way to prolong her life.”
Carli didn’t ask how the child died. It was none of her business and didn’t change how Blake felt. All she could do was give him some comfort and hope it helped, even if only a tiny bit.
His hand covered hers, and awareness tingled up her arm.
“It’s the day before Thanksgiving, and this poor family has nothing to be thankful for.”
“It sounds like they got seven wonderful years with their child that they may not have had if it weren’t for the great doctors caring for her.”
Blake blew out a big breath. “I’m not sure they see it that way.”
“Did they blame you?” She knew some people who were grieving would take it out on the doctor involved, regardless of whether there was a reason to.
His head moved side to side. “I still feel like I should have done something more.”
“I assume you weren’t her only doctor.” Terminal patients typically had specialists working with them.
“No, but I’d developed a close relationship to the family and the little girl. Remember Wonder Woman at the Halloween party?”
“Oh, no. She was precious.” Tears formed in her eyes. That sweet little girl. Carli had spent a good deal of time chatting and entertaining her, since she was in a wheelchair and too weak to participate in some of the activities.
Blake curled his right arm around her shoulder. Leaning in, she rested her head against his chest, hoping to provide warmth and caring to him at the same time.
“Is this the first patient you’ve ever lost?”
“There were a few during med school, but they were nevermypatient. She’s the first one I’ve really gotten to know. I love working with children, but sometimes seeing them hurt or dying and not being able to fix it really sucks. Guess I’m not a hardened doctor…yet.”
“You don’t need to be hardened. You’re allowed to be human and have human emotions like grief and loss. I’ve seen you with your patients, and you’re fabulous with children. Pediatrics was a good choice for you.”
His heart thumped against her cheek, and she knew she should feel awkward sitting this close to him, but he needed someone right now. She could do that much for him.
“If I’d wanted to see people die, I would have gone into oncology or geriatrics. I’m not delusional enough to think I’ll never lose a patient, but I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this too often.”
Somehow her arm had wrapped around his back as she melded against him. He wasn’t complaining, so she wouldn’t. It was selfish of her, but hopefully they were both benefiting from the human contact.
“I’m here if you need me. Happy to listen or just sit and hold your hand.” His left hand and her right were also entwined in his lap. When had that happened?
“I appreciate it, especially after the way I treated you last Friday. I’m sorry I acted that way. I should never have taken my frustration with Harrison out on you. You’ve done so much for our family. Do you forgive me?”
Now that they weren’t talking about his lost patient, she felt self-conscious. Pulling away but remaining close and holding his hand, she said, “You already apologized. No need to do it again.”
“I know, but it didn’t seem to make things go back to the way they were. Us being friends.”
After patting his hand, she squeezed it, then placed it in her lap. “We are friends.” And snuggling up next to him, no matter how much she told herself it was comfort, wasn’t what friends did.
Blake shifted to face her. “I miss our lessons. It was a nice little break in the middle of a hectic day. Would you consider starting them up again? I’ll even buy you lunch every day. It’s only fair. Or is after work better?”
“You don’t have to buy me lunch. We may not be able to do it every day like we did last week, because my final paper is due for my class, and I really have to finish it. And I hate to leave you, but I promised my mom I’d help make pies for tomorrow.”
