Sacred Trust

“To church Sunday.”

“I’ll probably go somewhere.” He built another fajita, this time with less filling, while Lauren chatted on about the hospital.

He learned quite a few interesting facts about his new place of employment, such as the doubled volume of patients seen through the emergency department since Mrs. Estelle Pinkley took over as administrator five years ago. The lady had, according to Lauren, brought the hospital out of the computerless dark ages and out of debt for the first time in over a decade.

“But you’d better watch yourself,” Lauren warned as Lukas finished his last bite of chicken. “The E.R. director doesn’t want a full-time physician working here.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “With Dr. George, who knows? He fought Mrs. Pinkley about the computers, too. He’s about ready to retire, and he doesn’t like change.”

Lukas glanced around to find the waiter flipping around the Closed side of the sign in the front window. “Looks like we should be leaving. Will they give us a ticket at the cash register?”

“Don’t worry, I paid it already.”

Lukas reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. He smiled as kindly as he knew how and placed the money on the table in front of her. He knew as he left that he was behaving like a jerk. It bothered him. Lauren seemed like a good, caring person, and she was probably just being kindhearted to a newcomer. Still, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

Chapter Four

T hursday morning Lukas arrived at work later than usual, dripping with dew from the light rain outside. He could have kicked himself for oversleeping. The shift change would just have to be with the emergency department director, Dr. Jarvis George.

“Morning, Judy. Any patients waiting?” Lukas asked as he checked his mail cubicle.

“Good morning, Dr. Bower.” The E.R. secretary for today’s shift turned from her computer and smiled at him. “Dr. George is in the laceration room sewing a nursing-home patient who was injured when she became combative. We’ve got an irritable child in five and a possible sprain or fracture in seven. Dr. George hasn’t seen them.”

Lukas glanced at his watch. Even though he was ten minutes late, he had time to change into his scrubs. The patients weren’t critical, and Dr. George would want to finish his own sutures. “Thanks, Judy. I’ll be right back.”

He glanced into the emergency room and glimpsed the director bent over his patient. Jarvis George’s graywhite hair, army-cut short, could have depicted a kindly older gentleman who loved his patients and whose patients trusted and loved him. Maybe that was the case. Lauren’s warning about Dr. George echoed from last night.

When Lukas walked into the laceration room a few moments later, he was friendly and upbeat.

“Good morning, Jarvis. Do we have any patients you want me to take?” He glanced at the elderly female who lay prone on the table, her nearly fleshless tailbone and hip exposing a small gash beside a partially healed bedsore.

The older man straightened from his work and pierced Lukas’s friendliness with a glare. “I don’t know how you were taught to address your superiors in your Kansas City hospital, Dr. Bower, but I prefer a little less familiarity, if you don’t mind.”

Lukas managed not to stare. “Excuse me, Dr. George. I meant no disrespect. I guess I am accustomed to a more casual atmosphere.” Wow, Lauren was right. There seemed to be a problem here.

Dr. George returned to his sewing. “You can see to the whiny kid in five. He’s got an earache. The patient in seven has a probable sprained ankle. I’ve been busy sewing, and since you came in late, I haven’t had a chance to—Ouch!”

Lukas had watched it happen, had seen the needle pierce the glove in the palm of the man’s left hand, and winced as he imagined the puncture.

“Can’t believe I did that,” the director muttered to himself. He shot a quick look toward Lukas, as if blaming him for the distraction.

Lukas stepped out of the room. “Nurse,” he called and found redheaded Beverly coming from the child’s room. “We need a needlestick protocol in here, please.”

“I beg your pardon,” Dr. George rumbled as he stepped around the laceration table and out toward Lukas. “Nurse, ignore that request,” he said, not taking his gaze from Lukas.

Lukas cleared his throat, staring back at his new director in dismay. “I’m sorry, Dr. George, I didn’t mean to offend. I’ve just been reading about protocol, and—”

“I’m aware of protocol, Bower,” Dr. George snapped. “I helped write it.”

Lukas winced. He was not winning a friend here.

The director waved Beverly away, still glaring at Lukas. “If you will kindly take care of your patients and leave me alone with mine, I’ll be able to get home sometime this morning.”

“Yes, Dr. George. Sorry. I’ll go see my patients now.” Lukas hustled away, resisting the urge to ask the director if his tetanus was at least up-to-date.

The sprain turned out to be a hairline fracture. The earache did not require antibiotics. After Lukas had splinted the ankle and convinced a distraught mother that the medicine she requested could actually set her child up for a more resistant strain of ear infection later, Lukas finished his charts and checked for more arrivals.

“Think I’ll go to breakfast now, Beverly,” he said when he found no other patients listed on the schedule board. He started down the hallway, then turned back. “Oh, by the way, where are the incident report forms kept?”

Beverly raised a brow at him. “They’re filed in the secretary’s cabinet. Tell me you’re not going to report Dr. George.”

“Rules are rules. Even if he doesn’t follow protocol, I’m required to make a report. It’s plainly listed in the little booklet I received the other day.”

“You’re going to find that we don’t always follow the rules to the letter around here.”

“Thanks, Beverly, but safety comes first. There’s a good reason for those rules.” He’d gotten into trouble before when he’d been lenient with a nurse and overlooked a break in protocol when she had violated a direct order from him. It gave her a chance to falsify the record.

“He’ll find out. He knows everything that goes on around here,” Beverly warned.

He waved and left for breakfast.

Theadra Zimmerman—Tedi to anyone who valued life—couldn’t concentrate. She could barely keep her eyes open even to look outside, where the rain fell as if God had decided to wash off the new leaves and speed the growth of the grass.

Good thing she sat behind Jeff McCullough in class. His broad shoulders would cover her from Mrs. Watson’s probing eyes and catch-you-off-balance questions. The fifth-grade teacher always seemed to ask Tedi more questions than anyone, and she even expected better answers from Tedi than she did from Abby Cuendet, who always got straight As.

Tedi leaned her chin down onto her fists on the desk as Mrs. Watson droned on about new discoveries regarding the rings of Saturn.

Dad and Julie had fought last night, the first time Tedi had heard them fight since they’d begun dating two months ago. Julie didn’t like Dad drinking so much. Big surprise. Tedi didn’t like it, either, but that didn’t stop him. Last night she’d sat up in the hallway, eavesdropping, wondering if maybe he would listen to Julie, even though he wouldn’t listen to anyone else.

When Julie finally left, she’d slammed the front door behind her. Apparently Dad had not listened to her, either.

Tedi felt a weird combination of disappointment and satisfaction. Why should a near stranger be able to do something she herself had tried to do for such a long time?

And what made Julie think that just because she was blond and pretty and wore a lot of makeup…

“Tedi Zimmerman, I asked you a question,” came Mrs. Watson’s sharp voice.

Tedi jerked. Her chin slipped off her fist.

Jeff’s shoulders shifted as he turned to look at Tedi along with the rest of the fifth-grade class. This gave Mrs. Watson a clear view of Tedi trying to straighten up and look alert.

Mrs. Watson gave her that “I’ve had it with you, kid” look and shook her head.

“Class, I want you to read the next few pages on Neptune. No talking while I’m gone. Tedi, come with me.”

For a moment Tedi sat and stared at Mrs. Watson. “Where?”