Maverick In The Er

“I assume that I’m ‘one of the other doctors’?” she said dryly.

“Do you mind? “

“Not at all.”

“Good, because if you ever do see her, her visit will go easier if I’ve introduced you.”

“Okay. What’s her complaint?”

“Stomachache.”

She glanced at his empty hands. “Where’s her paperwork?”

“We don’t create any.”

Sierra stared at Trey. “No paper trail?”

“Like I said, she comes relatively often with such minor problems that we’d waste more time filling out forms than if we’d actually deal with her situation.”

She’d been warned of Trey Donovan’s unorthodox style, but she hadn’t expected to find an example of it so quickly.

“A few administrative people might be upset by the way you’re handling this individual,” she commented cautiously, to test his response. “Treating a patient without documentation. Legal liability issues, etcetera.”

He shrugged as if he was unconcerned. “I suppose they might be unhappy if Frances sues us for not removing a splinter properly. Until then, I guess you’ll have to decide if you’ll keep our secret or not.”

Sierra ignored the challenge in his voice. “Have you encouraged her to visit the outpatient clinic instead of the E.R.?”

“Frances has come here since she was a little girl so the concept is ingrained in her. Do you want to try and change her belief system at this late date?

“Besides,” he continued, “the clinic staff doesn’t know her like we do. They won’t take time for the minor things and if they do, they certainly won’t operate out of the goodness of their hearts. She won’t understand when they turn her away or ask her to pay, and then she’ll get upset and fall apart, which I can assure you is not a pretty sight. It saves so much wear and tear on everyone if we just do what needs to be done. A regular win-win situation.”

Sierra wanted to argue that Frances’s caseworker needed to be involved, but several things stopped her.

One, she was intrigued by how the ED staff had literally taken this woman under their wing.

Two, this was Trey’s domain. As the most senior ED physician, he knew his department’s strengths and limitations far better than she did. He also had the authority to establish policies and procedures, with or without his immediate supervisor’s approval. If he wanted to handle Frances in his own way, he certainly had the clout to do so.

This also seemed to be a prime opportunity to either build a bridge or a brick wall. She could stick to the hospital rule book, which would earn her brownie points from her superiors, or she could save her energy for more important battles.

On the other hand, if she caved in on this issue, was she setting a precedent? What if ten more people like Frances decided to visit the E.R. for their scrapes and scratches? They’d never have time or space to deal with the heart attacks, the broken bones or the car wrecks.

Would turning a blind eye signal that she was a pushover for a heartwarming story or a special case? The argument could be made that every person coming through the doors had special circumstances necessitating unusual solutions.

Can’t you be flexible for once in your life?

David’s voice whispered the last question and she instinctively stiffened. Unfortunately, his concept of flexibility had been his excuse for taking advantage of every opportunity that had come his way—opportunities that had covered everything from his business activities to moral decisions.

She’d always prided herself on meeting the needs of her patients, so how was this any different? If Frances had been one of her regular clients, would she have chosen differently than Trey and his staff had?

She let out a breath and nodded. “Let’s see Frances.”

Before she could take a step forward, he stopped her.

“If it looks like she has something serious, I want you to take over.”

“Why?”

“Because if I’m busy holding her hand to keep her calm, I can’t do my doctor thing.”

She chuckled at his choice of words. “Can’t walk and chew gum at the same time, eh?”

He rolled his eyes melodramatically. “Ah, now she makes a joke.”

“Sorry,” she said, unrepentant, “I couldn’t help it. Okay, we’ll do it your way. I’ll examine her while you play nursemaid. From what I’ve seen so far, you’re pretty good at handholding and sweet-talking.”

His grin was boyishly wicked. “I’m good at other things, too.”

The sudden flare of heat in his eyes spoke of more physical activities—activities that her imagination so unhelpfully supplied in vivid, living color.

If she was going to work with the delectable Dr. D. so closely over the next few months, she really would have to get more sleep. Exhaustion didn’t give her the mental fortitude to rein in her wayward thoughts.

“I’m sure you are,” she said lightly.

Inside the room, Sierra saw the dark-haired woman curled into a fetal position on the bed. Another nurse, Billie, was taking her vital signs.

“Hi, Franny,” Trey said as he approached the bed and immediately took her pulse. “I hear you’re not feeling well today.”

Frances opened her eyes and offered a weak smile. “Hi Dr. D.,” she said in a singsong voice. “My stomach really, really hurts bad. Can you fix it? “

Her childlike question made Sierra wish for the several-hundredth time that medicine could solve the problem of a child’s mind trapped inside an adult body. Not many people could deal effectively with people with learning disabilities, and she carefully watched Trey’s demeanor. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but she was pleasantly surprised to watch him smile benevolently at Frances while he patted her arm and questioned her about her diet.

As he talked, she herself focused on his sinfully thick dark hair, dark eyes and long eyelashes. She’d never studied him up close and personal before, but she understood how he’d developed his reputation of a dreamboat.

Thank goodness she wasn’t taken in by appealing packages.

“I think I was poisoned,” Frances moaned.

“Her temp is one-oh-two,” Billie interjected.

Trey glanced at Sierra, his humor evident in his eyes. “I don’t think you have food poisoning, Frances. But you are sick, which makes me glad I brought our very best doctor to see you. This is Dr. McAllaster.”

Sierra took her cue to come forward. “Hi, Frances.”

Frances gazed at Trey. “She can’t be the best ‘cause you are.”

He chuckled. “Thanks, Franny, but stomachaches are Dr. McAllaster’s specialty. Will you let her examine you?”

Frances apparently was convinced because she slowly nodded. “If you say so.”