Lightning Strikes

Dr. Sloane was clearly upset. “I…turned my back just for a second. That’s when I heard that terrible noise and knew he was having a seizure.”

Amanda issued orders. “Get something to put into his mouth so he won’t swallow his tongue.”

While that was being taken care of, Amanda used her tiny light and peered into his eyes. They were rolled up toward the top of his head.

“Harold! What’s wrong with my husband?”

Ignoring the frantic voice behind her, Amanda gave another order. Within seconds, Harold settled down, but was soon wheeled to X-ray for extensive testing.

She turned then and looked at the white-faced and pregnant young woman who hovered inside the room next to the door. One of the ER nurses on duty, Liz Roberts, stood beside her.

After letting the woman see that her husband was sleeping peacefully, Amanda asked her to sit down, then told her what had happened.

“Oh, God,” the woman whispered, tears filling her eyes. “Is…is he going to die?”

An alarm went off in Amanda’s head. “Why do you ask that?”

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Amanda asked, the alarm blaring.

“He…he has epilepsy.”

“Why wouldn’t he have told us?”

The woman bit down on her lower lip and looked scared out of her wits. “Because he’s like that. Always puts on a happy face so he won’t have to miss work.” Tears spilled from her eyes. “You…you see, we don’t have much money, and I’m not able to work, with the baby coming and all.”

She was sobbing in earnest now, and Amanda said, “He’s going to be all right. You dry those tears and soon I’ll let you see him. Meanwhile, Liz will accompany you to the waiting room. If need be, we’ll talk later.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” she said with a gulp.

After leaving orders to be kept apprised of Harold’s condition, Amanda checked on two other patients who remained under observation, then went back to her office, where she realized she was trembling.

Those two young people had gotten to her. One of these days, she feared, she was going to get tough and not care. If that ever happened, she would turn in her license. An uncaring doctor wasn’t worth his salt.

Sitting at her desk, Amanda placed her head in her hands, only to flinch as another streak of lightning danced across the sky, followed by a mean rumble of thunder. Would this mess ever stop? she wondered, feeling more and more uneasy by the minute. Bad weather usually had no affect on her, maybe because she was used to dealing with crises. Possibly her childhood had as much to do with that as being a doctor, for it had been as traumatic and vicious as this storm.

But she knew why her nerves were seemingly resting on the outside of her skin. Noah. There was a God, however, as she hadn’t yet encountered Noah face-to-face. But then, she’d made it a point not to see him, though it hadn’t been easy. She was lucky she hadn’t passed him in the hall, or worse, ended up sitting beside him in a staff meeting.

Of course, she hadn’t avoided him because she still cared. She didn’t. Noah had destroyed her love by his flagrant violation of her feelings. Not only that, he’d undermined her newfound trust in the opposite sex.

“Don’t do this to yourself!” Amanda whispered, taking a deep breath, which somewhat slowed her racing heart. She’d made a new life for herself. That was the key to survival.

She had found a new man.

Gordon Bishop was a woman’s dream come true, a man who knew how to love a woman, and he did love her. He was an investment broker with a fat bank account, although that wasn’t important to her. Though not wealthy, she made a good living and could do most anything she wanted, except set up her own practice. That would take megabucks, which she did not have.

The most notable and important thing about Gordon was that he not only loved her but wanted to marry her. Although she didn’t love him like he loved her, a fact she hadn’t kept a secret because she was unwilling to be anything other than up-front, she nevertheless wanted to take that leap of faith and marry him.

She was scared, admitting that Noah’s cavalier desertion of her had left deep scars. Gordon, however, was as different from Noah as daylight from dark. She knew she could trust Gordon beyond all doubt. And that trust did not come easy. It hadn’t then and didn’t now. Her tumultuous upbringing had seen to that.

Amanda sighed, hating the fact that she continued to beat up on herself, asking instead why she didn’t rush back to the ER where her mind and emotions would be focused on her patients and their needs.

Nothing doing. She didn’t move. The past held her down, insisting on resurrecting itself. Instead of Noah and that cold, foreign look in his eyes, she saw her mother’s empty, angry ones. Tears gathered in Amanda’s eyes, almost blinding her.

Funny, she didn’t realize she had any more tears to cry.

When it came to her childhood, she guessed there would always be tears along with baggage that she couldn’t drop. Even as much as she’d loved Noah, there had been moments when her mother’s brutal words still haunted her.

“That son of a bitch is gone,” her mother had told her five minutes before she was to catch the school bus.

Her six-year-old mind had grappled to understand what Mary Jennings had meant. “You mean Daddy?”

“Yes, ‘Daddy,’” she mimicked with a sneer.

“Where…where’s he gone to?” Amanda stammered, her eyes wide and innocent.

“How the hell should I know?” Her mother’s features twisted into an ugly frown. “What I do know is that he’s not gittin’ back in this house.”

“Oh, Mama, no,” Amanda cried, clutching her satchel against her chest. “Daddy has to come back. He just has to.”

“You stop that whining, you hear me, or I’ll take a belt to your backside.”

“Mama!”

“He’s gone! He ain’t never coming back. He’s a no-good drunk who told me this morning he didn’t want you or me.”

“But he loves me!”

Mary made an unladylike snort. “He don’t love you. He don’t love either one of us, never has, never will.”

Amanda choked back her sobs.

“Hush that up. You might as well learn right now that you can’t trust men. They’re a sorry lot, and they want women for only one thing.”

“But, Mama—”

The school bus arrived at that moment, and the driver honked the horn, ruthlessly ending that conversation. But Mary Jennings was right—Amanda’s daddy never returned home.

Though her mother continued to harp on the untrustworthiness of men, she couldn’t seem to stay away from them. During the remaining years of Amanda’s childhood, both parents married numerous times. She had several brothers and sisters—some were half siblings, the others were step—and the brunt of raising three of them had fallen to her.

Amanda shuddered, recalling the years that had followed, years that had exposed her to unnecessary heartache and made her grow up much faster than she should have.

She’d had no one to depend on but herself. Only through working night and day, along with the help of scholarships, had she been able to reach her dream of becoming a doctor.

And despite her dysfunctional family life and the emotional distrust of men, she was a damn good doctor. She would put her skills up against anyone and come out just fine.

As to her birth parents—they were no longer a burden. They were both dead, having died within a year of each other—her mother from cancer and her daddy from a cerebral hemorrhage. She had been in medical school, away from them and her extended family, whom she now saw only on special occasions as they all lived in various states.