The Emergency Doctor's Chosen Wife

“It was OK.” Totally different types of men. Totally different types of situations. “My father and I were never close.”

Thomas watched the play of emotions across her face and wondered if she could really be as open and honest as she appeared to be. That would be such a refreshing change from the women in his social circles.

Leaning over, Gina reached for the seat belt fastener. Instead of releasing it, her fingers seemed to fumble and her hand started to sweat, slipping on the polished metal. “I can’t get it.”

“Let me see,” Thomas said, and reached for the buckle, brushing her hands with his. His strong fingers closed over hers and tugged. The buckle came free, and Gina pulled back.

The close proximity of his head to hers in the narrow confines of the vehicle gave her another tantalizing whiff of his cologne. The man smelled like a dream, and her heart fluttered wildly, reacting in ways she hadn’t reacted to a man in a long time.

“I guess I should go now.” She clutched her backpack to her as if it could protect her from the effect he was having on her. “Thanks again.”

“Well, good night, then. I’ll watch until you’re inside.”

“Thanks…Thomas.” Gina left the car and walked to her front door. She waved as she entered and locked it again behind her. In seconds she heard the car zoom away. She frowned. He wasn’t what she had expected. Taking her home had been out of his way, despite what he had said. He hadn’t had to do that. But she was glad he had.

CHAPTER TWO

AFTER rounds the next day, Thomas decided to visit Mr Jones. His room was across from the nurses’station, and Thomas picked up his chart, but kept an eye on the room. He could see Gina chatting with Mr Jones and an elderly woman Thomas assumed to be Mrs Jones.

Looking through the chart, Thomas read the final test results, which clearly indicated the worst possible news for Mr Jones. He thought about Gina’s desire for more time for the man and was sorry that there was little of it left for Mr Jones. The oncologist’s note indicated severe disease, recommended a few radiation treatments for comfort, but prognosis was poor at this stage. End- stage cancer with metastases in the lymph, lungs and bone. A CAT scan of the brain was negative. At least that was a somewhat positive note.

There were times that Thomas hated being right, and this was one of them. Looking up at Gina as she threw her head back and laughed, he wondered if she knew. Bearing bad news was something he hated, but it was part of the job of being a physician.

Leaving the desk, he approached Mr Jones’s room just as Gina turned. The surprise on her face was obvious, but then there was that impish grin again.

“Hi, Doc. Come on in,” she said, then turned to Mr Jones. “Dr Ferguson is here to see you, Harold.”

“Harold?” Thomas said and stepped into the room, his brows raised at her familiarity with the patient.

“Yep. We’re official friends now,” Gina said. “And this is Elizabeth, his wife.”

“She’s just a delight, Doctor. I feel better just talking to her,” Mr Jones said and patted Gina’s hand.

“I see.” He cleared his throat and assessed Harold’s face. Indeed, he did look more relaxed than he had on admission. Having his wife support him through such a time would help him so much. “I see the oncologist was here. Did he have a talk with you?”

“Yes. He gave me the news you started to last night. All bad. But at my age I don’t think I’m going to be attempting any treatment.” Harold shook his head. “I’ve lived a good life and want to just make the most of the time I have left.” He turned to Elizabeth and they shared an intimate look.

Thomas almost felt an intruder as he watched the loving interaction between them. He watched as Gina looked away, too. There was certainly more to her than met the eye. She wasn’t just a beautiful redhead pretending to be a nurse. That she cared about people was obvious. But was she overstepping her role as a nurse, not holding her own professional boundaries?

“My affairs are in order. Having survived two wars, I figured I was pushing my luck already. Now I just want to go home with Elizabeth and not be in pain.” Harold nodded, reinforcing his own decision.

“That’s right,” Elizabeth said, and wiped her eyes. “None of us live for ever. I want him home with me as long as possible.”

“That sounds like a very good plan,” Thomas agreed. “If there is anything we can do to help you, please, let us know.”

“Gina said you people could set me up with help at home. Now that my pain is almost gone, I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible.” Harold smiled, eager to convince Thomas of his sincerity.

“Home hospice would be a great service. I’m going to drop in and see him now and then,” Gina said, and stood. “Well, I’d better get back to work,” she said. “Doc’s not paying me to sit and talk all day.” She gave Harold’s hand a squeeze. “See you soon.”

Gina and Thomas departed, approaching the elevator in silence. Gina pushed the button and stared at the numbers on the panel. This man made her uncomfortable. Just standing with him, waiting for the ancient elevator, had her stomach churning. Something about him was very attractive to her, but knowing who he was and the type of lifestyle he came from made her squash any attraction that was beginning to form. She reached out to press the button again. “Why is this thing so slow?”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he asked, more convinced than ever that there was more to Gina’s story than she was letting on. Bad marriage? Bad divorce, like him?

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped into it. “Are you OK?” Thomas asked, observing her closely. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and she hugged her arms around her middle.

“I spent quite a bit of time with Mr Jones, and I just need to get back to the ER. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot on my second day here.” Gina shoved her hands into her lab coat and fidgeted in the narrow space. He didn’t want to make her any more uncomfortable than she already was, but there was definitely something bothering her.

“That’s not a problem. It’s been quiet this morning.” He hesitated, then looked at her. “You seem a little on edge, though. Are you sure you’re OK?”

Gina gave him a surprised glance. “What makes you ask that?”

He shrugged. “I read people well.”

“And you’re reading something into me?” She’d only been here two days and already she was falling into the same trap she’d fallen into years ago. No way was that happening again.

Before she could respond, the doors to the elevator opened.

“Gina! Thomas!” Rhonda cried, and motioned for them to hurry. “Trauma coming through the door right now.”

Thomas and Gina raced behind Rhonda. Rhonda ushered the family members away and left just the medical team to work on the patient, a young male who appeared to be about sixteen years of age.

Gina hooked up the cardiac monitor and oxygen and started an IV in his blood-covered hand. Though he was unresponsive she talked to him anyway, telling him what she was doing.

“Who knows what happened?” Thomas asked.

“The mother is here, but she’s pretty upset,” the respiratory therapist said.

“Get her in here,” Thomas said, and placed his stethoscope over the patient’s chest. “We need as much information from her as possible.”

Gina picked up the phone and called the nurses’ station. “We need the mother—now.”

Seconds later Rhonda escorted a woman near hysterics into the trauma room.

“What happened to your son?” Thomas asked, not looking up as he continued to examine his patient.

“I don’t know! Someone dumped him in my driveway looking like this, and I brought him straight here.” She sobbed into her hands. “Is he awake?”

“Not yet,” Rhonda said. “They’re going to be working on him for a while yet.”

“This looks like a gang beating,” Gina said, and shot a glance at the mother. “I’ve seen this in other cities. From what you said last night,” she added to Thomas, “our little town can’t avoid it for ever.”

“My son is not in a gang,” the mother protested, glaring at Gina. “We don’t have gangs here. Hidden Valley is too small.”

“Richmond’s not that far away.” Gina knew it, she’d seen it, and hoped this mother would face her son’s problems quickly. Denial would only get her so far and then she’d have to face it or deal with the consequences down the line.

“No. It can’t be,” she cried, and shook her head. “He’s just a boy.”

“I’m sorry this is such a shock for you. But I just cut off his clothing and found this.” Gina exposed the markings on his deltoid for her to see herself.