A Christmas to Remember (10 page)

“He looks like a movie star,” Charlotte whispered.

Lillian didn’t answer. He did look like a movie star. But she would be the last one to admit it.

Oliver smiled when Lillian met his eyes, his dimples creasing his lean cheeks. “Morning, ladies. How was church?”

“I found the sermon very interesting,” Lillian said.

“I couldn’t follow a word,” Charlotte admitted. “Too much talk.”

Oliver laughed. “That’s just the trouble with church, I’ve always found.”

Lillian frowned and pulled her gloves on. “Well, nice seeing you, Oliver. Have a pleasant day.” She turned to Charlotte, urging her with her eyes to continue on their way.

But Charlotte wouldn’t budge, standing her ground like a little toy poodle in a stubborn snit. Lillian glared at her. Charlotte ignored her.

“I would offer to drive you both home, but my car only has room for one,” Oliver apologized.

“Take Lily. Please. She was complaining about the heat. I don’t think she should be out in this hot sun.”

“I wasn’t complaining about anything,” Lillian said.

“She’s so stoic,” Charlotte explained. “I have to go back to church anyway. I promised my mother I would stay with her for the coffee hour.” Charlotte turned to Lillian. “You go on with Oliver, Lily. Don’t be so stubborn.”

“Come on, Lillian.” Oliver opened the passenger door and made a sweeping gesture. “Let me be your chauffeur today. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

Half-resentful, half-willing, Lillian stepped toward the car and slipped into the front seat. Oliver closed the door and smiled down at her, pleased to have finally gotten his way. So much for all her efforts to avoid him.

Southport Hospital, Present-day

L
UCY STOOD BESIDE
M
ARGARET
S
HERMAN AND WATCHED AS HER
supervisor checked the flow of liquid dripping through the IV line then checked the point of insertion on the patient’s arm. “Please stop fiddling with that catheter, Mr. Krall. I don’t want you to pull it off again.”

“It itches,” said Mr. Krall, a man in his seventies.

“Bates will bring you some cream. Just don’t pull it out again,” she warned in an even sterner tone.

He leaned back against his pillows and clicked on his TV set. “I shouldn’t even be here. I’m not sick. My wife runs me into the emergency room if I so much as burp.”

“Your doctor should be by in a little while. He’ll let you know what’s going on.”

Mr. Krall had arrived on the floor that morning, and Lucy hadn’t a chance to check his chart. “Does he have a stomach problem?” Lucy asked after they left the room.

“Upper GI. I would be surprised if it’s not the gall bladder. He’s got all the classic symptoms. Learn to read the chart when you enter a room.”

Margaret Sherman was brusque and impersonal. She had been supervising Lucy for almost three days and had done nothing but issue curt instructions. But Lucy knew she could learn a lot from her. The woman could look into a patient’s eyes and tell if their
medication level was off. Just this morning, she had called a code on a patient who was going into diabetic shock, catching it just in time. Lucy wondered if she would ever be as knowing and capable as Margaret Sherman, if she would ever be as confident.

Since the unfortunate incident with Helen Carter, Margaret had been watching Lucy closely. Lucy knew her supervisor didn’t trust her, but in a way, she didn’t mind the scrutiny. After her little scare, she didn’t entirely trust herself.

Next, Lucy was sent out with a medication cart. Lucy found this fairly easy. Though some patients were stubborn about taking pills and others asked all kinds of questions about what she was giving them, most swallowed whatever was in the cup.

The last two days Lucy had been kept busy with simple tasks: bringing patients their medication, taking temperatures and blood pressure, helping patients get mobile again after surgery.

Luckily, there had been no more mishaps. Most of the patients seemed to like her. She had been afraid at first to be too friendly or chatty, but most patients looked for a kind, reassuring word. That was part of her job, too, a part she was naturally good at.

Lucy was rolling the medication cart down the corridor when she noticed Jack Zabriskie walking toward her with another doctor. This was the first time she had seen him since they talked. She wasn’t sure why, but she suddenly felt her heart race; if she had been hooked to a monitor, an alarm would have gone off. She felt her cheeks flush. She was a redhead and blushed easily, for no reason at all. And this was no reason, she reminded herself.

What in the world is wrong with me? I think the pressure’s putting me over the edge….

She ducked her head, hoping he wouldn’t see her.

“Lucy? Hey, how’s it going?” he called out.

“Just fine. Uh…see you.”

She picked up her pace and walked past quickly. The med cart rattled wildly, but she acted as if she didn’t hear it, setting her face in a serious, focused expression.

Back at the nurses’ station, Margaret gave Lucy her next assignment. “Go down to Room 203. The patient had an invasive test yesterday. We want her sitting in a chair for a while, then walking down the hall if she’s able. Think you can handle it?”

Lucy drew in a sharp breath. Didn’t Margaret realize that was Helen Carter’s room? Something in her gray-blue eyes told Lucy she did. She was doing this on purpose.

“Do you have a question?” Margaret prompted her.

“No, no questions.” Lucy turned and headed for the room.

Lucy reached the door to Room 203 and nearly lost her nerve. But she knew she had to at least try. Bracing herself, she knocked on the doorjamb then walked in.

The shades were drawn again, the room dark. Helen Carter sat up against the pillows. Her eyes widened as she recognized Lucy.

“Ms. Carter, I’m here to help you up out of bed. You need to get up and sit in a chair awhile.”

“Really? Why?”

Lucy was stumped but only momentarily. “So that you don’t get bed sores or pneumonia. And to keep your circulation moving…”

“All right. I get your point.”

Lucy walked over to the bed, feeling she had won the first round. She got the patient to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the bed. Then Lucy put her slippers on her feet.

“You might feel a little light-headed. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll help you to that chair.”

“I’m ready now,” Helen said. Lucy helped her slip down off the bed and held her arm as she took a few steps across the room to
the chair. Then she helped Helen sit down and stuck a pillow behind her back for support.

Helen took a deep breath. “I do feel better getting up.”

“Good.” Lucy willed herself to keep her naturally chatty tendencies under control. She straightened the bedding and then brought in a fresh pitcher of ice water, feeling very self-conscious.

Helen Carter must have been thinking of the spill, too. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said abruptly.

Lucy looked up at her, surprised. “You don’t have to apologize. I understand.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Helen pulled the shade aside and glanced out the window.

Margaret peered in. “Everything okay in here?”

“Just fine,” Lucy said.

Margaret took another look around the room then left Lucy on her own again. Lucy was relieved. Her supervisor had been breathing down her neck the last few days. It was a relief to do one thing on her own.

Lucy cleaned off the bedside cart, removing an empty box of tissues. She wiped it off and put back Helen’s belongings, a book and a photograph that showed Helen with two teenage girls. There was no question they were her daughters.

“Are those your girls? They’re very lovely.”

Helen nodded. “Thank you.”

“How old are they?” Lucy picked up a pillow and gave it a good shake.

“Nineteen and twenty-one. They’re both away at college. Robin is at Amherst and Julie is at MIT.”

“You must be very proud.”

“They’re good students,” Helen admitted. Then after a long
moment she added, “They don’t know I’m in the hospital. I didn’t want to worry them.”

“That must be hard for you,” Lucy said honestly.

Helen frowned and turned her face away. Lucy wondered if she had spoken out of turn and made Helen angry again. Then she realized Helen was upset; her eyes were glossy and she wiped them quickly with a tissue.

“I don’t know how to tell them I’m sick,” she said quietly. “Their father and I are divorced, a long time now. He sends his checks, but he doesn’t take any real interest in the girls. He has a new family with young children. I’m all they really have. If anything happens to me…” Helen covered her face with her hand, and her body shook with silent sobs.

Lucy wasn’t sure what to do. She walked over, put her arm around Helen’s shoulder and leaned toward her. “I’m very sorry.”

Helen cried quietly then took a quick, shuddering breath. She pushed Lucy gently away. “You can go now. Please.”

Lucy stepped back. “Would you like to get back in bed?”

“Not just yet.”

“All right. Someone will come in a few minutes to help you. Don’t try to get back on your own, promise?”

“Yes, I promise. Now, please, just go. I’d like to be alone.”

Lucy felt uneasy leaving her but had little choice. She returned to the front desk and told Margaret that Helen wanted to stay out of bed for a while longer.

The older nurse glanced at her watch. “All right. I’ll send someone in to check on her. I need you to work on the supply closet. We just got a delivery that needs to be recorded and stored.”

Lucy had learned in school that nurses nowadays rarely had to fill the supply closet or do many of the lowly jobs that they used to
be responsible for. But once in a while there was an emergency, and the scut work would naturally fall to the lowest one in the pecking order. Namely, her.

“Is there some problem?” Margaret stared at her.

“Not at all.”

Lucy headed off to the closet, a narrow space with cupboards lining the walls on either side, now completely jammed with cartons of new supplies.

She had barely gotten started when Margaret appeared, filling the doorway with her large frame.

“Yes? Do you need me for something?” Lucy jumped up, stumbling over a carton of rubber gloves.

“There’s a call for you, your husband. Says it’s an emergency.” Margaret sighed audibly and stalked back down the hallway.

Lucy wasn’t allowed to have her cell phone on while she worked, but she checked her messages frequently, especially after three o’clock when the kids got home from school.

She had specifically asked Charlie and the boys not to call her at the hospital unless it was an emergency. She knew Margaret Sherman didn’t approve when staff took personal calls at the nursing station. Especially the students.

She rushed down the hall to answer the call, hoping nothing was seriously wrong. She picked up the phone. “Charlie?” she asked breathlessly. “What’s wrong?”

“Jamie’s sick. The school nurse called. She says he has a fever and somebody needs to pick him up. I got my hands full here, Lucy. You need to get him.”

“I can’t leave, Charlie. My shift isn’t over until tonight.”

“Well, just tell somebody your kid’s sick and go. What’s the big deal?”

Lucy tried to hold onto her patience. “Charlie, be reasonable. It will take me at least an hour to get back to Cape Light, maybe more with the traffic. You’re five minutes away.”

“Don’t you tell me to be reasonable. You be reasonable. I’ll have to bring him back here. I can’t bring a sick kid into the diner.”

Lucy wracked her brain for an alternative. She knew her mother couldn’t help; she might be able to come later, but she couldn’t leave her job.

“Maybe Jimmy can come in early and cover for a few hours,” Lucy suggested. Jimmy was their extra cook, who often managed the diner at night.

“Jimmy’s here already.”

Now she was really annoyed. “So? What’s the problem?” Lucy didn’t want to raise her voice or stay on the line any longer arguing about this. The other nurses at the desk were already glancing at her.

“The problem is, it isn’t my place to get stuck at home, with a sick kid. I have work to do. I’m the only one bringing in a dollar these days,” he reminded her.

Lucy could have screamed—partly because what he said was true—but she forced her voice into a calm, firm tone. “I’m not leaving, Charlie. You can handle it. You have to. Your son is sick and I’m too far away to help. You know that.”

“Lucy, for crying out loud…” Charlie’s words were garbled in a low, growling sound. Then he didn’t say anything. Lucy wasn’t even sure if he was still there. Had he hung up on her?

What if he brought Jamie back to the diner? The child would be miserable hanging around all afternoon. Would Charlie dare do that to his own boy just to show her?