Deliver Me (8 page)

Before Eli knew what had happened, she was gone.

***

Monica apologized as she backed out of the wrong office and shut the door
behind her. It was the second time she’d made that mistake.

It’s not that she didn’t know her way to the chief of staff’s
office—it was the one place most familiar to her other than the ER. It’s
just that she had a hard time concentrating. After her encounter with Eli
Holmes, her brain seemed to have taken the afternoon off.

Face it, the brain’s
completely fried
.

Monica hated that he had that affect on her. Her senses became more
scrambled every time she got near him, which had occurred way too often these
past few days.

It had taken her a while to remember where she had seen him before, but
when he’d smiled at her back in the conference room Monica had realized he was
the good looking guy from the elevator the day she’d come for her interview. He’d
been dressed casually that day, slacks and a light-colored shirt. She
remembered the way he’d smelled, like expensive cologne. She could recall with
amazing alacrity the electrified tingle that shot through her blood when she
was forced to lean her body flushed against his in the close confines of the
crowded elevator. She had been fully aware of him that day. And the awareness
was back with a vengeance.

Monica had hoped he was just visiting someone when she’d seen him in the
elevator—preferably his wife and newborn baby. She knew from experience
those men held no appeal whatsoever.

But, Dr. Holmes didn’t have a wife or a child—as far as any of the
nurses in the ER knew.

His heroics from the week before, when he’d found a pregnant teen and
delivered her baby in a car, was still all the buzz around the hospital. Talk
of his drop dead gorgeous looks and incredibly fit body soon followed any
conversation where his name happened to surface. In the few days she’d worked
the ER, Monica had heard that name at least a half dozen times.

Now that she’d gotten a dose of Elijah Holmes, Monica completely
understood the hype around him. As her sixteen-year-old sister, Ashley, would
say, the good doctor was all that and a bag of chips.

Not that she was in the mood for snacking. She was not going to renege on
the promise she’d made to herself. No men. Not right now. Her breakup with
Patrick was still too raw.

After another five minutes of ducking into the wrong doorways, Monica
realized she was on the wrong floor.

Her mind was
really
screwed up
today.

She tried to place the blame for her scattered brain on this morning’s
call from the lawyer of the woman she’d rear-ended Monday, although if she
stopped kidding herself, she could admit to the real reason behind it. The real
reason was six-foot three with an impeccable build and a heart-stopping face.

Why was she so weak when it came to men?

She bypassed the elevators and hurriedly made it down the flight of
stairs. Dr. Slessinger was coming out of his office.

“There you are,” he said. “I was just on my way to look for you.”

“Sorry,” Monica said as she walked through the door he held open for her.
“I’m still learning my way around the hospital.”

“That’s quite understandable.”

Monica only had time for a cursory glance of the spacious office before
her gaze stopped directly on Elijah Holmes.

“I hope you don’t mind my inviting Dr. Holmes to join us.”

Oh no. He was not on the banquet committee. Life could not be this cruel.

“Having worked with Dr. Millgram for years, he’s a veteran at putting on
an outstanding charity banquet. I’m sure Eli is more than willing to help you
along.”

Eli’s mouth tilted up in an amazingly sexy smile.

“I trust I’m not speaking out of turn, Elijah.”

“Not at all,” Eli answered. “No use in Dr. Gardner reinventing the wheel.
We can go over what the banquet committee has done the last few years and build
upon the things that have worked.”

“Excellent,” Slessinger clapped his hands together. He went around his
desk and sat in the leather chair. “I’m really excited about the two of you
working together. Being of the younger, hipper generation you can add a
different perspective, something to draw in the younger crowd and get them
interested in doing charity work. And,” he hesitated.

“What?” Eli asked.

“Well,” Dr. Slessinger pulled his glasses off and started wiping the lens
with the tail end of his white coat. “There’s something else.” His voice had
lost some of its jolliness. He looked uneasily at Eli then at her, before
blowing out a huge puff of air. Monica was instantly on guard.

“What is it?” Eli asked, the urgency in his voice telling her that he’d
latched onto the uncertainty suddenly radiating from the chief of staff.

“The Parenting Center,” Will Slessinger finally admitted. “The state has
threatened to cut the program.”

“What?” Eli asked, his hands poised on the armrest of his chair, as if he
were seconds from jumping out of it.

“The word came down yesterday. Apparently, the state believes its revamp
of sex education courses in the area high schools will help curb teenage births
enough to negate the need for the Parenting Center.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s the stupidest line of reasoning I’ve
ever heard in my life. If the state thinks handing out a few condoms in health
class will actually lower the number of pregnancies we see then some of
them
need to go back to school.”

The passion emanating from Eli was tangible. It was clear to Monica this
was a subject close to his heart.

“What about all the people who use the program who are not teenage
mothers? What about the young couples just starting out who can’t afford
private physicians? With Charity Hospital still closed, these people have
nowhere to go.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Eli. I wish you were at the state capital
pleading our case to the people making the decisions.”

“Well, someone needs to. There’s no way they can shut down the Parenting
Center, Will.”

“There is a way we can prevent it,” Dr. Slessinger said. His calmly
spoken words were apparently enough to soothe Eli’s raised hackles. The younger
doctor pushed back in his chair.

“How?” he asked.

Dr. Slessinger flexed his fingers several times before folding his hands
on his desk. When he spoke, it was with weary agitation, as if he was only at
the beginning of what promised to be a lengthy battle. “The Board of Health and
Hospitals has agreed to keep the program in next year’s budget if we can fund
it for the remainder of this fiscal year.”

“That’s our only option? Raising the money ourselves?”

“I know it’s a long shot, Eli, but at least it’s something.”

In the midst of their debate, Monica found herself focusing not on their
words, but their tone. This was not your typical superior and subordinate
conversation. It was obvious Dr. Slessigner respected Eli on a deeper level
than most chiefs of staff held for their attending physicians. It also
confirmed what she’d suspected over the last few days. Elijah Holmes had not
only made a name for himself in the delivery room, he’d earned the admiration
of his peers—something Monica knew, firsthand, was very hard to do.

Eli was shaking his head. “There’s no way we can raise the kind of money
we would need to keep the center going for the rest of the year. The cost in
prenatal vitamins alone is in the thousands. The fate of the center cannot
hinge on a banquet that has only pulled in, at best, five grand. And that’s
during normal times. With everyone still trying to put their lives back together
after Katrina, we would be lucky to bring in our usual amount, let alone enough
to fund the center.”

“That’s why I need the two of you to really put your heads together on
this.” Slessinger turned to Monica, finally bringing her back into the
conversation. “I know this is an awful lot to ask with you just taking over Dr.
Millgram’s position, but the Parenting Center is vital to this community. It’s
all many expectant mothers have around here.”

Monica glanced at Eli. He sat slouched in his chair, staring at something
on the far wall. His brow had a distinguishable crease, visible evidence of his
frustration.

“As a member of this staff, I have a vested interest in the well being of
this community, Dr. Slessinger. I’m confident we can raise enough money to keep
the Parenting Center running,” Monica finished.

Elijah straightened and turned to her. “This is a state-run hospital. We
don’t have the same donors as the fancy private hospital you probably worked at
before coming here.”

“I worked at a university hospital, which was funded by the state of
Missouri,” Monica clarified.

A shadow of annoyance floated across his face. “I’m just trying to be
realistic here. The event’s past supporters have been the people who live in
this community, and I can guarantee attending some hospital banquet is not high
on their priority list this year.”

“Then we take it out of the community. The entire city can be in on it,”
Monica countered.

“Did I mention the time constraint?” Slessinger interjected. “The Board
of Health and Hospitals isn’t on the same fiscal calendar as the rest of the
state departments. Funding for this year ceases at the end of the year. We have
to have our proof of payment by the end of November. We have a little over
three months to pull this off.”

“Forget it.” Eli bounded from the chair.

“No,” Monica said. “This can be done.”

The beeper in the breast pocket of his scrubs went off. Eli unclipped it
and read the small LCD readout. “It’s OB.” He looked over at Dr. Slessinger. “I
don’t know what to tell you, Will. Millgram worked like a dog on this banquet
every year, and the amount he cleared would hardly pay for the center’s
utilities.”

“Just think on it, Eli. We can’t let the center go down without a fight.”

The beeper sounded again. “I have to go,” he said. “The last thing I want
to see is the Parenting Center close, but unless we can pull off a miracle, we
need to start informing patients that they’ll need to look for alternative
care.”

He left the office and a heavy feeling remained: the foreboding scent of
doom was acrid in the confined space. Dr. Slessinger rested his fingertips on
his lips, and sighed. “I hate to admit it, but he’s right. I need to accept the
fact that the center is going to close.”

“No, it won’t.” Monica said.

This banquet was her golden ticket, the opportunity she’d been hoping
for. Her skills in the emergency room may get her foot in the door, but after
being passed over countless times back in St. Louis, Monica knew being a good
doctor would only take her so far. Those who went the extra mile, who presented
the whole package, were the doctors who became a part of the team.

So what if her personal life was boring as hell? Being at the top of her
profession more than made up for it. And if she really wanted to make the kind
of impression that got
her
name on a
parking spot, she needed to save the day, or in this case, Methodist Memorial’s
Parenting Center.

She could do this. She had worked on campaign fundraisers for Patrick’s
father. Raising money, even during hard times, could be done if you took a
clever approach.

Monica refused to let Slessinger’s enthusiasm die, not when he’d just
delivered her way into the old boy’s club on a silver platter. “I don’t care
what it takes,” Monica said, fierce determination etched in her words. “I won’t
let them shut the door to the Parenting Center.”

For the third time, Jeffrey placed the cellophane-wrapped roses back in
the refrigerated display case, then took them out and put them in his shopping
cart. He looked at the price sticker and almost returned them to the cooler
again. It was an expense he could not afford, but with so much at stake, he was
willing to pay the price.

He’d do just about anything to get Amanda back.

Jeffrey maneuvered his cart around a fresh fruit display and made his way
to the refrigerated shelves, picking up a sealed container of fresh melons
cubes. It seemed like a healthy dessert. Tonight he wanted to surprise Amanda
with a meal she couldn’t resist.

The instructions from Dr. Holmes said she needed to increase her iron
intake to help with the anemia. He studied packages of plastic encased meats,
trying to decide between beefsteaks and boneless chicken breasts.

Wait. Didn’t he hear somewhere that fish was a good source of iron?

He moved over to the seafood department. Studying the selection behind
the clear display, Jeffrey asked for a couple of grouper fillets. He would make
his special tartar sauce, and steam a few fresh vegetables for a side dish.

Carrots.

Amanda loved carrots. She could do amazing things with them when she was
in a playful, sexy mood.