The dark-eyed nurse he was holding hostage was sitting next to her friends’ beds when Allen walked into room 403 again, close to four that morning. It had been one of the longest nights of his life.
War. It had been war. The hospital staff fighting against the elements, Mother Nature, and time.
Most of the damage to people that happened in a tornado came from debris and construction materials crushing them. As a trauma surgeon, he was the best qualified to treat those injuries.
As the head of the department, he was needed. If nothing else, just to keep his people going.
He was going to take a few hours to rest, before clocking back in sometime in the early morning. Virat was back after a three-hour break, ready to take over some of the burden, as was Cage. The two of them were going to handle things while Allen and Rafe rested.
He’d gotten ahold of Shelby, finally. Less than thirty minutes earlier, she’d called his phone. He’d been lucky to have signal. She hadn’t spoken directly to him but had left a message.
Shelby was ok.
His sister had slightly injured her leg—according to her own report—and her condo had lost part of its roof, but her unit was unaffected. As was his, a few blocks down. She had been able to get a ride to the house she’d inherited from Logan instead. She and a few friends were going to stay there for the night, as it was closer to wherever she’d been with her friend Daryn, before making themselves useful in the morning. Shelby had volunteer search-and-rescue training, though she’d only been in the field a few times; her closest friend’s father had been a former search-and-rescue supervisor with the TSP.
After what had happened to Shelby when she’d been an undergrad, Allen had encouraged her learning from that man. It had given her a sense of agency in a time she’d desperately needed it. Shown her that not all TSP were evil. That was a lesson he half suspected his sister still needed to learn.
Allen was going to head there and see his sister for himself as soon as he could.
After he checked on Izzie, Annie, and Nikkie Jean. He hadn’t gotten many chances to swing by. To see Nikkie Jean for himself. No one really knew what had happened to her out there tonight. Just that she had been found unconscious near city hall and hadn’t fully surfaced yet. She’d been carried to FCGH by a doctor from County who had found her in the rubble. His fear for her safety had shifted to concern because of her condition.
She should have wakened by now.
There was no sign of physical trauma causing this condition anywhere. Allen had ordered another round of blood tests, but the lab had been partially destroyed, and half the technicians had been injured.
That seriously hindered the hospital’s effectiveness. FCGH’s people were on it. Those that had been off shift had already shown up and were trying to salvage the lab as best they could.
“What are you doing out of bed?” he asked Izzie.
“I’m holding down this chair, Dr. Jacobson.” Izzie had a snark that he hadn’t missed before in their few interactions. But now, it was far more concentrated—and aimed in his direction. “What does it look like I’m doing, yoga?”
She looked at Annie, and the worry was written right there for him to see. Then she turned toward the other woman’s bed. She had put the chair right between the two, where she could be next to them. The two beds that were normally in the room had been moved closer together by orderlies in order to fit a third bed in. The same had been done on every floor they could.
Rafe ran a well-oiled machine. People had known what they were supposed to do.
Most of them had done it.
What she needed to be doing was resting in the bed the orderlies had put in there by the rear wall. Annie and Nikkie Jean weren’t exactly going anywhere.
“Staring. Worrying. Making yourself sick, imagining the what-ifs. They are going to be ok. Annie has no signs of infection, and the damage will heal. Nikkie Jean is most likely finally napping.” He knew it had to be more than that, but he couldn’t stand the fear in big brown eyes. “We all know that she’s like a kid on sugar. Go, go, go. Crash!”
“Annie will wake worried. About her kids and her house. Nikkie Jean will wake unable to see much and afraid.” Nikkie Jean, who suffered from low-vision challenges, had been brought in without her glasses. They’d been lost in the wind.
“And you? Where do you live?” He didn’t know much about her at all. For the first time, he wondered why.
How had he missed knowing who she was? Their paths had crossed before. He even vaguely recalled discussing her with Logan once or twice. Allen wondered about who she was and what she saw the world as.
Usually when he saw her, she was working at a breakneck speed, mostly on shifts opposite his. Or with Nikkie Jean, doing things together. Maybe that was it—their paths hadn’t crossed that often during the course of a day. They rarely even worked the same shift. That was the only explanation.
Otherwise, Allen would have noticed her long before.
“I share an apartment with my uncle near here. I called a neighbor. We had some broken glass, but the building is fine. No injuries to my neighbors, either.”
“Good.” He stepped up to her and took the hand that was holding Annie’s in his own. He checked her pulse quickly, clipped the pulse oximeter onto her finger, and waited. Her knuckles were scraped. “You’re up to 91 percent, at least. That’s two points since last time. Your body’s good at compensating.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve always been an overachiever. I’m a straight 95 percent kind of girl.”
“You’re very snarky, Nurse Izzie. Doesn’t that ever annoy people?” He’d always appreciated a snarky sense of humor. This woman had it in spades. Apparently, his initial impressions of her being a bit quiet had been wrong. She was strong, kind, compassionate, and fierce—and dependable in a crisis.
“It does. Why do you think I do it?” She ruined the effect with a yawn. She’d changed into a hospital gown. Pale, skinny legs peeked out from the bottom of it. Thick socks covered her small feet. He wondered where they’d come from. There were matching socks on Annie and Nikkie Jean as well. One of the shift supervisors’ doing. FCGH people did have a habit of taking care of their own. “Thanks for the free bed for the night, though. Really appreciate it.”
The bed she wasn’t using. He resisted shooting a glare at it. He motioned for her to lean forward. He listened to her lungs for a moment. “You are still not where I want you to be. Who knows what was in that plaster you breathed in tonight.”
“Hey, I’m doing good for me, Doc. All things considered. I have an appointment with Dr. Kassower in two weeks, anyway. I go every six months like clockwork and get the same results.”
He frowned. That allergist had a reputation for being a bit outdated, and was affiliated with County. Allen didn’t know much more than that. “So this is normal?”
“The dust and debris didn’t help. I’ve had better days, I’ll admit. I’ve also had worse.” She shot him a look from large dark eyes. A look full of secrets. Memories. A look that had him wanting to know so much more. “This is the first time a colleague has held me captive at the hospital because of it after an F4—or 5—tornado, though.”
“Hey, anytime. I always aim for originality. Breathe in for me, one more time.” He pressed the stethoscope against her back and listened. When that was finished, he ran a few more quick tests before he was satisfied. She was a professional; she’d know when to seek help, if needed. “Do what you’re told tonight, and I’ll let you out of here in the morning. After you rest. In the actual bed. You aren’t helping either of them sitting there.”
“Can I work? I’m needed here, Jacobson. You can’t miss that. Cherise needs every hand on deck, especially until Wanda makes it back from Arizona.”
“I know. Modified duty, or I send you out on medical leave until after that appointment with your allergist. Understood?”
She stared at him. He pointed at the bed. The staring continued. As did the pointing.
“Fine. I’m not stupid. I don’t see the point in all of this. I could have gone home and taken my meds myself. I do appreciate being put in here with Annie and Nik, though. So thanks for that.” She climbed in the bed and grabbed the blankets. Glaring at him the entire time. Despite everything that had happened, Allen had to fight a smile.
It was the socks that did it. Ruined the entire effect she was after.
“Don’t thank me. I’d say Cherise had a hand in that.”
“No doubt.” She yawned again. He straightened the blankets over her. After one last look at Annie’s and Nikkie Jean’s stats, he started for the door. He had another woman to track down and make certain she was recovering and home where she was supposed to be. His sister was a quiet woman, but no less determined than the one watching him now.
“Hey, Jacobson?” Izzie said his name quietly as he made notes in her chart.
He turned to look at her. A curly lock of dark-brown hair was sticking straight up on top of her head. He fought a smile. That hair told him everything he needed to know about the woman. She defied everything apparently. Just like that hair. “Yes?”
“Thanks, by the way. For keeping me company during that little storm we had. Nice not to go through all of that alone.”
No kidding. “Yeah. You, too.”
He was about ready to say something else when someone walked in the door, pulling his attention away from her.