Chapter Four

WITH SHAKING HANDS, CANDACE CRENSHAW fumbled in her purse for money to pay the cafeteria attendant for a tall cup of black coffee. Hopefully the brew would calm her shattered nerves.

Tears edged near the surface. She’d thought she was ready to be on the code blue team. Today proved her wrong. She’d barely been able to function. One look at Dr. Hamilton lying on the floor, being stripped, poked and prodded nearly broke her heart. The images yanked her back three years as flashbacks of Dean flooded her mind, making it impossible to focus on her duties. Her husband had died from a brain aneurism, leaving her with two small children to rear.

But she couldn't think about that now. She had to get beyond the grief and move on. Time and again she thought she’d done just that, only to have it surface again.

Heath Carlson from Radiology, also part of the code blue team, had noticed her distress right away. He’d led her to a chair and told her to sit down. “I’ll take over for you,” he’d said. He’d done that and more. The ordeal was over now; but for Candace, shreds of panic still remained.

Why is it so hard to forget? Why do the flashbacks keep coming back? Candace wished she knew.

With the trauma resolved, Heath had ushered her to the cafeteria. Now, he came up behind her with his coffee and a pastry and offered to pay for her coffee as well.

She started to refuse, then gave in. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back later.”

“My treat.”

Her cheeks warmed at the kind gesture. With all the crazy feelings churning her insides at the sight of Dr. Hamilton, she didn't trust herself to speak. Part of her wanted Heath to leave her alone so she could process the series of events on her own. Candace feared his soft gaze would send her into a full-scale crying jag. Lord knew she’d had enough of those.

Another part of her was thankful for his presence. They had met when she had helped his sister-in-law Chrissy deliver her baby. Candace got to know him briefly when he’d come to see his new nephew.

At five foot ten, Heath was fit and trim with curly golden-blond hair and vivid blue eyes that seemed to read her a bit too easily. His cheeks creased in a smile as they sat down at one of the tables. “Are you sure you don't want anything else?”

“I’m sure.” Though she found Heath attractive, nothing could come of it except, maybe, friendship. She was nowhere near ready for a relationship. They sat in silence for several minutes while Candace drank her coffee and Heath attacked his croissant.

“Thank you.” She appreciated that he didn't try to make small talk while she gathered her frazzled self together.

“You’re welcome.” He grinned again. “You’re looking better. What happened back there?”

“Flashback.” While she had not seen her husband being worked on by the hospital staff, she knew what had happened. Being a nurse made the scenes in her head as real as if she had been there in person.

“Did it have something to do with your husband's death?” He hesitated. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have asked that.”

“It's all right. It did actually have to do with Dean.” She took another sip of coffee. “I should probably resign from the code team. I thought I was ready, but apparently not.”

He set his plate aside. “I know this isn't any of my business, but Chrissy tells me it's been three years since Dean's death. Have you considered seeing a counselor?”

He talked to Chrissy about me? Not that it mattered, everyone associated with the hospital knew. She bent her head and rubbed her forehead. “My mother and sister have suggested that, but honestly, I don't know if it would help. I know grief inside and out. What is a counselor going to tell me that I don't already know?”

“Sometimes,” he said, “we go about the healing all wrong. We try to work things out and figure that if we look good on the outside and are coping, we’re doing okay. But true healing happens from the inside out.”

Candace raised her head and found herself looking into his empathetic blue eyes. “It sounds good, but how does this kind of healing happen?”

“It just does. You open yourself up to it.” He checked at his watch. “I’m sorry. I have to run.” He rose and leaned toward her, hands pressed on the table. “Would you like to meet me for coffee after work? We can talk some more.”

Candace swallowed hard and couldn't quite meet his eyes. “I can’t.”

He pursed his lips and nodded in understanding. “You’ll be okay?”

“Yes. Thanks.” Candace actually didn't feel okay, but she didn't want to concern anyone with her problems. The turmoil she’d suffered off and on since Dean's death threatened to drag her under once again. All she wanted to do was go to bed, pull the covers over her head and sleep for a month.

Thankfully, she had a job; and right now, she needed to get back to the Birthing Unit and her duties there. Candace pushed aside the oppressive thoughts and, after tossing her trash, hurried toward the stairs.

In the lobby, she paused, her gaze taking in the chapel door. Maybe a brief detour there would help her gain perspective. She entered the small room and eased into the back pew. There were six oak pews, all empty at the moment. A plain oak altar drew her attention to the front of the room. Above it, light streamed through the abstract design of a stained-glass window creating colorful images across the room. In the left front corner, a large cross of dark cherry wood stood in the center of a raised platform. At the base, a gentle stream of water circulated over rocks, creating the gentle sound of a babbling brook. Green foliage crowded around the cross and the water's edge.

Candace drew in the beauty and the sound as she prayed once more for strength to carry on. She thought about Heath's comment about healing. “Please, Lord, let me heal from the inside out. I don't want to forget Dean, but I can't go on in this way either.”

James stayed with Dr. Hamilton until CCU called saying they had a bed ready. He personally guided the gurney along the hallway into the service elevator to the second floor and into the Cardiac Care Unit.

The nursing supervisor, Anabelle Scott, and Head Nurse Becky Simms left the nurses’ station and led them into what would be the doctor's room.

Anabelle had paled when James brought him into the unit. He knew how close she was to Dr. Hamilton.

“I’ve assigned Becky to him.” She pinched her lips together as her gaze shifted from James to Dr. Hamilton.

James nodded his approval. “That's good.” Becky was one of their best cardiac nurses. Her experience of ten years in both ER and Coronary Care made her an exceptional choice.

James followed them and helped Anabelle and Becky transfer Dr. Hamilton onto the bed and hook up the monitors.

Doc Hamilton opened his eyes and closed them again. “What's going on?” he murmured.

“Hey, doc. You gave us all quite a scare.” James attached another lead. “You went into cardiac arrest during the operation. Dr. Hildebrand was able to take over the surgery for you.”

“That's impossible. Are you sure?” The doctor clutched at the bedspread. He started to sit up, groaned and sank back against a pillow.

“I was there, sir. I managed to catch you when you passed out. I called the code blue myself. I did the chest compressions.” James blew out a sharp breath. “I saw you flatline. So, yeah, I’m sure.”

Dr. Hamilton closed his eyes again. “I thought it was just heartburn.”

“I’m afraid not.” James wiped the perspiration from his own forehead with the back of his hand.

“I guess I have you to thank for saving my life, then.”

James smiled. “I just happened to be at the right place at the right time. The code team brought you back.”

“This shouldn't have happened. I’m in great shape. I run twenty miles a week and work out nearly every day.” He paused. “You’ll forgive my skepticism, James, but I need to see the test results for myself.” He glanced up and back at the heart monitor. “Looks pretty good now.”

“Let's try to keep it that way.” Becky checked his vital signs and jotted them down. “We’ll let you rest for a while. And, Dr. Hamilton, please do try to relax.”

“Humph.” He frowned and placed a hand on his chest right over his heart.

“I’d better be going.” James turned toward the door.

“James.” Dr. Hamilton's voice sounded scratchy and weak.

“Yeah?” He turned back just before stepping out of the room.

“Thank you.”

James nodded and followed Anabelle and Becky back to the nurses’ station. He gave the women a detailed report even though the incident and everything that transpired had been written up in his record. “I called his wife, but she didn't answer. Maybe you have a cell phone number or something.”

“I’ll make sure we reach her.” Anabelle scurried to her office across the way.

The adrenaline rush that had gotten him through the ordeal had fizzled under a load of concern and guilt. He leaned against the wall and tipped his head back.

“Are you okay James?” Becky paused before going into the doctor's room again.

“Yeah. I’ve been through these before, you know, but—”

“It's always harder when the patient is one of our own.” She offered an empathic smile.

“You’re right about that.” James turned and headed toward Anabelle's office. He found her on the phone. She shook her head and set the receiver back in its cradle. “Genna isn't answering.”

“Can we talk for a minute?” James rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sure. Close the door and have a seat.” Anabelle's eyes belied the businesslike tone of her voice. Like him, she was having trouble holding it together. “What's going on? Is it Fern?”

He and Anabelle had been friends for a long time and went to the same church. He often confided in Anabelle about Fern's MS.

“No, not Fern. I wanted to talk to you about Dr. Hamilton.”

Anabelle frowned. “Okay.”

“There's a problem.” James leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Dr. Hamilton shouldn't have been in surgery this morning.”

“What do you mean?” She met his gaze head-on.

“I had a feeling something was wrong before surgery. The doc didn't look so good. He insisted he was fine, but I should have said something to someone. I shouldn't have let him operate.”

Anabelle sighed. “Oh, James. I can understand how you must feel, but you and I know hindsight is always better than foresight. I’m sure you did your best.”

“I’m not so sure.” He frowned.

“James.” Anabelle placed her hand on his arm. “I hate to say this, but if anyone is negligent in all of this, it's Dr. Hamilton. If he wasn't feeling well, he should have stepped down.” She paused as if the words she’d spoken were just sinking in. “We both know that Drew would never do anything to harm a patient—which leads me to believe that he sincerely felt he could safely operate when he walked into that room.”

James wasn't convinced. He should have followed his instincts. He just hoped everything went well with the patient and with Dr. Hamilton.

Dr. Hamilton was one of the most liked and popular doctors at Hope Haven, and nearly everyone who worked there had come into the unit to check on him.

He also had to be one of the most disgruntled patients Anabelle had ever had in the unit. She knew his grumpiness came out of fear and denial, but that didn't make caring for him any easier.

After at least two dozen visitors, Anabelle called the volunteer desk. Phyllis Getty, the feisty eighty-four-year-old volunteer and member of the Hospital Auxiliary, answered the phone.

“Hi, Phyllis. This is Anabelle. We’re getting way too many visitors for Dr. Hamilton.”

“I think so too.” Her hoarse chuckle followed. “I’ll put a stop to it, but we might want to let this next one through.”

“Oh?”

“It's Genevieve.”

Anabelle blew out a long breath. “Good. Send her back, but no one else.”

“Okey-dokey,” Phyllis added before hanging up.

Anabelle sent a prayer upward. “Maybe now that Genna is here, he’ll settle down a bit.”

She hurried toward the unit entrance to greet Genna. “I’m so glad we finally reached you.”

“How’s Drew?” Genna asked, out of breath and panting. Tears rimmed her eyes. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He's ornery so we are expecting good things.”

That brought out a smile and slowed Genna's steps. “Good. I knew something was going on, but I thought it was his stomach—like ulcers or something. So did he.”

“You were right to be concerned.” Anabelle gave her a brief overview of what had happened. “He has a good strong heartbeat now. Dr. Hildebrand should be in shortly to see him. We need him to rest, but he doesn't seem inclined to do that. Maybe you can help.”

“I’ll try.”

Anabelle escorted Genna to the room. Tears surfaced as she watched the couple embrace. She pulled the curtain slightly to give them privacy and went to answer a call light. She hoped Becky would return from her break soon. She definitely needed one of her own.

Several minutes later, Dr. Hildebrand came into the unit. Her thick blonde hair was pulled back in a tidy bun. She wore oversized green scrubs that washed her out and made her already-overweight figure seem larger. “How is Dr. Hamilton?”

Anabelle brought her up to date. “The results of the lab tests are here.”

Dr. Hildebrand called his information up on the computer. “I see that. No surprises here.”

“He's not taking this very well. Of course no one does, but he's in denial. He says he won't believe it until he sees the results himself.”

“Okay, print them out and we’ll let the good doctor diagnose himself.” Dr. Hildie was usually good natured with an easy smile. Now she seemed annoyed and out of sorts.

Anabelle highlighted the page, hit the Print button and brought the results with her to the room. Dr. Hildebrand took the results from Anabelle and handed the papers to Dr. Hamilton and crossed her arms. “See for yourself.”

He studied the results and handed them back and shrugged, his face showing none of the concern Anabelle felt he should have. “Okay, you win.”

“Drew, you need to take this seriously.” Dr. Hildie glanced over at Genna and back again. “This may be a onetime thing, or it may be an ongoing problem. We need to do a full workup. I’ll order a nuclear scan, echocardiogram and angiogram.”

She sighed. “I hate to ask, Genna, but I really need to talk to Drew alone for a moment.”

“Oh, sure.” Genna rose from the chair, leaned her slender form over the rail and kissed her husband's cheek. “I need a latte anyway. Be back in a few minutes.”

Anabelle stepped out of the room as well.

Just prior to the glass door's sliding shut, she heard Dr. Hildie say, “This doesn't look good for either one of us, Drew.”

Five minutes later Dr. Hildebrand stepped out of the room and sat in front of one of the computers at the nurses’ station.

Seri, one of the nurse’s aides, sidled up to Anabelle. “I don't know what Dr. Hildebrand said to Dr. Hamilton, but it did not make him happy.”

“She told him the truth about his condition.” Anabelle, too, had been stubbornly hoping that Dr. Drew hadn't really had a heart attack.

“Okay, I know about the emotional stuff, but he's just laying there staring out the window.”

“That's a good thing right now. He needs to rest.” Anabelle appreciated the girl's concern.

Anabelle checked on him again just before her break. The change was palpable. He’d gone from being irascible to sullen. Anabelle knew that when patients experienced a tragic event, part of the grieving process was often denial. With acceptance came sadness and often depression. Something in his countenance told her it might be more complicated than that. She prayed he would recover and come back as strong and energetic as ever. And she prayed that James and Dr. Hildie were wrong and that there would not be any legal implications against Drew for going ahead with the operation when he wasn't feeling well. Doctors had been sued for less.