Chapter Nine

BACK AT THE NURSES’ STATION, ANABELLE ASKED about Dr. Hamilton's whereabouts.

Heather, the charge nurse, looked surprised. “He's gone? He must have sneaked out while we were in report.”

It was entirely possible. For around fifteen minutes, the nurses and aides from both shifts gathered to share pertinent information so the next shift could take over somewhat seamlessly. “I think we’d better find him.”

Trying not to panic, Anabelle checked the cafeteria. No Dr. Hamilton. She peeked into the chapel. Not there. Anabelle had one more place to look. She made her way to his office, but no luck there either.

“Where could he have gone?” she muttered. “Drew Hamilton, if you walked out of this hospital, I’ll…” She’d what? Haul him back?

Frustrated, Anabelle punched the elevator button and stepped in when it opened. As she pressed the button for the second floor, it hit her. If she knew anything about Drew, it was that concern for his patients outweighed his own health and well-being. She walked into the Cardiac Care Unit and went straight to Mr. Blake's room. Sure enough, there sat Dr. Hamilton, visiting with the patient he had been performing surgery on before his own heart attack.

Anabelle didn't interrupt them, but went back to the desk to let Heather know where their errant patient had gone.

By the time she got to Uncle Dan's, her heart rate had almost returned to normal. The lost had been found. “You certainly earned your pay today,” she murmured.

She had placed her order just prior to leaving the hospital so they’d have it ready for her. The heavenly smells coming from the bags almost caused her to pull over and start eating. You can wait a few minutes, Anabelle. The voice in her head sounded far too much like her mother's.

Anabelle grinned when she saw Doug and Ainslee's car as well as Kirstie's red Honda parked on one side of the driveway. She pressed the garage door opener and drove into the garage.

Armed with dinner, she walked into the entry expecting a cheery greeting; but all she could hear was Ainslee sobbing. “I can't believe it. I just can't believe it.”

Anabelle set the food on the counter and hurried into the living room, expecting yet another crisis. “My goodness, Ainslee, what's wrong?”

Doug, Ainslee and Kirstie were sitting on the couch. Cameron stood to one side.

Ainslee, still crying, jumped off the couch and ran to her mother, nearly knocking her down. “Oh, Mom. I’m so glad you’re here. I tried to keep it a secret so I could tell you the news all at once, but these three wormed it out of me.”

Cameron hugged her as well. “You might want to sit down.”

“What's going on?”

Tears still streamed down Ainslee's face. “Mom, we’re pregnant. We’re going to have a baby!”

“You’re sure?” Anabelle squealed.

Ainslee sniffed and nodded.

“What's with all the tears? I thought something terrible had happened.”

“I can't help it. We’ve wanted this for so long. It doesn't seem possible.”

“Oh, honey.” Anabelle hugged Ainslee again, then reached for Doug. “I’m so happy for you—for all of us.” Anabelle sat down, not sure her legs would hold her. “When did you find out?”

“I suspected I might be over the weekend, but didn't dare let myself believe it. I saw the doctor today, and she confirmed it.”

Anabelle could hardly contain herself. “This calls for a celebration! I hope you are all hungry. I bought enough chicken and fixings to feed a small army.”

James called Gideon during his break to set up an appointment to talk. Odd thing that my family’s so busy we can’t seem to find time to talk without prearrangements, he thought.

“Hey, son,” James said when Gideon answered. “How about the two of us meet at the coffee shop after work so you can fill me in on that ROTC thing?”

“I’d like that, Dad, but I have to go to football practice, and I promised Nelson I’d drive him over to Princeton to pick up his guitar.” Though he was only fifteen, they’d been able to get Gideon a driver's license due to family need. Fern could no longer drive and the kids had a lot of events, plus James had to work.

“Okay then. Maybe we can talk when you get home or in the morning after breakfast. We can go to the coffee shop before my shift starts.”

“Sure. We probably won't be home for dinner. I told Mom we’d stop for burgers in Princeton.”

“All right, drive carefully.” James hung up. He’d forgotten about the guitar. Over the summer, his younger son had rediscovered his talent for music. He’d played violin in elementary school and decided he’d like to do guitar. They’d be doing a rent-to-own program.

Before heading back to work, he called to check on Fern. “How's my favorite girl?”

“Favorite. Does that mean you have another one stashed somewhere?”

“Oh rats,” he teased. “You found me out.”

She laughed, a sound James never tired of hearing. “I’m having a good day for a change.”

“Wonderful. Say, I just talked to Gideon and was thinking: Since the boys won't be home for dinner, why don't you and I go out on a date?”

“Ooh. That sounds romantic.”

“Want to go to Henri's?”

“I’d love to, but it's so expensive.”

“Nothing's too good for you, my love.”

“But…”

“We haven't been out in a while. Besides, we need some time to ourselves, and a candlelight dinner would be just the thing.”

“All right. You’ve convinced me.”

Dinner was fantastic. Henri's had an early-bird dinner special allowing them to eat for far less than they’d planned. Fern suggested they go to one of those ten-hankie chick flicks she’d wanted to see. It had been a long time since Fern had been able to go out like this, and James wanted it to be special. By the middle of the movie he’d dozed off.

Back home, a couple of hours later, as he carried his wilting wife inside, he wished someone could carry him.

That night he added Elena and Candace to his prayer list. He hadn't known about Sarah or about Candace's flashbacks. But then, he’d only been friends with the ladies for a short time. Anabelle, however, he’d known for quite some time through church and at work. He had, in fact, assisted Dr. Hamilton during Kirstie's surgery.

He smiled, thinking about the unlikely bond the four of them had developed. They were all nurses, of course, but the bond went deeper than that. They were believers and all part of God's family. Having friends to talk with and pray with was truly a gift.

Wednesday morning James awoke at five thirty. As usual, he was the first one up. When he’d showered and dressed, with everyone still asleep, he decided to grab a sausage-and-egg biscuit and orange juice on his way to work. He was sitting in report when he realized he’d forgotten about his morning appointment with Gideon.

Once report ended, James called his son and left a message on his cell. Hopefully, they could connect that evening after youth group.

That done, he began his initial rounds to see his patients. He started with his most critical patients including Tucker Blair. Tucker was only sixteen and had been a surprising and disheartening admit the previous day; Tucker and Gideon went to the same school.

He’d been at target practice with his dad and several friends. James wasn't clear on all the details, but one of the guns had accidentally discharged, and Tucker had been struck in the abdomen. Word about the accident had spread quickly as Tucker's distraught family and friends sat in the waiting room.

James spotted Dr. Hamilton and Dr. Clark leaving Tucker's room. Dr. Kathryn Clark had been taking over Dr. Hamilton's patients while he recuperated. As they approached, Dr. Hamilton was saying, “I hope you didn't mind my visit. I wasn't checking up on you.”

Dr. Clark nodded. “I know. Hard to let go, isn't it?”

“A bit.” He rubbed his chin. “What course of action are you pursuing?”

“Another CT, scope, blood work. Whatever I need to do to find the trouble spots and stop the infection.”

“Good. When you get the results back, maybe you could let me know.”

“Um…sure.” She was obviously apprehensive about the senior doctor's presence when he should have been resting. “What I don't understand is this lesion. We’ve gone in twice and scanned every square inch of his intestinal tract.”

Dr. Clark's use of the word we indicated to James that Dr. Hamilton had apparently been in on the consultation process with the other surgeons about Tucker.

Dr. Hamilton sighed. “The hardest part about being a doctor, Kathryn, is that we don't have all the answers. The intestinal tract is probably the most difficult area in the body to diagnose and treat.”

She nodded. “I know, with all those twists, turns and folds.”

“Well, take a close look at the new scans. We may have to bring in Dr. Jeffries from St. Francis in Peoria.”

“I will. Thanks.” Dr. Clark headed down the hallway.

“James,” Dr. Hamilton greeted. “I trust you were going in to see Tucker Blair.”

“I was.” James could see that Dr. Hamilton was tiring. Concern prodded James to step in. “Dr. Hamilton, no disrespect, sir, but you’re supposed to be resting. The last I heard, you weren't seeing patients.”

“That's all too true. But that doesn't mean I can't just visit my former patients.”

“That didn't sound like ‘just visiting’ to me. You should be taking it easy.”

Dr. Hamilton smiled. “I’ll take that under advisement, James. Now that you mention it, I am feeling a bit tired. Mind if I borrow a wheelchair and an aide to take me back to CCU?”

James grabbed a wheelchair from the cubicle where they stored them and held out his hand to give Dr. Hamilton support. The doctor refused help and sank into the chair, his face drained of color.

“Don't say it, James. If I hear the word rest one more time, I swear I’ll go nuts.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Apology accepted.” Dr. Hamilton glanced at the room occupied by another of his former patients.

“Don't even think about popping in,” James chided.

He wheeled the doctor to his room and waited while he got into bed. Then James doubled back to the Medical Surgical Unit, dropped the wheelchair off in its cubicle and headed for Tucker's room. Medical professionals were supposed to remain objective. Compassionate, yes, but also distant. They certainly were to avoid personal involvement. That was proving to be difficult with a patient like Tucker.

After donning a cap, mask, isolation gown and gloves, James entered the room. “Hey, Tucker.”

The boy's lack of response and his closed eyes jump-started James's heart. It took a moment to realize his ears were plugged with earphones.

James reached over the bed rail and touched Tucker's shoulder.

Tucker jumped and pulled out the earpieces. “Whoa. You scared me.” He caught his breath. The quick movement must have been painful.

Tucker had frightened James as well. “How’re you doing this morning?”

“About the same. It hurts. The stuff I’m getting for pain helps, but I can't think.”

“Don't worry about thinking. Just let your body rest.”

“Did Gideon tell you that he and Nelson came by last night?”

“No. He was sleeping when I left.” James checked the IV site and looked over the bags of antibiotics Tucker was getting. After his stay in ICU, he’d come to this floor.

Infection wasn't unusual with GI patients, and with gunshot cases, it was often expected. Unfortunately, Tucker's insides had been badly affected, and the bacteria had found its way into his bloodstream. Tucker wasn't responding well to treatment.

Sometimes James wished he didn't have the kind of experience needed for this kind of patient. He’d seen the worst, and Tucker's was right up there. James checked vitals and changed the abdominal dressing, praying all the while that God would heal the wounds and help them find the medications needed to kill the bacteria in his system.

“Give it to me straight, Mr. Bell. Am I gonna die?”

The question caught James off guard.

“Gideon said you were a medic in the army and that you had to take care of guys with gunshot wounds all the time. I figured you’d know.”

“We’re doing our best to make sure that doesn't happen, Tucker.”

“But I could.”

“I can't deny there's always the medical possibility, but you’re in good hands.”

“I never thought anything like this could happen to me.” His voice broke.

James placed a gloved hand on Tucker's shoulder. “I know. And I’m sorry it did.”

“Gideon wanted me to make sure I was okay with God—just in case.”

James smiled. “And are you?”

“I think so. Last night we prayed for a while.”

“I’m praying for you too, Tucker. And I know your family is as well.”

“Thanks.” He closed his eyes and sighed.

James told him he’d be back, and Tucker gave him a brief nod and inserted the earpieces again.

As he was leaving, he met Tucker's mother in the hallway outside the room.

“James, I’m glad I ran into you. The doctor said Tucker has a fifty-fifty chance of making it.” She pinched her lips together, catching her tears on her fingers.

“I wish I could tell you that everything will be okay, but—”

“I know.” She sighed. “How’s his mood?”

“He's trying to be tough, but he's scared.”

“He tells me I don't need to stay with him, but I have to.”

James smiled. “Trust me. He wants you here. Don't feel like you need to carry on a conversation. Just be there.”

“I will.”

James discarded the contaminated clothing and washed his hands. He wasn't sure what to make of Gideon and Nelson's visit to Tucker the night before. Prayer was a good thing. That Gideon initiated it was a surprise, especially since the boys weren't that close. Gideon seldom talked about his faith, at least not to his parents.

Before heading for his break, James looked in on his other patients. They, at least, were doing better and would probably be going home in a day or two.

James made certain the proper tests had been scheduled for Tucker before leaving the floor for a quick break.

Instead of going to the cafeteria, he went to the chapel. He could pick up coffee on his way back, but right now he needed to see to his patients’ spiritual needs as well as his own. Days like this could wear a man down.