Prima Donna (13 page)

Her mom stepped out of the room as Carter headed toward it. Her already thin face appeared gaunt, almost hollow, her dull brown hair was pulled back in a messy braid, and an old blue cardigan hung off her like a three-man tent.

Carter held his arms open and Nancy walked straight at him, burying her face against his shoulder and sniffing quietly. He didn’t try to comfort her with words, because he knew that wouldn’t help. All he could do was stand there and hug her until she cried herself out.

“Sorry.” She sniffed, wrapped her arms around her waist, and forced a tired smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“How’s she doing?”

“She says she’s fine, and she wants to go home, so that’s good, right?”

Carter didn’t answer, just held the door for Nancy to go in ahead of him. The semiprivate room was set up the same way as every other room in pediatrics; primary colors on the walls, Disney-themed curtain dividing the room, and an overstuffed recliner beside each bed.

They walked past the first bed, which was completely curtained in, and moved straight to the head of Erin’s bed.

“Hey,” Carter said quietly. “I thought we agreed not to see each other for a while.”

Erin’s pale blue eyes brightened. “You came.”

“ ’Course. I told you I was just a phone call way.” He smiled down at her pale little face as she held down the button on the side of her bed until it propped her up more. Her worried gaze flicked over to her mom, then back to Carter. It was a look he knew all too well; a look he’d seen on too many kids, and a look he’d given his own mother so many times.

“Has Dr. Imrie been in this morning?” Maybe he should have directed the question to Nancy, but he spoke directly to Erin, who shook her head.

“He said he’d see me when the labs were back.”

Nancy took her daughter’s hand and squeezed it tight. “No news is good news, right?”

Erin and Carter both knew that was a load of crap. No news wasn’t good news; it was just no news, but if it made her mother feel better, if it gave her even the slightest bit of hope, Erin would smile and nod all day long.

“Did you eat yet?” He nudged her knee and grinned. “I bet I could rustle you up some leftover lime Jell-O from last night.”

“Blech.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “I’m not hungry.”

“That’s not what I asked, was it?”

“They brought a tray earlier,” Nancy said quietly. “But she wouldn’t eat any of it, so they took it away.”

“What’s the matter?” he teased. “Hospital food not good enough for you?”

“It’s so gross.” She dragged the whine out as long as she could, but Carter just shook his head.

“I’m going to go find you some breakfast and you
will
eat it.” He’d get Nancy something, too, though he doubted she’d even look at it.

He slid the tray along the counter, picked out two small blueberry muffins, a couple bananas, a milk, and two large coffees. He took it all up to Erin’s room and then sat on her bed until she swallowed every bite of her muffin and downed the last of the milk.

“There.” He set his empty coffee cup on the plate and pushed the tray away. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? I want that banana gone before noon. Got it?”

“No problem. The kid in the next bed’ll eat anything.”

Nancy paced near the window, her untouched coffee clutched in her hand, while Carter and Erin played crazy eights countdown, rummy, and snap until Imrie finally showed up.

“Dr. Scott.” Patrick Imrie was probably exactly what Regan thought a doctor should look like: neatly trimmed graying hair, clean shaven, white lab coat over his pressed shirt and tie, a sharp crease down the front of his black dress pants and shined patent leather shoes laced up in perfect matching bows.

Carter gathered the piles of cards and moved out of the way so Imrie could talk to Erin and Nancy.

“You’ve picked up an infection.”

Nancy collapsed into the chair beside Erin and sobbed as Carter blew out a long, slow breath.

“Meaning?” Erin’s voice was low, but even.

Imrie licked his lips and nodded slowly. “Meaning we’d like to hook you up to IV antibiotics to try and blast it out.”

“Great,” she grumbled. “So how long am I gonna be stuck here?”

“Five or six days.”

“And if the antibiotics don’t work?”

“Hey.” Carter nudged her foot and shook his head.

After a few seconds, she glanced over at her mother, leaning on the side of the bed, Erin’s hand clutched between her own, and sighed heavily.

“Fine.”

“I’ll get the meds ordered,” Imrie said. He waited until Nancy sat back in her chair, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “But if you need anything, just buzz the nurses.”

Erin’s chin lifted in a barely there nod as he disappeared into the hall. Carter stood at the foot of her bed with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Five or six days isn’t so bad.”

“Easy for you to say,” she snorted. “You don’t have to share a room with the Pokémon Master over there.”

“Tell you what.” He tipped his head to the bananas on the tray. “If you eat everything they bring you from now on, we’ll have a Mario Kart marathon on Saturday after my shift. Deal?”

Erin’s eyes narrowed. “Can I be Waluigi?”

“ ’Course.”

“And you’ll be Peach.”

“Get lost,” he laughed. “I ain’t bein’ a chick.”

Before leaving the hospital, Carter made sure the nursing station had his cell number on hand and instructed them to call him if anything changed with Erin. By the time he made it back to the office, it was just after noon and while the reception area was empty, he still had his afternoon patients to see.

Following the sound of Jules’s laughter, he made his way to Rossick’s office, where she was perched on the edge of the desk with Rossick towering over her; no doubt giving each other the gears over something.

“Hey,” he said. “How’d it go here this morning?”

“Carter.” Jules pushed off the desk, tucked her hair back, and smiled. “Great. Regan rescheduled your morning, managed to keep the two of us on time for the most part, and now she’s out picking up sushi for lunch. I think Rossick’s a little bit in love.”

“Not gonna lie,” Rossick nodded over one of his goofy grins. “I think it might be more than a little bit.”

His grin faded almost immediately, his eyes widened, his voice lowered. “Is Tracy still here?”

“She’s gone for lunch.”

He poked his head out the door quickly, then ducked back in and flopped down in his chair.

“Oh, man, she’s crazy,” he said. “All morning, she’s lectured me on my caffeine intake, she hid my stash of Smarties, and every time I step out of my rooms, she’s right there!”

“She’s not crazy,” Jules laughed, waving her hand dismissively at him. “And she’s right, you drink way too much coffee.”

“Hello, Jules—cardiologist here! I know what caffeine does.”

“She’s a good nurse.”

Carter nodded, smirking all the while. “Jules is right.”

“Easy for you to say; you’re not tripping on her every two minutes.”

It didn’t take long for Carter to start thinking Rossick might be right; every time he needed Tracy, he’d have to go hunt her down on Rossick’s side of the office, or have Regan do it for him.

Other than that, the afternoon went smooth as silk; Regan kept the three of them on track, let them know if they were running late, handled phone calls as if she’d been in the medical field for years, and didn’t even flinch when the Fulcher kid threw up in the waiting room.

By the end of the day, the last thing Carter wanted to do was unpack boxes, but he didn’t have much choice. He’d sort of hoped Jules and Rossick might have started after he went and crashed at Nick’s the night before, but no such luck.

Boxes, stacked five and six high, blocked the hallway, the living room, and trickled into the kitchen. A few sat on the counters, opened and spilling out onto the counter—probably Rossick looking for a coffee mug—and only Julia’s bed had been set up. Carter’s and Rossick’s mattresses stood on end against the living room wall.

“What’s up with that?” Carter asked, pointing at the box spring. “D’you sleep on the floor last night?”

“Uh, yeah. Was too tired to set my room up.”

Julia grabbed some beers out of the fridge and thrust one at each of them.

“I’ll start in the kitchen.” Her voice sounded weird, like she was trying to make a point, but when Carter looked up at Rossick, he just shrugged and turned toward his room.

“Come on,” he said. “You can help me get the frame set up, then we’ll do yours.”

They headed to Rossick’s room and spent the next hour fighting to get the head- and footboards attached to the rails. It might have gone faster if they hadn’t stopped to hook up the TV so they could watch the hockey game while they worked.

By the time they finished, Jules had only managed to unpack a single box and was sitting on the counter, swinging her feet, and thumbing through a hardware store flyer.

“God, I hate this,” she moaned. “Can’t we just live out of the boxes?”

Rossick set their empty bottles on the counter and grabbed for a second, but Carter waved the offer away.

“Come on, let’s just get it done.”

He only half listened to Jules and Rossick bicker while the three of them lifted, shoved, arranged and rearranged furniture. He didn’t give a flying crap where any of the furniture went, but Jules did, so he followed behind her, moving tables, chairs, and shelves, then moving them again when she decided she didn’t like where they were.

With his shift done on Saturday afternoon, Carter set a box of doughnut holes on the nurses’ desk, checked the whiteboard and headed down the hall. He’d managed to get in a few naps last night during his shift, so he wouldn’t be able to use exhaustion as an excuse for the butt-kicking he knew he was in for.

And before heading to his doom, he had a few stops to make.

Josh and Zac had the soccer game on when Carter opened their door. Neither boy was a patient of his, but that didn’t stop him from going in.

“Hey guys. Any score?”

“Just started.” Fourteen-year-old Josh sat propped up in bed, IV attached to his right arm, and a tray of food in front of him, which he was making short work of.

Zac’s tray was pushed off to the side, untouched. Curled on his side, with a kidney dish tucked up beside him, he still managed to lift a hand in a small feeble wave. “Go, Man-U.”

Carter dug a clean dish out of the cupboard, switched it out for Zac’s, then took the dirty one to the bathroom to wash it out.

“Brought you guys something,” he said, opening his backpack.

“If it’s Scarlett Johansson,” Zac muttered, “I’d rather you bring her back another day.”

Carter laughed, tossed a
Sports Illustrated
on his bed and a
Hot Rod
magazine on Josh’s.

“Jeez, Doc.” Zac’s shaky hand lifted the magazine off the bed, then dropped it. “You could’ve at least sprung for the swimsuit issue.”

“Talk to me when you’re nineteen.” He filled both their water jugs as he spoke. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the Games Room getting my butt handed to me.”

“No doubt,” Josh muttered. “It’s all she’s talked about.”

With a final wave, Carter left them to their soccer game and magazines and moved down the ward to Hazel’s room. She was asleep, so he left the princess paper dolls on the table and moved on to Amy’s, room where he delivered a copy of
Tiger Beat.

He didn’t know any of the other kids on the ward, but that didn’t stop him from poking his head into their rooms and introducing himself, then it was off to Erin’s room.

She was fully dressed and sitting by the window when he walked in.

“Look at you,” he said. “You getting sprung early or something?”

“Yeah, all clear. But I told them I couldn’t leave until I kicked your butt, so they told me I could stay as long as I wanted.”

“Well, all right then.” He held the door open and laughed as he waved her through. “Let the butt-kicking begin.”

Cross-legged in the Games Room, Erin wasted no time beating him on every track except Toad’s Factory before they moved on to the next course.

Other kids trickled into the room to cheer, not for Carter, of course, but then came little Hazel, who crawled right up on his lap and tucked her robe around her legs. It made steering a little harder, but everyone knew that wasn’t the reason he kept losing.

He sucked. And what made it worse was knowing Erin had given him three pity-wins. She was too polite to admit it, but everyone in the room knew it. As her car flew over the finish line for the last time, she held her arms over her head, controller still clutched in one hand, and whooped. Josh pushed to his feet and wheeled his IV stand toward the door, snickering all the while.

“You suck, Doc.”

“Thank you,” Carter laughed. “Thank you very much.”

He smiled down at Hazel, who blinked her big blue eyes and shrugged, then pointed at his hair.

“You changed it.”

“Yeah.” He sighed in a
what-can-you-do
kind of way. “I met this girl and she wanted to see if she could cut it like you do.”

“It’s yucky.” At four years old, Hazel had already perfected the art of the pout. “Can I fix it?”

“Tell you what.” Carter set her on her feet, then squatted beside her and smiled. “I gotta get going today, but maybe you can fix me up next time, how’s that?”

“Promise?” She wasn’t worried over the fact she would no doubt be spending most of her time in the hospital over the next few months; her only worry was if she could cut Carter’s hair again. So wrong.

“Promise.”

“Hazel?” The girl’s parents stood in the doorway smiling at their daughter. “Did you thank Dr. Scott for the paper dolls?”

“Thank you, Doc Scott.” She hurried over to her parents and they disappeared back down the hall, leaving him alone with Erin.

“I’d like to say that was fun,” he laughed. “But no guy likes to get his butt handed to him by a chick.”

Erin’s mouth twitched against a smile. “You really do suck.”

“Erin!” Her mom appeared in the doorway then, a cup of coffee in one hand and a look of horror on her face.