Solemn Oath (7 page)

Instead of sneering at her and laughing the way he used to do when she quoted Grandma, he cocked his head to the side. “How's your grandma doing?”

Tedi heard her name being called and glanced toward the building to find Abby gesturing for her to hurry. “I've got to go.” She turned to leave.

“Okay. I'll talk to your mom, Tedi. Today. I'm going to walk to her office right now.”

She paused and looked back and felt suddenly angry again. “Don't you hurt her. Don't scare her, and don't fight with her.”

“I won't.”

“If you do, I'll never talk to you again.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, and the muscle flexed at the side of his jaw again. “I won't hurt her, Tedi. I promise.”

 

Lukas slipped past the curtain in exam room five and greeted Jacob Casey, who lay on the bed beneath a thin
sheet, his wounded upper arm covered in a sterile dressing. “Well, Cowboy, I've got a lot of good news and a little bad news. The good news is that I see no vital damage to your arm, and you won't have to leave Knolls to have the wound repaired. The bullet exited with no bone involvement. The bad news is that I want a surgeon to have a look at you, and he'll probably want to keep you overnight.”

He expected an argument but got no reaction. Cowboy lay watching him listlessly.

Lukas frowned. “It won't leave as much of a scar as the lion bite did this spring.” He waited for one of the quick, witty replies Cowboy was known for during his many trips to the E.R., but to his amazement the rugged forty-three-year-old man's eyes filled with sudden tears. For a moment Lukas wondered if maybe he should recheck Cowboy's vitals and see if someone had slipped him some pain medication by mistake, then the man cleared his throat and wiped his eyes.

“The police didn't tell you, did they?” Cowboy said, his voice husky. “The man who shot me also shot and killed Leonardo.”

Lukas stared at Cowboy and felt his jaw go slack. “Oh no.” Not Leonardo. That cat had become a legend around Knolls, and everybody knew Cowboy loved him fiercely. “I'm sorry, Jake. I didn't know. I had to see about some other patients when the police showed up to get your statement, and since you were stable—”

“Did you ever lose somebody you depended on, Doc?” Cowboy kept his voice low, obviously unwilling for anyone outside the exam room to hear him.

Lukas nodded. “My mother died three years ago.”

Cowboy shook his head and grunted in shared sympathy. He was silent for a moment, then he said, “That lion was my best friend, and Berring just walked onto my ranch and
shot him while I was gone. Killed him! I call it murder. How could he get away with that? He's crazy!”

“Nobody really gets away with anything,” Lukas said. “Not in the end. But I came to tell you something about that, Cowboy. We received word that Berring has been picked up by the police, and they checked his records. He was released from state prison about six months ago after a fifteen-year stint for armed robbery and attempted murder. He's being held.”

Cowboy stared at him for a moment, then shook his head and lay back. “I'm glad they got him. It doesn't bring Leonardo back, though.”

“No, it doesn't. I'm sorry.”

Someone knocked at the threshold, then swept inside the curtain without waiting. In stepped tall, redheaded Beverly, off-duty E.R. nurse and Cowboy's girlfriend for the past four months. In fact, the two had met right here in the emergency department when Cowboy came in with a “love bite” from Leonardo.

“Hey, pardner,” Cowboy greeted Beverly, his voice suddenly back to its usual bass depth, all evidence of grief gone except for the telltale redness in his eyes. “Come to see if I'd died and left that Mustang to you in my will?”

Beverly did not smile. Her usually pale skin flushed with anger as she crossed her arms over her chest. Beverly's quick temper was even hotter than the color of her hair, which was no surprise to Lukas. He'd borne the brunt of her anger a few months ago. He wondered if he should leave and allow Cowboy to handle it alone.

“You didn't even call me!” she snapped at Cowboy. “I had to hear about it through the grapevine.” She glanced at Lukas, then lowered her gaze, as if embarrassed. “Hello, Dr. Bower.”

“Hello, Beverly.”

She was silent for a moment, as if wishing Lukas would
leave. Or maybe she was too acutely aware of the fact that legally she should not have been called unless Cowboy had requested it, and Cowboy was not the type to ask for emotional support. Someone—probably softhearted, bigmouthed Lauren—had called out of consideration for Beverly, breaking patient confidentiality.

“Jacob Casey,” Beverly said, “do you know what the word
macho
means? It's not flattering. I don't appreciate it that half the town knew about this thing—” she gestured toward the gauze-covered wound “—before I did.”

“Oh, don't go and get all worked up.” Cowboy reached up with his left hand and patted her arm. “I've been hurt worse than this lots of times.”

“What happened to Leonardo?”

Cowboy froze for a moment, clenching and unclenching the muscles in his jaw. “He didn't fare too well.”

Beverly studied his face, her forest-colored eyes showing compassion and just a hint of frustration. Some of the high color eased from her face. “I'm sorry, Jake.” She glanced at her watch. “The kids will be home in about an hour. I'll get them and go out to the ranch—”

“Nope.”

She paused. “There you go again. You're not going to stop me this ti—”

“I don't want the kids to see him like that, Bev. Call the vet. You know his number.” His voice wobbled just a little. He stopped, swallowed, took a breath. “They've got a key to the cage. They'll take care of him.”

“But I can meet them out there. Let me help—”

Lukas quietly slipped out of the room as their voices continued in gentle argument. Cowboy needed to realize he had other friends besides Leonardo. In the short time they had known each other, Beverly already seemed to be a staunch supporter. Funny how some men could inspire loyalty and
some could not, even in the workplace. Maybe that was why, at thirty-five, Lukas remained unmarried.

But could Beverly be trusted to continue her loyalty during Cowboy's grieving period? She had refused to support Lukas last spring with the treatment of one of their E.R. patients. All he'd wanted her to do was follow accepted hospital protocol when he refused to give narcotics to a drug-seeking patient.

She was supposed to fill out an AMA form stating that the patient, Dwayne Little, had left against medical advice when he realized he wasn't going to get the narcotic he wanted. Her refusal resulted in a pending lawsuit against Lukas by Dwayne's father, Bailey Little, president of the hospital board. If not for Mrs. Pinkley, the hospital administrator, Lukas would no longer be working here.

Lukas sighed and went in to check on his other patients.

 

With the sound of mechanical beeps filling the room behind her, Mercy stood blocking the entrance, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at a policeman trying to get past her to Ramón Martínez, who was on a nonrebreather oxygen mask and a cardiac monitor.

“This man is not drunk, Bill,” she said. “We've proven that. The alcohol you smelled on his breath came from the toothache medicine he was taking. He accidentally overdosed. He's sick and he's in pain. How can you do this to him right now?”

“Dr. Mercy, you know I still have to give him a ticket. People were hurt. I'm required—”

“If you give it to him now, he won't even understand what's going on. The interpreter called and canceled on us.”

Bill sighed, tugging at the too-tight collar of his uniform. “I know enough Spanish to explain it to him.”

Mercy felt the tingle of anger work its way up her spine. “You know Spanish, and you didn't volunteer to interpret when we needed help with him?”

Bill shifted uncomfortably. “Come on, Dr. Mercy. I don't know that much. Look, I'm not the bad guy here. I'm just trying to do my job. I'm not gonna beat him up or anything. I'll just give him the ticket and leave you alone.”

Mercy wanted to argue further, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. It would probably make things worse for Ramón. If Bill didn't give the ticket now, someone else might do it later, and there were a couple of people on the Knolls police force that Mercy wouldn't trust to haul a dead dog to the pound. Bill was a good guy, just a little too legalistic.

Mercy nodded her consent, gestured for Claudia to stay in the room and stepped down the hallway to Arthur's room, where she found Lukas and Lauren assisting Arthur into a wheelchair.

“Going somewhere?” she asked, ignoring the sight of Lukas and Lauren with their heads so close together.

“Your walls aren't soundproof,” Arthur said. “I heard you need an interpreter.”

“But your friends are getting ready to take you to Springfield,” Mercy protested. “I know how badly you want to be with Alma.”

“I'm going soon. Alma would want me to help Mr. Martínez.” He settled back into the chair with a groan. His head was cleanly bandaged, and his arm was in a sling. His voice was still just a little slurred from the effects of the Demerol as he asked Lukas questions about Mr. Martínez.

“I admire your ability to forgive, Arthur,” Mercy said softly.

He looked up at her in surprise. “Forgiveness has nothing to do with it, Dr. Mercy. What happened to us was an accident. There's no one to blame.”

Mercy shook her head and stood back to let Lukas wheel
Arthur out of the room. Was this guy for real? As if unable to help herself, she followed the entourage from the exam room into the hallway.

“I know a man near here who speaks Spanish,” Arthur was telling Lauren. “If you'll ask my friends to call him, he can come in and interpret when I leave.” When he entered Ramón's room, he spoke without hesitation, interpreting for the policeman giving the ticket, then more softly, with words of comfort, when Ramón buried his face in his hands.

Mercy stood beside Lukas at the doorway watching the scene. Even high on drugs and obviously still in some pain when he moved too fast, Arthur seemed to have an aura of compassion that surrounded him. She only knew one other person with that kind of presence. She looked at Lukas and found him watching her.

She did not want to look away. What she saw in his gaze as he looked at her was a combination of concern and admiration and something warmer, deeper, an emotion she didn't dare try to identify.

He touched her shoulder. “Thanks for coming over, Mercy,” he said softly. “I don't know what I'd have done without you. I know other docs who wouldn't have come.”

“You're welcome. Now, why don't you let me finish taking care of this one? You're still swamped.”

He smiled and nodded. “I do have a date with a broken arm.”

Mercy watched Lukas and Lauren leave, along with the policeman, then she pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and listened to Ramón's labored breathing. Through Arthur, she explained to Ramón that he had overdosed on the pain medication for his tooth, and that kept the oxygen from carrying well through his body.

“Tell him this is serious, Arthur, and the drug they are giving him will take care of that, but I need to keep him overnight in the hospital on the telemetry unit.”

She checked the monitor, and it looked good. Ramón still had some shortness of breath, but no chest pain. She checked his painful tooth and had Claudia begin the dosage of methylene blue through an IV to counteract the effects of the drug overdose.

While Arthur translated, Mercy checked Ramón's neck, belly, squeezed his hips and legs, listened again to his breathing. It could have been a lot worse, but he had a strong constitution. He also seemed to have a strong sense of guilt, and Mercy was glad for Arthur's attitude of compassion.

She looked at Arthur once more, who continued to talk in soothing tones while she worked. Alma Collins was a lucky woman.

L
ukas studied the small image of shrapnel that showed clearly on Buck's chest X-ray, then looked back at Buck. “Sorry, pal, it's surgeon's territory.”

Buck groaned and laid his head back. “Surgery? I have a shift tomorrow.”

“Get a replacement.”

“I can't. We've got the competition for the Explorers. I have to be there. Can't you just fish in there and pull it out?”

Lukas held the X-ray out and showed him, pointing to the image of metal. “It's deep in the muscle, Buck. I don't have any concerns about it being in the heart or lung, but I'm not going to go slicing through all that thick bodybuilder's muscle and tissue of yours to find something that's going to play hide-and-seek with a scalpel. Don't worry. You won't even have to leave Knolls. In fact, Dr. Wong is in the E.R. right now treating another patient, and I can have him give you a look while he's here.”

“Will he do it here in the E.R.?”

“Probably.”

“Then I'll get out today?”

“Barring complications.”

Buck motioned for Lukas to lean closer. “Will you tell
Kyle and Alex to go on back to the station? I'm not on duty today, and they're not my responsibility. And don't tell Lauren I said that, or she'll give me another lecture.”

Lukas grinned. “I'll head everybody off except your wife. She should be here any time.”

Buck's expression relaxed into a smile at last. “Kendra's the only one I want to see.”

 

Mercy had been gone from her office for over two hours, and it was time to get back, if she had anybody left to treat. She felt bad for leaving them for so long. They depended on her. She knew they were loyal, but that wasn't what concerned her about this.

A little over five years ago she'd lost custody of her daughter, and she'd lost the majority of her practice, all because of rumors and public opinion—and the fact that she'd been forcibly committed to a psych ward for a ninety-six-hour stay. Her ex-husband, Theodore Zimmerman, had coerced a physician buddy of his to pull the double cross on her during a very high-profile custody case for their daughter, Tedi.

Those patients who came to her now most likely knew about her past, about the rumors, and they came to her anyway. They'd given her their loyalty, and she hated to let them down.

She stepped into the nearest call room, prepared to do dictation on Arthur, when a newly familiar sense of suffocating heat and slight nausea accosted her. She inhaled with sharp impatience, as if to will away the attack as it began its languid travel outward from the core of her body. She hated this feeling! There wasn't time for it now.

She stepped into the private bathroom and splashed some cold water on her face and neck, then took deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth to try to relax. Stress. It had to be stress. Her life was so full right now that she constantly felt tense, even irritable. She wasn't sleeping well at night, and she refused to try the sleeping pills she
sometimes prescribed for her patients. She splashed water again on her face, then pulled off her lab coat and fanned herself with some paper towels. It would pass in a moment, as it had before. Some ice cubes would be nice, but—

“Mercy? You in there?” came Lukas Bower's voice from the call room entrance.

Dabbing moisture from her face and neck, she stepped out of the bathroom and waved him through the open doorway, then slumped onto the side of the bed in the corner beside the desk. She had to get back to the clinic. People were waiting. Who knew what state the office was in. But she was still perspiring heavily, and she didn't feel like getting up right now.

Lukas strolled in and sat down in the desk chair, releasing a sigh. “Thanks for coming in. I don't know what I'd've done without you. And thanks for taking such good care of Arthur.” He quirked a brow at her, and his clear blue eyes filled with gentle humor. “He got to you, didn't he? I heard him asking you to pray with him.”

Mercy took a couple more deep breaths. She knew her face was flushed. She probably looked as if she'd been running a race.

Finally Lukas noticed. “Mercy? Are you okay? You don't look too hot.”

Mercy sighed and rolled her eyes. Wonderful choice of words. Typically Lukas. “I'll be fine.” Sometimes, when she became especially irritable, his tenderness and concern could calm her like nothing else. He blurted whatever he thought, and you never had to worry about where you stood with him. His soft brown hair, bespectacled face and compact built disguised a powerhouse of character and intellect that she admired. In fact, she felt much more than admiration for him. But she wasn't ready to discuss the hot flashes with him or anybody else.

“I saw Beverly in with Cowboy today,” she said, making a show of examining the few exposed parts of his flesh. “I
don't see any scratch marks, and I didn't hear any raised voices. Did she see you?”

“She saw me.”

“You know she's still feeling guilty.”

“Why would she feel guilty? She swears I was the one in the wrong.” Lukas shrugged, but Mercy knew him well enough to know the continued disagreement with Beverly bothered him.

Everyone knew the nurse was afraid she would lose her job if she filed the report to support Lukas. Bailey Little had a lot of power, and he used it to get what he wanted.

“She still tries to schedule her shifts to keep from working with me,” Lukas said. “She's civil when she gets stuck with me, but it isn't a comfortable situation. I've been praying about it. Lauren says she's praying, too. She's even tried to talk to Beverly about it.”

Mercy tensed against her will at the mention of Lauren's name. “And did our little supernurse get anywhere with her?” She cringed at the sound of her own jealousy.

Lukas blinked at her, and his forehead wrinkled in concern. “No, but at least Beverly's still speaking to her. Mercy? Are you sure you're okay?”

This time the heat that flushed her face was shame, and she couldn't hold his gaze. During all the time she'd spent with Lukas, she hadn't been able to get out of her mind the fact that Lauren McCaffrey had a lot more in common with him. She was a Christian, as he was. She was his age and, like him, she had never been married. She was kind and outgoing to everyone. Her constant chatter sometimes got on Mercy's nerves, but she had a good heart. Funny how jealousy could tinge someone's outlook.

“I've got to dictate this chart and get back to my patients,” Mercy said at last, still not looking at him. “How about a date Thursday night? Jarvis George has a lady friend who is giving him a ‘getting well' party at his house.”

Lukas frowned at her. “You're kidding, right? Do you think that's a good idea? Don't you think my presence will be detrimental to his recovery?”

Mercy picked up the phone. “Don't be paranoid. He was so out of his mind last spring he probably doesn't even remember you—or the extent to which he went to get rid of you.” She knew Lukas wouldn't buy that. Sixty-five-year-old Jarvis George, the Knolls Community E.R. director, had opposed Mrs. Pinkley when she first hired Lukas. It hadn't helped the situation when Jarvis, distracted by Lukas in an exam room, had accidentally stuck himself with a suture needle. The needle had been infected by a patient with undiagnosed tuberculosis.

“He remembers,” Lukas said. “I bet he still blames me.”

“Oh, come on, Lukas, it wasn't your—”

“Not to mention the fact that the TB encephalitis couldn't have kicked in until at least a couple of weeks later, during which time he used all the influence he could muster—”

“He was being manipulated by Bailey Little,” Mercy said. Everyone knew about the E.R. visit when Lukas had refused to give morphine to Bailey's drug-seeking son, Dwayne. “Both men have lost a lot of points in this community,” she continued. “Especially Jarvis.” He had not only given the requested morphine but had allowed Dwayne to drive away high on the drug. As a result, Dwayne had been in a fatal automobile accident.

“So how about it, Lukas?” Mercy asked. “You're off Thursday. I checked the schedule.”

“I guess I could try, but if Jarvis starts shooting the moment I walk in the door, I refuse to stay past the obligatory thirty minutes.”

“Wear your bulletproof vest, just in case.” Mercy held his gaze a little longer than necessary, simply because she loved having that connection with him. Then she dragged her mind
away from what could have been if they weren't both so busy. She punched her entry buttons and started dictation.

 

Lukas stood watching Mercy dictate her additional comments about Arthur. They had incorporated the “T-system” charting now, which did away with extensive dictation or handwritten notes, but the T-sheets didn't cover everything. Lukas liked the fact that Mercy didn't try to pigeonhole or computerize human beings. She often added extra notes to her files. She always did the extras for her patients, making them feel more like human beings and less like parts on an assembly line.

Lukas knew she was that way with every relationship in her life. She made him feel as if he was important to her, that their friendship was something special. Up to now it had been just that—a sharing friendship. He enjoyed her company so much…maybe a little too much? They had a lot of interesting discussions about life and about their pasts, and about his faith in God. But that was the catch. It was only
his
faith, not Mercy's. How could he enjoy her company so much when she couldn't even understand the most important foundation of his life?

But he kept telling himself she was getting closer.

She reached up to catch a strand of her long dark hair that had fallen from its clasp and caught sight of him still standing there. She gave him a questioning “do you need something?” glance.

He shook his head, waved and turned to walk out of the room, and nearly bulldozed into Mrs. Estelle Pinkley, hospital administrator. He caught himself just in time, with the aid of a few spur-of-the-moment dance steps.

“Oh, good, Dr. Bower, I'm glad I found you.” The tall silver-haired lady took his arm as if to steady him. “Are you too busy to step into the break room with me for a moment?”

“Uh, no, not at all. Is something wrong?” By habit he
studied her features and gave her regal seventy-year-old frame a cursory glance up and down as they walked the few feet into the empty E.R. staff break room. Those slender shoulders held a lot of responsibility, and sometimes, when the E.R. was slow and she was having back problems, she would “impose” upon him for a spinal adjustment. As a doctor of osteopathy, Lukas was knowledgeable about spinal manipulation.

“You could say that.” She eased down onto the chair at the far west end of the circular table, massaging her fingers. “We're being investigated by COBRA.”

She said it too calmly, and for a moment the words didn't register. Lukas stared at her.

“We could be in for a rough ride, Lukas.”

The impact hit him. “COBRA?” He caught his breath, then pulled back a chair beside her and sank down into it, stunned. The federal watchdog agency had the power, if they searched enough records and found enough infractions, to shut down any hospital or medical center in the country. Every hospital had infractions. Nobody was perfect all of the time, especially when they were the victims of a witch hunt.

“Have you spoken with Beverly lately?” Mrs. Pinkley asked.

“She avoids me as much as possible.”

“She needs to fill out that AMA form, Lukas. It's been over three months.” She leaned forward and spread her hands across the table. “This is ridiculous! One conniving man should not have this much power over this many people. He's got Beverly so browbeaten she's terrified to tell the truth.”

“That conniving man is a grieving father,” Lukas reminded her. “He's still reacting.” Attorney Bailey Little was also president of the hospital board, a dangerous situation for a doctor employed by that hospital. Bailey had promised
vengeance several months ago when Lukas had refused to give morphine to Dwayne. Bailey had furthermore used his influence to sway public and patient opinion against Lukas. The plan had failed miserably upon Dwayne's tragic death, but Bailey's influence still beleaguered Mrs. Pinkley and her plans for the hospital.

“I find it outrageous that you're the one being investigated.” Mrs. Pinkley's voice dropped even deeper than usual in an unaccustomed show of anger. “You know Bailey's behind this.”

“When does the investigation start?”

She fixed him with her cool gray gaze, all traces of anger suddenly gone, as if she were slipping into her attorney mode. “The investigator is scheduled to arrive in two weeks. Don't worry, we'll handle this together.” She placed her hands on the table to push herself up, then shook her head and sighed. “I wish Bailey didn't hold such a strategic position.” She stood with a suppressed groan. “The weather's changing. We're in for a big storm.”

“Is your back bothering you again?”