Warrior Reborn (6 page)

He
was
ultimately responsible for what happened. Also living to regret each minute he’d accepted Sanyu as the head for this project. If it hadn’t been for Welson exec, Hauer Gault, Jason would have said no. He should have stuck to his guns.

The doors chimed and shushed open. Jason was half way across the visitor’s lounge of the pediatric oncology wing when he heard the crying. As he approached, he tried to recall where he had seen the woman before. Seated in the far corner, her body hunched over and arms twisted around herself, she looked as if she was trying to disappear.

“Mrs. Sanchez?” Jason approached the woman slowly, trying not to shock her. The wide-eyed look of horror on her face told him he was the last person on earth she wanted to see.

Jason did a quick mental recap. None of the children had suffered setbacks. That he was aware of. In theory, one of the team leads or Sanyu would have let him know because Jason would be responsible for the public relations issues of such a tragedy.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Ballard. I—it’s nothing, just nerves.”

He nodded, unconvinced. The stress of having a terminally ill child participating in the trials was harsh. Yet only two weeks into the trial with no setbacks, her reaction didn’t make sense.

“Would you mind if I sat with you for a moment?”

Mario Sanchez’s mother gave a quick, scared look toward the hallway, but nodded reluctantly.

Jason sat, leaned his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands lightly, doing anything he could to seem smaller and less of a threat to this woman who looked like a good strong breeze would blow her into the next city. “How is Mario doing?”

She blinked, gripping her tissue like a rosary, thumbs working, and fingers tight. “He’s doing well. Dr. Hyden, she’s so good with him. She’s the first doctor who tried to help him understand, to feel good even with…”

He nodded for her to continue. She didn’t.

“I know she’ll do everything she can think of to make sure he gets the best care.” Instead of comforting her, Jason’s words prompted the tears to flow again.

“No, she’s wonderful. If he could stay with her—”

Jason shook his head. “Mrs. Sanchez, there’s no reason Dr. Hyden won’t continue to treat Mario.”

Aww no.
The woman’s lips were quivering as she shook her head. She appeared headed for complete meltdown, he was sure of it.

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I really don’t want to intrude but—there are few things we can’t fix. How about you give me a chance to try to help?”

She wouldn’t even look at him. “You will find out anyway.”

The whisper of hopelessness almost killed him. What could be so bad, beyond already having a child so desperately ill? “Try me.”

“I make this trip in for Mario when my girls are in school. When I have time off.”

Jason nodded in encouragement. The hours, the travel, the strain was hard on many of the parents. Considerations he’d been trying to work for several parents lately.

“My husband, he works building construction. He sees Mario at night, when he gets off work. We’d be here more but money…”

It was coming, Jason could tell from the shredded state of the tissue. Mario’s mother closed her eyes and Jason considered calling for a nurse.

“He lost his job.” Her whisper came out like a cry. “They said with the economy—they don’t need his position. His job paid for our insurance. Now they will make Mario leave. I will lose my baby.”

All hell broke loose. Consuela Sanchez sobbed as if she’d already lost her eight-year-old son. Jason slowly put his arm around her and pulled her closer to his chest. The blue Hermes tie he’d worn would be forfeit, not that he cared.

“Mrs. Sanchez, no one is going to toss Marco out of the trial or this hospital. I promise.”

She looked up and blinked, a choked sob erupted like a hiccup. “But the insurance…”

“This trial doesn’t go to the insurance for funding.”

“We can’t afford to pay.” Her head shook back and forth with renewed vigor and her hands tightened on the pitiful excuse for a paper product.

Jason reached into his pocket and handed her the cloth handkerchief he always carried. Habit, because he never used them. “Here, now try to take a deep breath and relax. There are many resources within this project. This is not an issue, at least not for Mario continuing in the trial.” One less income would inundate this family with other problems. Perhaps not entirely out of his scope either. “How about you let me take care of this for you? You and your husband take this opportunity to spend more time with Mario.”

She’d stopped crying, with his handkerchief twisted into the tightest spiral of fabric he’d ever seen.

“You would do this for us?”

“Marco is part of this project. His success brings success to the project. But between you and me…”

She waited, hanging on his every word.

“This isn’t the first time families have had financial difficulties during trials. It won’t be the last time. This is what I do. Because I can’t do what Dr. Hyden does.”

Her face brightened. He saw the first glimmer of a smile. “Bless you, Mr. Ballard.”

“No. It’s my job. Save your blessings for the kids in the program.” He covered her hand and gave it a squeeze. I will get back to you and your husband soon with some options.” He handed her his card. “Better?”

“Thank you.”

***

Briet looked at the clock and debated. Annie had fifteen more minutes of treatment and she’d calmed down enough to go in and sit with her.

“Do you have a minute?”

Briet froze.
Found.
She had been so close to escaping.

“Just ten minutes.”

“Five.”

“Deal.” Jason looked at Annie through window. “She looks good.”

“Hmmm.” Briet was terse, but when Jason didn’t chime right back with a response, she cast a glance at him. He was staring at Annie, a wrinkle marring between his brows. Then he blinked several times.

“You okay?”

“Fine.” He shook his head and turned around to lean his head against the glass. “Probably just need coffee.”

“I don’t have time for coffee.”

He didn’t even look at her and shrugged. “Okay, so you’re still angry with me.”

“Ed already told me the testing is approved.”

Jason slid his hands into his pockets and sighed. “Briet, I brought up the consideration of testing, not you—Sanyu made his own leap.”

He glanced at her, but she couldn’t trust herself to meet his eyes, so she looked back at Annie instead. “Good, we’re clear. Nothing more to talk about. Is there anything else you wanted?”

“This issue of the testing is business. For the project, I respect your opinions and your input. I respect them outside of the project as well.”

She closed her eyes and took a breath. When she spoke, she tried to keep her voice low, calm. “So, what do you want from me?”

“What would I really like? The next time you get angry with me, I want you to trust me.” He held up his hand to hold her comment off. “Trust me enough to talk to me and hear me out.”

She swallowed the hard lump in her throat along with her overwhelming sense of vulnerability. She couldn’t trust him. He knew it, so now he was bargaining for the benefit of the doubt. The man was incorrigible. “So sure I’m going to be mad at you again?”

He turned his head and grinned. “I’m positive. You’re passionate and honest about your work and I’m a behind-the-scenes guy. It’s inevitable.”

“Why do you care?”

He rolled around and faced her, his shoulder against the glass and his face inches from her ear.

“Because aside from the business aspect of our relationship, I’m enjoying getting to know you, Briet Hyden.”

She was stunned. By his pronouncement, by the warmth of his breath on her skin, by the dimple and earnest look in his eyes, by her mind’s stubborn refusal to let the dream die.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. When did she become so weak?

He raised an eyebrow.

“What?” She managed to squeak the word out.

“This is where you’re supposed to promise to at least come and talk to me next time you’re pissed off at me.

Her lips twitched. She couldn’t have controlled them if she’d tried. “Okay, I promise to give you a chance—just one—to vindicate yourself.”

He smiled and turned back to watch Annie with her, his arm brushing against hers. “I promise not to lure you out on a limb and leave you there, I swear.”

CHAPTER 7

Jason leaned against the counter of the nurse’s station and waited for the young nursing assistant on the phone to finish with her call. She turned to him, held up a finger, granting him visibility to the name on her ID: Tasha King. Boy, was she young. Didn’t look more than nineteen, even though he knew she had to be at least twenty-two.

He was starting to feel old.

“…that’s correct. Yes. I’ll let Patrice know.” With a click to the button on the phone, she gave him her attention. “How may I help you?”

“I’m Jason Ballard. Nurse Rasmerson left me a message she’d finished with the parent waivers I’d dropped off.” Jason gestured to an orange folder at the far right of her workstation.

“Oh, yes. Sandy told me. She’s—”

“Right here. This is the file with the forms for Dr. Arnault’s and Dr. Brisborne’s parent groups as well.” Sandy slid the folders onto the counter.

“Thank you.” Jason flipped through each, mentally checking for a corresponding waiver from each parent against the master patient list in his head. “Problems with any of the parents?”

“Nah, they’ll do anything to help the trial or the docs. The parents appreciate how much they do for them and want to reciprocate. Especially the parents of Dr. Hyden’s patients.”

Such a commendation made Jason pause. He was very good at reading people. Sandy’s wide, friendly smile harbored no allusion to a come-on or sarcasm, only warm sincerity. Tasha’s head nodded right along with her.

“The kids seem very comfortable with her,” Jason said, hoping to catch the women in a conversational mood. He’d noticed Annie Bremar’s quick response to Briet’s presence the day he’d talked to her in the hallway. Briet’s hand signal, the pictures the child held up, depicted an ease and confidence in their communication.

“She’s very interested in them. They sense that.” Sandy slid her patient charts into the caddy behind the counter, touched the computer screen for a search, and stopped to take several more files from the head nurse, Patrice Walker, as she joined them.

“Any problems with her patients?” Jason asked, finished with his review of the files Sandy had collected.

Silence. He could feel the air thicken with his question. Glancing between the three women, he caught the scowl Nurse Patrice sent Sandy, but the younger woman shrugged at her boss.

“It’s not a secret,” said Sandy.

Guess the scowl was a deterrent, not a threat, because Sandy seemed undaunted.

Jason waited, watching Sandy and Patrice, as another nurse joined the group. The tag only displayed a last name, Groden. Jason wasn’t familiar with the woman. Not that he knew all the nurses on the wing, though he made it his business to introduce himself and be approachable. Risk management on trials could take any number of directions, good communication and rapport provided options. Success was all about the options.

“Brian Paulson had some severe vomiting. Half-hour before every treatment he’d lose it, never failed. Annie Bremar didn’t sleep for the first eight days she was here. And Davis Randall—why, he was so shy he wouldn’t tell anyone that he couldn’t pee for days.”

Jason lifted his eyebrows in surprise. Once the team leaders reviewed the week’s trial status, the data became available for Jason to view, which he did every week. The trial participants were only inpatients in the hospital for the first six weeks of the trial, everything about their activities meticulously monitored. There had been no note of extraneous medications for any of Briet’s patients since the inception of the trial, with the exception of one. He frowned at Sandy. “She’s not prescribing anything for Brian or Annie...”

“Not like any normal doctor,” muttered nurse Groden.

He didn’t bother to look at her, instead waiting for an answer.

Sandy obliged, ignoring Groden’s remark. “She worked with Brian. Got him to focus on breathing and visualization—”

“You’d think this was a yoga clinic, not a hospital,” Nurse Groden cut in.

Jason saw the scowl Sandy gave Groden. She continued undeterred. “It took three days, but she got him to work through a series of meditation and self-hypnosis routines. Now, a half-hour before every treatment, he’s relaxed as a cat in a sunbeam. Even throughout the whole procedure.”

“In three days?” Skepticism leapt forward. Logic compelled him to ask. Not that he didn’t like Briet.

“Three days, five times a day. Repetition and patience. She would sit with him and talk him through it, still does when she can.”

Interesting.
“What of Annie Bremar?”

“She had terrible nightmares,” said Sandy.

Nurse Groden shook her head again. “Would wake up screaming and wake up every kid on her hall.” She held her hands up at Sandy’s look. “Don’t get me wrong, these kids go through a lot. It was just tough on everyone. I mean…”

“Vicki.” Patrice Walker’s voice stifled whatever direction Nurse Groden had intended with her complaint.

“And?” Jason pushed.

“Annie always has books, pads, and colored pencils in her room. The doctor had her draw what she saw in her nightmares.”

Tasha gave a quick shake to her head, pursed her lips, and wrapped her arms around herself. “Awful stuff.”

Vicki Groden rolled her eyes and left with her charts.

“Yeah. Dark images. Horns, fangs, snake eyes—a little color, but mostly lots of black and scary, too realistic and detailed. Not stuff you’d expect an eight-year-old to be able to draw.” Sandy nodded. “Dr. Hyden had her do that a few times and then she brought her these colorful markers, the ones that erase. Had her draw new images over the nightmares, so the marker sort of bled the bad images away. Had her draw fresh pictures of things she loved before she would go to sleep.”