Family Practice Page 19

  “We’re lucky to have him in White Pine Lake,” Callie said, realizing her dismay had worked its way into her vocal cords. “I would never stand in the way of advancing his medical career, though. If you’ll excuse me, Doctor, I should check on my mother. It was nice meeting you, and thanks again for your assistance.”

  “Of course.”

  Callie straightened and started walking blindly to the doorway. Zach could leave the practice whenever he chose with barely enough notice for them to find a replacement, even a temporary one.

  He’d kept it all from her even as he encouraged her to stake her claim on a life and a future in White Pine Lake. She’d let herself trust him almost to the point of admitting she was in love with him, too. And now this. It felt like betrayal. It was betrayal.

  The sudden, sharp pain in her chest and the faint cracking sound that echoed through her mind was easily diagnosed. It was her heart shattering.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  DR. ASSAD HAD BEEN RIGHT. It had been one heck of a night. How had he gotten himself into this predicament? Zach hadn’t meant to keep secrets from Callie; he had just been waiting for the right opening, the right moment, to come clean about the job offer. He had never intended to take it or to leave White Pine Lake, but he owed Donnell Parsons a lot. The neurosurgeon had given him his chance at a normal life, stuck by him when the PTSD was at its worst. He wanted to talk to the man before he turned him down, offer his thanks and his regrets in person. But Callie wasn’t aware of any of that. To her, the revelation came as a betrayal of their newly forged trust.

  He stared out the rain-streaked window of his bedroom, then at his bedside clock. A battery-operated one he’d picked up in the dollar store when he got to White Pine Lake and found out the electricity wasn’t all that reliable. It was a little after 1:00 a.m. It was going to be a long night.

  He couldn’t sleep, so he might as well get up and make himself a cup of coffee. His friends might have recommended a stiff drink, but he didn’t drink on the nights he was on call as a first responder for the White Pine Lake EMS. He’d been taking weekend duty once or twice a month since he came to town. It kept his emergency skills up-to-date and eased a little of the pressure off the core group of EMTs and volunteer firemen who were responsible for their friends and neighbors.

  Was Callie sleeping or was she lying awake, too? She had insisted on her mother coming home with her, since it had been raining hard when they left the clinic and she didn’t want to make the drive out to the farm again that night. As they fitted Karen with a temporary air cast, the two women had argued back and forth about Karen staying with Callie—Callie gently and firmly, Karen objecting more for form’s sake than anything else. Callie had won. Now Karen was sleeping at the duplex and he and Callie were back to square one with no chance of him explaining himself anytime soon.

  “How the heck did it all go wrong so fast?” Man, now he was talking to himself. He rolled out of bed and pulled on sweats and a T-shirt and wandered out into the main room.

  She hadn’t ranted and railed at him. He had helped Karen into the Jeep and shut the door, and then Callie had just looked at him, raindrops glittering like diamonds in her hair. She’d folded an umbrella she had found in the lost-and-found basket—a kid’s one, bright yellow with jungle animals all around the edge—and said, “You could have told me you were keeping secrets before you demanded I admit I’m in love with you.”

  “I kept it a secret from everyone because of how information flies around this town. And no, I’m not accusing you of not being able to keep a confidence, so don’t even go there.”

  “I wouldn’t, of course, but this just proves my point. I make my decision to stay. I find you might leave. We don’t really know each other, our hopes and dreams. We are only beginning to trust. It’s not enough, not yet.” He had shivered, and not just from the cold rain on his nape. It sounded so final the way she’d said it. She’d closed the silly little umbrella, handed it to him, got into the Jeep and drove away.

  He rested his hands on the windowsill and stared out into the night. They had stood together, really together, in the same place just twenty-four hours earlier.

  There was a storm somewhere out over Lake Michigan again, the same as last night. But tonight there was a difference; the lightning and thunder playing off in the distance caused him no anxiety whatsoever. His thoughts were all on how to redeem himself in Callie’s eyes, not the brutality and horror of a faraway war.

  The beeper he’d left on his bedside table went off. He waited, tensed, as the usual static and undulating tone that preceded an announcement from the emergency dispatcher played out. A few moments later her voice came through the speaker, calm and measured. “Thirty-eight-year-old female. Eight and a half months pregnant. Symptoms of possible stroke. Conscious and responding. Address—White Pine Lake Bar and Grill, 55 Lake Street, White Pine Lake. Please respond.” Adrenaline shot into his system, banishing the last remnants of sleep.

  Ginger Layman.

  He snapped on the overhead light and found his shoes. Thirty seconds later he had his truck keys in his hand and was headed out the door. Callie’s door opened and she stood silhouetted in the light. “Do you want to ride with me?” he asked. She didn’t have an emergency scanner in her half of the cabin, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that J.R.’s second call would be to his daughter.

  She shook her head. “No, go on, don’t wait for me. I’ll be right behind you. I just have to make sure Mom is okay.” She was wearing the same clothes she’d had on earlier in the evening. It was obvious she hadn’t had any better luck sleeping than he had.

  Five minutes later he slid to a halt in front of the restaurant. Off in the distance he heard the siren of the mobile unit as it pulled out of the firehouse two streets over. The town’s chief of police arrived, red and blue lights whirling. Two experienced EMTs, a married couple from a block away, slipped in behind his truck in a golf cart. Not bad response time for a group of volunteers in the middle of the night. He took the wet stone steps two at a time. J.R. met him at the front door. His expression was grim. “She’s in the dining room,” he said. “Hurry, Zach.”

  The ambulance unit pulled up, adding more red and blue lighting to the scene, overpowering the flashes in the sky. Lights came on in a couple of the cottages and motel rooms along the shoreline, but people stayed inside the buildings, watching from behind the curtains, avoiding the rain while satisfying their curiosity.

  The bar at the White Pine closed at 1:00 a.m., so only the staff was still on hand inside. Rudy Koslowski emerged from the ambulance along with Owen Carson. Rudy was the best driver they had. He’d have them in Petoskey within forty-five minutes of closing the doors on their patient. For anyone else it would be an hour. Rudy handed off the big metal toolbox that held their supplies and equipment to Owen, who hurried up the steps. Rudy followed more slowly. Zach took the heavy box from Owen. Just as he walked through the door, Callie arrived and double-parked beside the police cruiser.

  The dining room was filled with shadows and the lingering smells of good food. Only a single bank of lights above one group of tables near the kitchen door was lit. He was relieved to find Ginger seated at one of the tables and not stretched out on the floor. She was as pale as a ghost, her head resting on her outstretched arm, her right hand draped protectively across her distended belly. She was conscious and appeared alert. Zach knelt beside her and laid his hand on her arm. He put his differences with Callie out of his mind. He shut out all the extemporaneous conversations and movements around him, focusing solely on the woman in front of him. “Ginger, it’s Zach Gibson. Can you talk to me?” He opened the big box and pulled on a pair of latex gloves as he studied her.

  “Yes.” She attempted to sit up straighter. “I have the most incredible headache,” she gasped, resting her forehead on the palm of her hand. Zach pulled out a blood-
pressure cuff and applied it to Ginger’s arm. He wasn’t aware that Callie had entered the dining room until she came over, pulled out a chair and sat down beside Ginger. She’d thrown a nondescript raincoat over the coral lace top, but she still smelled of lavender shampoo. From that point forward, a tiny portion of his consciousness remained aware of every breath she took and every move she made.

  “Ginger, what happened? Dad said you got dizzy and fainted.”

  “I did get dizzy. I’m still dizzy, but I didn’t faint,” her stepmother insisted. “I bet it was my blood sugar. I didn’t get a chance to eat anything because we were so busy this evening. Callie, will you go up to the kids? They’re probably scared to death. I’m sure Becca is awake. How could she sleep with all the lights and the commotion right outside her window?”

  “I will, Ginger. In just a few moments,” Callie soothed.

  Ginger’s blood pressure was too high—dangerously high for a woman in her condition. Zach was relieved that she was coherent and so far had shown no signs of a stroke, but they needed to get her to the hospital as quickly as possible. He glanced up and caught Callie watching him, the worry in her eyes mirroring his own. From where she was sitting, she would have been able to get an approximation of Ginger’s blood-pressure reading just by watching the way the needle on the dial reacted. “Can you move your arms and legs?” he asked, continuing his evaluation.

  “Yes. It was just a dizzy spell.”

  “You fainted,” J.R. said bluntly. “She scared the life out of me. I found her sitting here slumped over the table when I came out of the bar to lock the front door. When I spoke to her, she just mumbled. I couldn’t understand a word she said. I called 9-1-1 immediately.”

  “I was just so dizzy it was hard to talk.” Ginger defended herself, but her voice lacked the force to be convincing.

  While J.R. was telling his story, Zach had checked Ginger’s blood sugar. It was low, which could account for the dizziness and the confusion, but he wasn’t willing to let it go at that. His gut was roiling, his instincts on high alert. Ginger had been exhibiting symptoms of preeclampsia for the past few weeks. With her blood pressure so high, she could go into convulsions at any moment. Callie feared that, too; he felt it. No matter what kind of turmoil their personal relationship was in at the moment, when it came to their patients, they were in sync. They were a team.

  “Have you had any contractions?” Callie asked her stepmother.

  Zach didn’t have a fetal stethoscope, so he used the regular one to listen to the baby’s vital signs. The heartbeat, while steady, was not as strong as it should be. He lifted Ginger’s right hand and studied her fingers. The edema was worse than he had observed a few days ago.

  “A few twinges now and then. I’ve been having them for a couple of days now. Everything’s all right with the baby, isn’t it, Zach?” she asked anxiously.

  “You haven’t said anything about having contractions,” J.R. said. He had kept his distance while Zach performed his exam, but as Callie moved her chair to give him room, he dropped to the balls of his feet beside his wife.

  “I didn’t want to get everyone all excited and worried.”

  “Honey, I’ve been excited and worried since the day you told me you were pregnant,” J.R. said with uncharacteristic emotion.

  “The fetal heartbeat is weak,” Zach said carefully. “Has the baby been moving as much as usual today?”

  Ginger lost even more color. Her face was ashen. She reached out and grasped J.R.’s hand with her own. “No. That’s not a good sign, is it?”

  “Let’s err on the side of caution. I recommend, and I’m sure Callie agrees with me, that you go to the hospital.”

  “Do I have to? Can’t we wait until morning?”

  “No, Ginger. Zach and I are in complete agreement. It’s not worth risking your health or the baby’s waiting around here.”

  “We’re going tonight. Now,” J.R. said firmly.

  “I can’t just disappear. I want my children,” Ginger said, stifling a sob. “Where are they?”

  “I’ll run up and check on them,” Callie offered.

  Ginger nodded. “Yes, please do.” Her eyes widened with dismay. “It’s so late. I’m sorry. I didn’t consider, we must have woken you from a sound sleep.”

  Callie laughed as she stood up. “Do I look that bad?” Her hand went automatically to her hair. Zach hid a grin. She was so successful at projecting that hard-boiled M.D. persona it always caught him by surprise when she did something as purely feminine as worrying about her hair. “I hadn’t even gotten to bed yet, Ginger. Zach and I have been at the clinic. Mom broke her wrist. Zach had just finished setting it when Dad’s call came in. It’s like being back in medical school, pulling an all-night shift in the E.R.” Except these people were her own. Zach realized her anxiety was as intense as anyone else’s whose loved ones were endangered, but she didn’t let it show.

  “Karen did what?”

  “She broke her wrist,” Callie repeated patiently.

  J.R. was reaching the end of his rope. “Is she all right? Is it a bad break?”

  Callie smiled, attempting to put her father’s mind at ease. Callie had been balancing between Karen and J.R. for years; she made it seem easy. But he suspected—no, he was certain—it took a toll. “She’ll be fine. She’s asleep at my place.”

  “Are you okay to leave her?” Ginger asked hesitantly.

  “And what about the twins? Perhaps Mac can look after them?” J.R. said, searching for options.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m their big sister,” Callie responded with a catch in her voice. “They’re staying with me. Mom will be fine at my place. The three of us will follow you to the hospital. Remember, Dad, I can’t have any say in Ginger’s treatment,” she reminded him gently. “She’s in the best of hands with Zach.”

  “We have all the confidence in the world in Zach. But I’d feel better having you there with us.”

  Callie smiled; the wonderful transforming smile she saved only for those closest to her. “I’ll be there, Dad. After all, that’s what family’s for.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “YOU HAVE TO STAY here, J.R. Who’s going to shut down the bar and lock up?” Ginger started to cry.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” J.R. said. “I’m going with you.”

  “We’ve got it covered, Mrs. Layman.”

  Callie swiveled her head in the direction of the speaker. She recognized one of the college kids who tended bar on the weekend. She hadn’t noticed him standing just inside the dining room, she’d been so focused on Ginger—and Zach. “I’ll lock up tonight, and Mac’s already called in to tell you both she’s got everything under control.” Mac, like a number of other citizens of White Pine Lake, monitored the emergency police band on a scanner. “You’re not supposed to worry about anything but yourself and the baby. Those are her exact words.”

  Good old Mac. Family wasn’t always connected by blood. Sometimes they just happened into your life one day and stayed there until they were as much a part of you as if you swam out of the same gene pool.

  “I want Becca and Brandon,” Ginger whispered, tears threatening again as she realized the futility of any further argument. “I want to show them I’m all right.”

  “I’ll go get them ready,” Callie said. “The ambulance won’t leave until you see them.”

  Zach took advantage of the opening Callie had just given him. He stood up, motioning to the other EMTs to bring in the gurney.

  Ginger shook her head. “I’m not leaving on a stretcher.”

  “Consider it an adventure,” J.R. said, helping her to rise from her chair. Zach took her other arm.

  “Mom!” Brandon erupted out of the service door to the kitchen. His hair was standing on end. He was wearing Avenger pajamas and his face wa
s streaked with tears. “Don’t leave us here alone. What’s wrong with you?”

  Ginger sat down heavily on the gurney. She held out her arms. “Come here, baby. It’s all right. I’m okay. I just had a dizzy spell, but Zach and Callie want me to go to the hospital to make sure the baby’s okay. Where’s your sister?”

  “We’ve been listening behind the door. She ran upstairs. She’s real upset. She says it’s her fault you’re sick! Because she’s been mean to you about the baby.” He flung himself into Ginger’s arms. “Don’t leave me.”

  “Callie?” Ginger’s eyes were full of tears. “Please—”

  Callie stepped forward, unhooking Brandon’s arms from around his mother’s neck and pulling him close to her side. He smelled of soap and fabric softener and little boy. “I’ll get Becca and Brandon ready, Ginger. We won’t be twenty minutes behind you, I promise.”

  “All right.” Ginger let the EMTs swing her feet up onto the gurney. “Callie will take care of you.”

  “Shh, buddy, it’s okay,” Callie soothed him, drawing Brandon out of the room. “Come with me. Let’s go find your sister.”

  “She woke me up. She said there were sirens and lights and they were headed this way. Then they stopped right out front! We couldn’t find Mom or J.R. and I got scared. Becca’s scared, too, but she won’t say so.” He was talking a mile a minute, trying to look over his shoulder at his mother, but Callie kept him moving steadily forward. She stopped to grab a handful of paper napkins from a table dispenser and handed them to him. He blew his nose.

  “Where is Becca now?”