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............Part
Seven........
Dr. Early was unavailable, due to a severe head injury brought into the ER. Dr. Jim Newman strode into John Gage's room almost as soon as he was paged, still studying the man's chart as he pushed open the door.
The dark-haired man in the bed wore an expression of suppressed panic.
Dr. Newman came to the bedside. "Mr. Gage, I'm Dr. Jim Newman."
The patient looked at him in desperation, "Gage... is that my last name?"
Jim did his best to hide his surprise. Such complete amnesia was very rare. "Yes. Your name is John Roderick Gage," he told the confused man in a carefully calm, even tone.
"Mr. Gage..." he continued.
"Johnny..." his patient interrupted. "I think.... I feel like.... I'd rather be called Johnny."
"All right, Johnny. I'm going to do some tests, now, to check your neurological function." After doing the neurological exam and finding no obvious deficits, Dr. Newman sat down in the bedside chair and began asking a series of questions designed to discover exactly how profound the man's amnesia was.
It was almost total.
"All I can really remember, " Johnny said slowly, still confused and upset, "Is a woman.... Jo.... Joanne." He looked at the doctor, and then towards Roy. "Is she... my wife?"
Roy gave a low chuckle, "No, Johnny, she's mine. You're not married."
"Oh." John lay back onto the pillows. The single real memory left in his skull replayed once more.....
He was on a small porch, just outside the open front door. He was in... some sort of uniform. Not military... Police? He was happy, he knew that.... and he knew, too, that he cared deeply for the green-eyed, darkhaired woman standing on the threshold. She put her hands on his shoulders and brushed a kiss across his cheek. "I'll see you later," she said, "Be safe!"
The memory ended there, dissolving like a melting frame of film in a projector. He glanced at the man who claimed to be his partner. Partner in what? And-- if she's his wife--- what was going on between us?
****
The little girl looked towards the familiar voice. Her lip began to tremble. "Miss Dixie? Where's my Mom, and Chris?"
Dix sat down on the treatment table and gathered the child into her lap. "The doctors are helping them right now, just like Dr. Morton is helping you."
Jennifer began to sob, burying her face against Dixie's shoulder. "Mommy's head was bleeding, and Chris's arm was all bent and they wouldn't wake up!"
"Shhhh.... I know, Sweetie. I know that was so scary. But the doctors are taking good care of them, I promise," she soothed. She couldn't bring herself to tell the little girl that everything would be all right. It was quite possible that her mother would never be 'all right' again, if she even survived. Chris, too, had yet to regain consciousness, and that was worrisome.
"I want... I want my Daddy!" the child wailed.
Dix closed her eyes an instant. Roy was only a few floors away, still blissfully unaware that his family had been devastated. He had to be told--- and Dix couldn't bring herself to delegate that unpleasant duty to anyone else. "Tell you what, Jenny-love, " she smiled, giving the child another hug. "Dr. Morton is going to have a nurse take you up to a room, and I'll go get your Daddy and send him down."
Jennifer sniffled, but managed to stop sobbing. Dixie took a handkerchief out of her pocket and dried the little girl's tears, wiped her nose. She dropped a kiss onto her dirty forehead. "You get all comfy in that bed, and I'll be up in a little while and bring you a present, ok?"
"Ok," Jennifer nodded, still snubbing a bit.
With a last, comforting hug, Dixie left the treatment room. She caught Carol's attention as the other nurse hurried past. "Carol, I'm going up to Three, to let Roy DeSoto know what's happened."
An expression of shared distress flashed across Carol's sensitive features. She didn't envy Dix her task-- and Roy.... his world was about to crumble. "I'll cover for you, Dix. Take as long as you need." My break can wait.
"Thanks, Carol, " Dixie replied, then glanced down the hall. "Hold the elevator, please!" she called and hurried towards the waiting car.
****
"Hello, Dixie," her elevator mate smiled pleasantly.
"Hello, Kent," she answered, and glanced away, afraid he would catch something--unusual-- in her expression. After that one insane, incredibly wonderful evening, they'd never exchanged more than casual or work-related conversation. By unspoken consent, the ER nurse and the young resident had silently agreed that their tryst would never be mentioned, would certainly never be repeated.
Her hand slipped once more to her lower abdomen.
Dr. Donalson looked at the nurse with concern. "Dix, are you ok?" She seemed pale, shaken.
"Yes, Kent, I'm.... no, I'm sorry, I'm not fine, " she backtracked. "Roy DeSoto's family was just brought in. There was a gas explosion at their home."
"Oh no!" Kent blurted, his hazel eyes going wide with shock and concern. "How badly are they injured?"
Dixie shook her head sadly. "His wife came in with a severe head injury, fractures, and moderate burns over about a quarter of her body. His son has a broken arm, and hasn't regained consciousness, either." She stopped, feeling her throat close.
"Doesn't he have a daughter, too?" Kent asked with soft sympathy.
"Yes, a seven year old, Jennifer. She's ok, only minor burns and bruises, but she's very shaken up." Dixie sighed. "Roy's upstairs, with John. He... he doesn't know about his family yet."
"And you got elected to tell him," Kent surmised.
"Volunteered," Dixie corrected, with a bitter twist to her mouth.
Kent squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. The elevator door slid open.
****
Intent on her next duty, Alica left Gage's room. So sad, so scary, to think about not even remembering your own name. It would be like.... not existing.
Absorbed in that rather metaphysical line of thought, she plowed full speed into the obstruction in her path. "OOF!" Her file went sliding across the floor, strewing papers in its wake. She almost hit the floor herself, but was grabbed and steadied on her feet.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" she burst out, and looked up into a pair of solemn blue eyes. Oh, am I ever sorry! "Craig! I... I didn't see you!"
"Obviously," he replied with a small smile as he released her, then crouched to help her gather up the scattered pages. She stuffed them back into the file and stood. "Craig, I'd like to...."
The bell went off on the call board once again. She glared at it. Mrs. Olsen, if you ask me to hand you that phone one more time...
"See you later at the track?" she called back over her shoulder as she hurried down the hall.
"Of course!" he answered. They did, after all, have a standing routine now, as they trained for the marathon. He resumed his course. A carelessly creased piece of paper skittered across the tile, nudged by his foot. He bent and retrieved it. "Alica?" he said, turning, but she'd already disappeared.
As he glanced down at the paper again, his own name caught his eye. He unfolded it carefully. His eyebrow lifted. Craig Brice refolded the paper with geometric precision and razorsharp creases. He tucked it into his shirt pocket and securely buttoned the flap. He continued down the hall, with a bit more bounce to his step and a small smile on his lips.
****
Carol glanced up from her chartwork at the sound of several low-toned male voices. The firefighters of Station 51 entered the ER as a group. Their concern was plain in their expressions, the tone of their voices. They passed a few feet from the duty desk. Captain Stanley stepped closer. "Excuse me," he asked. "Has there been any word on the DeSoto family?"
"No, I'm sorry, Captain. Not yet." She stepped out from behind the desk. "Come down the hall, to the Doctor's Lounge."
Hank nodded. Sadly, he was well familiar with the routine. They all were. Carol walked along with them. She intended to make sure there was fresh coffee-- and to be near him.
She fell in step beside him, her heart aching for him. His steps dragged wearily, he was so touchingly concerned. She ventured to reach out, laid her hand on his shoulder.
"It's so hard to wait, isn't it?" she said in soft empathy.
He glanced at her and gave her a wan smile. "Yeah, especially when it's something like this."
Encouraged, she kept her hand on his shoulder, patted it softly. That small contact seemed to send a warmth through her bloodstream like strong wine. A bit reluctantly, she stepped away long enough to check the coffee maker and pour a steaming cup... for him. She allowed her fingers to linger on the back of his hand as she handed him the cup. "If there's anything you need, or want, let me know," she said softly.
She has such a beautiful, soothing voice. Chet looked into her eyes, eyes as dark as polished jet. What's her name? Karen? No! Carol! "Thank you, Carol, I will."
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