A Knight for Nurse Hart. Laura Iding
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Название: A Knight for Nurse Hart
Автор: Laura Iding
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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But when she did have enough money saved to buy a house, she planned on adopting a dog, too. Hopefully one just as sweet tempered and beautiful as Rusty.
“There, now, let me take a listen to your heart,” Dr. Frank murmured as he stroked Rusty’s fur. The dog had been in bad shape when he’d been picked up as a stray, and he’d shied away, growling at men, which made them think he might have been abused. Raine didn’t know how long he’d been on the streets, but he’d been dangerously malnourished when he’d arrived. And he’d been sick with some sort of infection that had soon spread to the animals housed in the kennels near him.
She held the dog close, smiling a little when he licked her arm. “You’re such a good puppy, aren’t you?”
“He’s definitely doing better on the antiviral meds we’ve been giving him,” Dr. Frank announced, finishing his exam. “Let’s move on to Annie, the golden retriever.”
Volunteering at the shelter had saved her from losing her mind in her dark memories. Raine found she loved working with the animals. The hours she spent at the shelter flew by. She barely had enough time to run home to change, after dropping off Dr. Frank, before heading off to work.
As she entered the emergency department, she saw Caleb standing in the arena. When his gaze locked on hers, her stomach knotted with tension. Was she really up for this? Working in Trauma with Caleb? She quickly glanced around, looking for the charge nurse, determined to avoid being assigned to his team.
Unfortunately, there were only two trauma-trained nurses on duty for the second shift, so she had no choice but to work in the trauma bay. And, of course, Caleb was assigned to the trauma bay as well.
Her stomach continued to churn as she took report from the offgoing nurse. As they finished, a wave of nausea hit hard, and she put a hand over her stomach, gauging the distance to the bathroom.
She swallowed hard, trying to figure out what was wrong. Could she have somehow gotten the virus that seemed to be plaguing the animals at the shelter? She’d have to remember to ask Dr. Frank if animal-to-people transfer was even possible.
Sipping white soda from the nearby vending machine helped and Raine tried to concentrate on her work. They’d transferred their recent patient up to the ICU but within moments they’d received word that Lifeline, the air-rescue helicopter, had been called to the scene of a crash involving car versus train.
Sarah, the other trauma nurse on duty, was restocking the supplies so Raine used the few moments of free time to head into the bathroom.
As she fought another wave of nausea, she leaned over the sink and thought of Elana. This must be how her friend had felt with her horrible bouts of morning sickness.
Her eyes flew open at the implication and she stared at her pale reflection in shock. Could it be? No. Oh, no. She couldn’t handle this.
Her knees went weak and she sank down onto the seat of the commode. Counting backwards, the sickness in her stomach threatened to erupt as she realized it had been just over four weeks since her last period.
Chapter Three
DEAR God, what if she was pregnant?
No, she couldn’t be. There was just no way she could handle this right now. Especially considering the circumstances under which she might have conceived. She shied away from the dark memories.
She didn’t have time to fall apart. Not when there was a serious trauma on the way. Car versus train, and the train always won in that contest. She took several deep breaths, pulling herself together with an effort.
She couldn’t think about this right now, she just couldn’t. It was possible she had flu, nothing more. She had to stop jumping to conclusions. She’d been through a lot of stress lately. Far more stress than the average person had to deal with. There were plenty of reasons for her period to be late. And it wasn’t really late. She could get her period any day now.
But the nagging fear wouldn’t leave her alone.
She used the facilities and then splashed cold water on her face in a vain attempt to bring some color back to her cheeks. She stopped in the staff lounge to rummage for some crackers to nibble on as she made her way back to the trauma bay.
The pager at her waist beeped. She glanced at the display. Thirty-five-year-old white male with multiple crushing injuries to torso and lower extremities. Intubated in the field, transfusing four units of O negative blood. ETA five minutes.
Five minutes. She took another sip of white soda and finished the cracker. She couldn’t decide if she should be upset or relieved when the cracker and white soda combination helped settle her stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Caleb demanded when she entered the trauma bay a few moments later. “You look awful.”
“Gee, thanks so much,” she said sarcastically. “I really needed to hear that.”
“I’m sorry, but I wanted to make sure that you’re okay to work,” Caleb amended. “The trauma surgeon has requested a hot unload. We need to get up to the helipad, they’re landing in two minutes.”
“I’m okay to work,” she repeated firmly, determined to prove it by not falling apart as she had last night. Every day was better than the last one—hadn’t her counselor stressed the importance of moving forward? She was living proof the strategy worked. “Let’s go.”
She and Caleb took the trauma elevators, located in the back of the trauma bay, up to the helipad on the roof of the hospital. At first the confines of the elevator bothered her, but she inhaled the heady scent of Caleb’s aftershave, which pushed the bad memories away and reminded her of happier times. When they reached the helipad, they found the trauma surgeon, Dr. Eric Sutton, was already standing there, waiting. Lifting her hand to shield her eyes against the glare of the sun, Raine watched as the air-rescue chopper approached. The noise of the aircraft made it impossible to speak.
When the helicopter landed, they waited until they saw the signal from the pilot to approach, ducking well below the blades. The Lifeline transport team, consisting of a physician and a nurse, helped lift the patient out of the back hatch of the chopper.
“He’s in bad shape, losing blood fast,” the Lifeline physician grimly informed them. “In my opinion, you need to take him directly to the OR.”
“Sounds like a plan. We can finish resuscitating him there,” Dr. Sutton agreed. “Let’s go.”
In her year of working Trauma, she’d only transported a handful of patients directly to the OR. They all squeezed into the trauma elevator around the patient, Greg Hanson. She kept her gaze on the portable monitor, trying to ignore the close confines of the elevator as they rode back down to the trauma OR suite located on the second floor, directly above the ED.
The elevators opened into the main hallway of the OR. The handed the gurney over to the OR staff who were waiting, taking precious moments to don sterile garb before following the patient into the room.
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