Moonlight Over Manhattan. Sarah Morgan

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      “Forget it.” Susan was passing again, this time in the other direction. “No one lies down in this place. Unless they’re dead. When you’re dead, you get to lie down and only after we’ve tried to resuscitate you.”

      Tony watched her go. “Is she always like this?”

      “Yes. Comedy is all part of the service. Laughter cures all ills, hadn’t you heard? What did you want, Tony? I thought you said it was an emergency.”

      “It is. Rob Baxter ruptured his Achilles running in Central Park. He’s going to be off his feet until after Christmas. This is close to a crisis for the pediatric department, but even more of a crisis because he is Santa and we don’t have a backup.”

      “Why are you telling me this? You want me to take a look at his Achilles? Ask Viola. She’s a brilliant surgeon.”

      “I don’t need a surgeon. I need a backup Santa.”

      Ethan looked at him blankly. “I don’t know any Santas.”

      “Santas are made, not born.” Tony lowered his voice. “We want you to be Santa this year. Will you do it?”

      “Me?” Ethan wondered if he’d misheard. “I’m not a pediatrician.”

      Tony leaned closer. “You may not know this, but Santa doesn’t actually have to operate or make any clinical decisions. He smiles and hands out presents.”

      “Sounds like my average working day,” Ethan said, “only here they want you to hand out MRIs and prescription pain meds. Gift-wrapped Vicodin is this year’s must-have.”

      “You are cynical and jaded.”

      “I’m a realist, which is precisely why I’m not qualified to deal with wide-eyed children who still believe in Santa.”

      “Which is exactly why you should do it. It will remind you of all the reasons you went into medicine in the first place. Your heart will melt, Dr. Scrooge.”

      “He doesn’t have a heart,” Susan muttered, eavesdropping shamelessly.

      Ethan glanced at her in exasperation. “Don’t you have patients to see? Lives to save?”

      “Just hanging around to hear your answer, boss. If you’re going from Scrooge to Santa, I need to know about it. In fact, I want to be there to watch. I’d work Christmas just to see it.”

      “You’re already working Christmas. And I’m not qualified to be Santa. Why would you think I’d agree to this?”

      Tony looked at him thoughtfully. “You get to make a child’s day. It doesn’t get any better than that. Think about it. I’ll call you in a week or so. It’s an easy and rewarding job.” He strode out of the department, leaving Ethan staring after him.

      “Dr. Scrooge,” Susan said. “How cute is that.”

      “Not cute at all.” Surely Tony couldn’t be serious? He was the last person in the world who should play Santa with wide-eyed believing children.

      He noticed one of the interns hovering. “Problems?”

      “Young woman with an ankle injury. Badly swollen and bruised. I’m not sure whether to x-ray or not. Dr. Marshall is busy or I would have asked him.”

      “Is she on the hunt for Vicodin?”

      “I think she’s genuine.”

      Because Ethan knew the young doctor didn’t have the experience to know if someone was genuine or not, he followed him through the department. Vicodin was an effective painkiller. It was also a commonly used recreational drug, and he’d ceased to be surprised at the lengths some people would go to get a prescription. He didn’t want anyone dispensing strong painkillers to someone who was simply hoping to get high from Vicodin.

      His first thought when he saw her was that she was out of place among the rainbow of humanity that decorated the halls of the emergency room on a Saturday night. Her hair was long, and the color of creamy buttermilk. Her features were delicate and her mouth was a curve of glossy pink. She was wearing one shoe with a heel so high it could have doubled as a weapon. The other she held in her hand.

      Her ankle was already turning blue.

      How did women expect to wear heels like that and not damage themselves? That shoe was an accident waiting to happen. And although she seemed normal enough, he knew better than to let appearances dull his radar for trouble. A few years before, a student had presented with toothache, which had turned out to be a way to get pain meds. She’d overdosed a few days later and been brought into the emergency room.

      Ethan had been present for her second visit, although not her first. It was a lesson he’d never forgotten.

      “Miss Knight? I’m Dr. Black. Can you tell me what happened?”

      It must have been a great party, he thought as he examined the ankle.

      “I twisted it. I’m sorry to bother you when you’re so busy.” She sounded more than a little embarrassed, which made a change from the two patients he’d seen immediately before her, who had taken his care as their God-given right.

      He wondered what she was doing here on her own on a Saturday night. She was all dressed up, so he doubted she’d spent the evening on her own.

      He guessed she was mid to late twenties. Thirty possibly, although she had one of those faces that was difficult to put an age to. With makeup she could look a little older. Without, she could pass as a college student. Her eyes were blue and her gaze warm and friendly, which made a refreshing change.

      Generally speaking, he didn’t see a lot of warm and friendly during his working day.

      “How did you twist it?” Understanding the mechanism of the injury was one of the most helpful ways of piecing together a picture of the injury. “Dancing?”

      “No. Not dancing. I wasn’t wearing shoes when I twisted it.”

      He watched in fascination as her cheeks reddened.

      It had been a while since he’d seen anyone blush.

      “So how did you do it?” Realizing she might think he was after details for his own entertainment, he clarified. “The more details you give me, the easier it is for me to assess the injury.”

      “I jumped from a window. It wasn’t far to the ground but I landed awkwardly and my ankle turned.”

       She’d jumped from a window?

      “You’re a bit of a risk-taker?”

      She gave a wry smile. “My idea of risk is reading my Kindle in the bath so no, I don’t think I’d describe myself as a risk-taker.”

      Ethan’s senses were back on alert. Instead of thinking possible addict, or potential adrenaline junkie, he was thinking possible abuse victim. “So why did you jump?” He softened his tone, trying to convey with his voice and СКАЧАТЬ