Heart of Hearts (Nurses of New York Book 4) by Amelia C. Adams

Author:Amelia C. Adams [Unknown]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-09-07T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

This time, it was Dr. Dearing himself who burst into Frank’s office. “She’s gone,” he said, breathless as though he’d run all the way down the hall. “She convulsed again and was gone before I could do anything.”

Frank could see the distress on his colleague’s face. He clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder and guided him to a chair, glancing at Miss Cantrell. Reading his mind as she so often did, she put down her dust cloth and poured a glass of water from the pitcher that stood on a table in the corner.

Dr. Dearing took the glass with a trembling hand. “I really thought we had a chance with her. But after four hours of surgery . . . I suppose the odds were too great.”

“You did everything you could,” Frank said, returning to his chair. “That was one of the most complicated surgeries I’ve ever witnessed, and you performed it skillfully. I don’t know what else could have been done.”

“You know how it is, though, Doctor—we always question ourselves, wondering what we could have done differently.” He took another sip and then placed the glass on the desk. “Ida Beth is beside herself. She and the patient spent some time talking before the surgery, and they struck up a bit of a friendship.”

“What was her name?” Miss Cantrell asked from where she stood in the corner.

“I beg your pardon?” Dr. Dearing blinked, as though forgetting she was there.

“The patient’s name. I’ve never once heard it mentioned.”

“Oh. Um, it was Carol. Carol Green.”

“Thank you. I’ll go sit with Ida Beth.” She bobbed a quick curtsy and left the room. Frank supposed that was more for Dr. Dearing’s benefit than his own—he’d never demanded or expected that sort of formality from her.

He picked up his pen and made a notation on the paper in front of him. Carol Green. When he filled out his log book later, he’d want to record that.

As he brought the pen down to create the G at the beginning of “Green,” another stab of pain shot up his arm, and he dropped the pen onto the desk. Thankfully, it wasn’t as noticeable as a cup of punch all over a dress, and Dr. Dearing didn’t seem to notice.

Frank laid his arm on his lap and massaged it with his other hand, wondering if the muscles were contracting and needed to relax. “Where is Mrs. Green’s husband?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual, as if nothing whatsoever was happening.

“At home, with the children. She came in by herself.”

That wasn’t ideal—most patients did best if a family member was nearby while they underwent treatment. However, Frank doubted anything would have kept this woman alive—he saw nothing in the surgery that Dr. Dearing overlooked or did poorly.

“I can’t figure out the reasons for the convulsions,” the man went on, speaking more to himself than to Frank. “That’s never happened before. It was like her body went into shock because of the procedure.” He blinked and looked up.

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