Reunited with the Children's Doc
Yazar
Susan Carlisle
Okur
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When two broken hearts find each other again, will they have the courage to risk it all for a happy-ever-after? Since losing her son, Marcy has had a single focus: researching a cure for cancer. Meeting Dr. Dylan again is unexpected, and his compassionate warmth invades the fortress around her heart. Marcy's even more beautiful than he remembers, but Dylan's been abandoned too many times. As they fight for their patients' lives, an irresistible passion flares between them. Dare they put themselves on the line again for a shot at happy-ever-after?
CHAPTER ONE
âMORNINâ, DR. NELSON,â said the staff tech of the cancer center as Dylan pushed through the clinic doors.
âGood morning,â he called over his shoulder, not slowing down.
âYou have company today,â the tech returned.
He hesitated a step. âOh, yeah, I do.â As lead pediatric oncologist at Atlanta Childrenâs Hospital, he had patients waiting, along with a full schedule. And now a researcher was here to do a new drug trial. He entered the Infusion Room and pulled up short. Aliza, one of his sweetest and sickest patients, was talking to a slim woman with her back to him. His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. Something about the woman sitting on a rolling stool looked familiar.
Dylanâs heart squeezed when Aliza laughed and smiled. Both were rare. For the stranger to draw them from Aliza shocked him. He continued to watch as the woman worked with the port in the childâs chest and carried a conversation in the calmest of manners.
Who was this winning over his most difficult patient and undertaking the care that he or one of his nurses should provide? It had taken him months to get Aliza to trust him and this woman had already achieved it. What kind of miracle worker was she?
He approached.
Alizaâs mother looked at him. âHi, Dr. Nelson.â
The woman turned and Dylanâs footsteps faltered. Marcy.
The galloping of his heart had nothing to do with racing up the stairs. Dylan had never expected to see Marcy Wingard again, yet after all these years sheâd turned up in his department. Heâd thought of her many times during the fifteen years since heâd last seen her. Had compared more than one woman to her.
His startled gaze locked with her wide-eyed one. Yes, the same green eyes but with a wariness in them heâd not seen before. The shock he felt matched the look on her face.
âDylan?â Circles of pink graced her cheeks. âUh... Dr. Nelson?â
âYes.â
She glanced at the girl and mother. âIâm Dr. Montgomery. I was told youâd be coming in. I was just telling Aliza and her mother here about how I got lost on the way to the hospital this morning.â
Montgomery? Oh, yeah. She must have married. âSounds like I need to hear that story sometime.â He forced his attention back to Aliza. âHow are you doing this morning?â
âIâm fine.â The girl looked at her hands.
Dylan crouched on his heels beside the girlâs lounge chair, getting to her eye level. âSo whatâs going on here?â He spoke to the child, noting the thin strands of hair where once there were beautiful yellow ringlets. His words were meant for Marcy. He was protective of his patients. Dylan didnât want other doctors interfering with them unless he was present. He needed to know what Marcy was really doing there.
He couldnât help but be particular about how his patients were treated or approached. Beau, his boarding school roommate, had developed cancer while they were in school. His friendâs experience had influenced Dylanâs style of care. Heâd heard Beauâs complaints about how he was treated and taken them to heart. Dylan vowed early in his career not to be the doctor who didnât take time to get to know his patients and listen to them. Even to this day he heard Beauâs voice in his head when he first met a patient. Thankful Beau had survived to talk to Dylan regularly over the phone.
âWe were just getting acquainted,â Marcy said.
Dylan stood then spoke to Aliza and her mother, who sat beside her daughter. âIf youâll excuse us, Iâd like to speak to... Dr. Montgomery for a moment.â
âSure,â Alizaâs mother said.
He stepped to the nursesâ desk and Marcy followed. Heâd not seen her since college. Theyâd been lab partners their senior year of undergrad and he wouldâve liked for them to have been more. To his deep disappointment, heâd been forced to accept nothing was going to happen between them.
âUh... Marcy itâs good to see you.â He cleared his throat. âWhat a surprise.â
âFor me as well.â Her words sounded more formal than necessary for old friends. At one time they had been friends. Good friends.
Marcy looked the same, just a few years older. Sheâd aged well. She was the one that had gotten away. Heâd had his fair share of women since...heâd even been engaged and deep into wedding plans when his fiancĂ©e had broken it off. It still hurt.
âHello, Dylan. I had no idea you were working here.â She touched her hair as if checking to see if it was in place. The Marcy heâd known had worn it loose, wild and free unless she had to tie it back for their work in the lab.
He remembered all too well the brush of her long chestnut-colored hair against his cheek as they leaned over a notebook, working on an experiment. Today it was shorter. It was pulled tightly back and secured at the nape of her neck. He preferred it unbound.
More often than he wished to admit, Marcy had traveled through his mind when he least expected it. Heâd checked social media a few times to see if he could find her, just to see what she was doing, but hadnât found anything but professional information.
âSo youâre the research doctor I was told to expect.â
âYes, thatâs me. Sorry I didnât mention that sooner. I was just surprised to see you.â
âMe too.â
âDr. Nelson, would you please come check this port?â a nurse asked from nearby.
âMarcy, if youâd excuse me. I need to see about this.â He turned, almost grateful for the chance to collect himself.
âMay I come with you? I need to get to know your patients. After all Iâll be working with them for the next few weeks.â
âSure. Iâll introduce you.â At least he couldnât fault her bedside manner with Aliza. If she was that good with all his patients, he could let his guard down. He shielded them where he could. They were already under stress and fearful, and not feeling well from medicine that should be helping them. Dylan pulled a stool near his patientâs lounge chair and sat. âHi, Lucy. Howâre you doing today?â
The girl smiled.
Dylan always enjoyed seeing that expression because too often his patients didnât feel like giving him a smile. âNurse Racheal says I need to have a look at your port.â He glanced toward Marcy. âDo you mind if my friend Dr. Montgomery has a look too?â
âItâs okay,â the girl said.
Marcy moved so she stood at his shoulder.
âLucy, will you pull your T-shirt out of the way for me? I promise this wonât take long.â Dylan helped the girl adjust her shirt so he could see the port clearly just below her left shoulder. He searched for redness around the site.
âIâve never seen an implantable venous access port placed like that.â Marcyâs voice held a tone of disapproval.
Dylan ignored her. Now wasnât time to discuss that. Especially in front of a patient. âLucy, Iâm going to need to touch your skin around the port. You tell me if it hurts.â He pressed his fingertips against the girlâs skin, moving in a clockwise motion. Dylan made it almost all the way around before the girl winced.
âIt hurts there.â Lucy gave a squeak of an answer.
âI think we should take a closer look in the lab.â He gave Lucy a reassuring smile. âWhy donât I meet you in the port lab in a few minutes? Iâll take this port out and in a few weeks weâll place another.â
Mrs. Baker, Lucyâs mother sagged. âYou mean weâll have to wait to get this started?â
âYes, I know it seems like a setback but itâs only for a few weeks.â Dylan continued, âLucyâs going to be fine. You wait right here, and Iâll send someone to get you when Iâm ready.â He patted the girl on the shoulder.
He sensed Marcyâs rigid posture as she followed him across the open room toward the port lab.
When they reached the lab and were out of hearing from everyone else, Marcy asked, âWhy was the port put in that way?â
Dylan faced her. âBecause I didnât do it. It was done across town at another hospital. Lucy became unhappy there and her mother brought her here. She didnât want to take the port out if we didnât have to. Lucy had already been through enough trauma. I agreed but warned them this might happen.â
âSo whatâre you thinking?â
âThat it might be an infection brewing.â His mouth tightened.
âI saw the small area of redness.â Marcy still had sharp eyes. âCould be tunnel cellulitis in the superior vena cava?â
âMaybe but I donât think so. The situation is rare and that would be more so. Weâll pull it out and try antibiotics then see. If you want to be in on the procedure you need to gown up.â
Fifteen minutes later Marcy stood like a statue beside him. An uneasiness he couldnât describe circled her. Lucy and her mother sat in chairs against the wall, neither of them looking happy.
His attention returned to his patient. âI hate to say it, but I think youâre gonna need to have a new port,â he said to the girl then looked at her mother. Tears fell from Lucyâs eyes. âI donât like it any better than you do but itâd be worse if we put medicine in and it didnât go where we need it to. Trust us. Weâll take care of it.â
The mother nodded. âWe do trust you to know whatâs best.â
Dylan smiled. âI hope we never abuse that trust.â
âLucy,â Dylan said, âwhy donât you get up on the table here. Iâll need you to lie down.â To the mother he said, âMichelle, Iâm going to have you kiss Lucy then wait for her outside in the waiting room. This will only take a few minutes.â
The girl scrambled up on the exam table using the footstool. Michelle kissed and hugged her. âIâll call your dad and tell him to pick up some ice cream on the way home. I think weâll both deserve it.â
âChocolate syrup too?â Lucy asked, the fear still hanging in her voice.
Her mother gave her a weak smile. âChocolate syrup too.â
âI may need to get an invite to that.â Dylan came to stand beside the bed.
âYouâre welcome anytime,â Michelle said over her shoulder as she left the room.
Lucy lay on the table in the port lab with tears in her eyes. Marcy seemed to be having much the same reaction but was covering it better.
Two nurses entered wearing the same sterile cover-ups.
Dylan smiled down at Lucy. âDr. Montgomery will be here with me today, okay?â
The girl nodded. âItâs okay.â
Marcy stepped to the table. âWould you like me to hold your hand? I know that always helps me.â She offered her hand, and Lucy took it.
Marcy gave the child a reassuring smile. âIf it hurts just squeeze my hand.â
Lucy nodded.
Dylan liked the care Marcy gave the child. As if Marcy had been through this before. âThis shouldnât take long but Iâm going to make you a little sleepy first.â
âJust like last time?â
âJust like last time.â Dylan prepared the pain medicine. He checked around the port after the nurses had removed the protective covering, and then glanced at Marcy. Her complete attention remained on the girl as if willing her not to have any pain.
He was impressed. Most research doctors spend so much time in the lab they forget how to have empathy for a patient. Apparently not Marcy. She was great with them. Marcy had been easy to be around in college. Her disposition served her well in these situations.
Lucyâs eyes drooped.
Clipping the sutures holding the port in place, he asked, âMarcy, would you hold this open while I pull the port out?â
She nodded, letting go of Lucyâs hand. Taking the long surgical tweezers, she held it steady. He gently pulled the nickel-size port out from under Lucyâs skin along with the catheter. Quickly one of the nurses applied a bandage and pressure to the opening. Marcy placed the instrument in a dish the other nurse held. Moments later a nurse applied butterfly strips and a bandage to Lucyâs chest.
âHow long before she can have another port put in?â Marcy asked.
âAt least three weeksâ
She winced. âCanât you do it sooner? The wait will be horrible and her parents will be in a panic at the delay. How could this happen?â
âTake it easy, Marcy. We must have patience here. This doesnât happen often, but I want to give the antibiotics time to work. Iâll place the next port below this one.â He spoke to one of the nurses, âWould you tell her mother she can come sit with Lucy until she wakes. After that she can go. Iâd like to see Lucy back on Thursday.â
âIâll take care of it.â The nurse left the room.
A noise from the area of the Infusion Room grew into rhythmic rapping. A voice sang out while the others harmonized. Marcy asked, âWhatâs going on?â
Dylan stripped out of his protective covering and she followed his lead. They left the room to stand in the infusion area. A young dark-skinned teenage boy led a group of other patients around the same age all singing and taking a part. Their harmonizing sounded wonderful. They finished the song with a slap of their hands against the loungers they all lay on. The smiles were contagious. The staff and parents clapped.
âTheyâre good,â Marcy said.
Dylan grinned. âYeah, until they make up one about you. Now I have to interrupt them to check on their chemo, then I have clinic this afternoon. Youâre welcome to join me. It would be a good chance for you to review charts and put faces to patients.â
âIâd liked that. Iâll review what charts I can and start determining canadines for the trial on Monday.â
âSounds like a plan.â
Marcy moved on into the room behind Dylan. She couldnât have been more surprised to learn he was the head of the cancer clinic where she was doing her trial. She would never have thought in a million years theyâd both become oncology doctors. Life had a way of taking you down roads you hadnât thought possible. She knew that better than most.
Dylan walked toward the patient whoâd sat to the right of Lucy. He turned to Marcy. âDo you mind waiting here a moment? Dan is a particularly sensitive patient. This is stressful for him, and I donât want him upset. Iâll check with him first, then introduce you.â
Marcy nodded. She understood. Her son, Toby, hadnât always welcomed new faces especially at his young age. Dylanâs dark chocolate gaze regarded her before he gave her a slight nod.
Dan sat in the first tan cushioned lounge chair next to a window. An IV pole stood beside his bed and a small individual TV hung on the wall.
Dylan rolled up a stool beside the patient. âHowâre you doing today, Dan?â
âI am okay.â
âJust okay?â Dylan pulled his stethoscope from around his neck.
He glanced back to where Marcy stood looking at the charting pad. Dylan tilted his head toward her. âThatâs Dr. Montgomery. Sheâs going to be helping us here for a few weeks. Sheâd like to meet you. I think youâll like her. Would it be okay if she joined us?â
The ten-year-old boy studied Marcy for a moment then nodded his agreement. Would Dylan have turned her away if the boy had said no? She felt like he would have. He acted protective of his patients. She liked that. It showed he cared. Tobyâs doctor had the same boundaries. It was nice to know a doctor thought of his patients first and treated them as people.
Dylan waved her over with a small motion of his fingers. âDan, Iâd like you to meet Dr. Montgomery.â
âHello Dan.â Marcy smiled as her chest tightened. Toby wouldâve been about this boyâs age if heâd lived. She couldnât help Toby, but she believed she had the answer to giving this child many more years of life.
âHey,â the boy said weakly.
âHowâre you doing?â Marcy pulled a stool up beside Dylan.
You can do this.
She hadnât expected to have so much interaction with the patients. Sheâd expected to do medical procedures, not to get to know them as individuals. Dylan knew them all by their first name. How did he handle it when he lost one?
Dylan studied the chemo IV line running through an infusion machine attached to the rolling pole stationed beside the boyâs chair. âDan, donât you usually play a video game?â
The boy quirked his mouth. âThey forgot to bring it to me. Itâs okay. I get tired pretty easy, so I have a hard time not taking a nap.â
Marcy blinked. Toby had slept more than normal trying to regain his strength after chemotherapy.
âIâll see that a nurse brings it to you just in case you feel like playing. Maybe weâll try to get a game in.â Dylan patted Danâs shoulder. âYou only have a few more weeks before this chemo round will be finished. Then you can get back to school.â
The boy gave Dylan a sad look. âI hope my friends still remember who I am.â
âIâm sure they will,â Marcy offered before she thought about speaking.
A warm look flickered in Dylanâs eyes before his attention returned to Dan. âEverything looks good. Iâll see you next week.â
âIâll be here. Mom says I have no choice.â
Dylan chuckled. âMoms have a way of making us do what we donât want to.â
âBye, Dan. It was nice to meet you.â With a tight chest Marcy joined Dylan as he moved to the next patient. She continued to follow him around the room, seeing all the patients there for the day. Each one climbed to the top of her emotional pile and sat, but she never let on. Instead, she focused on the children and Dylanâs interactions with them. To her amazement he knew all their names.
The last patient in the line of chairs was a seventeen-year-old girl. The smile on her face when she saw Dylan said it all. She had a crush on her doctor.
âHey, Mindy. Howâre you doing?â Dylanâs smile was bright.
The girlâs cheeks pinked, and she touched a turban on her head where her hair should have been. âPretty good.â
âThatâs always nice to hear. We doctors like to know we arenât making our patients too sick. This is Dr. Montgomery. Sheâll be helping me out for a few weeks. Do you mind if she has a look at you?â
Marcy gave the girl a reassuring smile.
Mindyâs smile dimmed. Sheâd obviously rather have Dylan doing her exam. âYeah, thatâs okay.â
Marcy took the lead in checking the chemo setup, making sure the infusion level was correct per the chart. âMindy, Iâll need to get your vitals.â
She pulled on her faded cloth hospital gown. âOkay. Donât you just love these gowns. So attractive. Iâm going to design some cute ones when I get well. So that cancer patients can have something pretty to wear.â
Pulling the stethoscope from around her neck, Marcy prepared to listen to Mindyâs heart. Sheâd never thought about hospital wear for patients. They were rather drab and ugly. âThat sounds like a fine idea.â
âIâve already started making sketches. Would you like to see them?â
âSure, I would.â Marcy moved on to taking Mindyâs respirations and pulse.
Marcy glanced at the teenâs mom. She knew the pain in the parentâs eyes too well. That hit too close to home. Still, Marcy refused to let her pain show. She had a job to do here, one she planned to do well.
Years ago, sheâd been like Mindyâs mother. Walking around in constant fear. If she got as personally involved as Dylan, could she continue to hold it together? The next few weeks would tell. After all this time sheâd believed that wouldnât be a problem. That she could compartmentalize the patients and the work, remaining unemotionally involved. Dylanâs way of dealing with patients certainly wasnât that.
Heâd finished up with Mindyâs charting then double-checked her chemo flow. âYou look good today. Iâll see you next week. You donât have many more weeks of this.â
âI hope so. This doesnât make for a great senior year.â
Dylan smiled and patted her arm. âNo, it doesnât but itâs necessary.â
She curled up her lips. âI donât have to like it.â
Dylan chuckled. âNo, you donât. With your attitude you should be fine. Be ready for the prom.â
âWhoâs going to want to take me to the prom. I donât even have any hair.â
Dylan gave her a reassuring smile. âBy then you should have some.â
âI hope so.â Mindy didnât look encouraged.
âYou just wait and see.â
Marcy leaned in close as if to share a secret. âIâd believe him. Iâve known him a long time.â
Mindy smiled.
Finished with seeing patients, Dylan asked, âHow about getting some lunch with me? We can catch up.â
She shook her head. âI wish I could, but I have some calls to make and a few details to review before I start this trial.â
âOkay.â She sensed his disappointment as his lips tightened. âMaybe later, then. Iâll meet you here in an hour.â
âIâll be here.â She went to the small closet she had been given to serve as an office.
It had been nice to learn that Dylan worked at Atlanta Childrenâs. Nervous and out of her element with doing actual work with patientsâand more disturbing, children with cancerâshe couldnât help but be pleased to see a friendly face.
Still as good-looking as she remembered, his shoulders were broader and sturdier than they had been in his youth. He seemed taller as well. What hadnât changed was his ready smile. It might be the one thing sheâd missed most about him.
It had already taken great emotional fortitude for her to come here. If she hadnât taken this chance, then the drug sheâd been working on for years might not see its way to helping children. Sheâd devoted her days, many nights and holidays to work. This drug must be successful. With it might come a promotion which would give her updated equipment, along with a chance to focus on cancer advancements in the future.
Later, as she walked down the hall, she saw Dylan standing beside the doors of the Infusion Room. She blinked. He was certainly tall, dark and handsome. Where had that thought come from? Sheâd not noticed a man in years. How could she? Sheâd rarely left the lab.
His head tilted a moment as if questioning her reaction before his look turned serious. âThe clinic is located in the building across the road.â They started walking. âIâve not even had a chance to ask you how youâve been. I canât get over you being here.â
âIâve been good.â She wasnât about to tell him sheâd lost a child to cancer or had a failed marriage. âAnd just as surprised to see you.â
âYou were great this morning with the kids. I was wondering how much experience you have with clinic work?â
She shrugged. âNot much really. You know how we lab people areâwe donât come out much.â Her in particular. Work had become her life. Her life saver. âWhy?â
âI know this is going to sound controlling, but I still have to say it.â Dylan took a deep breath. âMost of the patients weâll be seeing in a few minutes are scared. Their parents are as well. Adding another stranger in their life, asking them to do something theyâre even more insecure about, might tip them over emotionally.â
âI understand.â She didnât need to be told that. She remembered her fear as a parent too well.
âAlso try to speak at their level. Catheter is a tube. Superior vena cava is an artery in the neck. No fancy medical talk.â
âI have no intentions of upsetting your patients, but I do need to have contact with them to complete my research. Itâs time sensitive. At some point Iâll need to ask them questions. I donât have the time to ask you for permission before every interaction I have with a patient.â
He stopped, giving her his full attention. âI understand that. I just want you to hedge on the side of caution.â
âThen thereâs no problem.â She held his look.
âWhat Iâm saying is, this needs to be all gently and calmly presented.â He started walking again.
She hurried to keep pace with him. âCancer is a nasty disease that doesnât wait on us to be nice. We must eradicate it. What I learn from your patients can save others.â
âIâm interested in saving these patients and doing it without creating more emotional scars. Like fearing life.â
Emotional scars she could understand well. Her scar tissue was thick. âI promise to follow your lead.â She would until she couldnât. Her work was important too. The drug must be tested so that these children could have the chance to live when others hadnât. Others like Toby.
