Falling Again for the Single Dad Page 15

  “And if not?” Amara pursed her lips as she passed out another sample.

  “Then, everyone will get to taste what happens when Dr. Eli Collins burns a recipe,” Eli said, trying to pretend that his insides weren’t turning to liquid. He too was terrified of what Dr. Henricks would say, but waiting, even an hour, didn’t seem possible. Amara needed to know now.

  They needed to know now.

  “Go,” Eli insisted. “I can’t mess things up here too bad.”

  “You’ll do fine.” Amara’s voice wavered a bit, but he knew it wasn’t because of his cooking abilities. He’d do anything to be able to take the fear away from her.

  The line of people happily accepted their small cups of curry and took the packet of recipes Amara had made. All blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling through Eli. As the final person stepped up, he turned to look for Amara. He didn’t know where she’d gone, but he needed to find her. Now.

  Eli hastily wrote out a sign and placed it in front of the cooking station, then ducked out of the tent. Amara was sitting on a bench overlooking the small garden Boston Gen. maintained. Her head was buried in her hands, and her shoulders were shaking.

  God, no...

  Despite the fear almost paralyzing him, Eli forced his feet to move. Amara needed him. He sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. When she turned and pressed her lips to his, he felt the wetness along her cheeks.

  Amara pulled away and smiled. “It’s only scar tissue.”

  Eli felt his mouth fall open. Part of him had been preparing for the worst for the last ten days. He wanted to jump up, to shout with joy, to take her home and make love to her all night, to cry... All the emotions poured through him. “I... I...” Eli wiped a tear from his cheek as a chuckle escaped his lips.

  “I know. Dr. Henricks apologized for scaring me. He went into the office after attending the fair and saw the results. He thought I might not want to wait until Monday to hear,” Amara whispered. “I’ve been sitting here laughing and crying for the last few minutes. I’m just so happy.”

  “I love you.” The words were quiet in the garden. “I never stopped loving you, Amara, and you know it wouldn’t have mattered what Dr. Henricks said. I—”

  Amara placed a finger against his lips. “You’re rambling.”

  “I know. I’ve wanted to say those words for so long, but I probably could have planned a better time.” Eli placed his head against her forehead. She was healthy and here with him.

  Amara sighed as she leaned into him. “I love you too.”

  Eli kissed her hard, then spun her around. “Should we go finish the last bit of the fair? Or do you want to cut out early?”

  Amara grabbed his hands. “Let’s go finish this thing!”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “SORRY WE LOST, ELI. Although your winning streak was bound to end eventually,” Amara said as she held up her ice cream cone. After a long day behind the stove, Eli’s desire for ice cream had sounded delightful.

  “I did win.” Eli’s lips were sweet as he kissed her. “You love me. And I got to enjoy some amazing culinary delights. Most importantly—” he squeezed her tightly “—you’re healthy. That definitely warrants an ice cream celebration.”

  “I love you, Eli—I may never tire of saying that.” It was such a cheesy statement, but she didn’t care. She loved him, and he loved her, and for once, all Amara’s worries and doubts seemed to have evaporated.

  “I hope you don’t,” Eli whispered as he closed in for another kiss.

  “Dad!” A scream erupted from the front of the restaurant.

  Eli pulled back, and they moved together toward the commotion. An older gentleman was lying on the floor, surrounded by people. Amara tapped the counter and forced the employee to look at her. “Call 911. Now. Tell them that a person has collapsed, and there’s a doctor and nurse on-site.” She waited just long enough for the teenager to nod and grab the phone before turning to another employee. “Do you have a defibrillator?”

  The teen blinked at her, and Amara grabbed his shoulders. “Do you have a defibrillator?”

  “I’m the manager. There’s one in the back,” a woman called as she raced to the rear of the restaurant, away from the chaotic scene.

  “I need everyone to move back,” Eli shouted before leaning over the man.

  Amara moved beside him and felt for a pulse. Nothing. “I can’t find a pulse.”

  “He’s not breathing. I’m starting compressions,” Eli stated.

  Where was the defibrillator?

  Amara had listened to many health professionals discuss the different public crisis situations they’d found themselves in. She’d been grateful to never have anything to add to the discussion. At the hospital, she had options for helping a patient, machines that spit out readings. Here there was nothing but their training and hope to rely on.

  “Switch out with me,” Eli instructed as he counted the compressions. It was standard training. If there was more than one person, it helped to rotate compressions to avoid fatigue.

  “Found it!” The manager dropped beside Eli and handed him the box containing the automated external defibrillator as Amara continued compressions. “Sorry, it was plugged into a back outlet in the office. I don’t know that I’ve seen it in years. This place is constantly putting stuff in odd places. I once found a—”

  “Thank you. Can you give us a bit of room?” Eli was polite but firm. Many people got overly talkative in crisis situations. Amara had seen more than one doctor or nurse in the hospital snap at a bystander. It was a natural response to stress, but Eli just asked her to step away. His tone was kind but authoritative, and it worked.

  Dust covered the top of the AED pack. Amara managed to keep herself from cringing. Would the device work? Her arms were starting to get tired, but she kept going while Eli prepped the machine. It booted up, and she saw his shoulders relax a bit. He obviously hadn’t been sure it would function either.

  Amara moved her arms while Eli cut the man’s shirt and placed the shock pads against his chest before resuming compressions. Then she lifted her arms as the AED ordered the shock. Please...

  The man’s son let out a moan as the AED failed to register any heartbeat following the shock, and Eli took over from Amara.

  She strained her ears and heard a siren in the distance. Time raced ahead as the AED set up its next charge. Following the second shock, it registered a heartbeat, and the relief among the restaurant patrons was palpable.

  Amara and Eli didn’t shift their positions. They needed to be ready if his heart stopped again.

  When the ambulance finally screeched to a halt outside the building, Amara felt her insides begin to relax. She and Eli stepped back as the paramedics raced in. Eli quickly relayed what they’d already done before stepping away to let them work. The paramedics nodded to Amara and Eli as they prepped the man for transport to the hospital.

  The man’s son hurriedly offered Amara and Eli a thank-you before rushing after his father. “You’re welcome,” Amara called, though she doubted he heard her.

  She sighed as Eli wrapped an arm around her waist. She stared at the departing emergency vehicle as the bystanders started to go back to their seats. At least they’d been able to give the patient a chance.

  “Thank goodness you and your wife were here.” The manager beamed as she stepped in front of them.

  The assumption surprised her, and she looked to Eli while letting out a soft giggle. Shaking her head, Amara said, “Nope. We’re not married.”

  But maybe one day.

  The thought brought another smile to her lips. Eli was the one she wanted to spend all her days with. He belonged with her.

  And she with him.

  “Oh.” The woman looked at Eli’s arm around Amara’s waist and blushed. “You just work so well together. Of course, c
olleagues,” she muttered before wandering off.

  “Colleagues?” Eli laughed and shook his head. “I feel like there are half a dozen terms I’d use before that.”

  Amara’s stomach danced as her lips touched his cheek. “Such as?”

  “Let’s see, partners, lovers, my...”

  A young woman tapped his arm to grab Eli’s attention. “You’re Dr. Eli Collins, right?”

  Eli nodded. “Yes. Sorry, do I know you?”

  “I’m Lia Trupee, a reporter with Channel 4. I saw you at Boston Gen.’s health fair. Can you give me a brief rundown of what happened here?” The blonde nodded to Amara but kept her focus on Eli.

  After giving a brief statement on the events in the restaurant and refusing to comment on the likely outcomes for the patient, Eli transitioned the conversation to some of Boston General’s perks. Amara beamed as he talked about what the hospital had to offer and the expertise of its professionals. She wasn’t sure Lia would use any of his additional commentary in the article, but the pride radiating off Eli was contagious.

  * * *

  “Look, Boston Gen. is in the paper!” Susan handed a copy to Eli and Griffin.

  “I didn’t realize people still bought the paper.” Griffin smirked as Susan glared at him. “They do when their friends and hospital make the news,” she told him.

  Griffin frowned as he turned the paper over. “Do you mean the small paragraph on page six regarding Eli and Amara stabilizing a heart attack patient who didn’t even arrive at our hospital afterward?”

  Amara had followed up on the man they’d treated in the fast food restaurant. Mr. Thomas March was recovering well at Marshall’s hospital. Eli had tried to follow up with his father too, but all Marshall had said was that the patient was in the city’s best hands. Eli hadn’t responded to the not so subtle insult.

  But it still stung.

  “Very funny.” Susan slapped her copy of the paper against Griffin’s arm. “We rarely see our hospital or its employees in the paper. Lighten up.”

  Eli read over the small paragraph. He knew that all his comments regarding Boston General couldn’t have made it into the local paper. But it would have been nice if they had mentioned just a few of the hospital’s selling points. Would it have killed the paper’s bottom line to praise the hospital where the “heroic medical professionals,” of their article actually worked?

  “Eli.” Amara stepped beside him. “Mrs. Delgado’s daughter is here.”

  “Did you see the article?” Eli asked as they walked back to the room.

  “I think Susan has shown it to everyone. Don’t tell her, but I think ‘heroic medical professionals’ is a bit much.” Amara rolled her eyes before crossing her arms. “A warning—Mrs. Delgado’s daughter isn’t happy.”

  Eli paused a few steps from the door. “Why?” Dealing with difficult patients and their families was unfortunately common in the ER.

  The woman’s mother, Helen, had a bad chest cold, and as a precaution, she had been brought in by one of her nursing home’s caregivers. Mrs. Delgado had just had her ninety-first birthday, and most of her issues were age-related. Eli had recommended rest, fluids and monitoring. He’d just started the discharge paperwork when Susan brought the newspaper over.

  “Not sure. She wanted to talk to a doctor. Not just some nurse.” Amara sighed, but he could see her frustration.

  Nurses were the lifeblood of any unit. But many people saw them as unimportant assistants to the doctors. He’d explained to more than one patient that he hadn’t run an IV since his last year of residency, but that most of the nursing staff could do it in under a minute with their eyes shut.

  “I’m sorry, Amara.” She was one of the best he’d ever worked with, and it was a shame that anyone would question that.

  “Thank you. But it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” She waved her hand. “Just annoying. By the way, the daughter’s name is Sylvia Mora.”

  He was in awe of her as they walked into the room. Amara was certain that she was a good nurse. She never doubted that she did her job well. Never let the cutting statements of others touch her. If only Eli could figure out how to let the jabs roll off him too.

  Sylvia Mora was pacing back and forth, barking into her phone. As her eyes latched on to them, she hung up without saying goodbye to whoever was on the other end. “Have you done blood work on my mother?”

  The tiny woman in the bed let out a soft snore, and Eli sighed. “Your mother has a chest infection. It will clear with a few days of rest and fluids. As we age, our veins weaken. If we take her blood, which I assure you will not give us a different answer than chest infection, we run the risk of her veins blowing or collapsing. That is painful, and she’ll have bruises for at least a week—probably longer. I don’t want to put her through any unnecessary discomfort.”

  Mrs. Mora glared at him. “Have you taken a chest X-ray?”

  “No. I listened to her lungs,” Eli explained.

  “She could have pneumonia,” Mrs. Mora shouted. “And you are refusing to do your duty.” Her screech echoed in the small room, and still, the woman in the bed didn’t stir.

  Eli took a small step toward Mrs. Mora and offered a reassuring smile. No medical intervention could stop the passage of time. But many people often weren’t ready to accept the inevitable end, and Eli understood that too.

  Keeping his voice level, he started, “When people hit a certain age, they’re—”

  “So, because she’s old, you think you can be lazy. Why on earth did her nursing home bring her here? Worst hospital in Boston.”

  “No, it’s not,” Eli argued. He was stunned by how much that cut. Mrs. Mora was worried about her mother, but her perception was wrong. Very wrong. Boston General had some of the finest physicians and nurses he’d ever had the opportunity to serve with. Including the one standing next to him.

  Amara gripped Eli’s arm before addressing Mrs. Mora. “Your mother is resting comfortably, and her chest infection will clear in a few days on its own. Any other hospital would tell you the same thing.”

  Mrs. Mora held up her phone and started scrolling through a website. “Really, would Dr. Anderson at Massachusetts Research tell me that? She has a five-star rating on RateMyMD.com.”

  What was RateMyMD.com? Eli had no intention of asking Mrs. Mora that question, but he promised himself that he would investigate it later. “Yes,” Eli replied, “She would tell you the same thing.” He was certain of his diagnosis, and no amount of blood work or chest X-rays would change it.

  Mrs. Mora turned back to her phone and furiously started typing before holding up her phone again. She grabbed her purse. “You only have three and a half stars, so you’ll excuse me for wanting the best for my mother.”

  Three and a half stars?

  Eli knew it was ridiculous to care about ratings on an internet app. It didn’t mean anything, but a niggle of uncertainty bit into him.

  Who had found his care lacking?

  “Dr. Collins is one of the top ER professionals in the state. He speaks at conferences and is well-respected by his peers.” Amara leaped to his defense, but Eli waved her down.

  “Your mother’s discharge papers will be ready shortly. Her chest infection will clear in a few days, and she’ll be fine.”

  “You’re right—she will be fine.” Mrs. Mora picked up her purse. “Because as soon as we leave here, I’m taking her to Massachusetts Research.”

  Eli nodded but couldn’t force out any words. If Mrs. Mora wanted to take her mother for a second opinion, that was her right. But he wanted to know what RateMyMD.com was saying about him...and Boston Gen.

  * * *

  “It looks like a star-based system, where patients rate their experiences,” Eli stated.

  Amara looked at the lines drawn across his forehead and gripped his hand. “Eli, these sites pop up and g
o dark all the time. It’s strangers making random complaints.”

  Eli nodded, but he continued to flip through the reviews. “I know that, but several doctors have updated their own profiles in here to indicate they were nominated for the annual report.”

  If Amara could discontinue that report, she’d do it in a heartbeat. It was useless, but Eli was still obsessed with it. She frowned as he showed her the stats for two other Massachusetts Research doctors.

  Grabbing his cell, Amara stared at it. “These apps don’t matter.” Amara read out one of Eli’s five-star posts. “‘Dr. Eli Collins is one of the best! He joked with my son and kept him entertained while putting a cast on his ankle.’”

  Amara pulled up another.

  “‘Dr. Collins is responsible for my father being alive at Christmas. He realized his headache was a brain bleed.’ You can’t hear those words and think you aren’t great.”

  If he wanted acceptance from strangers, why couldn’t Eli focus on these reviews?

  Eli shrugged. Pulling up a few of the one-star reviews, Amara glared at them. Most were complaints about wait times. One woman complained that the food in the cafeteria was cold. They had nothing to do with Eli. Nothing! “Everyone gets a bad review. It doesn’t mean anything. I love you, so shall I leave you a five-star review?”

  “I love you too, but if you want to leave a review...” Eli sighed as he grabbed the next chart. “I’m kidding. You’re right, Amara, of course. It’s just a dumb app.”

  Except that she wasn’t sure he believed that. Or believed in himself. Eli patted her hand, and Amara wished there was some way she could silence his inner critic.

  “You’re right. Love you. Thank you for keeping me grounded.” He smiled, but the cloud of uncertainty still hovered in his eyes.

  * * *

  “I think we should look at vacation spots for next year.” Amara slapped an Italy tour guide on the stack of papers in Eli’s lap.

  He looked up as he set his papers on the coffee table.