Part 4
Leah pushed the crutch out of her way and placed her hands in the center of Owen’s chest.
The first compression brought back the feel of a different room, gloves slipping, Daniel’s fingers going loose. She set her shoulders over her hands and kept the rhythm.
“Stay here, Owen.”
Footsteps came fast along the corridor. Dr. Sloane entered with the code team as Tessa steered the crash cart through the door. Someone cut Owen’s shirt. Someone fitted a breathing mask over his face.
Leah counted until the clinician beside her was ready to take over.
She moved back only far enough to let him work. Her eyes stayed on Owen’s face.
The monitor showed electrical activity without a pulse. With the sudden collapse, recent surgery, and fractured leg, Dr. Sloane suspected a major clot in the lungs.
“Get the clot treatment here now,” she told the team.
There were risks after surgery. She made the decision without delaying compressions.
A pharmacist hurried out. An airway was placed. Tessa read back orders, her voice unsteady but clear.
When the two-minute interval ended, Leah was ready on the other side.
She took her turn again.
Minutes accumulated in the short announcements from the nurse keeping time. Five. Ten. The muscles across Leah’s back began to burn. She changed with the next person, caught her breath, and watched the monitor without blinking.
Curtis stood beyond the doorway, hands locked behind his head. Tessa wiped her face against her sleeve between tasks.
After fifteen minutes, one of the doctors spoke quietly about whether they were approaching the point of stopping.
Leah was back on compressions.
“Give him this round.”
Dr. Sloane kept the team working.
Leah pressed down again. Her hair had come loose against her cheek. Someone moved it out of her eyes, and she kept counting.
At the next check, Dr. Sloane held up a hand.
Leah lifted hers from Owen’s chest.
The doctor’s fingers stayed at his neck for several seconds.
“Pulse is back.”
Tessa made a sound she couldn’t quite swallow. The room filled with fresh orders.
Leah sat back against the cabinet. Her hands hovered uselessly above her knees before she covered her face with them.
In the lounge, Sadie slept through the alarms.
Beverly had gone straight to her when Leah ran. She held the child against her chest, rocking in the chair while the code team worked. An old hymn stayed low in her throat. Every time footsteps hurried past, she tucked the blanket closer around Sadie’s feet.
When the corridor finally quieted, Beverly rested her cheek on the child’s curls.
Owen reached intensive care shortly after four. Leah completed her reports, checked the last tasks of her shift twice, and went upstairs when another nurse relieved her.
The team had stabilized him. By the time she was allowed to sit beside him, the breathing tube had been removed and oxygen flowed through a small tube beneath his nose.
She lowered herself into the chair.
Without his habitual scowl, he looked younger. There was tape residue at his cheek and a small crease between his eyebrows. His hand rested palm up on the blanket.
Leah put hers in it.
She meant to stay awake until the doctor returned. Instead, she drifted off with her head tipped against the chair and woke to his thumb moving over her knuckles.
Owen was watching her.
“You didn’t leave.”
His voice sounded scraped raw.
Leah gave a wet, startled laugh. “You’re stuck with me, Calder.”
He smiled. She leaned closer so he wouldn’t have to force his voice, and his fingers tightened around hers.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. Leah tipped toward him, no longer pretending she only wanted to hear him.
His thumb stilled against her hand.
At the desk outside, a night supervisor was writing on a clipboard. Earlier, during the emergency, she had seen Beverly in the staff lounge with a small child in pajamas asleep on her lap. She looked once toward Leah, then returned to the form.
The door opened.
The hospital administrator, Mr. Ellison, stood just inside with a security officer behind him.
“Ms. Mercer. Step outside, please.”
Leah stood so quickly that Owen’s hand slipped from hers.
Ellison held out a flat plastic tray.
“Your identification badge.”
She looked from the tray to his face.
“A child was kept overnight on the patient floor and was on the unit during a resuscitation. You’re suspended immediately. The board will review your employment next Thursday.”
Owen tried to sit higher against his pillows.
“Wait.”
Leah unclipped her badge and laid it in the tray.
The security officer moved aside to let her through.
For eight days, she wasn’t permitted back on the unit.
At home, she spread bills across the kitchen table and worked through them with a pencil. Rent. Electricity. Groceries. The figures didn’t improve when she rearranged the papers.
She could cover another month. Perhaps a second if nothing went wrong.
Sadie colored at the other end of the table and occasionally pressed her stethoscope against Leah’s wrist.
“Bear better?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
Beverly sent updates between shifts.
Oxygen’s off.
Sat in the chair today.
Keeps asking about you both.
Leah read each message more than once. She typed questions, erased them, and finally sent short replies thanking Beverly.
Each night she sat down on her bed. The shoebox was visible beneath it, pushed beside an old pair of shoes.
Once she pulled it out and lifted the lid.
The money orders were still arranged by month. She could have paid the rent without doing any more arithmetic.
She replaced the lid and slid the box back.
Her nursing shoes stood by the closet where she had left them after the suspension. She cleaned them, although they were already clean, and set them together again.
On Wednesday evening, after Sadie had fallen asleep, Beverly’s name appeared on her phone.
Don’t come alone tomorrow. Bring Sadie. Wear your good blouse.
A second message followed.
Please trust me on this…
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