needed to help get away from the memories. Plus, he figured he should help Jess raise Lizzy, as they didn’t have any other family left. And he wasn’t interested in going down that path again. Having and losing one family in a lifetime was bad enough.
Rick left work early so he could catch a couple of hours’ sleep, just in case he had a busy call night. He didn’t sleep well, but managed to get a little rest. He showered and dressed, then left to pick up his niece.
The father-daughter dance wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d expected. The gym of the elementary school had been decorated with streams of crepe paper and dozens of balloons. The disc jockey played songs, took requests and held a dance contest. He and Lizzy participated but his lack of coordination hindered their chance of winning. He managed to participate in the chicken dance, though, and if he felt like an idiot, flapping his arms like wings, he considered it lucky that no one he knew was around to see him.
For a few songs the DJ played some sort of rap music that hurt his ears. Thankfully, the girls preferred dancing with each other, leaving the dads and surrogate dads to stand around, awkwardly talking about sports and wishing for something stronger than punch to drink. He caught himself glancing at his watch and wondering how Naomi was doing. For her sake, he hoped the trauma calls weren’t too bad.
Finally, the DJ announced the last song, and he danced once again with Lizzy. Her head barely reached his chest, but they managed to get through the whole number without him stepping on her toes.
“Thanks, Uncle Rick,” she murmured, gazing up at him with wide, adoring brown eyes. “I’m so glad you could come with me. I was so sad to think I might have to sit at home alone tonight.”
The thought of Lizzy feeling sad and lonely made him doubly glad Naomi had helped him out. “Hey, I’m the lucky guy who got to dance with the most beautiful girl in the world.”
“Oh, brother.” She rolled her eyes, but blushed and giggled. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s true.” He took her hand as they headed toward the door, and glanced down at her. “I love you, Lizzy.”
“I love you too, Uncle Rick.” She flashed him a dazzling smile, and just for a moment he imagined that his daughter Sarah would have looked at him in the same way, six years from now.
A sharp stab of pain caught him off guard and he dropped his car keys. Fumbling, he picked them up and then held the door for Lizzy so they could walk outside. A thick fog hung over the school parking lot, so he used the key fob to help locate their car.
Pulling himself out from under a cloak of painful memories, he helped Lizzy inside and then walked around to the driver’s side. He started the car and carefully drove out of the parking lot, moving slowly because of the dense fog. Luckily his sister’s house wasn’t far. He was headed in that direction when his pager went off.
With a frown, he pulled the car over and read the text message from Naomi. Multi-vehicle crash with five peds victims expected, one DOA at the scene. I’m going to need help.
“Is there a problem?” Lizzy asked, her freckle-dusted nose wrinkling in a frown.
“Yeah, I’m going to have to go back to the hospital tonight.” Still driving slowly, keeping a careful eye out for other cars, he pulled into his sister’s driveway and left the car running while he took the time to see Lizzy safely inside the house. “See you later, kiddo.” He gave her a quick hug. “Tell your mom I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“I will. Bye. Thanks again.” Lizzy waved as he dashed to his car and backed out of the driveway.
Adrenaline surged as he drove toward Children’s Memorial, the short ride taking twice as long as usual. He didn’t doubt that the heavy fog had contributed to the MVA. Five peds victims was almost unheard of when the average was a couple calls a night. He supposed he should be thankful that the crash had taken place after Lizzy’s father-daughter dance had ended.
Fifteen minutes later he strode into the E.D. and found Naomi up to her pretty neck in pediatric trauma victims. There were three youngsters in the trauma room, ages ranging from eight to fourteen, each looking worse than the next.
A wave of guilt for asking Naomi to switch shifts with him hit him.
“Where do you want me to start?” he asked. Naomi was still the surgeon in charge, and he didn’t want to automatically take control of the situation she’d already begun to handle.
“Take a look at the youngest over there.” She pointed to the victims closest to the door. “I think he needs to go to the O.R. We’re going to have to split up, one operating on patients while the other continues triaging patients down here.”
He glanced around, noting the level of activity. “Split up? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“We don’t have a choice.” Naomi’s gaze was grim. “These are only the first three victims—there are still two more on the way. We need to clear a few of these patients out of here before the next ones arrive.”
CHAPTER TWO
NAOMI wished she could have avoided bothering Rick, but there were too many victims for one trauma surgeon to handle. This many pediatric trauma patients was unusual, but apparently there was a special kids’ night being held at the baseball park and lots of kids had been in the cars that had crashed. As she was already triaging, she decided to send Rick to surgery.
“You’d better take this patient to the O.R.” She gestured to the youngest patient, Jimmy Dupont, an eight-year-old with a tense abdomen. “I’m pretty sure he has a ruptured spleen, he’s lost too much blood. If you can take him off my hands, I’ll manage the rest of the triage down here.”
“All right.” Rick didn’t argue, but motioned to the nurse hanging another unit of blood. “Let’s go. I’ll change clothes when we get to the O.R.”
In the back corner of her mind she realized Rick was wearing a suit and tie, but there wasn’t time to resent how he’d used her to cover for a hot date, not when she had so many patients to care for. She turned her attention to the situation at hand, feeling as if she was standing in the middle of a war zone.
“All right, I want the twelve-year-old female, Chelsey Dupont, transferred to the ICU.” She’d already intubated Chelsey and placed a chest tube for the girl’s collapsed lung. Out of all the trauma patients they’d received so far, Chelsey had been the first to arrive and was the most stable of the bunch. The PICU residents upstairs could handle her care for a little while.
“I want Tristan Brown to get a CT scan of his chest and belly.” She suspected fourteen-year-old Tristan had a severe liver laceration, but needed to make sure it was nothing more. He also had a compound femur fracture and had already called the ortho surgeons to take a look at him.
“Doc?” Tristan reached out for her as the nurses began to wheel him away.
“What is it, Tristan?” She stopped them, and took his hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s my sister? Where’s Emily?”
She bit her lip, hoping to heaven that Emily wasn’t the child who’d been declared DOA on the scene. “I don’t know. How old is she? There are still a few victims on the way.”
“Seven. Emily is only seven.” Tristan’s eyes were wild with anxiety. “You have to find her for me. Our parents were hurt, too. I need to see Emily.”
The whole family. She swallowed hard and gently squeezed his hand. “I’ll find Emily but we need to take care of you, too, Tristan. The nurses are going to take you to Radiology for a CT scan of your belly. I need to make sure there’s nothing more serious than a few broken bones.”
“I don’t care.” His eyes filled with anguished tears. “Find Emily, Doc. Please, find my sister. Tell her I love her.”
“I will.” She released his hand and stepped back so the nurses could