blinked in surprise. “Me?” she squeaked. “I’m not an OR nurse.”
“I know this is out of the ordinary, but I’m not asking you to perform the operation.” Miklo gave a sideways smile. “He hasn’t let go of your hand even under the sedation. Having a friendly face in the OR will go a long way to keeping his stress level down and my repairs in place.”
Jeannine looked down at Roberto’s gauze-covered face and then at the intensity in Miklo’s. Could she refuse to help either one of them? “You’re right. I know that having staff who care about you helps you heal faster.” She was living testament to that. When her fiancé had fled in the face of her tragic illness, she had looked to her family, friends, and the nurses who had cared for her to get her through the worst of her crisis. She gripped the metal side rail with one hand. With her other hand, she touched the neck of her uniform.
“You sound like you have some personal experience in that arena,” Miklo said, watching her with those dark, dark eyes.
Before she could answer, she was interrupted by frantic, rapid Spanish being yelled down the hallway. “I think the father’s here,” Jeannine said with a cringe.
“I’ll get him.” Miklo left the room and returned shortly with a hysterical man who spoke non-stop between sobs.
Miklo explained the situation to him, pointing out the problems of the facial injuries, the IV, and what the plan was. Jeannine produced a clipboard with the Spanish consent form, and the father signed it with a trembling hand. After returning the clipboard, he took a handful of tissues that Jeannine offered him. “Estoy apesadumbrado,” she said, one of the few Spanish phrases she knew, and she was sorry for his pain.
Miklo squeezed the man’s shoulder in a gesture of support as he wiped his tears from his face. “Gracias,” he said, and shook Miklo’s hand as well as Jeannine’s. Tears gathered in her eyes as he struggled to control himself.
CHAPTER THREE
ROBERTO clung to her hand as Jeannine walked alongside the gurney to the OR. Images she tried to suppress of her own recent trips to the OR attempted to insinuate themselves into her mind, but she forced them back. Now was not the time for a trip down the memory lane from hell.
Miklo bent over the stretcher. He had quickly changed into OR scrubs and a bandanna-style head cover. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a toy race car and placed it in Roberto’s hand, curving the little boy’s fingers around it.
“What do you have there?” she asked.
“Just a little something for him to hold.” Miklo shrugged and offered a quick smile. “I’ve found that children do better with some little token that they hold through procedures. Officially, it’s called a transitional object, but I just like to call it a car.” He shrugged, seeming to dismiss the idea.
Jeannine smiled. “That’s a great bit of insight.” She leaned over and stroked Roberto’s hair back from the bandages on his face. “I should have thought of that.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he said.
“Really, it is. Not everyone would go to such lengths to see to the comfort of their patients. Especially the little ones.”
“It’s just a toy car…”
“That will go a long way to keeping Roberto’s stress level down.” She looked at the little car clutched in the bruised fingers. “I could have used one myself not long ago.”
Miklo watched as her mind seemed to wander a bit. What could she have meant by that comment? Observing the slight tremor of her hand, he guessed that it had something to do with the recent change in status she had alluded to yesterday. But it was none of his business. Getting overly involved with staff members’ lives wasn’t part of his job.
He had enough on his plate trying to live with the guilt that still plagued him daily. Taking care of patients and running his practice was all he could handle. Every time he handed a car to a child he was reminded of how he had failed in his life, how he had neglected his pregnant wife when she had needed him most, and of the child that would never be.
Jeannine’s soft hand on his arm startled him from his haunted memory. Looking up, he met her concerned aqua gaze. “Sorry?”
“I said, ‘Are you okay?’” she said, and removed her hand.
Miklo rubbed a hand down over his face. “Lost myself there for a moment. Let’s get this boy inside, shall we?”
“Of course,” Jeannine said, and watched as the man strode to the scrub sink.
After he turned away, a woman dressed in green scrubs approached Jeannine. “I’m Dr. Harrison, anesthesia.”
“Hi. I’m a little lost as to what to do next,” Jeannine said.
Dr. Harrison picked up a syringe and administered medication of some sort into the IV tubing. In seconds, Roberto was completely under. “He’ll sleep now,” Dr. Harrison said, and started to push the gurney down the hall. “Are you coming inside with him?”
“Dr. Kyriakides asked me to come along for emotional support.” Jeannine didn’t know quite how much support she was really going to be able to give Roberto, but she would try her best. No one should go through this situation alone.
“Well, he knows what he’s doing, so if he’s asked you along, there’s good reason for it. Let’s go inside and get him hooked up to my monitors.”
They walked by as Miklo stood at the sink, performing his intensive hand and arm scrub. Even in simple green scrubs and a tied hair cover, Miklo would have commanded the attention of every woman in the area. The simplicity of his attire peeled away everything except the man. He didn’t draw attention to himself intentionally, but something about him drew her to him, and she shivered, trying to resist the whisper of attraction that swept over her.Attraction was what had gotten her into trouble in the first place. She didn’t need a repeat of that disaster.
As if sensing her gaze, or perhaps he had heard the gurney, Miklo turned toward her. His brown gaze met hers, and she held her breath for a second, startled at the intensity of his stare. He was serious, intense, and focused. Only a nod acknowledged her, but that simple gesture released her.
“Here. You can sit by me,” Dr. Harrison said, and pulled a low stool beside her at the head of the bed. OR techs worked on setting up the sterile environment and covered most of the bed with large blue drapes. “Miklo will be close to us, but you’ll be out of his way here.”
“Thank you,” Jeannine said, and sat, relieved to have something solid to hold her up.
Then Miklo entered, covered in sterile garb. He used his foot to scoot a low stool close beside Jeannine. Looking at her through the protective goggles, he gave her a wink of reassurance. “Are you ready?” he asked.
“Never further from it,” she said, admitting her insecurity aloud. She’d discovered recently that admitting fears aloud often took the power right out of them. “I’ve had a lot of new experiences lately. What’s one more?”
“Glad to hear it.” Miklo looked at the rest of the staff members. “Everyone else ready?”
Nods all around seemed to satisfy Miklo, and he pulled the gauze away from Roberto’s face.
Despite the gasp that wanted to escape her throat, she was fascinated by the whole operative process. “May I ask questions while you work or will it be too distracting?” she asked in a whisper.
“Ask away. This is a teaching hospital. If the doctors don’t teach something every day we’re not allowed to come back,” Miklo said without looking up.
This time she did gasp, and her eyes widened. “Are you serious?” she asked, then immediately bit her lip. She’d fallen for that one without even looking.