Lynne Marshall

Hot Docs On Call: Tinseltown Cinderella


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for her eyes to adjust to the light. He was the man who’d taken on her attacker. She scanned his face. Kind brown eyes. Short dark hair. A square jaw. Good looking.

      “You’re in the hospital and you’re safe,” he said in a low, comforting voice.

      She looked beyond him to a gorgeous room. A hospital? It looked more like an expensive hotel with muted colors and modern furniture, chic, classy, a room she’d never been able to afford in her life. Was she still dreaming? Since she’d stopped protesting, it was quiet. Oh, and there was an IV in her arm. Being an RN herself, she recognized that right off. A catheter between her legs? And she wore a hospital gown. But this one was silky and smooth, not one of those worn-out over-starched jobs at the hospital where she worked.

      Everything was so strange. Surreal. As she gathered her senses she couldn’t remember where she was other than being in a hospital. She couldn’t figure out why she’d be here. Wait. Someone had attacked her. She’d been pushed down. Oh, no! Her hand flew to her stomach, and she gasped.

      “My baby!” Her voice sounded muffled and strange, as if her ears were plugged.

      “Your baby’s fine,” the woman said. “So you remember you’re pregnant.”

      Her hearing improved. She nodded, and it hurt, but she smiled anyway because her baby was fine.

      The attractive young man smiled back at her, and the concern in his eyes was surprising. Did she know him?

      “My baby’s fine,” she whispered to him, and a rush of feelings overcame her until she cried.

      Then the strangest thing happened. The man that she wasn’t sure if she knew or not, the man with the kind brown eyes...his welled up, too. “Your baby’s fine.” His voice sounded raspy.

      She cried softly for a few moments, his eyes misty and glistening as he gave a caring smile, and it felt so good.

      “Where am I?”

      “You’re in the hospital, hon,” the nearby nurse said.

      “But where am I?”

      “Hollywood,” he said. “You’re in California.”

      She thought hard, vaguely remembering getting on a bus. Getting off a bus. It was all too much to straighten out right now. She was exhausted.

      “What’s your name, honey?” The nurse continued.

      “Carey Spencer.” At least she remembered her name. But she needed to rest. To close her eyes and...

      “She’s out again.” The kind man’s voice sounded far, far away.

      “That’s what happens sometimes with head injuries,” the nurse replied.

      * * *

      Dr. Williams cancelled the plan to transfer her to a coma unit since it was clear Carey Spencer was waking up. Joe assigned another paramedic to cover his shift and stayed by her bedside, hoping to be there when she woke up again. The next time, hopefully, would be permanently. He had dozed off for a second.

      “Where am I?” Her voice.

      Had he slept a few minutes?

      He forced open his eyes and faced Carey as she sat up in the bed, propped by several pillows. Her hair fell in a tangle of waves over her shoulders. Those dark green eyes flashed at him. She’d already figured out how to use the hand-held bed adjuster. “Where am I?” she asked more forcefully.

      He’d told her earlier, but she’d suffered a head trauma, her brain was all jumbled up inside. Because of the concussion she might forget things for a long time to come. She deserved the facts.

      “You’re in the hospital in Hollywood, California. You got off a cross-country bus the other night. Do you remember where you came from?”

      “I don’t want anyone contacting my family.”

      He rang for the nurse. “We won’t contact anyone unless you tell us to.”

      “I’m from Montclare, Illinois. It’s on the outskirts of Chicago.”

      “Okay. Are you married?”

      She shook her head, then looked at him tentatively. “I’m pregnant.” Her eyes captured his and he could tell she remembered they’d gotten emotional together earlier when she’d woken up before. “And my baby’s okay.” She gave a gentle smile and odd protective sensations rippled over him. Those green eyes and the dark auburn hair. Wow. Her blackened eye may have been healing, but even with the shiner she was breathtaking. In his opinion anyway.

      “Yes. Everything is okay in that department. How far along are you? Do you know?”

      “Three months.”

      “And you came here on the bus for...?”

      She hesitated. “Not for. To get away.” She lifted her arms, covered in fading bruises. “I needed to get away.”

      “I understand.” The uncompromising need to protect her welled up full force again. “Are you in trouble?”

      She shook her head, then looked like it hurt to do so and immediately stopped.

      The nurse came in, and asked Joe to leave so she could assess her patient and attend to her personal needs. He headed toward the door.

      “Wait!” she said.

      He turned.

      “What’s your name?”

      “I’m Joseph Matthews. I’m the paramedic who brought you here.”

      “Thank you, Joseph. I owe you my life. And my baby’s,” she said from behind the privacy curtain.

      He stared at his work boots, an uncertain smile creasing his lips. She certainly didn’t owe him her life, but he was awfully glad to have been on scene the night she’d needed him.

      The police were notified, and Joe didn’t want to stick around where he had no business, though in his heart he felt he deserved to know the whole story, so he went back to work. Around ten p.m., nearing the end of his shift, James approached. “Did you know she’s a nurse?”

      “I didn’t. Interesting.”

      “She won’t tell us how she got all banged up, but the fact she doesn’t want us to contact the father of the baby explains that, doesn’t it.”

      “Sadly, true.”

      “So, since she’s recovering, if all goes well after tonight, I’m going to have to discharge her.”

      Startled by the news, Joe wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him before. Of course she couldn’t live here at the clinic. Her identity had been stolen along with her purse and any money she may have had in it. She was pregnant and alone in a strange city, and he couldn’t very well let her become homeless, too. Hell, tomorrow was Sunday! “I’ve got an extra room. I could put her up until she gets back on her feet.”

      Joe almost did a second take, hearing himself make the offer, but when he thought more about it, he’d meant it. Every word. Even hoped she’d take him up on it.

      “That’s great,” James said. “Though she may feel more comfortable staying with one of our nurses.”

      “True. Dumb idea, I guess.”

      “Not dumb. Pretty damn noble if you ask me. I’ll vouch for you being a gentleman.” James cast him a knowing smile and walked away.

      Joe fought the urge to rush to Carey’s room. She’d been through a lot today, waking up after a three-day sleep and all, and probably had a lot of thinking and sorting out to do. The social worker would be pestering her about her lost identification and credit cards and helping straighten out that mess. The poor woman’s already bruised brain was probably spinning.

      He needed to give her space, not make her worry he was some kind of