thing. A habit that he’d developed in his first E.R. rotations years ago was to pray on the run while treating victims of severe illness or trauma. Praying had become second nature for him; he did it without thinking. But this time…this time he’d been caught off guard. He’d allowed his anger at Quinn to divert him from the most important treatment.
“Forgive me, Lord.” He covered his face with his hands. He knew God didn’t need his permission to save a life or to guide the hands and minds of the staff when they were working with patients. Still, he had no doubt that prayer was an energizing touch, a powerful connection between God and the caregivers. Yes, prayer operated on a spiritual level, but weren’t human beings as much spirit as body?
And what if Marla Moore did have a baby? Was there a husband? She was so young….
Just three months ago Lukas had lost a drowning victim, a young woman like this one. Some fishermen had found her at the shore of the lake and had contacted him by car phone as they raced with her from the lake to the hospital. They’d been devastated when they couldn’t save her. So had Lukas. The loss always hurt the worst with the young ones, as if fresh new canvas had been ripped from the center of a painting in progress. With Marla it looked as if an even newer life was involved.
“Lord, please take care of Marla’s baby. When they find her family, touch them with Your healing power and give that baby an earthly mother. And help me not to push You to the side next time.”
He paused and took a new breath. He had to return to work, but he might not have a chance to get back here soon, and he needed to eat something to keep his strength up and his mind sharp—he hadn’t eaten for eight hours, and he’d barely slept.
Quickly he pulled open the top side drawer of the desk and reached in for the peanut butter sandwich he’d packed yesterday before coming to work. He unwrapped the aluminum foil and pulled it back, then recoiled with disgust. Someone had taken several bites out of his sandwich—he could see the teeth marks clearly. In place of those bites was a dead fly.
He smashed the foil back together over the sandwich and threw the whole thing into the trash can.
He was beginning to hate this place.
A soft call reached Mercy through the darkness, indecipherable through the haze of the drug she had used so she would be sure to get some rest before returning to the hospital. But in spite of the drug, her eyes flew open. She listened. Had her mysterious visitor at the clinic followed her home?
“Mom?” Her bedroom door slid open, and a glow came through from the hallway night-light to reveal the dark outline of Tedi’s sleep-mussed hair. “Can I sleep with you?”
Automatically Mercy scooted over and pulled the covers back. Tedi came forward quickly and climbed into the nest of warmth Mercy’s body had generated. She placed her icy feet on Mercy’s legs, then giggled when her mom gasped.
“Nightmares?” Mercy asked, grimacing at her daughter’s late-night-snack breath. She should have let Tedi say at Mom’s for the rest of the night instead of waking her again and dragging her out into the cold air to come home. She felt so lonely without her…but that was a selfish motive.
“Yeah.” Tedi paused a moment, then said more softly, “And I missed you.”
“I’m right here.” Mercy reached out and gathered her daughter close, bad breath and all.
Tedi snuggled against her. “You’re gone so much, though. Can’t Lukas just come back and help you at the clinic until the E.R. opens up and you don’t get as many calls?”
“I don’t think so, honey.” Mercy sighed and glanced at the clock. She’d only slept three hours. This was going to be another tough one. Now she would lie awake and worry that she wasn’t giving her daughter enough attention, that too many of her patients were falling through the cracks, and that if she did get back to sleep she might miss another emergency call. Had she done the right thing keeping Odira and Crystal here at the community hospital?
And if she continued to worry like this, would she ever sleep again?
Tedi’s rhythmic breathing deepened and her body relaxed. Mercy couldn’t even close her eyes. So she started doing what she’d been practicing lately when the nagging specter of insomnia attacked her—she prayed. And she began with a prayer for Lukas to return.
Lukas struggled with his frustration as he returned to the E.R. proper. All his life he’d wanted to be a doctor, although when he was growing up he envisioned himself as the faithful family practitioner who had an office attached to his home, who made house calls and whose wisdom and compassion alone could make people feel better. He’d watched too many Marcus Welby, M.D. reruns. By the time he reached his third year of premed, he’d been forced to acknowledge that medical practice wasn’t what it used to be. Still, being a doctor was all he’d ever wanted to do.
It wasn’t until his first experience in an emergency room during fourth-year rotations that he felt the adrenaline rush of life-and-death decisions. He’d been addicted ever since. He could get high on a successful pediatric code. His heart could break at the death of an elderly nursing-home patient. And it was still all about people.
People were also what made the job difficult. There were so many extremes, and so many burnouts, and he kept in mind that it could also happen to him. His first burnout with people had come before his ninth birthday.
When he was a skinny, shy kid of eight, he’d had to get glasses. His two older brothers picked on him and teased him when their parents weren’t watching. Because of that, he remembered backing further and further into a shell until he barely spoke to anyone at all, and their teasing only grew worse.
One day Dad took him on a walk, just the two of them, out through their vegetable garden to a small grove of apple trees that always produced the crispest, sweetest apples in the farming community where they lived.
Dad picked an apple from the tree and held it out to Lukas. There was a brown, worn-looking spot near the top. “See this, Lukas? The apple grew too close to the branch, and that branch rubbed against it when the wind blew. Some years these are the apples I like the best, because a lot of times they seem to have the sweetest taste.”
Lukas took a bite of the apple, grimaced at the hard bitterness and heard his dad chuckle.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention something,” Dad said. “Strange, isn’t it? The same rubbing that makes a lot of the fruit sweet some years can also make the fruit bitter and hard other years. Guess it has to do with how much sunshine they’ve had.” He placed an arm around Lukas’s shoulders. “Anyway, that’s my opinion. People are like that, and you’re not too young to learn the lesson. God’s love is your sunshine, you know. Just let Him shine through you in spite of the bad weather and the teasing you always get from your brothers. You’ll be glad you did.”
And so as Lukas approached Carmen at the front desk he forced a smile. This was her first office job, and she was understandably nervous, especially with the unforgiving attitude of many of the staff. Her harried expression always seemed on the verge of panic when an ambulance came in or when Lukas gave orders. She was one of the youngest on the staff.
“How’s it going, Carmen?” he asked as he stepped up to the computer where she worked.
She jerked and looked up at him, her fingers fumbling on the keyboard. Her gaze darted quickly to an item on her desk, then away again. “Fine, Dr. Bower. The coroner’s on his way, and Quinn and Sandra took off a few minutes ago. Tex finally went to grab a bite because she’s starving, and nobody else has checked in.” She got to her feet, eyes wide, movements nervous.
Lukas wished the poor woman could relax a little. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t last here very long. He frowned and glanced again at an item on her desk that he’d noticed earlier—a blue-and-white tube of surgical jelly.
He shrugged and started to walk away when the phone buzzed beside Carmen’s left elbow. She jumped and jerked it up, answered sharply and listened, catching Lukas’s