The Doctors Pulaski: The Doctor's Guardian Part 5

Maybe she should have gone to her uncle after all, Nika thought. At least Uncle Josef listened and let her finish when she spoke. He didn't immediately go on the defensive the way Ms. Silverman was obviously doing.

"No, ma'am, I'm not implying that the hospital is at fault in any way." And she really wasn't. She supposed that her intention in coming here was to use the hospital administrator as a sounding board. She'd had better ideas, she now thought ruefully. "Then what are you saying?" the woman demanded irritably.

Nika tried to salvage the situation by falling back on a technical question. "Have any of these last few deaths been looked into?" She could see by the woman's expression that she wasn't making herself clear. "Have any of them had an autopsy performed?"

"An autopsy?" Ella cried. "No. None of their deaths were suspicious," she retorted, enunciating each word slowly and carefully as if in doing so, she'd crush the argument. "There was no reason for an autopsy," she said with finality, "not to mention that there's no money to conduct one on a whim."

Nika pressed her lips together. "This last patient who just died this morning, Mr. Kelly, they said he had no family. If no one steps forward to claim his body, maybe you could authorize-"

Ella's glare was frosty and she succeeded in freezing what Nika was about to say in midsentence. "There's no money for anything 'extra.' In case you don't know this, the hospital's budget is stretched to the very limit as it is." Like a queen who'd grown tired of the conversation, Ella straightened, indicating that the audience was over. "Now, unless you have some hard and fast evidence to present-"

"Not without an autopsy," Nika pointed out, still hoping that the hospital administrator would change her mind.

The exact opposite happened. Ella took that as a sign that the discussion was terminated. "Well, there you have it, then," she announced with a wave of her hand. "The subject is closed, Doctor. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. Real work," she underscored, looking back at the report she'd been reading before Nika had asked to speak with her.

"Sorry to have bothered you," Nika muttered, withdrawing.

"No bother," the woman replied without looking up. "My door is always open," she added, repeating her very worn public mantra.

In contrast to your mind, Nika thought as she left the room.

Well, she'd tried, she told herself. And maybe Ms. Silverman was ultimately right. Maybe there was nothing more to it than a perverse kind of misfortune, an anomaly that just happened to have shown up at this hospital instead of another one.

Why didn't that make her feel any better about the situation?

Nika went away troubled, vowing to pay more close attention to as many details as she could. And most likely to give up sleep for the next few months, she thought wearily.

"How is she doing?"

The voice, deep and resonant, seemed to come out of nowhere. And succeeded in scaring the h.e.l.l out of her because Nika was so caught up in what she was reading in one of the reports she'd managed to get off the computer at the nurses' station. The report was a history and physical of one of the deceased patients. An elderly woman with leukemia. A condition that had mysteriously and miraculously gone into remission. Just before she died.

Stifling a scream, Nika swung around to look behind her.

"Hey, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you like that," Cole apologized.

On his way to see his grandmother, he'd spotted the young doctor standing off to the side, reading. He'd decided to stop and ask about the tests that had been taken earlier today. He figured it was too soon for answers, but the way technology was moving forward these days, he took a shot at it. He hadn't expected Nika Pulaski to almost jump out of her skin.

"Is everything all right?" he asked. "You seem a little jumpy."

It was unclear to Nika if the tall, dark and brooding police detective was asking after her well-being, or if his question ultimately worked its way back to his grandmother's condition.

She decided that he had to be wondering about the old woman, so she focused on that, even as she told herself she would have to get her nerves under control.

Nika pressed the papers she had against her chest so that he couldn't see the name that was on top. It never hurt to be cautious, even it if wasn't ordinarily in her nature, she told herself.

"Your grandmother hasn't had any episodes since you left, if that's what you're referring to. And if all the tests come back with the right readings, then we're a go for surgery tomorrow afternoon at four."

"Four," Cole repeated skeptically. Seemed like a bad time of day to him. He would have wanted the surgeon to operate on his grandmother first thing in the morning. "Won't the doctor be tired by then? Less sharp?"

"Dr. Goodfellow won't operate if he feels something might impede the best possible outcome for the patient. And that works both ways."

"Both ways?" he questioned. What was she talking about?

Nika nodded. "I was told that he once stopped a surgery two minutes before it was about to begin because the patient had changed his mind and didn't want the procedure done. Goodfellow didn't try to talk him into it, or just chalk it up to the patient having cold feet. He stopped everything dead. Your grandmother is in very good hands," she a.s.sured the detective.

"Maybe," he allowed and then he asked, "Will you be a.s.sisting?"

Nika smiled proudly. The doctor had asked her to a.s.sist just this morning. "As a matter of fact, yes. Mostly, I'll just be standing there and observing," she confessed, knowing how these things went, "but if you'd like to request someone with more years of experience, I could let the woman who schedules Dr. Goodfellow's surgeries know and-"

"That won't be necessary," Cole said, cutting her short. He had a feeling that the doctor could go on talking indefinitely if she was unchecked. "I think you're qualified enough to stand and watch," he told her. "As long as they don't give you anything sharp to work with while you're being jumpy." It was meant as a joke, but he saw that the mild attempt at humor didn't seem to register with her. He looked at her more closely. There was a somberness in her eyes he didn't know what to make of. "You sure nothing's wrong?" he asked.

Nika wasn't sure what made her confess. Ordinarily, she kept her own counsel when there was no one she felt comfortable talking to. But her brief, unfruitful meeting with Ms. Silverman had left a really bad taste in her mouth and, before she was actually aware of what she was doing, she found herself sharing what had sent her to the hospital administrator's office in the first place.

"One of my patients died today."

He immediately related the occurrence to his grandmother being there.

"Because of a surgery?" he asked. Was she trying to subtly tell him something, or was he just worrying because life and his job had made him paranoid?

"No. Mr. Kelly died in his room in the Geriatrics Unit. I'm not sure why. I was just talking to him this morning. His discharge papers were being prepared and he was set to be transported back to the nursing home later today." She blew out a deep breath, thinking how ironic life could be. Here one moment, gone in the next blink of an eye. "Instead, he's in the morgue now, waiting to be claimed by someone or wind up being buried in the city's version of a potter's field." The man had seemed so vital, so eager to get back and beat his friend at chess. "I can't believe he died just like that."

"What did he die of?" Cole asked.

"Unofficially?" Nika nodded. "His heart stopped." That was what was being written down on the death certificate.

"That'll do it every time," Cole commented. From all indications, this doctor had nothing new to share with him. That meant he should be on his way to go see his grandmother. Instead, he lingered a moment or two longer and shared an observation he'd made.

"That wasn't just lip service you were giving me earlier, was it?" He watched her eyebrows draw together in a silent query. "You really do care about these patients."

Well, at this stage of the game, she certainly wasn't in it for the money. For the pleasure of pulling double s.h.i.+fts and turning into almost a zombie, as a resident she was getting somewhere in the neighborhood of forty thousand dollars a year. To be honest, she wasn't altogether sure just what the exact sum was. But that didn't matter because that wasn't why she was doing it.

"Of course I care," she told him with feeling. "I wouldn't be in this if I didn't care-although Mama had other ideas," she recalled with a touch of fondness. She knew-or believed she knew-all of her mother's flaws and she still loved the woman, still accepted, for the most part, the way her mother was.

In the long run, though they'd had their clashes, she was grateful to her mother. It couldn't have been easy, raising four daughters all alone, even if she did have Aunt Zofia around for moral support.

"Mama?" he questioned. Who called their mother Mama these days? He a.s.sumed she was referring to a grandmother. His own hadn't liked the t.i.tle, which is how he'd come up with calling her G.

"My mother," Nika answered, not seeing where the mystery was.

Okay, so maybe this doctor was the old-fas.h.i.+oned type. It was rare, but there was nothing wrong with that, he thought. In a way, he kind of found it intriguing. "Your mother wanted you to be a doctor?"

Wanted was a very weak word in this case. Demanded was more like it, but she let that go. What she did say was, "She wanted all of us to be doctors."

"All of you," he repeated, waiting.

The silent question was obvious, Nika thought. The detective wanted the term all defined.

"My sisters and me. There're four of us," she added before he could raise a quizzical brow again.

Four. Four doctors, no less. He had to admit that was impressive. Cole thought of what the average higher education cost these days, and just how much he'd had to sc.r.a.pe together in order to earn an undergraduate degree in criminology.

"Your mother certainly had lofty ambitions for you and your sisters."

It wasn't exactly as n.o.ble as it might sound, she thought. "Actually, I'd say she was probably more driven by a sense of compet.i.tion than ambition."

He was silent for a moment as he tried to make sense out of what she'd just said, then shook his head. "I don't think I understand," he told her. "As a matter of fact, I know I don't understand."

"It's very simple, really. My aunt and uncle have five daughters. They all became doctors. After my father died, my mother carried around a lot of resentment toward my uncle and, well..." Her voice trailed off for a moment and then she shrugged. "Well, you get the picture."

It wasn't hard to fill in the blanks. Most families were far from ideal. His own mother was a perfect example of that. "Yeah, I do. Sometimes parents don't always think clearly."

As he said it, Nika had the impression that Cole wasn't talking about her mother any longer. Curious, she forced herself to table the questions that immediately arose in her mind. Something about the detective reminded her of a knight in tarnished armor and warned her not to ask too many questions-unless she wanted to get rebuffed. She had the feeling that Cole Baker wasn't the type who shared his thoughts, his feelings, or his past easily with others.

She could feel him withdrawing even as he still remained standing there. His next words bore out her impression.

"Well, I'd better go see my grandmother before she puts out an APB-an all points bulletin," Cole elaborated.

"I know what APB means," she told him with a smile, then added, "I get to watch crime dramas on TV sometimes." He started to turn away. "Before you go," she interjected.

Stopping, Cole looked at her over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"There's something else." The moment she said the sentence, she saw his face become rigid. He was on his guard again.

Any tiny headway she might have made with the man instantly vanished. He was a man who didn't trust easily, she thought. A man who always expected the worst. What had happened in his life to make him that way? she couldn't help wondering. Whatever it was had crushed him-but not completely. Because if it had, he wouldn't have rescued her, no matter what the excuse. He would have stood on the sidelines and let someone else do it, telling himself it was none of his concern.

"Yes?" he asked warily.

"I have to tell you that I'm still a little concerned about your grandmother's blood pressure. Luckily, the procedure Dr. Goodfellow is ultimately going to perform requires only a local anesthetic-"

"You already said that," he reminded her, a note of impatience breaking through. It was, she thought, as if he was waiting for some sort of bombsh.e.l.l to drop. But there was no bombsh.e.l.l. She'd told him what her concern was.

"My point is that a local isn't as hard on a person's body as a general anesthetic is," she explained. "If the surgery your grandmother was having done needed a general anesthetic, I'd advise holding off on performing it until such time as we get her blood pressure under control."

"Is her blood pressure really that bad?" he asked.

"It's not astronomical. I've heard of patients who had elevated readings double what your grandmother has and they went on to live long lives. However, blood pressure can spike both when a person is being put under and being brought out of anesthesia, and that's when a stroke can happen. Or worse. It's best to have her blood pressure within acceptable parameters just to stay on the safe side. I don't like taking any kind of chances with my patients, unless there are no other options."

Offhand, he would have said that she sounded sincere. He wondered if it was an act. There was a time when he would have bet everything he had in the world that his mother loved him-and she'd tried to kill him just before she'd turned the gun on herself.

"I'll keep that in mind. Anything else?" he asked.

Nika pressed her lips together. She found herself fighting an urge. She really wanted to share her uneasiness about the recent deaths with someone, and who better than a near stranger-even if he was as s.e.xy as all h.e.l.l?

But in this case, if she shared this burden she was struggling with, the information-if it actually was that-would only add to his uneasiness about his grandmother's condition. She definitely didn't want to do that. There were enough things to worry about during the normal course of a procedure without adding this to his stress level.

So she pulled back her lips into a bright smile and shook her head. "No, there's nothing else."

"I'll see you later," he said, turning away. He started to go down the corridor that would ultimately lead him to his grandmother's room.

Dazzling smile not withstanding, Cole couldn't shake the feeling that the perky young doctor was lying to him. But that could just be his imagination. Or, more aptly described, his paranoia. He'd been tense ever since he'd walked in on his grandmother when she was in the throes of one of those "episodes," as she'd referred to the ma.s.sive palpitations that weakened and all but disabled her. Just like that, the woman he'd always thought of as a pillar of strength threatened to become a mere pile of rubble.

Even now, he couldn't shake the image of her, pale and sweaty, lying on the sofa and almost unable to move. It forced him to see her in a different light. Ericka Baker was a fragile woman. One who wasn't always going to be in his world.

The thought haunted him.

Served him right for breaking his own rules and growing attached. He'd upbraided himself more than once, but it did no good. The time for taking to the hills had long pa.s.sed.

The sense of dread antic.i.p.ation had brought with it was exactly why he was never going to allow himself to grow attached to anyone ever again. Because he knew the ultimate outcome of that attachment.

It was better just to continue to harden his heart and remain alone.

Turning the corner, Cole entered the second room on the right.

His grandmother was sitting up in bed. For a brief moment, she lit up when she saw him. Then, just as quickly, she resumed her role as the somber matriarch of their very small family unit.

"I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind about coming to see me," she pouted.

"How could I?" he asked, brus.h.i.+ng his lips against her cheek. "It's the highlight of my day."

"Then you're having a very dull day," she informed him, sitting back against her pillows. She looked at both his hands, which were empty. Her pout intensified.

She asked anyway. "Did you bring me anything decent to eat?"

Instead of answering her, Cole unb.u.t.toned his jacket. Holding the left side open, he extracted a carefully wrapped item from his inner pocket and placed it on the table in front of her.

"Baklava," he announced. "As you requested."

"You really are a joy to me in my old age," Ericka declared, gleefully unwrapping the confection. Taking her first small, dainty bite, she closed her eyes and savored the honeyed confection. For all intents and purposes, she looked as if she was in ecstasy.

Cole pulled over a chair and made himself comfortable, content just to sit and silently watch his grandmother consume, with unabashed pleasure, the dessert he'd smuggled in for her.

He lived in the moment and refused to allow in any thoughts about tomorrow.

Chapter 6.

"Don't you ever take a day off?"

Dr. Darel Goodfellow asked the question as he glanced over his shoulder to see who was entering the darkened room. His back was to the door as he reviewed the three x-rays that were currently resting against the screen and backlit to enable better close scrutiny.

Nika flushed. She'd wanted to slip into the small room un.o.btrusively, but the sliver of light that entered with her made that impossible. She had to admit that she was surprised that the cardiologist was even remotely aware of all the time she'd been putting in. Since she'd come in yesterday on her day off, she was scheduled not to come in today. Heaven knew she needed a day off, but since things were still up in the air as far as Ericka Baker's surgery went, she wanted to be here, rather than in the apartment worrying about the woman.