Love On Call

“I’ve never seen anything like this. I guess I’ve gotten used to being closed up inside the hospital. I mean, there were always windows, but there was nothing much to see outside them. Parking lots and other buildings. So you just sort of stopped looking, you know? As if the world outside was gone. But here—just look! There are honest-to-God flowers out there. Everywhere. And not a car in sight.”

“The architects were smart when they added the lots—they’re below the crest of the hill, so you still have the effect of being above it all up here. You should see it in spring. The rhododendrons and azaleas are blinding. It’s even nice when it snows. The windows in the ORs face the mountains, so it’s pretty spectacular.”

“Oh my God. You have windows in the OR suites? How do you work?”

“It’s nice.” Glenn’s expression grew distant. “Nice, but strange, to look up from the table and see the world out there. It kind of reminds you that this person you’re working on is still connected to people and places beyond the spotlights and the machines and the instruments. Humanizes it all somehow.”

“You really like the OR, it sounds like.” Mari sat down across from her.

“I like doing.”

“Me too, but the surgery rotation was my least favorite part of training.”

“Why is that?”

“Too removed. I like talking to people, listening to them, finding out what’s wrong by putting the pieces together. I’d miss the connection, I guess.”

“I suppose it might seem remote,” Glenn mused, “but I don’t think you can be any more connected than touching another person. Surgery’s intimate, as personal as it gets.”

Glenn’s gaze flickered, like a page turning, and Mari knew instantly her thoughts had fled elsewhere again. She desperately wanted to know where Glenn went when memories—or something more than memories—pulled her away. What did she see, what power held her in its grip? When Glenn’s gaze refocused on her, Mari knew she’d returned. Pretending she hadn’t noticed the brief lapse, Mari said quietly, “I can’t argue that touching is uniquely intimate.”

“Different strokes,” Glenn said casually.

Subject closed, but Mari wasn’t ready to give up. “You were the regular first assist for Dr. Rivers in the OR?”

“I was pretty much her first assist for everything—I didn’t work with anyone else on a regular basis. I saw patients in the ER when she couldn’t, made rounds, took call, did cases with her.”

“Like a partner.”

“I suppose.” Glenn sighed. “Yeah, pretty much. Flann let me do what I could do.”

“This sounds like my kind of place.”

“You’ll have a lot of independence in the ER—if we get approval for level two trauma, we’ll double our census.”

“Is that likely?”

Glenn laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the new CEO pushed for level one. We’re ten minutes by air from a major interstate with no other major hospitals around.”

“I’m looking forward to the challenge.”

“Where did you train?”

“USC in LA.”

“Big place,” Glenn said.

“Oh yes. Four hundred beds, level one trauma, Children’s Hospital next door, advanced training programs in everything. Very big place.”

“Cog in a wheel?”

“Maybe a little, but great training.” Mari smiled, remembering how easy it was to get lost in the system. “How about you?”

“Uncle Sam,” Glenn said abruptly. “So what did you do when you finished—before here?”

Mari had known this question would come up and hadn’t practiced how she was going to answer. She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed or overly private about personal matters, but still, she hadn’t wanted to drag the past with her to this new life. Of course, this was one thing that would never be the past. For now, though, partial truths would suffice. “I didn’t—do anything, that is. I had a job lined up, but that fell through.”

“How did you find out about us?”

The question was natural enough but alarm bells rang. All Mari wanted was to fit in, to have a place where she could work and be herself and not catch sidelong glances of curiosity or concern or condemnation.

“My previous program director contacted me. He’d heard about the new program and the openings here.” Truth. Mari could still hear his cautious tone, his careful question as to whether she was ready to go to work. The opportunity had seemed heaven-sent, and the interview she’d had on Skype the next day had almost been a dream. She’d been so anxious for her long-distance face-to-face with the ER chief, she’d checked and double-checked her computer to make sure she could connect and was sitting in front of a blank monitor ten minutes before the appointed hour. Abigail Remy had been friendly and straightforward. She’d also said Max Gardner had talked to her personally and told her Mari was one of the best graduates he’d had in years. After twenty minutes, Mari had a job. She left all that out when she recounted the story to Glenn. “I guess you were busy that day. We didn’t get a chance to talk.”

“Abby hadn’t convinced me to take the job yet.” Glenn studied her. “So you’re new at this.”