Page 25 of Forever to Fall
CHAPTER 8
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“You’re doing great, Mrs. Henderson,” Mallory said, carefully swapping out vials while she drew the older woman’s blood. It was Saturday afternoon, and the ER was a madhouse. Screaming children and the wails of those in pain echoed around her, but she was focused on the patient in front of her. When she first became a nurse, she thought she’d hear the noise. Now it merely provided a soundtrack to her career, the din blending into the beige wallpaper.
“You’re so sweet, dear,” the older woman said, voice shaky with fatigue. “When Gerald told me I wasn’t looking right, I hoped you’d be the nurse today.”
Mallory carefully removed the needle and folded Mrs. Henderson’s arm up. “Keep this elevated for just a minute while I grab a bandage. How are you feeling?” She wasn’t happy with the pallor of her skin, and Mallory snagged a small bottle of orange juice. “Why don’t you sip on this for a moment?”
Mallory peeled a bandage off and placed it over the puncture mark. Mrs. Henderson gleefully sipped her drink and mused to her husband, “Free juice, Gerald. Isn’t this just so nice?”
The older man huffed, muttering something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like, “That juice is hardly free.”
Mallory stifled a grin and handed the man his own juice. “Don’t tell anyone,” she teased with a wink. Turning back to her patient, she directed her on next steps before ducking back into the chaos of the ER.
Janis, one of the receptionists, met her with a stack of bedding. “We need new sheets in room seven, and the gentleman in room twelve has been asking for you since he arrived. We stopped the bleeding, but he’s insisting on seeing you.”
Mallory swapped her armful for Janis’s and thanked her. “Is this a new patient, or the same gentleman with the head injury?”
Janis took the case of blood vials and shook her head. “No, this is a new guy. Martha tried to help him, but when he heard you were working, he asked for you.”
Mallory had no idea what was going on, but she wouldn’t waste her time arguing with poor Janis. The woman was the messenger, and it wasn’t her fault that patients got attached. Even sweet Mrs. Henderson was a prime example. The woman had type 2 Diabetes and heart disease, coming into the hospital nearly monthly when she lost track of her medications. They’d built a rapport over the years, and Mallory enjoyed their interactions—although she wished the older woman took better care of herself.
As Mallory approached room twelve, a second thought hit her. There were patients who took their interactions as more than a nurse helping a patient. They read too much into a caring glance or a smile. She really hoped it wasn’t one of those instances, because the thought of a handsy patient made her blood boil. She was too busy for nonsense today.
Pushing the door open, Mallory glanced to the white board on the wall for the patient’s name before she addressed him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Fox,” she said, feet faltering as she walked straight into the dresser. Spinning on her heels, she came face to face with Beckett. The man had clearly seen better days. “Beckett? Oh, my God.”
Years of training suddenly forgotten, Mallory rushed to his bedside and inventoried his injuries. There were a few scrapes on his cheeks, his red hair was mussed and disheveled, and he looked exhausted. White bandages covered his left arm while his right ankle was elevated and iced.
“Hey, Mal,” he said, smile crooked and eyes tired. He lifted his right hand in a wave but grimaced as soon as he moved.
“What happened? Are you in pain?” She swept her gaze up and down his frame until his cheeks turned crimson.
“It really is better than it looks. I had a bit of an accident on the farm.”
Mallory eased onto the edge of the bed, taking his uninjured hand in hers and squeezing it harder than she should. “Why were you back at the farm? What happened?”
Beckett lifted a shoulder and sighed. “There’s a lot I need to get ready before I put it on the market, and I didn’t have plans today, so I thought I’d get cracking. Turns out that using a nail gun on a loose shutter while standing on an old rusty ladder is a recipe for disaster.” He chuckled, but it was humorless.
Mallory’s heart clenched. “You’re not doing that alone,” she ordered, shaking her head. “Evan or I will help. It’s too dangerous.”
Beckett groaned. “I can handle it. The realtor said there’s some cosmetic fixes I should do before I sell, and I thought I’d save a few bucks.”
Mallory lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles, the movement second nature. “I’m glad you’re all right.” For a moment, neither of them spoke. The beeping of machines kept time with her racing heart.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Beckett said, his voice hoarse. “But when I got in the car and headed toward the hospital, I wanted to see you.”
“You drove here?” she asked, aghast. It was bad enough the man was reckless, but to drive himself was a step too far. “Let me see that,” she said, pulling back far enough to see his chart. After flipping the pages back and forth, she gasped and flicked his elbow on instinct.
Beckett yelped and cradled his arm to his chest, a surge of guilt washing over her. “Oh hell, I’m sorry.”
Shaking his head, Beckett coughed. “Next time, I’ll drive to Buckeye Falls General.”
Mallory flinched as if she’d been slapped. While a perfectly fine hospital, it was hardly the state-of-the-art establishment they currently sat in. Columbus had the funds that Buckeye Falls did not, and it showed here in the healthcare industry.
