Page 79 of Choosing My Happiness
“Hi, Daiz. All ready to go?” the nurse I was relieving spoke beside me.
“It’s been fairly q-word today. A few stabbings. That Officer Penshurst is waiting with a suspect in bed fourteen, through and through leg wound. I think he’d like to talk with you.”
I gave her a side eye. “Why?”
She giggled. “Maybe something about a date? Dinner when you’re next free? I don’t know, but I’d like to.” She soundedlike a teenager as she gushed, instead of a 30-year-old married mother.
I rolled my eyes. “I hope not,” I muttered, as I flicked through the notes.
“You’re not interested in men?”
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose.
“It’s complicated.” I dropped my hand. “Keep going, what else is going on?”
She averted her gaze and finished the handover. I strode over to the officer to start the discharge procedure and paperwork that he should have gotten an hour ago. He stood up as he saw me approaching.
“Hi Daisy,” he said.
I smiled as I came closer. He reminded me of Jim. He was tall and broad-shouldered like Jim, and had the same kind of aura, but he lacked Jim’s presence.
“Hey, Officer Penshurst, good to see you again. You’re becoming a bit of a regular.”
“David, please.” He ducked his head, then waved his hand to the teenage kid lying on the bed. “Just escorting idiots who can’t handle their guns, for treatment.”
The kid rolled his eyes as he lay back. A tear escaped down the side of his face.
“What happened?” I asked, ignoring the emotion.
Officer Penshurst answered, “Just a bit of turf war. Kid misfired and shot his own foot.” The police officer chuckled. I clenched my jaw on the frustration that was rising in me, then huffed my breath out instead.
“How’s that pain level?” I asked the kid. He jerked his chin up in a familiar movement. For a moment, I was transported back to the first meeting with Jim.
“Tip for the future,” I mentioned to him as I started my checks, “when you get mobile, go to the closest bike club you can find, and ask to prospect. They’ll give you better skills.”
Officer Penshurst burst out laughing at my words. “You trying to get him into more trouble? Those things are filled with nothing but druggies and prison wannabes.” He chuckled.
I turned my head to him slowly. Any resemblance to Jim flashed away. He was nothing like my kind-hearted believer.
“My best friends are club members, with the club that supported my father his whole life, and they’re still supporting his widow. They’re not all bad. Sometimes, they get more done than you,” I growled at the judgemental idiot.
“Attention staff, external triage required.”
I stepped back from the confrontation, and glanced at the kid.
“Gotta go. I’ll be back with your discharge paperwork as soon as I can,” I said to him before walking to the gown station where the additional gowns were. I doffed the gear I was wearing, and donned the additional PPE, and waited for the sirens to get closer.
Words washed over me as I waited. Information filtered in. Motorbike accident involving a number of casualties, plus a car driver being brought in for observation. I closed my eyes and sent a prayer that Jim, wherever he was, was okay. I imagined him cooking in that small kitchen, or sitting on the porch outside, watching the sun go down.
The sirens got closer, and pulled up in front of us. I ran with the others to meet the medics.
“Who do we have here?” I yelled.
“Twenty-two year old male, possible spinal damage, definitely broken leg, got ground up pretty well by the road. Smart guy was wearing a helmet and leathers,” the medic gruffly reported.
“We all wear helmets and leathers,” the next patient grumbled as he climbed down without assistance. I turned around at the familiar voice, and took in the ripped leather jacket and jeans, showing shredded patches of skin. He moved painfully, taking a while to slowly straighten up.
“Jim,” I breathed.
