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“We have an incoming MVA, Dr. Rutledge. You’re up.”
The nurse’s words pulled me from my catnap, but this was the job. The one those sleepless nights during medical school and my residency had prepared me for. Jumping awake at a moment’s notice, ready to set a bone, stitch a wound, or save a life. I chose emergency because I love the constantly changing nature of the cases.
“On my way,” I told the head nurse, Melanie Gibbons.
“They’re two minutes out,” she read from a clipboard. “Multiple fractures and bleeding was all the info I got, think Bobby has a new trainee with her today.” Melanie shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Lord save us from newbies.” With those words, Melanie shuffled off.
I poured a shot of cold coffee down my throat, ran a hand through my hair and headed toward the emergency department, my home away from home. Actually, the house I’ve been renovating for eighteen months was my home away from home. The ER was my home. Period. I spent more time at the small hospital in Jackson’s Ridge, Oregon than I did at the place I paid a mortgage for and where I received my mail.
When I’d find the time or energy to rip up the floors and replace them, update the electrical wiring, and, well, a lot of other things that were needed to make the house my ultimate bachelor pad, I had no idea. It was time to face reality: this wasn’t a task I could finish on days off, not unless I was willing to wait a decade to turn that place into a home. I knew exactly who to call.
“Hannah, I need your help.”
Silence reigned, followed by the sound of my younger sister’s throaty laugh. “Hello, dear brother. I’m well, how are you?”
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “No time for pleasantries, got a MVA incoming.”
“Nice excuse for poor phone manners. What do you need?”
“I’m never going to finish my house on my own.” It was a major admission on my part, and I braced myself for her response.
“You mean, long hours at the hospital and weekends spent chasing women in the city doesn’t allow for a lot of time to remodel a whole house? Shocking.”
I ignored her mocking tone. “You’re right, okay? I don’t have the time.”
“Or the expertise,” she added with a laugh.
“That’s not the point,” I growled into the phone as the ambulance sirens drew closer. “I need someone, a professional.”
“You don’t say.”
“Save the sarcasm for when I have time, Hannah. Can you help me or not?” It was the job of little sisters to be as big a pain in the ass as humanly possible, and Hannah did her job beautifully.
“We both know I can help. Just tell me what you need, exactly, and—”
I shook my head as the ambulance came into view. “No time, Sis. Handle it, please and thank you. Love you,” I shouted, ending the call before shoving my phone in the pocket of my scrubs.
The ambulance pulled into the lot and my focus shifted back to the work that invigorated me, that satisfied me more than any romantic relationship ever could. This was what I was meant to do with my life, and I did it better than damn near anybody else. On the worst day of someone’s life, I was there to make it better. Most days, anyway. Some injuries or traumas were too severe, and some required a specialist, but it was my job to keep them alive, to get them stable enough to be passed on to one of my colleagues. That was my passion and I loved it.
“Name?” I liked to know who was on my table. Some doctors preferred the distance of anonymity, but not me.
“Charlie Gray.”
Charlie had a crushed leg, broken ribs, a broken nose, and a possible concussion.
“Get ortho on the phone and keep them updated,” I said after making my assessment.
“Yes, Doctor.”
That never got old, either. What man wouldn’t love a job where he said what needed to be done and everyone—for the most part—did it without arguing?
“Thank you. Now, let’s get Charlie patched up.” He had a long road to recovery ahead of him. Broken bones healed quickly, but not easily, which meant lots of time laid up followed by tons of physical therapy. “You with me, Charlie?”
He nodded, which was all he could do at the moment.
I smiled down at him. “You’ll be all right. There’s nothing here that can’t be fixed.”
He nodded again, giving me that look of trust I knew well. It was a strange thing, having people you didn’t really know have such blind trust in you. It was an honor and a privilege that I didn’t take lightly. I did for Charlie what I did for all of my patients—I gave them everything I had, every chance to make it out of the ER better than when they entered it.
