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Had she overstepped in the OR when she’d teased him about “tying” his stitches? By the steely look in his eye she might well have. Sometimes her humor was misplaced. She was so used to working in laid-back, often difficult conditions where levity was required. This wasn’t one of those situations. In fact, this was the nicest, most upscale medical facility she’d ever been in.
When the director of the World Travel Nursing Agency had told her about her next assignment, she’d shared with Stacey information about the fabulous care given at the Maple Island Clinic. It turned out it was true, right down to the beautiful island and the top-notch physicians.
Dr. Brennan certainly knew his stuff. She’d seen enough good and bad surgeries on her journeys to recognize a surgeon with exceptional skills. Not just the abilities acquired through training and experience, but that special touch inherent in someone devoted to his patients’ welfare. Did that quality extend to other areas of his life?
He’d been great with his daughter, despite his charming ineptness with her bow. It probably came more from being in a hurry rather than incompetence. Something about Dr. Brennan’s manner made her believe he worked hard at being confident and competent in every aspect of his life. She also had the idea he was driven to keep any weakness or flaws well concealed.
“Here’s Dr. Brennan now,” Stacey said to the middle-aged mother of their patient seated beside her. Releasing her hand, Stacey stood. “I’m sure he can tell you more.”
Dr. Brennan had pulled a long white lab coat over his scrubs. His thick chestnut hair was still mussed from removing his surgical cap. She guessed he’d only run a hand through it because a lock hung over his forehead. The effect gave him a less polished look than he’d had that morning in front of the day care. Deciding she liked this version better, Stacey stepped out of his way.
He sat on the edge of the chair she had vacated and turned to the mother. “Your son’s doing very well and is in Recovery right now. He’ll be in some pain, but I promise we’re handling it. You’ll be able to see him in about an hour.”
“Oh, Dr. Brennan. Thank you for taking care of him. Do you think this’ll get him back on the tennis court?”
He nodded. “I have complete confidence it will. Now, why don’t you go get something to eat and meet him in his room?” He turned to Stacey. “Nurse, would you please direct his family to the room where Mr. Washington will be?”
Stacey wasn’t sure where that would be, but she’d find out somehow. She wasn’t about to make her ignorance of that detail obvious to him so she answered with confidence. “I’ll be glad to.”
His attention returned to Mrs. Washington and he placed a hand on her shoulder. “If you need anything, will you let me or Nurse—”
“Please make it Stacey.” She looked at the woman with warmth before giving Dr. Brennan a pointed stare.
A thin smile curved his lips and he nodded once before leaving the way he’d come.
Stacey settled the Washington family in the patient’s room before returning to the waiting room to speak to the family of Dr. Brennan’s next surgery patient. When she checked in with him during surgery he gave her a brief, concise pronouncement that the patient was doing as expected. She left with a “Thank you, Doctor.” Again, she was with the family when he came in to speak to them.
Finished he stood, stepped away from the group and said, “Stacey, may I speak to you a moment?”
A shiver of uncertainty went through her. Yep, she’d overstepped. “Yes, sir.”
In the hall, he slowed long enough to say, “I’ll be doing rounds in thirty minutes. Meet me at my office in ten. Do you know where that is?”
“I’ll find it.”
He nodded. She was quickly learning it was his signature acknowledgment.
Stacey made sure she was a minute early when she knocked on his door.
“Come in.”
His accent wasn’t the typical clipped, sharp, New Englander one. What was his story? It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be around long enough to really get to know him, or anyone else well. Four short weeks didn’t leave much time to create friendships. That’s how she’d spent most of her life. She never stayed in one place long enough to get close to people and start caring about them on a personal level, on purpose. She made sure to leave before she could be left. If you cared you got hurt. She’d had enough of that in her life.
Early in life after her father had left and then again when her mother had divorced her second husband, she’d learned not caring meant that you didn’t feel pain. The ache had been so great when she’d been a child she never wanted it to happen again. She’d do anything to make that not occur, to the point of remaining distant. People disappointed her if she let them close enough. When her mother had brought home her third husband, Stacey hadn’t even bothered to call him by his real name. Instead she made up a name for him, one she could easily forget. She’d spent most of her time in her room.
