door.
“How long were you married?” she asked, turning to face Casey.
Casey had come to Mother Mary on the heels of her separation. Nobody really knew her ex or their history. She’d been more than happy to leave it that way. The look on Janice’s face portended change.
“Four years,” she admitted. “Why?”
With that Janice sat down, hands wrapped around each other, gaze on her knees, brows taut and troubled. “He was a doctor?”
Casey couldn’t help a quick grin. “There’s some discussion about that. He was a psychiatrist.”
Janice was too preoccupied to catch the joke. She seemed to be looking into something yards away, assessing it, questioning it. Finally, she lifted her head.
“Can I ask why you left?”
If it had been anybody but Janice, Casey wouldn’t have answered. Her ex still practiced in St. Louis, and nothing would infuriate him more than hearing about his more interesting idiosyncracies over the hospital grapevine. But there was something important behind Janice’s question, something desperate.
“It was a lot of things,” Casey finally admitted with a half smile. “Ed had a lot of problems that I couldn’t solve for him.”
Janice watched her now, eyes intense, dark. Casey wished she knew what Janice wanted to hear.
“You finally gave up?”
“Oh, in a manner of speaking. To give you an idea of the scope of things, he, uh, well, among other things—that the medical community doesn’t know—he’s a cross dresser.”
Well, at least she’d pulled Janice’s attention away from her own problem. The brunette’s wide brown eyes widened even more. Her face compressed into a silent exclamation of astonishment.
“So…” She gulped down the surprise like raw fish and started again. “You, uh, divorced him because you caught him in your underwear?”
“No,” Casey answered equably. “I divorced him because I kept catching him in other women’s underwear.”
“Code blue, emergency room four. Code blue, emergency room four.”
“Oh, shit,” Casey snapped, on her feet and out the door behind Janice before the announcement was repeated. “I knew it, I just knew it!”
“What is it?” Janice asked Barb as they rounded the corner by triage at a run. The lights were still flashing from the ambulance, washing the walls in red. The people who had been milling around triage stood back looking a little stunned.
“Gunshot to the face. He arrested at the door.”
“All right,” Casey agreed with a nod, following Janet into the work lane. “At least it’s going to be fun.”
The work lane was in pandemonium with the unannounced arrival. Doctors and respiratory techs crashed through the door from the stairwell. Michael was swinging the red trauma cart out of its niche by telemetry. Marva thundered on his heels with the crash cart. And dead center in the hall, right in their way, a toddler stood frozen in openmouthed astonishment.
Casey saw him and knew that neither Marva nor Michael could stop in time. It looked like the quintessential western scene with an unwary child caught in the path of the runaway stagecoach. And Casey was the only cowboy close enough to intervene. Spinning on her heel, she scooped up the little boy on a dead run and reached the far side of the hall just as the carts thundered past.
“Whoa, pardner!” she crowed, swinging the child up into her arms. He turned astonished eyes on her and she grinned. “Didn’t your mom ever tell you to look both ways before crossing the street?”
“Child,” Marva called to Casey from the doorway where everyone was congregating. “You should play football. You got great hands.”
“That’s what I’ve been told.” Casey grinned back. “Anybody missing a pedestrian?”
She checked, three rooms before she found the little boy’s mother relaxing on a chair with the Enquirer .
“I’m going to close the door to the work lane,” she offered, setting the little boy down and giving him a little push
“How long were you married?” she asked, turning to face Casey.
Casey had come to Mother Mary on the heels of her separation. Nobody really knew her ex or their history. She’d been more than happy to leave it that way. The look on Janice’s face portended change.
“Four years,” she admitted. “Why?”
With that Janice sat down, hands wrapped around each other, gaze on her knees, brows taut and troubled. “He was a doctor?”
Casey couldn’t help a quick grin. “There’s some discussion about that. He was a psychiatrist.”
Janice was too preoccupied to catch the joke. She seemed to be looking into something yards away, assessing it, questioning it. Finally, she lifted her head.
“Can I ask why you left?”
If it had been anybody but Janice, Casey wouldn’t have answered. Her ex still practiced in St. Louis, and nothing would infuriate him more than hearing about his more interesting idiosyncracies over the hospital grapevine. But there was something important behind Janice’s question, something desperate.
“It was a lot of things,” Casey finally admitted with a half smile. “Ed had a lot of problems that I couldn’t solve for him.”
Janice watched her now, eyes intense, dark. Casey wished she knew what Janice wanted to hear.
“You finally gave up?”
“Oh, in a manner of speaking. To give you an idea of the scope of things, he, uh, well, among other things—that the medical community doesn’t know—he’s a cross dresser.”
Well, at least she’d pulled Janice’s attention away from her own problem. The brunette’s wide brown eyes widened even more. Her face compressed into a silent exclamation of astonishment.
“So…” She gulped down the surprise like raw fish and started again. “You, uh, divorced him because you caught him in your underwear?”
“No,” Casey answered equably. “I divorced him because I kept catching him in other women’s underwear.”
“Code blue, emergency room four. Code blue, emergency room four.”
“Oh, shit,” Casey snapped, on her feet and out the door behind Janice before the announcement was repeated. “I knew it, I just knew it!”
“What is it?” Janice asked Barb as they rounded the corner by triage at a run. The lights were still flashing from the ambulance, washing the walls in red. The people who had been milling around triage stood back looking a little stunned.
“Gunshot to the face. He arrested at the door.”
“All right,” Casey agreed with a nod, following Janet into the work lane. “At least it’s going to be fun.”
The work lane was in pandemonium with the unannounced arrival. Doctors and respiratory techs crashed through the door from the stairwell. Michael was swinging the red trauma cart out of its niche by telemetry. Marva thundered on his heels with the crash cart. And dead center in the hall, right in their way, a toddler stood frozen in openmouthed astonishment.
Casey saw him and knew that neither Marva nor Michael could stop in time. It looked like the quintessential western scene with an unwary child caught in the path of the runaway stagecoach. And Casey was the only cowboy close enough to intervene. Spinning on her heel, she scooped up the little boy on a dead run and reached the far side of the hall just as the carts thundered past.
“Whoa, pardner!” she crowed, swinging the child up into her arms. He turned astonished eyes on her and she grinned. “Didn’t your mom ever tell you to look both ways before crossing the street?”
“Child,” Marva called to Casey from the doorway where everyone was congregating. “You should play football. You got great hands.”
“That’s what I’ve been told.” Casey grinned back. “Anybody missing a pedestrian?”
She checked, three rooms before she found the little boy’s mother relaxing on a chair with the Enquirer .
“I’m going to close the door to the work lane,” she offered, setting the little boy down and giving him a little push
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