leaned forward, seeking the other woman’s still-averted eyes. “What is it?”
“I’m not a doctor,” Jeanette said too quickly. “Dr. Reynolds is working with your friend, and he is wonderful. Trauma surgery is his specialty. Your friend couldn’t be in better hands.”
Libby’s stomach lifted and fell again. “Trauma. That means life-threatening, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not a doctor.”
“But you are a nurse, and you said that this doctor is a specialist…”
“And you should wait to hear whatever he has to tell you.” Jeanette found Libby’s hand again and squeezed. “Best I can tell you right now is that your friend is in real good hands.”
“Is this the family member for our Jane Doe?” A man’s voice, confident and aware.
Libby pulled her hand from the nurse and turned sharply. “Who is he calling a Jane Doe ? That means unknown, doesn’t it? Is he talking about Marlea? Her name is Marlea.”
“It’s all right,” the nurse soothed.
“No, it’s not all right. She ain’t got no family, and she ain’t got nobody else to turn to. She ought to at least have the dignity of a name!”
“It’s all—”
“No,” the man interrupted. “She’s right, and I apologize. I’m Dr. Reynolds. I came in with your friend.”
“Libby. Belcher. And what do you mean, came in with ?”
“Dr. Reynolds was on his way to the hospital. He found your friend. He was the one who called for the police and the ambulance. He’s taken on her case…”
“Jeanette, I believe we can do without further broadcast.”
“Fine, doctor.” Chastened, Jeanette touched Libby’s arm. “I’m glad you showed up for her, and if you need anything else…”
“Is Marlea going to be all right, for real?” Blue eyes wavered behind a screen of unshed tears. “There’s only me to call. There’s no other family.”
“She’s been stabilized, and now they’re prepping her for surgery. I’ll see her in about ten minutes.” Reynolds kept his eyes on Libby, but nodded to Jeanette Washington as she slipped from the room.
“You’ll be honest with me, right?” Looking up at Reynolds from her seat, Libby gnawed at her lower lip. “She trusts me, so I need to know, ’cause like I keep sayin’, she ain’t got nobody else.”
* * *
“How did it go?”
“How am I supposed to know, with you sneakin’ up on me?” Jeanette hissed, slapping at Connie’s arm. “I’m trying to hear.”
Connie opened her mouth, but closed it again when Dr. Reynolds brushed past. Sneaking a look around the edge of the waiting room door, she watched the black-haired little white woman bury her face into her hands. Her shoulders shook and she hiccuped a time or two. Connie went back to her Baptist roots and hummed sympathy.
“Chile, this is so sad. Who is that?”
“That’s her friend, her coach. She told me that the girl has no husband, no parents, no brothers or sisters.”
“So sad.” Looking over her shoulder, Jeanette caught a glimpse of the doctor as he entered the surgical suite.
“The poor girl has so many ain’t gots , it’s a shame,” Reynolds overheard one of the nurses whisper. And before it’s all over, Dr. Parker Reynolds knew she would have at least one more.
Striding long and pushing through the double doors of the surgical suite, he tried to ignore the nurse’s words. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he announced to the assembled team as he headed for the sinks. “Let’s get scrubbed and get in there and do what we do best.” The show of bravado was just that—a show, and Parker hoped that he was the only one who knew it.
“Doctor, you keep scrubbing like that, and you’re going to pull the skin right off your hands,” one of the OR nurses teased. Reynolds managed to dredge up a smile and stepped away from the sink.
Now I know how Lady Macbeth felt , he thought. Shakespeare’s murderous conspirator had scrubbed long and hard trying to get imaginary blood off her hands, too.
“I’m not a doctor,” Jeanette said too quickly. “Dr. Reynolds is working with your friend, and he is wonderful. Trauma surgery is his specialty. Your friend couldn’t be in better hands.”
Libby’s stomach lifted and fell again. “Trauma. That means life-threatening, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not a doctor.”
“But you are a nurse, and you said that this doctor is a specialist…”
“And you should wait to hear whatever he has to tell you.” Jeanette found Libby’s hand again and squeezed. “Best I can tell you right now is that your friend is in real good hands.”
“Is this the family member for our Jane Doe?” A man’s voice, confident and aware.
Libby pulled her hand from the nurse and turned sharply. “Who is he calling a Jane Doe ? That means unknown, doesn’t it? Is he talking about Marlea? Her name is Marlea.”
“It’s all right,” the nurse soothed.
“No, it’s not all right. She ain’t got no family, and she ain’t got nobody else to turn to. She ought to at least have the dignity of a name!”
“It’s all—”
“No,” the man interrupted. “She’s right, and I apologize. I’m Dr. Reynolds. I came in with your friend.”
“Libby. Belcher. And what do you mean, came in with ?”
“Dr. Reynolds was on his way to the hospital. He found your friend. He was the one who called for the police and the ambulance. He’s taken on her case…”
“Jeanette, I believe we can do without further broadcast.”
“Fine, doctor.” Chastened, Jeanette touched Libby’s arm. “I’m glad you showed up for her, and if you need anything else…”
“Is Marlea going to be all right, for real?” Blue eyes wavered behind a screen of unshed tears. “There’s only me to call. There’s no other family.”
“She’s been stabilized, and now they’re prepping her for surgery. I’ll see her in about ten minutes.” Reynolds kept his eyes on Libby, but nodded to Jeanette Washington as she slipped from the room.
“You’ll be honest with me, right?” Looking up at Reynolds from her seat, Libby gnawed at her lower lip. “She trusts me, so I need to know, ’cause like I keep sayin’, she ain’t got nobody else.”
* * *
“How did it go?”
“How am I supposed to know, with you sneakin’ up on me?” Jeanette hissed, slapping at Connie’s arm. “I’m trying to hear.”
Connie opened her mouth, but closed it again when Dr. Reynolds brushed past. Sneaking a look around the edge of the waiting room door, she watched the black-haired little white woman bury her face into her hands. Her shoulders shook and she hiccuped a time or two. Connie went back to her Baptist roots and hummed sympathy.
“Chile, this is so sad. Who is that?”
“That’s her friend, her coach. She told me that the girl has no husband, no parents, no brothers or sisters.”
“So sad.” Looking over her shoulder, Jeanette caught a glimpse of the doctor as he entered the surgical suite.
“The poor girl has so many ain’t gots , it’s a shame,” Reynolds overheard one of the nurses whisper. And before it’s all over, Dr. Parker Reynolds knew she would have at least one more.
Striding long and pushing through the double doors of the surgical suite, he tried to ignore the nurse’s words. “Let’s get this show on the road,” he announced to the assembled team as he headed for the sinks. “Let’s get scrubbed and get in there and do what we do best.” The show of bravado was just that—a show, and Parker hoped that he was the only one who knew it.
“Doctor, you keep scrubbing like that, and you’re going to pull the skin right off your hands,” one of the OR nurses teased. Reynolds managed to dredge up a smile and stepped away from the sink.
Now I know how Lady Macbeth felt , he thought. Shakespeare’s murderous conspirator had scrubbed long and hard trying to get imaginary blood off her hands, too.
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