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Authors: Karen Kingsbury
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word was more of a gasp.
“No, we won’t.”
Katy’s heart was pounding. Whatever it was, the news was bad. She held her breath, waiting for Rhonda to finish the call.
“Okay.” Rhonda shaded her brow with her free hand. “Talk to you in the morning.”
She closed the phone and stared at Katy.
“What is it?” Katy reached out and put her hand over Rhonda’s.
Rhonda’s voice was breathy, filled with shock. As she spoke, tears brimmed in her eyes. “Katy… there’s been an accident.”
51
CHAPTER SIX
JOHN BAXTER ALMOST NEVER took a shift at St. Anne’s Hospital. He was one of the senior doctors on staff at the univer sity, with a practice that left him no time for the hospital shifts he’d had as a younger man. That night he’d already been in bed thinking about the vegetables he’d get at the farmers’ market when the phone rang.
“Dr. Baxter, there’s been a bad accident, at least one fatality, numerous injuries.” The admitting clerk in the emergency room made a weary sound. “We have just one ER doc on staff tonight.” She paused. “You have more experience than anyone else. Could you please come?”
John didn’t hesitate. “I’m on my way.”
He walked through the doors of the emergency room twenty minutes later. By then the ambulances had brought in both the injured and the deceased. It was standard procedure. Victims were brought to the hospital, a final determination was made, and the coroner was notified. That would give the nurses a chance to clean up the bodies, cover them as much as possible, and notify the next of kin.
52
FORGIVEN
In Bloomington, fatal accidents were uncommon. When they happened, they rocked the emergency-room staff. John could tell that was the case as soon as he walked in. His colleagues were hurrying about in what looked like an organized state of shock.
The admitting clerk who had called John filled him in on the details. “A van full of kids was coming out of a strip mall. The driver turned right, and two seconds later a full-size pickup driven by some young guy and coming from the other direction crossed the center divider. Hit them head-on.”
John cringed. A van full of kids. “Teenagers in both vehicles?”
“No.” Her face was pale. “The van had four young kids, six to twelve. Two from one family, two from another.”
A groan came from John. He leaned on the counter and tried to imagine the way those families’ lives had changed in a single evening. “What about the truck driver?”
“We don’t have the reading yet, but he was loaded. Drunk way beyond the legal limit.”
“He lived?”
The clerk made a face. “He’s fine. Naturally.” She picked up a stack of papers and straightened them, her movements sharp, frustrated. Her eyes found John’s again. “The fatality is a little boy, a six-year-old boy. The twelve-year-old is in a coma; she might not make it. They’re the worst, and they’re from two dif ferent families. The other two kids are in serious condition.”
“Thanks.” John rolled up his sleeves and entered the emer gency area through the double doors. Inside, he washed his hands, taking extra time the way he always did. The news made his stomach hurt. It was why he couldn’t have spent a career in the ER, even though he had started there. Back when the kids were younger, every child who came in on a stretcher had the face of Kari or the eyes of Luke.
They were the age of Ashley or Erin or Brooke. One of them. And now that he had grand children, it was no different.
53
KAREN KINGSBURY
He felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned.
“John.” The ER doctor handed over a chart. “Thanks for coming. I’ve got a girl clinging to life, two kids in serious condition, and a mother in critical. I need you in with the mother. She’s got a bleed somewhere, losing pressure fast.
A transfusion’s been ordered.”
“How’s she look?” John fell into step beside his friend and one of the most respected ER
“No, we won’t.”
Katy’s heart was pounding. Whatever it was, the news was bad. She held her breath, waiting for Rhonda to finish the call.
“Okay.” Rhonda shaded her brow with her free hand. “Talk to you in the morning.”
She closed the phone and stared at Katy.
“What is it?” Katy reached out and put her hand over Rhonda’s.
Rhonda’s voice was breathy, filled with shock. As she spoke, tears brimmed in her eyes. “Katy… there’s been an accident.”
51
CHAPTER SIX
JOHN BAXTER ALMOST NEVER took a shift at St. Anne’s Hospital. He was one of the senior doctors on staff at the univer sity, with a practice that left him no time for the hospital shifts he’d had as a younger man. That night he’d already been in bed thinking about the vegetables he’d get at the farmers’ market when the phone rang.
“Dr. Baxter, there’s been a bad accident, at least one fatality, numerous injuries.” The admitting clerk in the emergency room made a weary sound. “We have just one ER doc on staff tonight.” She paused. “You have more experience than anyone else. Could you please come?”
John didn’t hesitate. “I’m on my way.”
He walked through the doors of the emergency room twenty minutes later. By then the ambulances had brought in both the injured and the deceased. It was standard procedure. Victims were brought to the hospital, a final determination was made, and the coroner was notified. That would give the nurses a chance to clean up the bodies, cover them as much as possible, and notify the next of kin.
52
FORGIVEN
In Bloomington, fatal accidents were uncommon. When they happened, they rocked the emergency-room staff. John could tell that was the case as soon as he walked in. His colleagues were hurrying about in what looked like an organized state of shock.
The admitting clerk who had called John filled him in on the details. “A van full of kids was coming out of a strip mall. The driver turned right, and two seconds later a full-size pickup driven by some young guy and coming from the other direction crossed the center divider. Hit them head-on.”
John cringed. A van full of kids. “Teenagers in both vehicles?”
“No.” Her face was pale. “The van had four young kids, six to twelve. Two from one family, two from another.”
A groan came from John. He leaned on the counter and tried to imagine the way those families’ lives had changed in a single evening. “What about the truck driver?”
“We don’t have the reading yet, but he was loaded. Drunk way beyond the legal limit.”
“He lived?”
The clerk made a face. “He’s fine. Naturally.” She picked up a stack of papers and straightened them, her movements sharp, frustrated. Her eyes found John’s again. “The fatality is a little boy, a six-year-old boy. The twelve-year-old is in a coma; she might not make it. They’re the worst, and they’re from two dif ferent families. The other two kids are in serious condition.”
“Thanks.” John rolled up his sleeves and entered the emer gency area through the double doors. Inside, he washed his hands, taking extra time the way he always did. The news made his stomach hurt. It was why he couldn’t have spent a career in the ER, even though he had started there. Back when the kids were younger, every child who came in on a stretcher had the face of Kari or the eyes of Luke.
They were the age of Ashley or Erin or Brooke. One of them. And now that he had grand children, it was no different.
53
KAREN KINGSBURY
He felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned.
“John.” The ER doctor handed over a chart. “Thanks for coming. I’ve got a girl clinging to life, two kids in serious condition, and a mother in critical. I need you in with the mother. She’s got a bleed somewhere, losing pressure fast.
A transfusion’s been ordered.”
“How’s she look?” John fell into step beside his friend and one of the most respected ER
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