Arrhythmia (7 page)

The following day, it was time for a renewed attempt at hooking those two up. I had come up with an airtight plan: I was going to lure Lisa and Desiderio into the kitchen under some pretext and then leave them there by themselves. That way, they would inevitably start up a conversation and get to know each other better. Foolproof!

So I was in a good mood as I set out to find them. I eventually located them in a treatment room, working on a cast. I slunk surreptitiously around the doorway until they discharged their patient and then intercepted them in the hallway.

“Hi there, you two,” I said, my voice lilting. My levity made Desiderio frown slightly, but I didn’t allow it to irritate me. “We’ve worked so hard today. What do you say I get us some ice cream as a reward?”

Desiderio seemed inclined to accept my proposal, but Lisa grimaced. “No, thanks, not for me.”

That was it! I could almost process the notion of no parties, alcohol, or action movies. But no ice cream?
What the hell?

“Why not?” I burst out, honestly surprised.

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

I stared at Lisa in total disbelief for a moment. Then I inhaled noisily.

“I see. That reminds me, I wanted to show you something. Come with me.”

Without waiting for a reply, I grabbed my baffled coworker by the arm and dragged her past Desiderio into the storage room. I slammed the door behind us and positioned myself in front of her, snorting angrily.

“‘I’m lactose intolerant’?
What the hell is wrong with you?” I snapped at her.

Lisa stood in front of me, completely bewildered. “What? I am!”

“So what? Here I am, trying to get you and Desiderio together somehow, and all you have to say on the matter is that dairy products give you diarrhea and flatulence?”

“But that’s not what I said!”

“Lisa? The dude is a doctor and he knows exactly what that means. It means that you won’t get off the toilet for three days if you accidently swallow a spoonful of yogurt.”

“Oh.”

“Exactly.”

Furious, I began pacing the floor of the small storage room. The fact that I had to turn around after every second step probably diminished the drama of my performance.

“Listen, I don’t know what else I can do. You have to play along a little bit when I try to find a topic of conversation for you two. If he likes action movies, then you like action movies as well, got it? That would have been a perfect lead-up to a date, but no! Because you prefer tearjerkers. Man, Lisa, I’m running out of ideas!”

“That’s OK,” Lisa muttered.

I stood still. “What?”

“You don’t have to try anymore,” she said louder. “Desiderio isn’t interested in me.”

“Huh? How do you know that?”

She tugged at a loose thread on her top and looked at me seriously. “Because he’s interested in you.”

I stared, squinted, and stared even more.

“What?” I blurted. “Where did you get that idea?”

“Oh, Lena, it’s blindingly obvious. If he looked at me just once the way he looks at you, I would die of embarrassment.”

I made a disapproving sound.

“No, really,” Lisa protested. “And it’s fine. We’re completely wrong for each other. We have absolutely nothing in common.”

I had noticed that myself.

“You might not have an awful lot in common, but—” I began diplomatically, but Lisa interrupted me with uncharacteristic harshness.

“No buts!” she said with determination. “Desiderio has no interest in me, and that’s fine because there would be no future for us. So don’t worry about me. As far as I’m concerned, you get the green light.”

She grinned at me conspiratorially.

Green light? To go where, exactly? Into hell with the devil with the ocean-blue eyes?

“No, thank you!” I practically screamed my answer, making Lisa step away defensively. “I don’t want anything to do with that arrogant Italian! What gave you the idea that I did?”

“Well, I just thought . . .”

I swept aside her attempt at an explanation with my hand. “You thought wrong. There is nothing between the two of you, fine. But there is definitely nothing between him and
me
. He can gawk at me all he wants; I’m not interested. And you misunderstood everything where that’s concerned anyway.” I was already holding the door handle when I turned once more to my intimidated coworker. “And in any case, you and I are going to go out together soon. We’ll dance and drink until we throw up, and afterward we’re going to watch the entire Die Hard series!”

My face was burning when I rushed out of the storage room. Confused, Lisa stayed behind and probably didn’t know whether to take my final words as a threat or an invitation.

In search of some distraction, I stumbled into Examination Room Three and ran into Desiderio, of all people, as he was speaking with a female patient. I was trying to slip out without being noticed when I heard, “Oh, Nurse Lena, good thing you’re here. I need a brace for this hand.”

“Of course,” I replied with clenched teeth and immediately got to work.

While I wrapped the woman’s wrist with an elastic bandage, Desiderio explained the follow-up care to her. “You have to rest the hand and elevate and ice it. I’m giving you painkillers for three days, and those will also help with the swelling. After that, please take this piece of paper to your primary-care physician for a follow-up. If there is no significant improvement within a week, come back and see us.”

When I had finished the bandage, he handed the emergency report and medication to the patient. “I wish you all the best.”

The woman thanked him blissfully and left the room.

I changed the paper cover on the table while Desiderio again observed me unabashedly.

Don’t get upset, Lena!

I even succeeded. At least I preserved my outward calm. I was about to leave the room when he blocked my way as if by accident.

“Does your ice cream offer still hold?” he asked casually.

Great . . .

“Maybe later,” I replied evasively. “There’s still some left in the waiting room, you know.”

Desiderio looked at me pensively and found his look met with my exhausted one.

What does he want now? To invite me to an ice cream parlor?

“Lena, your efforts are quite sweet, but I’m not interested,” he said at last. “Lisa is an extremely nice girl, but she’s not my type.”

I was so surprised that I didn’t even know where to begin to come up with an excuse. The only sound I was capable of uttering was a silly “Huh?”

He laughed out loud. “Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean. As I said, your attempts at matchmaking were really sweet. But at the moment, there is only one woman who interests me.”

I could feel the color of my face change from ashen to bright red.

“First of all,” I snarled, “nothing having to do with me would ever deserve modifiers like ‘cute’ or ‘sweet.’ And secondly, I still have no interest whatsoever in you.”

He tilted his head to the side in surprise. “Who says I meant you?”

My mouth opened and closed automatically, and I must have looked like a fish out of water. “I . . . uh . . .”

While I was busy trying to sort out my thoughts, Desiderio came a little step closer. Lasciviously, he raised one corner of his mouth and said, “No worries. Of course I meant you, little warrioress.” His voice sounded even sexier than it did normally. “And at this moment, you absolutely do look ‘cute.’”

My eyes grew wide in disbelief, and I hissed as I breathed in.

Who did this snot think he was?

“If you come one step closer,” I growled, menacingly raising a fist, “I’ll show you how cute I can really be.”

Unfortunately, Desiderio did not seem frightened in the slightest. He turned away from me with a highly amused laugh.

Seething, I stormed past him and fumed, not over his words themselves but about the effect they had on my knees.

Damn arrogant show-off!

Chapter 9

“How’s work going?” Frank wanted to know.

He was using a brush to paint a corner of his living room pale blue. A few steps away, I was using a broad roller on the same wall.

“Oh, same as usual,” I answered. “You know, small scratches some days and sawn-off fingers on others.”

“I see.”

We worked in silence for a while, and I was reminded once again how much I hated painting. My arms were hurting from the constant up and down and, despite the fact that we’d been at it for over an hour, the wall seemed to be never ending. At least Frank had volunteered to do the finishing touches on the corners and along the windows, because I had no patience for that.

Up and down, dip in the paint, up and down. The gorgeous blue color I had chosen was little consolation.

“For the dining room, we might want to consider wallpaper,” I groaned as I stretched on my tiptoes to reach the upper part of the wall.

“Don’t you think that part might be too hard?” laughed Frank.

“Certainly not.”

“Lena, I’ve already told you: You don’t have to do this. I won’t be upset if you want to go home.”

I huffed. “Of course I have to do it! I promised you. And it’s kind of fun.”

“Kind of?”

“Man, just let me complain, why don’t you?”

“All right, all right.”

For a long while, the only sound was the rustling of my paint roller.

“For heaven’s sake, this wall never ends!” I finally said. “Why do you have to have such a huge living room anyway? I like your bedroom much better.”

Frank stopped what he was doing and grinned at me insolently. “A woman who likes my bedroom. Intriguing!”

Menacingly, I pointed my tools in his direction. “Careful, I’m armed!”

He quickly raised his hands. “Please don’t!”

“OK, I forgive you,” I said. “When do you expect your wall unit?”

“Thursday.”

“I have a night shift so I can’t help you set it up until the weekend.”

“No problem. How about Saturday afternoon?”

“Perfect. Works for me.” I wiped a few strands of hair from my forehead and sighed. “By the way, you owe me at least a three-course dinner so that I can recover from this exertion.”

The next evening, I dutifully arrived for the first of three night shifts.

I hated the night shift.

On days I had to work these ungodly hours, I practically didn’t see the outside world. I crawled into bed after my shift, wandered around my apartment when I woke up, and dragged myself back to the ER in the evening. The hospital was my whole life during night shifts. No matter how much I slept, I was always tired and worn out. My attitude was probably part of the problem, but the result was the same.

I hated night shifts. Period.

I need to add some clarification regarding our ER. In order for an ER to function efficiently, there need to be emergency cases to tend to. In Lower Bavaria, it was generally the custom to slumber peacefully in one’s bed during the nighttime hours, a fact that fundamentally affected the occupancy of our waiting room. So it would be true to say that it could get boring during the night.

Of course, there were other types of night shifts. Mostly those occurred during a full moon or on the weekends when there were big parties—or, even worse, when the two coincided. Then you could expect all hell to break loose.

Since the volume of work couldn’t be predicted beforehand, the night nurse had to brace herself for all possible scenarios.

In my case, that meant a bag full of interior design magazines, a furniture catalog, and a floor plan of Frank’s apartment. In addition, our nurses’ kitchen conveniently contained a small TV and Internet access, both of which had kept me from falling asleep on many a slow night.

I lugged my bag through the outpatient department, saw that all treatment rooms were empty, and finally arrived in the kitchen.

I was greeted there by Lisa, Sandra, and—much to my chagrin—Desiderio.

Oh no! Was he already doing his first night shift?

All alone?

With
me
?

While surgeons on duty technically had access to an on-call room in which they could catch some shut-eye, Desiderio’s wide grin told me he was extremely pleased to see me and had no intention of withdrawing for a nap any time soon. And certainly not before whispering the odd impertinence into my ear.

Crap!

In light of the long hours ahead, I would have loved nothing better than to flee. But I cautioned myself to play it cool. Why must I flee from this Prince Charming? No, this photo spread of a man was not going to make me lose my cool!

I put on a neutral face and plunked my reading materials down on the table. “Hi, everyone.”

“Diversion is the best solution,” Sandra said wisely. She peered into my bag without hesitation. “Are you remodeling?”

“You could say that. I’m sort of working as an interior designer for a friend of mine,” I explained as I stowed my ample provisions in the refrigerator. They were ample because there was nothing worse than getting hungry in the middle of the night with no food in sight.

“Oh, I’m currently remodeling as well,” Desiderio piped up, unsolicited. “I could use an interior designer myself.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’m not taking on any new projects at the moment,” I said quickly. I looked at him dismissively. “Are they already unleashing you on the emergency cases on your own or what?”

My insolent tone made Sandra look anxiously back and forth between the physician and me. Oh shit. I needed to get ahold of myself to avoid arousing her suspicion. My favorite coworker was one of the biggest gossips in the whole hospital. I didn’t want to think what would happen if she were to get wind of Desiderio’s advances! She might end up telling Reinmann, and then the entire town would know in two days.

Desiderio seemed unperturbed by my unfriendly tone. “Chief Physician Baumer seemed to think I was ready,” he explained.

He leaned back smugly and crossed his arms behind his head, making his shirt ride up a little and exposing a small strip of his flat, suntanned stomach.

My eyes were attracted as if by magic and lingered a moment on the sight, something Desiderio registered with a twitch of his mouth.

Damn! This calculating dirtbag!

I prayed to God that Sandra hadn’t noticed my crimson cheeks and fled to the locker room. But I knew I couldn’t spend the next ten hours in front of my locker. I took a deep breath and held my head up high as I reentered the kitchen.

There was some upheaval as Sandra and Lisa, now finished with their shift, packed up their belongings and said good-bye while I brewed myself a fresh coffee. When they finally left, the silence seemed like a blessing.

Or it would have, had it not been for this shamelessly good-looking man observing me from across the table.

His arms were still crossed behind his head, but I was wise enough to keep my eyes away from that alluring piece of skin. I stared at him as sourly as I knew how.

“Is this going to go on all night?” I asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re gawking.”

Desiderio finally lowered those muscular arms. “All right by me. I just enjoy looking at you.”

“I’ve noticed,” I replied. “We call that kind of thing ‘voyeurism’ around here, by the way.”

“No, a voyeur observes in secret. I, on the other hand, admit to it.”

I snorted dismissively even though he was kind of right.

“It’s still annoying,” I grumbled.

He smiled. “Yes, but that makes it all the more interesting. Whenever you get annoyed, you pull your eyebrows together slightly, which creates three little wrinkles over your nose. That looks incredibly cute. And yes, ‘cute’ is exactly the right word for it.”

This guy was something else!

“You really want to drive me crazy, don’t you?” I groaned and tried to smooth my brow inconspicuously.

“Not necessarily. At this moment, all I want to do is go out with you.” He looked at me earnestly. “We’ll see what happens after that.”

“Ex-
ac-
tly!” It was fairly obvious what he thought would happen after that. “Give it up already. I’m not interested.”

“Why not?”

What?

Good question. Why not? Because he was a dangerous charmer who would break my heart, that’s why! But did I really want to tell him that to his face?

“I have my reasons,” I said evasively, after a while.

“Which you do not wish to divulge to me.” Desiderio tilted his head slightly to the side.

“No.”

He sighed. “That’s a shame. If I knew the reasons, I’d be able to convince you otherwise . . .”

Oh sure, with lies and sweet talk . . .

“Which would be much easier. As it is, it seems I’m just going to have to work harder.”

What now?

“Is this the first time you’ve ever been rejected?” I asked, feeling the aforementioned wrinkles form over my nose. I allowed them to happen.

Desiderio pretended to think. Then he answered coolly, “Yes, now that you mention it.”

I tried to appear haughty. “Yeah, that would explain a thing or two. You’re not used to having a woman turn you down. Therefore, you feel your reputation as a ladies’ man might be in danger, so you’re fighting even harder to make me say yes, just in order to protect your ego. But you know what? This little rejection is good for that ego of yours. It was overdue for a reality check.”

He looked at me, astounded, and asked, “Do you really find me that conceited?”

I was about to agree, but I realized that wouldn’t be the truth. Desiderio didn’t exactly seem conceited. Maybe just too sure of himself. I told him so.

He seemed to like my explanation. “I suppose I can live with that.”

We were interrupted by two noisy paramedics bringing in a patient on a stretcher. I was relieved because I couldn’t think of anything else I wanted to contribute on the subject of Desiderio’s self-regard.

The paramedics handed us a miserable seventeen-year-old girl dressed in hot pants and a tank top, clearly unsuitable clothing for careening on a scooter down a freshly tarred road. The girl—I’ll call her Tanja—looked accordingly banged up.

Tanja’s body was one big road rash, and I can confirm that those injuries are exactly as painful as they look. The poor thing even had a nasty abrasion across her right breast up to the nipple—ouch!

The whole situation became even worse once Desiderio showed up. It was obvious how embarrassed she was for the handsome young doctor to see her like that. She seemed downright desperate as she tried to salvage her tear-smeared eye makeup. I did not tell her it was pointless as the mascara had already spread across her entire face.

I cleaned and bandaged all visible wounds while Desiderio questioned Tanja about the details of the accident. Between subdued sobs, she told him she had been on her way home when an elderly gentleman in a Mercedes had ignored her right-of-way on the main street. She had managed to avoid a collision but had lost control of her scooter. Good thing she’d been wearing her helmet despite the heat.

Desiderio listened patiently to her narrative before he began to examine her. It appeared that she had been lucky, apart from pain in her wrist and the loss of a third of her skin. DiCastello ordered an X-ray, and I took Tanja—who by now resembled a mummy thanks to my bandages—to radiology.

Not long afterward, the three of us were standing together in the consulting room again and looking at the images.

“Your wrist is broken here,” Desiderio finally declared. “It’s really not all that bad. Nothing has been displaced, so you won’t be needing surgery. We’ll get you a splint, and you’ll be fine in no time.” He turned to me. “Dorsal underarm splint, please.”

I nodded silently and took another close look at the image.

“Come with me, Tanja. I’ll take you to the cast room,” I told the mummy and led her out.

A few moments later, I returned by myself and carefully closed the door behind me. Desiderio looked up from the accident report he was filling out with a questioning look. “Was there something else you needed?”

I tilted my head and pointed to a spot on Tanja’s X-ray. “Look at this. I think it might be a small fracture. Here, on the scaphoid bone.”

Desiderio carefully examined the small spot I was pointing to. He slowly nodded. “Could be,” he admitted.

“I’d like to make a splint with the thumb abducted. Maybe we should schedule a CT for a few days from now,” I said in an appeasing but firm tone. I awaited his reaction somewhat tensely.

To his credit, he didn’t appear the slightest bit offended or insulted. There weren’t many physicians, especially newbies, who could handle having a nurse make a treatment suggestion, let alone having one point out errors they had made.

Desiderio, however, gave me a grateful look and said, “Yes, let’s do that. Very good, Lena. And thanks.”

“What for?”

“Mainly for the fact that you were gracious enough not to point out my error in the patient’s presence.”

“There was no error. After all, there’s nothing certain on the scan. It’s just an extra precaution. Anyway, it’s easy to overlook things.”

He smiled, and the expression in his eyes made my heart leap. “We’re a good team.”

I struggled to remain indifferent, shrugged my shoulders, and hurried to the cast room before the pounding of my heart developed into full-blown arrhythmia.

Maybe I should consult someone in cardiology, because something wasn’t right if my heart could be so unsettled by a mere smile.

Once Tanja’s flustered mother had collected her, I began my nightly rounds through the ER. I checked every room for order, completeness, and potentially forgotten patients; sorted the magazines in the waiting room; and turned out the lights in most rooms. Nighttime is nighttime, and even an emergency room should make accommodations for that.

Although I was taking my time and intentionally loitering, I knew that Desiderio was still sitting in the kitchen the whole time.

Why didn’t he retire to the on-call room and leave me alone?