Sacred Trust (5 page)

Lauren waved at him from the far back left corner, where two smaller tables had been pushed together for a larger group. Much larger. Only Lauren was left.

“You're late,” she called out, still waving for him to join her.

Lukas stood, staring at her in dismay. He had no desire to be rude, but he also had no desire to have dinner alone with a nurse who worked with him. Was he that late? Where were the others? Still, how could he turn around and walk out now?

He stepped hesitantly toward the back. “Sorry. I had to finish my charts; then I had to find this place. That turned out to be more of a challenge than I'd expected.” He glanced at his watch. It was eight-thirty and the shift had ended at seven. Okay, so he was pretty late. “How long have you been waiting?”

“It's only been about twenty minutes since the last person left. Carol and Rita had to get home to their hubbies as soon as they ate. Connie and Ron, the ambulance team on duty tonight, got a call. Beverly and Buck had a lion
to feed, and I know for a fact that Beverly took that Mustang by the car wash to clean it out.” Lauren indicated the cluttered stack of plates that had not yet been cleared. “Sorry, you're stuck with just me.” She signaled the waiter and kicked out a chair across the table from her. She had released her long, blond hair from its rubber band, and wispy tendrils framed a face devoid of makeup. “I ordered for you, and they've been keeping it warm in back.”

Lukas wished she hadn't done that. “Could they make it to go? I'll just take it with me. There's no reason for you to have to sit—”

“Sorry, too late.” She gestured toward the waiter, who carried out a sizzling platter of chicken, onion and peppers, and a steamer with hot flour tortillas. “I overheard you telling one of the patients today how much you loved authentic chicken fajitas, so I took the liberty of ordering them for you. Come on, sit down. They won't taste nearly as good cold.”

This had been a stupid idea. Why had he agreed to come? But Lukas was hungry, and that hunger overrode his sense of caution. And this wasn't a date. He pushed the chair back in that she had kicked out for him, and instead he took the chair next to it, in spite of the mess of cluttered dishes he had to move aside. He would not get lured into an intimate dinner for two, or even the appearance of one.

If Lauren took offense at his small act of rebellion, her expression hid it well. She leaned back and rested her feet on the rail of the chair he had discarded. “Dig in, Doc. I know you're hungry. I don't think you've eaten anything since lunch, have you?”

“Breakfast, actually. Late breakfast.” He bent his head in a short, silent blessing, then looked up to find Lauren
nodding with approval. Big deal. The nurse in KC had pretended to approve of his faith, too, at first, until it got in the way of other things she wanted.

“Found a church yet?” Lauren asked, watching Lukas overstuff his first tortilla.

“Not yet. I haven't had a chance.” He took a large bite, the force of which pushed half the meat and veggies back onto the plate from the wrap. The smoky heat so filled his mouth and senses that for a few seconds he didn't realize Lauren had resumed talking.

“…Covenant Baptist, just about four blocks from where you live.”

Lukas shot her a wary glance as he chewed and swallowed. “You already know where I live?” He'd just been there a few days.

“Oh, don't worry, I'm not checking up on you. The real estate agent who sold you the place is a friend of mine,” she explained as he took another bite and washed it down with water. “You don't grow up in a small town like Knolls without getting to know most of the other natives. Everyone's talking about the new full-time E.R. doc, and they probably all know where you live.”

Lukas gulped another bite without comment. He, too, was from a small town, and because of that he knew he probably wouldn't be accepted here as one of them for twenty years.

“So do you think you'll come?” she asked.

He stopped chewing and looked at her.

“To church Sunday.”

“I'll probably go somewhere.” He built another fajita, this time with less filling, while Lauren chatted on about the hospital.

He learned quite a few interesting facts about his new
place of employment, such as the doubled volume of patients seen through the emergency department since Mrs. Estelle Pinkley took over as administrator five years ago. The lady had, according to Lauren, brought the hospital out of the computerless dark ages and out of debt for the first time in over a decade.

“But you'd better watch yourself,” Lauren warned as Lukas finished his last bite of chicken. “The E.R. director doesn't want a full-time physician working here.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “With Dr. George, who knows? He fought Mrs. Pinkley about the computers, too. He's about ready to retire, and he doesn't like change.”

Lukas glanced around to find the waiter flipping around the Closed side of the sign in the front window. “Looks like we should be leaving. Will they give us a ticket at the cash register?”

“Don't worry, I paid it already.”

Lukas reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. He smiled as kindly as he knew how and placed the money on the table in front of her. He knew as he left that he was behaving like a jerk. It bothered him. Lauren seemed like a good, caring person, and she was probably just being kindhearted to a newcomer. Still, he wasn't going to take any chances.

T
hursday morning Lukas arrived at work later than usual, dripping with dew from the light rain outside. He could have kicked himself for oversleeping. The shift change would just have to be with the emergency department director, Dr. Jarvis George.

“Morning, Judy. Any patients waiting?” Lukas asked as he checked his mail cubicle.

“Good morning, Dr. Bower.” The E.R. secretary for today's shift turned from her computer and smiled at him. “Dr. George is in the laceration room sewing a nursing-home patient who was injured when she became combative. We've got an irritable child in five and a possible sprain or fracture in seven. Dr. George hasn't seen them.”

Lukas glanced at his watch. Even though he was ten minutes late, he had time to change into his scrubs. The patients weren't critical, and Dr. George would want to finish his own sutures. “Thanks, Judy. I'll be right back.”

He glanced into the emergency room and glimpsed the director bent over his patient. Jarvis George's gray
white hair, army-cut short, could have depicted a kindly older gentleman who loved his patients and whose patients trusted and loved him. Maybe that was the case. Lauren's warning about Dr. George echoed from last night.

When Lukas walked into the laceration room a few moments later, he was friendly and upbeat.

“Good morning, Jarvis. Do we have any patients you want me to take?” He glanced at the elderly female who lay prone on the table, her nearly fleshless tailbone and hip exposing a small gash beside a partially healed bedsore.

The older man straightened from his work and pierced Lukas's friendliness with a glare. “I don't know how you were taught to address your superiors in your Kansas City hospital, Dr. Bower, but I prefer a little less familiarity, if you don't mind.”

Lukas managed not to stare. “Excuse me, Dr. George. I meant no disrespect. I guess I am accustomed to a more casual atmosphere.” Wow, Lauren was right. There seemed to be a problem here.

Dr. George returned to his sewing. “You can see to the whiny kid in five. He's got an earache. The patient in seven has a probable sprained ankle. I've been busy sewing, and since you came in late, I haven't had a chance to—Ouch!”

Lukas had watched it happen, had seen the needle pierce the glove in the palm of the man's left hand, and winced as he imagined the puncture.

“Can't believe I did that,” the director muttered to himself. He shot a quick look toward Lukas, as if blaming him for the distraction.

Lukas stepped out of the room. “Nurse,” he called and found redheaded Beverly coming from the child's room. “We need a needlestick protocol in here, please.”

“I beg your pardon,” Dr. George rumbled as he stepped around the laceration table and out toward Lukas. “Nurse, ignore that request,” he said, not taking his gaze from Lukas.

Lukas cleared his throat, staring back at his new director in dismay. “I'm sorry, Dr. George, I didn't mean to offend. I've just been reading about protocol, and—”

“I'm aware of protocol, Bower,” Dr. George snapped. “I helped write it.”

Lukas winced. He was not winning a friend here.

The director waved Beverly away, still glaring at Lukas. “If you will kindly take care of your patients and leave me alone with mine, I'll be able to get home sometime this morning.”

“Yes, Dr. George. Sorry. I'll go see my patients now.” Lukas hustled away, resisting the urge to ask the director if his tetanus was at least up-to-date.

The sprain turned out to be a hairline fracture. The earache did not require antibiotics. After Lukas had splinted the ankle and convinced a distraught mother that the medicine she requested could actually set her child up for a more resistant strain of ear infection later, Lukas finished his charts and checked for more arrivals.

“Think I'll go to breakfast now, Beverly,” he said when he found no other patients listed on the schedule board. He started down the hallway, then turned back. “Oh, by the way, where are the incident report forms kept?”

Beverly raised a brow at him. “They're filed in the secretary's cabinet. Tell me you're not going to report Dr. George.”

“Rules are rules. Even if he doesn't follow protocol, I'm required to make a report. It's plainly listed in the little booklet I received the other day.”

“You're going to find that we don't always follow the rules to the letter around here.”

“Thanks, Beverly, but safety comes first. There's a good reason for those rules.” He'd gotten into trouble before when he'd been lenient with a nurse and overlooked a break in protocol when she had violated a direct order from him. It gave her a chance to falsify the record.

“He'll find out. He knows everything that goes on around here,” Beverly warned.

He waved and left for breakfast.

 

Theadra Zimmerman—Tedi to anyone who valued life—couldn't concentrate. She could barely keep her eyes open even to look outside, where the rain fell as if God had decided to wash off the new leaves and speed the growth of the grass.

Good thing she sat behind Jeff McCullough in class. His broad shoulders would cover her from Mrs. Watson's probing eyes and catch-you-off-balance questions. The fifth-grade teacher always seemed to ask Tedi more questions than anyone, and she even expected better answers from Tedi than she did from Abby Cuendet, who always got straight As.

Tedi leaned her chin down onto her fists on the desk as Mrs. Watson droned on about new discoveries regarding the rings of Saturn.

Dad and Julie had fought last night, the first time Tedi had heard them fight since they'd begun dating two months ago. Julie didn't like Dad drinking so much. Big surprise. Tedi didn't like it, either, but that didn't stop him. Last night she'd sat up in the hallway, eavesdropping, wondering if maybe he would listen to Julie, even though he wouldn't listen to anyone else.

When Julie finally left, she'd slammed the front door behind her. Apparently Dad had not listened to her, either.

Tedi felt a weird combination of disappointment and satisfaction. Why should a near stranger be able to do something she herself had tried to do for such a long time?

And what made Julie think that just because she was blond and pretty and wore a lot of makeup…

“Tedi Zimmerman, I asked you a question,” came Mrs. Watson's sharp voice.

Tedi jerked. Her chin slipped off her fist.

Jeff's shoulders shifted as he turned to look at Tedi along with the rest of the fifth-grade class. This gave Mrs. Watson a clear view of Tedi trying to straighten up and look alert.

Mrs. Watson gave her that “I've had it with you, kid” look and shook her head.

“Class, I want you to read the next few pages on Neptune. No talking while I'm gone. Tedi, come with me.”

For a moment Tedi sat and stared at Mrs. Watson. “Where?”

“Now, Tedi.”

This was new.

“Theadra Zimmerman—”

“Okay.” Tedi didn't look at anyone else as she got up and followed Mrs. Watson out the door. She could imagine Abby's smirk behind her back, but who cared? Nobody liked Abby.

Mrs. Watson closed the door on the classroom and turned to face Tedi, arms folded in front of her. “Ordinarily I would send a sleeping child to the nurse's office to take a nap, but you are not an ordinary child. I've had high hopes for you, but you've done more daydreaming, talking and disrupting than you've done homework in the past few weeks. I want to know why.”

Tedi stared at her teacher's frowning face. She didn't look mad, but she wasn't happy.

“Are you taking me to the principal's office?” Tedi asked in a meek voice.

Mrs. Watson sighed and leaned against the hallway wall. She studied Tedi's face. “Does your father help you with homework?”

Uh-oh, she is going to drag Dad into this.
“He's been really busy lately.”

“How about your mother?”

“I don't see her every night.” And she wasn't about to waste time on homework during visitations.

Mrs. Watson put a gentle hand on Tedi's shoulder. “What's going on at home?”

Tedi looked away. “Nothing.”

Another sigh. “Look, I'm trying to be fair about this, but your parents are paying a lot of money to send you to this school, and—”

“My mother is paying the money.”

Mrs. Watson nodded thoughtfully. “Nevertheless, this is an accelerated class, and you're falling behind. We need to do something about it.”

Tedi didn't know what to say. She hadn't done all her homework lately. Dad wasn't there to nag her about it much, and it was just easier to read or watch TV.

“Come on.”

Tedi's eyes widened. “Where are we going?”

“We're going to call your father. Maybe he can help us find out what the problem is.”

Tedi drew back. “Why don't we call Mom? She's the one—”

“Your father has custody.”

Tedi didn't move. “I still have a mother.”

Mrs. Watson continued down the hallway. “Fine, stay there. Your father will find you there when he comes to get you.” She turned around. “Unless you want to talk about it.”

Tedi shrugged. “I guess he'll find me here.”
Then he'll kill me. My blood and guts will be all over the hallway when class gets out. Hope it makes Abby Cuendet throw up.

But then what would happen to Mom and Grandma Ivy?

 

At least an hour later, Tedi saw Dad coming down the hallway from the principal's office. She held her breath until he reached her. His neck and face were flushed all the way up to his short blond hair.

The bell rang, and classroom doors opened all along the hallway.

“Let's go,” Dad said.

Tedi breathed again, following him out the side exit. She ignored the other kids as they rushed out of class. Dad ignored them, too, which probably broke Lyssa Cole's heart. She had a crush on him. She was weird.

After Tedi stepped into the passenger side of their red BMW, Dad slammed the door so hard she went cold all over. Yep, he was mad.

Her hands gripped each other tightly in her lap as the engine roared into life and the car sprang forward. Why had she been so stubborn with Mrs. Watson? She'd refused to even go back into the classroom and get her books. Now she'd not only be in trouble, but she would be making trouble for herself for later.

But she wasn't trying to be stubborn. Not really. She just hadn't wanted to face the class.

Okay, maybe she was a little mad at Mrs. Watson. Why did she expect so much?

Tedi glanced sideways at Dad. Was that alcohol she smelled?

He made a turn too fast, and Tedi fell against the door. She didn't have her seat belt on. She reached up and pulled it down and fastened it. Just in time.

Dad slammed on the brakes, screeching the tires for at least three feet.

Yes, that was alcohol on his breath.

Tedi looked at him. He had “patriotic” eyes—red, white and blue. She'd heard Mom use that term about him often enough that it wasn't funny anymore. Especially now.

He stared straight ahead. “You think I'm a reckless driver?” he demanded.

Reckless
was a stupid word. Made it sound like you could never have a wreck. Dad was “wreckful,” not “wreckless.” He'd had several accidents to prove it.

“No, Dad, I don't think you're reckless. I just forgot to put my seat belt on when we got into the car. I always wear my seat belt. Mom makes me wear it. When you turned—”

Dad gunned the motor and sped along Highway F toward home. “I get your point.”

How could he get a point she was trying not to make?

She glanced sideways at him again. “Um, Dad, would you please slow down a little? This is scaring me.”

“You should've thought of that before you made that airhead teacher of yours call me.”

Tedi grimaced with growing anger. “I didn't make her call you. I fell asleep in class, and she made a big deal out of it.”

“That's not the way I heard it from her. I heard this isn't the first time you've caused trouble in class lately. Do you know she had me paged from an important luncheon
meeting with some prospective buyers for the Reynolds Ranch? Do you know how much commission I stand to lose on that deal?” He turned into their drive at home.

Tedi wondered if that was one of those martini lunches she'd heard about. “Sorry I'm such a pain to you, Dad.”

He didn't even catch the sarcasm in her voice. “If I lose that sale, we may think about taking you out of that fancy school of yours.”

Tedi gritted her teeth. Why should he care? He wasn't paying for it.