Under My Care by R.L. Dunn

5

“It’s just Pete now. It’s been a long time, Ro.” Pete, also covered in soot, coughed so hard, his chest rattled. A well-built male grabbed him to stop him from face-planting.

Pete grasped the man’s forearm to regain his balance, his inflamed eyes regarding Rowena. “She’s wheezing. I don’t know how long she was in the smoke before the fire erupted. Sam, make sure the oxygen is humidified,” he strained to get the words out.

“Roger,” another male voice replied. A man in a similar flight suit followed Linde’s stretcher.

“Peter, you need humidified oxygen too.” Rowena nodded at one of the four nurses on duty.

His breathing grew more labored. “Ro, she needs care,” he continued to advocate for Linde. His forehead began to dot with sweat. His color grew grayer, and his lips were turning blue. “Don’t worry about me,” he hacked.

Rowena shot Pete a firm look. A night in Afghanistan haunted her. “Peter, we’ll take care of the little girl. Let us take care of you too.” She took a tentative step closer to him.

Pete’s voice cracked, “Linde Fuentes. Her name is Linde.” He hacked some more.

Rowena scowled. “Are you the boss?” She eyed the man in the black military-style flight suit with salt and pepper hair who had dressed her down.

“I am, ma’am. My name is Mike Johnson,” he introduced himself.

She headed toward the curtained-off area adjoining the one where Linde was moved to, hoping Peter and his colleagues would follow her. Just like herding cows. As they made it into the room, she slid the dividing curtain open so Peter could see Linde and began setting up a non-rebreather oxygen mask beside the adjoining bed.

“Mike, Peter is about to stop breathing. Today seems to be my lucky day as we are being hit by the worst storm in years. The staff the facility planned to be here on standby were not called until it was too late. They are on the other side of the pass, which is no longer accessible. The only way around it is a treacherous three-hour drive—that’s in good conditions. No one will attempt it in these conditions.

“In this hospital, we have forty-nine beds—on paper. We have 105 patients. I am also responsible for the nursing home, which holds sixty-two patients. The only way to get to them is through the area one of your helicopters landed in or a tunnel between the hospital and there. I have one lab technician, one pharmacy technician and one radiology technician.

“And because of the mess, if a patient needs an emergency c-section, you are looking at her surgeon. If any of those babies needs to be stabilized, you are looking at their doctor. If someone bleeds, you’re looking at the surgeon. If someone codes, you’re looking at the head of the code team.

“In a normal twenty-four hours, we see an average eleven ED patients. In my ten-bed ED, all beds are filled, with sixteen more patients in the corridors and only four nurses. Of them, twelve are critical, Peter making lucky thirteen. Under normal circumstances, they would all be transported via land or air to Missoula. Two, including Linde, are pediatric patients, which sadly, we are barely equipped to help.

“Peter, if he doesn’t let me help him, is going to stop breathing from smoke inhalation, and, frankly, I don’t have patience for his nonsense.” Rowena’s muscles tightened around her neck, her heart pounding in her chest.

Mike stepped to parade rest. “Pete, the doctor just relieved you. C’mon, let’s get you on that stretcher.” He grabbed his arm, but midway, Pete’s legs gave out from under him, and his eyes closed. Two Chase operators caught him before he completely collapsed. Quickly, they lifted him to the stretcher.

Pete’s teary, swollen red eyes opened. His breathing was rapid and shallow.

“Sit him up to thirty degrees.” Rowena placed the oxygen mask over Pete’s nose and mouth. She couldn’t resist sweeping his hair off his sooty brow before she listened to his chest.

He was barely moving air. Pete’s right hand came up, wrapping around her wrist. “Th…anks, Ro…,” he choked.

Mike’s eyes flared curiously. “What can we do for you, Doc?”

“Do you have any other pediatric equipment in your helicopter? I have another little girl down the hall who I think is very sick. She came in ten minutes ago from the reservation clinic. I haven’t even seen her yet.”

Mike flashed a set of hand signals. “Sabra, strip the birds.”

Bravo Team’s executive officer, Adina “Sabra” Ganz, and four members of Bravo Team moved to pull any of the portable equipment stowed on the helicopters.

“Paul and Jacob, help the men.” Rowena took a second look. “I’m sorry, help the men and women.” She looked at the men from Chase. “Will you help me get Peter out of the wet flight suit and into a gown? Nakoma, start him on an albuterol nebulizer, hook him up to the monitor, draw full bloodwork and start an IV. Then send off a STAT blood gas. I’ll go check on Linde and my other little girl patient.”

Pete grabbed Nakoma’s arm. “Everyone else before me,” he gasped.

* * *

Rowena moved to Linde’s bedside where a man with piercing green eyes was working over her. “Sam Robison, ma’am. I’m a nationally registered advanced paramedic, former Spec Ops combat medic at your service.”

“Hi, Sam. Tell me about Linde.” Rowena wiped her stethoscope clean before she listened to Linde’s chest and abdomen.

“Linde Fuentes, age four. Caught in a wooden structure fire. Found beneath her deceased mother. During the rescue, she was exposed to the cold and took a ten- to fifteen-foot fall, broken by… Pete’s body.”

Sam was interrupted when Mike parted the curtain. “Doc, I need you to keep Linde’s presence to yourself.” He led Rowena to the windows.

Between his low voice and the windowpanes shaking from the blasts of wind, the commentary stayed secret. “The two helicopters that landed are from Chase Security. In addition to Pete, there are eighteen highly trained operators and four pilots here to help. All have advanced first aid. Nine are like Sam, advanced care paramedics. Feel free to put them to work.”

Mike inhaled and scanned the area. “Linde and her mother were kidnapped seven days ago. Her mother was murdered, and Linde was found in a burning cabin. Pete went in to pull her to safety without respiratory equipment. He was forced to get her to the roof and attempt to rope up to our helicopter. Unable to keep in flight, the co-pilot cut the rope. Pete took the fall for her. That’s all the information we have on her treatment before we reached her.”

Rowena gulped, “Oh my God. Peter got her stable for the moment. I’ll have my nurse, Tayen, wash her and debride any more debris. As soon as I see where the other child is, I’ll form a plan.”

“Rain Man?” Mike called.

“Yes, sir?” Another operator cocked his head in the doorway, looking at Linde. His eyes closed and reopened.

“You’re Rowena’s assistant,” Mike ordered.

Rowena looked up at the man, who was obviously military. Her gut told her he was assigned as more than an assistant. His job was to watch over her.

* * *

Pete swiped at his face and surveyed his surroundings. He lifted off the oxygen mask and started to get up. “How long have I been out?”

“Thirty-eight minutes.” Nakoma, his seasoned Native American nurse, wore a bemused expression.

Pete grumbled. In his Boston accent, especially gravelly from the smoke, he asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Dr. Rowena won’t want you walking around until she can re-examine you.” She chuckled.

“Really. I thought patients could refuse care.” Pete glared at Mike, who appeared to be watching the show from the corner with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t think it has to do with refusing care. We have some people here who may be offended by a naked man walking around.” Nakoma pointed to a basin filled with steaming water. “I was about to bathe you.” Wetting a washcloth, she handed it to him. “You may want to wash some of the smoke and ash from your skin before we get you into a fresh gown.”

Mike was shaking with laughter.

“Not funny, asswipe. Where’s Linde?” Pete braced himself against another hard bark.

The nurse handed him a dose of medication in a nebulizer. “The little one is on the other side of the curtain. Your friend Sam is with her.

“Dr. Rowena and Mr. Noah are seeing other patients. She gave Linde medicine to ease the spasms in her lungs. She also irrigated her nasal passages,” Nakoma advised him while she set up to draw a second blood gas. “You will behave?” She searched his eyes.

Pete figured, if he cooperated, he’d be confined for less time—and he wouldn’t need Rowena as long. “Yes, ma’am.” He offered her his wrist.

“Nakoma, can I come inside?” a young voice asked.

“Yes, PJ,” Nakoma answered the young man as she nimbly took Pete’s blood gas.

Pete raised a brow. “You did that very well,” he complimented her. A blood gas could be a painful procedure, and he’d seen many miss obtaining the sample.

“Dr. Rowena is a good teacher.” She put the capped syringe in a cup of ice.

The curtain parted. A young man with soft hazel eyes and a full head of brown hair held two mugs of coffee. “Meemaw said to give some to everyone.”

“Thank you.” Mike took a cup from the young man.

“Is he allowed to have any?” Rowena’s son stared at Pete.

“Not yet. He needs to worry about his breathing,” Nakoma said.

Pete lifted the nebulizer from between his lips to speak. “Promise me, when I can have one, you’ll bring me a cup?”

“Yes, sir. Can I ask you a question?” The boy’s nose crinkled.

“Sure.” Pete sucked deeply on the nebulizer. He felt his lungs opening.

“Um, are you Mom’s PJ?” Paul chewed his lower lip.

Pete choked and struggled to catch his breath. As he tried to gain his composure, his shoulders slumped, and his jaw went slack.

Mike moved to his side and began to pound on his back. “C’mon, Pete. Slow and easy.”

Paul rubbed his hands on his pants legs. “Nakoma?”

“Mr. Pete, slow breaths.” Nakoma held the nebulizer in front of him, letting the medicated steam surround him.

Pete coughed up a blob of sooty mucus and managed to gain a deep breath. His nose ran, and his eyes watered.

Mike patted a chair beside Pete. “Come sit, PJ. He’s gonna be fine.” He shot a worried look in Pete’s direction.

Pete could hear Rowena. “Sam, thank you for your help. Let me go check on Peter first.” She had always called him Peter.

The curtain rustled, and Rowena rejoined Pete’s side, replacing the mask on his face. “How are you feeling? You need this.” She warmed her stethoscope between her hands. “Deep breaths.” She moved the stethoscope across his back and chest, listening to his lungs.

Her head turned. “Paul, don’t bother these men.”

“No worries, ma’am. I wanted to let PJ see Pete is okay,” Mike said. “He scared him with a bit of a fit.”

“Well, you both can step out a minute. Peter needs some privacy,” Rowena said.

Pete’s heart revved up higher with her gentle touch. He noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but that meant nothing. She didn’t wear one in Afghanistan either. Memories of that touch flooded his body. Jitters overtook him.

“You did a helluva brave thing this morning.” She wiped his face and neck with the warm washcloth.

“I had to…” He inhaled deeply.

“Try.” Her lips turned up.

Pete met her smile with one of his own. He always said “I have to try” when he was about to con her into doing something when they served.

“I’m ordering some x-rays and a chest CT. I’m giving you some methylprednisolone, and you need the one hundred percent oxygen.” She looked in his mouth and up his nose. “You ate some considerable smoke.”

“That happens in a fire,” he deadpanned.

“Still the comedian, I see.” She palpated his neck, shoulders, chest, and when she reached his ribs, he flinched. “Do you have any underlying health issues?”

“No.” His breaths came in grunts.

She reached into her pocket and filled the little cup in the nebulizer with more medication. “Racemic epinephrine. I’m admitting you.”

Pete turned his head to not cough in her face. “I’m not going anywhere in this storm. So don’t worry.” He smirked.

“Your friends advised me they put your shoulder back in place, and I’m sure you broke some ribs. That bruising is just developing. We will also treat and wrap the second-degree burns on your left forearm. Other than that, and your ribs, are you hurting anywhere else?” Rowena sighed.

“Nah, I’m okay, Ro,” he engaged in minimal conversation.

“No headache?” She looked deeply into his hazel eyes.

“Yeah, fine. A little bit of one,” he admitted.

“I’ll add some morphine too.”

He shook his head.

“Tylenol?”

He nodded. He wasn’t sure if it was Rowena or the epinephrine that was causing his heart to race.

She pulled up a stool. “How have things been, Peter? You look good. Mike said you work for Chase Security.” Rowena scraped a hand through her hair. “I see you’re still jumping.”

“I try to keep my flight medic status up to date.” Seventeen years changed little. A few lines had developed around her eyes and lips, but she was as beautiful as ever. “You haven’t changed, Ro.”

Rowena placed the back of her hand against his forehead. “You must be sicker than I thought. I look old.” She laughed.

“You settled here when you finished your service commitment?” Pete closed his eyes briefly, trying to slow his thoughts.

“This is where I grew up. When I finished my contract, I returned home.” Rowena tapped her toes.

Pete’s words were muffled by the oxygen mask. His hazel eyes, red-rimmed by smoke, turned fiery. “You, your husband and PJ settle here after your deployment?”

“There’s no husband. Just me, my sons, Jacob and Paul, and my mom.”

Pete resisted the impulse to caress her cheek. “Your husband?”

“He left me three days before we lost the two little Afghani boys. It was quite a care package. I received pictures Jacob made, divorce papers with a ‘please sign’ Post-it note attached, and a tin of those delicious chocolate chip cookies.”

* * *

The memory slammed into her:

“Andersen. Looks like you’re popular.” The airman handed Rowena a box and a large yellow envelope.

She walked into her billet, smiling as she opened the box. A letter from her parents was attached to a sealed tin of homemade chocolate chip cookies. Her mom had perfected using her Dazey Seal-a-Meal. The cookie confection, despite traveling around the world, melted on her tongue.

Smiling, she read the letter. Her mother was busy with the Junior League, and her father was busy with calving season. Her mom wrote that her dad let her little boy, Jacob, pet a new calf. Rowena remembered the first time she saw a calf being born. It was scary and exciting all at once. Her dad explained it was born too early, and they brought it home to keep it warm and nurse it to health. It lived by their fireplace for the first month of its life.

The sealed, silver-clasped envelope was from her husband Fred. She called home when she could, but in the last month, he was never there when she called. Her mom was always babysitting. Feeling the weight in her hands, she hoped it contained pictures of their almost nineteen-month-old son.

Growing up on adjoining ranches, they had a fairytale romance. Fred was her first boyfriend, her only sexual partner, and now her husband. He was years older and already running his family’s ranch. Her parents insisted she get an education before she considered marrying.

To fulfill her dream of becoming a doctor, she joined ROTC at Montana State University, graduated with a 4.0, and won a prestigious Health Professions Scholarship for medical school and a stipend for her residency. Never expecting to be deployed when she began her required active-duty commitment, she married Fred and gave birth to Jacob. Her baby boy was thirteen-months old when she was sent to Afghanistan. It was the hardest thing she ever did, leaving them behind.

Rowena opened the envelope. Her heart filled with joy at the crayon drawing enclosed. Behind the picture was a packet of papers in that awful white envelope.

Rowena ran from her quarters, praying she could get a call out. She needed permission to reach her parents. The base had spotty service.

“Mom?”

“We’ve been expecting your call. Jacob is safe. Honey, I’m so sorry. We will take good care of him until you get home. It will be okay,” her mother assured her.

“How can you say that, Mom? Did Fred say anything?” Her heart was filled with anguish.

Her father picked up the extension. “Rowena, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Dad, what did he say?” Rowena begged.

“He told us he doesn’t want this life and expected things would be different. He’s living with a girl on the reservation. Sweetheart—”

“Dad, don’t. Please take care of Jacob.” A sob fell from her lips. “Don’t wake him now. I’ll send my next pay home.” Rowena forced herself to be practical. She was an Air Force officer. She wouldn’t let herself cry.

“Fred brought us everything. We are fine. You need to worry about yourself. Stay safe.” Her mother took a thready breath.

“If he comes by, tell him I signed everything. I’ll send it to the court.” Rowena’s voice cracked. “I’ll be okay.” She said the words, but she was a long way from believing them.

Pete coughed, and she came back to the moment. “I found out I was pregnant weeks later.” By then you were gone. “I was sent home until I gave birth and then redeployed again to Afghanistan. This job makes it possible for me to be a single mom, take care of the family ranch and still be a part of their lives. Five other physicians and I share the ER practice.”

She gave him a half smile. “Tomorrow is Paul’s sixteenth birthday.” She looked down and shook her head. “Mommy guilt. I didn’t expect to be snowed in for his celebration. My mom made his favorite stew and cupcakes. If your breathing evens out, I’ll let you have some.” She closed and opened her eyes. “God, I’m rambling.”

When Pete looked up into her eyes, Rowena realized her hand remained resting on his shoulder. “I just got word we were sold to Chase Care, so I think we work for the same place. But I can’t think of what will happen with that. I have the storm to get through.”

“There are twenty-three of us who will be happy to help.” He put his hand atop hers.

“Peter, you did really good work with Linde. The Reaper isn’t going to win this time.” When Rowena placed her hand against his cheek, he turned his head into her palm. “Please rest. You are going to be stuck here for a couple of days. We all are. The weather is getting worse by the minute. I pray we don’t lose power.”

Pete pushed up higher on the stretcher. “Mike?”

Mike stepped from the hallway. “He giving you a problem, Doc?” He glared at Pete.

“No, I’m being a good patient. Pull all the portable equipment and supplies from both helos. Help Dr. Andersen any way the team can.” His eyes teared as he continued to retch and cough.

“Under control. Everything is pulled. Bravo took over the hospital cafeteria and dispersed supplies to help take care of the patients and their family members in the building. They found cots and set them up. They made fresh coffee with the doc’s mom and the cook. If you are good, I’ll let Paul bring you a cup. Doc, he’s a sweet kid,” Mike said.

“Thank you,” Rowena gulped.

“We got word the storm is much worse than anticipated. Two fronts have collided. It’s huge and slow-moving.” Mike cracked his neck. “Rowena gave us access to the staff’s showers. Everyone is getting cleaned up. We had another set of uniforms in the payload. She even gave us access to a washer and dryer so we can detox the flight suits.

“I explained our level of medical training and offered to help.” Mike clapped him on the back. “And, you, idiot, you need to get well quickly. She could use a PA with your skill set.”

“Peter, you made it. You’re a PA now?” Rowena’s eyes twinkled.

“With five specialties: pediatrics, urgent care, emergency medicine, trauma surgery and anesthesia,” Noah joined them, reporting Pete’s resume.

“I always knew you were going to do big things. I could use your help. First, go with Leonard, our radiology technician, for the scans.” Rowena introduced them. “I need to keep working. And your health comes first.”

Pete smiled. “Mike, everyone needs to sleep in shifts.”

Mike’s eyebrows drew together. “It’s under control, Boston.”

Rowena watched Jacob and Paul wheel Peter away with the x-ray technician.

* * *

“What can I do to con you guys into stopping by the cafeteria for a cup of coffee?” Pete asked Jacob and Paul as they headed back to the ER.

“We need to ask our mom first,” Jacob said.

“Fair deal.” Pete struggled to find his words. And it wasn’t from the lung injury. If Rowena found out she was pregnant weeks after he left, she must have conceived Paul in Afghanistan.

“Did you work with our mom in Afghanistan?” Paul’s eyes locked onto Pete’s.

His eyes twinkled. “Hmm, yeah.” He coughed. “I was a PJ, and your mom was an emergency department doctor.”

“She doesn’t talk too much about the war. I don’t know if it made her sad, or she was sad because Dad dumped her while she was there,” Jacob sighed.

“I think it was probably both. War is lousy. And telling her while she was away had to stink too.” Pete looked out one of the windows at the blowing snow. “I’m sorry about your dad. Does he stay in touch?”

“You shouldn’t be. Fred didn’t want any of us. He called my mom all sorts of mean names,” Jacob said.

“I’m sorry.” I should have given her a chance to explain. “Paul, your mom told me your sixteenth birthday is tomorrow. When the blizzard breaks, what do you want to do to celebrate?”

“Mom is taking Jacob and me to Washington, DC on my spring break.” Paul’s smile radiated to his eyes.

“It’s a wonderful place to visit—museums, restaurants, shopping. I live in a suburb of the city. You’re welcome to stay with me.” What the hell was he doing?