Drained (Edgars Family #6) - Suzanne Ferrell Page 0,9
sensation coursing through him even after she slipped her hand back in her lap.
“You did thank me,” he said, hoping she’d leave it at that.
“I did? I don’t remember it. Between the pain, the surgery and those god-awful months of recovery and then testifying…” She paused and tilted her head quizzically. “When did I say thank you?”
“The night I picked you up out of that bed, all beaten, cut, bruised.” Once again anger at the men who’d treated her so badly surged through him. He tamped it down. It wouldn’t do her or him any good now.
She blinked. “I was so out of it, so confused. I remember your arms holding me tight as you carried me out of there and to the helicopter.”
“You just kept saying, Thank you, thank you, oh God, thank you.” He swallowed before continuing. “You broke my heart as I carried you to the copter. Then you wouldn’t let go of my shirt, so they let me fly with you to the hospital.”
“Oh, I thought,” she glanced away in embarrassment, that she shouldn’t feel.
“And I was happy they did,” he said, leaning over to touch her chin and get her to look back at him. When her eyes met his, he smiled. “You were so frightened and seemed so alone. I didn’t want to leave you either.”
Her tentative smile warmed his heart. “I’m sorry I forced you to come in here. It occurred to me while I was outside that you might be uncomfortable.”
“No, you were right. Paula needed someone to be here for her. Only that initial wave of the staff doing what they needed to, bothered me. Probably because I’ve had a few non-emergency trips to the hospital for my surgeries. But to be honest, hospitals still give me the heebie-jeebies.”
“So, they’ve started blood work and hydrating her?” he asked, trying to distract her from her memories.
“And they slipped oxygen on her, putting the stretcher up high to help her breathe. That seemed to help her color. Then they did something called a sputum culture. It was kind of gross. She had to spit mucous into a cup. It was greenish-yellow.”
“Yeah, I saw that on her tissues back at her place.”
“That’s why you knew she had pneumonia.” It was more a statement than question.
“My mom had pneumonia when I was a kid. She’d hack and cough up that pea-green shit over and over. My dad was working the day she took a turn for the worse. When she became unresponsive, I called nine-one-one.” He paused, clenching his lips tight and reaching in his pocket to pull out another treat for Stanley. “But it was too late.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
Thankfully, before he could embarrass himself further with dark reminiscence of his past, the door to the room popped open and the orderly backed in pulling the stretcher with Paula sitting up on it to the vacant spot. A fortyish nurse with a kind smile followed on his heels carrying a hospital blanket.
“It’s fresh out of the warmer,” she said draping it over Paula, who sighed. Then the nurse quickly put the IV on a mobile pole and the oxygen prongs back in Paula’s nose. “My name is Lana. I’ll be taking over as your nurse, Miss Nowak. We’ll get the results from all the tests in a little bit, but the doctor wants to start you on some antibiotics. I know you were asked this when you came in, but are you sure you’re not allergic to anything?”
Paula shook her head. “Not that…I know of.”
The older woman smiled at her. “I just wanted to double check. Sometimes people remember an allergy after they’ve been here a little while. This is some ibuprofen to bring down your fever,” she said handing Paula two white tablets and a glass of water. “We’ll start the antibiotics by IV and I’ll be giving you some steroids by mouth. In a little bit the respiratory therapist will be in to give you a breathing treatment.”
“Will it…hurt?” Paula asked after taking the pills.
“No,” the nurse reassured her as she set the water glass on the bedside table. “You just breathe in this medicine and it loosens up the crud in your lungs so you can cough it up and breathe easier. You’ll be getting it every four hours around the clock.”
Panic suddenly filled Paula’s face. She ripped the oxygen from her nose and struggled to get out of the bed. “I can’t…stay here around…the clock.”