Just as the swinging door closes behind me, my phone rings. Slipping it from my white lab coat, I suppress a grimace before answering.
“Mother… I’m on my way in to see a patient. I don’t have a lot of time to talk,” I say quietly as I navigate the halls.
“You know I don’t call you unless it’s important, Holly.” She sighs dramatically, causing me to pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the beginnings of a stress headache.
Because just like that, my mother can make a crappy day supremely crappier.
“Your father has been selected as the Franklin R. Murray award winner this year,” she says proudly.
“That’s wonderful,” I say flatly, because I stopped caring about my father’s medical accomplishments years ago. The man went from being my hero and inspiration to become a doctor to being nothing but a big, fat disappointment to me.
She ignores my lack of enthusiasm and continues. “We’d like you to attend the award dinner. It’s next month on the twenty-sixth.”
I reach ER Room Two, which is nothing more than a curtained-off section of the emergency room treatment bay. I can see two large shadows moving behind the curtain and the raised voice of one very irate male, who isn’t speaking loudly but is very clearly pissed.
“This is ridiculous that we’re still waiting to see the doctor. My son is fucking five years old, and he’s scared,” I hear the man say.
I hear the soothing voice of Amy, one of our more seasoned nurses, in there. “She’s on her way, Mr. Davis. And I promise Sam isn’t in any pain.”
“I know that,” he retorts. “He’s just scared and tired. We need to get this taken care of so I can take him home.”
Turning my attention back to my phone call, I quickly tell my mother, “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to make it. Give my congratulations to Father. I have to go now.”
Before my mother can even take in an indignant breath, I disconnect the call and slip my phone back in my pocket.
I push back the curtain to enter Room Two just as I hear Mr. Davis say, “I want a doctor in here immediately, or I want to see the hospital administrator.”
Glancing down to grab the medical chart clipped to the end of the bed, and in my most professional yet conciliatory voice, I say, “I’m truly sorry for your wait, Mr. Davis.”
I paste a warm smile on my face and look up to meet the gaze of the irate father.
And my world pitches, rolls, and then tilts precariously on its axis.
Standing before me is a ghost from the past.
A beautiful ghost standing just over six feet with skin the color of mocha and eyes so light brown they might as well be orbs of amber.
“Tim?” I say hesitantly, almost not believing that he’s standing right there in front of me. The last time I saw him was ten years ago when my father broke my heart and I, in turn, broke Tim’s.
He’s still the same, yet different. He now has a thin mustache and goatee surrounding those beautiful lips and the strong chin I remember so well. His eyes carry a wisdom within them that makes me wonder what he’s been through over the last decade.
Rustling from the bed catches my attention, and I quickly realize that my young patient is Tim’s son. A quick breath in and I collect myself. Putting on a truly warm and genuine smile, I walk to the side of the bed and pat the little boy laying there on the leg.
“Hey… you must be Sam?” I ask him gently, and he nods almost shyly.
His eyes are wide and fearful. They aren’t Tim’s eyes though. Much lighter… a hazel with flecks of green, and I wonder if Sam’s mother is white. The rest of his face is Tim’s though… through and through, and this kid is going to be gorgeous when he grows up.
“How are you feeling?” I ask him softly. “Any pain?”
“No.” He’s so quiet I can barely hear him.
“That’s good,” I say with a smile. “My name is Holly. I’m the doctor that’s going to take care of you today and I promise, I’m going to make you feel all better. Okay?”
He nods… this time with a tiny smile, which I return.
Turning away from Sam, I shoot a quick glance at Tim. He’s not said a word yet to me and by the look on his face, I’m not sure he really wants to talk to me. This I can understand as I’ve often thought over the years what we would actually say to each other if this moment ever occurred, and I always came up flat empty as well.
I walk over to a rolling cart that houses a computer terminal and with a few keystrokes, I have his x-ray results pulled up. It only takes me a nanosecond to see the problem.
Looking over my shoulder at Tim, I motion toward the digital films. “He’s got a small fracture in his first metatarsal.”
Tim takes a few steps and comes to stand beside me. I point to the fracture. “Right there. Good news is that it’s non-displaced and it’s an easy fix. Just a good splint and plenty of resting it for the next three weeks.”
Tim nods, lets out a grateful breath, and then murmurs, “That’s good.”
Turning away from me, he walks over to Sam’s bedside and places his large hand on top of the boy’s head. “Doesn’t look too bad, buddy. Holly is going to put a splint on it and you’re going to have to be careful for a while, but it should heal up fine.”
“In time for baseball season?” Sam asks hesitantly.
“Definitely,” Tim says with a smile, and then leans over to kiss Sam on the forehead. The move is a simple showing of affection from a parent to a child, but for some reason… watching Tim… the man he has become hits a deep chord within me.