Marie Roy

Price: $4.00


A widow who can't celebrate Christmas at home; a doctor worried about losing another young patient. Together, trapped in a storm with a cast of unusual characters, these two find out what life is truly about and work on discovering the peace that has eluded them.

PUBLISHED BY: Aspen Mountain Press
ISBN: 978-1-60168-158-4
CATEGORIES: Romantic Fiction, Chick Lit/Hen Lit, Contemporary, Holidays
KEYWORDS: contemporary romance, widow, doctor, medical romance

EBOOKS BY Aspen Mountain Press


COPYRIGHT Marie Roy/2008

\"The boy's not breathing!\" the EMT yelled. Lightning flashed in the distance. Two uniformed personnel pushed the gurney through the opening doors of County Memorial Emergency Room.

Michael Tanner ran beside the stretcher. Resident on call, he noticed small limp fingers had already turned a bluish tinge, matching the young boy's lips.

Accustomed to emergencies coming in at all times, he still found himself wondering what had occurred that necessitated this latest emergency.

They positioned the comatose boy onto a treatment table. Michael grabbed a black rubber ambubag from a nearby cart. Once in place, he forced life-saving air into the boy's lungs. He glanced over at the intern assisting him. \"Take over!\" Michael ordered. He noticed the difficulty the boy was having breathing so he needed to do an intubation to get air into the boy's lungs. He grabbed a pediatric laryngoscope off the code cart and inserted it into the boy's mouth.

Michael took the endotracheal tube, pushed it between the boy's vocal cords until it slid down into the trachea. He secured the tubing with tape. Yeah, it was becoming second nature for him. He took back the ambubag from one of the intern's grasp and continued to squeeze the bag, forcing air directly into the boy's lungs. He didn't have to think too much about what he had to do anymore, a result of working more hours than he thought he could handle that had him making these split-second decisions.

\"He's coming back,\" one attending nurse whispered. \"I thought we were going to lose another one this week.\"

Michael remained silent, keeping his focus on the boy's face. This was no way for an eleven-year-old to begin his summer vacation: inside his ER, having air pumped into him.

He guessed the boy had probably eaten something that had produced an allergic reaction and had caused the throat lining to swell, blocking the airway. Depending on what had caused the life threatening reaction, if that were the case, he would later inform the boy's parents their son might need to wear some form of ID to prevent future episodes.

He continued to pump the ambubag at the same time watched the nurse attached leads from the electrocardiograph machine to the boy's wrists and ankles. He noticed the scraped knee and imagined the boy falling off a bike or skateboard. Remembering his own childhood, he knew kids at this age played hard.

An IV drip was hooked up.

This one would make it. The realization should have made him feel better and alleviate the emptiness he had been experiencing lately while performing these life saving duties. It should erase the gnawing inside his chest, the cause of which he could not apply a name to without taking time to probe and do all that damn inner soul searching.

Hell, he wasn't up to any self-exploratory crap.

Feelings plagued him, like a lingering cough and it had started ever since the EMTs had brought Suelita Gomes into his ER the week before.

In medicine you had to keep moving forward.

He did not have the luxury to dwell on past failures.

Lately his inability to get past his shortcomings had created a fog of uncertainty that at times wrapped itself around him and prevented him from moving forward.

He plowed his hand through his hair, the length of it letting him know he was long overdue for a cut. Then again, a large part of his life had been set on hold.

Suelita Gomes.

The young girl's name would always haunt him. Now with this other child coming into his ER, it made him question himself as a doctor.

He thought about his broken engagement the year before, which reminded him some of those failures hadn't occurred inside an ER. He'd failed both his professional as well as personal life with these dark marks of defeat.

As the team of nurses and doctors stabilized the boy and readied him for admittance, Michael's job for the most part was done. Without as much as a backward glance he walked out of the ER, sensing that his colleagues were staring after him, their minds working overtime.

Had he almost lost another one?

He had no answer.

One thing he'd learned during his internship into that first year of residency: detachment was an important and useful element that enabled anyone to survive the medical arena. Detachment carried you on to the next case. Detachment allowed you to perform, to get the job done without a lot of leftover emotions hacking away at you until there was nothing left.

Michael wondered if there was any more sticky cinnamon buns left in the staff's lounge. He doubted it. You had to get in there early. That was okay. He'd just take the time to catch a few zees until the next emergency. In a few hours, he'd be post-call and out of there for an entire weekend.

Then it would start all over again come Monday morning.

Or would it?

His stomach hurt--the antacids hadn't helped. His chest felt tight. And the skies outside had grown dark again, making him wonder if the sun ever shone in that part of the country. He knew he needed to get out for a while. He heard the wailing siren of another ambulance. In minutes they would be bringing in yet another victim, another emergency patient into County Memorial.

He pushed the last thought from his mind, ignored the increasing pain inside his stomach along with the tightening in his chest and focused on one word--detachment.


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