Undercover M.D.

“Maybe your wife thought that Wendy couldn’t survive without her.” That was the most common psychological profile when it came to mothers who killed their children and then themselves. It revolved around a fear that the children left behind couldn’t really function in a world without the parent.

The man didn’t seem to hear. Instead he began to look around frantically, heading for the first curtained bed. “Where is she? Where did they take Wendy?”

Terrance drew him away before he could frighten a patient. “To Room Four for examination.”

He indicated the room Alix and the nurses had entered. The man hurried over to it. Terrance was right behind him, wondering if the man, in his grief, was going to have to be restrained. He cut him off before he had a chance to enter the room.

“They’re doing all they can for her. If there’s even an infinitesimal chance of saving your daughter, they will. Dr. DuCane’s with her right now, and they’re sending for an internal surgeon.”

At least, he assumed they were. Terrance knew he had to keep up a steady stream of conversation to distract the man. It was the best service he could offer in this situation. He knew how to treat common ailments, but what was going on behind the closed swinging doors to his right was beyond the scope of his expertise. Surgery for him meant removing pieces of glass from a cut or stitching up a simple wound.

Cushioned fall or not, the little girl they had just brought in was going to need some serious surgery—and someone who was up on what they were doing. That left him out.

Terrance thought of the lounge where patients’ family members waited for the results of operations. He’d passed it on his way in this morning. “Why don’t I take you someplace where you can sit down and—”

But the man shook off the hand that Terrance placed on his arm. “I don’t want to sit. I want to be right here. Right here,” he repeated numbly, “in case they need me.”

Angling around Terrance, he tried to get a better look through the windowed portion of the swinging doors. There was a ring of people around the table. He could make out the small form on the gurney.

“She’s so little,” he sobbed.

“Somehow they mend quicker when they are.” Terrance knew he was mouthing every platitude he could think of, but he needed to calm the man down. “She’s going to be all right.”

He saw the head nurse he’d met only minutes ago looking in his direction. He could tell by her expression that she’d overheard him. Wanda shook her head. His earlier training reminded him that he was violating a cardinal rule at the hospital: you never made promises you couldn’t keep.

But he knew how important it was to hand out hope, to offer it at least for a moment. Because he’d been on the other side of the operating room doors once himself, when his father had been the one the medical team were working over.

Small bits of precious hope, however unfounded, had kept him functioning and sane, had enabled him to keep his mother’s spirits up. And, eventually, had helped him cope with his father’s death.

It was the least he could do for the man who looked as if his whole world had shattered right before his eyes. The least and the most.

Down the corridor he saw Wanda waving to the orderlies who were taking the woman’s body away. He thought of directing the man’s attention to that, then decided against it. Instead, he stayed beside the father, whose eyes remained fixed on the activity around his daughter’s table.

“She’ll be all right,” Terrance repeated and prayed that Alix wouldn’t make him a liar.

Chapter 3

“Doctor, why don’t you go on in there now?”

Unnoticed—a remarkable feat considering her size—Wanda had come up behind Terrance and the little girl’s distraught father as they stood outside the examination room.

“I’ll take care of Mr.—” Wanda paused as she looked at the man. Her eyes were filled with understanding and compassion.

“Carey,” the man mumbled without seeming to be aware that he had said anything. He leaned his fisted hands against the upper portion of the exam room door, as if to somehow brace himself and help ward off the very worst.

“I’ll take care of Mr. Carey,” Wanda repeated, slipping a comforting arm around his shoulders. Though the man was taller than she, he seemed vulnerable and smaller. The events of the morning had diminished him.

Wanda glanced over her shoulder toward Terrance when he made no attempt to move. She made a slight movement of her brows, narrowing them quizzically, as she led Carey away to the lounge.

Terrance had no choice. Unless he wanted to arouse the head nurse’s suspicions, he had to go into the exam room. Feeling incredibly out of place, he pushed open the swinging door and entered.

The instant he did, a wall of noise and chaos reached out and grabbed him, sucking him into its midst.

Alix glanced up in his direction. There were tubes running into the little girl’s mouth and attached to both her arms. The readings didn’t look promising, but at least there was still activity going on.

“Nice of you to join us, Doctor,” she noted coolly. Several of the nurses exchanged glances. They weren’t used to Alix being anything other than warm and friendly. “Where have you been?”

“With her father.” Terrance’s answer was lost in the shuffle of people as behind him, another man entered the room.

“You called for a miracle worker?”

Terrance turned and saw the man who’d been sitting beside Alix in the meeting join the fray. Despite the obvious circumstances, the latter smiled warmly at her.

“You got that right,” Alix said. It was beginning to look to Alix as if the little girl might need more than just one doctor to help her make it. Alix rattled off a capsulized version of what had happened. “Mother jumped from the roof of the courthouse, taking her daughter with her.” It never did any good to try to distance herself from her cases. Her heart was too big to allow it, even though it cost her emotionally. “She’s got all sorts of internal damage going on, but she’s hanging in there. She’s a fighter.” Alix brushed the bangs away from the girl’s forehead. “Poor little thing.”

“Wendy,” Terrance said. Alix looked up at him sharply. “Her father said her name’s Wendy.”

“Well, she certainly wasn’t meant to fly, at least not without Peter Pan,” Reese commented, looking toward the closest nurse. “Call up to the O.R. and tell them to get a room ready immediately, Donna. Then page Dr. Owlsey. I have a feeling I’m going to need all the help I can get here.” As the nurse ran to the wall phone, Reese looked at Alix. The orderly beside him was taking the brakes off the bed, mobilizing it for the trip to the elevator. “Want to come along?”

Alix shook her head. She knew she’d be of more use down here. “I’ll only get in your way. I’ll stop by later to see how she’s doing.” She smiled at him. “I’ve got faith in you, Reese.”

Terrance tried not to remember when that smile had been his alone to absorb. He clamped down on any extraneous feelings that threatened to seep through. Like the lady had said, the past was the past. There was no use in going there.

“Good to know,” Reese quipped. He looked at Terrance as he hurried beside the bed from the exam room. “Reese Bendenetti, internal surgery.”

“Nice to meet you,” Terrance called after the man. Reese, the bed and the two nurses and one orderly with him disappeared around the corner.

Terrance blew out a breath, realizing that he’d been in the midst of an adrenaline rush without knowing it. Ordinarily when he experienced one there were guns involved. And usually a drug bust.

With one drama now beyond her control, Alix turned toward Terrance, annoyance etched into her expression. “Where the hell were you?” she demanded. Shedding the yellow gown, she shoved it into a trash basket, her eyes blazing. “You were supposed to be in there with me.”

“I was.”

Typical. He was playing with words. Just as he always had. “From the beginning, Doctor.”

She was swiping at him. He figured he owed this to her. “I already told you. I was outside, comforting the father.”

Alix pressed her lips together to keep back choice comments. She’d never felt so out of control, so unsettled. “We have nurses for that.”

“I know,” he replied quietly, refusing to be drawn into an argument. “Wanda took him over. But at the time, it seemed like the thing to do.” Maybe if he complimented her, she’d back off. “Besides, you seemed to be on top of it.”

She never felt on top of it. She always felt that there was a little more she could do, even as her patients were pulling through. There was always the nagging concern that something had been overlooked, that her efforts weren’t enough.

But part of her success, part of the reason her patients did so well and their parents always returned to her, was that she knew how to make it seem as if she was on top of a situation. She knew how to make them think that she had all the answers even before the questions were formed. Knew how to make them feel confident.

She wished she could say the same for herself. It was all a ruse. She supposed that gave her something in common with magicians and actors.

“That’s no excuse,” she told him tersely. “You’re here to assist and learn our way of doing things.” She fisted her hands at her waist as she looked up at him. He was a good ten inches taller. “Or don’t you think you need to?”