She glanced around her. Everyone seemed to be scurrying as fast as possible. Haggard-looking parents held on to tired and cranky children as they rushed to make their flights. As she scanned the crowd her eyes focused on a tall, handsome man moving in her direction. Although he was definitely not her type, he was striking nonetheless. She had always thought of herself as a good judge of people, and she judged him to be a California beach bum. He certainly looked like it. He was all muscles, with lean, handsome features that were framed by tousled, wavy brown hair. He had a deep tan and at least a two-day beard growth. He was wearing a bright tropical shirt, jeans, and sneakers and carrying a large red backpack over his shoulders. Kim knew the type. The, "Hey ladies, look at me" type. Handsome and aware of it. His only concern was the height of the waves.
She watched as he walked up to the gate and began to speak to the attendant. He pulled out a ticket and showed it to her. It was obvious that he was not confirming his seat, but was asking her a question about the flight.
The other gate attendant began to board the flight. Concerned, Kim grabbed her luggage and began to move forward, just as the man pulled out his wallet and flashed the gate attendant what appeared to be ID. Kim stepped up to the ticket counter and interrupted. "Excuse me," she said, sensing disaster. "Can you tell me when you'll announce the names of the wait-listed passengers that can board?"
The attendant didn't even look up from her computer screen. "I'm sorry, ma'am. There's only room for one waitlisted passenger. And that would be this gentleman right here."
"What?! But I was here first," Kim said, trying desperately to remain calm. "He just got here!"
"Look," the man said quietly to Kim. "I can explain."
"This is not fair," Kim said, tears welling in her eyes. "I've been waiting here for two hours, and you're letting some guy just bump me right off?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the attendant said insincerely. "It's not up to me. He was priority-ranked."
"Please. Just let me explain…" the man began.
"Priority-ranked?" Kim said incredibly. "What kind of a system is this?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am," she repeated simply as she handed the man his boarding pass. "It's out of my hands. I'll be happy to book you on a flight leaving first thing in the morning."'
"Please," the man said calmly to Kim. "I can explain…" he began.
"You don't understand!" Kim interrupted, as the tears began to flow. "My father is very sick. He's in the hospital… intensive care. Tomorrow morning may be too late."
The gate attendant rolled her eyes as though she had heard it all before. Sick aunt, sick grandpa, sick dog, sick dad. It made no difference to her. It was the busiest travel day of the year, and Kim wasn't getting on that flight
Kim glanced back at the man with the seat assignment. She may have lost the gate attendant's sympathy, but it looked as if she still had the man's attention. "We're very close, my father and I," she explained, lowering her voice but keeping the intensity. "He's on his deathbed. If something happens to him before I get there, I don't know if I could live with myself." Hmm. Well at least part of it was true. The part about him being her father.
The final boarding call was made, and the man glanced down at his ticket.
"Please," Kim said. "He could die before I get there." Okay, now she was really upset.
The man glanced toward the boarding gate. He looked at Kim as if evaluating her for truthfulness. He sighed. "Here," he said, handing her his ticket. "Go ahead."
Kim glanced down at the boarding pass. It was issued to an A. Hoffman. She smiled at him appreciatively. "Thank you, Mr. Hoffman. Thank you so much."
"Good luck," he said matter-of-factly.
Kim held her Styrofoam cup of thick black coffee in her hands as she glanced around the critical care waiting room. It was quite a bit more comfortable than the emergency waiting room, with clusters of well-worn, plump beige couches and chairs, and a small kitchen area.
At ten o'clock in the evening, the waiting room was practically deserted. In fact, only one family remained in the room with her, anxiously awaiting news of their loved one. The parents sat on the couch, holding hands as they stared blankly at a large TV screen. Two girls, sisters, Kim guessed, sat on the floor beneath their parents, working on a jigsaw puzzle that they had spilled out onto the coffee table.
Kim glanced up at the TV. The sound was turned down so low she couldn't even hear it, but the images were familiar enough that she didn't need any sound. In an advertisement for a local car dealership, a man whom she presumed to be the owner of the dealership was dressed up like Santa, pointing his finger and chatting at the camera. She had no doubt he was promising great prices this holiday season.
"Excuse me, Kim?"
A man with silvery white hair and a long doctor's coat stood in front of her. Kim jumped up, almost spilling her coffee.
"I spoke to you on the phone. I'm Dr. Harkavey, your father's cardiologist."
"Hi," Kim said, not certain which questions to ask first.
"I've met you before, when you were about this big," he said, raising his hand to his waist "You probably don't remember."
Kim squinted as though trying to recall.
"Why don't you set that down," he said, motioning toward her coffee. "Let's take a walk."
Still silent, Kim set her coffee down on the counter. She glanced over at the family, who were staring at her sympathetically. She flashed them a brave smile before following the doctor out into the hall.
"What's going on?" she said. "They wouldn't let me see him."
"I know. I'm sorry about that. They're just trying to be extra carefuL You're father's an important man around here." Kim knew that. She also guessed that her father was an unpopular man around there. He had never been an easy man to please, at home or at the office.
"But why can't I go in?"
"They're worried about infection. His system is very weak right now. But I think it'll be all right if you want to see him for a moment. We won't stay very long."
"But is he… will he be all right?"
"Well," he said carefully. "We were lucky. He was here when he had his heart attack so he was able to get medical attention immediately, which probably saved his life. However, he's got a serious problem with his mitral valve, as well as several of the arteries that lead to the heart. But we've assigned one of the top thoracic surgeons in the country to your father. As soon as your dad is stable, we're going to go ahead and operate… replace the mitral valve and unclog the arteries. Assuming," he said, pushing open a set of swinging doors as he checked his watch, "the surgeon has arrived by then."
They stopped at the nurse's station at the end of the corridor. "This is Kim Risson, Dr. Risson's daughter," Dr. Harkavey said to the nurse behind the desk. "I'm going to take her in for a few minutes." The nurse nodded as she flashed Kim a sympathetic glance. "Here, Kim," he said, handing her a mask. "Why don't you put this on."
Kim slipped the mask over her face.
"I have to warn you, your father won't be conscious. He's heavily sedated, and he's intubated as well," he said, leading Kim down the chilly, antiseptic white hall. He stopped at a door at the end of the hall and pushed it open.
Kim hesitated in the doorway. She felt an eerie sense of numbness overtake her as she slowly stepped inside the room, her eyes focusing on the form in the bed. This couldn't be her father. The man under the covers looked much smaller than her dad. Much older.
She stepped closer. There were tubes everywhere, coming out of her father's nose, his mouth, and his arm. This was not the strong, handsome, intimidating man she remembered. This man looked frail and weak. Helpless.
Kim was seized with a sudden, intense sense of impending loss. Until now, everything had seemed so surreal, almost as if she were having some sort of vivid dream. But now, for the first time in fifteen years, she was standing in front of her father, the man she had for so long held responsible for much of her pain and suffering. And surprisingly e
nough, she no longer felt any anger toward him. All she felt was love. Regardless of how he felt about her, he was her father, her only family, and she needed him to get well. "Dad," she said quietly. "Dad, it's me. It's Kim. You're going to be okay." Her father lay still. Kim doubted that he had even heard her. She glanced back at Dr. Harkavey, and he nodded encouragement
"Dad, I'm going to stay here with you. We're going to get through this. You're going to get better. Okay?" She picked up his lifeless hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
She felt a touch on her arm. Dr. Harkavey gently steered her out into the hall, shutting the door behind them. "I know it means a lot to him to have you here, Kim."
Kim pulled off her mask. The top of it was wet.
"Here," Dr. Harkavey said, handing her a tissue.
Kim touched her fingers to her cheek. No wonder the mask was wet. She was crying.
"Can I get you a glass of water? Some coffee?" Dr. Harkavey asked.
Kim shook her head. What a nice man he was. With a decent beard he could even pose as Santa.
Like a kindly grandfather, Dr. Harkavey took her arm and steered her back toward the waiting room. "If you like, I'll ask the surgeon to stop by when he arrives. He can answer any questions you have about the procedure."
"Yes," she said, nodding, as they paused outside the waiting room door. "Thank you. When is he going to get here?"
He glanced at his watch. "When he called he was in Toledo, and that was about two hours ago." Which would mean he should arrive at any minute. "He would've been here sooner," he continued, "but he was vacationing in the Caribbean this morning. He interrupted his vacation to come back here and take care of your father. Apparently he had some trouble with his flights. I haven't talked to him, but somebody said he got bumped from one of his connections, so he had to rent a car to get back here."
For some strange reason Kim had a sudden sense of dread. Just tired, she told herself. Tired and stressed. "Where did he have to drive from?"
"Pittsburgh or something."
"What's his name?" Kim asked hoarsely.
"Hoffman. Dr. Anthony Hoffman."
* * *
Chapter Three
Kim sat still on the couch, her back stiff, her forehead creased with worry. The TV was off and the only light, a floor lamp beside the couch, cast an eerie glow about the room. It was almost eleven o'clock, and she had not yet seen Dr. Anthony Hoffman. She stood up and walked over to the glass windows that separated the waiting room from the hall, anxiously awaiting his arrival. She gently rested her fingertips on the pane of glass as she leaned forward, stretching her neck to look down the hall. Please, she thought, praying for the arrival of the doctor. Please hurry.
She walked back to the couch and forced herself to sit back down. She stared at the half-finished puzzle in front of her. She could understand why they kept a hearty supply of jigsaw puzzles in this room. They were just about the only thing you could do when your entire body was consumed with a mind-numbing pain.
"Kim?"
Kim glanced up. Dr. Harkavey stood in the doorway. Beside him stood the same man she had met earlier that day. The only difference was that he had traded in his jeans and luau shirt for hospital-issue blue scrubs. It looked like he hadn't even had time to go home to shave.
"This is Dr. Hoffman. He's in charge of your father's heart surgery."
Kim nodded, waiting for him to say, Hey! You're the girl who gave me that sorry song and dance and swiped my ticket.
"Hi, Kim," he said instead, shaking her hand. "I'm Tony Hoffman. I thought you might have some questions."
Tony, she thought, focusing on how he had introduced himself. She preferred calling her doctors "doctor." But still, she was appreciative that he had not mentioned their earlier meeting. At least, he hadn't mentioned it yet. "Thank you… thank you for interrupting your vacation____"
"Of course," he said, letting her off the hook. Both he and Dr. Harkavey looked at her, as if waiting for her questions. "Um," she said. Her mind was a blank. "How long do you think the operation will be?"
"About seven hours. We have to take the heart out, stop it, and fix the problems and put it back."
"You have to stop the heart?" Kim said, looking worriedly at Dr. Harkavey.
He nodded. "The blood will be pumped mechanically." Tony smiled at her encouragingly before checking his watch. After a brief, empty pause, he said, "If you don't have any more questions, I should get going."
Kim nodded, still finding it difficult to believe that this was the same man she had met in the airport. He may be one of the best heart surgeons in the country, but he certainly didn't look the part.
"Yovu father's going to be just fine," Tony said, as if sensing that she needed to be reassured.
She felt as though she couldn't breathe. She must have looked ill, because Tony said, "There are rooms here if you'd like to lie down."
She shook her head. "I'll wait here."
"All right," Tony said, with a quick nod of his head. "I'll come back and see you when we're finished."
After he bad left the room Kim glanced up at Dr. Harkavey. "He's not quite what I expected," she admitted.
He smiled as he said, "He's a little unconventional, but he's one of the best in the country, if not the best"
Kim nodded. She must not have looked convinced because he then added, "I promise you."
Kim paced the floors, checking her watch every five minutes. She made several quick trips to the coffee machine, although she didn't need any help staying awake. Every time anyone walked past the waiting room, she jumped, certain that it was someone with news for her. Bad news.
She forced herself to focus on the jigsaw puzzles. At four-thirty in the morning she was on her fifth cup when she heard someone say her name. She looked up. Dr. Hoffman stood in the doorway. Fearful of what he might say, Kim felt her body go rigid. He stepped inside the room and sat down next to her. "Everything went well," he said. "Your father did just fine."
Kim breathed a sigh of relief as the tears began to flow. "Thank you."
"He's resting now. I think you'll be able to see him tomorrow morning, if you like."
Kim nodded, delicately wiping her face with her forefinger. "I was so worried," she said. "When I found out that I was the reason you weren't here on time…"
"It didn't make any difference," he said quietly. "Don't torture yourself. You were right. You should have been here with him. There was nothing I could do until he stabilized, and he didn't stabilize until after you arrived. I think you were responsible. Your being here gave him the strength he needed."
Kim's tears slowed. "Really? He wasn't even awake when I saw him."
He nodded. "He may not have been awake, but I'm sure he sensed your presence. So it was perfect timing. Because by the time I arrived we were ready to begin surgery." He smiled again. It was a nice smile. A reassuring smile.
"Well, in any case, I'm sorry."
"You shouldn't be." He smiled at her. Kim stared into his hazy green eyes. One could forget one's troubles staring into eyes like that. "Why don't I show you where the rooms for families of critical care patients are," he continued. "They're in a building next to the hospital. You can get some sleep."
She shook her head. "No," she said adamantly. "I want to stay here."
He nodded. "That's fine, too." He smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow."
What a thoughtful man, Kim thought silently, as she watched him walk out of the waiting room. He seemed to honestly care, not only about her father but about her comfort as well.
Kim drifted toward the couch and prepared to settle in for the night. She glanced around the empty room and recalled her first meeting with her father's surgeon. She appreciated his not mentioning her "little outburst" at the airport in front of Dr. Harkavey. Instead, he had been sweet and kind, reassuring her that she shouldn't feel guilty for her actions—despite the inconvenience she had caused.
Kim smiled as she remembered what
she had said to Barbara about surgeons only hours earlier. And now it appeared, sitting alone in a waiting room miles away from her life in Florida, doctors were her only friends. Maybe… just maybe, she had been wrong about the type of men and women who went into this intense, high-pressure career. Perhaps they weren't all like her father.
At the thought of her father, Kim lay down on the couch, brushing away a tear as hours of delayed fatigue washed over her. She pulled her sweater around her shoulders, using it as a blanket. Within moments she was asleep.
Tony took a sip of black coffee as he waited for the elevator. He glanced over at the clock on the wall. Five-thirty. It was already morning.
It was hard to believe that twenty-four hours ago he was asleep with his window open in the balmy Bahamas. It had been his first vacation in years. And it had lasted exactly two days.
It had been difficult for Tony to go on vacation in the first place, mainly because he knew he would be traveling alone. He was not dating anyone whom he cared enough about to share his valuable vacation days. In fact, he had recently resigned himself to the solitary life of a confirmed bachelor, a life filled with first dates and casual relationships. He had not yet met any woman who had captured his heart, and he had promised himself that he would not settle for anything less. He had learned his lesson in his last painful breakup, with the woman he had been involved with for six years. They had both sensed that they were not right for each other from the beginning of the relationship, yet that had not made the demise of their relationship any less painful.
He squinted his eyes as though trying to squeeze out the fatigue. He had to exorcise the Bahamas from his mind. He had been given one of the most important cases of his career. He couldn't afford to be tired. He had his boss and his nemesis under his care: Dr. Harold Risson.