OFF DUTY
By Sawyer Bennett
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright (c) 2015 by Sawyer Bennett Published by Big Dog Books
ISBN: 978-1-940883-35-9
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
To Denise Sprung at Shh Mom's Reading... for being a great friend, an amazing supporter, and helping me to talk through the idea for this book. Oh, and for sending me pictures of Henrik Lundqvist.
#LoveIsLove
Chapter 1
Tim
"What's on your agenda today?" Denise asks me as I look out her kitchen window to the backyard.
Turning to face my sister, I see her holding out a cup of coffee toward me. I accept it gratefully with a smile. "Thought I'd take Sam over to the Audobon Zoo... spend the day there."
"He'll love it," she says, leaning her hip against the counter and sipping at her own coffee. "I thought we'd go out for dinner tonight. I should be home around six."
"Sounds like a plan," I say with a smile, turning my head back toward the window to watch Sam running around the backyard with Denise's golden retriever, Scout. Even though the window is closed, I can hear his excited, five-year-old giggle as Scout whines at him to throw the ball in his hand.
Denise comes up to stand beside me, gazing out the window. "That boy needs a dog."
"Easy for you to say... living here in the 'burbs of New Orleans," I tell her with a wry grin. "They don't work so well in an apartment in Brooklyn."
"Maybe a little dog," she muses. "One of those ones you can put in your backpack or something."
"Don't you even dare suggest that in front of Sam," I warn, bumping her shoulder with my own. "I'll never hear the end of it."
Laughing, Denise pours the rest of her coffee down the drain and sets the cup in the sink. She leans over and gives me a kiss on my cheek. "I've got your back, little brother."
My arm wraps around her waist and I pull her in close, giving her a kiss back on her temple. "It's good to be here, Denise. Thanks for having us."
"My pleasure, babe," she says as she pulls away and grabs her purse from the kitchen table. "You and Sam are welcome to visit me anytime... you know that, right?"
"That I do," I say as I turn away from the window and head toward her sliding glass door, which leads onto the back patio. Opening it up, I call out, "Sam... come on in and get some breakfast."
As is typical of a boy in the midst of playing with a rambunctious dog, he promptly ignores me. I watch for a few moments as he throws the ball and Scout bounds after it. Sam bends over, slaps his hands on his thighs, and calls, "Come on, boy. Bring me the ball."
Smiling to myself, I put on my sterner parent voice and call out again, "Sam... inside... now."
His head swivels my way, and it never fails to amaze me how my child can look more beautiful--more angelic--with every passing moment. He inherited his mocha-colored skin from me but got his mom's hazel green eyes, a combination that I bet will have all the girls chasing him when he gets older.
Sam throws the ball one more time and then starts trotting toward me. He gives me a grin as he steps onto the patio, showing the large gap where one of his baby teeth fell out just a week ago on the top. The one beside it is loose, and he takes great pleasure in showing me how he can wiggle it back and forth. As a firefighter for the New York Fire Department, I've seen some nasty shit in my work, but for some reason, loose teeth wig me out completely.
"Aunt Denise," Sam says as he pushes past me and barrels into the kitchen. "Can we take Scout home with us after our vacation?"
Denise shoots me a look that says, I told you so, but then leans over to rub the top of Sam's head. "Sorry, baby. But I'd be too lonely without Scout. He has to stay here with me."
Sam's mouth turns downward in extreme disappointment, only to turn right back up into a grin. His eyes light up brightly with an idea, and he turns to me. "Dad... we should get a dog like Scout when we go back home. Can we? Huh, can we get a dog?"
Denise starts laughing as she heads toward the front door. Calling over her shoulder, she says, "See you tonight at six. You two have fun today."
I reach into the cabinet and pull out a bowl, which I place on the table. "Sit," I tell Sam as I point to the chair.
"So, can we, Dad?" he asks again as he plops down. I busy myself with getting out the cereal and milk, using that as my excuse to ignore him.
Sam doesn't seem to catch on that I'm trying to avoid this conversation, and he continues chattering as I pour him a bowl of Fruit Loops. "A dog would be so cool. I want one just like Scout, except we couldn't name it Scout. Maybe I'd call him Ranger... or Pete... or maybe even Sweet Foxy Brown."
I roll my eyes, because out of the mouths of babes and all that. "No dog, buddy. You know we don't have room in my apartment, and besides... who would take care of it when you were staying with your mom?"
"I'd take the dog with me to Mom's when it was my time to stay with her," he says, completely nonplussed.
"Yeah... if you think I'm dead set against a dog, just wait until you try to ask your mom for one. I can tell you, without a doubt, that she'll say no."
"She'll say yes," he says confidently, and then shovels a huge scoop of cereal in his mouth.
While he's chewing, I take the opportunity to lean in, kiss him on the head, and say, "Sorry, little man. It's just not something we can do right now. Not with you splitting time between me and Mom's, and I only have an apartment."
Sam's mouth chews fervently, trying to get the food swallowed so he can argue with me. I take the opportunity to escape. "Finish your cereal, and then get dressed. I'm going to go take a quick shower."
His brows slanting angrily inward, Sam swallows his cereal and glares at me. Giving a sigh, I head back toward the guest bedroom of Denise's house where Sam and I are sharing a bed. This is the second year in a row that we've come to New Orleans for our summer vacation, taking advantage of the free room with my sister and the variety of attractions available in NOLA. Denise has been in New Orleans for the last six years, having followed a man down here, who turned out to be of the asshole variety. He left to go back to New York, but my big sis loved it down here and decided to make this her new home.
Denise is all the family I have left, our parents having died in a train derailment a few years ago when they were actually traveling from our home city of Brooklyn down to New Orleans to visit Denise. Since then, it's just seems the right thing to do to come down and visit so we can have some quality time together.
Just as I start to reach into my suitcase for some clean clothes, my cell phone buzzes with a text. I slip it out of my pocket and tap the Text icon.
How is vacation? Things are boring here without you.
I smile. Nothing like a text from my best buddy and co-worker, Flynn Caldwell. We've been through thick and thin together since starting together at the NYFD, and he's about the closest thing I have to a brother. D
oesn't matter that his skin is white and mine's black. We're still super tight.
I'm sure Rowan is keeping you plenty occupied, I text back.
Yeah... setting fire between the sheets, he immediately replies.
I snicker, because that's true enough. Flynn and Rowan can barely keep their hands off each other. I start to text back a witty, if not crude, reply when I hear Sam shrieking from the backyard.
"D-a-a-a-d-d-y!"
Fear and adrenaline surge through me as I recognize pain and terror in Sam's voice. The phone drops from my hand and I bolt out of the bedroom, catching my shoulder on the doorjamb. Tearing down the hall, I fly into the kitchen, scramble around the table, and fling the sliding glass door open.
Sam is running across the yard toward me, clutching one hand to his chest. Tears are pouring down his face. Scout trots behind him, looking worried as only golden retrievers can.
I sprint toward him, dropping to my knees in the grass and opening my arms up. "What's wrong? What happened?"
Sucking in a deep breath, which stutters through his tears, he wails, "I was chasing after Scout, and I tripped and fell. My hand hurts real bad."
"It's okay, buddy," I say soothingly, my heart starting to calm now that I can see he's basically okay. "Let me take a look."
Carefully, I pull his hand away from his chest. His small whimper of pain slices through me deep. Immediately, I see the top of his right hand is swelling badly, and I suspect he might have a fracture.
With one hand, I cup him around the back of his head and pull him in. Giving him a kiss on his forehead, I tell him, "It's going to be okay, Sammy. Looks like you may have broken something inside your hand, and I'm going to have to take you to the hospital."
"It hurts," Sammy says with a sniffle.
Standing up from the ground, I commiserate as I take him by the shoulder and lead him back toward the house. "I know, buddy. But they'll make it feel all better at the hospital. I promise."
Chapter 2
Holly
"Dr. Reynolds... there's an open femur fracture coming in on Bay One. Multi-car accident with other victims coming behind. Dr. Falter asked if you could triage that, but he'll handle the surgery since you're getting off duty."
Glancing at my watch, I take quick note that I was supposed to have finished my night shift forty minutes ago. Yet here I still am, at nine AM, slogging through cases at Tulane Medical Center.
"Sure," I mumble as I start heading toward the ambulance bay.
"Oh, and Dr. Reynolds?" the nurse calls again. I turn to face her and try to put a cheery look on my face.
"Don't forget about the suspected metacarpal fracture in Room Two. It's a pediatrics case," she says with a stern look as she hands the chart over to me.
"Shit," I mutter as I take the file. I had completely forgotten, having got wrapped up in a stabilizing a fractured C5 on a drunk driver who decided to take on a telephone pole. Glancing through the chart, I hand it back to her. "Let's go ahead and send him down to x-ray and get a two-view lateral and oblique, but first start an IV and give him two mgs of morphine for pain relief. I'll be in as soon as I examine the femur fracture coming in."
For the next thirty minutes, I work to examine the man brought in with the broken leg. Of course, he was high on some type of drugs and combative. All of my tender ministrations only earned me his fist to the side of my temple while I was trying to probe the wound. More of my precious time was wasted as I waited for security to put him in restraints so I could finish my exam. It was with much joy that I handed him off to Dr. Falter.
Before I'm able to turn my attention to the little boy in ER Room Two, I make a quick stop in the bathroom because I'm pretty sure it has been going on five hours since I'd last peed. After my bladder sighs with relief, I wash my hands and give a disgusted look at myself in the mirror as I dry my hands. My face is pale with blue shadows under my eyes... testament to the fact I haven't slept in going on twenty-seven hours. My blond hair is falling out of the loose braid that hangs down my back, so I give it a quick swipe of my fingers to tuck the loose ends behind my ear, and then I quickly exit the bathroom.
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 promis
e, 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.
Clearing my throat, I turn to the sink beside the computer terminal and wash my hands again. "I'm going to do a quick examination. I don't expect I'll find anything else to change my diagnosis, and then we'll get you all bandaged up so you can get home."
Amy pulls the splint and wrap out of a supply cabinet and lays the materials on a metal cart beside the bed. I step up to the side that Tim is standing on, and he quickly moves back to give me room. I shoot him a small smile and don't get one in return, his eyes darting away quickly to rest on Sam.
"Sam... I'm going to look at your hand. It might hurt a little but don't be afraid to tell me when it does. I want to make sure nothing else is damaged that I can't see on the x-rays, okay?"