“I know that part. I sit with her every minute of every day. What I want to know is why now? What is happening to her?”
He closed the chart. “I don’t know,” he admitted, leading Fay into the hallway. “There are several possible causes. She could have an infection, she could have caught a virus or her body could be reacting to the burns.”
“But it’s been nearly a month since the accident.”
Fay Riley had no idea what her daughter had been through, he thought grimly. No matter that she’d stayed faithfully, had watched her suffer, had done her best to make things better. She couldn’t understand the depth of the damage, the incredible strain the injury put on the rest of the body.
He thought about explaining. There were technical words he could use, pictures he could show. But to what end? She would still be a frightened mother, dealing with a very sick child.
“I think it’s unlikely she has a virus. We’ll check for infection, but I don’t think it’s that, either. The healing process for what Kalinda is going through is massive. If we use the example of having to climb Mount Everest, then Kalinda has barely started on the plane trip taking her to Nepal.”
The woman stared at him. Her color drained as her eyes widened. “Are you saying she could still die?”
The truth was, she could die, he thought, but he wasn’t going to say that. Still, Fay must have guessed. Tears filled her eyes as she covered her mouth. Then she bent slightly and gave in to the sobs.
“I can’t lose her,” she gasped. “Not after all this. You have to save her.”
“We’re keeping her comfortable, helping as best we can. It’s up to her.”
Fay straightened and glared at him. “She’s only a little girl.”
“I know.”
He knew more than she gave him credit for. He’d been where Kalinda was now—suffering, close to death.
Fay continued to cry. He shifted uncomfortably, wanting to excuse himself.
“Maybe we should speak later,” he began.
She nodded and turned away.
He took a few steps toward the nurses’ station, then glanced back. Fay stood in front of the door to her daughter’s room, her arms wrapped around herself, her body still shaking from the sobs.
He’d faced situations like this before and usually found it easier on everyone if he simply walked away. Getting involved only complicated an already difficult process. Still, he found himself walking toward her, then pulling her around to face him.
“I’m sorry,” he told her.
She nodded once, then went into his arms.
He held her while she cried, knowing he had very little else to offer.
After a few minutes, the tears stopped.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, stepping back and wiping her face.
“Don’t be. You’re dealing with a lot.” He hesitated. “I really am doing my best to save her.”
“I know.” She swallowed. “I should get back to her.”
“I’ll be by in a few hours. If anything changes, have me paged.”
“I will. Thank you.”
He watched her go, then started down the hallway.
Kalinda needed more surgeries. The problem was he couldn’t do anything until she was stronger. The fever would leave her even more weak.
His time in town was limited. The way things were going, he would be lucky to operate on her twice before he had to go. She was facing dozens more procedures. Which meant someone else would be seeing her through the next few years.
Usually he didn’t mind if other physicians finished what he’d started, but something about Kalinda made the situation different. Maybe it was because she talked about wanting to be a doctor, like him. He could tell that her injury had already had a profound effect on the way she viewed herself and her future.
“Let it go,” he told himself as he checked his messages.
An hour later he was back in his office. There was no Cece to greet him. Montana had left a note saying she was taking the dog to a nursing home that day.
He found himself missing the small crate in the corner and the wildly excited greeting whenever the dog saw him. He’d never been much of a dog person, but Cece was changing his mind.
He buried himself in paperwork, catching up on his charting and scanning a couple of journal articles. Just before lunch, he heard a knock on his door.
“Come in.”
He knew better than to expect Montana, but he was still disappointed when a tall, well dressed woman entered his office.
“Dr. Bradley,” she said with a smile.
“Dr. Duval.”
The hospital administrator was one of those frighteningly efficient women who managed to get her point across with a single lift of her eyebrow.
“How are you enjoying your time here in Fool’s Gold?” she asked, taking the chair across from his.
“Everyone has been very friendly and cooperative.”
“That’s the kind of town we are.” She glanced toward the corner where the dog crate was kept. “I see Cece isn’t with us today.”