Chapter Twelve
Days melted into weeks as Megan immersed herself in her clinicals. Every day she found a new challenge to conquer. She hadn’t imagined how hard it would be, or how exhausted she would be most nights when she crawled into bed. But it was a thrilling exhaustion because she was doing what she felt like she was called to do.
Each day, she spent more and more time with Pesh. She loved working beside him on cases. He had the best bedside manner of all the residents and interns. Patients, both young and old, adored him. And the more she was with him, the more Megan began to adore him as well.
She had just left an examining room where he had charmed a little boy into finally letting them run the tests they needed when Kristi beckoned her from down the hall. After hustling to join Kristi, Megan was quickly ushered inside one of the trauma rooms. Immediately, her entire body switched gears as she prepared herself for what she might face.
“Female, thirty, car accident,” the paramedic began before rattling off her vitals and other information. After Megan had absorbed the information, she turned to the patient. “Hi, I’m Megan. I’m going to get your IV started.”
The woman gave Megan a weak smile. “I’m Mary.”
“I guess it would be wrong to say it’s nice to meet you, huh?” Megan said, trying to talk as normally as she could to put the patient at ease.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Mary replied.
When Megan reached for Mary’s arm to find a place for the needle, Mary winced. “Ouch.”
As Megan surveyed the forearm, she shook her head. “Looks like you’ve got a break there.”
“My arm is broken?” Mary asked in a panic.
“We won’t know until we get you into X-ray. I’m going to try this vein here in your wrist.” The needle slipped easily into the vein, and Megan started the IV.
Pesh appeared in the doorway then. He smiled at Mary on the gurney. “Hello, Mary, I’m Dr. Nadeen. I understand you had a little accident today?”
She nodded. “This car came out of nowhere and hit me head on.”
“I’m so sorry. Why don’t we start by you telling me where it hurts?”
“My chest,” she said, with a grimace.
Pesh pulled back the hospital gown. “Were you wearing your seat belt?”
“Yes, I always do.”
“From the dust in your hair, can I assume the airbag deployed?”
“Yeah, it did.”
“Is this where it hurts?” he asked, running his fingers down an angry red whelp. It started at her neck and crossed over her chest. Some of it was hidden by the many leads coming from the heart monitor.
“Yeah.”
“It looks like the seat belt and the airbag did a number on you.”
Mary winced. “I thought they were supposed to help you, not hurt you.”
Pesh smiled. “Trust me. You’re much better off with a little burn than if you hadn’t been wearing it.” After eyeing the monitors Mary was hooked up to, he turned to Megan. “Blood pressure is low. Let’s administer some blood products to raise it.”
Megan nodded. After checking Mary’s chart for her blood type, she grabbed a bag of blood from the coolers. Trading places with Pesh, she started another IV in the crook of Mary’s right elbow.
“Besides your chest, are you hurting anywhere else?” Pesh asked, after he finished listening to her heart and lungs.
“My stomach.”
Megan’s breath hitched. It was never good for a car accident patient to have stomach pains. That usually meant hemorrhaging, which could also attribute the low blood pressure.
Pressing on Mary’s abdomen, Pesh asked, “Does this hurt?”
“No.”
“Here?”
“No.”
“What about here?”
A screech came from the bed. Pesh’s brows drew with worry. “I’m going to do a quick ultrasound, Mary. I want to see what’s causing the pain.”
“Okay.”
Megan pulled the machine over to the bedside. She squirted the jelly onto Mary’s stomach, and then Pesh began running the wand over the skin.
“I’m feeling a little dizzy, too,” Mary said, in a low voice.
Pesh and Megan exchanged a quick look before he shoved the ultrasound machine back. Turning to Kristi, he said, “Call the OR. She’s got a ruptured spleen.”
After depressing the break on the gurney, Pesh swung it out of the trauma room and started down the hall. “Go with him,” Kristi instructed, as she held onto the phone.
Megan jogged down the hall to catch up with Pesh. He smacked the buttons on the elevator before glancing down at Mary. “Stay with me, okay? We’re going to get you into surgery, and then you’ll be good as new.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Without hesitation, Pesh replied, “Yes, but you have to stay with me.”
The elevator’s doors slid open. As Megan helped Pesh push the gurney inside, Mary asked, “Did you turn on more lights?”
Megan creased her brows in worry as she glanced over to Pesh. “We’re getting in the elevator to take you to the OR for surgery,” she replied.
“But it’s so bright,” Mary whispered before closing her eyes. Her head lolled to the side just as the alarms on the monitors began screeching in Megan’s ears. “Dammit, she’s crashing!” Pesh cried.
Ice-cold fear pricked its way from the top of Megan’s head all the way down her body. A patient was crashing in the elevator without the crash cart. What the hell were they supposed to do? “Lower the gurney,” Pesh ordered.
Megan’s jerky hands fumbled with the lever. Once it was flat, Pesh brought his hands to Mary’s chest and began compressions. Without having to be told, Megan leaned down, pinched Mary’s nose, and began breathing into her mouth. They worked in perfect synchronization.
“Stay with me, Mary!” Pesh barked, as his hands pumped in a manic pace up and down on Mary’s chest.
Glancing up from her breathing, Megan eyed the monitors. “No pulse.”
When Pesh didn’t respond, she continued doing breathing cycles. At the taste of something warm meeting her lips, she jerked back. Blood oozed out of Mary’s mouth. “There’s more damage than the spleen. She’s bleeding from the mouth.” Pesh didn’t even acknowledge her comment. “The seat belt and airbag could have caused an aortic tear as well. There’s nothing we can do.”
Instead, he kept right on with his compressions. The elevator doors opened, and Megan met the expectant faces of the surgical team. When one doctor stepped forward, she shook her head. “She’s gone.”
Pesh growled across from her. “No, she isn’t. We have to keep trying. Get a cart in here.”
The doctor eyed the stats on the monitors. “I don’t think it will help.”
Jerking his head up from Mary, Pesh snarled, “Get the f*cking cart!”
As one of the nurses scrambled away, two others pulled the gurney from the elevator. Megan stood back, feeling helpless as to what to do. Once the cart arrived, Pesh ripped open Mary’s gown. “Charging 260 joules.” He rubbed the paddles together. “Clear!”
Mary’s chest jolted off the gurney with the force of the electricity. Megan didn’t need to look at the monitors. The heart stayed in a flat line. “Charging 360 joules.” Megan closed her eyes when Pesh administered the second shock. “Dammit, Jade, don’t do this! Try for me!”
Megan couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped her at Pesh calling Mary by his late wife’s name. Before Pesh could do another charge, one of the surgeon’s stepped forward. After he removed his mask, he put his hand on Pesh’s back. “Calling time of death.”
Defeated, Pesh dropped his head. Slowly, he eased back from the gurney. A nurse took the paddles from him and put them back on the cart. “I’ll go notify the family,” Pesh murmured.
The surgeon shook his head and stared pointedly at Megan. “Get a resident to do that. Nadeen, you go take a breather, buddy.”
“They deserve to speak to the doctor who was with her when she died.”
“You don’t need to do this.”
Pesh slung away from the surgeon and started for the elevator. Megan knew there was no point in arguing with him or trying to get one of the residents to take his place. She didn’t know if she should try to go to him or not. She regretted her decision when he turned to face her in the elevator. His expression was agonizingly broken. As the doors closed, her heart ached for him. She knew any doctor hated to lose a patient, especially a young one, but this went far deeper than that. From his behavior, Megan knew that Mary’s death had exposed a raw nerve in Pesh—one that after two years still hadn’t healed. Somehow he had seen his wife in Mary, and once again, he wasn’t able to save her.
After she had escorted Mary’s body back upstairs to wait on the funeral home, Megan went in search of Pesh. She couldn’t find him in any of the exam rooms, nor was he in the doctors’ lounge or break room. Finally, she went to Kristi for answers. “Did you see where Dr. Nadeen went?”
Kristi gave her a sad smile. “You’ll probably find him on the roof.”
Megan’s brows shot up in surprise. “The roof?”
Kristi nodded. “Whenever he has a really bad day about his wife—” She sucked in a breath when she realized she might have said too much.
At the thought of Pesh’s grief, Megan’s chest tightened in agony. He was too good of a man to have to suffer like he did. “So he goes up to the roof?” Megan finished for Kristi.
“He likes to be alone to clear his head. Although none of us would say anything, he usually ends up pulling another shift to make up for the time he was gone.”
Of course Pesh would do something like that. He was honorable every moment of his life, even after those of immense grief. Even though she knew he probably wanted and needed to be alone, Megan wanted to check on him. She couldn’t bear the thoughts of him suffering so much.
“Um, if it’s okay, I think I’ll go ahead and take my dinner break.”
Kristi gave her a knowing look before nodding. “Sure, honey. Go right ahead.”
Megan smiled before brushing past Kristi. She bypassed the break room where her purse was. Instead, she kept going. After a brisk walk down the hall, she got to the Authorized Personnel Only stairwell. She didn’t dare use the elevator shaft where trauma patients were brought in from being airlifted. Without hesitation, Megan swiped her access card. When the lock clicked, she flung the door open and started up the flights of stairs. She was winded when she reached the top. Cautiously, her hand hovered over the doorknob. She couldn’t help wondering what she might find on the other side. Would Pesh be an emotional mess? Would he be angry that she had interrupted his private grieving? Shaking the thoughts from her head, she flung open the door.
As she stepped onto the roof, the air grew cooler. A breeze rippled her scrubs. Her gaze spun around frantically until she found him. Pesh stood at the edge of the roof. His usual ramrod straight posture was slumped, his broad shoulders drawn in. Although she couldn’t see his face, his gaze seemed fixed straight ahead into the night sky. To add insult to injury, clouds blotted out the stars, cloaking everything in darkness.
Tentatively, she started over to him. “Hey,” she said softly.
He whirled around in surprise. Her heart clenched at the sight of the tears sparkling in his eyes. Even in the darkness, she could see a blood-red flush entering his cheeks. His hands quickly came up to swipe away the moisture from his eyes. “Hello,” he finally replied in a hoarse whisper.
They stood in an awkward silence, staring each other down. Finally, Megan took a step forward to close the gap between them. “How did you know I was up here?” he asked.
“Kristi told me.”
“Hmm.”
Unable to stop herself, she reached out to touch his arm. “I’m so sorry, Pesh.”
“It isn’t necessary.”
She shook her head. “Yes, it is. You’re in pain…you’ve been in pain. I can’t help but feel sorry for what you’re going through.”
His usually warm eyes took on a cold look. “You were in that elevator, too. You have every right to be emotional. Maybe you should be more concerned with why you aren’t weeping.”
“Don’t,” she murmured.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t try to mask your pain by being someone you’re not or by pointing fingers at others. That isn’t you, and you can’t fool me.”
With a ragged sigh, Pesh jerked his hand through his dark, wavy hair. “I’m sorry. That was completely uncalled for.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s—” She silenced him by bringing her hand up to cover his lips. When she pulled her hand away, he sighed.
“Talk to me,” Megan pleaded.
The clouds above them opened up, causing a slight drizzle to fall. “The death of a patient is never easy. Any doctor of worth, or nurse for that matter, must possess compassion. Then it is inevitable that the same compassion you possess will come back to haunt you—it may even cripple you. When death comes, you can’t help feeling for the life that has been lost and for the family members left behind.” His voice choked off, and Megan drew herself even closer to him. She knew that his last statement held personal meaning for him.
“What exactly happened to your wife?” she questioned softly.
Pesh’s eyes closed. “Jade had an undiagnosed clotting condition. She was adopted, so she didn’t know anything really about her family history. She’d always been in perfect health—she rarely even went to the doctor with the sniffles. And after we’d been married for three years, we decided it was time to have a baby.”
When Pesh remained silent, Megan tentatively asked, “Did she die in childbirth?”
He shook his head. “No, we never got that far. We tried for over a year to get pregnant on our own, and it didn’t happen. So we were recommended to a fertility clinic. Once the IUI process didn’t work, we started IVF.” A ragged sigh came from deep in his chest. “The whole process was physically trying and then emotionally gutting for both of us, but especially for Jade.” He met her gaze. “She blamed herself since the testing revealed that everything was fine with me. Although we were labeled as ‘non-specific infertility,’ she felt that it was all her fault.”
“Bless her heart,” Megan murmured, as her heart went out to a woman she’d never met. Getting pregnant had been so easy for her. Although Mason wasn’t necessarily expected, he had never been unwanted in her eyes. But she knew what infertility did to a woman when she saw it ravage her father’s sister. Although her aunt was now the happy and doting mother of two adopted girls, she knew the emotional toil not getting pregnant had taken. Megan, herself, had once been the recipient of her aunt’s childless pain when she had announced her pregnancy with Mason.
Still without answers as to how Jade had died, Megan pressed Pesh for more. “So what happened with the IVF?”
“She got pregnant on the first transfer only to miscarry three weeks later. We had just been through another transfer when she died.” Pesh’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard. Megan could only imagine he was trying to keep his emotions in check. Finally, he spoke again. “She had an embolism most likely brought on by the fertility medication. I was in the kitchen making breakfast when I heard a crash in the bedroom.” Tears pooled in his eyes. “When I called her name and she didn’t answer, I ran back to her. She was crumpled on the bedroom floor. After calling 911, I did CPR over and over again, but I could never revive her.”
“Oh Pesh,” Megan murmured. The weight of his pain was so heavy that even she found it hard to breathe.
Without looking at her, he continued staring straight ahead. “From what the medical examiner said, I have some peace in knowing she didn’t suffer—that she went quickly without any fear or pain. One minute she was getting ready for work, and the next she was gone.”
“It’s true that there is some peace, especially the fact she didn’t know she was going to die. Sometimes I can’t imagine what it must be like for terminal patients.” She shuddered. “When you wonder if every day is your last, when you have to think about all you’re going to miss.”
“Yes, that is true,” he said, in a hushed whisper. When he finally turned to look at her, he gave her a sad smile. “It’s been two years. Every time I think I’ve moved on, that I’ve been able to compartmentalize my grief, a case comes through that brings me to my knees.”
“I’m so sorry,” Megan murmured, bringing her hand up to cup his cheek. He leaned his face into her hand. His head bowed until their foreheads met. “You have to remember that no matter what happened to your wife, and to Mary, it wasn’t your fault. You weren’t responsible. You need to keep living. You’re alive.” Tilting her head up, she gazed into his dark brown eyes. “You’re alive,” she repeated.
The rain began to fall harder. Her eyelids fluttered to keep the moisture out of her eyes as she gazed up at him. His mouth hovered next to hers, his breath warming her cheek. She could barely breathe in that moment. It was like every molecule in her body was pulsing with need. Silently, she pleaded with her eyes for him to kiss her.
And then, after what felt like an eternity, he slid his lips over hers. It wasn’t the first time she had kissed him—it was just the first time she was sober and had kissed him. Now her senses were heightened, and she could experience exactly what she was feeling. His lips were tender and soft at first, and then they switched over to desperate and demanding. It was like he was breathing her in with every brush of his lips and stroke of his tongue as if to prove to himself that he truly was alive. His tongue danced along hers, causing her to moan. He brought his hands up to cup her face while her arms went around his chest, pulling him closer to her.
Drops of rain pelted her head and ran down her cheeks while Pesh’s white coat grew moist as she ran her hands up and down his back. She realized, in a dizzying flurry, that no man had ever kissed her like this before. This was like lovemaking with their mouths, and she never wanted it to end.
When Pesh finally tore his lips from hers, Megan’s breaths came in heaving pants. Her eyes opened to stare up at him. His expression turned from lust to anguish. He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Pesh, you don’t—”
He held up his hand. “Please, just go.” He turned away from her, wrapping his arms around his chest. Torn, Megan didn’t know if she should argue with him and stay or leave. “Please,” he whispered.
With her heart still beating wildly from their passionate lip-lock, she turned and fled. As she pounded back down the stairs, her emotions yo-yoed to where she felt like a watch that had been wound too tight. After bursting back through the door, Kristi met her in the hallway. Her eyes widened at Megan’s appearance.
“I, uh, I went outside on my dinner break, and it started raining,” Megan lied.
“Next time you’ll have to remember your umbrella,” Kristi replied.
Megan nodded. “Yeah, I will.”
“Why don’t you go to the break room? There’s a hair dryer under the sink. When you finish drying off, I could really use you in the supply closet doing inventory. Seems like we always almost run out of everything at once.”
“Sure. I can do that.” As Megan turned to go down the hallway, Kristi reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Is he okay?”
Megan bit down on her lip to keep a hysterical laugh from escaping. Was Pesh okay? Was she okay? Who the hell knew? One minute he’d been weeping about his wife and losing a patient, and the next he’d been liquid passion dripping on her lips. Regardless of his emotional whiplash, she’d experienced the same. She now found herself wanting more of his kisses when she shouldn’t. But it wasn’t just the kiss she wanted—she wanted all of him and not just for sex.
“No, he’s not. I guess he’s just trying to accept the loss, both past and present, as best he can,” she finally replied.
Kristi nodded in acknowledgement. When Megan felt she was free from any more questioning, she hurried down the hall to the break room. Thankfully, she found it empty. After grabbing a brush from her purse, she went to the sink to grab the hair dryer. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, she looked a bedraggled mess. She was practically washed out except for her lips. They were swollen and bright red from Pesh’s kisses. Her finger came up to trace her bottom lip. As memories of his kisses filled her mind, she tried desperately to think of anything else.
In the end, she had gone up to the roof to somehow save Pesh, and instead, she had lost herself to him and his emotions.