Molly Evans - The Greek Doctor's Proposal

“Are you okay?” he asked Jeannine, and touched her arm. Her skin was soft and he pulled his hand back, resisting the urge to let his hand linger there. Touching a woman had once been something he had done often every day, but since his wife had died, the urge to reach out had faded away.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. That was just a marvelous experience. To see a case from start to finish is a fabulous opportunity. Thank you for including me.” She stood beside Roberto’s bed as the other nurses set up the monitoring equipment. “Should I return to the PICU or should I stay with Roberto?”

“I’ll call Arlene and see if I can keep you here. When Roberto’s recovered enough from the anesthesia, you can follow him back to the unit. It will be a well-rounded day for you then. He’ll need to remain intubated for a while so that the stitches can heal a bit. The sound of your voice will be a comfort for him.” The sound of her soothing voice was a small comfort to him, too, after such a long procedure. The rigors of surgery had always invigorated him until the last few years. Listening to Jeannine’s voice during the procedure had somehow prevented that fatigue from overcoming him. Perhaps her presence wasn’t a comfort to Roberto only.

“I never thought of my voice as a comfort, but I suppose it’s the familiarity of it more than anything, isn’t it?”

Jeannine touched her throat in a gesture of which she was completely unaware. Miklo followed the direction of her hand. He noticed a distinctive, tell-tale scar, and he frowned, his curiosity roused as he observed the pink tissue that hadn’t fully healed. “You are quite right. Your instincts are very good for this sort of work.”

“Will he continue to be sedated so he’s not feeling choked by the tube?”

She dropped her hand, and he examined the scar as unobtrusively as possible. It was definitely a tracheotomy scar that marred the beauty of her otherwise flawless skin. “Yes. He’ll have to stay in the PICU at least for tonight, possibly a few days, while he’s monitored.”

The look in her eyes seemed far off, as if she were looking elsewhere. Maybe she was. Who knew?And was it any of his business why she had a scar? Life was full of people who carried scars, inside and out. And he was one of them. With a mental sigh, he decided he needed something to distract himself from his thoughts. The direction they were headed wasn’t going to be helpful for anyone. Work was his life, his passion, and something he needed to keep his black emotions at bay. Indulging in self-defeating behavior wasn’t something he was going to do.

“Do you need a drink of water, or something to eat? For someone not used to surgery, it can be tough the first time.”

“A cup of coffee would be wonderful.” She flashed a smile. “And a bathroom break,” she whispered, and crossed her eyes briefly.

Miklo almost laughed at her antics. He could appreciate her position. She hadn’t had a break since she had walked in the PICU this morning. For that matter, neither had he.

“Come on. I need a cup of coffee, too.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “The canteen is open. Let’s get lunch and have a real break. Roberto will be fine for a little while.”

Since entering medicine as his father and three brothers had, he’d been focused on his career, with little time for anything else. Every beat of his heart revolved around the hospital. Time with family, stolen moments, and rare evenings off were cherished. Three years ago his family had picked him up from the most painful experience in his life. Now they seemed to have moved on, leaving him to his own devices. He knew it was his fault, but he couldn’t seem to function outside his comfort zone of the medical world. This was his life and others depended on him. That’s what he kept telling himself, what he needed to believe, or he would be on his knees from unimaginable pain and guilt. He had to believe that his time here was not wasted. That he hadn’t sacrificed his family for nothing.

A group of four nervous-looking interns dashed past them on the way out of the canteen. One of them bumped Miklo’s shoulder and brought him back to the present.

“I’ll be right back. You go ahead,” Jeannine said, and ducked into the ladies’ room. In moments she returned with a smile lighting up her face. Finely arched brows over a pair of eyes the color of the sea, her smile seemed to shine just for him, and he took a quick breath.

“You were right, I needed this more than I realized.” She filled a large disposable cup with coffee, added a little sugar and milk, stirred, then placed a lid on it. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He fixed his own cup of coffee and followed her to the grill. After obtaining their orders, they sat at a small table and ate. Miklo took a few bites of his sandwich, then placed it on the plate.

“Not good?” she asked.

Uncomfortable with the question, Miklo shifted position. “I don’t know how to answer that without sounding completely biased.” He picked up the sandwich again, but didn’t eat.

“Oh, do try,” she said with narrowed eyes that sparkled with mischief.

He sighed and leaned forward. “Okay, so I’m half Greek, half Mexican. My uncle owns the best restaurant in town. After eating that kind of food all of my life, a simple sandwich from the hospital grill just doesn’t cut it sometimes. Know what I mean?”

“I can appreciate your position, but as I’ve never eaten Greek food, I can’t pass judgment on you.” She took a bite of her sandwich, seemingly not bothered.

Miklo shot forward in his seat, incredulous. “Are you kidding? You’ve never eaten Greek food?” He leaned back and placed a hand over his eyes. “Woman, you have no idea what you are missing.” He shook his head in amazement.

“Well, maybe some day you can show me.” She laughed and took another bite.

“You’re on,” he said, just as his pager went off.

“I THINK we’re due back in PACU. And Arlene will think I’ve kidnapped you or scared you off completely.”

“Oh, she knows it will take more than something like this to scare me off.” Jeannine walked beside him as they returned to the PACU.

“You’ve been a nurse for a while then?” he asked, and held open the door to the stairwell.

“Yes. I think I’ve worn out fourteen pairs of nursing shoes in the last ten years.”

“That’s a lot of miles.” He opened the doors to the PACU for her, his stride so long she had to lengthen hers to keep pace with him.

“I’ve heard someone say it’s not the miles but the mileage that gets to you.”

Startled by that insightful comment, Miklo sighed. “I’ll go along with that,” he said, thinking of the emotional mileage he’d incurred over the last few years.

“I’m sure you’ve put on a few miles yourself between medical school, residency and your hospital practice.”

“Yes. Seems like I’ve been walking the same one over and over sometimes.”

Before she could respond to that, they arrived at the PACU, and the friendly camaraderie between them faded a little. In this environment the expectations were different. She suddenly didn’t feel as open with him as she had in the canteen when it had just been the two of them at a small table. Oh, well. Not a time to get curious about the medical director.

Two hours passed before the anesthesiologist declared Roberto responsive enough to be transported to the pediatric ICU. Jeannine assisted the PACU nurse to hook up transport monitors and together they moved him upstairs. Although Roberto was not under the influence of the heavier medications any longer, Miklo’s instructions were to keep him slightly sedated.