Dianne Drake - The Doctor's Lost-and-Found Heart

“I think the term today is repurposed.” Jack stepped in, took a quick look, and decided it would work. Not well, but well enough for some basic cultures. “So, Amanda said I have free rein, which means I’d like to start by examining the ward where the kids have been infected.”

“Well, since pediatrics is Amanda’s specialty, she’s going to assist you once she’s done with Maritza. Oh, and while you’re here, I’ve taken the liberty of adding you to our clinic schedule, if that’s okay with you.”

“You’re good, slipping that in there when you think I’m focusing on something else,” Jack said, laughing.

“We take our advantages where we can.” He patted Jack on the back. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here, and until I hear otherwise, I’m going to consider you on call for general duty, starting tonight.” Ben pointed to the door at the opposite end of the hall. “My sister’s out there, when you’re ready for her.”

Jack didn’t respond. Could anyone every really be ready for Amanda?

Slipping into a pair of plum-colored scrub pants, Amanda cinched the drawstring at the waist and headed for the pediatric ward. Actually, it wasn’t a ward so much as one large room, sparse with equipment and other medical accoutrements. But there were beds, and sick children, and a growing problem that worried her.

Funny how Jack’s mere presence brought with it peace of mind. She couldn’t deny it, particularly since some of that peace was oozing into her. Peace in her medical life and, oddly, peace in her personal life. It was better knowing she might be Mapuche, she’d decided. Painful because that knowledge caused uncomfortable questions, but better. Although she owed him an apology because clearly he hadn’t wanted to be involved in the disarray she called her personal life. Yet he’d allowed himself to be dragged in, which wasn’t at all what she’d expected from him.

Something had changed him, though. She’d seen it happen. Seen the incredible struggle when it had flashed over him. But he had been so quick to grab it back, put it away. Leaving her wondering about the person he’d loved. Someone Mapuche. Perhaps a woman? The love of his life?

It occurred to her Jack may have returned to Argentina bearing some kind of pain, simply because she’d asked. “Who are you, Jack?” she asked, as her scrub top slid into place. “What kind of man are you?”

The kind who would fight to keep her from figuring him out. That was the answer that came to her on her way to meet him in Pediatrics. He wanted his distance, and she wanted … Well, she wasn’t sure about that. Maybe all she wanted was to understand him. After all, their worlds did intersect in more than one place, so why wouldn’t she want to understand someone who threaded in and out? Yes, that was it. A perfectly good reason for having Jack on her mind almost constantly. Which had turned into the case.

All thoughts led to Jack, but that was okay, because all she wanted was to understand. That was some mighty fine logical reasoning leading up to a half-believed conclusion. Who was she kidding, though? Because peel back all that logic and she just plain liked his gruff exterior, even his distance. That was what Argentina did for her, gave her different freedom than she was used to. Changed her perspective. It happened every time she was here, maybe because deep down she’d always felt the innateness of who she was. Or wanted to be.

“Anything going on other than what’s being recorded in the charts?” Jack asked from his casual seat behind the old wooden desk that sufficed as the hub of the ward. One desk, one swivel chair, a rusty file cabinet, all of it tucked into the corner, out of the way. And Jack’s size overwhelmed everything. An immense man in a small space made the man look even more immense.

Amanda noticed that, fought to keep her gaze steady. “Not really. Symptoms are mild, nothing you wouldn’t expect. No one critical or even in danger.”

“And you don’t think that this might be some run-of-the-mill hospital infection, one that’s not going to cause any real trouble.” It was a statement, not a question. “Ben’s downplaying it, so he’s not the best one to go to for an objective answer. You, though, got me here, which means you’re worried. So what’s your assessment?”

“That’s just it, Jack,” she said, perching herself on the edge of the desk. “I don’t know. Ben’s been fighting this HAI for a few weeks now, it’s isolated, but it’s not going away. Not getting better or worse, either. With the way things mutate … and I’m not the expert on this, so bear with me. But you read how these various strains, bacterial and viral, mutate, and how so much of what we thought would stop the spread is rendered ineffective very quickly. My brother is smart, and he’ll do whatever it takes to protect the hospital. Me too, because I’m also involved in this, and I believe you’re what it takes or else I wouldn’t have asked for your help.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, every hospital known to man runs some sort of HAI strain through it, Amanda. These kids have gastrointestinal flu-like symptoms. That’s all. And according to what I’ve read, they’ve all been cured pretty easily.”

“But per patient, our percentage is huge. One third of them are coming down with something we’re giving them and that statistic, if nothing else, should be a warning. It’s just that I don’t know what the warning is about.”

“Then it’s a good thing you called me because warnings are my specialty.” He glanced up. “So, it’s time for me to meet the ward.”

“Not the children?”

“Nope, not at first,” he said, standing. “Sometimes not at all. I seem to have a better rapport with the contaminant than I do patients, so I try to keep to where I’m better received.”

“Such a low opinion of yourself,” she said.

“Or a high one, depending on your perspective. Anyway, with the symptoms that are manifesting themselves, the scope of what could be infecting the kids should be pretty limited, so I like to look at everything from a fresh perspective, which includes culturing areas that wouldn’t normally be associated with what we’re seeing. In other words, wear a sturdy pair of suspenders along with a belt, just in case.”

“Overreacting?” she asked, smiling.

He didn’t answer her at first. Instead, he merely stood and stared at her, eventually giving in to a half smile, then finally, “Reacting.”

“Okay, then. If you’re intent on reacting, did you bring the testing supplies with you, because we don’t have—”

“I come prepared. Might even have another trick or two up my sleeve.” He grabbed his white lab coat off the back of the chair, which she hated seeing because she liked his look now … cargo pants, and a crisp, white T-shirt. But everybody had something to cover up, didn’t they? Jack covered something dark and despairing. Her parents covered something that scared her. She covered up so many things in herself, as well.

But what would happen once the covers started to peel back? That was a question she couldn’t answer. And wasn’t sure she wanted answered.

“I DON’T suppose you’ve solved it already?” Amanda asked hopefully. “You know, one swipe of a trusty test swab and you have your answer.” She plopped down on her bed, flat on her back, and looked across at Jack, who was busy reading, also trying hard to ignore her. “You know, Jack, the kids I work with back in Texas don’t respond to me half the time for any number of reasons. They’re slow processing the question, not sure what an appropriate response is. A lot of the time they’re distracted, or they simply don’t know that answering when someone asks them a question is the right thing to do. So when I don’t get a response from them, I understand because my children, for the most part, are autistic, and I teach them how to respond. But you don’t need to be taught.”