Kitabı oku: «The Doctor's Redemption»

To Kathy Cooksey and Jeanie Brantley.

Thanks for sharing Mardi Gras with me.

Table of Contents

Cover

Praise for Susan Carlisle

Title Page

Dear Reader

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE PARADES WERE what Laura Jo Akins enjoyed most about the Mardi Gras season in Mobile, Alabama. This year was no different. She placed a hand on the thin shoulder of her eight-year-old daughter, Allie.

Her daughter smiled up at her. “When does the parade start?”

“It should already be moving our way. Listen. You can hear the band.”

The faint sound of a ragtime tune floated from the distance.

Allie looked up at Laura Jo. “Can we stay for the next one too?”

The sure thing about Mardi Gras was that the parades kept coming. The closer the calendar got to Fat Tuesday the more heavily the days were filled with parades. Sometimes as many as four a day on the weekends.

“No, honey. They’re expecting me at the hospital. We’ll watch this one and then we have to go.”

“Okay, but we get to see one another day, don’t we?”

“Maybe on Wednesday. Next Monday and Tuesday you’ll be out of school for a long weekend. We’ll be sure to watch more then.”

“Why can’t I be in one?” Allie asked, turning to look at Laura Jo.

It had been a constant question during last year’s Mardi Gras season and had become more demanding during this one. “Maybe when you get older. For now we’ll just have to watch.”

As the banner holders at the head of the parade came into sight the crowd pushed forward, forcing her and Allie against the metal barriers. A bicycling medical first responder or mobile EMT circled in front of them then rode up the street. He looked familiar for some reason but, then, most of the medical help during the carnival season were employed at the hospital where she worked. Dressed in red biking shorts and wearing a pack on his back, he turned again and pedaled back in their direction. Laura Jo squinted, trying to make out his features, but his helmet obscured her view.

Members of the medical community volunteered to work during Mardi Gras to help out with the crowds. Most of the nurses and doctors gave up their days off during the season to work the parades. It wasn’t required but many enjoyed being a part of the celebration. Laura Jo knew most of the employees at Mobile General, at least by face. Although she couldn’t place the rider, he looked just fine in his formfitting pants. He must bike regularly.

“Look, Mommy.” Allie pointed to a group of people who had come through the barriers and were entertaining the crowd standing on both sides of the street. They were dressed in clown-type outfits and were riding three-wheeled bikes with bright-colored fish attached to the side.

Laura Jo smiled down at her daughter. “That’s the Mystic Fish.”

They made a circle or two in the open parade area and then disappeared into the crowd across the street from her and Allie. Laura Jo knew from years of watching parades that they would appear somewhere else along the parade route.

“What’s a mystic fish?” Allie asked.

“You know what a fish is. In this case it’s a club or group of people. It’s also called a krewe. Because they meet in secret they are mystic or mysterious. It’s all just fun.”

“Are you in a queue?’

“It’s krewe. Like a crew member. And, no, I’m not.” She placed a hand on her daughter’s head. “I have you to take care of, work at the shelter and at the hospital. No time.”

Laura Jo understood being a member of a krewe. Her family had been participants all her life. In fact, they had been a part of the largest and most prestigious krewe in Mobile. She’d been one of the Mobile society that had celebrated her coming of age at carnival time. But no more.

The noise level increased as the first high-school band approached. She positioned Allie between her and the barrier so Allie could see. As the first ostentatiously decorated float rolled by the spectators pressed closer to them. The float was designed in a dragon motif and painted green, purple and gold with piles of beads hanging off pegs. Members of the krewe were dressed in costumes and wore masks.

She and Allie joined those around them in yelling, “Throw me something, mister.”

Raising their hands along with everyone else, she and Allie tried to catch the beads, plastic cups with the krewe name printed on them or stuffed animals that were being thrown from the float. Bands playing and music blaring from large speakers mounted on the floats made it difficult to hear.

One krewe member made eye contact with Laura Jo and pointed at Allie. He threw a small stuffed gorilla to Laura Jo, which she handed to Allie, who hugged it to her and smiled up at the grinning man. The float moved on.

When a strand of brightly colored beads flew through the air in Allie’s direction from the next float, Laura Jo reached to catch them. She couldn’t and they were snatched by the man standing behind her. He handed them to Allie. She smiled brightly at him. That was one of the special things about Mardi Gras in Mobile. It was a family affair. Any age was welcome and everyone saw that the children had a good time. Twenty minutes later a fire truck that signaled the end of the parade rolled by.

The man standing next to them shifted the barrier, creating an opening. A few people rushed through in an effort to snatch up any of the goodies that had fallen on the pavement.

“Mama, can I get those?” Allie pointed out into the street, now virtually empty except for a few children.

Laura Jo searched for what Allie was asking about. On the road lay a couple of plastic doubloons. “Sure, honey. There won’t be another parade for an hour.”

Allie ran through the opening and ran in the direction of the strand of gold and silver disks. In her exuberance to reach her target she stumbled and fell, stopping herself with her hands. Laura Jo gasped and rushed to her. Allie had already pushed herself up to a sitting position. Tears welled in her eyes but she’d not burst into sobs yet. There was an L-shaped hole in the thin material of her pants and a trickle of blood ran off the side of her knee.

“Oh, honey,” Laura Jo said.

“My hands hurt.” Allie showed Laura Jo her palms. The meaty part looked much like her knee.

“Friction burns.” Laura Jo took one of Allie’s wrists and raised her hand, blowing across it. Here she was a registered nurse with not a bandage to her name. Allie’s injuries were going to require far more than what Laura Jo was doing.

“Can I help here?” a deep male voice said from above them.

Laura Jo glanced up to see the bike medic she’d admired earlier. She’d been so adsorbed with Allie she’d not noticed him ride up.

“Do you have any four-by-fours? Some antibiotic cream?” Laura Jo asked.

The man gave her a curious look then stepped off the bike. He slung the red pack off his back and crouched down on his haunches. “Let me see what I can do.”

Laura Jo looked at him through moisture in her eyes. She knew him. Or more accurately knew who he was. Mark Clayborn. She’d had no idea he was back in town. But, then, why would she? “If you’ll just share your supplies I can handle it. I’m her mother and a nurse.”

“I appreciate that but I need to treat your daughter since it happened at the parade. I’ll have to make a report anyway.”

She gave him room. Years ago she’d been very enamored of Mark Clayborn. Just young enough to hero worship him, she’d often dreamed of “what if” when he’d glanced her way. Which he never had, unless it had been to smile at the gaggle of young maids in his queen’s court. He’d had it all. Good looks, social status, education and a bright future. And to top it off he’d been Mardi Gras King that year. Every girl had dreamed of being on his arm and she’d been no different. She had watched him so closely back then no wonder he seemed familiar.

Allie winced when he touched the angry skin of her knee.

Laura Jo’s hands shook. As an emergency room nurse she’d seen much worse, but when it came to her own child it was difficult to remain emotionally detached. Still, she should be the one caring for Allie. She’d been her sole caretaker and provider since her daughter’s father had left Laura Jo when she was three months pregnant. Having been pushed aside before, she didn’t like it any better now than she had then. No matter how irrational the reaction.

“So what’s your name, young lady?” Mark asked Allie.

She told him.

“So, Allie, what have you liked best about Mardi Gras this year?”

Allie didn’t hesitate to answer. “King Cake.”

He nodded like a sage monk giving thought to the answer. “I like King Cake, too. What’s your favorite? Cinnamon or cream cheese?”

“Cinnamon.”

“I’m a fan of cream cheese. So have you ever found the baby?”

“Yeah, once. I had to take a cake to school the next week.”

“So you baked one?”

“No, my mother did.” She pointed at Laura Jo.

Mark glanced at her with a look of respect but there was no sign of recognition. Even though their families had known each other for years he didn’t remember her. The last she’d really heard, he’d been in a bad car accident and had later left for medical school.

“You mom didn’t get it from a bakery?”

“No. She likes to make them.” Allie smiled up at Laura Jo. “She lets me put the baby inside.”

Allie continued, telling him how she liked to stand beside Laura Jo as she rolled the pastry out. She would wait patiently until it was time to put the miniature plastic baby into one of the rolls before Laura Jo braided them into a cake. When it came out of the oven Allie begged to be the one to shake the green, purple and gold sugar on top.

“Well, that sounds like fun. Are you ready to stand?”

Laura Jo couldn’t help but be impressed. Mark had cleaned up Allie with little more than a wince from her.

He placed a hand below Allie’s elbow and helped her to stand then said to Laura Jo, “Keep the area clean. If you see any infection, call a doctor right away or take her to the ER.”

Laura Jo rolled her eyes. “I’m a nurse, remember?”

“I remember, but sometimes when it’s someone we love our emotions get in the way.”

That was something close to what her father had said when she’d announced that she was marrying Phil. “He’s only interested in your last name and money.” Her father had gone on to say that Phil certainly wasn’t worth giving up her education for. When she’d asked how her father knew so much about Phil he admitted to having had someone check into his background. That Phil had already been married once and couldn’t seem to hold down a job. “He’s not good enough for you. Not welcome in our home,” had been her father’s parting words.

She’d chosen Phil. Even though she’d soon learned that her father had been right, the situation had created a rift between Laura Jo and her parents that was just as wide today as it had been nine years earlier. She had sworn then never to ask her parents for help. She had her pride.

Taking Allie’s hand, Laura Jo said, “Let’s go, honey. I’m sure we have taken enough of the medic’s time.”

“Bye,” Allie said.

Mark bent and picked up the doubloons off the pavement and placed them carefully in Allie’s hand. “I hope you find a baby in your next cake. Maybe it’ll bring you luck.”

Allie grinned back at him with obvious hero worship.

“Thank you.” She led Allie through the barrier. “Bye.”

That would be it for the reappearing Mark Clayborn. He had been a part of her life that was now long gone. She wouldn’t be seeing him again.

Mark had never planned to return to Mobile to live permanently, but that had changed. He’d worked hard to make LA home. Even the few times he’d come back to Alabama he’d only stayed a few days and then gone again. When his father’s houseman had phoned to say Mark Clayborn, Sr. had suffered a stroke, Mark could no longer refuse not to make southern Alabama his home again. His mother was gone and his brother was in the military with no control over where he was stationed. Mark was left no choice. Someone needed to live close enough to take care of his father.

Pulling up the circular drive framed by a well-manicured yard in the center of the oldest section of homes in Mobile, Mark stopped in front of the antebellum mansion. This house had been his home for the twenty-five years before he had moved to LA. Now just his father lived here. Mark had chosen to take up residence forty-five minutes across the bay in the Clayborn summer house in Fairhope, Alabama. He had joined a general practice group made up of five doctors. The clinic was located in the town of Spanish Fort, which was halfway between Mobile and Fairhope. He lived and worked close enough to take care of his father and far enough away that memories of the past would remain murky instead of vivid.

It had been carnival season when he’d left for LA. He’d been riding high on being the king. His queen had been his girlfriend for the last two years and one of the most beautiful girls in Mobile society. He’d gotten his pick of medical fellowships that had allowed him to only be a few hours away in Birmingham. Gossips had it that he and his queen would ride off into the happily-ever-after as soon as he finished his fellowship. Mark had not planned to disappoint them. That was until he and Mike had decided they needed to drive to the beach after the krewe dance on Fat Tuesday night.

How many times since he’d been back had he picked up the phone to call and see how Mike was doing? How many times had he not followed through? He’d seen Mike a few times over the years. Those had been brief and uncomfortable meetings. Mark had always left with another wheelbarrow of guilt piled on top of the mountain that was already there.

He and Mike had made big plans. They had both been on their way to Birmingham, Mark to complete his fellowship and Mike to earn his Master’s in Business. They would return to town to set up a clinic practice, Mark handling the medical end and Mike overseeing the business side. They’d even talked about their families building homes next door to each other. But after the accident Mike’s longtime girlfriend had left him. Those dreams vanished. Because of Mark.

As time had gone by it had become easier to satisfy his need to know how Mike was doing by asking others about him. Often when Mark had spoken to his father he’d ask about Mike. His father had always encouraged him to call and talk to Mike if he wanted to know how he was doing. Mark hadn’t. That way the guilt didn’t become a throbbing, breathing thing.

Mark pushed the front doorbell of his father’s house then opened the door. He was met in the high-ceilinged hall by John, the man who had worked for Mark, Sr. since Mark, Jr. had been a boy.

“Hi. How’s he doing today?”

“Your dad has had a good day. He’s out by the pool.”

Mark headed down the all-too-familiar hall that led through the middle of the house and out onto the brick patio with the pool beyond. His father sat in a wheelchair in the sun, with his nurse nearby, reading a book. Mark winced at the sight. It hurt his heart to see the strong, commanding man brought to this by a stroke. Only with time and patience and massive amounts of physical therapy would he regain enough strength to walk again. At least his father had a chance of getting out of the chair, unlike Mike, who had no choice.

Mark circled his father so he faced him. “Hi, Dad.”

His white-haired father gave him a lopsided smile. “Hello, son.”

Fortunately his mind was still strong. His nurse closed her book and after a nod to Mark made her way toward the house.

Mark pulled a metal pool chair close so he could sit where his father could see him. “How are you doing today?”

“Fine. Emmett has been by to tell me what went on at the board meeting. He said you didn’t make it.”

“No, I had patients to see. We’ve talked about this already. You’ve put good people in place to handle the company. Let them do it.”

“It’s not the same. We need a Clayborn there.”

“I know, Dad.”

His father continued. “I’m glad you stopped by. I wanted to talk to you about attending the krewe dance next week. I can’t go and our family needs to be represented. You’re the only one to do it.”

Mark had always enjoyed the fanfare and glamour of The Mystical Order of Orion dance, the visit from the king and queen and their court. But after what had happened twelve years ago he was hesitant to attend. He took a deep breath. “It’s not really my thing anymore but I know it’s important to you to keep up appearances.”

“You were king. That is and was a high honor. You owe it to the krewe, to the Clayborn name to attend.”

“I know, Dad. I’ll do my duty.”

“This used to be your favorite time of the year. You need to let yourself off the hook, son. It wasn’t your fault.”

Maybe everyone thought that but Mark sure didn’t. He carried the horror of what had happened to Mike with him daily. Now that he was back in Mobile it was more alive than it had ever been. Time hadn’t healed the wound, only covered it over.

Mark had dinner with his father then headed across the bay to Fairhope, a small township where the family summer home was located. When he’d arrived in Alabama he’d needed a place to live. Staying in Fairhope gave him a house of his own, a safe haven. Since he was working at a clinic in Spanish Fort, a city just north of Fairhope, living there was convenient.

Entering the large dark room with hardwood paneling, Mark walked through to the family-style kitchen. There he pulled a drink out of the refrigerator and went out to the deck. Mobile Bay stretched far and wide before him. He could see the tall buildings of the city in the distance. The wind had picked up, rustling the shrubbery around the deck. A seagull swooped down and plucked a fish out of the water near the end of the pier. No, this wasn’t LA anymore.

Mark had agreed to pitch in and work the parades as a first responder when one of his new partners had said that they did that as a public service during Mardi Gras season. He’d agreed to do his part but had expected that it would be in some of the surrounding smaller towns. When he’d been assigned the parade in downtown Mobile he hadn’t felt like he could say no. He needed to be a team player since he’d only joined the medical group a few months earlier. Despite the parade location, Mark had enjoyed the assignment. Especially helping the young girl. Her mother had been attractive. More than once since then he’d wondered where she worked.

He’d spent the rest of the parade scanning the crowd. His chest still contracted at the thought he might see Mike. He’d spent years making a point of not thinking about the automobile accident. Now that he was back it seemed the only thing on his mind.

His cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket. “This is Dr. Clayborn.”

“Hey, Mark, it’s Ralph. We need you again the day after tomorrow if you can help us out. Afternoon parade in Dauphine.”

He didn’t mind working a parade in Dauphine. It was on his side of the bay. As long as it wasn’t in Mobile. There the chance of facing his past became greater. “Yeah, I’m only seeing patients in the morning. Will I be on a bike again?”

“Not this time. I just need you at the med tent. It’ll be set up in the First Baptist Church parking lot.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Marsha?” Laura Jo called as she and Allie opened the door of her best friend’s apartment Wednesday afternoon.

“Hey, we’re back here,” a voice came from the direction of the kitchen area located in the back of the apartment.

She followed Allie down the short hallway to find Marsha and her son, Jeremy, decorating a wagon with purple, green and gold ribbons.

Marsha looked up as they entered. “You know Mardi Gras almost kills me every year. I say I’m not going to do anything next year then here I am, doing even more.”

Allie had already joined in to help Jeremy with the decorations.

“I know what you mean. It makes working in the ER interesting. I’ve enjoyed my day off but I’ll pay for it, no doubt, by being on the night shift. I appreciate you letting Allie spend the night.”

“It’s not a problem. I love her like my own.” She ruffled Allie’s hair.

Laura Jo had met Marsha at the Mothers Without Partners clinic. Phil had lived up to all her father’s predictions and more when he’d left her pregnant and cleaned out their bank account to never be seen again. Even after all these years he hadn’t even checked to see if he had a son or daughter. Marsha’s husband had died in a fishing accident. She and Marsha had hit it off right away. Circumstances had brought them together but friendship had seen to it that they still depended on each other.

They’d shared an apartment for a few months and had traded off their time watching the kids while the other had worked or gone to school. They had their own apartments now but in the same complex and Marsha was more like family than the one Laura Jo had left behind.

They had joined forces to help other mothers who didn’t have anyone to fall back on. They had convinced the city to sell them an old home so these women would have a place to live and receive help while they were getting their lives in order. The deadline to pay for the house was looming. Finding the funding had become more difficult than Laura Jo had anticipated.

Marsha announced, “I heard from the city contact. He said we had to move soon on the house or the city will have to announce it’s for sale. They can’t hold it forever.”

Laura Jo groaned. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “How much time do we have?”

“Week or two. At least until things settle down after Mardi Gras. We’ve got to come up with a good way to raise a lot of money. Fast. I know you don’t want to do it but you do have the contacts. Maybe you could put on a party dress and go pick the pockets of all those society friends you used to hang around with.”

Laura Jo shook her head. “That’s not going to happen. We’ll have to find another way.”

What if she had to face her mother and father? Worse, have them see her asking for money. That’s what they had thought she’d be doing if she married Phil. That’s what he’d wanted her to do, but she’d refused. After her fight with her parents she and Phil had gone to Las Vegas that night to get married.

When they’d returned Phil had left to work on an oil rig. Three weeks later he’d come home. A week later all his pay had gone and he’d admitted he’d been fired. He’d made noises about looking for a job but in hindsight she didn’t think he’d ever really tried. Things had got worse between them. The issue that finally snapped them had been Laura Jo telling him she was pregnant. Phil’s snarling parting words were, “I didn’t sign on for no kid. You can’t put that on me. Having you is bad enough.”

Marsha gave her questioning look. “You know I’m kidding but …”

“I’ll come up with something.” She checked her watch. “Now, I have to get to the hospital.” Stepping toward Allie, Laura Jo said to Marsha, “I’ll meet you at the parade tomorrow evening.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Laura Jo leaned down and kissed Allie on the head. “See ya. Be good for Marsha.”

“I will,” Allie replied, then returned to what she was doing.

“Thanks, Marsha.” Laura Jo called as she went up the hall.

Six hours later, Laura Jo was longing for her dinner and a moment to put her feet up. She wasn’t going to get either anytime soon. Working in a trauma one level hospital meant a constant influx of patients, not only the regular cases but Mardi Gras’s as well, which brought out the revelers and daredevils. Weekend nights were the worst and the place resembled a circus with not enough clowns to go around. Everyone had their hands full. The doors were swishing open regularly with people coming in. The constant ringing of the phone filled the area, blending with the piercing scream of ambulance sirens.

As she stepped back into the nursing station the phone rang again. Seconds later the clerk called out, “Incoming. Sixty-seven-year-old male. Heart attack. Resuscitating in transit. Child with head trauma behind that. ETA ten.”

“I’ll take the heart. Trauma six.” Laura Jo hurried to set up what was needed before the patient arrived.

Minutes later the high-pitched sound of the ambulance arriving filled the air and Laura Jo rushed outside. The double rear doors of the vehicle stood wide open. Usually by this time the EMTs would be unloading the patient.

Looking inside, she immediately recognized the EMT working over the patient but not the other man. Then she did. Mark Clayborn. Again he was wearing red biking shorts and a yellow shirt of a first responder.

Mark held the portable oxygen bubble away from the patient as the EMT placed the defibrillator paddles on the patient’s chest. The body jerked. The beep of the machine monitoring the heart rate started and grew steadier. Putting the earpieces of the stethoscope that had been around his neck into place, Mark listened to the man’s heart. “Let’s get him inside,” he said with a sharp tone of authority. He then made an agile jump to the ground, turned toward the interior of the ambulance and helped bring out the patient on the stretcher.

Although confused by why he had been allowed in the emergency vehicle, she still followed his lead. It was against policy to ride in the back unless you were part of the EMT staff. But now wasn’t the time for questions. She stood aside while the two men lifted out the stretcher. The wheels dropped to the pavement and Laura Jo wrapped her hand around the yellow metal frame and pulled. Mark kept his fingers on the pulse point of the patient’s wrist while the EMT pushed.

They had reached the doors when Mark said, “We’re losing him again.”

Tall enough to lean over and push on the patient’s chest, he began compressions. Another nurse met them and gave oxygen. Laura Jo kept moving ahead, her arm burning. To her relief, they got the patient into the trauma room. There Mark and the EMT used the defibrillator once again. Seconds later the monitor made a beep and the line went from straight to having peaks and valleys. After they gained a steady pulse, she worked to place leads to the monitors on the patient. The ER doctor rushed in.

Mark and the EMT backed away with exhausted sighs, giving the ER doctor, Laura Jo and the other staff members space to work. For the next twenty intensive minutes, Laura Jo followed the ER doctor’s instructions to the letter. Finally they managed to stabilize the patient enough to send him to surgery.

Laura Jo had to talk to the family. They must be scared. When she asked the admission clerk where they were she was told exam room five.

“Why are they in an exam room?”

“The man’s granddaughter is being evaluated.”

Laura Jo headed for the exam room. It shouldn’t have surprised her that Mark was there, too. He came out as she was preparing to go in.

“Well, fancy meeting you here,” he drawled in a deep voice that made her think of a dark velvet night.

“It’s not that amazing really. I work here.”

“I figured that out. So how’s your daughter? Healing nicely?”

“She’s fine. A little tender but fine.”

“Good. By the way, I’m Dr. Mark Clayborn.”

“Yes, I know who you are. As in the Clayborn Building, Clayborn Bank, Clayborn Shipping.