Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Aaron hovered in the PACU until Joey was discharged from the care of the anesthesiologist. Maggie remained at the boy's bedside, doing an admirable job of staying out of the way.

He'd noticed how she'd kept an eye on the little boy's vital signs, encouraging him to breathe if his oxygenation level dropped too low. She appeared stressed when he cried out in pain, and he knew she wanted nothing more than to help the child feel better.

It was tempting to head up to Joey's room, but there was no good excuse for him to show up there. He'd done his part, getting Kyle involved so he could do the procedure, calling the police to check if they'd found any family for the child, and helping Maggie get settled in the hotel nearby. A hotel she wouldn't use as he felt certain she'd spend the night in Joey's room.

No, the only reason to head up to the seventh floor now was to see Maggie again. Talk about being a glutton for punishment. He should be over her by now, two years after their divorce.

He wasn't.

His problem, not hers. He forced himself to head home, even though there was nothing remotely appealing about the empty house he'd purchased upon his return to Milwaukee.

Watching Maggie and Joey made him keenly aware of what he'd lost. He'd tried to move on, to find the family he'd always wanted, but he hadn't met anyone like Maggie.

Pathetic the only woman he wanted was the one who'd left him.

The ringing of his phone dragged him from sleep, a dream in which he and Maggie had decided to get back together. Too bad it was only a dream. He rubbed his eyes, noting the time was three in the morning. The number on the screen was from Children's Memorial. He wasn't on call, but that didn't always matter.

"This is Aaron Monroe," he said in a voice husky with sleep.

"Dr. Monroe, I'm sorry to bother you, but we have a baby girl who's been admitted with what I believe is a congenital heart defect." The resident on the other end of the line sounded a bit nervous, as if he knew he was taking a risk in calling the chairman of the department in the middle of the night. "I'm calling you directly because the surgeon on call hadn't answered his calls or pages."

All sleepiness faded as Aaron digested that news. He already knew who was on call—Dr. Dale Fullerton—and this was not the first time the guy hadn't responded to calls or pages.

"I can try again," the resident said. "But someone needs to see this little girl ASAP."

"Don't bother with Fullerton, I'm on my way." Aaron rolled off the bed. "I'm less than fifteen minutes out."

"I…didn't give you a name. How did you know the doc who didn't respond was Fullerton?" the resident asked.

He winced, realizing he shouldn't have filled in the name of the attending who was supposed to be on call. The guy's inability to respond to his calls was Aaron's problem to tackle as the chairman of the department. It wasn't the resident's concern. "What's the name and room number of our patient?"

"Grace Baxter, she's on six south," the resident replied.

"Great. I'll be there soon."

"Thank you."

Aaron threw on casual clothes, brushed his teeth, then headed out the door. The home he'd purchased was close to the hospital, so he made it within the allotted timeframe. Using his ID badge to access the locked doors, he strode toward the elevators. He wondered how Maggie and Joey were doing, but there wasn't time for a detour to the seventh floor.

He found Grace Baxter easily enough, and a quick assessment with the resident, Jamal Cook, confirmed the resident's diagnosis that Grace was suffering from a patent foramen ovale, which was the formal term for having a hole between two chambers of the heart. What concerned him was the way the little girl was breathing too fast and the dusky blueish tint around her lips. He didn't think this could wait until Monday; he'd prefer to operate right away to prevent complications.

He turned to Jamal. "I need you to call the OR to get a room set up for her ASAP. Good call on escalating this to the attending level."

"I—thanks." Jamal Cook flushed with gratitude, then hurried off to make the arrangements.

Aaron turned his attention to Grace's mother who looked horrified by the news that her daughter needed surgery to correct a hole in her heart.

"I don't understand," the woman said, wringing her hands. "How did this happen?"

He needed to choose his words carefully. He didn't want to throw another physician under the bus, but Grace was six months old, and he was convinced she was born with the cardiac condition. One that had been missed by her pediatrician and the hospital staff who'd tended to the baby after her birth. It wasn't always easy to determine a patent foramen ovale, but the way the child's symptoms were presenting, he suspected someone should have noticed.

"Babies can have heart conditions that are present at birth but that aren't diagnosed right away. Babies pretty much eat and sleep, so there's not as much stress on the heart until they get older. You didn't do anything wrong," he hastened to reassure the mother. "The hole in Grace's heart should have closed on its own after her birth. But it didn't. I know this sounds scary, but I want to assure you that I've done this procedure hundreds of times."

The exhausted mother brushed away her tears. "If you say so, Doctor. I want Grace to feel better."

"She'll do very well after the procedure. I'll need you to sign a surgical consent form," he went on. "There are risks to every procedure, but we do everything possible to minimize those risks."

Jamal returned with the paper consent form. Aaron explained the procedure at length using terms he hoped Grace's mother could understand. Once she signed off on the consent, he rested a hand on the woman's arm.

"I'll take good care of Grace," he assured her.

"Thank you, Dr. Monroe." She sniffled and turned her attention back to her baby girl.

Leaving Grace and her mother with Jamal, who would get the little girl prepped for the procedure, he headed to the locker room to change into scrubs. He was wide awake now, and as he scrubbed his hands and forearms at the deep sink, his thoughts turned to Maggie and Joey. Behind him, the OR staff who had been called in on this early Saturday were scurrying around to ready the room.

He told himself they were likely doing fine. He and Maggie might be divorced, but if she thought Joey needed something urgently, she wouldn't hesitate to call.

Time to focus on Grace's upcoming procedure. Even though it was a relatively routine case for pediatric cardiac surgeons, he'd learned early in his career to never take a case for granted. Anything could go wrong, especially when dealing with young babies who didn't have much in the way of a medical history.

Allergies to drugs and anesthetics were not uncommon. He'd come to appreciate the talent and skills of the anesthesiologists on staff here at Children's Memorial, but they weren't Maggie.

Then again, he hadn't worked with Maggie since their split. She'd moved into working with trauma patients, much like Joey.

Forcing thoughts of Maggie out of his head, he dried his hands and donned his protective gear. For the next few hours, his primary concern would be Grace Baxter. He might have failed at his marriage, but he was still a good surgeon.

All he cared about was making sure Grace came through this open-heart procedure without difficulty.

* * *

Maggie awoke for what seemed to be the tenth time to Joey crying out in pain. As soon as the pain medication wore off, he became restless and upset.

She didn't blame him. Hitting the call light to summon the nurse, she stretched out on the bed beside the little boy. "It's okay. I'm here. You're going to be okay."

"My tummy hurts," he whimpered.

"I know, sweetie. I know." Spending the night with Joey gave her a new appreciation for parents with sick children. Not only was it nearly impossible to get any sleep, but the overwhelming sense of helplessness was just as difficult to overcome. There was no getting around the fact that surgery hurt. She would have given anything to be able to ease Joey's suffering.

The little boy rested against her until the night-shift nurse brought his pain medication. He'd stopped asking about his mother, which was a blessing. Every time she tried to describe how his mother was in heaven watching over him, tears filled her eyes.

At seven in the morning, Kyle Flores came in to see them. He didn't look surprised to find her there as he nodded in greeting. "How is my star patient this morning?"

"His vitals are stable," Maggie said, as Joey rested against her. His eyelids drooped as the pain meds had kicked in. "He's been crying out in pain every four hours between doses."

Kyle pulled out his stethoscope as he approached the bed. "As you well know, this will be the worst day. The pain should lessen over the next twenty-four hours."

She did know, but that didn't make it any easier to watch the little boy suffer. She held Joey as Kyle listened to his heart and lungs. The boy barely moved, having grown accustomed to the hospital staff using stethoscopes to examine him.

"I'm reassured he's not running a fever," Kyle said when he finished. "How much blood is coming from the drain?"

"Less than ten cc's all night," she said.

"Good. If that continues, I can remove the drain later this afternoon." Kyle eyed her thoughtfully. "No news yet on a guardian?"

She shook her head. "I'm hoping maybe we'll hear something today."

"Yeah." He regarded her thoughtfully. "I take it you and Aaron are close. You mentioned you used to be married."

"Uh, yes. I—we worked together at Johns Hopkins." She saw no reason to explain about their divorce. "I learned Aaron was anxious to return to Milwaukee to be closer to his family."

"Yeah, well, being offered the chairmanship over the entire pediatric cardiac surgery department is another good reason to relocate," Kyle said with a wry smile. "He's the youngest surgeon to be in that position in the history of the Milwaukee Medical Center."

Chairman of Pediatric Cardiac Surgery? She hadn't realized Aaron was that much of a bigwig. Children's Memorial may not have the same prestige as Johns Hopkins, but being the chairman of an entire department was impressive. No wonder surgeons like Kyle had jumped to do his bidding. "Yes, he's a talented guy."

"True." Kyle crossed over to log into the computer. He scrolled through the data, made a few notes, then turned back to face her. "Do you need anything else?"

"No thanks." She appreciated his treating her like a colleague. "Will you be in to remove the drain or one of the residents?" It was a Saturday, so she fully expected Kyle would delegate the procedure.

He hesitated, then shrugged. "I'll stop by later and take care of it myself."

She hadn't meant to pressure him into coming back in but nodded gratefully. Maybe she was being overprotective, but she wanted the best for Joey.

The little boy didn't need to suffer any complications from his procedure.

"Thanks again, Kyle." She rested back against the pillow after the trauma surgeon left. She was getting hungry but didn't want to eat in front of the little boy. Not that Joey had complained about feeling hungry.

Joey fell asleep against her, his breathing deep and regular. She'd made a game out of using his deep breathing machine, and even though it hurt for him to take deep breaths, he seemed to like the challenge of raising the ball in the plastic container.

Glancing at her watch, she debated slipping away to grab a bite to eat. Joey wouldn't miss her while he was sleeping, and based on previous medication doses, he'd be down for the count for at least two hours.

Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, she gently eased away. Joey shifted on the bed but relaxed against the pillow. She tucked the stuffed dalmatian dog she'd picked up at the gift shop next to him.

For a long moment, she watched him sleep, then shoved her feet into her shoes and ran her fingers through her long curly hair.

Breakfast and coffee, not necessarily in that order , she thought wryly as she slipped from the room.

She was waiting for the elevator to arrive when Aaron emerged from the stairwell. He stopped abruptly, clearly not expecting to see her. He looked good, despite his wrinkled scrubs, dangling face mask, and his dark hair tousled from this surgical cap.

"Are you coming from the OR?" she asked.

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Spent the past three hours repairing a patent foraman ovale."

"I didn't realize you were on call last night."

"I wasn't. But you know how that goes." He glanced down the hall toward Joey's room. "How's Joey this morning?"

"Doing well. You just missed Kyle. He's already been in making rounds." The ding of the elevator startled her. "I was heading down to grab breakfast."

"Great, I'm starved."

She hadn't intended to issue an invitation, but there was no way to gracefully refuse Aaron's intent to accompany her to the cafeteria. She stepped into the elevator, then held the door for him.

They rode in silence down to the cafeteria. She blamed her lack of sleep for being unable to think of anything to say. Then she remembered his patient. "How did the surgery go?"

"Fine. Grace is doing well." He waited for her to exit the elevator first. "She's in good hands with the anesthesiologist and nursing staff in the PACU."

She nodded, trying to come up with another topic of conversation. Anything other than their personal relationship.

Thankfully, the cafeteria was busy that morning, and the chattering staff members grabbing food made it difficult to talk. Since they'd eaten breakfast together hundreds of times, they crossed over to the grill for eggs, bacon, and toast.

Ten minutes later, they were seated at a quiet table in the corner of the room. "So, tell me why you had to come in to operate last night?" Maggie had decided that the best thing was to talk about work. It was the one area where they'd been the most compatible.

Until the demands of their careers had driven another wedge between them.

"Most of the surgeons here are great," Aaron said, taking a bite of bacon. "But there's one guy in particular who often claims he didn't hear his phone or his pager when he's on call."

Her eyes widened. "That's not good."

"No, it's not. I'll have to bring him in for a chat." Aaron grimaced. "I don't mind being in a leadership position for the most part, handling more paperwork and attending meetings are fine. But this kind of thing?" He frowned. "Makes me feel like I'm dealing with a bunch of idiotic teenagers sometimes."

She couldn't help but laugh. There was no shortage of drama within the medical profession, much like any other environment. "That's why you get paid the big bucks," she teased.

"Yeah, well, it seemed like a good idea at the time," he groused. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then he reached for his coffee. "I've been up since three in the morning. How did Joey sleep?"

"He woke up every few hours in pain." She took a bite of toast. "He's been really good about not touching the drain site, though. And he's not running a fever anymore either. He has minimal drainage from the tube, and if that continues, Kyle plans to remove it. I think he's well on the road to recovery."

"I'm glad to hear that." Aaron held her gaze for a long moment, and she could practically see the questions spinning in his mind. She looked away, not wanting to get into a heavy discussion about why she'd stayed overnight in Joey's room.

Or the steps she would have to take to become the boy's guardian if there were no family members to be found.

The latter wasn't likely. Over the nighttime hours she'd spent in his room, she'd steeled herself for the inevitable. Joey's mother had parents or siblings. Someone would step forward to care for the little boy.

But if they didn't? It was hard not to let the hope build in her heart.

Before she could try to change the subject, his phone beeped. He pulled out the device and glanced at the message. "Grace is doing well. They just removed her breathing tube."

"That's wonderful." She had to give him credit where it was due. Aaron was an excellent surgeon. One of the best she'd worked with. "I'm sure the little girl's mother will be relieved she's going to make a full recovery."

He nodded, and they ate for a while in silence. She quickly finished the rest of her meal, anxious to bring an end to the awkwardness between them. "I need to get back upstairs before Joey's pain meds wear off. I don't want him to wake up alone."

"Maggie." He grabbed her wrist as she stood to leave. "I know it's probably too late, but you shouldn't get too emotionally attached to him. I don't want to see you get hurt."

She bit back the urge to snap at him. "I don't care if I get hurt. That little boy has just lost his mother. He needs me to be there for him."

"I know that, but…"

"But nothing," she interrupted, tugging her wrist free. "I understand he may have family members out there. If so, that's fine. I still intend to be there to help Joey transition to his new caregivers. The fact that he doesn't know anything about a father or aunts, uncles, or grandparents isn't a good sign. Even if he has relatives, they will be strangers to him."

"Yes, that's true," Aaron murmured. "I understand your attachment to him."

Did he? She wasn't so sure. She managed a reassuring smile and picked up her tray. "Take care of yourself. And little Grace." Without waiting for him to respond, she dropped her tray of dirty dishes on the conveyor belt that would carry them around back to the dishwasher, then headed out of the cafeteria. She remembered passing a coffee shop in the lobby, so she headed there for a quick refill before taking the elevator back up to the seventh floor.

Sipping her coffee, she poked her head into Joey's room. He was still sleeping, so she walked down to the small lounge located at the end of the hall.

She imagined this space was used for smaller patient and family gatherings, but it was empty now. Tired of sitting, she stood off to the side, absently watching some cartoon show on the television. Disney+ was a big hit here.

Smiling, she remembered how Joey had loved watching the television in his room. She didn't know much about Joey's mother's financial situation, but from what she could tell, Joey hadn't been exposed to many Disney or other animated movies. It was a good way to distract him from the pain.

After finishing her coffee, she headed back down the hall to Joey's room. And stopped abruptly when she saw a familiar police officer walking toward her. Officer Thomas wasn't alone; he had a skinny tattooed man with him. The guy's pale and sunken features along with the ratty and stained long-sleeved shirt he wore with equally stained and holey jeans did not portray a man of confidence. Quite the opposite. She wished she could see his arms because his twitchy movements and shifty glances from side to side made her think he might be a drug addict.

A sense of dread washed over her. Please, Lord, not this man. Please don't let this man be Joey's father.

But based on the grim expression on Officer Thomas's face, he was.