Doctor Charmer
Chapter One - Doctor Reggie Morgan
Sirens piercing the cool winter air outside like screaming banshees on a mission, hurried footsteps a few feet away, excited yells, the squeaks of gurneys navigating the sterile halls. These are the sounds of a nightmare for others; for me, it’s my dream come to life. There’s nothing like the excitement of a hospital emergency room, and no place I’d rather be. I take a sip of black coffee, rocket fuel for my soul, the one addiction I allow myself to make it through my shift.
I pull back the curtain, dispose the coffee, adjust my white lab coat, and let my hand hover underneath the Purell hand sanitizer dispenser, a move that is second nature and which I repeat two dozen times an hour.
“Whadda we got?”
My team snaps to attention when I enter the exam room. A highly trained team I trust with my life and everyone else’s we are entrusted to save. Four years of training, tweaking, and micromanaging every element of Eastport General’s Emergency Room has it operating like a fine-tuned machine.
“Dr. Morgan. This is Timmy, aged nine. Attempted to ride his Christmas present skateboard in the hallway of his apartment building. Felt up to the challenge of the steps, and the stairs won.” Nurse Jimenez provides the update and hands me the iPad with the details. “Bumps, bruises, and looks like a fractured wrist.”
I scan the chart. Vitals are normal. “X-ray?”
“Just coming up.” Nurse Jimenez points to the digital screen on the wall above the bed. I slip on the exam gloves and read the scan. Her assessment is spot-on.
I step toward the kid, a pint-sized tot with tear-streaked cheeks and eyes wide with concern. “Hey there, champ. I’m Dr. Morgan, but you can call me Reggie. Looks like you had a Christmas to remember?” I keep my tone light, a contrast to the sterile and cold environment of an ER room. To him, this is his worst nightmare. To me, this is home.
I place a hand on his shoulder and press gently. Timmy sniffles and offers a wobbly smile. He’s a brave kid. “Mom told me to wait ’til tomorrow after they cleared the snow from the skate park, but I didn’t.”
“I’ve never been much for waiting, either. If you see something you like, go for it, even if it causes you to crash. You’ll have a cool scar and an even cooler story to tell.” I give him a wink. I raise my hands three inches above his ribs. “Let me know if anything I touch hurts.”
“My arm stings,” Timmy says as I press on his ribs and read his face for a reaction. Nothing. Good. I move on to his abdomen. Same outcome.
“Yeah, looks like you banged up that wrist pretty bad.” I glance back to the X-ray, this time taking my time to reconfirm that nothing’s been missed. No break, just a hairline fracture. I turn to face Timmy and give him a smile worthy of a brave warrior. “The good news is we have ice cream on a stick—only requires one good hand.”
“On it,” Nurse Jimenez says over my shoulder, picking up the baton. We are a team, working as one.
“And page Ortho. Let me know if Dr. Carmichael is on coverage tonight.”
Nurse Jimenez halts, one hand on the curtain, shooting me a knowing smirk over her shoulder. She’s worked with me for two years and is aware of my history with Dr. Carmichael. “She is.” Her smirk transforms into a full-on smile, already knowing what comes next.
My pulse kicks up with the news. “Timmy, you are the luckiest boy in all of Rhode Island. Dr. Carmichael is going to look at your hand. She’s super special, and just one look from her will make everything better.” I can’t prevent the snicker from escaping as I carried a crush on Angie for years. She unknowingly shared those looks with me, having no idea what they did to my insides. It came to an abrupt halt two years ago, and now we are colleagues and close friends. Probably my closest friend in the building.
“Nurse Jimenez is going to grab that ice cream and will be back to keep you company until Dr. Carmichael arrives. After that, we’re going to move you to one of our special rooms upstairs for a cool sleepover. I’m going to update your mom and dad but will be right outside those curtains if you want to chat again.”
I can’t resist raising my hand and offering him a high five with his good hand. “Am I going to have a cool scar?” he asks.
“Probably not.” I give him the truth. Angie is too talented, her precision techniques the best I’ve ever seen. When she’s done, you’ll never know which wrist she worked on. “But you’ll always have the cool story. Tell everyone it was from the twelfth floor of the Occidental Tower, and you were racing from security guards. If anyone says it’s not true, send them my way.”
“Really?”
“Really. Us impulsive guys have to stick together.” I laugh and turn, nodding for Nurse Jimenez to exit. I follow her out of the small exam room. She whispers to a technician, sending him to the cafeteria for the ice cream before heading back into the room to keep Timmy company. I scan the busy ER, the joyous sounds of monitors beeping, people racing in every direction, the sounds of my world. I place my hands on my hips, lift my chin, and pose next to the nurses’ station. “Who’s next?”
I’m in my second favorite place in the ER: the doctors’ lounge. My shoulders pressed against the wall, my feet crossed at my ankles, coffee in hand, I take a sip and catch the excited glance from Lyndsey, the new recruit from our local fire department. Her team just rescued a family from a Christmas tree fire. Every holiday season, we get our share. Pine trees dehydrated in warm houses, holiday candles lit for atmosphere, and adults indulging in too much eggnog falling asleep. Throw in an excited cat climbing the tree, an advertent pillow kicked off the couch by sleeping beauty, or a dozen other mishaps, and you have an inferno. This family was fortunate: a little smoke inhalation and a need to replace a room full of Christmas gifts and furniture.
“You should join us over at Molly’s after shift. This time of the year, there’s always someone in the bar buying us a round or two.” Lyndsey send for the third time a not-so-subtle invite in my direction. She’s aware of my reputation, which is why she’s found her way down to my ER. She finger combs her left hand through her fire-red hair, wagging her empty ring finger in my direction.
She’s bold, I will give her that. One look at the dusting of freckles across her face would have the younger version of me saying inappropriate things and skipping past the part where we make a pit stop at the bar before heading back to her place.
“Well, you’ll just have to look over your shoulder all night to see if I make it now, won’t you?” I give her what she’s come for. A tease of a connection, a rush of adrenaline, and a bit of gossip to share back at the firehouse.
“Tell Chief Boden he’s already reached his Christmas tree fire quota for the season.”
She giggles, picking up my playful tone. “That’s my fault. We’re supposed to split our patients between Eastport and Westport. But there’s something that has me twisting the rig in this direction. Care to guess what that might be?”
“If I say yes, they’ll say I’m egotistical, and if I say I don’t know, they’ll call me a liar.”
“A lose-lose.” Her gaze pins to mine and doesn’t move. “For you, that is. It’s a win for us, regardless. Everyone on the rig always leaves Eastport with a lightness we didn’t have when we arrived. You guys are good for our egos. Quota be damned.”
“Well, there is a price to pay for going over the quota. I’m sure the chief has told you.”
“I believe he said something about taking the most charming doctor in the ER out to dinner.” She grabs a fistful of her hair, tilts her head, and tosses it over her shoulder. I’m sure it’s her go-to move she uses on guys. I’ve been around the block a few times and have seen almost all of them. She looks up, expecting to find me staring, and I take a long pull of my coffee. “Hmmm,” she scoffs and plows forward. “Followed by a fitness checkup.”
She really is bold. “I don’t need to examine you to know your pulse is racing.” I push off the wall, and she takes the tiniest of steps in retreat. Her lips part, and her eyes widen in anticipation.
“Shortness of breath.” My gaze lowers to her arms by her side. “You are experiencing a heady high of dizziness that feels as if you’re flying.” I give her the play-by-play of what she’s experiencing.
“And what does the doctor prescribe to cure… my ails?” Her body leans toward me.
The door to the doctors’ lounge pushes open, and I don’t react. Lyndsey does. She leaps back as if she’s a teen caught with a boy in her parents’ basement after hours. She turns, and a wave of embarrassment skims across her face when she sees who has entered. Everyone in the hospital is familiar.
Lyndsey gathers her fire helmet from the table behind her and whispers to me. “Should I tell Chief Boden to expect you later?” I give her credit for sticking to her invite.
“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” I watch her exit the room before turning to face the intruder.
“Now’s not a good time.” I brush her off before she speaks. I’ve learned my lesson and never let her get in the first word, not here in the ER, which is my domain.
“Dr. Morgan.” Louise Derby bites out my name as if it causes her pain, and it probably does. I’ve been a purposeful pain in her side for the last year. “The end of the year will be here in a few days, and your department is the only one that’s in noncompliance.”
I scoff. “What the other departments do is none of my concern. Maybe HR should follow my lead.”
“That’s not how Human Resources works, and you know that. It’s a simple attestation. And I can’t believe you have me wasting my holiday vacation to come chase you down. You are keeping me from taking off the rest of the year.” She crosses her arms across her chest and pins me with her best HR-approved glare. I’ve been on this side of this glare from nearly every person in her department. They must workshop the move together.
“And every year, New Year’s strikes without you getting what you seek. When will you get the message?” I’m being rude on purpose. The attestation is neither simple nor harmless. It’s an annual statement sent around to every person in the hospital pledging that they follow the hospital fraternization policy. Any relations between colleagues must be disclosed and filed with HR, a policy that began four years ago when I was named head of the ER. The timing and my reputation coincided, convincing the very active rumor mill that I was the cause for the policy. I wasn’t, but I’ve never corrected anyone. However, I do have my reasons for opposing it.
“Well, this year will be different. Dr. Riggs is retiring next year and wants to secure his legacy with no loose ends. He’s told every department to get their shops in order. If you don’t sign, I will bring this to his attention. With your reputation and history, he’ll gladly make an example of you on his way out the door.” She gives me an update that is two months late. Dr. Riggs has never been a fan of mine because of his niece’s infatuation with me nearly a decade ago. An infatuation I toyed with in the name of hospital politics, never seeing the damage it caused to his niece until it was too late.
“Yeah, good luck with that.” I feel the buzz on my hip and whip out the pager, happy for a distraction. It’s an alert. A big one. I should have known the minute HR showed up in my ER that it would be a sign of the apocalypse. “We’re done here.”
Louise huffs as I march around her and ignore her last comment. “We’re just getting started, Dr. Charmer.”
She calls out loud the hospital moniker that is usually whispered behind closed doors. She falsely believes her words will sting me. They don’t. I learned a long time ago to embrace the name and the reputation that comes along with it.
Hearing it called out in the ER doesn’t embarrass me; it only emboldens me. I am who people believe me to be. I paint on a smile and prepare to charm away.
---
Chapter Two - Ivy Springwood
“Hold on to that ball,” I shout, twisting in my front-row seat in the van, taking in the laughter of the girls. My girls. Eight members of the Cromwell College women’s volleyball team filled with giddiness from us pulling off a monumental victory against a school that is nationally ranked.
Chelsea snatches the flagrant volleyball from the air, her deft hands always reliable. “I got it, Coach.” She shoots me a wink from the back seat and stuffs the ball underneath the seat in front of her.
I blow her a kiss, still floating on air that we are here. Our little team was never supposed to make the regional tournament. When we received the surprise selection, we had no funds for this trip. We didn’t even have transportation.
I twist back in my seat, my gaze taking in the dark, snow-covered, single-lane country road. We’re in the middle of nowhere Rhode Island, headed to the team’s hotel located outside a town called Eastport. “Thanks again for driving. And for getting us the van,” I thank our chauffeur and savior, Griffin Smart. He’s a member of the men’s volleyball and basketball team and scored us access to the basketball van, a precious resource in our fund-challenged school.
Griffin is a sweetheart and pitched in at every fundraising event we held over the last few weeks for this trip.
He reaches up to his rear-view mirror and adjusts it, something I’ve seen him do regularly. He’s not all altruistic; his reputation on campus is legendary, and he’s set his sights on the girls on my team. It would be much easier to manage if half the team didn’t already carry a crush on him.
“You know I’d do anything to spend time with you gals.” He doesn’t even try to hide the devilish smirk spreading across his face. If I were ten years younger, he’d be exactly the type of bad boy I’d get in trouble with.
“Well, I still appreciate you taking an interest. We’re a family, and we stick together and look out for one another. Welcome to the family.” I give him the mantra I’ve instilled in the girls, hoping to keep him on the straight and narrow.
His chuckle is his deflection. “Think of me less as family and more of the hot, next-door neighbor.” He flirts relentlessly, even with me. “I can’t believe you gals gave up your Christmas break for the tournament.”
I shift and stare at the icy, deserted, and windy road. Tall, bare trees covered in snow give a beautiful backdrop. “The girls were excited for the invite.” It’s what I tell myself as I pushed for this. These types of opportunities don’t come along very often. I think of my family, who moved our Christmas celebration up a day to accommodate my schedule. My two sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles all crashed at my place to celebrate before I had to rush off with the team for the start of the tournament scheduled for Boxing Day, the day after Christmas. “I think most of them weren’t looking forward to spending that much time at home with family,” I joke with Griffin. We’re booked at the hotel for the next week, and the team unanimously voted to stay the full stay, even if we lost in the first round.
I may be the cool coach, but they’ve been strangely mum about New Year’s Eve plans. I know that’s the real reason for their decision, and whatever is in the works doesn’t include inviting their coach, even if she’s the youngest one on the circuit.
Griffin slows the van on a tight curve, and I hear the gasp escape from my lips before he screeches. “Hold on!” My hands brace against the dashboard, my gaze locked on the three cars in the middle of the road ahead of us. Mangled metal and smoke from a car accident on the icy road.
My heart leaps to my throat as their headlights sweep through the window, lighting up the insides of the van. My immediate thought is of the girls. “Griff!” I scream. His jaw clenches, and he pulls on the steering wheel with all his strength. The sound of Johnny Mathis singing about chestnuts is overtaken by the crunch of tires on snow. We spin, each turn taking us closer to the mangled mess in the middle of the road.
Griffin grunts and whips the wheel in the opposite direction, attempting to control the uncontrollable. We fishtail, and I hold my breath, preparing for the worst.
By some miracle, Griffin regains control of the vehicle, our two right tires falling slightly into the ditch on the side of the road. He fights the sudden shift in direction, navigating us around the cars in the road. We’re not out of trouble yet. The ditch falls off, easily a five-foot drop into the woods. With half the van in the ditch, the rest wants to follow.
“Not today!” Griffin shouts with a determined look he gives his opponents on the volleyball court. His bravado is contagious. He makes me believe.
“Everyone to the left side of the van,” I turn and shout. “Now!” I capture their frightened faces but know they will comply. Me shouting instructions at them is second nature.
Four bodies leap to the left, landing on their seatmates, the van filling with a new set of screams. The tires catch grip, the tire underneath me on the front right spinning on air.
Slowly, we rise out of the ditch, one final spin as the wheels catch, and we wind up back in the center of the road. Griffin slams on the brakes, stopping on the other side of the accident. Somehow, we avoided it.
We’re safe.
“Not on my watch.” Griffin slaps his palms to the steering wheel so hard the van shakes. I take my first breath since we came around the bend.
“Is everyone all right?” I unbuckle my seat belt, ready to race to the girls’ assistance. “Sound off.” I call for them to give me the countdown I do for bed check.
They respond with laughter. Uncontrolled, we just saw our lives flash in front of our eyes laughter. Through laughter, they each call out their names in alphabetical order, and it’s the greatest serenade I’ve ever heard.
“The legend of Griffin grows,” Elise says from the seat behind Griffin, her hand patting him across his shoulder.
The girls begin a slow clap of appreciation, and I exhale. “Let’s not celebrate too soon. Looks like there might be some injured people back there not as fortunate.”
“Give me one moment to put on my Superman cape, and I’ll help.” Griffin smirks in my direction before turning to face the girls. “Who wants to be my Supergirl?”
I don’t bother counting the number of hands shooting to the ceiling of the van, volunteering to be Griffin’s partner. Yeah, they got it bad, and he knows it.
“They’re family, remember,” I whisper to warn Griffin, not for the first time.
He leans toward me. “Hot neighbor, remember?”
I brace myself for Griffin’s trademark smirk, half lip curl, half snarl, one hundred percent heart melting. Instead, I’m greeted with a horrified expression that sends shivers down my spine. Wide eyes, pupils dilated, his mouth hangs open in a silent scream. A flash of headlights illuminates his face, casting Halloween shadows across his chest.
I whip my head around to see what he sees—a colossal tractor-trailer skidding uncontrollably on the ice, barreling straight toward us. The blare of its horn is deafening, but it’s too late. Too late to swerve. Too late to escape.
My instincts take over: protect the girls. I scream a useless instruction in their direction and throw myself toward Griffin to shield him.
It’s too little. It’s too late. I barely have time to say a quick prayer before everything turns black.
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