Page 139 of Luck Be Mine
After
◊ A Program, A Purpose, A Promise ◊
The orderlies wheeled Marcus Delaney toward the recovery room. Cait watched until he disappeared through the doors, satisfaction and relief flickering through her chest.
“Good work, Cait. We’ll get solid results.” Dr. Swami Paramar stripped his gloves and gown and tossed them into the hazard waste recycling. The orthopedic surgeon was a frequent partner in the ER, and when she asked, he didn’t hesitate to lend his skills for Delaney.
“Thank you, again.” She tossed her gloves and gown, too. She followed him to the sinks in the washroom.
The tall man pushed back his dark hair. “Call me for the next one. I don’t have time to chase all the contacts. It’s easier when you do.”
“I don’t have time either.” She scrubbed beside him, lips quirking. “I just have people behind me.” Hunt. Doogie. Elizabeth. Mackey. Even Quaid, when he wasn’t off on some shadow errand.
Swami eyed her. “I trust that. You’ve built something solid.”
She contemplated a second. “Ever think about contracting with QM? Orthopedics would be a gift to this program.”
“I might. Send me details.”
“Consider it done. This was excellent work.”
“Felt good,” he admitted. “I’ll check him in rounds later.”
“That works. I’ll see you in a couple days.”
Alone, Cait finished with her hands, then waved to her operating crew on the way out. In the locker room, she shed scrubs and pulled on navy blue pinstriped slacks and a white shirt. She took a moment to tame her hair and refresh hermakeup. Under the fluorescent light, her wedding glow had dimmed.
In the elevator, she typed a Christmas to-do list on her phone. She refused to let the calendar win. Honeymoon or not, she was going to get her door wreath hung, her tree decorated, Hunt’s presents wrapped, and cookies made.
Stepping into the emergency room, she walked into bedlam and almost turned around.
“Dr. Hunter?” Bets eased next to her, a frown on her face.
“I’m not on, Bets. I’m leaving.”
“How did Mr. Delaney’s surgery go?”
“Perfect. Fingers crossed we get results.”
The noise of the ER settled to a dull roar. Damn flu, December’s curse.
“You have a visitor.”
At a loss, she picked someone. “My husband?” Unless he’d ditched the new team members mid-drill, he wasn’t her visitor.
Her friend shook her head. “I would have sent him back. No, it’s a young woman. She says she has a message for you.” Bets raised her hands in surrender. “Don’t ask me. You want to talk to her or not?”
Cait contemplated her grocery pickup, her decorating plans, the chaos at QM, and her plans to extend the honeymoon and talk Hunt out of date night and his clothes.
Did she want a message from anyone?
She pushed her hair back and sighed, aggravated with her service commitment and her curiosity. “Put her in the day room. I’ll be right there. But if she needs medical treatment, I’m passing her off.”
“Agreed.” Bets scooted to the next chore on her list.
Cait checked in with Dr. Day. He’d taken an interest in Delaney’s surgery. Finished, she made a beeline to the break room.
Frank tromped past her with a suspect and scanned the full waiting room. “Hell of a wedding reception, Doc. Back to work is no fun. Word is there’s something I might want eyes on?”
