Heart Like Mine Read online

  “I know.” He yawned inadvertently.

  “Here.” Millie leaned down, reaching for Kaya. “Give me this child, and you go drink that coffee. Then maybe I’ll let you near the patients. No zombie docs walking the halls on my watch.”

  He handed Kaya gently to her, trying not to jostle the little girl awake, then leaned back in the chair to stretch.

  “Oh. One more thing.” Millie turned back from the doorway. “Therese just took an interesting call for you. Somebody from finance.”

  Josh felt his eyes widen. Calls from finance were never good news. “What about?”

  “No idea.” She shrugged. “You know Therese. She’ll want to tell you herself.”

  As Millie headed down the hallway, Josh smiled, despite a sudden edginess. Oh, he knew Therese, all right. She was the ward secretary, which meant she had her pulse on every phone call and document that passed through the floor. She maintained the schedules, she decided which patients got which rooms, and she decided which staff members got to eat lunch—and when. Her level of control over pediatrics was monumental, but Josh had learned quickly that though she was as tough as nails on the outside, she had a heart of gold.

  That’s why she had fresh flowers on her desk every Monday morning, courtesy of an autodelivery he’d set up his first month at Mercy. He had her birthday on his calendar, and he made sure his friend Josie helped him pick out just the right present for any occasion that required gift giving.

  And that is why he generally got to eat lunch … sometimes.

  He took a deep breath, pushing out of the rocking chair. He paused in the doorway, sighing as he looked toward the nurses’ station. The hallway was an absolute anthill of ordered yet frenzied activity, and he wasn’t at all sure he was ready to deal with the day.

  But he had to. They were already short on doctors, short on nurses … short on everything.

  Yes, it looked like Tuesday was shaping up to be a no-lunch day.

  The finance office would have to wait.

  * * *

  Six hours later, Josh was walking by the nurses’ station on his way to a patient room when Therese leaned over the counter and waved him down. “Dr. Mackenzie, when you have a second, I need to go over some things with you.”

  He looked at his watch as he stopped and turned back. Christ—how had it turned into afternoon already? His stomach growled, and he realized he hadn’t eaten since inhaling a bowl of microwaved oatmeal in the break room at seven thirty this morning.

  “I’ll make a deal with you, Therese. If you can score me a sandwich, I’ll be your slave.”

  She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Already got me a slave at home. I just need some signatures right now.”

  She handed a signature pad across the counter, turning her computer screen so he could see what he was signing off on. As he clicked through orders for therapies and meds, she shuffled some message slips. All hospital messaging was computerized these days, but since Josh never had time to actually sit down in his office, they’d resorted to the old-fashioned pink-slip method as a backup.

  “Want the rundown?” She held the stack up, fanning them out like playing cards.

  “Lay ’em on me.”

  “Dr. Peterson needs a callback on Ian. Radiology results are in on the little guy in Room 4, and Sasha’s got a spinal tap scheduled tomorrow.”

  Josh cringed. “She’s not going to be happy about that. Can you make sure one of the child life specialists is on hand for her?”

  “Already put her on the schedule.”

  “Thank you.” He handed the signature pad back to her. “So, no on the sandwich?”

  “Sorry. You’re on your own. Already got you coffee today.”

  He smiled, turning toward his office. Before he hit another patient room, he needed something in his stomach. Maybe he had a package of peanut butter crackers stowed in a desk drawer or something.

  However, before he’d taken three steps, Therese’s voice stopped him. “Oh, one more message. Delaney Blair from finance wants a meeting.”

  Josh felt his eyebrows furrow. He knew the name, but couldn’t place the face. This must be the call Millie had told him about this morning.

  “What does she want?”

  “She wouldn’t say.”

  He took the pink slip with Delaney’s office extension on it. “I’ll give her a ring later.”

  “She’s called twice already today. Sounds like it might be important.”

  He sighed as he headed back to his office and closed the door. He looked at the chair behind his desk, tempted to try to snatch a five-minute catnap. Then he glanced through the window out to the hallway, and discarded the thought.

  They had kids on chemo, kids with isolation infections, and kids whose home-care regimens weren’t up to snuff anymore. There were kids with mito disorders, digestive disorders, and anorexia … kids with surgery tomorrow, surgery yesterday, surgery this morning.

  Nurses buzzed around, doing their level best to keep the chaos under control, but as he watched through the window, he knew he had to find a way to get more staff on board.

  Maybe that’s what this Delaney Blair wanted to talk about—giving him more staff.

  Right.

  He looked at the slip in his hand, then wrinkled it up and tossed it toward the wastebasket. He didn’t have time to go up to the executive floor and hear some song and dance about doing more with less, or new directions, or supporting the hospital’s mission.

  Yes, if someone from the hallowed halls of finance wanted to talk, it couldn’t be good. He sighed as he looked out at the busy hallway, then back at a desk piled with paperwork he’d never get to.

  If Delaney Blair wanted a meeting, then she could come find him.

  * * *

  “You’re just going to have to go down there, Delaney.” Megan propped a hip on Delaney’s desk two days later. Delaney envied her assistant’s long skirt, gypsy earrings, and long, loose cotton blouse. In college, she’d have topped it off with a head scarf and combat boots, but for the workplace, she’d gone with her standard-issue leather sandals.

  Delaney looked down at her own outfit and wondered when she’d turned into a toned-down version of her country club mother. Her neatly ironed blouse was set off by a perfectly matched skirt and jacket, and as she fingered the pearls at her throat, she sighed. Then she let her eyes coast down her calves, down to the Jimmy Choos she’d bought just last month. It was her splurge, her bow to girliness and inappropriate spending, and damn, she loved these shoes.

  She really did need to ditch the pearls, though.

  “I can’t just go down there, Megan.” Delaney felt a tingle at the base of her neck, just thinking of walking onto the pediatric floor. No, she definitely couldn’t go down there.

  “Well, he’s obviously not coming to you.”

  “How can he just ignore my messages like this? It’s downright rude.”

  “Or he’s downright busy. Have you seen the bed count on pediatrics this week?”

  “No.” Delaney cringed. It wasn’t the kind of thing she kept track of on a daily basis.

  “There is always the possibility that he’s not intentionally ignoring you. Just saying.”

  “I’ll check.” Delaney clicked into the system that listed current inpatient numbers. When she got to the pediatric floor, her eyes widened. “Holy—”

  “Exactly.” Megan raised her eyebrows.

  “We don’t even have that many pediatric beds.”

  “I know. They had to move a couple of the teenagers up to adult floors to make space.”

  Delaney clicked back through the past month, and the patient counts went up and down a little bit, but not much.

  “I’m just saying—this could be why Dr. Mackenzie hasn’t called back.” Megan leaned close to Delaney and plucked open her top button. “Which means you, third floor, this afternoon. He’s clearly isn’t coming to you.”

  Delaney felt the chills creep down her spine. She had never
actually been on Mercy’s pediatric floor—had never been on any pediatric floor—not since Parker had died.

  “Delaney? You okay?” Megan’s brow creased as she studied Delaney’s face. “You are six shades of white, girl. Does talking to non-executive-suite people make you this scared?”

  “No.” Delaney’s voice came out in a whisper.

  “Oh.” Megan’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, God. I’m sorry.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Delaney nodded slowly. “It’s okay. It’s been—a long time since he died. Not like you would think of it.”

  “But I should have. I’m really sorry.” Megan tried to look into her eyes, but Delaney’s felt all shifty. “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “No, Meg. I don’t want to go at all.”

  “But—”

  “I know. He’s not coming to me.” She took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. Maybe it wouldn’t be horrible. Maybe she wouldn’t melt into a panic-puddle at the elevator doors. Maybe she wouldn’t see Parker everywhere she looked.

  Maybe pigs flew.

  She looked left, looked right, picked up a pile of papers on her desk, put them back down three inches from their original spot when she noticed her hands were shaking.

  Dammit.

  She had a job to do, and in order to do that job, she needed Dr. Mackenzie’s cooperation. And in order to get his cooperation, apparently she was going to have to hunt the man down on his own turf.

  She took a deep breath. She had to just—go. Get in that elevator, punch the three, and brace herself.

  “I’ll be okay. I will.” She stood up.

  “You’re going now?”

  “I have to.” Delaney put a hand on her stomach, trying to hold in the grasshoppers she pictured trying to body-slam their way out. “I’ve got a deadline. Dr. Mackenzie’s not really giving me a choice.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to come?”

  Delaney smiled at her, but it was forced, and she knew Megan could see right through her. “The executive suite already takes enough crap for being disconnected from the realities of everyday life at Mercy. I probably shouldn’t risk people thinking I need an escort to find my way to the third floor.”

  “I’m your assistant, though. It would look completely normal for me to come with you—to take notes, or whatever.”

  “I appreciate it. Really. But I need to go by myself. I should have done it long ago. I’ll be fine.”

  Megan didn’t comment—just sent her eyebrows upward.

  “Okay, I won’t be fine. I’ll survive. Better?”

  “More honest, at least. Yes.” Megan pulled Delaney’s notebook from her desk. “Do you have your list of target cuts?”

  “I thought we decided I would play nice for the first meeting.”

  “That was our strategy three days ago, honey. We’re running out of time for nice. You’re going to have to go for broke, I’m afraid.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Delaney held her breath as the elevator descended to the third floor. As it sank by the fourth floor, she rebuttoned her top button, which kept popping open. No way was she resorting to Megan’s tactics, at least not this early in the process.

  When the door opened, she paused, her breaths suddenly coming too fast. The tingly feeling seeped up her spine again, and she was sorely tempted to press the Close Door button and try again later.

  Every day when she came to work, she parked in the employee lot, walked a quarter mile across visitor lots, strolled through the lobby, and pressed the top-floor button inside the elevator. Never in five years had she done anything but coast by the third floor on her way up or down.

  Unfortunately, she had no idea whether she could do it today.

  Finally, she made herself step out, but jumped nervously when the elevator doors swished closed behind her. She took three steps, locking her hands together to prevent herself from turning around to press the Up button. The wall ahead of her was painted with colorful jungle animals, and red, green, and yellow stripes ran along the floors.

  She had a sudden vision of Parker on a tricycle, madly pedaling along a green stripe like this one, then falling off when he ran out of breath.

  Delaney swallowed, looking left and right, trying to push Parker to the back of her mind. Which way was Dr. Mackenzie’s office?

  As far as she could tell, a group of offices and conference rooms occupied the center of the wing, with patient rooms running down the left and right hallways. The floors were polished to a high sheen, and as she stood there, she was struck by the ceaseless motion everywhere.

  Nurses in colorful scrubs practically flew in and out of patient rooms, and Delaney spotted a small herd of med students looking like they were trying to appear official-ish. Their brand-new white coats were a dead giveaway, though.

  Her dad had told her so many stories over the years about his surgical residents that she knew she’d never trust one with her own health. Every July, she did her best not to hurt herself or get sick, knowing every hospital in the United States was full of brand-new residents with lots of book knowledge but absolutely no patient smarts.

  These guys looked no different. As she walked down the hallway, an officious-looking nurse put a hand on each of their arms and pointed them toward a conference room. “If you’re going to look useless, do it somewhere where we can’t see you.”

  Delaney winced even as she felt a small smile creep up. Apparently her father wasn’t the only one who hated July.

  Then the nurse turned and spotted her, and Delaney could swear her lips tightened. She was a dead ringer for Betty White—without the sweet smile. “Help you?” she asked, but her posture said she might … or might not.

  “Yes, thanks.” Delaney tried to employ just the right amount of confidence and warmth in her tone. “I’m Delaney Blair. I’m looking for Dr. Mackenzie.”

  The nurse narrowed her eyes, and Delaney hitched her shaky chin up a notch. “You from the finance office?”

  “Yes.” She put out her hand, and the nurse shook it firmly.

  “Millie Swan. I think he’s in his office.” She pointed down the hallway. “Third door on the left.”

  “Thank you.”

  Delaney started walking toward the office, but stopped when the nurse continued. “We’ve got a floor full of really sick kids today. Appreciate it if you’d keep it short.”

  Delaney nodded slowly, put firmly in her place before she’d even started. “I’ll—do my best.”

  When she got to Dr. Mackenzie’s door, it was partially open, but he was bent over a pile of paperwork on his desk, so he didn’t immediately see her.

  Good thing, since her lower jaw had just opened of its own accord.

  At Megan’s urging, she’d checked out his hospital profile this morning, but his official ID pic had nothing on the real-life man. His dark, dark hair was neatly trimmed, but a perfect stubble colored his cheeks. When he sent a frustrated hand through his hair, she swallowed involuntarily. With a just-right sprinkling of dark hair and strong, sinewy forearm muscles, she could imagine those hands doing—God—any number of things.

  Looking at him in a smoky-blue Oxford that she’d be willing to bet matched his eyes, she was suddenly convinced that the Fates hated her. She’d dealt with a gazillion doddery, old, crotchety doctors during her tenure here at Mercy, but the first time she got paired with one she could imagine—gulp—in bed, she had to tell him she was about to make his life a living hell.

  Chapter 3

  Josh heard heels clicking down the hallway, and his gut clenched. The nurses on this floor favored shoes that made soft, shuffling sounds as they cruised through the hallways. These, on the other hand, sounded like the kind of heels more suited to the carpeted executive suite. Had Delaney Blair finally given up on waiting for him? Was she here to read him the riot act for tossing her messages?

  He was in no mood to talk about finances today. Check that—he wa
s in no mood to talk about them any day, especially with somebody who sat up in a windowed office and crunched numbers while the real work got done on the other five floors of the hospital. The only reason anybody from finance ever showed up on a patient floor was to tell you what you were doing wrong … or to tell you they were taking something away.

  Or both.

  The heels slowed outside his door, but he didn’t look up. Passive-aggressive parry number one. Maybe he hadn’t been at this game for long, but he already had some moves. He was busy, dammit. She could wait.

  And then she knocked, but it wasn’t the authoritative, I’m-from-finance-so-show-some-respect sound he expected. Rather, it was almost tentative. And then a soft voice followed.

  “Dr. Mackenzie?”

  He looked up. Framed in the doorway was a woman in her late twenties or early thirties—he couldn’t quite tell. She had wavy brown hair that fell just past her shoulders, and her body was trapped in a suit-type thing that marked her as a sixth-floor tenant even more than the sound of her shoes.

  Before he’d heard those heels—which, now that he checked, were black, high, and sexy as hell—he’d expected Delaney Blair to be some old biddy with geriatric shoes and a pantsuit that was too tight in all the wrong places.

  Sometimes it was good to be dead wrong.

  He stood up and put out his hand. “You must be Ms. Blair.”

  She shook his hand, and he noted the just-right, just-long-enough grip. He also noted that there was nothing sparkling on her left hand, then shook his head internally, cursing himself for looking.

  She smiled. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’ve left a couple of messages, but I wasn’t sure whether you’d gotten them.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You’ve left six messages, and yes, I got them.”

  “Oh. But you decided—not to answer them?”

  He pointed at the piles on his desk. “Just haven’t had time. Sorry.”

  “May I sit? Do you have a moment?”

  He nodded, then watched as she folded herself gracefully into his guest chair. She tucked her hair behind one tiny ear, but a stubborn strand quickly escaped, and he found himself almost reaching out to fix it. As she adjusted herself and pulled a small pile of folders out of her bag, he took a deep breath, pulling a notepad out from under one of the many piles on his desk. Delaney Blair looked like she meant business, and he’d better pretend he wasn’t too tired to do the same.