Practicing Partners (Maiden’s Bay #2)

Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

brAN RAN NEXT to Aubrie along the dirt drive toward the house. The young man was faster than either of them, gunning to the left as they neared the front porch. A garden of leafy greens and tomatoes sat to the side of the house, four boxes neatly soiled and cared for.

A gray-haired woman slumped on the ground between two of the boxes, holding a fist to her chest.

“My goodness.” Aubrie dropped to the ground next to the woman and opened the duffel bag.

Bran’s breathing from the running was fast, but the sight of the woman in cardiac distress tightened his chest. His face felt on fire, and he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.

“I take it this is Grace Donchik?” Aubrie looked up at the young man, a thin guy wearing cargo pants and a sweater one size too big with the sleeves rolled up.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you are?”

“Tim. Timothy Donchik.”

“Okay, Tim. I’m Doctor Turnbridge, and this is Doctor Jackson. We were sent on a house call by her doctor, Doc Bernie. Can you tell us what happened?” Aubrie grabbed the stethoscope, eyeing Bran. He stood frozen, his breath uncatchable.

“I’m visiting for a few days, and she asked me to help with the garden. She was fine for maybe ten minutes, and then….” He shrugged. “She just yelled out and rolled on her back.”

Aubrie changed the position of the scope from the woman’s back to the chest. “How long ago?”

“Couldn’t have been a minute before you arrived. I was running to the house to call for help when I saw your car pull up.”

“Bran? Wanna help here? Take blood pressure?” Aubrie stared, but Bran barely registered. The woman’s face morphed right in front of him, a heftier, younger woman. The white house and garden vanished, replaced by the tile floor of the diner, the glossy menus, and smell of burnt coffee. Screaming out, a man holding him back, others hovering over the limp body.

The hallucination sucked out the last bit of air in his lungs. His legs buckled, and he fell to the ground, his name a muffled shout in the distance.

It must’ve only been for a few seconds.

He opened his eyes, blinking away the blackness.

The young man’s fingers pressed against Bran’s neck.

“What—what are you doing?” He swatted Tim’s hand off of him.

“We lost you there,” Aubrie said.

“Sorry. I’m okay.” He sat up, head pounding and mouth dry.

“Tim, why don’t you get him a glass of juice? Or soda? Something with some sugar in it.”

Tim nodded and ran off.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Just give me a minute. How’s our patient?”

Mrs. Donchik still clutched her chest, but her breathing leveled out since their arrival.

“She needs to get to a hospital,” Aubrie said. “At least have an EKG, Echo.”

“Is she stable enough to move her?”

“Are you stable enough to help move her?” The worry in Aubrie’s eyes killed Bran. It was embarrassing, fainting like that. It had been a while since the last time he was reminded of her, of seeing what he had seen, and it overtook him.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

Tim appeared with a glass of orange juice.

“Drink it,” Aubrie ordered.

“I’m not diabetic or anything.” He took the glass anyway, seeing as his mouth felt like it was cracking under its parchment. That and not wanting to fight Aubrie over a glass of orange juice.

“Tim, your grandmother really needs to go to a hospital. There’s not much here we can do to help her, and I’m afraid she’ll have another spell sooner rather than later.”

Tim nodded. “Should I call an ambulance?”

Bran stood, legs a little shaky, but he did his best to hide it from Aubrie. “By the time they get here and take her back to a hospital, we could’ve done it ourselves.”

“I can drive, then.” Tim asserted himself with a nod. “Where to?”

Bran eyed Aubrie, but then remembered he was the local expert here. She wouldn’t know what was closest or best for Mrs. Donchik, who now sat upright, having her back lightly rubbed by Aubrie.

Bran weighed the options. They could drive an hour back to the west, to take her to White Bend Hospital, but they didn’t exactly have a stellar cardiac unit. Even though the alternative turned his stomach, it was the best option.

“Seattle University Hospital. It’s half an hour’s drive longer than going to White Bend, but they have one of the best cardiology teams in the country.”

“Can you stand?” Aubrie helped Mrs. Donchik to her feet. Once there, the patient gained her confidence back.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mrs. Donchik said. Her voice was shaky, but held an authority to it. “Tim and I are going to finish with the gardening.”

“Gram, these doctors—”

“I don’t care what these doctors say.” She wriggled out of Aubrie’s loose grip.

Tim approached her, stopping directly in front of her. “Gram, listen to me. I just witnessed you buckle over, not being able to get back up. You couldn’t stand, walk, or communicate with me. Now, I don’t even like digging the soil for the seeds. Do you think I want to have to dig your grave?”

Bran eyed Aubrie. You never knew who or what could reach a stubborn patient, but he hoped for Mrs. Donchik’s sake, it was her grandson.

“We’re going to take you to get tested. If you’re fine, we’ll be right back. If there’s a problem, then it’s about time we get it fixed.”

Tim and Mrs. Donchik faced off in what looked like a staring contest. A power of wills.

Mrs. Donchik pursed her lips together. A menacing look, Bran would give her that.

Tim didn’t back down. Bran felt a hint of pride for the kid, though he had only just met him. And something else—a longing, or a sadness. Would there be anyone in Bran’s life to do the same for him when he was older?

“Fine,” she said. “But the lady doctor rides with us. I don’t trust this one with a pet bunny.”

Bran sighed with relief. “I’ll follow behind you.”

“I don’t think so.” Aubrie glared at him. “You just stay put.”

“Excuse me?” Bran set aside his astonishment at her assertiveness to help Mrs. Donchik in the back seat of the car.

Aubrie buckled the woman up and closed the door. She faced Bran and took out her pen light.

“Oh, please.” He deflected with his hands.

“Don’t be a baby.” She looked at his pupils, then checked his pulse.

“You want to take my blood pressure, too? Check my ears?”

“This isn’t funny. You passed out.”

“I fainted, and barely. It’s not a big deal.”

Aubrie stepped closer, close enough to catch the floral aroma of her hair. Hyacinth? Rose water? He had never been great at distinguishing such smells. He just knew it was pleasant and dizzying.

“Taking a lesson in stubbornness from Missus Donchik, are we?”

“No, that’s not—”

“Then tell me what happened back there,” she said. “And not something like you locked your knees by accident for too long. The truth.”

Bran took a deep breath, contemplating how much to tell her. It had been years since he last spoke of it. Heck, he barely spoke about it after it happened. Although he didn’t know Aubrie for long, something told him to tell the truth, to let it out. Something other than Aubrie’s orders. He looked around to see if Tim was in earshot, but he had moved to the driver’s side of the car and started it up.

“My mother,” Bran said. “I was there when she had a heart attack. One that she never recovered from.”

Aubrie’s shoulders slumped, her defiance softening. “And this brought that all back?”

Bran nodded. “I was eight at the time. Not exactly something I wanted to see, or should’ve seen. We were just out for breakfast, me and her.” He couldn’t stop his lips from moving, stop the words spewing out. “She was sitting across from me in the booth, and I had asked if she could sit next to me instead. The air conditioning was freezing, and—” The lump in his throat grew. “She got up, and I remember hearing the silverware clink from her hand gripping the table. And then she was on the floor.”

Aubrie reached out to his arm with the slightest touch. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Of course not.” His face scrunched in a wince. “Not many people do. It’s my fault, really. It’s not something that ever feels appropriate to bring up in conversation.”

“I get it,” Aubrie said. “I really do.”

Bran nodded. “The irony is that she’s the reason I got into medicine in the first place. Yet I can’t handle seeing patients with heart conditions, apparently.”

Aubrie smiled mildly, withdrawing the comforting hand. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Bran wanted to hug her, hold her, do something.

Tim stuck his head out of the car window, eyeing them.

“We’d better go,” Bran said.

“Yeah.” Aubrie snapped back to the health emergency at present. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

“It’d be better than riding in their car. Poor Tim would have to look over two patients.” He managed an awkward chuckle.

Aubrie reluctantly agreed with a nod. “You’ll tell me if you feel dizzy or sick?”

Bran crossed his heart. “Promise.”

Aubrie got in the back with Mrs. Donchik, and Bran walked around to the driver’s side.

“You know where you’re going?”

Tim gave a thumbs up.

“All right. I’ll be right behind you. Doctor Turnbridge here has my cell in case you need me. Otherwise, I’ll see you there.”

Bran returned to his car and reversed out of the long dirt drive, back to the road. He waited for Tim’s car to take the lead, then followed him.

He turned on the heater, not realizing he had been sweating, the dampness in his clothes chilling his skin. He had been honest with Aubrie. His mother’s death wasn’t something he talked about with anyone. Not his brother. Not even his dad. Or especially his dad. There was always a piece of him that thought Dad blamed him for her death. As if an eight year old could and would purposely cause his mother to have a heart attack. It was just another reason why he and his father didn’t tend to get along.

It didn’t help that Dad remarried in what felt like record time. As if Mom’s life, Mom’s devotion to him, meant nothing upon her death.

But Bran vowed to help other people. He didn’t want other eight-year-olds to go through what he did. He chose to specialize in the field that saw the worst, most gruesome and damaging injuries. The ones that usually came out of nowhere, that took people by surprise but didn’t take their lives. Because he was there to help them.

He hadn’t told a soul why he had—not his family, friends. Not even in an admissions essay to get into school. Until today.

Until Aubrie.

He turned the radio on, as if tuning to a station would tune out the thoughts of Aubrie. She had the ability to get the truth out of him, to open him up like cracking an egg, a swift flow of information running out of his mouth. What was it about her that got to him?

As much as he didn’t want to linger on thoughts of Aubrie, he certainly didn’t want to think about where they were headed. Yes, Seattle University Hospital was the best place in the western half of the United States, if not the entirety of it, for Mrs. Donchik to be examined for her condition. It was also the place he wasn’t supposed to be. But he was bringing a patient who was obviously in need of care. What were they going to do?

The thoughts—of Aubrie, of returning to the hospital, of Doc Bernie’s practice—they all jumbled into a worry soup, churning his gut and causing the onslaught of a headache. He decided to focus on the car in front of him, a maroon Chevy Cavalier with two holes of rust above the Washington State license plate.

His gaze wandered up to the back window, the silhouette of Aubrie next to Mrs. Donchik. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have another incident in the car. Judging by Aubrie’s concern, the woman’s condition was serious. Aubrie hadn’t freaked out or warned Tim how bad it could be but simply stated they needed to go to the hospital. The longer he was around her, the more he saw she was a good doctor. And a good person.

There you go again. Thinking of Aubrie.

As they cruised along I-5, his nerves wavering more, his cell phone rang. Aubrie. He answered through the dashboard monitor.

“Hey, I just wanted to run it by you. Tim was going to drop me off with Missus Donchik and park so we can get her checked in right away. But I didn’t know if you wanted to come in with us, if you think that will make a difference?”

It will make a difference all right. Just not the kind Aubrie was thinking of.

“No, that’s fine. You go ahead in with her, get the process started. I’ll make a call and let cardiology know the situation.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

It probably did sound good, and best case scenario, Mrs. Donchik would be seen, they’d discover what was causing her issue, and they’d come up with a plan to treat it. Worst case scenario looked much uglier.

He put the greater odds toward the worst case scenario. There was no way of knowing for sure, but he was about to find out.