Waiting Is The Hardest Part
Chapter 19
"That's like the fifth time you've checked your phone in the last 45 minutes, Bos," Faith pointed out to him as he tucked the phone back up under the sun visor.
Bosco nodded impatiently. "Yeah, thanks for the scorekeeping," he said grumpily.
"This I didn't miss," she said to him, looking out the side window. She also didn't see him reach for his portable radio microphone.
"55-David, Central," he said into the microphone.
Faith scanned the streets around the area they were cruising through. "What do you see?" she asked him, unable to spot anything out of the ordinary.
"Go, 55-David," replied the dispatcher before she could get an answer from Bosco.
"Are you holding any messages for this unit?" he asked. Faith rolled her eyes, but held her tongue. She knew he was worried about being this far away from Jennifer and the kids for the first time – despite all the people up at home looking after her.
"Negative, David. We have the instructions from Lieutenant," the dispatcher advised him.
"Yeah, 10-4, Central," Bosco replied and clipped the microphone back onto his vest.
"Bos. She's fine. You've gotta try and relax," Faith told him.
"I'm relaxed," he said unconvincingly, earning a stare from Faith.
"I am," he protested as the radio crackled to life. "Thank God!" Bosco said, grateful for a distraction.
They listened to the call and Bosco swung the car around to the right direction as Faith flipped on the lights and siren.
"Yeah, thank God, a domestic dispute," Faith said with disgust as she was drowned out by the siren and the sound of the engine being gunned. She couldn't help but notice the slight grin on Bosco's face. She knew he'd missed the action, no matter how much he said he didn't.
Jennifer had just finished accompanying a patient from the E.R. to the operating room. She watched for a little while from the observation area. She missed it – a lot.
She was leaving the operating room suite on her way back to the E.R. when she ran into Dr. Samuels coming out of the stairwell.
"Jennifer! Good to see you. You're looking well. Not overdoing it, I trust," he said in his usually jovial voice.
"Roger," she acknowledged. "I'm feeling well and no, I'm not overdoing it. In fact, I feel like I'm underdoing it – if that's really a word."
"Only when referring to my wife's cooking," he replied sarcastically. "Now, let's not rush things. Don't want to come back all the way too soon. We talked about this," he reminded her.
"No, I believe that you and my..., Maurice made that decision," she reminded him, tripping over the word 'husband.'
"Your husband's voice bore no weight with Administration here, Jennifer," he told her. "We all just want to make sure that you get the best possible result and are able to come back all the way without having a setback," Roger Samuels retorted.
Jennifer walked over to look out the window. Dr. Samuels slowly followed her. "How are things going at home?"
"Great," she said, unable to hide the sarcasm in her voice. "There's a man in my house that I barely know, who is the father of my son, and step-father to my daughter – the daughter of my dead husband," she finished, taking a deep breath as she turned to face him.
Dr. Samuels put a calming hand on her arm. "I'm sorry," she said, letting out the breath that she was apparently holding.
"Nothing to be sorry about. I'm sure it's a very difficult situation. Has there been any memories coming back yet?" he asked her.
Jennifer thought back to last night when she'd seen him cleaning the gun and the fear she felt from the memory was fresh in her chest again. Then she thought of their kiss during the night and she softened – fresh tears stinging her eyes at the frustration of wanting her memory back. "Bits and pieces. Nothing I've been able to piece together yet," she confided. "But, I do feel trust of him," she said, not sure what made her realize that feeling just now.
"Well, that's a start," Dr. Samuels told her. "He's at home with the kids?"
"No. Actually, he went back to work today," she said, looking at her watch. "He'll be there in the City until the weekend," she told him, noting by the time that he was well into his shift. She was surprised he hadn't called her yet.
"Good. Maybe getting back to a regular routine will help. Do you have any help at home?" he asked.
"I don't need help at home. I'm not an invalid," she said with agitation. "I'm sorry. I'm fine at home, but my sister's ready to help out. All I have to do is say the word."
"I'm sure you are fine," he told her, as he heard his name being paged to one of the floors and her pager sounded, indicating that there was a trauma case coming into the E.R.
"Ahhh, our public beckons for us," he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Chin up! My door is always open," he reminded her as he headed off down the hallway and she waved as she headed through the door to the stairwell leading to the E.R.
"Okay, give it to me," Jennifer said, arriving in the E.R. and noticing a larger than normal number of staff assembling. That meant one of two things – either there was more than one patient or it was a member of the emergency services – a firefighter, police officer or EMS personnel – coming through the door at any moment.
She couldn't explain it, but she had a tight, nervous feeling in her chest that only tightened more when she was told that paramedics were bringing in a wounded police officer.
"A policeman with a gunshot wound from a shot fired while he was driving by an abandoned building. He crashed the police car. Paramedics say he's unconscious with a gunshot to the left shoulder and a probable fracture to his right leg. Also, possible abdominal wound – maybe spleen," the nurse that took the radio call relayed.
The description of the wounds only heightened her anxiety, although she couldn't say just why. "How far out?" she asked instead as she put on a gown, face shield and gloves.
"Mmm, about 3 minutes by now," the nurse told her. She didn't notice the lull in the action at first, but then noticed that many of them seemed to be looking at her.
"Dr. Boscorelli?" the nurse repeated.
"Um, yes, Linda?" she replied quickly, realizing they were looking to her to start them off.
"You want us to start like usual?" Linda asked.
"That's the protocol," Jennifer replied nonchalantly, walking toward the entrance to the E.R. to wait with the rest of the initial trauma personnel, while those assigned to set things up went about their tasks.
As she approached the door, it opened automatically and she was thankful for the crisp breeze that assaulted her as she walked out into the ambulance bay. She heard the sound of the approaching siren. Funny how the sound of the siren seemed to adapt to the urgency of the approaching patient, she thought.
A moment later, the ambulance pulled up and the back doors flew open. Jennifer saw it out of the corner of her eye, but went about her business as the onslaught of police officers began to inundate the emergency area.
The patient was removed from the ambulance and every available hand went to work on the trauma assessment. Jennifer glanced at the face and form of the wounded officer and drew in a sharp breath.
TBC...
