Chapter 21

“Welcome back.”

Eve blinked her eyes, trying to get the room and the form of the woman who just spoke to her into focus.  Where was she?  She sat up.   The rustle of paper used to line the hospital exam tables answered her question, while the familiar smell filled her nostrils.  Memories of this horrible morning came rushing at her like waters from a broken dam.  Julian! The thin paper beneath her crinkled all the more as she swung her legs off the table.  Her head swam and the room spun from the sudden motion.   She covered her eyes with her hand, waiting for the moment to pass.

A hand on her shoulder gently eased Eve back on the table.  “You need to take it easy,” said the woman, her tone caring but firm. 

Eve met the gaze of the pretty black woman in a long white coat.   Soft, brown locks framed her face and fell to her shoulders.  She seemed kind, but no-nonsense at the same time.  The woman may have had Eve’s best interests in mind, but Eve’s thoughts were elsewhere.  She returned to an upright position.  “I can’t rest now.  I need to see Julian.”

“Mr. Crane is still in surgery.”  The woman gave Eve’s hand a soothing caress.  “Don’t worry, he’s in wonderful hands,” she said with a dimpled smile.

“That’s what Sheridan said.”

“Sheridan’s smart.  I knew there was a reason I liked her,” the woman said with a laugh.   “I’m Dr. Harmon.  Ellen Harmon.”

“Oh, you’re his wife,” Eve said, lying down on the table.

Ellen nodded and her eyes shined with good-natured understanding.  “Yes, I am.  Matt can be a bit of a pill sometimes, but he’s a good man, and a very gifted surgeon.”  Eve rolled her eyes.  Of course she would think so.  As if reading her mind, Ellen added, “And I’m not just saying that because he’s my husband.”  Ellen pulled a pen from her pocket and grabbed the clipboard for the side table.  “So, how do you feel?”

“Besides worried?” 

“Have you had your vitamin this morning?” Ellen asked as she continued to scribble on the clipboard.

Eve’s eyes shot open.   She slowly eased upright.  “My vitamin?”

“Yes, your prenatal vitamin.”

“How did you--”

“I have three children, the symptoms are classic.”

“You didn’t tell Sheridan,” Eve hoped more than asked.

Ellen shook her head.  “No, I didn’t.  It’s not my place to tell Sheridan about your condition.  However, she is waiting outside and is quite concerned.”

Eve returned to a resting position on the table, sighing in relief.  “I’m sorry she’s worried, but I’ve only told one friend, and we need to tell my daughters and…”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“It’s a very complicated situation.”

Ellen lowered the clipboard to the exam table.  “I figured as much,” she said.  “But as complicated as the situation, and as worried about Mr. Crane as you are, you’re not doing him, yourself, or this baby much good by not taking care of yourself.  I’ll guess you haven’t eaten anything today.”

“No, I haven’t,” Eve answered.  “Julian was… He had gone out for breakfast when he came back suddenly and Rebecca--”  A knot of emotion squeezed her throat.  Eve brushed away her streaming tears with bloodstained hands.  “He forgot to say he loved me,” she said with a broken, humorless chuckle.  “That’s why he came back.  To say he loved me.”  Eve shook her head and dried the last of her tears.   “I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t be bothering you with my problems.”

“It’s not a bother.” Ellen placed her hand on Eve’s shoulder.  “Trust me, I totally understand complicated situations.”  Ellen sighed.  “Boy, do I understand them,” she murmured. 

Eve saw a story that could fill volumes in the doctor’s brown eyes.   She said nothing as she waited for Ellen to continue, but a quick breath and a tight smile signaled the end of Ellen’s sharing time.   Whatever this situation, she wasn’t intent on sharing details.   Ellen retrieved the clipboard and continued her questioning.

“I’m going to get your vitamin and something for you to eat,” Ellen said once all her questions were answered.   She handed Eve a pair of mint green scrubs.  “You take a shower and change into these.  After a shower, some food, and a couple of hours of sleep, you should feel a lot better.”

“No, I can’t sleep.”  Eve stepped off the exam table.  “I’ll take a shower, and I’ll eat, but I won’t be able to settle my mind enough to get any sleep.  I’m too worried about Julian.”

Ellen stopped jotting notes on the chart and dropped the ink pen into her pocket. “Dr. Russell,” she began with an unhappy frown. 

“Eve,” Eve returned, feeling a bit like a child about to admonished for a misdeed.

“Eve, I understand your concern for Mr. Crane, but how happy do you think he’ll be when he wakes up from his surgery to find you’re a patient in this hospital, too.   You might not be able to get sleep, but you definitely need to rest.  For your sake as well as your baby’s.”

“My baby.”  Eve pressed her hand to her belly.  The life she and Julian created with their love.  Dr. Harmon was right.  She definitely had to take better care of herself.  “Okay, I’ll try to get some sleep,” Eve said.  “Think you can bring the food to my office? I can shower and sleep there.”

Ellen nodded.  “Sure.  While you’re showering, I’ll also get an update on the surgery.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Ellen,” she said with a smile.  “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”   After walking halfway to the curtain of the cubicle, Ellen turned around.  “Oh, I’ll also let Sheridan know you’re okay, and you’ll be getting some rest for the next little while.  I won’t share any other details.”

“I would really appreciate that.   Thank you.”

“No problem.  Try not to worry.  Everything is going to be okay.”

Eve nodded as Ellen walked out the cubicle.   She returned her hand to her flat abdomen.   “Did you hear that?” she said to her unborn child.  “Everything is going to be okay.   You’re daddy is going to be okay.”  Eve squeezed her eyes tight, desperate to keep the tears burning for release to escape.   She so wanted to believe Ellen’s words, the words she just shared with her baby, but a nagging feeling in the back of her mind wouldn’t let her. 

***

Three hours later…

“I need some suction here!” Matt ordered.

“Yes, sir, doctor.”

As fast as the nurse cleared away the blood more flowed.  Matt grunted.  He already had about half a dozen clamps in use.  Extracting this bullet proved to be a far more difficult task than he expected.   Oh, but he loved a challenge.  He thrived under pressure, and this moment definitely fit the bill. 

Spending half your life in the Witness Protection Program running from your mobster father who ordered your brother put a bullet in your back had an amazing way of making one strong, and determined.  Many of the doctors at General Hospital didn’t think he could be a surgeon.   No way could a paraplegic be a successful doctor, much less a cardiothoracic surgeon.   He heard the same doubts when he entered medical school at Columbia before he finished at the top of his class.  He enjoyed proving everyone wrong.  

Ellen, his beautiful Ellen, believed in him, and she pushed him to be the best doctor he could be.    Winning her heart was his biggest challenge, but he succeeded there as well.  His wife and children made everything worthwhile. Matt knew some thought him conceited, but he was a great surgeon and a very lucky and happy man.   Considering all he had to overcome to get to this place, he didn’t think it boastful to believe in his talents and appreciate all he had in life.  

“Wipe, please,” Matt said.

The nurse mopped his forehead, halting the rolling trails of sweat threatening to drop into his eyes.  Three and a half hours into this scheduled three-hour surgery, the home stretch should have been approached and the finish line crossed.   Alas, that was not the case.  When Ellen called hours ago to check on progress, everything was going well, but over the course of the surgery, Julian’s vitals consistently dropped.    Having never lost a patient, Matt refused to let Julian Crane be his first.

Matt continued to work. Finally, he had the forceps around the bullet.  Moments after the mangled piece of steel met the bottom of the metal tray with a resounding clank, the machines monitoring Julian’s vital signs filled the room with beeps and rings.

“His blood pressure is ninety over sixty and dropping,” one nurse announced.

In the next moment another nurse reported Julian’s equally disturbing heart rate while the anesthesiologist shared his depleting oxygen levels. 

Shouting orders to the surgical team, Matt went about trying to contain Julian’s internal bleeding and stabilizing his erratic vitals.  Suddenly, the constant beeping of the machines became one long hum.   He’d heard that sound on the medical drama ER, but never in his operating room.  He glanced at the apparatus monitoring Julian’s heart rate as a flat line scrolled widthwise across the screen.  This could not be happening.   Julian Crane could not be dead.