“Mrs. Chapman?”
The woman, who appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties, rose from the chair she was sitting in. “Yes?”
He held out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Dr. Nadeen. I was assigned your husband’s case.”
She bobbed her head and took a step forward. “How is he?”
“Your husband experienced a severe myocardial infarction.” At her blank look, he replied, “A heart attack.”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe it. He’s had some high cholesterol, but he’s been running every day. I was only ten minutes from here dropping the boys off at school, and I told them I bet their dad had fallen and broken his ankle or something. Of course, I wondered why he wouldn’t call instead of the hospital…” Realizing she was rambling, her voice cut off. Her hand hovered over her throat. “But he’s okay now?”
Pesh shook his head. “I’m very sorry, but the heart attack caused too much damage to the heart. We were never able to revive him after he was brought in.”
The woman’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “No, no, NO! Surely there is something you can do!”
“I’m so very sorry. We did everything we could to save him, including multiple attempts of resuscitation past what the paramedics originally did, but he did not respond to our attempts.”
The woman’s wail pierced through to Pesh’s soul. She collapsed back against her sons, who now had tears in their eyes. Stoic on the outside, Pesh stood by her side as she sobbed uncontrollably. Most doctors when playing the Grim Reaper would deliver the bad news and then retreat. Pesh believed that part of a patient’s care also meant the care of their family. That’s why he ignored his pager going off in his pocket. It was only when his name was paged over the intercom that he took a step forward. He placed a hand on the widow’s shoulder. “If you would like to be with him until the funeral home arrives, you can follow me.”
“Y-Yes, please,” she murmured.
With her sons flanking her, she followed Pesh out of the room and behind the mechanized doors. When they got to the exam room where her husband’s body was, Pesh turned and once again touched her shoulder. “I’m so very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” her son mumbled when his mother was unable to speak. Instead, she rushed forward to bury her head against her husband’s chest. Her body shook with her sobs.
Pesh nodded and then finally turned away. With determined steps, he answered his page—some sort of consult on a diagnosis. After his input, this patient would pull through. It was the true embodiment of the dichotomy of his job.
Once he finished, Pesh went over to the office area of the emergency room. He eased down onto a stool, placing his head in his hands. As he rubbed his eyes, he swore they were moist from overuse, not from the potential tears welling behind them. If there was one thing he was, it was a professional. Doctors had to be emotionally detached when they were doing their job, or they would lose their minds. But it wasn’t staying detached in the moment that was the issue—it was the aftermath. The agonizing moments when the adrenaline stores depleted, and his sagging body seemed to shoulder the hysteria, the panic, the grief, and the heartbreak of the family.
He didn’t know how long he remained like that, head in his hands, tuning out the noises humming around him. When he felt a tap on his shoulder, he jerked around.
It was Kristi, a charge nurse and one of his most trusted coworkers. She smiled warmly at him as if she knew the inner turmoil he was in. “Dr. Nadeen, I hate to interrupt, but you have a visitor.”
“Oh?”
Kristi nodded. “Exam room D.”
“Thank you.”
When Pesh pushed open the door, he couldn’t help the surprise that filled him. With her auburn hair pulled into a loose knot and her emerald eyes glittering with happiness, Emma Harrison Fitzgerald, stood before him with her six-month-old son balanced on her hip. “Hi. I hope I’m not interrupting you.”
A rush of pure love entered his chest at the sight of her. Nine months ago he would have confused the feeling with amorous love, but now he knew the difference. He loved her only as a friend. “Hello to you, too. It’s so good to see you.” His brows furrowed as his mind wondered why she was here in the ER. “You’re okay, aren’t you?”
“Oh, I’m perfectly well. It’s just—”
Pesh’s gaze dropped to the strawberry-blond haired boy sucking voraciously on a pacifier. “Noah’s fine, isn’t he?”
Emma smiled. “He’s perfect.”
Pesh exhaled the anxious breath he’d been holding. “I’m glad to hear that. You both look well.”
“Thank you.” Emma surveyed him and frowned. “I wish I could say the same for you. What’s wrong?”
“Just a tough day.” Even with Emma’s expectant expression, he didn’t want to elaborate. Gazing down at his hands, he finally responded, “I held a man’s heart in my hands this morning .”
Emma’s eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath. “Oh my God…”
He shook his head with regret. “But no matter how hard I tried, I still couldn’t save him.”
She reached out to rub his arm. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Thank you,” he murmured. Since he was ready to change the subject before his emotions overcame him again, he motioned for her to have a seat. “So, what brings you here?”
“I have a favor to ask of you.”
His brows rose in surprise. “You do? Another flight for Aidan perhaps?”
Emma laughed. “No. I think it’ll be a long, long time before he ever gets in a small plane again.” As Noah began to squirm, she shifted him from her lap to her shoulder. He spit out his pacifier and started to fuss.
“Here. Let me,” Pesh suggested, bending over to take Noah into his arms. Noah’s surprised blue eyes met his, and then he smiled at Pesh. “Hello, little one. My, how you’ve grown since I saw you last.”
Noah cooed and reached for Pesh’s stethoscope. “You were saying?” he questioned Emma.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, considering you’re not Catholic, but I was wondering if you would be Noah’s godfather?”
Pesh couldn’t hold back his surprise, and his mouth dropped open in shock. “You’re serious?”
Emma nodded. “Since I’m not Catholic, I’m basically humoring Aidan’s father by having a baptism for Noah. You remember him?”
Pesh laughed. “How could I ever forget Mr. Fitzgerald, the matchmaker?”
Emma smiled. “That’s right. Well, you can understand how persistent he is.”
“Oh yes, I do.”
“We’re allowed one Catholic and one non-Catholic godparent. We’ve chosen Aidan’s niece as godmother, and then I wanted you.”
“But what about your good friend?”
“Connor?”
“Yes, him.”
Emma waved a dismissive hand. “Besides the fact that Connor is a non-practicing Baptist, he’s refused on the grounds he doesn’t want to have any moral or religious responsibility for Noah.” She grinned and shook her head. “While he and Casey were obvious choices, let’s just say they’re looking forward to corrupting Noah, rather than guiding him on a spiritual path.”
Pesh smiled. “I see.”
Emma’s auburn brows knitted together in worry. “I hope you’re not offended that I told you that. I don’t want you to think you were a second best choice. When I thought of someone to protect and guide Noah, you were one of the first people to pop into my mind.”
Pesh worked to free his stethoscope from Noah’s mouth. “And what does Aidan say about this?” He knew that although he and Aidan had come to some sort of friendship on the night of Noah’s birth, he couldn’t imagine, as possessive as Aidan was, that he would want a potential ex-flame of Emma’s having a major part in his son’s life.