The Children's Ward Read online

  “A disparate group,” Quinn commented.

  “But with one point in common; none of them have responded to customary treatments.” He turned to face her. “By removing them from the traditional hospital setting, we might be able to determine if outside factors are complicating their ailments.”

  “Outside factors?”

  “The sights, sounds, and smells of a hospital can be disturbing even to healthy adults. To a sick child, the sound of someone moaning in the night can be terrifying.” He paused. “By controlling the stimuli, we might be able to control the response.”

  “It’s an interesting thought.”

  “We’re going to do a full work-up on each of them, although they all have had extensive diagnostic work in the past, and see if we can’t find some answers. The answers may be unconventional, but my contention is that you treat the child rather the disease.”

  Quinn nodded. “I certainly agree with that. I’ve treated children who had come to refer to themselves by their diagnoses. Ask their name and they tell you their medical history.”

  “Medicine does have a way of depersonalizing the patient…”

  The phone rang.

  “Medicine beckons,” Joshua said, crossing the room to answer the call.

  While he talked, Quinn went to the window, looking out, as he had done, on the children’s ward.

  It was the most secluded of the buildings and the only other building which housed patients; the remaining structures were used for laboratories, offices, and research facilities.

  As she watched, a volunteer pushing a wheelchair passed along a path which ran parallel to the main building before branching off toward the ward.

  In the wheelchair, a girl with long black hair rested, eyes closed, her hand held tightly by a well-dressed woman who walked alongside. The woman carried a large stuffed koala bear and a spotted giraffe. Every few steps she leaned over and apparently whispered to the child.

  Following behind was a man dressed in blue jeans and a red-checked shirt. A leather headband held back his shoulder-length black hair.

  “That’s Tessi.” Joshua Fuller had come up beside her. “And her parents.”

  The girl and her entourage disappeared behind a group of trees.

  “I have to go over to the administrator’s office to sign the application forms for another research grant and then we’ll go over to the ward. Why don’t you go down to the switchboard and pick up a pager? In a facility this size, it’s a vital piece of equipment and things may get a little chaotic this afternoon…”

  “I handle chaos very well,” Quinn said matter-of-factly.

  He laughed. “Then you’re qualified for this job.”

  Four

  The nurse stood, blocking the doors to the ward. “Afternoon visiting hours don’t start until one p.m.,” she said.

  “You don’t understand,” Alicia Vincent said with infinite patience. “My daughter is only ten years old; she needs her mother with her.”

  “There are other patients in the ward, Mrs. Vincent…”

  “Ms. Vincent.”

  “Ms. Vincent…I can’t allow you to disturb them. I believe one of the children is sleeping.”

  “I’ll be very quiet.” Her smile was frigid.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Perhaps you should page Dr. Fuller…”

  The man, who had been standing silently, took a step forward. “Alicia, the nurse is only doing her job.”

  “Even if I wanted your advice,” she said, not looking at him and speaking slowly, “I wouldn’t ask for it.”

  “Your husband is right,” the nurse began.

  “He isn’t my husband. We’re divorced.” She smoothed her ash blond hair with a manicured hand. “Regardless, I would very much appreciate it if you would call Dr. Fuller because I am certain he would authorize my request.”

  “If you would like to contact Dr. Fuller,” the nurse countered, “and get his permission for special visiting privileges, starting tomorrow, please do. For today, I am going to have to enforce the rules: visiting hours begin at one.”

  “Thank you,” the man said, gripping his former wife’s arm and propelling her toward the door. “We’ll be back at one.”

  “Don’t you ever touch me,” Alicia huffed after they were outside, pulling her arm from his grasp.

  “There was no cause for that little scene in there.”

  “Tessi needs me and I want to be with her.”

  “You want, that’s the operative phrase, you want. Our daughter is very ill. Why don’t you think of her instead of yourself?”

  “I am thinking of her.” Her eyes narrowed. “You might think of her yourself the next time you decide to drag her off into the wilderness to be next to nature.”

  “A ranch in New Mexico is hardly…”

  “Ranch? You call that hovel a ranch? Ha!”

  “It’s better for her than a third-floor apartment in Los Angeles with winos and addicts wandering the streets.”

  “I live,” she said through clenched teeth, “in a very exclusive complex…”

  “I know all about where you live, Alicia. How does Tessi fit into that rarefied atmosphere? All chrome and glass, and no substance…”

  “The only substance you understand is dirt. . .”

  “At least it’s real.”

  “Oh, it’s real, all right, no one can deny that. It’s all over the floors, the windows…I don’t know how Tessi stands it when she’s living with you.”

  “Why don’t you ask her? It’s her heritage, to be among living things…”

  “Like you, Little Wolf?” Her eyes glittered with malice.

  “I am half Apache.”

  “Half savage…you embrace a culture that died before you were born and you want my daughter to run wild like an animal.”

  “You found that very attractive once,” he commented.

  “I was little more than a child myself—”

  “You,” he said, “were never a child.”

  She stared at him. “I think it’s time I went back to court and eliminated this joint custody arrangement. You endangered your own daughter’s life by living so far from medical help…I think it’s about time I put a stop to your negligence.” She spun and strode angrily back toward the main hospital.

  “Try it,” he called, raising his voice for the first time. “Try it.”

  Five

  Abigail watched as Tessi arranged the koala bear and the giraffe on either side of her, then lay very still between them, eyes closed and hands folded across her stomach.

  Abigail had never seen anyone who looked as exotic as Tessi. Her black hair was fanned out across the pillow like fine-spun silk and her skin was a rosy golden color that reminded Abigail of the peaches her grandmother bought each summer.

  Even more exotic were the tiny earrings that Tessi wore.

  Her grandmother said that jewelry was a demonstration of vanity and that pierced ears were “foolish nonsense.” Abigail had accepted that, as she accepted almost everything her grandmother told her, as fact. But looking at the tiny silver and turquoise earrings, she felt a vague stirring of doubt.

  She was startled to see that Tessi was crying. Tears ran down into her glossy black hair and her mouth trembled as she wept.

  Abigail could not recall ever having cried, although she’d been told she was a fussy baby. It was not the type of behavior that her grandmother would tolerate, but even more, she doubted that crying served any purpose except perhaps to make another person feel guilty.

  That didn’t explain Tessi, though. She looked past Tessi to where Russell slept peacefully. Neither she nor Russell had any cause to feel guilty; Russell had slept through Tessi’s arrival and Abigail had only said hello when the nurse introduced them.

  It was sad, watching her cry, but fascinating too. The tears appeared to follow the same path, one after the other. Tessi’s hair must have been quite wet by now, she thought.

  Gradually the tears sto
pped and her breathing slowed. Abigail waited until she was certain that Tessi was asleep before she allowed her own eyes to close.

  It had been a long morning. It was very hard to believe that such a short time ago she’d been at home in Baltimore. She knew that she should be homesick but she was not. The house, her room, her grandmother…

  Grandmother had put her in a taxi for the ride to the airport, claiming that she was not well enough to come along.

  “Remember your manners,” Grandmother said, her face stern. “Don’t be giving the doctors a bad time.”

  “I won’t,” Abigail said.

  “They’re going to an awful lot of trouble on your behalf…” The look on her face was clearly disapproving. “Don’t add to it.”

  Abigail had been relieved when the taxi drove away.

  Whether or not the doctors could make her better…she had gotten away.

  Six

  In his dream, Russell ran.

  He could feel the muscles in his legs ache but he continued on, not wanting to stop. Not ever. Heart racing and lungs straining, he started up the slight incline at the west end of their property line, across the asphalt roadway, and beyond.

  There was no sound at all as he ran, not even the sound of his own breathing.

  He saw no one.

  Time seemed to pass quickly, as daylight faded and night came on, the moon lighting his way. The cooler air filled his lungs and cleared his head.

  He was lighter than the air itself as he ran over the countryside.

  Just as quickly, morning came, its pale light growing in intensity. Ahead, still distant, he could see a deserted beach, white sand shimmering in waves of heat.

  He could feel sweat dripping down his face stinging his eyes. His back had begun to ache.

  But it was not much farther to the water.

  He ran across the sand, struggling now for every step, the sand pulling at his legs, threatening to pitch him headlong down the beach. It burned the soles of his feet and now he could see, glinting in the sun, shards of glass and broken bottles with jagged edges.

  Clouds swept in from out at sea; black swirling clouds which blocked out the sun.

  The water.

  He had to reach the water. His legs did not want to work but he knew—had always known— he had to keep running.

  The clouds dropped down to the ground and he could no longer see where he was going.

  But now he could hear it, the sound of the surf crashing on the shore. It was straight ahead and coming closer with every agonizing step.

  Then…he was airborne, falling through the thick clouds which parted finally, and he saw that he had run off a cliff, and that below were the rocks.

  It was happening for a second time.

  He fell to the ground…

  Seven

  “Joshua, wait up.” Simon Harrington, M.D., did not quicken his pace, relying on Joshua’s good nature which would require him to stop and wait for his elders.

  “It’s been a morning,” Joshua said as Simon came up beside him.

  “As always. Today’s the big day, isn’t it?”

  Joshua nodded. “Three of the kids are in already…”

  “I can guess which one isn’t.” He snorted. “If either of them had a lick of common sense, they’d leave Courtney behind when they get an uncontrollable urge to jet-set.”

  “Or they might attempt to control the urge and stay home with her,” Joshua suggested.

  “Not a chance.” He cast a sidelong glance at the younger man. “I understand Dr. Logan arrived this morning.”

  “Yes…I gather she drove all night to get here.”

  “I love dedication in a young doctor. I was very impressed with her at her interview.” He cleared his throat. “As I recall, she’s what we used to call a ‘dish.’ “

  Joshua smiled. “She’s very attractive.”

  “That’s all you have to say?”

  “I’m not a poet, Simon.”

  “What am I going to do with you? You have no romance in your soul.”

  “You have enough for both of us.” He stopped in the hallway. “Isn’t your office in the west wing?”

  “I thought I’d come along with you and welcome our new doctor to the fold.”

  “Simon…behave yourself.”

  “I’ll remind you that you’re talking to the chief of staff.”

  Joshua bowed slightly. “I’ll try to show the proper respect.”

  “Dr. Logan,” Simon said, taking Quinn’s hand in both of his. “Good to see you again.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Harrington…”

  “Call me Simon,” he said, still holding her hand. “I heard that you had an offer from Pete Doyle at Stanford.” He smiled broadly. “Stanford’s loss is quite obviously our gain.”

  “I’m very glad to be here.”

  Joshua made a point of looking at his watch. “We’d better get over to the ward,” he said.

  Simon arched an eyebrow. “We’ll talk later, then,” he said to Quinn, releasing her hand.

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  As Joshua passed him on the way out of the office, Simon whispered: “Eyes the color of smoke and don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

  “Later, Simon.”

  Eight

  “Dr. Fuller, I’m glad you’re here,” the nurse said as they came in. “Russell awoke from a nightmare a little while ago and he’s in a lot of pain.”

  “Have you…”

  She held out a syringe. “He wouldn’t take it from me.”

  “Russell,” Joshua said, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed and encircling the boy’s wrist with his hand, finding a pulse.

  Russell’s color was ashen and a sheen of perspiration covered his face. His chest rose erratically as he labored to breathe. His eyes opened slightly and he turned to look at Joshua. He attempted to smile but it was more of a grimace.

  “It hurts,” he whispered.

  “Let me give you something for the pain,” Joshua said.

  “What is it?” He licked his lips and swallowed hard.

  “Demerol and Vistaril.”

  “I’ve had that before…” He struggled to open his eyes wider. “It made me dizzy.”

  “You don’t look like you’re feeling too good now.”

  The corners of Russell’s mouth twitched and he laughed, a short soft sound that conveyed the measure of his pain. “Promise me I won’t get addicted.”

  “I promise,” Joshua said solemnly.

  Russell allowed his eyes to close. “Just this one time,” he said.

  Joshua drew the curtain around Russell’s bed. The boy had fallen into an exhausted sleep as the medication freed him from his pain. He took the chart that the nurse held out to him and made a notation before turning to Quinn.

  “It’s times like this when I wonder if there is a God,” he said quietly, but his eyes were angry.

  “Abigail, this is Dr. Logan. She’s going to be your doctor too.”

  “Hello, Abigail,” Quinn said.

  “Hello.” She looked from Joshua to Quinn and then back again. “Is Russell going to be all right?”

  “I think so,” Joshua said.

  “Good.”

  “How are you feeling?” Quinn asked, moving to the side of the bed and placing her hand on Abigail’s forehead. The chart indicated that the child’s temperature was normal but Quinn’s purpose had less to do with vital signs than a desire to make contact. It was physical contact that mattered, that was essential for forming and maintaining a bond between doctor and patient, particularly with children.

  “I had a headache earlier but it went away.” Abigail’s brown eyes watched her.

  “It went away by itself?”

  “Sometimes they do that,” Abigail said patiently. She looked at Joshua. “It’s in my history.”

  “Dr. Logan hasn’t had a chance to read all of the chart yet,” Joshua said. “It’s a pretty thick chart.”

  Qui
nn thought she detected a look of satisfaction in Abigail’s eyes. “Tell us about this headache.”

  “It started behind my eye, like a sharp pain.” She squinted in her effort to recall. “My vision was a little blurred but I didn’t feel sick at my stomach…then I laid down and it went away after a while.”

  “How do you feel right now?” Joshua asked. “Good enough for me to draw your blood?”

  In answer, Abigail withdrew her right arm from under the covers, and extended it by her side. She watched steadily as he wiped her arm with an alcohol swab, watching still as the needle penetrated her skin. She did not flinch.

  The glass tube filled with blood and he removed it, handing it to Quinn who handed him a second, slightly larger one. When he was done he released the tourniquet and withdrew the needle, placing a cotton ball over the puncture wound and positioning her arm to apply pressure.

  “Thank you,” she said primly. “That didn’t hurt at all.”

  “I’m glad. Do you have any questions?”

  She shook her head. “I’m going to have an EEG this afternoon and a brain scan tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’ve had them before,” she commented.

  “Then on Wednesday, you’re scheduled for a scan in our magnetic resonance imaging system, which you haven’t had before, but I don’t want you to worry about it. It doesn’t hurt at all.”

  “I’m not worried,” she assured him.

  Tessi watched the blood pressure cuff as it expanded around her arm, clearly concerned. Only when Joshua released the pressure valve and allowed the cuff to deflate did she raise her eyes to his.

  He winked.

  “Almost normal,” he said, removing the stethoscope from his ears. “How do you feel?”

  Tessi frowned. “My stomach hurts.”

  “Have you eaten anything today?”

  “I started to…but…”

  “But?”

  “My Dad came to the motel room and mother got upset.” Her dark eyes glistened. “The food got cold.”

  “It’s a little early, but I can order lunch for you right now if you think eating something might settle your stomach.”