Mercy

CHAPTER NINE

Michelle had just finished the paperwork to dismiss one of Dr. Landusky's patients and was sitting in his cubicle on the surgical floor of St. Claire Community Hospital, trying to summon up enough strength to finish dictating her charts. Nine were completed, and she only had two more to go. Most of the patients belonged to Landusky. She'd been taking calls for him for the past two weeks while he went on a whirlwind tour of Europe, but he would be back at work tomorrow, and Michelle would officially start her first vacation in so many years she couldn't remember the last one.

She couldn't go anywhere, though, until the charts were finished. And the mail. My God, there was a stack of unopened mail

she'd carried from her cubicle to Landusky's, and she vowed she wouldn't stop until she had sorted through it all. Exhausted,

she looked at her watch and groaned. She'd been on her feet since four-fifteen this morning. A ruptured spleen from a motorcycle accident had gotten her out of bed an hour earlier than usual-and it was now five o'clock in the evening. She propped her

elbows on the stack of charts she'd already dictated, rested her cheeks in the palms of her hands, and closed her eyes.

She was sound asleep thirty seconds later. Michelle had learned, while doing her residency, the benefits of catnaps. She had conditioned herself to sleep anywhere, anytime.

"Dr. Mike?"

She jerked awake. "Yes?"

"You need some caffeine," a nurse remarked as she walked past. "You want me to get you something to drink? You look

wiped out."

Michelle didn't hide her irritation. "Megan, you woke me up to tell me I looked tired?"

The nurse was a young, pretty woman, fresh out of school. She had been working at the hospital less than a week, but already

she knew everyone's name. She had just received notice that she'd passed her state boards. Nothing was going to bother her today, not even a surgeon glaring at her.

"I don't know how you can sleep like that. You were chatting on the phone just a minute ago, and then boom, you're drooling

on your charts and snoring."

Michelle shook her head. "I don't drool, and I don't snore."

"I'm going down to the cafeteria," Megan said. "Do you want me to get you something?"

"No, thanks. I'm on my way out the door. I've just got to finish going through the mail and I'm done."

An aide interrupted. "Dr. Mike?"

"Yes?"

"There's a delivery for you down in ER," she said. "I think you have to sign for it. It looks important," she added. "I hope you're

not getting sued."

"Dr. Mike hasn't been here long enough to get sued," Megan interjected.

"The messenger said the package is from a law firm in New Orleans, and he won't leave until he hands it over to you and gets your signature. What do you want me to tell him?"

"I'll be right there."

Michelle picked up the completed charts and put them in the out box. She left the two she still had to dictate on top of the stack

of mail, then took the stairs down to the emergency room. The messenger was nowhere in sight. The staff secretary spotted her and hurried over to hand her a large manila envelope. "Here's your package, Doctor. I knew you were busy, so I told the messenger I had the authority to sign your name for deliveries."

"Thanks, Elena."

She turned to go back up to the surgical floor, but Elena stopped her. "Don't thank me yet, Doctor. There was a bad wreck on Sunset, and the paramedics are bringing in a vanload of kids. They're two minutes out. We're going to need your help."

Michelle carried the large envelope with her into the doctors' lounge to get a Diet Coke. Then she returned to the nurses' station, sat down, and popped the lid on the beverage. She needed the caffeine to get her second wind, she decided. She put the can

down and reached for the envelope just as the door opened and a paramedic shouted for assistance.

"We've got a bleeder."

Michelle hit the ground running, the envelope all but forgotten.