Putting on that lab coat is the closest thing I’ve felt to being a doctor in a long time. It’s a good thing.
I think.
“She’s asking for you.” His voice is a somber hush as his eyes flicker to the closed doorway to our right before meeting mine. Ivy is in that room speaking with the police psychologist.
“For me?” I ask, surprised Ivy would even remember me. The poor little girl has been through hell and back, I should be the last thing she remembers.
He nods. “She’s been stirring for the past week, signs here and there, but she woke late this morning. She was confused and agitated, but once she understood what happened, she calmed some.”
I hate that I’m just finding out about this now and thankful I’m finding out about it at all.
It had to be a big, scary place to wake up in when the last time you were conscious you were bleeding and hurting while people were shouting orders and things were being poked and prodded into your body.
“Is it really the best idea for the police to be in there questioning her so soon?” I ask in that same hushed murmur.
“Shouldn’t that make you happy, Slade? Her answers to their questions are what might get you back in that coat permanently.”
“Of course that’s important to me, but her well-being is what’s paramount.”
He nods as he stares at me, those dark eyes of his studying me intently. “By looking at the notes in her chart, she seems to be doing as well as can be expected after being out for a month. She’s apt to be a little fuzzy on some things, stiff muscles, you know the drill”—he waves his hand in my direction—“but she’s young, and her arm still having to be in a cast, her body has healed during the time. For the most part, it seems all signs are hinting that she’s going to make a full recovery.”
A similar sense of relief to the one I felt when I’d heard she’d woken up floods me. She’s talking, her vitals are strong, and it seems as if there’s no long-term damage. Thank god.
“That’s great news, sir. The outcome could have been so much worse.” A silence settles between us as a nurse walks by, and he steps backward into a small alcove off the main floor. I follow. “Is there something else?”
“Ivy is busy telling the police about how her father did this to her. And not just this once, but numerous times. For a little girl, she has quite an incredible memory.”
My stomach churns, but this isn’t news to me. I knew it in my gut the minute that son of a bitch strolled in here that night with his arrogant attitude, indifference to his own child, and the blood caked on his knuckles.
I nod. It’s all I can do because it’s taking me a minute to process everything. The bastard father. The sweet, battered little girl. That I was in the right—and sure, I always knew I was in the right, but there were moments in the middle of the night when I wondered if I was wrong. If I had overstepped when I prevented her father from being in the room with her. If I had ruined my career.
“I don’t know what to say,” I finally murmur and run a hand through my hair. “I’m at a loss.”
“This isn’t my department,” he says, “but I’m here because of the consequences and how they might affect one of my most talented residents.” He shakes his head with a drawn-out sigh. “She asked for you because she said she remembered you telling her she was safe with you.” When he looks back to me, his eyes have tears welling in them just as mine do. We both blink them away, and he clears his throat. “While I can’t condone what you did and how you went about doing it, I can tell you that it definitely made its mark. That’s something we all strive to do and often fail. Congratulations, Dr. Henderson, not only on being reinstated but also on being the type of doctor we need more of. One who cares about the patient’s well-being more than they do their own self.”
“Thank you, sir,” I manage to say around the emotion clogging my throat.
“And let’s make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he adds with a chuckle before patting me on the back. “You’re cleared to go in and see her when the police come out.”
“What happens next?” I ask, the question broad.
“The father rots in jail—hopefully, she goes on to live a gloriously happy life, and you become a highly regarded cardiothoracic surgeon.” He shrugs as if it’s without question.
“Nothing’s ever that easy.”
“Let’s hope this was your difficult part and from here on out is smooth sailing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Call me when you’re done and let me know what happens. I have to get back to my patients.”
“Will do,” I say as I pat my pocket and realize my phone isn’t there. My mind and emotions are on overload, so who knows where I left it.
And, honestly, who cares? This moment is so much greater than anything I’ve done thus far in my career. I’ve been reinstated. She’s awake.
As much as it feels as if a huge burden has just been lifted off my shoulders, the weight of the moment is still crushing.
Ivy is in there, giving the police information to put her dad away for a long time.
She asked for me. She said I made her feel safe.
Blowing out a breath, I Iean back against the wall and pat for my phone again. My first instinct is to tell Blakely. Not my parents or John, Prisha, and Leigh . . . but Blakely.
The door beside me swings open, and a woman walks out.
