LITMIR.BIZ

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her weeping. “He just keeps crying and crying. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” she murmured.

      “There now, I’m sure it’s nothing you’re doing wrong,” Elana said firmly. “What’s your name? Do you mind if I hold him for a minute?”

      Letting out a loud sniffle, the young woman handed the baby over. “I’m Lacey, and his name is Tucker. He’s seven weeks old.”

      “Hi, Tucker,” Elana crooned, gently nuzzling the baby, testing the temperature of his skin. He did feel warm, but that could just as easily be because of the crying. She loved babies, another reason she volunteered her time here. Giving him one last nuzzle, she laid him on the exam table and undid his diaper, looking for obvious signs of irritation, like diaper rash, before using her stethoscope to listen to his heart and lungs.

      Not an easy task while he was crying.

      “Are you breast-feeding?” Elana asked, her heart going out to the waif-thin girl. The baby sounded a bit congested, but it could be merely the result of his non-stop crying. His ears didn’t look red, ruling out an ear infection.

      “No. We give him whatever formula is on sale at the store,” Lacey admitted.

      “That might be your problem,” Elana said gently. “Colicky babies don’t tolerate dairy-based formula, and you should really stick to one brand. I want you to try the soy-based formula, and nothing else. I’ll give you some free samples here.”

      “Are you sure it’s nothing more serious?” Lacey asked, swiping her nose on her sleeve. The motion pushed up the sleeve of her shirt, revealing a few bloody cuts on her forearm. As if she sensed Elana’s gaze, she quickly covered the area back up again. “I can’t believe Tucker is crying this much just because of colic.”

      Elana wanted to ask about the suspicious marks she saw on Lacey’s arm, but at the moment little Tucker was her primary concern. “Don’t underestimate colic, Lacey. I’ve seen many mothers reduced to tears over inconsolably crying babies. There are many ways to treat colic. First let me get a soy-based formula sample for you to try, okay?”

      Lacey sniffled again and nodded.

      “I’ll be right back.” Elana handed her the baby and hurried over to their jam-packed supply cabinet and found a six-pack of soy-based cans of formula and a disposable bottle. After quickly preparing the bottle, she brought it back to the exam room.

      “Here, see if he’ll take this,” she instructed.

      Lacey held the baby in the crook of her arm and tried the bottle. At first Tucker sucked greedily, then, after a few minutes, he turned his head away and began crying again.

      “See how he’s hungry but then turns away? That’s another classic sign of colic, too much gas. We can give him some anti-gas medicine in an eyedropper that should work. And I will get Dr Jacoby to take a listen to him just to be sure there’s nothing else going on.” Elana hesitated and then carefully asked, “Do you have anyone to help you, Lacey? Or are you raising Tucker all alone?”

      Lacey shrugged, trying to get Tucker to take the bottle again. “Joel, the baby’s father, is trying to help me, but he can’t stand it when Tucker cries.”

      Oh, boy. Sounded like Joel and Lacey needed a lot of help. And she couldn’t dismiss those cuts on Lacey’s arms. She understood how hopelessness could suffocate your soul.

      “Lacey, I’m here for you. I’d like you to come back in two days and bring Joel with you. You both need to learn how to deal with a colicky baby. I’ve heard using a baby swing alongside a noisy vacuum cleaner works, and car rides. Once Tucker gets the dairy products out of his system and starts on the anti-gas medication, he should be better.”

      “Joel’s brother is a doctor, and even he thought there might be something more wrong with the baby,” Lacey said defensively.

      She frowned at Lacey’s tone. Did the poor girl feel as if she wasn’t a good mother because she couldn’t handle the baby’s crying? “Really? Is his brother a pediatric specialist?”

      “No, but Brock works in the emergency department at Trinity Medical Center.”

      Brock? Had she heard correctly? Her stomach clenched, and she forced herself to ask, “What’s Joel’s last name?”

      “Madison. Joel Madison.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      Later that day, Elana couldn’t stop thinking about Lacey’s plight. The cuts on that poor girl’s forearm haunted her. Lacey needed help. For herself and for her baby. More than just a quick clinic visit.

      No matter how much she wanted to stay far away from Brock, she simply couldn’t ignore her conscience. Lacey was obviously in serious trouble; the telltale cuts on her forearm were not to be taken lightly. And Tucker was Brock’s nephew. Hadn’t Brock mentioned that he’d moved home to deal with some family issues?

      There was no way around it. She needed to talk to Brock. To let him know her concerns about Lacey, Joel and their baby.

      When she arrived at work, she walked into the arena and was surprised to discover they were busier than usual for a Wednesday evening. Patients streamed in seemingly from nowhere.

      She couldn’t deny a hint of relief at the reprieve. There was no time to talk to anyone, not when so many patients were in need of assistance. She jumped into the fray, helping to move patients through the system. But just when they’d started to catch up, a local discount store reported a serious gas leak. Dozens of people flooded the ED to be ruled out for potential carbon monoxide poisoning.

      Luckily, most of the discount store patrons weren’t too sick, but each patient had to be registered, screened, treated and released, taking up a significant amount of time and energy. Elana had been pulled from the trauma bay to help, giving her what should have been a welcome break from working with Brock Madison.

      Except she still really needed to talk to him about Lacey. At least, that was what she told herself when she found she was constantly looking for him.

      “Do we have any more carbon monoxide poisoning cases left?” Raine asked, coming over to stand beside Elana, who was finishing up the charting on her soon-to-be-discharged patient. “Because if I don’t get a chance to eat something soon, I’m going to pass out myself.”

      “I don’t think so,” Elana said, glancing up at the central board listing the status of all their patients. “According to Stacey, we were expecting to see twenty-three patients, and I’m sure we’ve moved at least that many through already.”

      “I hope so,” Raine muttered with a low groan. “At least this influx of patients has made the shift go by fast.”

      “No kidding. Why don’t you take a break? I’ll cover for you,” Elana offered. “Then, when you’re finished, I’ll go.”

      “Thanks. Give me at least fifteen minutes.”

      “Take twenty,” Elana said generously. “We deserve it.”

      Even though the immediate urgency of the discount store gas leak had passed, there were still quite a few patients to see. Since the trauma bay was quiet, Elana continued to help out in the arena.

      When she nearly tripped over Brock, she realized Stacey had reassigned Brock to the arena too. Probably to help with the influx of patients.

      “Elana? Can you send a pregnancy test on the female patient in room two?” he asked.

      “Sure. Is she one of the carbon monoxide exposure patients?”

      He nodded. “She’s a bit worried she might be pregnant. ”

      Understandable. She hurried over to do what he’d asked. Unfortunately there wasn’t time to ask him about Lacey because her second patient began complaining of tight chest pain.

      “I

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