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“There’s nothing you can do.” He shook his head. “But Brandon and little Ebenezer are blessed to have you watching over them.”

“I’m the one who’s blessed. I have a wonderful husband whose family loves me and this baby coming. I have you and Tim and Aunt Tessie will be home soon. What more could I want?”

Ana Dolores Ram'irez—Ana Dolores Ram'irez, M.D.—tossed a newspaper off the only comfortable chair in the gray, dingy break room and fell into it. After taking a drink of her cold coffee, she leaned back, almost asleep.

What an evening: a terrible accident on I-35, and a fire in a crowded restaurant, all that in addition to the normal everyday emergencies like broken bones, ODs and injuries from gang and domestic violence. Why had she ever thought she wanted to work in an emergency room?

Well, yes, she knew. She loved the excitement, the challenge, the urgency to save people, the fight against death, bringing healing from tumult and despair.

Another reason was the memory of the doctors who had worked so hard to save her leg and the staff in the E.R. who had saved her mother’s life.

“It’s harder than it looks, isn’t it?” Dr. Leslie Harmon, the Director of Emergency Services, entered the lounge.

Ana yawned. “Why are you here so late?”

“I was called in when the cases started to back up. I wanted to come in during a busy stretch on this shift to evaluate how the E.R. staff handles a heavy load.”

“How’d we do?”

“Very well.” Dr. Harmon rubbed her neck and rotated her shoulders. “I was particularly impressed with one of the CAs. The new guy—dark-haired, handsome kid—seemed really sharp. Who is he?”

Before she could reply, Ana’s pager went off. Checking the message, she pulled herself up with a groan. “Not a very long break, but I’ve got to go.” She gulped the last of her coffee and tossed the paper cup in the overflowing trash can as she headed back to the emergency room.

“What’s coming in?” Ana pushed through the swinging doors, instantly alert. Paramedics pushed gurneys into the hallway while a clerk wrote the names of the incoming patients on the large white board at the central desk and nurses began to take vitals. Instant activity and a huge increase in the noise level.

“Another traffic accident,” the new orderly said.

What was his name? She took a peek at his ID tag as she picked up a chart to make notes in. “Thanks, Fuller.” As Dr. Harmon had said, he seemed pretty bright. More than just a strong body to lift and position patients. Earlier tonight, he’d recognized the signs of shock and taken quick action, more like a paramedic. He’d also helped with triage, stepping in when he saw how thin the staff was stretched. His assessments hadn’t been perfect, but he’d done well enough with those minor cases. After she’d quickly doubled-checked his decisions, she’d been able to concentrate on major traumas.

As the injured were quickly evaluated and moved to treatment rooms, to surgery or to wait in the hall, Ana noticed a boy about six years old standing by one of the gurneys. The woman on the gurney was pale, her eyes closed. Blood stained the bandages the EMTs had applied to her forehead and chest.

When his mother’s gurney was pulled into a cubicle, the boy grabbed the side of it and ran to keep up. “Mama,” he sobbed.

“Fuller,” Ana called.

After he pushed a gurney against the wall, Mike hurried over to where Dr. Ram'irez stood next a gurney with a little boy hanging on to it.

“This kid came in with a family from an accident. Please take care of him.”

“What? Babysit?” He didn’t remember that on the job description. His duties were all medical and nursing.

“We need to keep him away from his mother until we can stabilize her. Find the paramedics. Ask them if he has family here or if there’s someone coming to pick him.”

“Shouldn’t social services—”

“Yes, they should and they usually do take care of the children of our patients, but they’re backed up and shorthanded. Can’t be here for a couple of hours. I need to treat his mother now. I’d appreciate your handling this.”

While Mike watched and wondered what he should do next, she bent her knees to be on the child’s level. “My name’s Ana. What’s your name?”

The child studied her solemnly. “Stevie.”

“Well, Stevie, because your mommy was in an accident, we need to patch her up a little. I promise we’ll take very good care of her.” Gesturing toward Mike, she added, “This young man is going to keep you company while we do that. Okay?”

Then she stood and turned back toward the trauma room.

What was he going to do? Mike gulped as he watched her walk away. Saying “no” wasn’t an option. “But, Dr. Ram'irez, I don’t know anything about children,” he protested.

“Do it,” she said in the clear, firm voice Mike figured no one ignored. “Please.”

He turned and started toward the boy as Dr. Ram'irez entered a cubicle.

No one, not even lowly orderlies, ignored Dr. Ram'irez’s voice when it got that certain tone. For that reason, yes, he was going to look after the boy even though, no, he didn’t know anything about children.

The boy slumped, his spine curved in exhaustion, but still he kept a tight hold on the gurney that held his mother.

The sight of the child broke Mike’s heart. Even worse, he had no idea of what to do. Mike squatted so he was on the same level as the boy’s sad eyes. “Hi, Stevie. Where’s your family?”

The child shook with sobs and clung more tightly to the gurney.

That had gone really well. Trying again, Mike took the child’s hand from the rail and held it although the boy fought to put it back. Was this the right thing to do?

“The doctors need to take care of your mother, buddy,” Mike explained calmly. “They can’t get around very well with you here.”

The child looked at his hand in Mike’s then glanced up. “Is she going to be okay?”

“These are the best doctors in the world. They’re going to do everything they can to make sure she’s all right, but they need enough room to do that.”

The boy nodded and stopped his efforts to pull his hand from Mike’s.

Mike wiped the child’s eyes and nose as he stuffed a handful of tissues in the kid’s free hand. “Well, Stevie, do you want to thank the paramedics who helped you? They’re really cool guys.” When the boy didn’t resist, Mike led him into the hall.