Reunion in October (The Calendar Girls Book 2) (22 page)

Uh-oh. Her condition didn’t bode well. I’d have to go gently. I took another look at the patient information sheet to familiarize myself with her name, and my heart stopped.
Desiree Candolero
. Josh’s youngest sister.

I bent to get a closer look at the girl’s injuries, noted the same stains and scrapes on her palms as on her knees. “Desiree? It’s Dr. Florentino. What happened to you, sweetheart?”

Her head shot up, eyes shimmering with fear and regret. “Don’t tell my parents. Please.”

“Easy, Desi.” I placed a hand close enough to grab her should she try to leap from the exam table and take off on me. “Just talk to me, okay? What happened?”

“I was at a party.” She sniffed. “We were just goofing around, you know? Having a few drinks, listening to music.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“A couple of friends and me.”

“Any adults around? And by adults, I mean anyone over the age of...say...twenty-five?” I pulled out my penlight and checked her eyes, which were not only red-rimmed, but bloodshot and glassy.
A few drinks, my curvy butt
. Her breath reeked of alcohol and vomit, and the sickly sweet odor of marijuana clung to her tighter than the shiny dress.

“No. It was at a frat house.”

Terrific. The state university had a local campus two towns over. A lot of my college-age patients came from the frat houses where binge-drinking, illegal drugs, and stupid human tricks resulted in serious injuries on a regular basis. Why on earth would someone as smart as Desiree Candolero be hanging out with a bunch of baboons?

“Tell me exactly what happened, okay? I’m not going to judge or lecture—
yet
. What did you drink and how much?”

“Vodka, I think. It was in a flask.”

“A big flask or a little flask?”

“A little flask. But we kept refilling it.”

Great. Meaning, she could have been drinking arsenic and wouldn’t know. “Uh-huh. Did you do anything else?”

“No.”

The denial came a little too fast, and I cocked my head at the teen. “Desiree, it’s just you and me in this room. By law, I can’t tell your parents anything that you confide in me without your permission. But I need to know the truth if I’m going to give you proper treatment. So, let’s start over. Do you know what was in the flask?”

“At first, we had vodka and cranberry juice. I know because my friend, Casey, swiped the booze from her dad’s liquor shelf, and I bought the juice at 7-11.”

“After that?”

“After that, I had a couple of beers, and the next thing I know, someone was passing the flask around again.”

“And you didn’t think to ask what was in it, did you?”

“No.” Her cheeks bloomed rosy, and her voice grew husky—with shame, I hoped. “I was pretty well hammered by then.”

“What else did you do?”

“A little pot.”

“How much is a little?”

Whatever shame I’d imagined evaporated beneath the heat of her carefree attitude. “Like half a joint. Between three of us. No biggie.”

“And how’d you hit your head?”

“It was an accident. He didn’t mean it.”

Alarm bells rang in my brain. “He who?”

“Garrett D’Amico. He’s a senior at the university. We were sitting outside, on top of this stone wall near a rock garden. Just fooling around, you know? Just some kissing and stuff. But then he...” She stared at the floor. “...he stuck his hand inside my dress in front of everyone, and I panicked. I pushed him away, he pushed back, and I fell. I landed on my hands and knees on the rocks. When I went to get back up, it was dark, and I hit my head against the stone wall. That’s all it was. It wasn’t a big deal. He feels really bad about it. He even drove me here.”

I sighed. If I had a dime for every time a woman told me “it wasn’t a big deal” when a man pushed her or hit her or verbally abused her, I could fund the local battered women’s shelter for a decade. Now, Desiree Candolero was hero worshipping an idiot who not only put his hands on her; he compounded the danger by driving stoned and drunk.

For the moment, I didn’t reply. Seeing to her care took priority over the lecture she clearly needed to hear. A fantastic egg-sized lump had formed above her left eye.

“Let me get a better look at that kiss on your noggin,” I said and tilted her chin so her forehead caught the overhead lights. “You’ll need an icepack,” I decided. “Any other details you need to share with me? Did you pass out at all—even for a minute?”

“No.”

No. Succinct. To the point. And a total evasion. I looked her square in the eye, my expression piercing. “Anything you’re not telling me, Desi?”

She squirmed. “Not really. I got a little dizzy, but I didn’t black out. I swear! Although...” Her gaze shot past me to the counter where medical staples such as tongue depressors and cotton balls waited inside apothecary-style jars.

“Although...?” I prompted.

“I might need a...umm...” Her voice lowered to a hush. “...a pregnancy test.”

Oh, Jeez, Louise. “Have you taken a urine test? One of those over-the-counter ones?”

“No. I didn’t have any place I could do the test without someone nosy finding out.” She clutched my hands, her desperation nearly crushing my fingers. “You won’t tell anyone, will you? Not even Josh? Especially not Josh!”

A shiver of apprehension ran through me. Oh, boy. Legally, I couldn’t tell anyone about Desiree’s appearance here or the circumstances that brought her to me. Not unless she gave me written authorization to do so. But if she were my sister or my daughter, I’d certainly want to know.

“I’d like to recommend that you tell at least one adult in your family. And I’d be willing to stand beside you when you do so.”

“No!” She squeezed even harder. “My mom’ll kill me. She thinks I’m still just a dumb kid.”

You
are
still a dumb kid, I wanted to say. Instead, I pried my fingers from her grasp. “Let’s take this one step at a time, okay? How late are you?”

She waved a hand. “Oh, it’s cool. My parents think I’m sleeping over Casey’s house tonight.”

“No.” This was the way today’s teenager’s mind rambled? My heart wept for the future. “I meant, how
late
are you? When was your last menstrual period?”

“Oh! Right. Duh. I’m such a goof.” She rolled her eyes at me. “August third.”

In other words, she could already be as much as six weeks along and she was still drinking and partying. “Just out of curiosity,” I said with a casual air far from the distress shattering my insides, “if your parents think you’re sleeping at Casey’s, where were you really planning to spend the night?”

She dipped her head. “With Garrett.”

“Where is he now?”

“In the waiting room.”

Fabulous. Well, I’d have to find a way to keep these two from reuniting tonight. No way I would send her back into the arms of some lout who’d pushed her off a wall and bruised her a mere hour ago. I just needed more information for my arsenal first. “And what happened with Casey?”

“She told her mom she was sleeping at my house.”

“I take it she’s still at the frat house?”

“Uh-huh.” The panic returned in her widened eyes and blanched complexion. “But you can’t tell anyone. Casey will
kill
me if her parents find out. And they’ll tell
my
parents. Please. You can’t tell.”

I really resented the emotional blackmail, but she had my hands tied—even though I had already pulled my fingers out of her grasp. Desiree was legally considered an adult, and I couldn’t release any of her medical information to a parent, guardian, or significant other without her written authorization. Still, there had to be a way around the HIPAA guidelines that would allow me to protect this “adult” from making an impulsive, childish decision. First things first. I had to oust Sir Garrett the Cretin from our waiting room. “I’m going to get an icepack and a pregnancy test. Stay here until I get back.”

I stepped out of the room and signaled to Ana, who happened to be coming down the hall.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Keep an eye on the patient in this room, please. She’s in some trouble. I need to figure out how best to handle her case, and I don’t want her slipping out in the meantime.”

“You know her?”

I nodded, but said nothing more.

“Okay,” Ana replied with a shrug. “I can restock the crash cart right here.”

“Thanks.” Now what? I knew enough about confidentiality guidelines and the health information protection act to understand I couldn’t just call Mr. and Mrs. Candolero and say, “I know it’s three in the morning, but why don’t you two take a stroll around my E.R. for a little while? See what pops up...” Ditto for me calling Josh to tell him I was lonely and could use a spontaneous visit. And I had no guarantee the kid wouldn’t panic and take off for fear her friend or her parents might “kill” her if they found out where she was and why. Even with Ana stationed outside her exam room, if Desi hopped up and decided she wanted to go back to the frat house with drunken Garrett, I couldn’t legally stop her.

In that respect, though, luck was with me. When I peered through the double doors into the waiting room, I found no drunken escort anywhere in sight. Desi’s knight in tarnished armor had already ditched her.
Ah…young love
.

I quickly gathered the medical supplies I’d need, tossed them on a cart, and headed back to the exam room. Thank God, Desi sat exactly where I’d left her. I wheeled the cart closer to her. “First things first.” I set up the icepack and placed it gently over the knot on her forehead.

At first contact, she sucked in a sharp breath, and her body tensed.

“Sorry,” I murmured. “The sting will ease soon.” At least the icepack’s sting would. The blow to come...not so much.

“It’s okay,” she replied and pressed her hand to the pack to keep it in place. “Are you going to do the pregnancy test now?”

“Well, here’s the thing.” I pulled a pair of latex gloves from the box marked Medium. “I can draw blood now, but I won’t have the results right away.”

“Why not?” She actually looked disgruntled at the idea.

“Because it’s three in the morning, sweetheart, and you’re not a life-threatening case.”

“Isn’t there any way we can know now?”

“Yes. You can do a urine test. It’s not a hundred percent accurate, but the odds are better than guessing. And we’ll confirm with a blood test in the morning.”

She dropped the pack from her head and gripped the edges of the exam table. “Can we do it now? Please?”

I reached into my cart and pulled out a home pregnancy test still in the box. “The bathroom’s down the hall.” Gripping her upper arm, I helped her off the table. “Come on. I’ll walk you down there.” When she stood beside me, I received my first real glimpse at the skimpiness of her outfit. If her skirt were any shorter, I could give her a pelvic exam.

“Oh, you don’t have to walk with me.”

I averted my eyes as I replied, “Someone has to. Hospital rules. So it’s either me, or the nurse.”

“You. Definitely you.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go.” I propelled her forward and out into the hall. Once we reached the bathroom, I opened the door and flipped on the light. “Here you go. Just leave the stick on the counter by the sink. Got it?”

“How much should I...?” She waved the box at me.

I understood what she meant. “You don’t need a lot. Just enough to wet the test end. Read the directions carefully. And don’t worry. You’ll do fine.”

While Desi took care of her end of the process, I strolled back to Ana and directed her to handle the pregnancy test and bring the results to me in E.R. one, stat.

“Poor kid,” Ana clucked. “Who is she?”

“The sister of a friend,” I replied evasively. The whoosh of the toilet allowed me to avoid further clarification, and I hustled back to Desi just as she reopened the door. “All set?”

“Uh-huh.” She cast a glance backward. “Are you sure...?”

I took her arm again and led her toward the exam room. “Trust me. We’ll have the results in a few minutes.” I ushered her back inside and settled her in a chair. “In the meantime, I’ll draw some blood to run an HCG test, to be sure.” Along with a tox screen, but she didn’t need to know about that. To distract her, I handed her the icepack again. “On the bump, kiddo.”

“What about Garrett? I should tell him I’m gonna be a while.”

Ah, yes. I’d almost forgotten about the creep. I frowned. “Listen,” I said, “I checked the waiting room for your friend a few minutes ago. He’s not there.”

Her face crumbled, and she practically folded into herself. “Oh.”

“He’s no good for you, Desi. I think you know that.” I snapped the latex gloves into place, which perfectly punctuated my statement.

“Yeah,” she replied on a sigh. “I know. But he’s cute. And he’s older, you know? I thought it would be so cool to have a guy like Garrett as my boyfriend. But he’s no better than the clowns in high school.”

“Is he the...” I swallowed my distaste. “...possible father?”
              “Yes.” She looked up then, her eyes—so like her brother’s—bright and lucid for the first time since I found her in here thirty minutes ago. “But if I’m not pregnant, I’m done with him. I swear it, Dr. Florentino.”

“Call me Frannie,” I said and smiled out of sheer pride. Desiree might not be the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but she was learning. Now, I just had to hope she wasn’t tied to Garrett D’Amico for the next twenty years.

“Josh calls you Frannie,” she said.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Do you like my brother?”

“Yes, I do. Very much.” I quickly detoured the conversation away from that area. “But now, you might want to consider calling someone to come get you here. I can’t let you leave without a ride home.”

“But I can’t go home,” she insisted. “I told you. It’s not just about me. I can’t get Casey in trouble.”

Great. Now what? “Well, can you call one of your sisters? Or your brother?”

“No way.” She shook her head enough to rattle her brain.

“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t do that. Keep the icepack in place, please.” I needed a solution. Fast. Only one idea came to mind. “Okay, listen. I’m here until eight in the morning, and the E.R. happens to be pretty quiet tonight so far. Plus, I’d really like to keep an eye on that bump. Provided we don’t get crazy busy over the next few hours, would you be willing to stay in this room until I get off work and I can take you home?”