Without remorse - Tom Clancy [70]
His left shoulder was still immobilized, and there had to be pain, the nurse knew. She and others could see the occasional wince, especially close to the time for a new pain medication, but Kelly wasn't the type to complain. Even now, still breathing hard from a murderous thirty minutes on the bike, he was making quite a point of walking as rapidly as he could, cooling himself down like a trained athlete.
'Why the big show?' she asked.
'I don't know. Does there have to be a reason for everything? It's the way I am, Sandy.'
'Well, your legs are longer than mine. Slow down, okay?'
'Sure.' Kelly eased off his pace as they reached the elevator. 'How many girls are there - like Pam I mean?'
'Too many.' She didn't know the numbers. There were enough that they were noticed as a class of patient, enough that you knew they were there.
'Who helps them?'
The nurse pushed the elevator button. 'Nobody. They're starting up programs for dealing with the drug habits, but the real problems, the abusive backgrounds and what comes from it - there's a new term now, "behavioral disorder." If you're a thief, there are programs. If you abuse kids, there's a program, but girls like that are outcasts. Nobody does much of anything. The only people who deal with that are church groups. If somebody said it was a disease, maybe people would pay attention.'
'Is it a disease?'
'John, I'm not a doctor, just a nurse-practitioner, and it's outside my field anyway. I do post-op care for surgical patients. Okay, we talk over lunch, and I know a little. It's surprising how many of them show up dead. Drug overdoses, accidental or deliberate, who can say? Or they meet the wrong person or their pimp gets a little too rough, and they show up here, and their underlying medical problems don't help very much, and a lot of them just don't make it. Hepatitis from bad needles, pneumonia, add that to a major injury and it's a deadly combination. But is anybody going to do anything about it?' O'Toole looked down as the elevator arrived. 'Young people aren't supposed to die that way.'
'Yeah.' Kelly gestured for her to get in the elevator first.
'You're the patient,' she objected.
'You're the lady,' he insisted. 'Sorry, it's the way I was raised.'
Who is this guy? Sandy asked herself. She was managing the care of more than one patient, of course, but the professor had ordered her - well, not exactly, she told herself, but a 'suggestion' from Dr Rosen carried a lot of weight, especially since she had great respect for him as a friend and counselor - to keep a special eye on him. It wasn't matchmaking, as she'd initially suspected. He was still too hurt - and so was she, though she would not admit it. Such a strange man. So like Tim in many ways, but much more guarded. A strange mixture of the gentle and the rough. She hadn't forgotten what she had seen the previous week, but it was gone now, and never a hint of it had returned. He treated her with respect and good humor, never once commenting on her figure, as many patients did (and to which she pretended to object). He was so unlucky and yet so purposeful. His furious effort in rehab. His outward toughness. How to reconcile that with his incongruous good manners?
'When will I get out?' Kelly asked in a voice that was light but not light enough.
'Another week,' O'Toole replied, leading him off the elevator. 'Tomorrow we unwrap your arm.'
'Really? Sam didn't tell me. Then I can start using the arm again?'
'It's going to hurt when you do,' the nurse warned.
'Hell, Sandy, it hurts already,'