“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. Ramírez, 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. Ramírez entered a cubicle.

No one, not even lowly orderlies, ignored Dr. Ramírez’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.

“The paramedics are down there.” When Mike pointed the boy nodded. “I’m going to talk to them now.”

Yawning, Stevie pulled away to wiggle onto a chair. He leaned back and closed his eyes as Mike walked toward the emergency entrance. The flashing red lights of ambulances pulling up outside lit up the area in flickering streaks of red.

“Hey, guys,” Mike greeted the paramedics, keeping his voice low. “Did you bring that kid in?” He gestured toward Stevie.

“Yeah, an accident on MLK. The family in a van was hit when a drunk ran a light.”

“What are the kid’s injuries?”

“Didn’t find anything serious. Probably should have that cut on his forehead checked later, but that’s it.”

“Do you have a last name? Any identification? Is there family around?”

“The family members who came in with him are all in the E.R., pretty badly injured. The cops are running the name down and getting in touch with relatives,” the older paramedic said.

“Thanks.”

As he walked back down the corridor, he saw Stevie had fallen asleep. Mike picked him up and carried him to the E.R.

“Orderly,” Dr. Yamaguchi, the on-call orthopedic surgeon, said as Mike entered the department. “Now.”

Mike nodded at Stevie. “Dr. Ramírez wants me to take care of this kid. His mother’s in the E.R. and we can’t find a family member.”

Dr. Yamaguchi glanced at the kid. “Put him in the emergency bed on the end and check on him when you can, but you have to transport patients.”

“Yes, sir.”

For the next few hours, Mike checked on Stevie whenever he wasn’t pushing gurneys or following the instructions from the medical staff.

Once when Mike entered the cubicle where Stevie had been sleeping, Dr. Ramírez was trying to examine him. Stevie had pulled away from her and cowered as far away from the doctor as possible.

“Hey, buddy, it’s okay. Remember those great doctors I told you about?” Mike asked. Stevie nodded. “This is one of them.”

“Will you stay?” the kid whispered.

“As long as I can.” Mike took Stevie’s hand.

“Guess you’re here for a while,” Dr. Ramírez said.

“Guess so.” The prospect would have alarmed Mike a few hours ago but not now. For the first time since he started work, he felt as if he belonged here, as if he had an important role to play and this was part of it.

“Orderly,” came a shout from another exam room. “Transport to X-ray.”

Then again, maybe not.

“Good job, Fuller.” Dr. Ramírez’s voice echoed through the now-empty hall in front of the curtained cubicles of the E.R.

Her voice wasn’t exactly friendly, but she didn’t sound as if she were ready to chew him out.

“I appreciate the way you pitched in tonight, picking up wherever you were needed.” She pulled off her latex gloves, tossed them in the hazardous-waste bin and said, “Thanks for taking care of the boy until his uncle showed up.”

Then she smiled at him. Not a big smile. Just a slight turning up of her lips. Still, it was a great look compared to her usual serious expression. Now her eyes sparkled a bit and a dimple appeared on her cheek. For an instant, she assumed the appearance of a human being, a real person, not a doctor.

Probably noticing his confused look, she allowed her usual professional expression to slide across her features again. Then she said in a voice a bit softer than her usual this-is-what-you-have-to-do tone, “Fuller, let me buy you a cup of coffee. There’s something I want to discuss with you. Purely professional. Nothing personal.”

He wondered what purely professional meant and why she had given him that smile. Probably didn’t mean a thing to her but it was the first almost-full smile he’d ever seen from her. It was a dazzler.

If he wanted to keep things professional, he shouldn’t join Dr. Ramírez for coffee. Meeting Dr. Ramírez outside the E.R. seemed odd to him, but he deserved a little bit of the good stuff—and Dr. Ramírez was really good stuff.

“Yes, ma’am, um, Doctor…Ramírez.” He hadn’t babbled like that since he’d asked Maribel Suárez out when he was a shrimp in the tenth grade. He cleared his throat and said, “I have to restock a room. Meet you in the cafeteria.”

When she left, he checked cabinets in Exam 1, made sure equipment had been replaced in the correct cabinets, and replaced gauze, tape and other supplies that were low. As he worked, he replayed the incident with Dr. Ramírez and felt like an idiot. Since Cynthia broke up with him, he’d been questioning everything in his life, but there was nothing unusual here. The idea she might put a move on him in the middle of a hospital cafeteria was crazy…but very appealing.

He almost slapped himself for that last thought.

Finished, he stripped off his gloves, washed his hands and splashed water on his face. Then he ran damp fingers through his hair as he attempted to make out his reflection in the paper towel holder.

“Hot date, Fuller?” the tall, balding RN asked him as he came through the curtains. What was his name? Oh, yeah, Sam Mitchelson. “Couldn’t help but hear the invitation from back there.”