An Angel In White

Still, she had to admit that while the return to emergency was welcome her relationship with the head of the department was far from perfect. While he was one of the best doctors she had worked with, a medical genius with a record of diagnosis and treatment few could match, she found his bedside manner to be one she would have associated with an intern or resident had she not known his past. Throughout her career she had experienced difficulty with doctors who had forgotten or failed to see the human side of the practice of medicine. Trauma patients aside, they were in no condition to know or care about what the doctor was saying, the majority only needed a reminder they had acted unreasonably not a harsh scolding then a cold brush-off. Dixie had yet to have a confrontation with Rampart’s ranking ER physician but knew a mutual irritation existed between them due their differing opinions.

Hearing herself paged to Treatment Room 1, she pushed open the door to find the doctor in question leaning over an examining table surrounded by the tattered remains of a warm-up suit and various other garments. Obviously he had been forced to remove the clothing himself due to some emergency.

“At last some assistance,” Dr. Kelly Brackett, Kel as he was known to his friends, said irritably rising from the patient.

“I’m sorry Doctor,” Dixie replied, picking up a stethoscope and BP cuff, “but we’re short handed today and you didn’t call your patient in as priority matter. What else do you require besides a set of vitals?”

Kel looked at the nurse. In the six months she had been in Emergency, Dixie McCall had become a thorn in his side. While he found her more than competent, her ability to anticipate a doctor’s needs was among the finest that he had ever worked with, he knew she harbored a silent annoyance with him that was mutual. Whenever she was present in a treatment room he felt a tension between them that made it aggravating for him to work with her.

“Get another set of vitals and temperature. I think he’s suffering from heat exhaustion given the fact he went jogging in too many clothes for an 80 degree day,” Kel answered, stepping around the pile of clothing trying to tangle itself around his feet.

Looking at the man on the table, Dixie found him to be in his early twenties, conscious and obviously scared. He was also of average height but stripped to his boxers still weighed at least 300 pounds.

Finishing with the vitals she relayed them to the doctor then ran a hand across the patient’s sweat beaded brow. “Don't worry. It’s going to be all right,” she said, her lips curving into a reassuring smile as she looked into the man’s frightened eyes.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” he told her. “It’s just that some friends told me that if I ran in as many clothes as possible . . . I’d you know . . . sweat off the fat. Maybe then I’d get a date and . . .”

“You did a stupid thing,” Kel cut in sharply. “If you want to lose weight you should consult a doctor first, not rely on the advice of friends.”

“I know that now,” the man gasped, turning his head toward the doctor. “But you don’t know what it’s like . . . being trapped in this body. I feel like a whale and no girl will --”

“You can’t tell me any girl is worth dying for--which is what might have happened if bystanders hadn’t responded quickly to your situation,” Kel said curtly. Giving Dixie instructions for an IV and the drugs to accompany it, he strode off to begin a record of the treatment.

After administering the IV, Dixie gave the man’s hand a squeeze before joining Dr. Brackett at the counter where he sat filling out a chart on the patient.

“What some people won’t go through to attract the opposite sex,” he said flipping the chart shut and looking up at her.

“Given the fact that we live in a superficial society -- I guess it’s not too surprising.”

Kel could see a slow burning anger in her eyes. Deciding that he had suffered more than enough of her silent irritation, he rose from the stool and led her to a corner of the treatment room.

“I sense you disapprove,” he said quietly, crossing his arms and looking at her.

“With the treatment, Doctor? No,” Dixie replied, taken aback by the statement. “You’re an excellent physician.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“Your bedside manner, Doctor,” she answered, trying to keep her voice low so as not be overheard by the patient. “This man needs to be told how to safely lose weight rather than that he’s an idiot and then sent home.”

“I don’t have time --”

“No, Dr. Brackett,” Dixie interrupted, her voice rising, “right now you do have the time! We can’t always pass things off just because we work in emergency. There’s no guarantee that an explanation will be passed on. This man needs to be told how to lose weight without killing himself!”

Dixie stopped knowing that she had crossed the thin line dividing doctors and nurses. Her slow temper had finally gotten the best of her when it came to what she thought of Dr. Brackett’s rapport with patients and she steeled herself for his outburst. She had seen it too many times and knew it wasn’t far away. Glancing over at the waiting man she hoped he hadn’t overheard the exchange.

Kel felt a momentary flash of anger at her words. But looking at her face, he saw that she was expressing a real concern, not insubordination. For a moment he remained silent, carefully considering what she had said.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “I might have been too harsh. Maybe you could talk to him.”

Dixie felt her eyes widen in surprise at the concession. Still, her anger won out and she found herself unwilling to allow him to pass the buck so easily. With a shake of her head she said, “No, Doctor. I’m not a dietitian. And I think he’d be more receptive to a qualified medical professional.”

Kel watched her slip through the door and then turned back to the examining table. For one of the few times in his career he found himself apologizing to a patient. Slowly he began to explain what had gone wrong with the attempted weight reduction method, soon finding himself caught up in the importance of a proper diet and exercise.

How long has it been since I’ve looked at the human equation of the practice of medicine? Kel Brackett thought, seeing the hope in the man’s eyes. Maybe too long. But today, thanks to a willful nurse, I’m seeing it again. One of the many reasons I chose this profession.

Several hours later, Dixie found herself regretting what had taken place in the treatment room. Not only had she crossed an invisible boundary but she had also left without waiting to see if the doctor had further instructions. Feeling that she owed Dr. Brackett an apology, she sought him out when the time came for her break. Finding that he was in his office, she knocked on the door and at his shouted, “Yes,” entered.

“I came to apologize, Doctor,” she said, approaching the desk he sat behind. “I was out of line in the treatment room earlier. I shouldn’t have questioned your methods and I never should have left you alone with the patient before knowing that you didn’t need anything else.”

Kel looked at her slightly squirming figure with some amusement. Contriteness was a side of Nurse McCall he hadn’t glimpsed before. And while he felt her apology was genuine, he had a sneaking suspicion that it was the knowledge that she had gone too far rather than true remorse which had brought her to him. But he was happy to see her. He had wanted to talk to her about what had taken place in Treatment Room 1, perhaps over a cup of coffee.

For a moment he studied her. With blond hair, dark blue eyes and an oval face she was classically attractive, maybe even beautiful. She also possessed a strong personality which he had on more than one occasion been made aware of. Seeing that she was waiting for him to say something, he decided to put her out of her misery.

“Have a seat,” he said rising and stepping around the desk. Once she was settled on the edge of a chair facing the desk he told her, “Your apology is accepted, Miss McCall.”

“Thank you, Dr. Brackett,” Dixie said, beginning to rise from the chair, relieved she had escaped his wrath. “It won’t happen again.”

His “But” had her lowering herself back to the seat. You should have known you wouldn’t get off that easy, she thought. Now for the explosion. And, Dix, remember you’re going to have to hear him out.

“You were right. I did have the time to properly explain matters to the patient,” he went on.

Dixie felt her eyes for the second time that day widen in surprise and knew her jaw must have dropped somewhat at his admission.

“Doctor . . . it still doesn’t excuse the fact that I left you alone with the patient and . . .” she stammered out.

Kel shook his head. “As for your leaving, I asked you to do something that wasn’t your responsibility and for that I owe you an apology. You were also probably needed somewhere else. There’s a shortage of nurses today. If you’re worried that something will show up in your file due to this, don’t. There’s nothing more left to be said about the matter.”

Dixie looked up at the doctor trying to reconcile what she had just heard with what she knew of his hot headed reputation, not to mention what she herself had experienced when working with him. A quality of fairness had been revealed and she hadn’t expected it.

Kel watched her reaction and felt a slight smile spread across his features. Yes, Nurse, he thought, I do have a human side. It just spends a great deal of time hidden beneath a hard exterior. “I need to get back on the floor,” he said straightening from where he leaned against the desk. “But, Miss McCall, I’d like us to work well together if possible. You’re one of the best nurses I’ve ever known. You have a great affinity when dealing with patients, not to mention your skills.”

“I’d like that too, Doctor,” Dixie said with a smile as she rose from the chair. “You also rank very highly in my estimation of emergency room doctors.”

“Then maybe we can find some common ground to build on,” Kel replied, hurrying to open the door for her.

Several months later Dixie found her circumstances in Rampart’s Emergency Room about to change. With the impending retirement of the ER’s longtime head nurse, Millie Eastman, she had been asked to fill the soon to be vacated position. While it was not something she had actively sought, she looked forward to the challenge overseeing the department, along with supervising the student nurses, presented.

She had also found her working relationship with Dr. Brackett greatly improved. Over time she came to realize his gruff manner was often not intentional but only part of the man he was. She soon learned it was sometimes necessary for her to step in on his behalf when dealing with a patient or their family members to smooth things over. Although the doctor had many rough edges, where she had once dreaded a shift with him, she now found herself looking forward to it. They had come together as a team.

Restocking a supply cabinet, Dixie tried to shake off a feeling of tiredness. After a year spent working a predominantly day schedule in pediatrics she found it difficult to adjust to a night shift rotation. Still, while her body had a difficult time accepting the change in her sleeping pattern, she felt the old adrenaline rush come back at the prospect of what the nighttime ER might bring.

Glancing up from the cabinet she saw Megan Armstrong, a student nurse, hurrying toward her. From Megan’s distressed appearance, Dixie had an idea something was seriously wrong.

“Miss McCall, Dr. Brackett would like you to assist him in 5,” Megan said when she reached the nursing station.

Dixie looked at the nurse in puzzlement. In the few weeks she had been in emergency, Megan Armstrong had proven herself to be a very promising student and more than capable of working alone with a doctor, even Dr. Brackett. Arching an eyebrow, Dixie asked, “What is it?”

Megan shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes. “You’d better see for yourself. I can’t go back in there.”

“All right. Why don’t you take five and see if you can get a hold of yourself,” Dixie told her, setting aside the vials of drugs she had been putting away.

“Thank you, Miss McCall,” Megan said, turning away from the nursing station. “I’m sorry.”

Dixie watched her leave pondering what could have brought the reaction on. With a shake of her head she left the station for the treatment room. Reaching it, she found a policeman standing outside and wondered if perhaps a difficult prisoner had been brought in who might have given the nurse some sort of implied sexual innuendo, something which had happened more than once. That coupled with Dr. Brackett’s well known lack of patience when it came to student nurses who didn’t perform quickly might account for Megan’s anxiety.

Pushing open the door, Dixie stopped. Instead of an individual with a bad attitude and wearing handcuffs, she found herself looking at a badly beaten woman lying curled on the examining table, a trickle of blood presenting itself beneath her short skirt. Dixie swallowed and looked to Dr. Brackett who was standing as far from the table as possible.

“Thanks for coming,” Kel said in a low voice, placing a light hand against her shoulder and turning her away from the table so as not to be overheard. “Your predecessor was doing nothing to help the situation.”

“What is it, Doctor?” Dixie asked, looking up at him.

“Right now I can’t get close to the patient -- she goes into hysterics every time I try. Probably due to a rape. I’ve tried to find a woman doctor but there doesn’t seem to be one on duty. I’d like you to see if you can get a set of vitals and let her know we’re here to help.”

“Have you tried psychiatric? They’d be much better equipped to deal with this.”

“Yes,” he answered, his voice filled with frustration. “There’s no one available at the moment and I don’t want to wait an hour only to find out the patient is hemorrhaging. I also don’t want to manhandle her into an examination after what she’s probably been through.”

Dixie nodded. “I can try, Doctor, but this is outside of my area.”

“Please, just try. Right now, you’re my best hope,” he said and Dixie knew he was nearing the end of his patience with the matter.

Giving him a doubting glance she turned to the table. As she drew near it she saw the woman’s knees pull closer to her chest in an instinctive reaction, her arms wrapping around them. Reaching out Dixie tentatively placed her fingertips against a hand, feeling the woman tense at the touch, and said in a gentle voice, “My name’s Dixie.”

The woman’s battered face slowly turned in her direction. Taking this as a good sign, along with the fact the hand hadn’t been withdrawn, Dixie went on: “I’m a nurse here. I’d like to help you if I can.”

Through the slit of her left eye the woman saw a face filled with compassion and understanding, one that could hold no harm. “I’m Roberta,” she croaked out through her split lips.

“All right, Roberta,” Dixie said, her fingers easing around the hand they had been resting on to take a gentle hold of it. “I need you to trust me. I won’t do anything to hurt you.”

Roberta gave a slow nod, her body losing some of its tension.

“Okay,” Dixie said with a slight sigh of relief. So far so good “Now, Roberta, I’m going to take your pulse, respiration and blood pressure. But if I do anything that upsets you, stop me.”

Seeing an affirmative gesture, she took the woman’s wrist noticing her fingernails were broken to the quick. Obviously Roberta had tried to fight back against her attacker and Dixie felt her heart go out to the woman. Roberta had experienced what every woman feared.

Making a mental note of the pulse and respiration, she pushed frosted blond hair back from the woman’s forehead. “All right, Roberta, we’re almost there,” she said, turning toward the counter to pick up a BP cuff and stethoscope. “Just a little bit longer.”

“Please don’t go,” Roberta said, reaching out for the hand that had once been on hers, not wanting the link to what was outside the nightmare she had recently experienced to be broken.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dixie said, turning back and taking the outstretched hand. “I’m right here.”

“Please, you’ve gotta understand,” Roberta whispered her hand creeping up Dixie’s arm to draw her closer. “I only went out tonight to meet someone. I never meant for this to happen.”

“I know you didn’t, Roberta,” Dixie said. Seeing tears begin to seep through the swollen eyes, she took the woman into her arms. “I know you didn’t.”

Holding her Dixie murmured soft words of understanding as the woman sobbed against her shoulder. When she finally felt it subside, she lowered Roberta back to table.

“Now, Roberta,” Dixie said, brushing her free hand softly over the woman’s brow, “we need to finish examining you. You’re bleeding and we have to know why. There’s a doctor here and he needs to look at you. But I’ll be right here through it all.”

“As long as you don’t leave me,” Roberta said, tightening her grip on the nurse’s hand.

“I won’t leave you, Roberta,” Dixie answered with a gentle smile. “Not until you’re ready.”

Kel Brackett watched the exchange between nurse and patient in silence. Not for the first time when in the presence of Nurse McCall, he realized he was in the company of someone who possessed what he had always thought of as “having the gift.” It was something he more frequently associated with a nurse or attendant, rarely a doctor. The ability to reach a complete understanding with the patient, ranging from the gentle chiding at the return of a patient who routinely neglected themselves to complete empathy in moments of trauma. Dixie possessed both in equal measure and he envied her for it.

Slowly he walked toward the table to explain to Roberta what must take place, grateful Dixie had paved way for him.

Dixie stepped out of the treatment room beside a stretcher and gave Roberta’s hand a squeeze of farewell. There had been no serious internal injury, the bleeding the result of menstruation and the penetration her body had not been ready to receive. She was being moved to a private room where a member of the psychiatric team was waiting to better discuss what she had experienced.

Sighing heavily, Dixie leaned her back against the wall and closed her eyes. While glad she had been able to establish an understanding with the woman that had led to treatment, the experience had been emotionally exhausting.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” a voice close to her asked.

Opening her eyes, Dixie found Dr. Brackett leaning an arm against the door’s frame and looking down at her. With a tired smile she nodded. “Sure.”

Turning toward the break room, she felt him take her elbow and guide her down the hallway. Once inside he led her toward a table and pulled out a chair. Taking the offered seat she lifted her eyes to him, wondering at his sudden attentiveness not to mention gentlemanly conduct.

Kel saw her baffled expression and turned quickly toward the coffeepot. “How do you like it?” he asked, taking two mugs from a shelf.

“Well, here, Doctor, things get a bit complicated,” she answered, a smile flickering across her features. “If it smells even remotely close to having been made within the last few hours, I like it black. Otherwise, add cream.”

Smiling back at her, Kel poured a cup and sniffed at it. “Hmmm . . .,” he said, arching a questioning eyebrow in her direction, “smells like it was just made.”

“In that case, I’ll trust your judgment and take it black,” Dixie replied with a chuckle at his comical expression. Not for the first time she found herself glimpsing something of the man that lay beneath the tough professional and she liked it.

Pouring another cup, Kel placed it in front of her and took a chair. As she tasted it he asked, “Was I right?”

“Yes,” Dixie answered and he found himself the beneficiary of one of the radiant smiles he had only previously witnessed when she was with a patient.

Wrapping his hands around his own cup he studied its contents. “You did a good job with that rape victim. I’m not sure what I would have done without you.” Looking back up into her blue eyes, he said on impulse, “Miss McCall, you’re truly an angel in white.”

“Don’t most angels wear white?” she replied, her voice holding a note of amusement.

“I suppose so -- if you believe in that sort of thing,” Kel stammered. “But nurses are sometimes considered angels and . . . their uniforms are white . . . and . . .”

Sensing he had become uncomfortable at what may well have been an unintentional slip of the tongue, Dixie interrupted. “Thank you, Dr. Brackett. But you did a good job in there yourself. You earned Roberta’s trust just as much as I did and together we were able to treat her.”

Inwardly, Kel felt himself warm at her words. He was well aware of the opinion the nurses held of him: Rampart’s medical marvel who lacked patience as well as understanding when it came to his patients and staff. He didn’t doubt Dixie held him in the same regard but she was one of the very few who made an effort to understand him and her compliment touched him.

“Doctor,” she said picking up her cup and taking a sip from it, “what happened with Megan Armstrong in the treatment room?”

Kel could have done without the change of subject. Nurse Armstrong had acted less than admirably and he still felt some lingering anger at her conduct.

“Mrs. Armstrong failed to carryout her duties and I was forced to ask her to leave,” he said curtly. Seeing in Dixie’s face that his answer had been less than satisfactory he knew he would either have to expand upon it or suffer several shifts of Nurse McCall’s efficient silent treatment.

“I was unable to begin an examination of the patient due to her fear and asked Mrs. Armstrong to begin a set of vitals,” he explained. “Unfortunately the site of a woman who had been raped seemed to upset her and she was fumbling so badly the patient became even more distressed. That was the point I told her to get out and find you.”

Dixie nodded, imagining the seen as it must have played out. The doctor, unable to approach the patient, had relied on the nurse to bridge the gap. When she had not performed to his expectations his well-known short temper had probably come into play, which had led to the student nurse becoming increasingly flustered.

“Doctor,” Dixie said slowly, “until two weeks ago Megan had spent the majority of her training in the wards, but since she’s been in emergency she’s shown herself to have the making of a very good nurse. It sometimes takes time to get used the brutal role human nature often plays in emergency work.”

“She still needs to be made aware of her shortcomings,” Kel answered sharply, feeling himself go on the defensive.

Damn it, Dix, she thought. You went too far with him again. When are you going to learn not to speak what’s on your mind?

“I’m sorry, Dr. Brackett,” she said, lowering her eyes to the table. “It’s not my place to question what happened. That’s for you and Millie to discuss.”

Looking at her lowered head, Kel felt his irritation subside as quickly as it had risen. “No, Miss McCall. Very soon you’ll be the head nurse of Emergency and I’ll have to listen to you whether I want to or not. I might as well get used to it.” Glancing at his watch he rose from the table. “I’d better get back to work.”

Pushing back her own chair, Dixie rose and turned to him. “As long as you don’t get too tired of it,” she said with a faint smile.

“I think I can manage,” he said, returning the smile. Placing a hand lightly against her shoulder he started for the door then stopped. Looking down into her deep blue eyes, he added, “And you might as well start calling me Kel. My first name goes with the head nurse’s territory.”

“All right, Kel, but you’re going to have to start calling me Dixie rather than Miss McCall.”

“Okay, Dix,” he replied, once again guiding her toward the door.

Two weeks later, Dixie stepped out of the hospital glancing at her watch. With her car acting up the last few days she had been taking the bus to work until she could find the time to get it in to the mechanic. She still had a few minutes before the last of the “peak hour” buses arrived and she didn’t want to miss it or she would have a long wait for the next one.

“Ready to call it a day, Dix?” a voice behind her asked.

Turning, she saw Kel coming through the entrance doors. “Yes, I am,” she answered as he walked up next to her.

“It’s been a long one,” he said with a tired smile as he looked down at her. A chemical spill at a refinery had caused everyone to put in some overtime.

“That it has,” she nodded in agreement before beginning to walk away. “I’ve gotta catch my bus. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Can I give you a ride home?” he called to her retreating form.

Dixie stopped. A few minutes of small talk with the doctor sounded infinitely preferable to fending off the weirdoes who tended to populate the Local 36 this time of day. “Sure, if it’s not out of your way,” she said turning back to him. “I don’t live far.”

“Not a problem,” he said, taking her arm and leading her across the parking lot. Reaching his car he unlocked the door and held it open for her until she was inside.

Now how long has it been since you’ve experienced that? Dixie asked herself, sinking back into the plush leather interior. Longer than I care to remember. Got to admit, the good doctor is a gentleman.

Sliding behind the wheel, Kel turned to her. “Would you like to have some dinner? We could stop by Marlowe’s or The Paramount for a quick bite.”

Dixie was familiar with both, they were favorites of the hospital staff, and either held much more appeal at the moment than trying to throw something together at home. “Yeah, I would.”

In the faint glow of the setting sun, Kel saw her face light up with one of its rare beautiful smiles and he found himself taking pleasure in it.

Marlowe’s was crowded but they were able to secure a table near the bar. Once they had placed their drink orders Dixie felt her usually concealed mischievous nature take hold.

“So, Kel, do you often bring nurses here?” she asked playfully, picking up a pretzel from the dish on the table.

Kel felt himself grow uncomfortable at the question. But looking at her, he saw the womanly humor behind it. “Yes, Dixie,” he answered seriously, “I have been known to bring nurses here on occasion--most recently, Millie. But there’s no need to worry that I’m going to demand having my way with you after some time spent in pleasant conversation over dinner. I usually save that for an empty treatment room between patients.”

“I’m sorry, Kel. I shouldn’t have asked that,” she said, laughing. “Sometimes my weird sense of humor gets the best of me, especially when I’m tired.”

“When are you going to learn to stop apologizing to me?” Kel asked, laughing with her.

Over the next hour they found themselves discussing matters outside the hospital. During it they found a shared love of seafood; similar interests in movies, although Kel felt she tended toward the over sentimental; a mutual appreciation of classical music and jazz, but when it came to rock Dixie considered herself to be by far the more open minded; and above everything else, the beginnings of a friendship beyond the work environment.

As the waitress took the check, Dixie finished her glass of wine. Setting it on the table she said, “Thank you for dinner, Kel. Now I need to call it a night. Rampart General will be calling to both of us again before we know it.”

Reaching out for her hand that still lay on the table, Kel grasped it beneath his own. “When’s your next day off?”

“Saturday. I actually have the weekend.”

“I’m filling in but should be done by 6:00. Would you like to have dinner again? Maybe someplace nicer?” he asked suddenly feeling like a schoolboy asking out the most popular girl, but he wanted to see her again.

Dixie considered it. She had spent her career avoiding outside entanglements with doctors and the complications they could lead to. But she had enjoyed the time spent getting to know him better and could feel the stirrings of a possible relationship that went beyond the professional. There was also something about the dark hair, gray eyes, and deep voice of Dr. Kelly Brackett she had long been attracted to. Briefly weighing the pros and cons, she nodded.

“I’d like that, Kel. But is doesn’t necessarily have to be someplace nicer. Maybe just a bit further from Rampart,” she answered, glancing toward the bar.

Looking in that direction Kel found it filled with staff from the hospital, a large number of them from Emergency, who were subtly glancing in their direction.

Pushing back his chair he said, “I can guarantee you it will be as far from here as possible. I’ll pick you up around a quarter after six.”

The next night, Kel joined Dr. Joe Early in a booth at The Paramount. They had been good friends for a number of years and while they saw each other almost daily, they tried to get together at least once a week to discuss life beyond the hospital.

After a short time spent talking about what each was dealing with when it came to their respective patients, Joe said, “I heard a rumor that you were seen last night at Marlowe’s with Dixie McCall.”

“Yeah,” Kel answered, a sudden shyness creeping into his voice, “I took her out for an ‘I survived the shift’ dinner.”

“So, for once, the rumors are true.” “Joe, she’s an attractive, intelligent woman.”

“Oh, I’ll give you that Kel,” Joe said. “It’s just getting past her always-ready comebacks and quick wit which pose a difficulty.”

“How would you know about that?” Kel asked incredulously. “You’re the darling of the nurses!” For as long as he could remember Joe had been the subject of their adoration while with him they were usually more than a little apprehensive. The two men were as different in temperament as they were in physical make-up.

“Oh, yes, even I have fallen victim to Nurse McCall’s quick tongue. Although probably not to the degree you have,” Joe said with a laugh. “She’s an exceptional nurse, though,” he added, stirring his drink.

Dixie was a subject that had not come up between them before and Kel felt somewhat relieved Joe had also suffered her often-pointed comments. Picking up his beer he took a swallow of it, his thoughts turning to last night. Despite a somewhat heated disagreement over the musical merits of the Rolling Stones and a brief struggle over who would pick up the tab, he had enjoyed the short time spent with Dixie. She was an intriguing woman with a mind of her own and he looked forward to exploring a friendship with her.

Seeing Kel had taken on a look of introspection, Joe quietly asked, “Are you going to see her again?”

“Saturday night. She’s a friend, Joe,” Kel answered with emphasis on the word friend.

“If you say so,” Joe said. “Well, good luck, Kel. But remember, in a few weeks, she’ll become the head nurse of Emergency. A relationship outside the hospital could lead to complications for both of you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kel said dryly, finishing his beer and changing the subject.

Saturday night found Kel tied up at the hospital with a sudden stream of patients needing care for a variety of minor injuries. Taking a minute, he phoned Dixie to let her know he would be late.

“Oh, that’s all right,” he heard her say, the voice he had come to think of as husky yet sultry completely accepting of his predicament, “I had a late lunch so it will give me more time to work up an appetite.”

Returning to the emergency room, Kel felt himself smiling at her understanding. Entering Treatment Room 4, he felt the smile evaporate as he picked up the chart of a woman who had been badly bitten and scratched by her cat while trying to give it a vitamin pill.

Most woman, even if there’re just a friend, are understanding when I’m late for the first “date,” he thought dryly, it’s when I’m late for the second or fail to show up for the third that they start to lack compassion. Especially when it’s something as minor as this that keeps me at the hospital.

It was 7:40 when Kel finally reached Dixie’s apartment.

“Hi. Come on in,” she said, greeting him with a warm smile as she held the door open.

“Sorry I’m late. I had some minor injuries to take care of. From a woman attacked by her cat to a guy who decided to put his hand through a wall rather than his girlfriend’s face,” he explained, stepping through to the living room, feeling too guilty at his tardiness to take in his surroundings.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied, picking up a jacket for the fall air and her purse. “I’ve been late or not made it all myself plenty of times due something that’s come up at the hospital.”

Smiling slightly at her empathetic statement, Kel helped her into her coat. “Thanks.”

“Oh, don’t mention it.”

Looking down at her, Kel realized he was for the first time seeing her out of uniform, her long blond hair loose from its usual professional bun gently framing her face. He found the image quite lovely.

“Come on, Angel in White,” he said, placing an arm around her shoulders, “you must be starving.”

Dixie stopped as he guided her out the door. Glancing down, she reassured herself that white was not part of her attire. From her coat to simple black dress, set off by a red scarf tied loosely around her throat, down to her black shoes, the shade of white failed to figure into what she wore.

“Why did you call me that?” she asked, her face reflecting her puzzlement. “I seem to dressed from head to toe in black and white is rarely a color I wear when I’m off.”

“I’m sorry,” Kel answered, his cheeks taking on a faint pink tinge as his arm slid from around her. “I guess I just sometimes think of you as that.”

“It’s all right, Good Doctor,” Dixie said, taking his hand in hers and stepping toward the door. “That’s what I sometimes think of you as. The ‘Good Doctor.’”

Kel gave the hand holding his a squeeze. “Well, with that established, let’s get some something to eat.”

“Dix, there’s a new episode of ‘All in the Family’ on tonight,” Kel said, leaning against the nursing station and looking down at where she sat upon a stool. “Care to watch it with me?”

“Your place or mine?” she asked with a smile.

Settling back on the sofa of her living room Kel listened to Dixie’s laughter at the antics of the narrow-minded Archie Bunker and his long-suffering wife Edith, feeling himself relax. As their friendship grew he found himself more and more, when alone with her, letting down the hard exterior he maintained at work.

“Damn, that show’s funny,” Dixie said leaning out of his arms to pick up the TV Guide when the program ended. “What next?”

“You decide, Dix,” he responded, willing to indulge the woman who was fast becoming his best friend in whatever she cared to watch when it came to television.

Passing a treatment room Dixie, heard angry, muffled voices. Pushing the door open she found Carol, one of the ER’s longtime and most competent nurses, locked in what appeared to be a heated argument with Dr. Mike Morton, one of Rampart’s most talented residents.

“What’s going on here?” Dixie asked sharply. “I could hear you two in the hallway.”

Morton and Carol turned in unison at the head nurse’s entrance.

“I’m sorry Dixie,” Carol said, lowering her eyes, “but Dr. Morton and I had a disagreement on a patient’s vitals. Dr. Early found my readings to be correct but Dr. Morton refused to let the matter go.”

“It wasn’t your findings I found disagreeable,” Morton said, his voice heavy with sarcasm, “it was the clumsy manner in which you performed them that I found unsatisfactory.”

“If you hadn’t been breathing down my neck through every step along with the five second reminder to also draw blood, I might have gotten through what was a simple examination a little faster,” the usually mild mannered Carol replied hotly, turning to face Morton once again. “I do know my job, Doctor.”

“If you say so, but I tend to disagree. I doubt you can --”

Seeing no end in sight to the argument Dixie stepped between them. “Enough, both of you!”

Allowing them moment to cool off, Dixie weighed what she had heard. Carol was well known for keeping cool while dealing with the both the routine and more severe. Dr. Morton, on the other hand, had a well-deserved reputation, even worse than Kel’s, of being abrasive and short tempered with the staff and patients. He also tended toward the sarcastic which Dixie found particularly annoying. And unlike Kel, he didn’t have a well-established career to back up his actions.

Glancing from one enraged face to the other she said, “All right. Now, I think we all need to sit down and look at what happened here reasonably.”

“Oh, come on, Miss McCall,” Morton said irritably. “I don’t have time to be bothered with a minor disagreement over a nurse’s tender feelings.”

Squaring her shoulders and hooking her thumbs in the pockets of her uniform, Dixie glared at him. “Don’t worry, Doctor,” she said, her voice holding a hard edge, “I would never allow anything to interfere with the care of a patient. The patient always comes first but this is something that must be dealt with and you will find the time.”

Hearing herself paged to the nurses’ station, Dixie looked at both Carol and the doctor. “We’ll talk about this later.”

Two hours passed before Carol and Mike found themselves sitting across from Dr. Brackett’s desk with Dixie also in attendance. Kel had spent some time reviewing Joe’s chart on the patient after hearing about the incident inadvertently from Dixie during a break. Finding no fault with Carol’s performance, he came to a conclusion that the bright young intern had (not for the first time) allowed his ego to take over. He had also probably been in a hurry to get through with what was an ordinary early detection of appendicitis to whatever case may be waiting that held more excitement.

Closing the chart, Kel looked at Carol and asked to her to explain what had taken place before Dr. Early’s arrival. As she quietly recounted the events Kel occasionally glanced toward Mike, seeing a slight smirk on his face.

Enjoy it while you can, Doctor, he thought, because this time you went too far. You’ve still got a lot to learn.

When Carol finished, Kel sat back in his chair and studied the three faces before him. While Mike’s wore an expression of superior detachment, Carol was clearly upset. In Dixie’s eyes he saw a glimmer of the anger he knew lay beneath her calm exterior.

“Thank you, Carol,” Kel said, leaning forward and resting his arms against the desk. “I’ve spoken with Dr. Early and reviewed his chart. I can’t find any complaint nor can he with your performance. I’m sorry this happened.”

“Thank you, Dr. Brackett,” Carol said with relief, shooting Morton a somewhat triumphant look.

“You can go now.”

As Carol left, a flabbergasted Mike Morton said, “You can’t mean this, Kel. Don’t I get a chance to tell my side?” Standing, Kel folded his arms across his chest and stepped around the desk. “Yes, you do. I think you have some explaining to do, Mike.”

“Well, she was botching the examination, taking too long and --"

Kel shook his head and interrupted. “No Mike. I’ve worked with Carol Johnson a long time and even on her worst day she can run circles around you in an examining room. Not being there I can only surmise that you were not for the first time lording it over a nurse that you’re a intern with a promising career.”

“You also slandered her abilities while I was in the room, Doctor, and I happen to know she’s a better nurse than you were implying,” Dixie added.

“Oh come on, Kel,” Morton said, his eyes imploring the other doctor for understanding, “we both know that if Millie was still her,e we wouldn’t be sitting around talking about any shortcomings I might have when it comes to the nurses and wasting time that could be better spent elsewhere. She understood there were more important things than hurt feelings.”

Dixie spun around to face him, her face glowing with indignation. Before she had a chance to respond Kel’s voice, holding an edge of his barely controlled anger, said, “Maybe not. But Miss McCall is now the head nurse with her own set of criteria on how matters should be dealt with.”

Looking down, Mike Morton muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?” Kel asked sharply.

“I said ‘I guess I’d better learn the new guidelines,’” Morton answered through clenched teeth, raising his head.

“Yes you should, Dr. Morton,” Kel said, his voice low but laced with rage. “You’ve got to learn that without nurses, orderlies, attendants, and the rest we as doctors don’t function. You can’t always be riding them to get through an exam so you can move on to the next patient.”

Morton nodded. “I’ll try to improve in that area, Doctor.”

Kel looked at the intern, trying to rein in the short temper that could still get the best of him. “All right,” he said finally, looking down at his watch and deciding enough had been said about the matter for the time being. “You’ve got rounds to make about now, but in the future try to keep this discussion in mind.”

Dr. Mike Morton nodded and quickly left the office.

Having watched the exchange between the two customarily hotheaded individuals in silence, Dixie rose from her chair. Facing Kel, she asked, “Do you think it did any good?”

“Maybe. He’ll probably be mulling this conversation over for a while.”

“You know, he’s worse than you are.”

“I know. I only growl at student nurses and patients. Not staff I know can perform their jobs well,” he said with a smile.

“Kel, I could have handled this on my own. I didn’t need you to become involved.”

“I know you didn’t,” he said, sliding an arm around her shoulders and stepping toward the door. “You can handle anything that comes up. But, like you with your nurses, when it concerns my doctors I need to know what’s going on and become involved. The next time I’ll let you go after Mike Morton on your own.”

Stopping Dixie turned and smiled up at him. “Thanks. I’ll look forward to it.” The smile faded from her face as she thought of another aspect of what had recently taken place. “Kel, I heard what he said under his breath.”

“And?”

“It’s probably best I don’t tell you right now. Maybe some night over a few drinks we can have a laugh about it. For now let’s just say he gave voice to some speculation that must be going on in the hospital about the two of us.”

“Let them speculate all they want. We’re good friends and there’s no hospital policy against that. And we both know that here, at Rampart, our relationship is professional and neither of us will let the other get away with anything.”

“But we do need to be more careful here. At least when we’re not in your office,” she replied, her voice holding a note of concern.

Looking down into her apprehensive blue eyes, he cupped her face within his hands and placed a kiss against the top of her head. “You’re right. But your friendship is too important for me to give it up due to idle gossip.”

Dixie nodded. “I’ll second that, Good Doctor,” she said, brushing her lips across his cheek before turning toward the door.

Shortly after the New Year rang itself in, Dixie and Kel found they had some rare coinciding time off. Despite the fact it was overcast and cold for Los Angeles, the temperature had plunged to an unprecedented 50 degrees, they decided to spend an afternoon at the beach where the long stretches of deserted sand offered a respite from the usual chaos of their daily lives. Later they split a bottle of wine over what could only be described as a questionable dinner in a nearby cheesy, and drafty, restaurant, where Dixie had him laughing with her over the poor service and atmospheric conditions of the place.

Back at her apartment Dixie began to make coffee as Kel flipped on the radio. Hearing something slow and romantic playing he walked back to the breakfast bar. Dixie looked up at him with a wide smile as she spooned coffee into the basket. With her face still flushed from the cold and wine, Kel came to the conclusion she had never looked more beautiful. Reaching out he took her wrist and drew her around the bar.

“Come on, Angel in White, let’s dance,” he said.

“On carpet?” she asked skeptically as he pulled her to the middle of the living area. Looking at his wind-tousled hair and face (for once free of the tension it always held, even when away from the hospital), she found him completely charming if not slightly out of character. “I think you’ve had too much to drink, Good Doctor.”

“Oh, no, that can’t be the case,” he said flippantly, holding out his arms in the classic invitation to dance. “Besides, we can just sway to the music. Who is this anyway?”

“It’s ‘Into the Mystic’ by Van Morrison. A song I like,” she answered with a laugh, taking his hand and placing an arm loosely around his shoulders. “Do you ever listen to the radio?”

“You know the answer to that: rarely, with the exception of the news,” he grinned back at her.

As their bodies fell into a gentle rhythm, Dixie closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his chest. “Maybe dancing on carpet isn’t such a bad idea,” she murmured.

“I do occasionally have a good one,” he whispered, reveling in the aroma of the earlier salt air mingled with the scent of her perfume. Slowly his hand began to travel up her back until it reached the clasp confining her hair. Dropping the barrette to the floor, he buried his fingers in the thickness of her blond mane.

Dixie leaned her head back into his palm, twisting it slightly within his grasp; eyes still closed, a faint smile playing across her features.

Gradually his lips began to press their way up the exposed column of her throat to the line of her jaw as she sighed with pleasure, her hand lightly caressing the back of his neck. When his mouth finally met hers and his tongue began a gentle probing she welcomed it with her own, her fingers locking around the back of his head to bring him closer. As the music reached a crescendo, Kel released his hold on her hair, his hand gliding down the outside of her sweater until it came to rest against the curve of her breast, feeling her body melding into his own.

The voice of an obnoxious DJ announcing a car sale suddenly intruded and they drew apart, Dixie wrapping her fingers around the hand that still lay against her chest to hold it there.

“Dix . . ?” Kel asked, his voice filled with the question now looming between them. If they went further it meant a change in what had previously been only a deep but affectionate friendship.

“Yes, Kelly Brackett,” she answered, guiding his hand to the low V-neck of her sweater. “I’m ready to take the next step. I love you and have for a long time.”

Smiling, Kel kissed her, reaching past the sweater to the warm flesh beneath it while Dixie began to unbutton his shirt.

There has to be a better way, Roy thought, his frustration mounting as he climbed into the ambulance to continue applying oxygen, and CPR if became necessary, as the victim was transported to the hospital. I doubt this guy’s going to make it and there’s not a damned thing I can do except pat his hand and give him “first aid” while he dies on the way to the hospital.

Waiting outside a treatment room for his partner, Roger Dodson, to pick him up, Roy mulled over how the situation with the construction worker inside could have been handled more effectively. Seeing the door open and a nurse exit the room, he caught up with her and asked, “How is he?”

Stopping she turned to the fireman and shook her head, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry, he didn’t make it. There was too much internal damage.”

“Damn it,” Roy muttered, turning his eyes toward the floor. Looking back up at the nurse’s face filled with compassion he read her nametag, wanting to thank her and apologize for his outburst until he saw what was printed across it. “You’re Dixie McCall.”

“Yes, that would be my name,” Dixie said.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All of it good I hope,” she replied. “And you would be?”

“Roy DeSoto,” he said, extending a hand toward her. As she shook it he asked, “Can I buy you a cup of coffee? I’d like to talk to you for minute if that’s possible.”

There was something about the young strawberry-blond fireman’s earnest manner she found compelling. Giving her watch a glance she said, “Sure. I’m overdue for a break.”

Taking a table in the cafeteria, Dixie stirred cream into her coffee as Roy said, “I’ve heard you’re the new head Emergency Room nurse at Rampart who tends to be more open to new ideas and more understanding of its staff.”

“Well, I’m not sure if everyone would agree with that,” she replied, a look of amusement in her eyes as she picked up her cup and took a sip from it.

“You were also a field nurse in a combat situation.”

“That was a long time ago and it's something I’ve tried to put behind me,” Dixie said softly, lowering her eyes to the table.

“But you worked with medics there and knew what they could do,” Roy pressed her.

“Yes,” she said, looking back up at him. “Some of what they did was quite impressive.”

“Don’t you think something like that could be done here? With a civilian population?”

“I’m not sure --”

“Have you heard of the paramedic program?”

Dixie lips curved into a slight smile as he reached the real purpose behind their having a cup of coffee. The concept of the paramedic was a growing disagreement within the medical community she had followed closely. While many nurses and doctors saw it as a potential threat, she found herself open to the idea. Fire Department personnel trained to stabilize a victim at the scene could possibly save lives.

“Yes, I’ve heard of it and it’s similar to the Army medic but with many big differences. They’re trying it out now in Miami,” she answered with a shrug.

“Don’t you think we need something like that here? Los Angeles has twice the population of Miami,” Roy said, searching her face for at least some understanding of what he and a few others were trying to get off the ground. “And maybe it could help save people like the guy I just brought in.”

“Maybe. But if you’re asking for my help in establishing something like that in LA I’m not sure what I can do,” she said slowly. “I’m just a nurse.”

“But you’re the head nurse of one of the finest emergency rooms in the state, maybe the nation, and anything you do will make a difference,” he said hurriedly as Roger stepped through the cafeteria doors. The partners held strongly differing views on the subject and Roy didn’t feel up to the confrontation that would take place if Roger were to overhear the discussion he was having with Dixie. Pushing away from the table and standing he looked down at her imploringly. “Please, just think about it.”

“I will,” she said watching him leave.

Dixie poured Kel and herself a cup of coffee. Sitting opposite him and unable to forget her earlier conversation with Fireman DeSoto, she asked, “Kel, do you know anything about the paramedic program?”

“Yeah, I’ve read about it. Laymen practicing medicine. Why?”

“Oh, I just had a talk with a fireman today and it sounds like they may be trying to start something like it here.”

“Won’t happen,” Kel said assuredly as he picked up his coffee. “Medicine is something to be left in the hands of professionals.”

“But don’t you think it would help save lives if victims were stabilized then transported to the hospital by trained individuals rather than just thrown in an ambulance and brought here?” Dixie asked, leaning against the table and crossing her arms, looking at him pointedly.

“Not if they die while said individual is trying to perform their version of a crash course in medicine,” he replied somewhat sarcastically.

“From what I understand, the course is intensive and they operate under a doctor’s guidance. Somebody like you would be with them through every step,” Dixie said, her voicing rising as it filled with irritation at his tone. “And it’s also something that’s been done to a lesser degree in the military for a long time with . . .”

She stopped as Dr. Early entered the room.

“Are the two you having an argument or may I join you?” he asked, taking a cup from the shelf and filling it.

“We’re just having a friendly disagreement about the idea of the paramedic. So of course you can join us,” Dixie answered, giving the kindly, graying doctor a smile. She had long admired and liked Joe Early. As her relationship with Kel had grown so had her friendship with Joe.

“I’ve heard of it,” Joe said, taking a chair between them. “They seem to be having good results with the experimental project in Florida. It may actually have some value.”

“You think so?” Dixie asked, arching an eyebrow in Kel’s direction.

“Dix . . .” Kel began only to be interrupted by Joe.

“Maybe,” Joe answered with a shrug. “It needs to be studied more before it becomes widespread. But it’s something everyone who works in emergency medicine should consider.”

“If you say so,” Kel grumbled. “How’s the MI you had earlier today doing?” he asked, hoping to change the subject before Dixie could pursue the paramedic matter further.

Dixie was silent as the two doctors began to talk shop, her own thoughts filled with the seed planted by a fireman who had seen to much and sought a new way of doing things. Now was not the time to press the issue with Kel and Joe, it was too early in the program’s development. But she had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last discussion on the subject.

“Hey, Dix,” Kel said, putting a hand on her shoulder and smiling down at her. “Are you going back to work or are you going to spend the rest of your shift staring into your coffee?”

“Sorry, Kel,” Dixie said with a shake of her head as she rose from the table. “Guess I was daydreaming for a minute.”

“It’s all right,” he responded with a grin. “As long as you don’t do it with a patient, daydreaming is allowed.”

“I’ll see you two later,” Joe said, picking up a newspaper lying on the table as they returned to the floor of the ER.

As she watched the progress of the experimental program in Miami, Dixie along with a few other doctors and nurses, became a coconspirator with the small group of firemen trying to implement a paramedic program in Los Angeles County. When a member of the State Legislature began to take an interest, Harbor General agreed to a training program that would begin in a few months. Roy DeSoto and a handful of others had volunteered for it immediately.

“So, a small victory,” Dixie said as Roy told her the news.

“Yeah, it’s a start. But we need more hospitals willing to accept Fire Department trainees to give it legitimacy. Otherwise, we’re not going to get anymore volunteers or outside support. Any luck here?”

“There’s an interest but some very important people balk at the idea of anyone who hasn’t been to medical school treating a patient.”

“Damn doctor’s egos,” Roy said, slamming his hand down against the counter of the nurses’ station at what he saw as an unnecessary impediment.

“Not necessarily,” Dixie said with a shake of her head, thinking of Kel. She knew it wasn’t ego that kept Rampart’s ranking emergency room physician from joining the bandwagon but a strong belief in leaving the practice of medicine in the hands of those who knew it best: doctors. Although she vigorously disagreed, she also respected his views. “There’s a lot more behind it than ego. But I’m working on it.”

Later that evening, after finishing her shift, Dixie joined Kel at his house. It had become their custom, at his suggestion, on the rare occasions when a day shift coincided with the other’s day off for the non-working party to make dinner. Although when it came to the kitchen Kel lacked the prowess he possessed at the hospital, he tackled it with the same enthusiasm and she usually found whatever he prepared interesting if only moderately palatable. With the aromas penetrating the foyer she wondered what she was in store for tonight.

“You look tired. Busy day?” he asked, kissing her cheek.

“You might say that,” she answered, returning the gesture of affection before shrugging in an attempt to relieve the tension still present in her muscles. “Sorry I didn’t change but I was running a little late.”

“You look great in white,” he said with a wink, gently kneading the tightness of her shoulders. “Come on. I’ve got a glass of wine waiting for you and something I’m sure you’ll find quiet different for dinner.”

Uh-oh, Dixie thought as he took her hand and led her toward the kitchen, he’s experimenting again. It’s so much safer when he sticks to the simple bachelor’s fare. But as she watched him give whatever was waiting in the oven a quick peek before opening the bottle of wine on the counter, she felt herself smile. It’s the effort he makes when it comes to something like this that makes it special, if not edible.

Handing her a glass he asked, “So what happened today?”

“Well the morning started off cleaning up the aftermath of a gang fight -- you know how much fun that is. After that is was just busy. The worst was a sixteen year old drowning victim who was given mouth-to-mouth at the scene but ended up choking on her own vomit. Dr. Elanza spent over an hour with her but every time we thought we had her back she’d fade.”

“That’s tough,” Kel said, nodding in sympathy.

“Yeah,” Dixie replied, lowering her eyes at the memory of a young girl whose life had been cut short and the devastating effect she had seen it have on the parents. “Maybe if an airway had been inserted sooner she might have stood a chance.”

Placing a hand against her cheek, he lifted her face up to him with a full knowledge of where the conversation may be heading. She had become committed to a cause he didn’t share but tried to remain open minded about. “You think it would have made a difference?”

“If there had been someone there who knew how to properly perform the procedure -- yes, I do,” she answered looking up at him, her eyes filled with conviction as well as combativeness.

“I have my doubts, but there’s an outside chance you may be right. So we can agree to disagree,” he said softly, taking the glass from her hand and placing it on the counter. Pulling her close, he began to stroke her hair. “Let’s drop it for now, Dix. We can pick it up again during our next shift together at the hospital.”

Dixie felt herself relax, her readiness to argue subside under his soft caress. The twining of his fingers within her hair could always melt and touch her no matter what the occasion. Are you aware of this, Dr. Brackett? Dixie silently asked with a touch of irony.

With a slight shake of her head she leaned back within his arms and looked up at him. “You’re such a stubborn man, Kelly Brackett. I sometimes wonder why I love you so much.”

“Maybe it’s the manner in which I conduct my thorough examinations that draws you to me,” he replied, tracing the outline of her lips with a finger while his free hand began an exploration of a different area of her body.

“Oh, yes, Good Doctor. That is definitely a contributing factor,” she answered before taking a hold of the finger which had now begun to circle her left cheekbone and directed it toward her mouth.

For a time both the paramedic program and the “different dinner” were forgotten as they fell into the desire which had existed since the dawn of time between man and woman.

Dixie woke early, deciding to do some shopping on her day off. Although a trip to a department store was not something she took a great deal of pleasure in, she was in desperate need of some nylons along with something new for her off duty hours. She also needed to make a trip to the grocery store as there was tonight’s dinner to consider and food was another commodity in short supply.

Standing in her robe after a long shower, she tended to indulge in a little daydreaming as the hot stream of water beat against her when the need to reach work wasn’t present, she surveyed her closet. Finding it somewhat limited, she grabbed a white blouse to go with a pair of well-worn jeans.

Yes, I definitely need something new, she thought buttoning the blouse she seldom wore due to its color. Giving the overflowing basket of dirty clothes a scowl, she added laundry to her mental “to do” list for the day. Throwing in a couple of loads might improve the situation and I’m going to run out of uniforms if I don’t.

Backing out of her parking space, Dixie felt optimistic about the day ahead. Given the fact it was the middle of the week the stores shouldn’t be too crowded and she had an early start on things. With luck she should be able to complete her errands and laundry with some time leftover to spend with the novel she had recently become engrossed in before she had to prepare for the evening.

Nearing a major intersection she slowed at the lights of a police car and those of several Fire Department trucks. Seeing the crumpled front end of a pickup wrapped around a light pole and an overturned station wagon, she pulled over and got out.

Approaching the police officer directing traffic, she said, “I’m a nurse. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yeah,” he answered glancing in her direction before once again guiding the incoming cars around the obstacle. “The driver of the truck died a few minutes ago but there’s still two people in the station wagon who are hurt. There’s an ambulance on the way but from what I saw they could probably use a hand.”

Stepping around broken glass and the hoses being used to wash down the pavement against the leaking fuel from the truck’s ruptured gas tank, she began to make her way to the upside down car. A sudden tug at her arm had her spinning around to look into the face of a fireman with boyish yet attractive dark features and chocolate brown eyes.

Bedroom eyes. Bet he melts some hearts with those, she reflected as she regarded him questioningly.

“Ma’am, you’re going to have to get back,” he said, beginning to lead her across the street. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Wait a minute,” Dixie protested, shaking her arm loose from his insistent pulling and planting her feet firmly against the blacktop in order to stop their progress.

Finding his efforts thwarted, the fireman looked at her in exasperation and waited for some enlightenment as to why she should not be removed from the scene.

“I’m an emergency room nurse at Rampart General,” Dixie hurriedly explained, doubting he’d concede to her determination for long, “and I’m just trying to find out if there’s anything I can do anything to help with the injured.”

“Well, we need to get them out of there first. But we could probably use some medical assistance after that,” he said his lips forming into a slightly bent smile. “Sorry, but you wouldn’t believe the number of people who just like to get a closer look at a bleeding body.”

“Oh, yes, I would,” she replied as they turned back to the car. The drivers-side door had been pried open and she knelt with the fireman to look inside.

The brown-eyed fireman looked up in surprise. He had expected her to stand back a few feet and wait for the victims to be brought out. Doubtful she would come to any harm as long as she remained outside the car, he decided to ignore her presence; peering inside to find an unconscious man, probably in his early sixties, and a somewhat disoriented woman of about the same vintage struggling to reach him.

“Looks like his foot is caught in there pretty good,” the fireman commented.

“Yeah,” Dixie nodded, looking over his shoulder at the crush of metal wrapping itself around the driver’s ankle. Pulling back the hair she had left loose for a planned day of shopping she pushed it inside her shirt to keep it out of the way.

The fireman gave her backward glance, seeing she had leaned over the patient. Given the position of the driver’s body very little of her was exposed to the interior and her knees were resting against the street outside. Her earlier attitude didn’t invite argument and he tried to rationalize his cooperation with her actions. Okay, whatever she can tell us about his condition will probably help. As long she doesn’t move any further.

Finishing, Dixie gave the expectant fireman her impressions. “Well, he hasn’t gone into shock yet. But he may have a mild concussion. There’s also a possible cervical fracture and whatever damage may have been done to his ankle. We’re going to have to move him carefully. Have you got a backboard?”

“Sure.”

“Then get it. What else do you have?”

“O2, bandages . . . basic first aid kit,” he answered with a shrug.

“Then bring everything,” Dixie said, looking across the man to the woman who had begun to whimper as she crawled toward the man. Her chin was discolored by an abrasion and blood was streaming down the back of her outstretched hand from a deep laceration in her forearm. “Can we get to her without crawling over the driver?”

“Tony, pull the back door open,” he responded by way of answer, turning to a fireman standing behind them. “And have somebody grab the medical equipment.”

Standing, Dixie said, “In the back seat of my car, a dark blue Mustang, there’s a brown bag. Have them get it too.”

After issuing the further instructions the fireman asked, “Can you give them something for the pain?”

The impotence Roy DeSoto and his compatriots’ felt became more apparent as Dixie realized her own inadequacy. Despite her many years of nursing, she could do little more at the moment than they could. “No,” she answered, shaking her head as she bent to crawl inside the station wagon. “I’m a nurse, not a doctor. But at least I can get a start on what will be needed when they reach the hospital.”

“Hey, hold on,” the fireman said, grasping her shoulder to stop her from entering the car. “You can’t go in there.”

“I don’t think there’s any immediate danger,” she told him decisively before continuing on her way. “And if I cut myself on any broken glass you don’t have to worry about my suing the Fire Department. I’ll take full responsibility.”

Man, this is one stubborn nurse, the fireman thought as he released his hold and followed her in. He’d probably catch hell later from the Captain for bowing to her will but at the moment it seemed immensely preferable to wrestling her away from the scene and the tongue-lashing that would accompany it.

“Eliseo,” the woman inside the car cried, her eyes filled with panic as she clutched the front of Dixie’s blouse with bloody fingers. “Por favor! Mi esposo . . . Él es lastimado."

“Shh,” Dixie said, grasping the woman’s shoulders and turning toward the fireman. “Do you speak Spanish?”

“Not nearly enough,” he answered. “I don’t think there’s anyone here who does.”

Dixie looked back to the woman shaking her head. “No Español. English?”

“Sí,” the woman said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “A little.”

“Are you hurt anywhere besides here?” Dixie asked slowly, pointing toward the gash in the woman’s arm.

“No. Only mi brazo. Eliseo . . . él ha muerto,” she sobbed, calling to him in Spanish, her grip on Dixie tightening as her free hand groped toward the unconscious driver.

There was no language barrier when it came to her concern. “He’s alive,” Dixie said earnestly, turning the woman’s face up to her own. “He’s alive.”

The meaning of the unfamiliar words registered and the woman’s face flooded with relief. “Sí,” she nodded through her tears.

“Bueno,” Dixie said with a reassuring smile before beginning a quick examination of the woman for any injury that may lie beyond the obvious.

“Can we move her out of here?” the fireman asked.

“Yeah,” Dixie answered. “I think she’s all right. Just scared.”

As they linked arms around her and began to pull her toward the open door, the woman glanced from the driver to Dixie. “Mi esposo?” she implored.

“No preocupe,” Dixie said soothingly, drawing upon her limited knowledge of Spanish and hoping she had gotten it right. “We’ll have him out of here soon.”

Once they had removed and seated her a few feet away, where the first aid equipment had been set up, the work of extricating the driver began.

“Stay with her,” the brown-eyed fireman told Dixie sternly, seeing she was about to rise and follow him back to the car. "I mean it."

Dixie started to object but the resolve his young face displayed and the rising pitch of the equipment being used to free the man from the wreckage stopped her. At the moment she would only be in the way. “All right,” she said, looking up at him as she opened the bag from her car. “Just be careful how you move him.”

“Don’t worry,” he replied with a crooked smile, turning to leave, “we’re highly trained in rescuing people from automobile accidents. We’ll be careful.”

An urgent “Por favor” followed by a question in Spanish from the woman, claimed Dixie’s attention. Taking the woman’s wrist she reached for the BP cuff and stethoscope within the bag.

“What’s your name?” Dixie asked.

Having been posed the same question by the Immigration and Naturalization Service on numerous occasions the woman answered without hesitation, “Antonia Jaramillo.”

“It’s gonna be all right, Antonia,” Dixie said, finishing with the vitals. All were stabile if slightly elevated, probably caused by simple excitement. Pulling open a bandage from the first aid kit she pressed it against the woman’s forearm. “Can you move the fingers of your right hand for me Antonia?” she asked, demonstrating with her own hand the movement she sought.

“Entiendo. Yes,” Antonia responded, flexing her fingers.

“Good. Bueno,” Dixie sighed, seeing no result of tendon or nerve damage. With the bleeding from the wound subsiding, she began to clean it.

“Ouch!” the woman yelped, jerking her arm away and swearing in Spanish as the antiseptic stung it.

“I’m sorry,” Dixie said with a gentle smile. “I know it hurts but it’s necessary.”

“I . . . know,” Antonia said, reluctantly offering her arm back to the nurse.

Taking the proffered extremity, Dixie ran a disinfectant swab over it once again, speaking softly to the woman as she did so, feeling the arm flinch beneath it’s sting but no longer trying to escape it. Placing a bandage over the wound, she looked up to see a group of fireman bringing the body of the driver toward them on a backboard within a stokes.

“I’ll be back, Antonia,” she said, giving the woman’s shoulder a squeeze before picking up the BP cuff and stethoscope as she went to meet the firemen. Hearing the wail of an approaching ambulance’s siren, she began to check the man out.

“Congratulations, Gentlemen. You did a good job of getting him out of there,” she said, somewhat frustrated with the knowledge of what more could have been done to stabilize the patient and give him a better chance of survival. Rising from the man’s swollen ankle, she looked at the crowd of firemen around her. “He’s in a great deal of pain, diaphoretic, and becoming shocky -- but there’s been no added aggravation to his spinal or ankle injury. He should make it to the hospital. Let’s get him bundled up and ready to transport.”

Antonia watched as Eliseo was loaded into the ambulance, hesitating as a hand stretched out to pull her in. “Gracias Señora,” she said nervously, reaching out to Dixie who was standing close by. “You . . . come?”

“Señorita,” Dixie replied with a smile, taking the woman’s hand. “And sí, I’ll come with you. That is, if it’s all right,” she added looking up at the fireman with the dusky characteristics and “bedroom eyes” framed between the open doors.

“Sure. You can keep an eye on them,” he said, lifting Antonia inside then offering Dixie a hand. “Besides, I’ve got an idea you’d raise some hell if I didn’t let you,” he grinned.

Dixie frowned at the comment but climbing into the ambulance she began to smile slightly. “You’re probably right.”

“Dix! Are you all right?” Joe Early asked as Dixie hopped down from the ambulance behind the stretcher.

“Yeah. I’m not a patient. I just rode in with them,” she explained, pushing back the hair that was falling into her face before helping Antonia out. Following the stretcher inside the hospital she began to give Joe and the assembled nurses the details of what she knew of the victims’ condition.

Pausing outside the treatment room Eliseo had been wheeled into she looked back at Antonia. A nurse was waiting to lead her away for a more thorough examination and the woman glanced from her to Dixie.

Seeing her apprehension, Dixie went to her. “It’s ok. Go with the her,” she said in a slow reassuring voice, tilting her head toward the waiting nurse. “I’ll see you in a few minutes. Comprenda?”

Antonia nodded. Despite how little they each understood of the other’s language she had come to trust the woman with the blond hair, blue eyes and gentle manner. “Yes.”

Dixie turned to the nurse. “Sally, this is Antonia Jaramillo. She doesn’t speak very much English. She’s worried about her husband and frightened so be patient with her. And maybe if you or somebody else has time, they can find out if there’s anyone who speaks Spanish on duty.”

“Sure, Miss McCall,” Sally said guiding Antonia to the next treatment room.

Antonia turned and looked over her shoulder to Dixie. “Thank you Señorita,” she called out. “Para todo usted ha hecho, muchos gracias . . . Usted es un ángel! Yo no sé qué . . .” The rest was lost as the door closed behind her.

Pushing open the door of Treatment Room 3, where Eliseo had been taken, Dixie felt herself smile. While she had only understood the phrase “muchos gracias,” the woman’s tone of gratitude was unmistakable and much appreciated.

Stepping into the hall after checking on Antonia, this time through an orderly who spoke fluent Spanish and had been indispensable in assisting with the patients, Dixie found the young fireman she had rode in with waiting.

“How are they?” he asked.

“They should be fine. The woman only suffered some bruises and with the exception of her arm, minor lacerations. The man has a damaged disk in his back. We’re still waiting for x-rays to tell us how badly. It may require surgery and the physical therapy that follows it but at least they’re both alive.”

“Well, that’s all right,” he said, his features splitting into what Dixie could only describe as the most lopsided grin of pleasure she had ever seen. “Another job well done.”

“Yeah,” she replied dryly, her thoughts once more turning to what else could have been done.

A passing student nurse with an extremely short skirt and abundance of brunette hair suddenly caught his eye. “Thanks for your help,” he said in parting as he turned to follow the young woman down the hall.

“My pleasure,” Dixie replied, heading in the opposite direction.

Kel Brackett heard Dixie had ridden in with an ambulance carrying the victims of an automobile accident and finding himself with a spare minute went to look her. Entering the break room he found her sitting at the table, her back to him.

“Hey Dix,” he called. “I heard you came in with . . .” he broke off as she turned and swung an arm over the back of the chair at the sound of his voice. “Have you been looked at?” he asked urgently, staring at her.

Dixie followed his eyes down to the still crimson stains from Antonia’s bloody hand against the seldom worn white blouse. “It’s not mine. The woman I came in with was bleeding.”

Kel sighed with relief. “Not a great way to spend your day off,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee and taking a seat next to her.

“I’ll tell you one thing, Kel,” she said, picking up her cup. “One of these days I’m going to take the time to learn Spanish.”

Chuckling he placed a hand on her leg. “You can tutor me while you’re at it.”

Looking up at him Dixie remained serious. “Kel, there was so much more that could have been done for those people I tried to help.”

“From what I hear you caught the man’s spinal injury before he was moved and had a good head start on everything before they got to the hospital. They both should be fine.”

Dixie felt a flash of irritation at his reluctance to look beyond the obvious to the heart of the matter. Taking a deep breath she said, “Only because by the grace of God the man didn’t go into deep shock. If he had -- there’s nothing the Fire Department or I could have done.”

“In the hands of amateurs it may have been worse.”

“But what about the driver of the truck who died? And the pain Eliseo and Antonia were in? If there would have been --”

“I know where you’re going with this,” he interrupted, removing his hand from her knee and entwining it within her fingers. “It’s something that’s purely speculation. Good intentions, without the proper background, are not always enough.”

Dixie shook her head. “Good intentions are often the beginnings of something more significant, Doctor,” she said as she stood up, running a hand through his dark hair. “I think I’ll take us out to dinner tonight. I’m still waiting for a ride to my car which I’m hoping hasn’t been towed due to an illegal parking violation.”

“Uh-uh,” he replied smiling, “if anyone buys dinner it will be me. You deserve it after the ‘day off’ you’ve had.”

“A position for argument only just like another between us,” she said. Looking down at him her face took on one its radiant smiles. “But I think I’ll let you pick up the tab. I’m in the mood to be treated to the restaurant of my choice.”

“Good,” he said, rising from the table. “Call and make reservations wherever you want. I’ll pick you up around 7:00. And, Dix,” he said, placing a hand against her face, “if I’m not there on time . . .”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, linking an arm around his as they headed toward the door, “I’m sure I can find something to feed us. There may be a TV dinner in the back of the freezer we can get by on.”

Dixie, you’re always so tolerant of my unpredictable schedule, he thought, stopping to give her a quick kiss on the cheek before his eyes trailed to the dark smears across the stark whiteness of her chest.

“Come on,” Dixie laughed, giving his arm a gentle pull. “Remember, we’re at the hospital so it’s no time to be daydreaming about the wonderful frozen entrée I may serve.”

Mike Morton chose that moment to poke his head through the door. “Uhhh . . . I’m . . .” he sputtered, seeing Dixie’s hand drop from Kel’s arm.

“Hi Dr. Morton,” she said stepping around him and through the open door. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Yes, Angel in White, I’ll see you later tonight even if it’s for a TV dinner, Kel silently told her as he watched her walk down the hallway to check on the status of her ride. “What is it Mike?” he asked, turning his attention to the younger doctor.

“Well, actually I was just going to have a cup of coffee and thought I may have bumped Miss McCall with the door when I opened it,” Morton answered, moving past the senior physician to the coffee pot.

Entering Rampart General, having ridden in with the casualty of a climbing accident, Roy DeSoto passed a young fireman from Station 10 wearing a lopsided grin on his way out. Glancing over his shoulder Roy caught the name on the back of the retreating turnout coat. J. GAGE, it read.

Guess I don’t know him, Roy thought.

Some time later, despite his misgivings, Dr. Kelly Brackett volunteered to instruct a group of paramedic trainees at the urging of Dixie McCall. His lack of commitment to the project would remain firm, placing a strain on his relationship with colleagues who were supporters of it, until the day he heard a fireman/paramedic named DeSoto inform him through a radio that the nurse responding with them had been severely injured. Another named Gage--in no uncertain terms--told the doctor to go to hell and turned off the link when ordered to let the injured wait until a backup nurse could arrive at the scene.

It would be the turning point. Not only had the victims of the automobile accident been spared unnecessary pain by the paramedics’ rebellion but a life that held great importance to the doctor had been saved due to their actions.

Kneeling beside the chair in his office on which she sat, Kel Brackett would for the first time see Dixie McCall’s eyes well with tears when he informed her of his decision to testify before the State Assembly in favor of the paramedic bill.

“I love you,” he heard her whisper, feeling her tears splash against his face as she leaned over to kiss his forehead. Brushing a hand across her cheek he smiled before standing and pulling her from the chair. Placing an arm around her waist, he turned toward the door. He was booked on a flight to Sacramento in order to make up for his earlier doubts, the reason for his change of heart warm within his grasp. An Angel in White had lived thanks to two hose-jockeys with twelve weeks of medical training and for that he was grateful.