Tiel was washing her chest with one of the baby wipes when she sensed movement behind her. She glanced around quickly, and it would be difficult to say who was the most discomfited, her or Doc. His eyes involuntarily dropped to her lilac lace brassiere. Tiel felt a warm blush rise out of it.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"I was a mess," she explained, bringing her shoulder back around to conceal her front. Her blouse had been stiff with the dried sanguineous fluid it had absorbed when she first held the newborn against her chest. Doc had been conferring with Ronnie, so Tiel had taken advantage of a moment's privacy to remove her blouse and wash. He'd returned before she expected him. "I thought I should clean up before appearing on camera."
She disposed of the towelette and picked up the spare T-shirt she had taken from the rack earlier. After pulling it on, she turned and held her arms out to her sides. On the front of the T-shirt was the Texas state flag with the word home underneath. "Not exactly haute couture," she remarked ruefully.
"It is in these parts." He checked on Sabra, then joined Tiel where she had sat down with her back to the freezer chest. She passed him a bottle of water. He drank after her with no compunction.
"How is she? Any better?"
Doc nodded a hesitant affirmative, but his brow was furrowed with concern. "She's lost a lot of blood. It's coagulated somewhat, but she needs to be sutured."
"There wasn't a suture kit in the doctor's bag?"
He shook his head. "I checked. So, even t
hough the bleeding has slackened, infection is a real concern."
Sabra and the baby were sleeping. After Tiel's telephone conversation with Agent Galloway to arrange the videotaping, Ronnie had resumed his post. He was most wary of the Mexicans and Cain. He watched them vigilantly.
Vern and Gladys were dozing, their heads together.
Donna was thumbing through a tabloid magazine, much as she would do on any other night when business was slow. For the time being, everything was quiet.
"What about the baby?" Tiel asked Doc.
"Holding her own." He had listened to Katherine's chest through the stethoscope included in the doctor's kit. "Heartbeat's strong. Lungs sound okay. But I'll feel a lot better when she's getting neonatal care from experts."
"Maybe it won't be much longer. My friend Gully runs our news operation. For several hours now he's known that I'm among the hostages. I'm almost certain our station has a crew already here. Galloway's checking on that, and promised to get back to me as soon as possible. I have every confidence in the effectiveness of video. It will soon be over."
"I hope so," he said, giving the young mother and baby another worried glance.
"You did a terrific job, Doc." He looked at her suspiciously, as though waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I mean that sincerely. You're very good. Maybe you should have chosen obstetrics or pediatrics over oncology."
"Maybe I should have," he said grimly. "I didn't have a very good success rate combating cancer."
"You had an excellent success rate. Far above the average."
"Yeah, well…"
Yeah, well, I couldn't cure the one that really counted. My own wife. Tiel mentally finished the thought for him. It would be pointless to argue how commendable his efforts to conquer the disease had been when, in his own mind, that single casualty had cost him the war.
"What directed you toward oncology?"
At first it seemed he wasn't going to answer. Finally he said, "My kid brother died of lymphoma when he was nine."
"I'm sorry."
"It was a long time ago."
"How old were you?"
"Twelve, thirteen."
"But his death had a lasting impact on you."
"I remember how tough it was on my parents."