Christmas in July

By Marie Roy

Lacey Parker, widowed, single mother for the past five years no longer celebrates holidays at home. One day just before the fourth of July celebration her ten-year-old son Zachary asks his mother why can't they celebrate this holiday?

Lacey has no clear cut answer to give him. She simply prefers to be somewhere else during times of holiday celebrations.

Dr. Michael Tanner, the attending physician at County Memorial’s ER is having doubts about staying in the medical profession, especially after losing a young girl’s life in his ER, and only a week later almost losing the life of a young boy put in his care.

During a raging fierce Nor'easter Michael and Lacey become stranded inside an old farmhouse with some very colorful characters.

Despite the potential for total destruction, life presents a few lessons that show amid disasters hope and a promise of good things to come can still happen.

Christmas in July is a must read for all ages especially during any holiday season.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marie Roy
• Release date: Jul 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476281605

Marie Roy

My name is Marie Roy. I write both fiction and nonfiction. In fiction I write contemporary romances. You can find out more about those at my newsletter/blog: http://www.newsletterofmarieroy.blogspot.com In nonfiction you can find my book here at Smashwords: Dating Hell, Relationship Heaven - A Journey for Baby Boomers after Becoming Divorced or Widowed. A Kindle version of this book is available also at Amazon.com http://www.amazon.com/dp/B002KHNXVE

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Christmas in July

by

Marie Roy

Christmas in July

Published by Marie Roy at Smashwords

Copyright JULY 2011

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This e-book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.

Chapter One

The boy’s not breathing! the EMT yelled. Lightning flashed in the distance. Two uniformed personnel pushed the gurney through the opening doors of County Memorial Emergency Room.

Michael Tanner ran beside the stretcher. Resident on call, he noticed small limp fingers had already turned a bluish tinge, matching the young boy’s lips.

Accustomed to emergencies coming in at all times, he still found himself wondering what had occurred that necessitated this latest emergency.

They positioned the comatose boy onto a treatment table. Michael grabbed a black rubber ambubag from a nearby cart. Once in place, he forced life-saving air into the boy’s lungs. He glanced over at the intern assisting him. Take over! Michael ordered. He noticed the difficulty the boy was having breathing so he needed to do an intubation to get air into the boy’s lungs. He grabbed a pediatric laryngoscope off the code cart and inserted it into the boy’s mouth.

Michael took the endotracheal tube, pushed it between the boy’s vocal cords until it slid down into the trachea. He secured the tubing with tape. Yeah, it was becoming second nature for him. He took back the ambubag from one of the intern’s grasp and continued to squeeze the bag, forcing air directly into the boy’s lungs. He didn’t have to think too much about what he had to do anymore, a result of working more hours than he thought he could handle that had him making these split-second decisions.

He’s coming back, one attending nurse whispered. I thought we were going to lose another one this week.

Michael remained silent, keeping his focus on the boy’s face. This was no way for an eleven-year-old to begin his summer vacation: inside his ER, having air pumped into him.

He guessed the boy had probably eaten something that had produced an allergic reaction and had caused the throat lining to swell, blocking the airway. Depending on what had caused the life threatening reaction, if that were the case, he would later inform the boy’s parents their son might need to wear some form of ID to prevent future episodes.

He continued to pump the ambubag at the same time watched the nurse attached leads from the electrocardiograph machine to the boy’s wrists and ankles. He noticed the scraped knee and imagined the boy falling off a bike or skateboard. Remembering his own childhood, he knew kids at this age played hard.

An IV drip was hooked up.

This one would make it. The realization should have made him feel better and alleviate the emptiness he had been experiencing lately while performing these life saving duties. It should erase the gnawing inside his chest, the cause of which he could not apply a name to without taking time to probe and do all that damn inner soul searching.

Hell, he wasn’t up to any self-exploratory crap.

Feelings plagued him, like a lingering cough and it had started ever since the EMTs had brought Suelita Gomes into his ER the week before.

In medicine you had to keep moving forward.

He did not have the luxury to dwell on past failures.

Lately his inability to get past his shortcomings had created a fog of uncertainty that at times wrapped itself around him and prevented him from moving forward.

He plowed his hand through his hair, the length of it letting him know he was long overdue for a cut. Then again, a large part of his life had been set on hold.

Suelita Gomes.

The young girl’s name would always haunt him. Now with this other child coming into his ER, it made him question himself as a doctor.

He thought about his broken engagement the year before, which reminded him some of those failures hadn’t occurred inside an ER. He’d failed both his professional as well as personal life with these dark marks of defeat.

As the team of nurses and doctors stabilized the boy and readied him for admittance, Michael’s job for the most part was done. Without as much as a backward glance he walked out of the ER, sensing that his colleagues were staring after him, their minds working overtime.

Had he almost lost another one?

He had no answer.

One thing he’d learned during his internship into that first year of residency: detachment was an important and useful element that enabled anyone to survive the medical arena. Detachment carried you on to the next case. Detachment allowed you to perform, to get the job done without a lot of leftover emotions hacking away at you until there was nothing left.

Michael wondered if there was any more sticky cinnamon buns left in the staff’s lounge. He doubted it. You had to get in there early. That was okay. He’d just take the time to catch a few zees until the next emergency. In a few hours, he’d be post-call and out of there for an entire weekend.

Then it would start all over again come Monday morning.

Or would it?

His stomach hurt—the antacids hadn’t helped. His chest felt tight. And the skies outside had grown dark again, making him wonder if the sun ever shone in that part of the country. He knew he needed to get out for a while. He heard the wailing siren of another ambulance. In minutes they would be bringing in yet another victim, another emergency patient into County Memorial.

He pushed the last thought from his mind, ignored the increasing pain inside his stomach along with the tightening in his chest and focused on one word—detachment.

Chapter Two

Hurry up, Mom. I’ll miss the van again!

Lacey Parker tugged at the zipper that had jammed halfway up her son’s raincoat, all the while trying to remember the last time the sun had come out. It’d been raining on and off for the entire month of June. Weather reports were predicting more of the same for most of Connecticut right through to the beginning of July, Lacy felt at her wits’ end. She had made plans for the Fourth ages ago.

Come hell or high water she wasn’t about to change them on account of the rain. Her sister Carrie had looked forward to having them come and spend a long relaxing week at her cottage located near the Rhode Island shoreline.

Are we getting a Christmas tree this year? Zachary squinted up at her, his three foot five inch frame fidgeting beneath her struggling fingers. His large brown eyes remained fixed on her face as he waited for her answer.

When she realized he actually expected a response from her, she stopped pulling at the stuck zipper. Zach, where’s your mind at? Have you forgotten we’re only into July? She resumed the yanking trying not to let his words distract her from the task at hand, which was to free the damn zipper, and promised herself that his next raincoat would contain only snaps and no zipper.

I know that! He rolled his eyes. But last night I dreamt that you and dad were fighting over which tree to cut down. At least I think it was Dad. Maybe it was an angel. I saw a movie the other night at Tommy’s house. They had a bunch of angels playing baseball. Do you think Dad will come down here and play baseball with me? I bet if we get a tree, he’ll even help us decorate it. I want to have Christmas here this year, instead of going to Gram's house. Dad said we should stay here for Christmas.

He did, did he? And when did he tell you this?

Last night. In my dream. Aren’t you listening? We have to stay here for Christmas. Dad wants us to stay here, he emphasized. He said you can make those gingerbread cookies you always used to make for us. His eyes took on a look that could make her feel sad along with some guilt.

Look, Zach, Gram will be disappointed if we don't go visit her at Christmas. She looks forward to us coming down. Besides, we don’t have to do what our dreams tell us. They’re only dreams, they’re not real. Their life had become more surreal than not with the passing of her husband five years before. Since then, each day had become a reminder of that void. Zach was determined to keep his dad alive through these dreams he kept having every night.

Why can't Gram fly up here instead? At least we get snow up here. It’s never going to snow in Florida. It never feels like Christmas down there. It’s not the same.

I thought you enjoy helping Gram put up her tree, Lacy reminded him, hoping he would agree and they could end the discussion. At the same time it made her wonder why they were even having this conversation what with summer having just begun.

Zachary glanced toward the end of the driveway. Yeah, well… He turned back to her. Why does it always have to be at her house? It's just not the same having it there! He glanced down at his toe and dug the tip of his sneaker into the soft rain soaked earth until the top turned a muddy brown. He stared at it. Then he looked back at her. Besides, Christmas trees aren't supposed to be all white. And Gram puts on those dumb pink bulbs. I never get to throw the silver stuff Dad used to like.

Lacey sighed brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. Five years should have helped ease the pain so that there wouldn’t be any more of these arguments. The distance between her and Zach widened when they found themselves at odds with each other and