Rushing Waters by Danielle Steel Page A

previously told her. He had flushed it down the toilet and didn’t want to get in trouble, so he said he swallowed it. His mother was giving him a stern lecture about lying.
    Juliette looked at him seriously, barely able to repress a smile. “Johnny, do you have a dog?” She already knew the answer, as the little boy nodded.
    “Yes, his name is Dobie. He’s a German shepherd.”
    “I’ll bet he’s a really nice dog. Will you make me a promise?” He looked at her with wide eyes and nodded again. “Will you promise me that you won’t swallow him? I think that would give you a really big tummyache, and Dobie might not like it.” The boy guffawed at what she said, then giggled as his mother smiled.
    “I promise. But he’s too big to swallow.” And the ill-fated turtle probably had been too. It had been his sister’s turtle, and he had told the nurse that his sister would be really mad at him. But on other occasions, they had seen children who had swallowed a wide variety of unlikely objects, which the doctors had observed on X-rays and scans with some dismay.
    “Well, you just remember that. Don’t try to swallow Dobie.” He nodded, and she helped him off the table once he was dressed, and she signed the release form and handed it to his mother. And then she reminded him that telling fibs was not a good idea either. He nodded solemnly and waved when they left a few minutes later, and he informed his mother that Juliette was nice and he liked her. And then he promised not to lie again.
    Juliette went down the line of her patients, doing triage, and was in the waiting room to see the children of the man who had had the heart attack and was on his way to cardiac ICU for an angioplasty, when she saw a bulletin flash across the TV screen. All eyes in the waiting room suddenly turned toward the TV, as the anchorman informed them that Hurricane Ophelia had been upped to a Category 1 hurricane, had picked up considerable speed, and was headed straight toward them. The city was now officially on alert, the subways would be closed by eight P.M. , and designated areas of the city were being evacuated. A list of the zones to be evacuated appeared on the screen, and all other residents were being asked to stay home after nine P.M. that night. Further bulletins were promised, and a live message from the mayor at six P.M.
    “Shit,” Juliette said out loud, “here we go again.” And then she turned back to the family of her cardiac patient.
    “Will they close the hospital?” one of them asked her, looking worried.
    “No, we’re fully prepared to handle emergencies like that. We have a backup generator, and we’ll make all the arrangements and accommodations necessary, and it probably won’t be as bad as last time,” she said, hoping it was true, and remembering the scene at NYU, carrying patients down the stairs by flashlight. She went back to explaining the procedure that was going to be performed on their father.
    Afterward she went back to the desk. Several of the nurses were going to have to leave early before public transportation shut down, as they commuted by subway, and relief staff was being called in. Juliette knew just what an emergency of that nature would look like, and realized that her own apartment was in a flood zone.
    “What about you? Do you need to go home to get some things?” Michaela asked her, and Juliette shrugged.
    “About the only thing I have of value there is my passport. I can always get another one. My apartment is a mess. There’s nothing I need to run home and save.” Her whole life was at the hospital. She had no belongings at home that were meaningful to her, no pets, no sentimental memorabilia. All that was in Detroit. The place where she lived was nothing more than a crash pad she went to between shifts.
    Juliette saw Will Halter rush down the hall in the ER shortly after that, on his way to examine a patient. There was no time for him to be snippy with her, now that the city