Once Found: The Pocket Watch Chronicles Read online

  Once Found

  The Pocket Watch Chronicles

  By

  Ceci Giltenan

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. The locations in this book are either products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real or real locations used fictitiously.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  Copyright 2016 by Ceci Giltenan

  www.duncurra.com

  Cover Design: Earthly Charms

  ISBN-10:1-942623-27-5

  ISBN-13:978-1-942623-27-4

  Produced in the USA

  Dedication

  To Natalie Vincent, my dearest friend. I have so much to thank you for.

  Thank you for being another mother to my children. For making pasta and reindeer food with them. For being there when I couldn’t be. For kicking their arses occasionally when needed and for loving them as only a mother can.

  Thank you for Christmas dinners and birthday dinners and just-because-you-made-extra dinners. Thank you for decorations and silly hats and traditions.

  Thank you for your help with this book and for allowing me to name Gabriel’s mother Natalie in your honor.

  But most of all, thank you for your steadfast love, faith, and eternal friendship.

  And, as always, to my beloved Eamon, the heart of my heart.

  Acknowledgements

  The devil is in the details, and I like to get them right as often as I can.

  I owe a huge thank you to my friend and colleague, Dr. Brian Murphy, MD, MPH, FIDSA,

  who not only helped make sure the emergency medical details were accurate,

  but also explained the residency matching process.

  Many thanks to my dear friend, Paul Vincent, my expert on all things related to EMS.

  Thank you also for your years of service as a Fire Commissioner and volunteer firefighter.

  Another big thank you goes to my cousin Gerald Bowen, who helped me understand certain police procedures. Also, thank you for your years of service as both a police officer and a US Marine.

  And finally, a sincere thank you to Mostafa Alami of the New York City Cab Company,

  who provided information on how luggage left in a cab would normally be handled.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Table of Contents

  Note to the Reader

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other titles published by Duncurra LLC

  Note to the Reader

  The snowstorm described in this novel really did occur in February 2006. It is referred to as the Blizzard of 2006, and it dumped a record amount of snow on Manhattan from the evening of the 11th to the evening of the 12th. For a while, the storm was so intense that it thundered. As I mention in the book, no one died as a result of this storm.

  That said, while the snowstorm is real, as far as I know, there wasn’t a major accident on I-495 during the storm. Also, the hospital portrayed, New York University Hospital Center (referred to as NYUHC) is completely fictitious. It is not intended to represent any actual New York City hospital. Why didn’t I set it at a real hospital? I needed a twenty-first century hospital in Manhattan that treated both adults and children, and in most major cities, pediatric care is now provided in dedicated pediatric facilities.

  I could have given Gabe some other specialty, but look at him. Doesn’t he look like he should be a pediatrician?

  Glossary

  Bairn

  (BAIRn) A baby

  Brathanead

  (BRA huh need) the name of the fictional MacLennan stronghold

  Canonical hours

  The medieval day was ordered by these times rather than clock times:

  Vigil, Matins, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers, Compline

  Carraigile

  (Kah rah GEEL) the name of the fictional MacKenzie stronghold

  cods

  testicles

  compline

  (COMP lin) Night prayer, after sunset but before bedtime

  eejit

  A slang term meaning idiot

  gob

  A slang term meaning mouth

  kertch

  Also called a brèid (BREEdt): a square of pure white linen folded in half and worn by married women to cover their hair. It is a symbol of the Holy Trinity, under whose guidance the married woman walks.

  lauds

  (LAWDS) Sunrise

  léine

  (LAY in ah) A full tunic-like garment. A woman’s léine is a full-length dress with full sleeves that is worn belted at the waist. A man’s léine would only come to his knees, similar to a long shirt. Both men and women generally wore another garment and/or a plaid over.

  matins

  Just before sunrise

  none

  (rhymes with bone) Literally the ninth hour, about 3 in the afternoon

  prime

  After the first hour of daylight, about 6 in the morning

  sext

  Literally the sixth hour, noon

  skelping

  A beating

  sweetling

  An endearment

  terce

  Literally the third hour of daylight, about nine in the morning

  wheesht

  Shh, hush

  vespers

  Evening prayer, sunset

  vigil

  The night office, the period from compline to matins (just before dawn)

  Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone

  —we find it with another.

  ~ Tomas Merton

  Chapter 1

  New York University Hospital Center (NYUHC)

  Saturday, February 11, 2006

  Gabriel Soldani had worked twelve-hour shifts for seven straight nights, and he’d had big plans today.

  Sleep.

  Maybe get a pizza in the evening and watch a little of the winter Olympics. Then sleep some more.

  He had accomplished part of his primary objective. After getting back to his apartment late that morning, he fell into bed and slept the afternoon away. He’d only been awake long enough to shower and flip on the television when Dr. Sweeny, the chief of pediatrics, called.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your Saturday night plans. Call your date and give her my apologies, but this nor’easter looks like it’s going to be a bad one. I want extra staff tonight. I’d like you to back up the ER.”

  “My date? The only date I have is with the S
wedish women’s Olympic hockey team. They’ll get over it.”

  His boss chuckled. “I should introduce you to my niece.”

  Gabe rolled his eyes. “You’ll need to get in line behind my mother if you want to set me up on a date.”

  “Is Mama Soldani anxious for grandchildren?”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you don’t have a date anyway. She’d be pissed at having to spend a snowy Saturday night alone.”

  “No doubt. But there’s always makeup sex.”

  “Don’t let Mama Soldani hear you say that.”

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  His boss laughed. “When do you think you can get here?”

  “Give me about forty-five minutes.”

  “Christ, Gabe, you only live ten minutes away and that’s walking.”

  “I need to pick something up on the way.”

  He guessed his mother’s desire to feed people had clearly rubbed off on him because the “something” he needed to pick up was a stack of pizzas for the staff from his favorite hole in the wall—although his mother would have managed to whip up lasagna or baked ziti instead of buying pizza. Still, he’d had his heart set on pizza, and food from outside the hospital was always greeted with elation. Tonight was no different.

  In spite of Dr. Sweeny’s worries, it was unusually quiet. There hadn’t been a major influx of pediatric patients and when Gabe arrived, Davis, the pediatrician scheduled to work, had things well in hand. Gabe kicked back in the lounge with a slice and watched a little of the Olympic coverage anyway.

  However, a few hours later, all hell broke loose. There was a huge pile-up on the 495. Thankfully, no seriously injured kids had been brought in so far, so Gabe pitched in to help with other victims as ambulances arrived.

  An emergency medical technician hopped out of an ambulance and started giving a report while unloading a stretcher. The patient was strapped to a backboard and wearing a rigid cervical collar. “Hey, Doc, crazy night. We have an unresponsive female in her late twenties with a presumed head injury. She has some swelling on the back of her head but no severe, gross trauma. Her vital signs are stable, pupils equal and reactive to light. She’s banged up—bruised and minor lacerations. Most of the blood is from a small laceration above her left eye and it’s already stopped bleeding. It looks like she might have a broken left arm and maybe some broken ribs. We stabilized her spine. I started a twenty gauge in her right forearm and hung lactated Ringers.”

  Gabe frowned. “She’s completely unresponsive?”

  “Yup, even to painful stimulus. She’s a three on the Glasgow coma scale.”

  He started giving orders as they rolled her to an exam room. “Shelly, start another line and send blood for a CBC and chem panel. Get a tox screen and blood alcohol too. And let’s get a Foley in.” He asked the EMT, “Was she driving?”

  “No, she was in the back passenger side of a cab. The impact was to the rear driver’s side. She was wearing a seatbelt. ”

  Gabe grabbed an ophthalmoscope from the wall and double-checked her pupillary responses before assessing her optic fundi for signs of increased intracranial pressure. He took a step back so she could be moved from the ambulance stretcher to the hospital gurney and looked at her, taking in her appearance for the first time. “Jesus Christ. Get Chuck in here.”

  “What’s the matter, Gabe?” asked one of the nurses.

  “If he’s free, I’d rather not treat her. I know her. Her name is Elizabeth Quinn. Dr. Elizabeth Quinn. She’s an old girlfriend.”

  ~ * ~

  It was midmorning before things finally quieted down and Gabe could take a break. He sat alone in the lounge, drinking a bad cup of coffee and thinking about Elizabeth. Of course, he hadn’t been able to get her off his mind from the moment he’d recognized her. Hell, it had taken several years to stop thinking about her after the last time he saw her: the day they graduated.

  The door opened and his friend, Chuck, Dr. Charles Zaminisky, walked in. Gabe really didn’t want to talk about this, but it was too much to hope that Chuck would let it drop.

  “So, an old girlfriend.”

  “Yup.”

  “Did you say you knew her from medical school?”

  “Yup.”

  “According to her driver’s license, she just turned twenty-eight last week.”

  “Yup.”

  “You’re five years older.”

  “Yup.”

  “Damn it, Gabe, could you say something more than ‘yup’? How could you have dated her in medical school? Was she an undergrad?”

  Gabe sighed. “No, she was in my class. She wasn’t your typical med student. For that matter, she’s not your typical anything. She was one of those genius kids who sailed through high school and college in record time. She was eighteen when we started med school, but no one knew how young she was for ages.”

  “How the hell is that possible? Teenagers are…well, teenagers.”

  “She didn’t look like a teenager. You saw her. She’s only about five three, but she’s always had curves.” Luscious, womanly curves that Gabe had adored. “She’s looked pretty much like that for the last ten years. Plus, she didn’t dress like a teenager. I don’t think I ever saw her in jeans until after I started dating her. She always wore sharp, business-like clothes.”

  “Yeah but, like, an eighteen-year-old girl, in like medical school? How could you like, not know…like?” Chuck gave his best imitation of a particularly annoying teenager.

  “She didn’t act young, either. In class or clinical environments, she was the picture of confidence. Not in the cocky, competitive way. She was smart and quiet. She never volunteered anything, but if she was asked a question, she always knew the answer. I mean always. I never saw anyone trip her up. All in all, she transmitted a no-nonsense, I’m-going-places-stay-out-of-my-way kind of vibe. And most people did stay out of her way.”

  “When did you find out how old she was?”

  “That bomb didn’t drop until the end of our second year. She was in my clinical rotation group. Rotations were over, and we decided to go out to a local bar to celebrate. We’d done it before, but Elizabeth had always begged off. We were determined not to let her that night. We kept insisting, and she kept trying to say no. George Reed, a total dick, finally said: ‘If the princess can’t pull the stick out of her ass long enough to have a drink with us, to hell with her.’”

  “A little harsh.”

  “Yeah. She turned several shades of red, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable, and said ‘I’m not twenty-one, so they won’t let me in the bar.’ Then she just turned and walked away.”

  “Why’d she keep it such a secret?”

  “I think she didn’t want the attention. She just wanted to keep her head down and become a doctor. She didn’t want to be Doogie Howser.”

  “I can see someone wanting to do that. And I’ll bet the dick called her Doogie from that moment on.”

  “Princess Doogie, actually.”

  “Why princess?”

  “As it turns out, George had asked her out earlier in the year, and she’d declined. It couldn’t have been because she was young and he was a dick, so he decided because she drove a ’96 Audi A4 and wore nice clothes, she thought she was too good for him.”

  “It sounds like she was too good for him, but then again, she was probably too good for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. But she dated you anyway?”

  “Yeah. To this day, I think she is one of the most attractive women I’ve ever met. I finally got the courage to ask her out and she said yes. And she kept saying yes. It turns out, I was her first boyfriend.”

  “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s first.”

  “It does make things different. At least it did for me. I fell head over heels.”

  “What happened?”

  “You know how important family is to me. I talke
d about my family all of the time. She always seemed interested and asked questions. I took her to visit one weekend. She seemed to really enjoy it, and they liked her.”

  “And her family?”

  “That was the problem. Every time her family came up in conversation, she sidestepped it. The only thing I really knew was that her parents lived in Baltimore and she was an only child.”

  “Was she ashamed of them?”

  “I think she was ashamed of me. They came for graduation. Two parents, four grandparents. Whereas, my whole big Italian family was there. She was the valedictorian, so she was on the dais with the VIPs. We didn’t meet up until afterward, but I’d learned who she really was by then. Turns out, she was a princess. At least the closest thing to it in America. The whispers began circulating before the ceremony started.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Alastair Matheson’s granddaughter.”

  “Alastair Matheson as in Matheson & Matheson, one of the largest law firms in the country?”

  “Yup. Her mother is Charlotte Matheson Quinn, the other half of Matheson & Matheson. But it doesn’t stop there—she’s in the medical aristocracy, too. Her other grandfather is Dr. Giles Quinn, a pioneer in cardiac surgery.”

  “Damn. So her dad is James Quinn?”

  “Yup, another key opinion leader in thoracic surgery.”

  “How the hell did she keep that quiet?”

  “The same way she kept her age quiet: she just didn’t tell anyone. Jesus, the administration didn’t even know. They were falling all over themselves when they realized it that day. She finally introduced me after the ceremony at the reception.”

  “What were they like?”