Doctor to the Rescue. Cheryl Wyatt
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Ian plucked sage twigs, fiery leaves and feathers from her hair. “Nest?”
“Almost.” Kate winked and strode in her usual militant but graceful fashion. How Kate could be runway-model pretty and a black belt was beyond Bri, but Kate was someone Bri was glad to know. Except she aimed a needle at her now.
Bri squished her eyes until the worst was over. Eyes open, she realized she’d not only grabbed Ian’s arm but left crescent marks. Bri recoiled, fearing an acrid verbal assault like ones Eric was prone to.
But Ian didn’t seem fazed. Calmly and gently, he wiped his arm with sterile gauze.
Perhaps Bri’s friends had been right: the craggy, abrasive creature she’d experienced these past few weeks wasn’t the real Ian.
* * *
Ian refused to react to the sting of Bri’s nails. She was anxious, hurting and stressed, so her actions were understandable.
Odd, though, her latching onto him for comfort so easily. Especially since he’d been a total jerk to her for weeks.
Not liking the claws of guilt scraping at him, Ian adjusted Bri’s IV drip and faced Kate, jotting Bri’s vitals. “She needs antibiotics, trauma labs, X-rays and CTs stat.”
Kate nodded. They effortlessly hefted the backboard to the gurney and push-ran Bri, who was so tall her heels almost hung off the end.
Kate’s cell chimed. Without missing steps, she answered. “Hey, wanna start this way? Ian needs to cut out and we have an incoming ladder mishap. Yeah. Lodge owner next door.”
“Lisa, my nurse anesthetist.” Ian couldn’t miss this court hearing. Yet he couldn’t leave Bri. Her condition could skid off a cliff without warning. Eighty percent of people falling from heights of eleven feet or more died. She’d fallen nine. Internal injuries didn’t always present right away.
He’d learned that the hard way, overseas while deployed with Mitch, Kate and other air force trauma-team members who had yet to join them at EPTC, Mitch’s stateside endeavor.
“Why would I need an anesthes—that thing?” Bri swallowed.
Ian glanced down, resisting the urge to rest a calming hand on hers. “In case the need arises to surgically repair your arm.”
She had no clue that could be the least of her worries. Part of his job, for now, was to keep her clueless. If she were bleeding internally, increased anxiety could speed her pulse, hasten hemorrhage and put her life at risk.
“The break is bad, isn’t it?” Dread crinkled her forehead. “How soon can I use my arm?”
Ian’s determination sparked. “Only after it’s healed.”
Bri tensed and licked her lips. “And when will that be?”
Inside EPTC, they wheeled Bri into a trauma bay. “Depends on if soft tissue is involved or just bone. Six weeks minimum.”
“Six week—” Choked on the words, Bri tried to sit up. Kate restrained her. “I’ll never make the deadline!”
She must mean foreclosure proceedings. Caleb had filled Ian in. Bri’s face strained as he studied her. Sensing her struggle, Ian squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, then stepped out. Simple gesture. Sincere. Yet it seemed to make her want to cry more.
He wished he could help, but he had his own stuff going on. Deadlines from every direction. Work, plus training, plus helping set up a second trauma crew so EPTC didn’t lose vital funding.
Then there was Tia, his only daughter and number one priority. She should have been all along, but a mentally unstable mother and a cross-continental war had caused him to be a stranger in his daughter’s eyes.
Ian’s gut clenched. Sweat misted his palms. If he didn’t show in court today, that could put him in jeopardy with the judge who would decide Tia’s fate and their future as a family.
He eyed his watch, and hoped Lisa would get here soon or he’d be faced with abandoning a patient and breaking a battlefield promise to a brother-in-arms. Stress drove him to walk halls.
After pacing, Ian parked his anesthesia cart outside Bri’s bay. Regret multiplied. He’d promised Caleb to watch over her. He’d failed. He owed Caleb. Big-time. Ian reentered Bri’s room, intent on righting his wrong. “You hangin’ in there, Bri?”
Not until seeing her under fluorescent lighting did he realize how white-blond and silky long her hair was. Blinking swiftly, she aimed her pretty cornflower-blue eyes up at him, making him momentarily forget what he came in here for. Must be lack of sleep from a week’s worth of on-call nights. “Dr. Shupe, what turned me too stupid to heed Caleb’s warning?”
He wanted to chuckle. “It’s Ian. And trust me, my list of stupid things is twice as long as yours. Kate’s is triple.”
Kate snorted from the corner of the room and stepped out. Bri’s face sobered. “Seriously, what stripped my common sense today?”
“Could be the ominous bank notices you’ve been getting recently.”
She stared long and hard at him. “You know about that?”
He nodded. Bri lost the battle holding in her tears the second Kate came in carrying X-rays and a sympathetic expression. “Sorry, Bri. The bones aren’t aligned, so surgery is a must.”
Ian knew that could double her recovery time and triple her chances of losing the lodge. Compassion for Bri and Caleb washed over Ian. They had just lost their mom and were about to lose their childhood home and heritage. Not to mention the community was about to lose an iconic retreat center that once was, according to Mitch, the bustling pulse of the rustic, close-knit community.
The bank had planned to shut down and level the Landis family’s grounds, which included the main lodge, fourteen cabins and seven bunkhouses.
His morning runs around Eagle Point Lake revealed the retreat as a flat horizontal triangle. The main lodge made the point, seven cabins on either side angled out in two lines and bunkhouses formed a bottom line opposite the lodge.
“Bri, if you’re worried about losing the lodge, don’t be.”
Surprise flashed across her face. Tears welling up meant he’d hit a nerve. “Your cabins need to be fixed. I worked construction in college. Let me help.”
“I don’t accept anything for free.”
“You can’t be serious?” The stubborn set to her jaw said she was. “Fine. Caleb mentioned you have a child-care degree. I need a permanent sitter for Tia. Problem solved.”
“You mean, like a barter?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. Think about it.”
The next moments were a flurry of activity as Bri was assessed, prodded, questioned, medicated, primped with surgical garb and prepped.
Ian smiled at her. Her vitals had calmed after he’d proposed the barter. It could work. He’d just have to be brutal with his time, which meant no entertaining, no socializing and definitely no dating.
Lisa rushed up, tying her mask. “I’m here, Ian. Shoo. Go.”
Bri hyperventilated at the O.R. doors. Understandable, since, according to Caleb, their mom died in surgery. Ian brushed fingers along Bri’s hand. She clutched him in a death grip. “Please don’t tell Caleb I broke my arm. I’m scared it’ll distract him in combat. I can’t lose another family member. He’s all I have.” Her raw voice disintegrated.
That she was more concerned for her brother than for herself hit Ian to the core.
He held on to her fingers as long as he could. He was already late for court, and her orthopedic surgeon waited not so patiently. But Bri’s pleading eyes really got to him.
But, he had to get to court.