A Daddy Sent By Santa. Susan Carlisle
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him. Cracking all the heating picks she had, she placed them along his side then put another blanket around him. Now they had the chore of lowering him to the ground.
Dr. Samuels, with his bag across his shoulders, hoisted himself out of the cab. He must be freezing in his less-than-suitable clothes, but she hadn’t heard a complaint or seen a wince.
With Lewis wrapped burrito-style, she grabbed the rope and tied it around his thighs and shoulders. They couldn’t have Lewis slipping out of control.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve done this,” Dr. Samuels observed from behind her.
“No.” She didn’t slow to look at him. “Rick, you ready?”
“Ready.”
The doctor grabbed the rope. “What do I need to do?”
In the dim light provided by Rick’s flashlight and the running police cruiser headlights she could see Dr. Samuels’ fingers were turning dark. He would need attention as well. But that would have to wait until Lewis was taken care of. “We need to keep the rope taut between us as we lower him so that he remains as level as possible.”
He nodded.
“On three. One, two, three.”
Slowly they lowered Lewis a couple of feet to Rick’s waiting hands. Minutes later Lewis was on the ground and she was climbing off the tractor. She had just reached the pavement when she was bumped. The doctor had slipped. Seconds later they were sprawling entangled in the snow.
He was the first to recover. His arms were around her and his face close. “I’m sorry. Are you hurt?”
She blinked. “No.”
“Good.” He scrambled to his feet.
Lauren followed his lead.
“We need to get Lewis out of the elements and see where that ambulance is.” He hurried toward Rick, who was untying Lewis.
“I have the cruiser running so it’s warm. The back seat is clear,” Rick informed them.
As he and Rick carried Lewis around the back of the tractor to the waiting car, Lauren rushed to the far side of the vehicle. Opening the door, she climbed in as Rick laid Lewis’s shoulders on the seat. She placed her arms under Lewis’s armpits and pulled him toward her. As she did so Dr. Samuels helped by pushing from his end. She kept going until the boy lay across the seat. Before she could straighten up, the doctor joined her on her side.
“Let’s get a set of vitals on him,” he said with authority. “Rick, could you see to the guy in the truck? The best I could tell, he just has a head wound. I’m not sure how serious. Also, check the ETA on the ambulance.”
The doctor was good with issuing orders, but he had stood back when she’d been the one giving them earlier. Hadn’t arrogantly assumed command of the situation as other male doctors might have done. She appreciated his unspoken acceptance of her as his professional equal.
Lauren went to the other door, leaving him room to work. Putting down her bag, she removed her stethoscope and blood-pressure cuff. Lewis was so thin there was a chance she could get a reading from his calf. She didn’t want to remove the blankets or his jacket unless absolutely necessary. Instead she pushed at Lewis’s pants leg in an effort to get it beyond his boot top. Succeeding, she placed the cuff around his leg. With relief, she found it just fit.
“His heart rate is erratic. It wasn’t when I first checked,” Dr. Samuels said. “BP?”
“One forty-three over one hundred and two.”
He shook his head. “We’ve got to get him to a hospital. We don’t have time to waste. Can you get a temp while I check on Rick?”
“Yes.”
He disappeared into the night through the blinding snow.
Finding the thermometer, she closed the door to keep the heat in and carefully moved around to Lewis’s head and ran the electronic instrument over his forehead. Ninety-six. The acid taste of panic filled her. Lewis was well on his way to hypothermia. With a grateful heart and elation knowing no bounds, she saw the lights of the ambulance arriving.
Dr. Samuels came up behind her. “Go help Rick get the other man here while I report to the EMTs. I may need to ride in with Lewis.”
Lauren didn’t miss the concern in his voice or him blowing on his cupped hands. He was in pain as well was her guess. Would he shorten his stay in Last Stop after this adventure?
* * *
Paxton couldn’t remember the last time, or if there had ever been one, he’d done this much physical activity during patient care. He worked out regularly, but he was going to feel tonight’s exertions in the morning when he tried to get out of bed.
The lights of the ambulance had been a happy sight. Rick was helping the other man out of the truck when he left to meet the EMTs. He feared Lewis was going to end up having just as many issues from the prolonged exposure to the elements as he did from the actual accident.
When the first EMT approached, he introduced himself and gave a quick report of his examination of the man in the truck, then went into detail about Lewis’s care. The second EMT hurried to them with the gurney. Paxton went around to Lewis’s feet and crawled across the seat as the other two men worked Lewis’s shoulders onto the gurney. Minutes later they had him strapped down. Rick joined them, helping the EMTs get Lewis into the ambulance. As soon as the EMTs had Lewis secured inside, they immediately started working on him. Paxton was told he couldn’t ride in the ambulance. He responded, “Then I’ll see you at the hospital.”
He watched the ambulance leave and returned to the cruiser to check on his other patient. Lauren and Rick had sat him in the back seat. “I’m going to follow the ambulance in my car,” he told her.
“No, you’re not,” Lauren said in a firm voice that reminded him of his mother refusing him a cookie before dinner when he’d been a child. “I’m going to see about your hands after I get through with Mr. Thompson here. We’ve got to take him to the hospital as well, so Rick is driving.”
“I’ll call someone to come get your car. Are the keys in it?” Rick asked.
“Yes.” Paxton just experienced another element of culture shock. He’d never have left his keys in his car in Boston, even if he’d been the first medical person on the scene of a bad accident.
“Now get in the back seat,” Lauren ordered. “I need to have a look at your hands. You probably have the beginnings of frostbite. Are they numb?”
He had no choice but to admit, “Yeah, they are.”
“Let me see.” She grabbed a flashlight and shone it on his hands. “Ooh, the tips are already turning white. You should’ve been wearing gloves.”
“I have some in my suitcase but didn’t take the time to find them.”
“Next time you need to.” She pulled off her gloves and stuffed them in a pocket of her coat before reaching for his hands. “Bend them for me.”
He started to argue but with the way he felt and her tone of voice he thought better of it. Doing as she instructed, he was disappointed to find his fingers wouldn’t move. She was right, he had all the signs of frostbite.
To be ordered around by someone other than his parents was a new experience. Now that the adrenaline rush was over he was starting to register intense pain. He’d overextended his body in addition to his exposure to the increasingly frigid temperature.
He watched as she turned his hands one way then the other. Her fingers were strong and sure, yet tender. She’d pushed back her coat hood. Snowflakes hung like stars in the night sky in her thick dark hair. Even in the shadowy light he could tell she was pretty in a natural, wholesome way.
“You might as well do as she says because you won’t win,” the