Healing His Widowed Heart. Annie Hemby
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if he went home, the beautiful Lexie might be there.
Beautiful? Had he really just thought that? He preferred to think of her as an inexperienced doctor who needed to return to wherever she’d come from. Even though he had to admit having extra help at the center was nice.
Mason started digging again—harder and faster. Maybe the smoke was playing with his thinking.
A loud crack interrupted his thoughts.
“Heads up!” someone yelled through the trees.
His eyes immediately followed the familiar sound through the dense gray smoke hanging in the air. A tree was coming down. Maybe the fire had gotten to it. Maybe the vibration of the machinery on the ground had rattled an already fragile pine. His eyes darted toward the path the tree would most likely take in its fall. Everyone was safe. With a prayer on his lips, Mason began to run, too. The farther away he could get, the better.
A second later, the ground shook with impact.
Mason’s heart raced and blood hammered his eardrums as he turned to inspect the damage. There was more danger here than just the fire. That was a lesson that the newer firemen hadn’t learned yet. They would though, in time. That’s why they worked as a team. He had everyone’s back and everyone had his for the safety of all. In Mason’s experience, that wasn’t true with doctors. They had the backing of their own knowledge, and a new doctor had less knowledge than one with decades of experience. Maybe if Kristin had seen someone else at the emergency room after her accident, she’d still be alive.
Mason swallowed, pushing down the what-ifs. They didn’t help. His wife was gone. She’d trusted him and the young doctor who’d taken care of her. Ultimately, it had been God’s plan to take Kristin. Mason knew that in his head. His heart ached with her loss, though, and no matter how much counseling he’d done, he couldn’t help feeling like he could’ve changed what had happened that day.
Mason walked toward the shovel he’d thrown down when he’d started to run. His cell phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it to his ear. “Hello.”
“Hey, buddy,” Dave said. “Trevor is on his way to see a doctor. One of the older kids is dropping him off.”
Mason froze. “What happened?” he asked.
“A skateboarding accident. Don’t worry, he’s okay. Just a little scraped up. He’s going to need a ride home, though.”
Mason was already walking in the direction of his truck. Trevor was one of the teens at the Teen Center. He was a great kid with a big heart, who just needed a little extra adult influence in his life.
“I’m on my way to the hospital now,” Mason said, picking up speed. He spotted his truck in the distance.
“I think he’s going to that new health care clinic instead,” Dave told him.
Acid rose up in Mason’s throat. Trevor’s mom worked two jobs, and they didn’t have health insurance. No way was he going to let Trevor trade his fear of a big hospital bill for proper health care. Mason didn’t want to see anyone do that, especially the teens. A lot of them came from low-income families. Some were smoking, abusing drugs, dealing with stuff that they were afraid to tell their parents about. They needed health care, of course, but not from inexperienced doctors like Lexie.
He climbed into his truck and cranked the engine. He needed to get to the clinic as soon as possible to make sure Trevor was treated by Dr. Marcus instead.
A few patients had wandered into the free health care clinic this morning, but the pace had been slow. Dr. Marcus definitely could’ve handled this on his own, but Lexie was glad to be here. And hopefully, as word got out about the clinic, there’d be more patients.
When a teenage boy walked in the front door that afternoon, she turned to Dr. Marcus.
“Do you mind seeing him?” Dr. Marcus asked, pretending to be busy.
Lexie nodded thankfully and led the young boy back to her examining room.
“Where is your mother?” she asked as he climbed onto the table.
“At home. She told me to come here. It was just a skateboarding accident. Happens all the time,” the kid said. Lexie recognized him from the Teen Center the other night. He was wearing an oversize button-down shirt and had a backward ball cap on his head. There was a grin on his childlike face despite the intermittent grimace that came when he moved his arm.
Lexie nodded, turning her focus to his wrist. She’d already palpated the bone and he’d nearly jumped off the table. His wrist wasn’t broken, just sprained. A dark pool of purple blood resided just below the skin between his forearm and hand. She gently placed an ice pack over it.
“Ouch!” The boy shifted uncomfortably.
Lexie lifted her gaze to the rectangular bulge in his front pocket. “I’m more concerned about those cigarettes in your pocket. You’re not even eighteen.”
His mouth dropped slightly. “They’re not mine. They’re for my mom.”
“I see.” She twisted her mouth to one side thoughtfully, knowing a lie when she heard one. In the sterile room, she could smell the stale smoke clinging to his clothing. “Do you know the harmful effects that smoking can have on a body? You’re young now and probably think you’re invincible, but cigarettes are bad for your health,” she warned.
The teenager stared at her, his eyes glazing over. He wasn’t listening. He might as well have had earbuds blasting music in his ears like all the teens she’d seen around did lately.
“By the time you’re my age, you’ll be short of breath just going up a flight of stairs if you keep that up. You certainly won’t be fit enough to ride your skateboard.”
“They’re for my mom,” the teen said again, his gaze skittering to the wall behind her.
She frowned. “Well, in that case, you should tell your mother that I advise her to quit the habit and take care of herself, because she’s worth taking care of. And so are you.” Lexie pulled a pen out of her white lab coat and jotted down something on her prescription pad. She wasn’t sure her patient was fully listening to her right now, and she wanted to make sure he followed her instructions. “Rest your wrist. Keep ice on it over the next few hours and take over-the-counter ibuprofen for the swelling. You should be fine by tomorrow, but if you’re not I want to see you back here in my examining room.”
The kid nodded. “Okay.”
“And I’d give the skateboard a rest for the next few days. You don’t want to fall on your arm again while it’s healing.”
The kid jumped down from the examining table. “Thanks, Doc.” He took the paper and started to walk toward the door.
“And remember to tell your mother my advice about those cigarettes,” she said, even though she was really advising him. “Quitting now will be easier than trying to quit later. Taking care of yourself is important.”
Lexie opened the door for him and froze at the sight of Mason on the other side of it. “Mason. What are you doing here?”
His mouth was set in a deep frown just like last night. His gaze moved from her to Trevor. “I told you that you could call me anytime,” he told the boy. “I would have taken you to the hospital.”
“I just saw this doctor,” Trevor said, pointing at Lexie. He held up the piece of paper she’d handed him, which outlined her care instructions. “See? Rest and ice. That’s all I need.”
“And stop smoking the cigarettes,” Lexie added.
Mason’s brow lifted. “Really?” He shook his head. “We’ll talk later. Right now we’re getting a second opinion on that wrist.”