The Doctor's Devotion. Cheryl Wyatt
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lab coat as they approached the fleet. Gas fumes permeated the air. “What happened?”
The medic’s eyes hooded. “Texting teen crossed the center lane. Hit a minivan, which spun into a third car. Perpetrating car ejected unbelted passengers. Twelve victims in all. Van folks in bad shape, but we can make it to St. Louis with them.”
“Who’re you leaving with us?”
“Both ejected teens. Driver’s bad, but not as grave as her passenger. Three more too critical for Refuge, and St. Loo’s too far. Place is a godsend.” He indicated Mitch’s center.
“Who’s the imminent death?” Mitch searched chopper windows.
The paramedic pointed to where Ian worked on a critical patient as Kate hurtled the gurney toward the entrance—which Mitch just now realized was still belted in uncut camo ribbon.
He dashed over, pulled his hook knife and slashed the band machete-style seconds before Ian and Kate torpedoed through.
“Not the way you envisioned the ribbon-cutting, huh?” Lauren, who’d jogged up, asked. “Got an extra stethoscope?”
Mitch draped his over her neck and squeezed her shoulders in respect and gratitude. She nodded, then bolted back to the field. Her previous terror and hostility had vanished. Thank You, Lord.
He headed toward operating rooms. Had they even taken the plastic off the equipment yet? If only they had a bigger crew.
But Mitch had wanted to honor the community by saving remaining positions for townspeople needing work.
Ian looked to be thinking similar thoughts. “I got this case. You rally the troops. We need more help. I wish your pararescue jumper friends were here. We could use the PJs’ elite medical skills.”
“No doubt.” But the special operations paramedics were on a mission. Mitch ran back out. Scanned the crowd.
Lord, come on. You know I can’t do this without—
Like exclamation points on the end of his prayer, Mandy Briggs, pediatrician wife of one of the PJs, rushed up. “I’m here to help.”
Mitch nodded. “Anyone else medical, we need ’em. Check ID then team up with a nurse named Lauren at chopper three.”
“Will do.” Mandy instructed medical people to see her immediately. While she vetted, Mitch skimmed accident reports texted from EMTs and police officers on scene.
Amid nurses bearing badges, a uniformed man came forward. “The mayor sent me over, ma’am. I’m an experienced army medic on family medical leave.”
“Excellent. See him.” Mandy directed him to Mitch.
He approached Mitch, raring to go. “Name’s Caleb Landis. What can I do, sir?” He bounced on the balls of his feet and looked unafraid and eager to help. He had the air of a born leader. Good.
Mitch pointed to a chopper. “Triage that one.”
“Yes, sir.”
The head flight medic faced Mitch. “Those three are red-light critical and one grave. Wanted to give you a status. We didn’t have your contact info before because—”
“No one expected this,” Mitch finished for him.
The paramedic nodded. “Most docs would take my head off for not calling first. Thanks for letting us drop without notice.”
Mitch waved him toward his rig. “I call it teamwork.”
“I’d offer my teams to stay and help but we’ve had two more trauma calls across the river.” Apology resided in his eyes.
“We’ll take it from here. You’re free to fly.”
The second the medic settled in his chopper, it lifted.
How was Lauren holding up?
Mitch found her hovering expertly over a patient. She didn’t appear frazzled, but focused and quick on her feet. She held a terrified patient’s hand and spoke softly while wheeling the gurney. Mandy walked alongside, adjusting IV lines. No one rushed, so the patient must not be as critical. Just scared. The way the trembling woman’s eyes fixed to Lauren’s convinced Mitch that Lauren knew calmness was contagious, and she deftly infused it.
Despite the carnage outside, Mitch smiled. Lauren was meant to do this. Take care of broken people.
Lem had given Mitch a summer to-do list that included several big repairs prior to them learning Lauren was coming.
Perhaps repair of a different sort was meant to happen this summer. More than what they had anticipated. Mitch could fix Lem’s tractor, his deck and his aging kitchen and other projects. But he also determined to get through to Lauren’s broken place by summer’s end. Repair the rupture that had so wounded her soul, she’d walked away from the career Mitch was confident had comprised her calling. Then Lem would worry less over her.
Mitch got updates on all triaged patients then headed to the next critical. He threw on a surgical cap and mask, scrubbed in and backed through his sterile suite. Thankfully, someone had readied the room. Nurses from somewhere were gowned and counting instruments. Eagle Point. Welcome home.
The staff gowned and gloved Mitch, then transferred the patient in. Mitch began exploratory surgery. “Clamp.”
Someone pressed it into his hand. “Clamp.”
“Scalpel.” Mitch grew impressed at the speed and accuracy with which she passed instruments.
Intense part of the surgery over, Mitch tilted to view the assistant and found himself absorbed in Lauren’s eyes. Delight rippled through him. He smiled, though she couldn’t see through his mask. “Hello, Nurse Bates. Thought you sounded familiar.”
She blinked rapidly, which revealed how nervous she was. Her cheek above the mask twitched.
He leaned closer. “You’re doing great, Lauren.”
“You, too,” she whispered back.
“Suture.”
She pressed it confidently into his hand. “Suture.”
He hadn’t even told her what thread size or type. Nice.
Upon closing the wound, Mitch rested his elbow against Lauren’s. He liked the feel of her working at his side. “So, Bates, my recovery nurse pulled out at the last minute, which means I’m hiring. You interested?”
She scowled above her mask. “Are you insane?”
He laughed. “Guess that’s a no.”
She shook her head, proving she really thought he was crazy. After the patient was moved to recovery, Lauren stayed while Mitch checked the progress of other patients. Surgeons and staff had come from nearby Refuge. Mandy or the mayor must’ve called for backup. Mitch didn’t recognize anyone from when he had lived in Eagle Point prior to entering the service. Hard to tell with no one in street clothes. Not even his primary trauma team.
Mitch was glad Eagle Point’s reporter suggested they wear scrubs for the ribbon-cutting to look official. Instruments in his lab coat had saved life-giving seconds. God had ways of taking care of them and patients in their charge. Like choppers being present. Therefore Mitch believed God would fix his acute staffing problem. Lord, if You could do that STAT, I’d appreciate it.
Lauren approached that instant and handed him a chart. Hmm. “We’ve cleared a room and pre-opped the next case.”
“Would you like to assist me again?” He smiled.
She scowled. “Would you like a knuckle sandwich?” She sighed. Tilted her head. “Fine. If you need the help, I will.”
“We have sufficient help now.”
Her eyes widened. “Then why on earth would you ask me? I’m not cut out for this.”