Cheryl Wyatt - The Doctor's Devotion

A doctor’s vow

When he fled Eagle Point years ago, former air force trauma surgeon Mitch Wellington left only broken dreams behind. Now he’s back with a new dream—opening a trauma center in the rural area and saving lives. He hopes to hire the quick-thinking nurse who impressed him during an emergency. But Lauren Bates lost her faith and doesn’t believe she deserves to help anyone. Mitch knows firsthand what loss feels like. And it’ll take all his devotion to show Lauren that sometimes the best medicine is a combination of faith, community—and love.

“Lauren, listen to me. I need your help,” Mitch said.

She shook her head vehemently.

He swiveled his neck to watch the next chopper prepare to land.

No time to argue.

“Nurse Bates, I’m not asking. I’m ordering. Triage chopper number three, then meet me at four.”

Desperate hands came up to clutch his. “Mitch, please,” she rasped. “I can’t. I’m not qualified for trauma. I worked OB.”

Compassion vying with impatience, Mitch leaned close to her ear. “Lauren Esther Bates, I’m convinced God put you here for a reason. I don’t have enough manpower. I need you. People are dying. They need you. Go.” He gave her shoulders a gentle nudge—okay, more like a shove.

Tears streamed from her eyes. She spun and ran to the chopper.

CHERYL WYATT

An R.N. turned stay-at-home mom and wife, Cheryl delights in the stolen moments God gives her to write action- and faith-driven romance. She stays active in her church and in her laundry room. She’s convinced that having been born on a naval base on Valentine’s Day destined her to write military romance. A native of San Diego, California, Cheryl currently resides in beautiful, rustic southern Illinois, but she has also enjoyed living in New Mexico and Oklahoma. Cheryl loves hearing from readers. You are invited to contact her at Cheryl@CherylWyatt.com or P.O. Box 2955, Carbondale, IL 62902-2955. Visit her on the web at www.CherylWyatt.com and sign up for her newsletter if you’d like updates on new releases, events and other fun stuff. Hang out with her in the blogosphere at www.Scrollsquirrel.blogspot.com or on the message boards at www.LoveInspiredBooks.com.

The Doctor’s Devotion

Cheryl Wyatt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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May the Lord turn his face toward you

and give you peace.

—Numbers 6:26

This book is dedicated to the memory of my grandmother, Leavada Pauline Elliott, who passed away during the writing of this book. She was a lavish giver and lived a truly sacrificial life. She was all about others.

I am pretty sure God’s construction angels had to build an addition onto her house in Heaven in order to contain the rewards she had waiting for her when that sweet chariot came forth to whisk her from this life into eternity. I’m also pretty sure she had a mob of loved ones and friends racing to be first to meet her with a fishing pole. I’ll bet Jesus was the point man.

Utmost thanks to God for giving us time with her. Thank you, Jesus, for being Grandma’s perfect example of true sacrifice. For coming humbly, then living and dying hard in order to hand us the hope of Heaven. Thank You, Sweet Spirit, for hovering to help us look forward through grief clouds and glimpse assurance of seeing our loved ones again.

Immense thanks to Herrin and Memorial Hospital of Carbondale, Illinois, ICU and IMCU departments in particular. Every doctor, nurse and ancillary staff member who went above and beyond to not only care with deep compassion and dedicated skill for Granny Veda but for providing extraordinary emotional support and comfort care to us. Thanks also to Hospice of Southern Illinois. Denise (our fellow Okie), you are truly gifted and a blessing.

Special thanks to Sally Shupe, whose efficient eagle eyes with proofreading enabled me to spend more precious time with my grandmother. You are a wonderful line editor!

Melissa Endlich, thank you for continuing to believe in me. I have grown as a writer due to your editorial guidance. No doubt God put us together. I am so thankful you know my writing better than I do and that you steered me toward crafting stories about caregivers. Thank you for putting wind to the sail of this series.

To Rachel Kent, much love and thanks for your encouragement and character. You are blessed to be part of a stellar agency iconic in the industry and to be mentored by someone as well respected and forward-thinking as Janet Grant. May God turn His face toward you and give you, Books and Such and your families peace and blessings for your futures.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

Chapter One

“Change of plans, carrottop.”

Suitcase in tow, Lauren Bates smiled at Grandpa Lem’s voice coming through her cell phone. “What, you’re picking me up in your tractor?” She exited Refuge Airport. Southern Illinois welcomed her with breezy warmth and a bouquet of bright June colors she wasn’t accustomed to in Texas.

Lem chuckled. “Ought to since you haven’t come to see me in five years.”

Guilt whooshed in like planes on runways nearby. “I know, Grandpa. I’m sorry. What’s this plan change?”

“Accompany me to the ribbon-cutting of a new trauma center Doc Wellington founded at Eagle Point? Starts in half an hour.”

Anxiety knotted her gut. Not only was she weary hearing about Dr. Wellington, a medical facility was the last place she wanted to be. She sighed. “For you, Grandpa, I’ll endure it.”

“Good. We’re in a blue Dodge Ram. See you in a few.”

“We?” She maneuvered past people cluttering the sidewalk.

“Yes. Dr. Wellington’s helping me pick you up.”

“Why would you need help?” Lauren canvassed curbside cars and spotted a spiffy blue truck near the front.

“I don’t drive on streets anymore. Only fields.”

Alarm slowed her steps. “Why not?”

“In case you forgot, I’m nearing a hundred.”

She almost pointed out he was only turning seventy, but swift remembrance of her reason for this spur-of-the-moment trip halted her. Anticipation spiked as Lem exited the truck.

“Look who’s here!” Grinning and hunched, he seemed older and slower than she remembered. Lauren rushed him with a hug. His bear strength was gone. Tears welling, she squeezed thin ribs.

She’d come because of his sudden uncharacteristic fear over turning seventy. Terror struck her now, too, but according to that Dr. Wellington he always spoke of, Lem was healthy. Still, she’d had to come see for herself. She should’ve come sooner.

“I’ll take your bags,” a deep voice said behind her. Strong hands reached around and deftly lifted Lauren’s purse and colossal suitcase from between her and Grandpa.