Felicia Mason - The Single Dad Finds a Wife

In her Volvo car, Spring placed her hands on the steering wheel, closed her eyes and prayed for Jeremy Camden and his father.

Then she headed to the hospital. She hated that it was under these circumstances, but she found herself pleased at the prospect of seeing David Camden again.

Hot on the heels of that came the realization that her thoughts were inappropriate on so many levels. Chief among them was that there was most likely a Mrs. Camden who loved him and that precious little boy. But the doctor’s suddenly sweaty hands and that little flutter in her gut gave evidence to another diagnosis—one of a far more personal nature.

For the first time in a long, long time, Spring found herself intrigued by a man, curious about his impression of her...and she fervently hoped there was no Mrs. Camden.

Chapter Four

Spring headed straight to the emergency department at Cedar Springs General Hospital. As one of the staff physicians at the medical center, she had a designated parking space and was able to bypass the entry used by other hospital employees.

On weekends, the emergency department—typically called an emergency room by the public, as if there was just one room to it—bustled with acute trauma cases, mostly of the do-it-yourself-home-improvement variety like broken arms and legs or fractures. Then there were the asthma attacks and bee stings, as well as the usual mix of possible heart attacks, allergic reactions to everything from peanuts to shellfish and the occasional car crash victim. Severe trauma patients who needed advanced care were airlifted to Durham, where specialists at Duke University’s emergency trauma hospital and facilities could handle burns, gunshot victims and the like. Thankfully, those cases were rare at Cedar Springs General.

Spring looked around but didn’t see either David or Jeremy Camden in the emergency department’s waiting room. This evening there was just a handful of people in the waiting area. Three people huddled together with a man who kept saying, “I’m not gonna let them touch me. I’m not gonna let them touch me.” And an elderly woman in a light blue pantsuit sat erect in one of the chairs facing the receptionist’s desk. The woman clutched her purse as if someone might try to snatch it from her grip.

The televisions were on; one wall-mounted plasma set displayed a cable news channel, while its twin depicted a late-night talk show host yukking it up with a celebrity guest.

“Hi, Dr. Darling,” a man said from behind her. “What are you doing here this time of night?”

Spring turned to see Joseph Bradshaw, one of the physician assistants. Dressed in green scrubs, the uniform of most of the emergency department staff, he held a chart and was making his way toward one of the bays.

“Hi, Joseph. I got a call from the father of a patient. Acute abdominal pain that’s gotten worse. They’re supposed to meet me here.”

“It’s been pretty quiet tonight,” Joseph said. “I haven’t seen—”

Just then the automatic doors whooshed open and David Camden rushed in, almost running, with his son in his arms. The panic in his eyes and his bearing arrested Spring. He spotted her almost immediately.

“Dr. Darling!”

“Joseph, I’m going to need a bed.”

“On it, Doc,” he said, heading toward the emergency bays.

“He woke up doubled over,” David said, approaching Spring. “And he threw up again.”

“All right,” Spring said as several emergency department aides rushed to take the boy.

“Daddy, my stomach hurts a lot,” Jeremy said. Adding emphasis to just how much, the boy moaned and burrowed in closer to David’s chest, instinctively seeking the protection of his father rather than the strangers with outstretched hands.

The sound tore at Spring. Little Jeremy’s moan was one of the most pitiful sounds she had heard in a long, long time.

“Dr. Spring is right here,” David told his son.

The boy lifted his head a bit. “Pretty Spring?”

“Yeah, buddy. It’s Dr. Spring.”

Despite the strain she saw evident in the worry lines at his mouth and brow, Spring heard a note of amusement in David’s voice as he answered Jeremy. She’d been called many things in her thirty-five years, but this cute little boy calling her pretty just tugged at her heart.

It was clear Jeremy had more than just a bad case of stomach flu or too many jelly beans. Her mind raced with possibilities, none of them good.

“Noooo!” Jeremy cried out when David tried to place him on the gurney manned by two orderlies.

“It’s okay, buddy,” David assured his son, who resisted lying down. “I’m right here.”

“Want Dr. Spring.”

“I’m here, too, Jeremy,” Spring said with a nod toward one of the orderlies. “If you’ll lay back, we’re going to take you into a room where I can see what’s making your tummy hurt. Okay?”

The little boy nodded and did as she requested, but tears streaked down his face and he sought his father.

Spring glanced up at David.

“Can I come back?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

* * *

Helpless and anxious, David watched as emergency room attendants wheeled his son into a room cordoned off with curtains and hooked him up to machines.

David was terrified, so he could only imagine how Jeremy must feel. He reached deep for the anchor that would stabilize him. He needed to be strong for his son, not show the panic that raced through him. His heart beat so fast that he feared he might end up on a gurney next to Jeremy.

A moment later, he was politely asked by one of the attendants to step back.

“I can’t leave my son.”

A soft hand on his arm drew his attention. Spring was there.

“David, you don’t have to. They just need some room to work.”

He glanced around and saw a nurse or a doctor wheeling some sort of machine. He quickly moved to a spot she indicated, where he could stand and hold Jeremy’s hand and not interfere with the tests they needed to run.

“Lord, you took her. Please don’t take him, too,” he whispered in an anguished plea. “He’s all I have.”

* * *

As she’d expected, the diagnosis wasn’t good. Fortunately, it was something that was fairly routine for the hospital. Spring consulted with the emergency department’s attending pediatrician while David Camden remained in the emergency room bay with Jeremy.

“We have done an ultrasound and a CT scan,” Timothy Paquette, the department’s pediatrician, told Spring.

Worried, Spring bit her lip. “I sent him home thinking it was just gastroenteritis.”

“I would have done the same thing,” Dr. Paquette said. “I took a look at the lab you did at the clinic. With his other symptoms, it made sense.”

Spring nodded, but his words didn’t make her feel any better. She just wanted to take Jeremy in her arms and hug all the hurt away.

“You want to talk to his father, or should I?” Paquette said. “Dr. Emmanuel should be here in about five minutes. The OR is ready just as soon as he gets here and the father gives the okay.”

“I’ll tell him,” she said, knowing from experience the reaction he would have.

David jumped up from his chair when Spring entered the waiting room. Telling him his son was so sick wasn’t going to be pleasant; this part of the job never was.

“Mr. Camden—”

“Call me David,” he said, grabbing her hand. “Is Jeremy all right?”

He was clutching her hand so tightly that Spring winced.

He immediately dropped it. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about Jeremy.”

Spring resisted the urge to massage her throbbing hand. “He has appendicitis,” she said. “Dr. Adam Emmanuel is ready to operate once we get your approval.”