Cheryl Wyatt - Doctor to the Rescue

Ian glanced down, resisting the urge to rest a calming hand on hers. “In case the need arises to surgically repair your arm.”

She had no clue that could be the least of her worries. Part of his job, for now, was to keep her clueless. If she were bleeding internally, increased anxiety could speed her pulse, hasten hemorrhage and put her life at risk.

“The break is bad, isn’t it?” Dread crinkled her forehead. “How soon can I use my arm?”

Ian’s determination sparked. “Only after it’s healed.”

Bri tensed and licked her lips. “And when will that be?”

Inside EPTC, they wheeled Bri into a trauma bay. “Depends on if soft tissue is involved or just bone. Six weeks minimum.”

“Six week—” Choked on the words, Bri tried to sit up. Kate restrained her. “I’ll never make the deadline!”

She must mean foreclosure proceedings. Caleb had filled Ian in. Bri’s face strained as he studied her. Sensing her struggle, Ian squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, then stepped out. Simple gesture. Sincere. Yet it seemed to make her want to cry more.

He wished he could help, but he had his own stuff going on. Deadlines from every direction. Work, plus training, plus helping set up a second trauma crew so EPTC didn’t lose vital funding.

Then there was Tia, his only daughter and number one priority. She should have been all along, but a mentally unstable mother and a cross-continental war had caused him to be a stranger in his daughter’s eyes.

Ian’s gut clenched. Sweat misted his palms. If he didn’t show in court today, that could put him in jeopardy with the judge who would decide Tia’s fate and their future as a family.

He eyed his watch, and hoped Lisa would get here soon or he’d be faced with abandoning a patient and breaking a battlefield promise to a brother-in-arms. Stress drove him to walk halls.

After pacing, Ian parked his anesthesia cart outside Bri’s bay. Regret multiplied. He’d promised Caleb to watch over her. He’d failed. He owed Caleb. Big-time. Ian reentered Bri’s room, intent on righting his wrong. “You hangin’ in there, Bri?”

Not until seeing her under fluorescent lighting did he realize how white-blond and silky long her hair was. Blinking swiftly, she aimed her pretty cornflower-blue eyes up at him, making him momentarily forget what he came in here for. Must be lack of sleep from a week’s worth of on-call nights. “Dr. Shupe, what turned me too stupid to heed Caleb’s warning?”

He wanted to chuckle. “It’s Ian. And trust me, my list of stupid things is twice as long as yours. Kate’s is triple.”

Kate snorted from the corner of the room and stepped out. Bri’s face sobered. “Seriously, what stripped my common sense today?”

“Could be the ominous bank notices you’ve been getting recently.”

She stared long and hard at him. “You know about that?”

He nodded. Bri lost the battle holding in her tears the second Kate came in carrying X-rays and a sympathetic expression. “Sorry, Bri. The bones aren’t aligned, so surgery is a must.”

Ian knew that could double her recovery time and triple her chances of losing the lodge. Compassion for Bri and Caleb washed over Ian. They had just lost their mom and were about to lose their childhood home and heritage. Not to mention the community was about to lose an iconic retreat center that once was, according to Mitch, the bustling pulse of the rustic, close-knit community.

The bank had planned to shut down and level the Landis family’s grounds, which included the main lodge, fourteen cabins and seven bunkhouses.

His morning runs around Eagle Point Lake revealed the retreat as a flat horizontal triangle. The main lodge made the point, seven cabins on either side angled out in two lines and bunkhouses formed a bottom line opposite the lodge.

“Bri, if you’re worried about losing the lodge, don’t be.”

Surprise flashed across her face. Tears welling up meant he’d hit a nerve. “Your cabins need to be fixed. I worked construction in college. Let me help.”

“I don’t accept anything for free.”

“You can’t be serious?” The stubborn set to her jaw said she was. “Fine. Caleb mentioned you have a child-care degree. I need a permanent sitter for Tia. Problem solved.”

“You mean, like a barter?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. Think about it.”

The next moments were a flurry of activity as Bri was assessed, prodded, questioned, medicated, primped with surgical garb and prepped.

Ian smiled at her. Her vitals had calmed after he’d proposed the barter. It could work. He’d just have to be brutal with his time, which meant no entertaining, no socializing and definitely no dating.

Lisa rushed up, tying her mask. “I’m here, Ian. Shoo. Go.”

Bri hyperventilated at the O.R. doors. Understandable, since, according to Caleb, their mom died in surgery. Ian brushed fingers along Bri’s hand. She clutched him in a death grip. “Please don’t tell Caleb I broke my arm. I’m scared it’ll distract him in combat. I can’t lose another family member. He’s all I have.” Her raw voice disintegrated.

That she was more concerned for her brother than for herself hit Ian to the core.

He held on to her fingers as long as he could. He was already late for court, and her orthopedic surgeon waited not so patiently. But Bri’s pleading eyes really got to him.

But, he had to get to court.

He also had to call her brother. If she had complications in surgery or under general anesthesia, they’d need directives from family. She’d be mad, but being a doctor wasn’t a popularity contest. It meant making hard decisions that sometimes caused pain. He averted his gaze.

“Ian, Caleb can’t know I’m in surgery. Okay?”

Despite the risk of making her angry by disregarding her request, Ian was convinced Caleb needed to know. Ian released Bri’s fingers and nodded to Kate to take her on in.

Even out of sight, Bri’s pleading face wouldn’t leave his mind. He sighed. Rounded the corner. Walked the hall. He pulled out his phone, knowing legally, ethically and morally, he had to call her emergency contact. He hoped it would be a nonissue.

Especially when Bri discovered he’d called her brother.

Caleb was a capable army medic. He could handle hard information and compartmentalize it in a way to keep his head in the game and not endanger himself or his fellow soldiers.

On the other hand, if something happened to Caleb...

Ian weighed his options, waffling between Bri’s atypical emotional plea and what his doctors’ creed dictate he do.

Ian sighed. This time at the irony of staring at a so-called smart phone while wondering if this would turn out to be the stupidest thing he had ever done.

His Hippocratic oath came to mind. But doubt assailed him. Her surgery was dangerous and she had no one else to call. Caleb had confided that their estranged dad was incapacitated in a nursing home. A sense of sadness over her isolation riddled Ian.

Nevertheless, he pulled up the number for Caleb’s commander, texted a message marked as urgent and pushed Send.

* * *

The morning after surgery, Bri woke from a groggy mist to a most pleasant sound. A masculine voice drawing close. A deep chuckle, then, “Get some sleep, Kate.”

Ian? Bri’s eyes fluttered open at the smell of evergreen. Ian’s cologne reminded her of Christmas. He approached and rested casual elbows on her bed’s side rail. “Good morning, Crash.”

A smile touched her lips before she could stop it. She took in Ian’s disheveled appearance. Wrinkled scrubs. Ruffled hair. Sleepy eyes and a shadow-roughed jaw she hoped he wouldn’t shave. “You look worse than I feel,” she fibbed. “Rough night?”