Cheryl Wyatt - Doctor to the Rescue

Lip twitching, he ripped an O.R. mask off his neck. “Yeah. The shortest day of the year feels like infinity.”

“That’s right. Today’s the first day of winter.” She also recalled the barter. “Were you serious yester—”

Rock music chimed. Annoyance flashed across his face as if it were the call coming across his touch screen. Ian’s reaction made her courage disappear, taking her back to intimidating tones Eric had used when she’d unwittingly called at “inconvenient” times.

Ian touched his cell phone. “Shupe.”

“Ian, this is your neighbor,” said an older woman. “I want to make you aware your little’n wandered over here again.”

Ian’s face snapped up, his expression full of worry. “Tia’s there?”

“Yes. I’m guessing your babysitter got too busy texting again to realize Tia was gone. Again.”

Ian’s jaw rippled. “I’ll be there right away, Miss Ellie.”

“I’d watch her for you, but I’ve got chemo today.”

“No, no, Ell. You need to keep your appointment.” His voice, tender upon first hearing Ell’s voice, softened more.

Suddenly realizing Bri had heard the entire conversation, Ian masked his features and stepped out.

His child care wasn’t working out and he was considering a leave from EPTC, which opened mere months ago. His absence would strain staff and halt expansion projects. She knew about those from small-town breakfast chatter at Sully’s, a local mom-and-pop eatery.

Also, Mitch, EPTC’s founder, requested prayers at Eagle Point Lake Pavilion’s “PRAYZ” gathering Tuesday, a weekly event Lauren and Kate had invited Bri to attend. Bri had learned there of Ian’s struggles with Tia, whose mom had abandoned her. Bri had her own wounds from when her father had left them destitute. Like her neurotic inability to accept help.

Would Ian be angry if he knew people prayed for him? Eric had gone ballistic upon discovering she confided in praying pals about their faltering relationship. She’d been foolish to let him bully her into staying together. Never again would she let a man intimidate and manipulate her with angry words and arctic moods.

Ian exited an office across the hall and reentered her room. He grabbed his lab coat off a wall hook, brusque motions depicting the strain of a struggling single dad who hadn’t gotten enough sleep in the two weeks Tia had been living with him. He stormed for the door, then doubled back.

He snatched a parent how-to book off her chair, evidence he’d been here before. Her gaze sought his. Face stony, he crammed the book under his arm. Why hide it? No one blamed him for wanting to be a better dad. He left in a stiff, halfhearted daze.

Fifteen minutes later, the sound of a little girl crying pierced Bri’s heart. “I don’t wanna come here! I want my mom!”

Ian passed by with a tiny flailing person clad in a purple tutu. His face and bulky arms were severely strained, and the child was crying like a banshee. “I want my mo-o-om!”

But your mom doesn’t want you.

Bri knew that from town chatter, too—that Ian fiercely shielded Tia from her mom’s rejection.

“I don’t want you! I don’t know you!” Tia screamed at Ian.

“I know, Tia. I’m sorry,” Ian said, his voice raw but gentle. “But I know and love you. Things will end up all right. I promise.”

Bri hoped Ian believed his own words. But while his voice was calm and confident, his eyes were desperate.

Thankfully, Tia couldn’t see. Her face was red, and her cries gradually softened to hiccuppy whimpers.

Ian walked the floor with Tia swaddled in the strength of his arms. He swayed her, feet bouncing in gentle rhythmic daddy-dance Bri hoped Tia would recognize as his way of infusing security and comfort. Bri’s heart squeezed.

How could she complain about her own problems when fragile Tia was in such harrowing turmoil? Bri’s heart broke for the little girl.

Lord, mend this broken family. Help Tia trust her daddy. Help her daddy trust You. Prove to them You Are.

The next time Ian passed, Tia rested a chafed and soppy cheek against his broad shoulder. Ian’s tenderness melted Bri.

Wow. He wasn’t the icy-hearted guy she thought she knew. Bri strained to see past shadows muting her view. Emotion glimmered in his eyes. He didn’t look as though he had strength left to care who saw it, either. Though Ian’s brooding insolence reminded Bri of Disney’s Beast, she’d help them for Tia’s sake.

Kate entered with Bri’s bone surgeon, who examined her, wrote discharge orders and left. Kate handed Bri a gift bag.

“Clean clothes!” Bri’s heart swelled at the gesture. Kate helped her dress around the cast. “Um, is Ian still here?”

“I’ll send him in.” As Kate stepped out, she smirked.

Ian walked in, looking worn and weary, moments later. “Kate’s watching Tia so you can speak with me. What’s up?”

Bri’s nerves coiled like a Slinky. “About that barter. We’re still on, right?”

Ian smiled like a sunrise. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. Bring Tia tomorrow morning, in fact.”

His gaze tacked across her casted arm. “Not sure that’s—”

“My surgeon said I could still train for the fundraising marathon. If I can run a 5K race, I can chase a kindergarten-bound kid.”

“‘Chase’ is right.” His face sharpened. Eyes narrowed. “How did you know her age and that she’s starting school next year?”

“Uhm, I—” she stammered. “It’s a small town. People talk, Ian.”

His mouth thinned. “Apparently.”

“So, about that barter...”

“You’ll let me help renovate the lodge, no resistance?”

“None. You save my cabins from foreclosure. I solve your child-care problem.” She reached out her hand. “Deal?”

He hesitated, then shook guardedly, nodding to her cast. “Deal. So long as you don’t overdo it and undo the repairs we did.”

“We?”

He scrubbed his neck. “Yeah. I, uh, scrubbed in for your surgery.”

“Why? It’s not like my injuries were life threatening.”

His silence unnerved her, and negated her statement.

“Thanks, Ian. That was nice of y—”

“It’s my job,” he responded too quickly. She opted not to inform him he wasn’t convincing. She stuffed her feet into her shoes and realized she couldn’t tie them one handed.

He knelt and did it for her without her having to ask.

Bri bristled and cringed. She hated to be the one needing help.

“Thanks. By the way, the really caring guy I glimpsed on the asphalt yesterday? Then today in the hall hoisting a princess in poufy purple? I hope he sticks around awhile.”

Chapter Two

Ian hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

He was who he was, and that was that. Appeasing Bri wasn’t a priority. Yet, here he was, trekking to her house with Tia.

Coyotes howled in the dusky morning distance. Not distant enough for his liking. He put himself between the woodlands and Tia as they crossed a forest-flanked parking lot between the ritzy state-of-the-art trauma center and Bri’s humble log home. Another feral round of howls sounded. He reached for Tia.

She jerked away, pink tutu fanning her jeans. “I don’t want to hold your hand and I don’t wanna go to her icky tree house.”

Ian stopped. Eyed Bri’s place. Icky? Hardly. Tree house? He smiled. Tia had obviously never seen a log home before. It did look pioneerish under the effect of a purple twilight.

“Tia, I have to be in surgery with my patient in twenty minutes.” He gritted his teeth and ignored the guilt.

A newborn winter breeze rustled Tia’s curly brown hair and caused it to fall over her amber-eyed scowl. As they passed the luminous main lodge and approached Bri’s cabin, Tia got busy in bribe mode. “Please-don’t-make-me-go!” came out as one word. Her face brightened. “I’ll even clean my room.”