‘Would you like me to assist?’ he asked, hoping she’d refuse.

Ivy positively beamed, and took a step forward. For a moment she wore such a supreme look of relief that he thought she might kiss him.

He wouldn’t have minded. In fact, just the possibility of feeling her lips against his sent blood rushing through his body. Having such a strong physical reaction on the basis of merely thinking about a kiss plainly indicated he’d been alone for too long.

Jessica Matthews’s interest in medicine began at a young age, and she nourished it with medical stories and hospital-based television programmes. After a stint as a teenage candy-striper, she pursued a career as a clinical laboratory scientist. When not writing or on duty, she fills her day with countless family and school-related activities. Jessica lives in the central United States, with her husband, daughter and son.

Recent titles by the same author:

THE ROYAL DOCTOR’S BRIDE

THE BABY DOCTOR’S BRIDE

BY

JESSICA MATTHEWS

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To my family, whose unwavering support has been my inspiration.

THE BABY DOCTOR’S BRIDE

CHAPTER ONE

DESPERATE times called for desperate measures.

Ivy Harris parked her SUV on the circular gravel driveway in front of the hunting lodge commonly known as the old Beckett place. For a moment she clutched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip as she studied her surroundings.

The rustic house, built to resemble a log cabin, was nestled in a shady grove of cottonwood and oak trees. According to her father, the building sat on the edge of three hundred and twenty acres of private land, teeming with deer, quail and turkeys, and was a popular rental property during the hunting season. But she didn’t care about the house or the land or the wildlife. She was only interested in the lodge’s current resident.

After inhaling a bracing breath for courage, she slid out from the behind the wheel. There was no sign of human life—no vehicles, open windows or tools scattered around the yard—and she wondered if today’s excursion was simply a wasted effort. But she’d come too far to jump to conclusions. If Ethan Locke wasn’t here now he would eventually return, and she would be waiting.

Provided he didn’t take longer than her scheduled lunch break.

Her trainers crunched eerily against the gravel as she tramped up the path toward the front concrete steps, conscious of the birds merrily chirping overhead and two squirrels playing tag in the uppermost branches. For an instant she chided herself for not taking time to spruce herself up a bit, in an effort to give a good first impression, but in the next she was glad she hadn’t. She hadn’t come to make a fashion statement, with her khaki trousers, the yellow tank top with its faint pink stains courtesy of a small patient’s cherry lollipop, and her tennis shoes. Looking like the frazzled physician she was, rather than a woman ready for an afternoon of tea parties and shopping, could only help her cause—or so she hoped.

Determined to be as eloquent and as convincing as possible, she pounded on the weathered screen door.

No one responded.

She tested the screen door and found it unlatched. This time she pounded on the inside door.

Still no answer.

Slowly she closed the screen door and glanced at her watch. She could stay another fifteen minutes, but any longer than that would throw off her schedule. If her afternoon passed like most of them had, she’d be working until well past dinner.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. She sat on the front step and stretched out her legs. Without warning, a tall, chocolate-brown-haired man in his late thirties rounded the corner of the cabin, carrying a fifty-pound bag of birdseed over his shoulder. In spite of his rather disreputable state—ragged denim jeans, stained T-shirt, tousled hair and unshaven face—his lean physique and muscled chest made him worthy of a second glance.

Considering how it had been ages since she’d given any man another look, she was surprised by how easily this one had momentarily made her forget her purpose for being there.

“Hi,” she said brightly, jumping to her feet.

He dropped the bag next to a bird feeder in the front yard with a thump and straightened. His storm-cloud-blue gaze was direct, and his straight nose, square jaw, and well-defined cheekbones formed a breathtakingly handsome face. “Hello,” he said, in a deep, pleasant voice. “I hope you’re not lost and looking for directions, because I haven’t lived here long enough to be helpful.”

“I’m not,” she assured him. “I’m here because I’m looking for Ethan Locke.”

Suspicion instantly replaced his welcoming smile. “What do you want with him?”

“It’s personal. Do you know where he is?”

He hesitated for several seconds, as if unwilling to answer. “I’m Ethan Locke,” he finally said.

Impossible. She’d been told the man was retired, so this had to be his son. “I’m looking for Dr. Ethan Locke,” she stressed as she walked toward his side.

“In the flesh,” he answered gruffly.

“You’re Dr. Locke?” she asked, startled by his admission because she’d been expecting a much older man.

“Yeah, and who wants to know?”

The congenial man she’d first encountered had become a gruff, taciturn fellow. “Ivy Harris,” she said in her most friendly manner, although from his frown her effort was wasted. “I have to apologize,” she continued. “I’d been told you’d retired so I’d expected someone…”

“Gray-haired and walking with a cane?” he finished dryly.

Her face warmed. “Not quite. In any case,” she pressed on, “rumor says you’re a doctor. A pediatrician, in fact.”

“Not anymore. According to you I’m retired, remember?” He slit one corner of the bag with a utility knife, then began pouring birdseed into the feeder. “Did you want something in particular, or did you just drop by to interrupt my peaceful morning?”

For some reason referring to his profession had pressed one of his hot buttons, but she’d come too far to give up now. While she would have preferred to state her case with his undivided attention, she couldn’t demand he stop what he was doing when she had arrived unexpectedly and without an invitation. “I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?” He paused to rake an insolent gaze along her full length. “I’m flattered, but I’d rather not spend my days in jail.”

Her face warmed with embarrassment in spite of the shade-cooled breeze. “Not that sort of proposition,” she said loftily. “A business proposition.”

“Doesn’t matter what sort it is. My answer is no.”

“But you haven’t heard the details. The least you can do is listen. Please?” Trying not to beg, she added, “It’s important.”

“It always is,” he mumbled, before he set the bag of seed on the ground, reattached the lid to the feeder, and strode toward the cabin’s front door. “I suppose you’d better come inside.”

It wasn’t the most gracious welcome, but he was willing to hear her out, so she’d find her victories wherever she could.

In spite of his gruff manner, he courteously held open the screen door for her. “Thanks,” she murmured, equally polite.

As soon as she stepped across the threshold into the main living area she instantly felt at home. Because she spent nearly all of her day seeing patients in claustrophobic cubicles, open spaces appealed to her. If she had a place like this to come home to every night, she’d be one happy lady.

“This is quite impressive,” she said, taking in the rough-hewn log walls, the flagstone fireplace, the bear rug in front of a leather sofa and the overall “Southwest” interior design. At the opposite end of the great room stood an old oak table, large enough to accommodate eight comfortably, and a kitchen area that boasted modern appliances.

Furnishings aside, Ethan Locke dominated the space.

He clicked off the television, then crossed to the table, where a half-empty bottle of water stood, and drank deeply. “I’m sure you didn’t drive this far off the beaten path to discuss my accommodations,” he said when he’d finished.

“No, I didn’t,” she said, refusing to be intimidated by every inch of his six feet plus lean frame or the frown on his ruggedly bewhiskered face. “I need your help.”

“Oh?” Everything about him exuded skepticism, from the way he folded his arms across his massive chest to the suspicion shining in his blue-gray eyes.

“Actually, the whole town needs you.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” she insisted. “With our only family practitioner, Walt Griffith, gone—”

“What happened to him?”

“Nothing, but his brother in Phoenix had a stroke and he went to visit. Apparently he’s not doing well, and Walt thinks he could pass on anytime, so he doesn’t want to leave. Which is okay because a friend of his, Jed Richardson, has taken over.”

“Then I don’t see a problem.”

“Jed’s an internist, which means I’ve inherited all of Walt’s pediatric patients. I’m a pediatrician, too, by the way.”

“Lucky you.”

She ignored his comment, although she wondered at the reason for his attitude. “To make matters worse, I have seven kids with whooping cough.”

He frowned. “Aren’t you encouraging your parents to vaccinate their children? Or don’t they teach that in med school these days?”

“The ink may not be quite dry on my board certification,” she ground out, irritated by how easily he’d jumped to the wrong conclusions. She could quickly imagine what he’d think if he knew she’d moved here less than a month ago. “But Walt and I are both well aware of the importance of childhood vaccinations. Three of my cases are eight years and older, and are current with their shots. The other four are babies who haven’t received the full immunization regimen yet. They aren’t sick because of parental or physician negligence.”

He let out a deep sigh and stroked his face thoughtfully with one hand, which wasn’t an apology, but a reluctant acknowledgment of his wrong assumptions.

“What do you want from me?” he asked in a more modulated tone.

Hope rose and Ivy stepped closer. “Your help,” she answered promptly. “Your hands. Your expertise. I’m working twenty-four hour days, and I can’t be effective if I continue at this pace. It isn’t fair to my patients.”

“Hire a locum.”

“I’ve tried, but no one’s available until the end of the summer. You, on the other hand, are here and—” she met his dark-eyed gaze “—available.”

“I’m on vacation.”

“For how long?”

“Indefinitely. Think of me as being on sabbatical—which means I’m not sitting on the back porch, birdwatching.”

Picturing his huge bag of birdseed, she suspected he was, but it would be rude to correct him. She couldn’t risk alienating him more than she apparently already had. “Regardless of how you describe your stay, technically you’re free.”

“It means I’m not punching a clock or taking orders from someone else,” he countered. “And I’m not going to.”

She eyed him carefully, irritated by his refusal, and desperate to gain his cooperation. “Give me one good reason why you won’t help.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Not good enough.”

“What if I said I was sick?”

She gave him a quick once-over, noting how casually he stood straight and tall on muscular legs. His biceps and forearms were well developed, too, as if he lifted weights on a regular basis. He’d also carried a fifty-pound bag across the yard with the easy grace and sure footing of a panther. While he didn’t have the deep tan of someone who spent his days in the sun, he certainly didn’t possess the washed-out, pale color of someone who either was or had been ill.

The only thing she could say about him was that he looked like a man on vacation—a man who hadn’t taken time to shave that morning, a man whose thick hair was longer than she guessed he usually allowed it to be. But underneath the grubby look she saw a tall, suave, sophisticated man in his late thirties, who had an intensely serious expression capable of drawing women to him like metal shavings to a magnet if he’d only smile. Or smile more often.

“I wouldn’t believe you,” she said smartly. “According to Lew at the gas station, you’re retired.”

“He’s wrong.”

“Obviously,” she said dryly. “So you came to Danton for a vacation, but—”

“An extended and well-deserved vacation is what I intend to have. Find someone else if you need an extra pair of hands.”

“There isn’t anyone else,” she insisted. “Look, if you want to spend your days resting and relaxing, great. But can’t you spare a few weeks out of your busy schedule? I’m not asking you to work twenty-hour days, either. Nine to four, Monday through Friday. I’ll take care of the night and weekend call schedule.”

Her offer was quite generous, in her opinion, but if he wanted more—such as working only three days a week—she’d agree to his terms, because any assistance he could give was better than none.

“I sympathize with you, but I’m not interested.”

“I’ll pay you a salary,” she offered impulsively.

He raised one dark eyebrow. “You said this is your first practice?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Then you don’t have two cents to rub together.” His tone was flat. “I know because I’ve been there myself. Unless you’re independently wealthy?”

“I’m not. If you won’t accept a salary, then I’ll split the office profits with you, with none of the expenses.” She didn’t know how she’d manage that and still meet her loan payments, but she’d find a way.

“I don’t take advantage of my colleagues,” he stated. “Save your money.”

Calling her a colleague boosted Ivy’s hopes for the second time since she’d walked into the cabin. “Then it’s a deal? You’ll join me?”

“No.”

Impatiently, she rubbed the back of her neck and struggled to hold her tone even. “What’s the problem?”

“There isn’t a problem. I just want to be left alone,” he ground out. “Is that too difficult a concept for you to grasp, Dr. Harris?”

Although the red highlights in her hair came courtesy of her hairdresser, Ivy’s temper rose to match. “You don’t have a concept. You have an excuse. How can you ignore children who need a doctor?”

“They have you, and you seem capable enough.”

“What about your Hippocratic Oath and the joy of healing those who seek your help?”

“I can’t help you, Dr. Harris,” he said flatly.

“You won’t,” she corrected.

“I have my reasons.”

“Which are?”

“None of your business, Dr. Harris.”

“Perhaps you don’t understand the dynamics of rural communities. Everyone helps each other. Think on that the next time you go to town and expect someone to serve you at the diner, sack and carry your groceries, or change the oil in your car.”

“For the record, I’m immune to threats.”

“A threat would be if I said no one would serve you,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m merely pointing out that the people in this area share their skills and talents. We don’t hoard or use them only when it’s convenient.” Her voice shook with frustration. “You don’t have any children, do you, Dr. Locke?”

His eyes turned dark and his expression cold. “No.”

“I didn’t think so, because if you did, I wonder how you’d feel if you had a sick son or daughter and the doctor who could treat him refused because his vacation was more important.”

He didn’t answer.

Unable to spend another minute in his presence, she headed for the exit. “Enjoy your rest and relaxation, Doctor. I hope you’ll be very happy spending time in your ivory tower.”

She stormed out, carefully and quietly closing the screen door when it was tempting to do the opposite. It was equally tempting to rev her engine and scatter the gravel as she peeled out of the driveway, but she refused to act in such a petty manner. Ethan Locke might think of her as a country hick, but she possessed more class than that. With any luck she wouldn’t run into the man for the rest of his so-called vacation, however long it lasted. Considering how she spent nearly all of her time at the clinic, the ten-bed hospital, or her father’s diner, the odds of never seeing him again lay solidly in her favor.

Twenty minutes later she parked in her spot behind the Danton clinic’s employee entrance and gratefully entered the air-conditioned wing which had been earmarked for pediatrics.

Heather Fox, Ivy’s office nurse and inseparable childhood friend, poked her head out of an exam room as Ivy walked past. “How did it go?”

Ivy detoured into the cubicle and sank into a chair. “Not well. He turned me down. Flatly and unequivocally. I shouldn’t be surprised or disappointed. It was a long shot.”

Long shot or not, she’d carried high hopes… To add insult to injury, it wasn’t fair for a man with his good looks to be such a selfish grump! What an insult to pediatricians everywhere!

“Hmm. I would have thought a retired gent would have been happy to hop back into the saddle and supplement his income for a few weeks.”

“He’s not retired,” Ivy said. “I don’t know how Lew got that impression, but Ethan Locke hasn’t hit forty. To quote him, he’s on ‘an extended and well-deserved vacation’.”

“He’s under forty and can take an extended holiday? Wow! Makes you wonder what his rates as a pediatrician are.”

Remembering how he’d related to Ivy’s lack of finances, she wondered that herself. If he’d earned his millions by charging his patients exorbitant fees, it was a good thing he’d turned her down. Neither she nor the families in the area could afford his services. “No kidding.”

Heather frowned, clearly puzzling out the situation. “So why did he say no? Even if he’s wealthy, I’d think he’d be willing to volunteer.”

“‘Let me count the ways’,” Ivy quoted as she began ticking off his reasons on her fingers. “He’s on vacation. He’s not interested. He wants to be left alone.”

“Did you explain he wouldn’t have any evening or weekend duty?”

“I did, but he still wasn’t interested.” Ivy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Nothing I said made a difference.” She met her friend’s gaze, disappointed by her failure. “I’m sorry, Heather. I know you’d like to leave at a decent time every evening to spend time with your family, and now—”

“Hey, don’t apologize. You did everything you could.” She sighed. “This hasn’t been the best welcome home for you, either, Ivy. Instead of a quiet summer with Dr. Griffith, getting to know the routine, you got tossed in over your head from the very beginning.”

Ivy shrugged, although she smiled. “Don’t worry about me. Murphy’s Law and medicine seem to go hand in hand. We’ll do the best we can and hope it’s enough.”

Like all other doctors, she’d learned how to function without sleep, and how to survive on a few winks grabbed here and there, but as an intern and as a resident at Children’s Mercy, there had always been medical people around to catch any blatant errors she might make. Here, she didn’t have a safety net.

Ethan Locke was the nearest candidate, and he wasn’t interested. Still, no point in crying over circumstances that couldn’t be changed.

“I just hate to ask you to work such long days when you have your own pre-schoolers at home,” Ivy continued.

The nurse shrugged. “This situation won’t last forever. My mother loves babysitting, and I doubt if the kids miss Mom all that much when Grandma caters to their every whim.”

“Believe me, when things get back to normal, I’ll insist on you taking time off.”

“I won’t argue over that,” Heather said with a smile. “But if you ask me, you’re the one I’m worried about. When’s the last time you slept?”

Ivy thought back. “I got a few hours last night.” Those had come between two-year-old Erica Weyland’s asthma attack and five-year-old Tabitha Jones’s sprained wrist after she’d fallen out of her new canopy twin bed.

“And when did you eat last?”

Ivy tried to remember. Breakfast seemed like such a long time ago. “I grabbed a cinnamon roll from the hospital cafeteria this morning.”

“Then it’s a good thing your dad sent over a take-out order of his meatloaf special. It’s in the lounge with your name on it.”

Ivy’s mouth watered, but her wristwatch told her it would have to wait. “I’ll eat later.”

“You’ll eat it now,” Heather ordered. “The kids can wait ten more minutes to see you, especially if it means their doctor won’t collapse from hunger. So go, put up your feet for a few minutes, and don’t come back until you’ve cleaned your plate.”

Ivy didn’t argue. “Yes, Mother,” she said, grateful that her father, once again, had come to her rescue.

At least there were some good men in this world, she thought uncharitably as a mental picture of Ethan Locke appeared. It probably was a good thing he’d turned her down, because he might be handsome and he might be talented, but he clearly didn’t have a heart.

Ethan slumped onto the sofa and stared at the blank television screen, wishing the bottle in his hand held something more bracing than water.

When he’d first laid eyes on his surprise guest, he’d been dazzled. The easy way she moved, the apparent softness of her skin, the shine to her shoulder-length auburn hair, the impish smile on her beautiful face had made him feel as if the sun had reappeared in his life after months of cloudy days.

And for the first time in a long time he’d also been curious. During the few weeks he’d been living here no one, not even the mail carrier, had wandered down his lane. For a man who’d been content to mark the days by the number of soda pop bottles he emptied, curiosity was a novel experience.

Then she’d started asking questions, discussing things he didn’t want to discuss. One visit that could have held some promise and make him feel “normal” had suddenly ruined his day. Hell, she’d ruined his entire week!

Almost six months ago he’d left his life behind in St. Louis. After severing the few ties he had in the Gateway City, he’d packed the belongings he couldn’t live without in his car and stored the rest. He’d headed west on I-70 without any clear-cut destination in mind other than a desire to find a quiet location to settle until he refocused his life.

His criteria had been simple. He’d wanted a place where he would be as average as the next guy, a place where no one would expect more from him than he was willing to give, a place where he could sort out his life and find peace. A place where he could forget….

Surprisingly enough, a place meeting his specifications had been more difficult to find than he’d expected, but after detouring off one interstate onto another that headed south, he’d stumbled across Danton, a southern Kansas town of about five thousand, which provided enough retail businesses and services to satisfy its residents. Healthcare was limited to a doctor and a ten-bed hospital that was equipped to deal with emergencies and provide nursing care for anyone needing round-the-clock attention they couldn’t receive at home. Thanks to a conversation with the loose-lipped Lew, who’d obviously found the doctor’s parking permit Ethan had yanked off the rearview mirror and shoved under the driver’s seat, he’d hunted down the owner of this cabin, signed a lease and moved in for the summer.

He’d taken to his new surroundings without any problem, and knew he’d made the right choice to leave his old life. After nearly six months of drifting, he didn’t miss the phones ringing, his pager buzzing, the monitors beeping, the gentle whoosh of respirators, or babies that fit in the palm of his hand. More importantly, he didn’t miss the worry, the tears, or the sense of failure.

Allowing each minute, each hour, to pass by quietly and without plan or purpose seemed therapeutic, although he didn’t expect to be healed of what ailed him.

How did one recover from disillusionment, especially when you were disillusioned with yourself?

I need your help.

She might need help, but she didn’t need his, he thought sourly. He was the last doctor she’d want treating her precious patients, although she didn’t know that. Better for her to think he was a selfish bastard, that he had no heart, than for her to know the truth.

Actually, knowing she hung at the end of her emotional rope bothered him more than he cared to admit—mainly because he’d been there, done that. If only she’d stayed away; if only Lew hadn’t discovered Ethan was a doctor; if only he had chosen today to pack a lunch and explore the acres and acres surrounding the cabin. Then he could have remained in ignorant isolation.

But she hadn’t left him in peace. In a few short minutes she’d done what his colleagues in St. Louis hadn’t been able to accomplish in months.

She’d made him feel guilty.

Feeling guilty was a step up from feeling like a failure, which was how he’d felt in the weeks before he left St. Louis. Like Dr. Harris, his colleagues had tried to convince him to reconsider, but he’d been adamant about pulling up stakes and they’d finally accepted his decision. A week later they’d found a replacement, who’d stepped into his shoes without the smallest hiccup, and life went on.

It would for Ivy Harris, too. Besides, she’d seemed resourceful enough to locate someone to do what he could not.

But what if she didn’t?

She’d manage. Managing was what doctors did best, especially under the most difficult of circumstances.

You don’t have any children, do you, Dr. Locke?

Ivy’s voice echoed in his head and he steeled himself against the pain. She’d definitely played hardball with her remark, but he hadn’t been inclined to explain how every one of his tiny, tiny patients had been “his” kid. And he certainly hadn’t been about to admit that he’d fathered one of his own, because it would have prompted an entirely new set of questions; questions that would only lead to him reliving what still lay so heavily on his heart.

In spite of his expertise, in spite of the advances in modern medicine, he hadn’t been able to save his own son.

“How long has Robbie had this patch on his arm?” she asked Molly Owens.

Molly shrugged. “Several weeks. At first I thought it was just part of his allergies, so I used an over-the-counter cortisone cream. But the area is getting larger, so I thought it was time to try something else.” The thirty-year-old grinned. “Unless you’re going to tell me I haven’t given the cream enough time to work?”

The lesion was about the size of a silver dollar, red and flat, and the center was scaly looking. A textbook picture if she ever saw one.

“Not a chance,” Ivy said with a smile. “Your cream won’t help. Robbie has ringworm. It’s a fungus infection and requires special medication.”

“Ringworm?” Molly was aghast. “Are you sure?”

“I could do a skin scraping for fungus and send it to the lab, if you’d like, but I’m certain about my diagnosis.”

“Oh, I’m not questioning you,” Molly was quick to reply. “It’s just that I thought it was transmitted from animals, and we don’t have a dog or a cat.”

“That’s often the case,” Ivy agreed, “but sometimes a child will pick up the fungus from the soil.”

Molly exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “He does love to play in the dirt with his trucks,” she said as she fingercombed the little boy’s sandy-colored hair.

“See my truck?” Robbie held the metal vehicle under Ivy’s nose. “It goes fast. Vroooom, vroooom.”

“I see,” Ivy told him. “I’ll bet you’re an excellent driver.”

Focused on his toy, and making the appropriate engine noises, Robbie jumped off his mom’s lap and began pushing it along the linoleum.

“So what do I do?” Molly asked. “Keep him out of the dirt?”

“You can try, but I suspect you’ll fight a losing battle.”

“To put it mildly.”

Ivy wrote on her prescription pad. “Here’s a script for an anti-fungal cream. Apply it to his arm twice daily.”

“For how long?”

“Until the patch disappears, which will take a few weeks.”

“That’s it?”

“You should also sterilize his towels, his bedding, and any clothes that come in contact with the area. You don’t want this to spread to anyone else in your family.”

“OK. Not a problem.”

“If you notice the lesion becomes redder, or oozes pus, come back. Same for if it hasn’t disappeared in three or four weeks. And if by some chance you notice another area developing, start treating it immediately with the cream.”

“Will do. Thanks so much, Doctor.”

Ivy smiled as she escorted Molly to the door of the exam room. “You’re welcome.”

Heather waited outside the cubicle. “You aren’t going to believe this—”

“After today, I can believe anything,” Ivy said dryly. “How many more patients are waiting?”

“None.” The woman grinned. “Robbie was the last one.”

Ivy glanced at the clock. 6:15 p.m. “You’re right. I don’t believe it. I thought we’d be here until seven at least.”

“Same here. I guess we were lucky. And, speaking of lucky, you have a visitor.”

It was too late in the evening for a drug rep to drop in and peddle his wares. “Who is it?”

“I have no idea. He wouldn’t leave his name, but he’s quite a hunk if you ask me.”

“Then it’s no one you know?”

“Nope, which is a shame. He’s the sort who would have women flocking around him if he’d bother to smile. He’s the dark, brooding Heathcliffe type.”

Instantly a picture of Ethan Locke flashed into Ivy’s head, but she dismissed the idea. He wouldn’t have any reason to stop by her office. No doubt he’d rather walk barefoot through a Texas sandburr patch than run into her again.

“OK, I’ll find out who he is and what he wants. Meanwhile, enjoy your evening at home.”

“I will.”

Ivy told her receptionist goodnight, then beelined to the waiting room. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she told the tall fellow who was studying one of her favorite Anne Geddes prints, depicting three babies decked out in yellow bunny costumes, spooning each other as they lay fast asleep.

He turned to face her and she caught her breath.

Ethan Locke.

He didn’t look much different than he had earlier, although he’d shaved, revealing an endearing dimple in his chin.

“Well, well, this is a surprise,” she said evenly, both suspicious and curious as to why he’d tracked her down. But she didn’t intend to make it easy for him. “If you want a refill on your antisocial pills you’ll have to see Jed, because I don’t treat adults. His office is next door.”

His face turned ruddy. “I deserve that, I suppose, but I came to apologize.”

He’d surprised her, because on the basis of their first meeting she hadn’t thought he was the sort to worry over what she or anyone else might think of him, much less apologize for his actions. If she weren’t so tired, and if she didn’t have hospital rounds to make yet, she might have been willing to spar with him for a while longer. But she was, and she did, and she wanted to fall into bed as soon as possible.

“Accepted. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Wait.”

The one word stopped her in her tracks. She studied him carefully, noticing how he seemed to hesitate, as if he needed to bolster his courage. Instinctively, she knew his apology was only an excuse. Perhaps even a test of some sort….

“Look,” she said slowly, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a hundred and one things to do before this day officially ends. If you’re here for a reason, just spit it out and save me the suspense. I don’t have the energy to play twenty questions.”

“Have you found someone to help you?”

“I haven’t had time,” she admitted. “But, as you said, I’m sure I’ll find someone. Eventually. Why do you ask?”

She’d wanted to say Why do you care?, but she’d eaten lunch, and they’d finished earlier than she’d expected, so she could afford to be nice. For the moment.

He paused, his gaze steady. “Because I’m offering my services.”

CHAPTER TWO

FROM the expression on Ivy’s face, Ethan had obviously startled her speechless. He wouldn’t blame her if she told him to buzz off, after they’d parted on less than friendly terms. Part of him hoped she wouldn’t, but if she did he would go back to his rented cabin with his conscience appeased.

Her surprise disappeared and her face settled into more impassive lines, as if she wanted to believe but wouldn’t allow herself to do so. “You’re offering to help?”

“Yes.”

“If this is some twisted idea of a joke…”

“It isn’t. It’s a sincere offer.”

“Forgive me, but I’d never dreamed… You’re actually willing to help me.” She narrowed her coffee-colored eyes in obvious suspicion as she dug her hands into her white lab coat.

“For a few weeks.” He’d thought about extending on open-ended offer without a set final date as he planned to live in the area until the end of the summer, but he wanted—no, needed an escape clause. Helping a colleague in dire straits for a few weeks should be enough to appease his conscience.

“Several hours ago you said you weren’t interested. What prompted you to change your mind?”

“Does it matter?” he countered, unwilling to explain how, after her you-don’t-have-children comment, his former colleague and old friend’s phone call had tipped the scales in her favor.

“Try something different,” Stewart Trimble had urged. “I understand your reasons for steering clear of medicine, but you still have a lot to give.”

“I don’t,” Ethan had replied flatly. “The proverbial well is dry.”

“Temporarily, perhaps, but you aren’t a quitter, Ethan,” Stewart had said. “Pediatricians aren’t limited to treating infants, you know. After bumming around the country for the last six months, don’t you owe yourself the old college try? What would it hurt to agree to a locum job in a practice where the worst thing you’ll treat is a sore throat and an occasional cough? Maybe your well isn’t as dry as you think.”

Plenty, he’d wanted to say, but in the end the combination of seeing Ivy’s exhaustion, the new load of guilt she’d leveled on him, and Stewart’s thought-provoking encouragement had prompted him to drive into town and offer his services on a limited scale for an equally limited amount of time. It would be a trial period, he’d consoled himself as the distance to Ivy’s clinic had shortened. That was all. At the end of the three weeks she’d asked for he’d have a better idea of what he’d do with the rest of his life.

As an added bonus, perhaps he could get the attractive Ivy Harris out of his head. His fiancée had been every bit as beautiful, but he’d soon learned that beauty usually only went skin deep.

She cleared her throat, bringing him back to the present. “No,” she admitted. “Although I want to be sure you won’t fill in for a day and quit the next because you changed your mind.”

“I finish what I start. If I agree to help you for three weeks, then I won’t leave you high and dry.” His former colleagues at the children’s hospital could attest to that. Once he’d tendered his resignation in St. Louis, he could have walked away, but through sheer force of will he’d struggled through another month until a replacement could be found.

She fell silent, apparently digesting his information. “OK. When can you start?”

“Whenever you like.”

She laughed, the lighthearted sound easing the residual tightness in his chest that hadn’t left him since the day his son had died. “I’d say immediately, but tomorrow is soon enough.”

“Tomorrow it is,” he said. “But I have a few conditions.”

A long-suffering expression flitted across her face, as if she half expected him to list requirements she couldn’t possibly meet. “Something tells me I need to sit down to hear this,” she said wryly as she did exactly that. “OK. Give me your terms.”

“First of all, I’ll earn the same salary you do and pay the same expenses.”

She blinked twice owlishly, as if he’d surprised her—which he probably had. “That isn’t what I initially offered you.”

“As I said earlier, I don’t take advantage of a colleague. Especially one who’s starting out.”

“Thanks.” She sounded dubious, as if she were afraid he’d spring something worse on her.

He did. “Second, I won’t treat babies.”

“None at all?”

“Infants aren’t my forte,” he said flatly. “I’ll take on all the school-age kids and adolescents who walk through the door, but anyone under the age of three is yours to deal with.”

She opened her mouth as if to argue, then simply nodded, as if she’d decided she could live with that particular stipulation. In a town without obstetrical services there couldn’t be more babies, especially newborns, than she could handle on her own.

“OK,” she said calmly. “Anything else?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

Her face warmed. “I’d say so. But at this point I can’t afford to be choosy. I appreciate anything and everything you’re willing to do.” She rose. “I’m usually here by seven-thirty most mornings, and our first patients are scheduled for nine.”

“What about referrals?”

“I send any child who needs a specialist north to Wichita or south to Oklahoma City,” she continued, “depending on the parents’ preference and insurance requirements. My goal is to bring in a pediatric endocrinologist and allergist once a month for scheduled appointments, but with everything that’s happened I haven’t had a chance to organize the clinics. Walt and I have other plans we hope to implement, but, as they say, Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Her smile was rueful.

Ethan saw the enthusiasm, the confidence, the full-steam-ahead attitude he’d seen in every new board-certified physician. Faith in one’s skills and the miracles of modern medicine made a man, or a woman, feel invincible and ready to conquer the world. For an instant he wanted to advise her to enjoy that feeling, because she’d lose it soon enough.

Idly, he wondered if he’d made a huge mistake by coming here. Seeing Ivy Harris every day would be like looking in a mirror, reminding him of what he’d once been like and showing him what he was now. A jaded physician didn’t pair well with an eager, idealistic one, but he’d already committed himself and he couldn’t back out now. Not because he cared about Ivy’s opinion, but because keeping his word was a matter of family honor. He might be the only Locke left, but his personal integrity was something he intended to hold on to with both hands.

“In the meantime,” Ivy continued, “if you have a patient who needs a referral, check with Heather, my nurse, or Billie, our receptionist.”

“You only have one nurse?”

“At the moment. But don’t worry. I’ll find another RN. They aren’t as difficult to come by as doctors,” she tacked on wryly. “If you’d like, I can show you around now, or we can wait until morning.”

“Don’t you have a hundred and one things to do before you can call it a day?” He turned her own words against her, although he found himself unwilling to leave for reasons he didn’t quite understand.

She smiled tiredly. “Yeah, but it won’t take long to give the nickel tour. We can start—” Her cellphone rang and she glanced at the caller ID display. “This might take a few minutes. Feel free to wander around on your own.”

Ethan sauntered past the receptionist’s desk as he ignored Ivy’s one-sided conversation. He stepped into the first patient room and saw the required glass canisters of cotton balls, cotton-tipped applicator sticks and tongue depressors standing on the counter, next to an otoscope to look into the ear canal. A biohazard container for needles and syringes hung on the wall.

Inside the cabinets and drawers he found the odd assortment of other necessities, including facial tissues, blood pressure cuffs in different sizes for little arms, as well as various kits and irrigation solutions. As far as he could tell Ivy had stocked her office with everything a general pediatrician might need, probably to avoid sending her patients on a lengthy drive elsewhere.

He sensed Ivy’s presence at the door before she uttered a word. Turning, he saw the slight frown on her face.

“Problems?” he asked.

She nodded. “I have to go. There’s been an accident. A truck collided with a van carrying six children, ages nine months to eight years old.”

It would be daunting to treat that many cases at once, especially if those six were critical. Clearly Jed wouldn’t be much help, because he’d have his hands full with the adults involved.

All afternoon he’d convinced himself he’d do nothing more than swab sore throats, peer into achy ears and listen to a few asthmatic lungs. Unfortunately fate had thrown another curve ball at him. No doubt Stewart would laugh his fool head off if he knew the situation Ethan had landed in without warning.

She waited silently, but he saw the unspoken plea in her eyes. The way he saw it, he had three options. He could ignore her silent request and simply say goodbye—an option which appealed mightily because he technically wasn’t on duty until tomorrow; he could do nothing—in which case she’d probably beg; or he could put his plans for dinner and a quiet evening at home aside and volunteer.

Some choices. Two would make him a heartless jerk and one would ruin the rest of his already ruined day. Having decided to fill in out of guilt, he might as well get started, he decided reluctantly, although it had been a while since he’d used his general pediatric skills. Still, he had an advantage: unlike the pre-term neonates he’d treated, the children he’d work with now could point him in the right direction.

“Would you like me to assist?” he asked, hoping she’d refuse.

She positively beamed, and took a step forward. For a moment she wore such a supreme look of relief that he thought she might kiss him.

He wouldn’t have minded. In fact, just the possibility of feeling her lips against his sent blood rushing through his body. Geesh, having such a strong physical reaction on the basis of merely thinking about a kiss plainly indicated he’d been alone for too long.

Yet, physical attraction or not, he didn’t have any business letting his imagination run away from him. He carried too much emotional baggage right now to consider any sort of relationship, even a platonic one.

Instead of kissing him, as he’d both feared and anticipated, she grabbed his hand and squeezed gently. “Oh, thank you. I’d love it if you would. Mind you, if it’s all minor stuff you can leave, but it would be great to have you nearby. Just in case things get complicated.”

It already was, he thought wryly, deciding her touch could easily become addictive. She was warm and vibrant, in a world which had been cold and colorless, but rather than allow himself the luxury of enjoying it to the fullest he mentally distanced himself at the same time as he abruptly extricated his hand from hers. Emotionally entangling himself with a pretty woman who’d want more from him than he could possibly give was a prescription for more heartache. He’d seen the light in one woman’s eyes fade into accusation and disgust. He wasn’t about to experience that again.

“Then shall we go?” he asked, his voice impersonal.

Her face turned a rosy hue, as if she recognized his brushoff. “Yes,” she said, her tone several degrees chillier than it had been before. “We should.”

As he followed her down the hallway that connected their clinic to the hospital, he noticed her demeanor toward him had turned from warm-hearted to strictly professional. Yet when she called a fellow named Ted she went back to being congenial and bubbly again. Clearly she’d chosen to save her friendly overtures for someone who wanted them, which was perfectly fine with him.

Yes, it was best for everyone concerned if they kept their relationship on a businesslike footing during the few weeks they were together. But, while it was the logical thing to do, he couldn’t deny the sense of loss that swept through him.

With one phone call to Ted Burns, the hospital’s CEO, Ivy had gotten Ethan consultant status so he could begin treating patients.

“It’s all set,” she said, as soon as she’d slipped her cellphone into her pocket. “You have temporary privileges with final approval contingent on you coming in tomorrow to show your credentials and sign the necessary paperwork.”

“So soon? I’m impressed.”

His surprise grated on her nerves. It was as if he hadn’t expected anyone in town to be efficient. “We don’t all work at Lew’s speeds of slow and slower yet,” she said smartly.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m glad to hear it.”

No, she decided with some disappointment, Ethan Locke wouldn’t win the Friendliest Doctor of the Year award. Wariest, perhaps, or Gruffest, or Most Reluctant, or even Most Mysterious—but Friendliest? Not a chance.

But what did it matter if he frowned all day long, never spoke more than a few words and kept to himself? As long as he was kind to the patients and proved himself competent she would be one happy doctor.

Yet, regardless of how she’d characterized him, she also knew that people were a product of their experiences. What had made Ethan Locke so determined to isolate himself?

Whatever his reasons, she could either respond in kind or treat him as she did everyone else. The choice was easy to the point that it wasn’t a choice at all.

She bestowed one of her usual smiles on him as she led the way toward a cart near the ambulance bay that held protective gear. “We’re not as hung up on bureaucracy as other places, and we’re more flexible, but don’t forget to see Ted first thing in the morning. He’ll bend what can be bent, but only so far.”

“See Ted first. Got it.”

As Ivy shrugged on the familiar yellow gown, vinyl gloves and face shield, she noticed Ethan doing the same. “We’ll wait out—”

Nancy Martinez, the middle-aged nurse who was in charge of the department, approached at a near-run. “I just heard. ETA of the ambulance is three minutes. We’re getting the Ellerbe twins.”

Ivy’s heart sank. The twins were nine months old and their parents’ pride and joy. “Marybeth?”

“She was driving,” Nancy said, her forehead furrowed with concern. “Apparently she’d taken the kids in her daycare to Wichita Zoo today, and was coming home when a truck ran a stop sign and plowed into her. Luckily she’d already delivered several of the kids at their homes before it happened, otherwise we’d have three more patients.”

“I assume you know the family?” Ethan asked.

“I grew up with Marybeth’s husband and I know his mother quite well. By the way, Ethan, this is Nancy, our E.R. charge nurse. She’s worked here for years, and knows everything there is to know about the hospital. So if there’s anything you need, she’s your go-to person.” She turned to Nancy. “This is Dr. Ethan Locke. He’s helping us out temporarily.”

An ambulance siren wailed in the distance. “Come on,” she said. “We’re being paged.”

The heat, coupled with her protective gear, blasted her after being in the air-conditioned facility. Almost immediately a host of other staff members materialized to surround them.

“Everybody!” Ivy called out to the assembled group as the ambulance approached the loading dock. “This is Dr. Ethan Locke, and he will be helping us for the next few weeks. He’s a pediatrician and he comes highly recommended.”

Actually, she didn’t have any recommendations about him at all, other than Lew’s observation that he’d been a physician at the prestigious children’s hospital in St. Louis. He could be a doctor who couldn’t hack the job, but her instincts said that wasn’t the case. He had too much intelligence shining out of his eyes that no amount of cynicism and rudeness could disguise. Her biggest consolation lay in Nancy, who knew her stuff and would alert Ivy if his decisions were questionable.

Having done all she could to stack the odds in the victims’ favor, she riveted her attention on the emergency vehicle. Even with the back doors closed she heard the babies’ cries.

She glanced at Ethan, and was surprised by his stone-faced demeanor and grim expression, but she couldn’t ponder the reasons for it now.

Before the vehicle edged to a complete stop, she drew a bracing breath and yanked open the doors. Inside were two babies strapped into their infant seats, kicking and screaming in stereo, two older children—girls about five and six—who were doing their best to console the inconsolable babies, and a sandy-haired boy about seven years old, strapped to a backboard and sporting a c-spine collar, an IV line, a mask and a tank of oxygen between his legs.

“Packed house,” Ivy commented to the paramedic over the frightened wail of the babies. “What do you have?”

“One with abdominal injuries and four ambulatory—if you consider a car seat being ambulatory,” Ben Kovacs, the paramedic, reported. “I gave those two a preliminary once-over.” He motioned to the little noise-makers. “From their volume, I think they’re more scared than hurt, so I left them in their car seats for easy transport.”

“Crying is good. I’d be more worried if they weren’t making a sound.” Ethan had stationed himself near the boy’s gurney, but Ivy knew they couldn’t move the stretcher until the littlest ones were out of the way. Ben had truly packed the victims inside.

“They’ve only stopped long enough to take a breath and catch their second wind,” Ben said wryly. “I figured you could check them out more thoroughly to make sure they were OK.”

Ivy handed one carrier to Ethan before she reached for the other, noticing the huge tears clinging to soggy eyelashes, the red screwed-up faces and runny noses. By the time she’d handed the other infant to waiting nurses Ethan had already passed his bundle to someone else. He’d obviously hadn’t taken time to give the baby more than a passing glance, if that.

“Put them in Room One and I’ll be there in a minute,” Ivy directed, and she waved the older girls forward out of the corner where Ben had squeezed them.

“Suzy and Emma only have bumps and bruises,” Ben reported, his attention focused on the boy in front of him. “They could have waited, but I thought they should get away from the scene as soon as possible. Some things a kid shouldn’t see,” he finished in a low voice.

Ivy’s imagination filled in the blanks. “Come on, girls. Let’s go where I can make sure you’re okay, too.” Grabbing their hands, she helped them hop off the back bumper into the care of a young certified nurses’ aide, Robyn.

With the extraneous people out of the way, Ben released the latch holding the gurney in place. Between the three of them they pulled the stretcher out of the emergency vehicle and snapped the wheels in place before rolling their patient inside. Through it all, Ben gave his report.

“Tommy, here, is the worst. He was sitting behind the driver on the same side of the van where the truck plowed into them. BP is low, pulse is rapid.” Ben rattled off the numbers.

“I’ll look after him,” Ethan told Ivy as he helped guide the gurney into the trauma room. “You take care of the rest.”

Ivy hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“You’re the one in charge of babies,” he reminded her.

“OK.” Yet she found herself unable to leave. Not because she didn’t trust him—OK, maybe she had a few doubts—but mainly because she felt as if she were throwing him to the wolves by asking him to handle a trauma in a place where he’d never stepped foot until now.

For the first time since she’d accepted his offer she wondered if she’d made the right decision to bring in a relative unknown.

“Do you know how old he is?” she heard Ethan ask Ben.

“He’s seven.”

One advantage to a small community was that everyone knew everyone, which worked out nicely during times like these. Someday she’d know everyone in town by sight, too, but she’d been gone for years and hadn’t been back nearly long enough to have that ability today.

Ethan leaned over the moving gurney as he lightly gripped the boy’s hand. “Hi, Tommy. I’m Ethan, and we’re going to make you feel better soon.”

He sniffled. “I want…my mommy,” he sobbed.

“I know,” Ethan soothed. “We’re going to get your parents here as soon as we can. Can you tell me where you hurt?”

One hand fluttered to his abdomen. “Stomach. My chest.”

They rolled the gurney into the trauma room, and an instant later they’d moved Tommy, still strapped to the backboard with his head immobilized, to a hospital bed.

“Just hang on a little bit longer while we run some tests and take a few pictures,” Ethan told the youngster kindly. “Can you do that for me, sport?”

Tommy’s lower lip trembled. “I’ll…I’ll try.”

Ethan stroked a wayward lock of hair out of Tommy’s eyes. “Fair enough.”

Ivy had been afraid Ethan didn’t have a compassionate cell in his body, but his simple, kindly actions blasted away her lingering doubts. He might be gruff, but he cared about his patients.

What in the world was he doing in Danton? Even if he wanted an extended vacation, she would have guessed a more exotic, touristy place would have been his choice.

“If you don’t need me anymore, Doc,” Ben said to Ethan, “I gotta go back. They were using the Jaws of Life to extricate the driver of the van when we left, and because they aren’t back yet…”

“Marybeth?”

Ben looked surprised. “Do you know her?”

“Only what Nancy told us before you arrived. And if Nancy says we can manage on our own, then we’ll see you later.”

The nurse looked surprised, but pleased he’d consulted her. “We’ll be OK. See you later, Ben.”

“Thanks for your help,” Ethan seconded, before he addressed Nancy. “Start another IV, large bore needle with lactated Ringer’s.”

An instant later he patted the boy’s hand and began examining his abdomen and chest. Suddenly he cocked his head and frowned, as if he’d heard something he didn’t like.

Ivy listened, too, and recognized the distinctive wail of babies—the same noise she’d blocked out earlier.

“Still here, Dr. Harris?” Ethan mentioned idly.

Caught in the act! But it had been worth it, because she’d seen enough to rest easier in the abilities of her temporary partner. “I’m leaving now,” she promised, doing just that.

Yet as she examined the twins, ordered a few precautionary X-rays and lab tests, as well as a bottle of formula for each, she found herself impatient to return.

Funny thing how Ethan’s training and previous experience as a general pediatrician seemed to surface from out of nowhere as he examined his young patient. Apparently it was true that some things, like riding a bike, just weren’t forgotten, because from the moment Ethan saw the bruises on Tommy’s torso, the abdominal rigidity, cool clammy skin and shocky vital signs, he knew what to do. Grateful that he wasn’t in over his head as much as he’d feared, he relaxed a bit and mentally ran through the diagnostic protocol.

“I want cervical and lumbar spine X-rays, as well as chest and abdominal films,” he told Nancy, guessing that the two people lingering in the background were the lab and X-ray techs. “A CBC, basic chemistries, liver enzymes, renal function, amylase, type and cross-match for two units, coag studies, and a urinalysis. Stat. Any chance we can get a CT scan?”

Nancy shook her head. “Sorry. We’ve been trying to raise money for a scanner, but haven’t yet.”

The scan would have ruled out intra-abdominal or peritoneal bleeding, but if one wasn’t available then he’d have to depend on other tests to make his diagnosis. For the first time since he’d left St. Louis he realized how fortunate he’d been to have every resource available.

He stepped aside to allow the techs to work, remaining nearby to watch Tommy’s monitors, guess at his weight and double-check his mental calculations for the amount of fluid replacement.

By the time Ivy rematerialized he’d run a nasogastric tube and ruled out a stomach injury, gotten a baseline hemoglobin level from the lab, studied the films and decided the spine immobilization could be discontinued—although he’d feel better if a radiologist had given his seal of approval.

“Reinforcements have arrived,” she said cheerfully. “What can I do?”

“Find a surgeon in the next thirty minutes.”

“I wish. What’s the problem? Internal bleeding?”

Ethan pulled her aside. “I think his spleen’s ruptured. I don’t have a second hemoglobin level yet, but he has all the signs, especially abdominal pain and tenderness, pain in his left shoulder, and being shocky. The question is, do you want to observe him here and then Medevac him out when we know for certain, or move him close to an O.R. now, before he needs one?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Her tone was wry.

“I’d vote to move him out now, but this is my first day on the job,” he reminded her. “I’m still learning your protocol.”

“The only protocol I have is that I make a point never to gamble with my patients’ lives. I’d rather give them an unnecessary helicopter ride than hold them here until it’s too late.” She met his gaze. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” he admitted. “I’d hoped you’d agree with me.”

“Then I’ll make the arrangements.”

“As an FYI,” Ethan mentioned before Ivy got too far, “Ben said they were using the Jaws of Life to free this Marybeth person, so she might need to catch a chopper ride, too.”

“I’ll notify the air dispatch.”

After making the flight arrangements, Ivy ran into Jed outside the trauma room. The same age as Walt, Jed was looking as haggard as Ivy felt.

“Busy day for you, too?” she commiserated.

He smiled. “I haven’t worked this hard in years. How Walt did it all by himself is a mystery. Not to mention downright miraculous.”

Ivy chuckled. “I have to agree.”

The ambulance bay doors whooshed open and the E.M.T. crew wheeled in another victim. At the same time the main doors at the other end of the department flew open, and a crowd of frantic adults rushed through.

“Have fun with that group,” Jed murmured, before he sprinted toward the incoming gurney and disappeared inside the trauma room where Ethan and Tommy already were.

Immediately Ivy was surrounded by parents asking after their children. After trying unsuccessfully to get a word in edgewise, she gave an unladylike whistle.

Complete and utter silence followed.

“Who belongs with Suzy and/or Emma?”

A young couple and a single woman raised their hands.

“Tommy?”

“He’s our son,” another couple said.

Ivy smiled. “Dr. Ethan is with him right now, but I’ll let him know you’re here. The rest of you—” she glanced at the other parents “—come with me.”

She led her group to a nearby treatment room, where she paused in the hall. “Both Suzy and Emma are fine,” she told them. “They have some bruises and bumps, and will be sore for a couple of days, but nothing that a few hot baths and plenty of rest won’t cure.”

“Are you sure?” The woman who’d identified herself as Emma’s mother asked.

“Absolutely. But if they complain about anything new in the next couple of days, be sure you bring them in. In the meantime they can have acetaminophen to ease their aches and pains.”

“Thanks, Dr. Ivy.” Suzy’s father pumped her hand. “We appreciate this.”

“Can we take our girls home now?” Emma’s mother asked.

“Absolutely.” Ivy opened the door and the two girls inside jumped up and ran to their parents. Amid hugs and tears and sniffles, the two chattered like a pair of blue jays as they described the accident.

Happy to send those two on their way, Ivy peeked into the room where the twins slept in the baby beds that someone had robbed from the medical ward, clearly worn out from their experience.

Determined to let Ethan handle the other set of waiting parents, she found him next to Tommy’s bed. “How’s he doing?” she asked, ignoring Jed and the nurses surrounding his patient for the moment.

“Stable, for the moment. His second hemoglobin level has dropped, though.”

“ETA for the helicopter, twenty minutes. Which was at least…” she checked her watch “…seven minutes ago.”

“Good.”

“His parents are waiting outside. I thought you should talk to them as you know his condition better than I do.”

He hesitated, as if hating to leave Tommy’s side.

“I’ll stay,” Nancy offered. “His vital signs haven’t changed in the last fifteen minutes. I’ll let you know if they do.”

Ivy accompanied Ethan to the nurses’ station, where the Weathers were still waiting. From the worry on their faces, they obviously expected to hear the worst.

“How is Tommy?” his father asked. “Can we see him?”

“In just a minute,” Ethan said, before he introduced himself. “Tommy’s suffered abdominal trauma and I believe he has a ruptured spleen.”

At Mrs. Weathers’s gasp, he continued, “He’s stable for the moment, but he’s going to need surgery and soon.”

“How soon?”

“Within hours, I’d say,” Ethan admitted. “Dr. Harris has called for an air ambulance. It should be here any minute now to fly him to Wichita, where a surgeon is already waiting for him.”

“Is that the only thing wrong?” Mrs. Weathers’s voice and mouth trembled. “His spleen?”

“As far as I can tell. His X-rays didn’t show any problems with his spine, although we’ll have a radiologist read them to be absolutely certain. He can also wiggle his fingers and toes, so I think it’s safe to say he’ll be running around before long. As for other conditions—his liver and kidney function tests all look good, but the surgeon will know more after he takes a look inside. Afterward they’ll continue to monitor him closely. Sometimes problems crop up a day or two after the accident. For now, the immediate problem is to stop the internal bleeding.”

“Won’t it stop on its own?” Mr. Weathers asked.

“The spleen is a highly vascular organ, which means it’s full of blood vessels. Its function is to filter all the blood as it enters the circulation. The only way to stop Tommy’s bleeding is to remove the organ.”

His parents’ faces blanched. “If his spleen is a filter, won’t he need it?”

“As important as it is,” Ethan explained, “one can live without it.”

“Can we see him, Doctor?”

“For a few minutes—until the air crew gets here. Don’t worry, they’ll send a nurse and an E.M.T., so Tommy will have excellent care while he’s flying. Mind you, though, when you see him he’ll be groggy, and may not make much sense,” he warned. “And don’t be alarmed by the tubes and monitors.” He smiled. “Your son has been a real trooper. He’s a tough little character.”

Throughout Ethan’s conversation Ivy had hung in the background. She gave him high marks for his bedside manner. Once again she wondered why a physician of his apparent caliber had been so reluctant to answer her first call for help. She was equally curious as to why he’d changed his mind. But, whatever his reasons, she was glad that he had. Considering how Tommy was the only one who’d been critically injured, she probably could have managed on her own while Walt’s nurse practitioner dealt with the twins and the two older girls. However, it was nice having another physician available. As Jed had said, it was nothing short of miraculous how Walt had managed singlehandedly.

Idly, she wondered if she could talk Ethan into sticking around to help them as long as he remained in the area. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to ask, or at least to plant that seed of an idea and see what germinated. After all, what did she have to lose?

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.