“Where’s the doctor?”
Brett nodded behind Craig. “That’s him.”
Craig did an about face. “Excuse me.”
The doctor raised his head, his look moving from Craig to Brett and back. “Yes?”
“You’re treating Sarah Slocum?”
An eyebrow rose. “Yes.”
“I understand you have questions about tests. Procedure.”
The doctor looped his stethoscope around his neck and nodded. “She hasn’t come to. Early tests show some internal blood loss. Ideally, we need permission to scope her. Do an exploratory.”
“Ideally?”
The doctor’s brow rose higher. “If medically necessary we’ll go ahead and perform the procedure. It’s just better to have our I’s dotted and T’s crossed.”
“But you won’t hesitate to do what’s necessary, right?” Craig drove the point home. “Sarah would want you to do whatever should be done.”
The doctor’s look changed to one of understanding. “It’s hard before you’re married, isn’t it?” he mused, moving down the hall.
Craig darted a glance toward Brett as they kept pace, the boy’s face half frown, half curious. “No, I—”
“I understand completely.” The middle-aged doctor waved a sympathetic hand. “It’s medical no-man’s land. Legally, you’ve got no rights. Morally, you have every right to permit treatment of the woman you love.”
Brett’s attention shifted back to Craig. The doctor swung open the door to Sarah’s room. “Now, if Sleeping Beauty wakes up, we can end the suspense. Have her sign her own papers. Give it a try, Prince Charming. Maybe your voice will bring her around.”
Rita stood in front of the bed. She looked startled to see him. Liv and Skeeter sat in tandem on a chair at the end. Reading their faces, Craig knew this wasn’t the time to correct the M.D. He moved forward. Rita stepped aside.
His heart jerked at the sight of Sarah. The monitors and IV tubing didn’t jolt him. The sights and sounds of technical intervention were commonplace at the clinic, although his patients were generally hairier. And four-footed.
Her face had taken the brunt of the trauma. Swelling obscured her warm, round eyes. Cuts and lacerations vied with angry bruising for surface area. If he hadn’t been told this was Sarah, he wouldn’t have known. Easing onto the bed, he called her name. No response.
Gentle, he lifted her hand, his thumb caressing the palm, trying to stimulate her with the basest sense, touch. Again he called her name. Nothing.
The doctor shrugged. “Concussion. We’ll do what we have to without consent if it comes down to it. She’s got no parents? No brothers or sisters?”
Craig looked at Rita. She stared back at him, then lowered her eyes. They both understood that Sarah’s father and brother would be in no hurry to stop by. “Her father’s local. And her brother, Ed.”
The doctor’s brows drew together. “The car dealer on Cable 8?”
You mean the moron on Cable 8. “Yeah.”
“They know about this?” The doctor turned Rita’s way.
Shame and worry vied for top billing. “They know. They won’t come.”
Craig muttered something not pretty. The doctor’s face said he understood their anger. “Someone will stay with her?”
“Yes,” promised Craig.
“Yes,” offered Rita. Their simultaneous response inspired a shared look of concern. Craig met the doctor’s eye. “One of us will be with her. Rest assured.”
“Then I’ll be back later,” the doctor said.
“Well.” Craig stared at Sarah, his medical mind envisioning the pain involved with her facial injuries. “I’m glad she’s sleeping.”
Rita sighed. “Me, too. It’s got to hurt so much.” Her long, slim, tapered fingers gripped the coverlet. Craig noticed she wore no ring. Funny. A few days ago that might have brought him satisfaction, the idea that she’d moved beyond her marriage to Tom, Jr.
Now it didn’t matter. The only thing that had meaning was getting Sarah better. Helping her heal.
“Listen! Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains, bounding over the hills…” The snip from the second chapter of Song of Songs danced in Sarah’s head. Peace flooded her, leaving her breathless. Her hands fluttered, searching for something, someone.
A strong hand captured hers, the masculine touch tender and firm. A nice mix. “It’s all right, Sarah. Everything’s all right. Sleep.”
Her heart rate slowed. Her hands eased their frantic pawing. His voice brought safety and comfort. Relaxing, she felt the gentle pressure of his hand and the comfort of his presence. She slept.
As morning sun brightened the elongated windows, Craig felt a slight shift beneath his fingers. “Hey. You waking up?” Half standing, he leaned over the bed, keeping his touch light.
She moaned, a heart-wrenching sound. Craig cringed. His gut ached. A tear trickled out of her right eye. Gentle, he brushed it away, torn between encouraging the wakefulness and its accompanying pain or letting her drift back to sleep. Her vitals were stable. While sleeping, she wasn’t cognizant of the damage she’d suffered. Awake would be a whole different story.
An incoming nurse made the decision for him. “Waking up, I see. Hello, dearie. How are we doing?”
The inane question tweaked Craig’s ire. One look at Sarah’s face showed how she was doing. Disregarding his frown, the nurse bustled about. “You’ve got a fine young man here, don’t you? Been here some hours now.” With hands that were not nearly as careful as his had been, the nurse checked Sarah’s vitals. “And you’re doing as well as can be expected after your little mishap, hey? How’re you feeling, girlie?”
Sarah winced. Craig gripped her hand, offering support. Her mouth moved with effort, the words indistinct. “Don’t…call…me…that. Please.”
He leaned closer. “What? What did you say, Sarah?”
Eyes shut tight, she worked her jaw, grimaced in pain, ran her tongue around her lips, and said, “Don’t call me girlie.”
The nurse inclined her head. “Then I won’t,” she declared. “Just an expression, you know, but I can call you other things. How about…”
“Sarah.”
Craig sagged in relief. That sounded like the girl he knew. He met the nurse’s eye. “It’s a great name.”
“Well, it is, and don’t I know it, my granny’s name and all. Not one of us inherited her name, can you believe it? Seven children, five of them girls, and not a Sarah among ’em. Now, my second-born, she’s a Sara, without the H, you know, more modern and all, and a university girl in Albany.”
“That’s nice.” Craig replied, then nodded toward the bed. “But this Sarah needs more rest.”
“Aye, but it’s good to see her waking a bit, coming to and all. They worried sick for her when they brought her in, her face torn up like that. I bet she was a pretty thing, wasn’t she?”
“Go,” Craig ordered, half standing, his palms braced against the arms of the chair. He put on his doctor’s voice, not bothering to soften the anger at her thoughtlessness. Without ceremony he pointed to the door. “Out.”
“Why—” Flustered, the middle-aged woman looked flummoxed, then reared back realizing what she’d said. “I meant nothing by it. Just a shame and all.”
Craig stepped away from the chair. The nurse beat a hasty retreat, hands waving. A long moment of silence ensued before Sarah asked, “How bad is it?”
His hesitation told her more than his words. “It looks worse than it is. Probably feels that way, too.”
“There’s a comfort.”
Her tone told him she was erecting walls faster than he could possibly dismantle them. “You broke your cheekbone and your nose. Loosened a few teeth. Some cuts and bruising. Facial edema, typical with your injuries. They’ve applied ice and they have you on an IV antibiotic laced with pain meds. There’s bruising across your chest and upper arms, but no broken ribs or punctured lungs. Once the swelling goes down, they’ll realign the
cheekbone. Six weeks healing time, more or less.”
“So I’m grotesque and snaggle-toothed.” She kept her eyes closed, her tone defeated. “Go home, Doctor.”
“Once Rita’s back, I’ll head to the clinic.”
“Reet was here?” Her tone brightened. Rita’s presence obviously made her happy. His? Not so much.
“She took the kids home late last night. We’re taking shifts.”
“Yours is over.”
“And you’re testy. I’ve had mutts with better temperament after a car chase gone bad. Lay off, Sarah.”
“Craig…”
He ran one finger along the curve of her less-injured cheek. “I’m so sorry you got hurt. I wish I’d been closer. There to help.”
Her cheek arched into his touch. Not much, but the reaction sent a more defined signal to a man who’d just been ordered out of the room. Maybe his attentions weren’t as unwelcome as the young shepherd made out.
“How are the sheep?”
He drew a breath. “Sixteen were lost. We saved twelve.” He watched while she digested the information. Saw her lip quiver before she clamped it down. “I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
The doctor strode in. “The princess awakens. How are we doing?”
“My face and chest met a sugar maple head on. I’ve been better.”
“Feisty.” The doctor made a note. He eyed Craig. “Is this normal behavior or out of the ordinary?”
“Depends who she’s talking to, I’d say.”
“Oh.” Another note scribbled. “Pain, Sarah?”
“No, thanks. I’ve got plenty.”
“Sarah.” Her responses unnerved Craig. Calm, strong, stoic Sarah Slocum was in rare form. The doctor nudged Craig’s shoulder. He looked up.
“Pain meds can render a normally quiet person quite talkative. Even combative. Could be what you’re seeing.”
“Either that or someone has taken over her body,” Craig replied with a shake of his head. “Normally Sarah’s more reticent.”
“And you know this because…?” Her right eye peeked open, glaring. He drew his brows together, made his look quizzical.
“Love thy neighbor, Sarah.” He ignored her huff of indignation. “Straight out of the Bible.”
“A recent acquaintanceship?”
That arrow hit home. Craig shrugged it off. “Let’s say an old friend, revisited.”
“Go find your model girlfriend, Doc. She fits your style.”
“She doesn’t.” Something in his tone snared her attention. She stared at him, vulnerable. Once more he ran his forefinger along the edge of her cheek. “My style’s more classic.”
“This week.” Cynicism laced her tone. Craig glanced left as the door swung open. Rita entered, an eyebrow up.
“Maybe next week as well,” Craig teased, keeping his finger gentle beneath her cheek. “Rita’s just come in, which means I have to go to work.” He stood, stretching. “Great chair.” His frown said it was anything but.
The doctor nodded. “I’m going to talk with our patient. Because the zygoma is a painful break, I’m going to keep her on meds until the throbbing lessens and the swelling reduces. The maxillofacial surgeon should be around later today. Sarah’s rate of healing will decide the surgery schedule. Luckily, the nose break was at the bridge and has aligned itself perfectly so we shouldn’t need reconstruction there as long as it heals in position.”
“Good.” Craig leaned down, angling his head to catch Sarah’s averted gaze. She shut her eye, blocking him out. He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be back later. Behave.”
Nothing. He rolled his eyes at her bad-temperedness and faced Rita. “All yours.”
Rita shook her head. “I’ve never seen her like this,” she whispered, eyes wide. “Sarah can make it through days without uttering more than a handful of sentences. And she’s always the peacemaker.”
“Either I bring out the worst in her—” watching Sarah’s face, Craig noted the wince “—or the meds have her high.”
“Oh.”
Rethinking his choice of words, Craig cringed. Saying “high” to an alcoholic might be insensitive.
Rita read his look. “It’s a feeling I’ve some experience with,” she noted, wry, an eyebrow arched in his direction.
Heat climbed Craig’s neck. He fumbled for words. Rita laid a hand on his arm, her look gentle. “It’s fine, Craig. Go to work. I’ve got her.”
He nodded and turned once more to the bed. “I’ll be back later. And I’ll check on the sheep. Jack and Mike are taking care of things.”
No answer. Craig sighed and headed for the door. She called his name as he reached for the handle. He stepped back. “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
His heart lightened. He gripped the edge of the door, knuckles straining, and gave her a slow nod she couldn’t see. “You’re welcome, honey.”
Chapter Nineteen
Honey? Honey? Through the clench of pain, Sarah’s anger surged. How dare he? How—
Alongside the anger sparked a flash of hope. A hint of peace inspired by the graze of his finger against her skin. The comfort it inspired, and the longing that rose within.
He’d do the same for someone’s dog, she scolded, tamping the rise of expectation. Don’t fool yourself that anything’s changed. Craig Macklin knows the moves of a game you’ve never played. Adjust your books accordingly, girl.
Pushing thoughts of Craig aside, she focused her good eye on the doctor. By the time he finished road-mapping treatments, waves of sleep pressed upon her like a quilted throw. As the doctor’s footsteps faded, Rita came into her viewing space. In one hand she clutched a travel mug of coffee. The other gripped a book. She held them aloft. “Sleep,” she ordered, her voice sounding like the Rita of old. “I’ve got a great book and twenty ounces of premium coffee. I’m good to go.”
Sarah blinked, trying to focus, but her eyelids refused to stay open. Rita gave her a gentle smile. The hand that smoothed hair away from her forehead was tender but strong. “Sleep, Sarah. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Drifting between the lure of the muted afternoon sun and the veil of med-induced sleep, Sarah mulled her situation.
She’d listened for his voice. During the hours of fighting pain and losing, she’d listened, hoping to hear him call her name.
Then she woke to find him sitting with her. Holding her hand. It made her blush to remember her reaction to his touch. The thrill his interest inspired.
Disciplining herself, she drew to mind every blank look Craig ever threw her way, every slight she could remember. That should give her enough backbone to resist Dr. Macklin’s newly enthused attentions. Memories of the strawberry blonde in the silver coupe were icing on the cake. Craig was a player.
Sarah was fresh out of games.
She’d slept most of the day. Rita appeared to be enjoying the almost finished book. She even gave an exaggerated glance to her watch once Sarah woke. “You can rest more, you know. I’ve got seventy pages left so another hour’s nap would be just fine.”
“Was that a joke?”
“Kind of.”
“Nice improvement, Reet. You got another?”
“Aren’t you tired?”
“Been sleeping all day.” Sarah remembered the disjointed dreams, the waxing feeling of loss of control. “What time do I get my pain meds again?”
“That bad, huh?” At Sarah’s blink, Rita shook her head and waved a hand to the IV. “You’re getting them, doll face. Right there. They’re pumping steady.”
“Not enough.”
Rita started to commiserate but Sarah waved her off. “Ignore me, Reet. I don’t know what I’m saying half the time. Things I’d never normally say out loud come shooting out of my mouth.”
“Then this could be an interesting night.”
Sarah turned her head with care. Craig lounged in the doorway, a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. He moved forward, his gaze locked on hers. At the bed
he handed them to her, watching as she brought the mixed bunch to her nose. She took a deep breath, enjoying the blend of fragrances, spicy and sweet. “Like ’em?”
She swallowed hard, not looking up. “They’re beautiful.”
“I thought so.” Craig leaned in for his own sniff. “They had all kinds,” he explained, his voice gentle. His proximity made it impossible not to look at him. Gold eyes flecked with brown, clean-shaven, thick brows that matched his sandy hair. The smell of fresh soap and nice aftershave with a hint of coffee. A heady combination. “Roses. Daisies. Some cool, tropical-looking thing with a name that rivals medical terminology.” He paused, watching her. “I thought a mixed bouquet was best.”
“Because I’m a mix.” Sarah knew her tone was defensive. She didn’t care.
“Aren’t we all?” Staring her down, he continued, “I was thinking more along the lines of personality.” He fingered a sturdy yellow mum. “Strength.” His eye went to a magnificent rose. “Beauty.” He shifted his gaze to a fresh, white daisy. “Endurance.” Bending, he inhaled the scent of a gorgeous lily. “And faith. It reminded me of you.”
Rita stood. “Craig, I’m heading out since you’re here. I’ll bring the kids back later. I told Sarah I’m moving in to her place for a bit. Help take care of things until she can do it herself. I’m sure the idea totally intimidates her.” Giving her sister-in-law a grin, Rita turned back to Craig. “But it will make things easier all around.”
Craig nodded. “I think it’s a great idea.”
Sarah snorted. “Who asked your opinion?”
Craig met Rita’s eye over the flowers. “Still feisty?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“We could up the meds.” He studied the IV, pondering. “Can’t be much different from a canine hookup. I just adjust this little valve here—”
“That’s not funny.” Sarah stared up at him, her gaze a mix of humor and consternation.
“Then behave yourself,” Craig ordered mildly, holding her look. Reading the intensity there, she glanced down. Gulped. He arched his left brow. “That’s better. We’re going to employ a new rule for the rest of the night. If you can’t say something nice—”
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