Her Texas Rescue Doctor

by Caro Carson

  “I don’t know about better. Maybe faster, but there was a good reason. Let me tell you what happened.”

  Mrs. Burns’s sad tale had exactly the effect that Grace had known it would. Sophia was subdued, silent. Probably, like Grace, she was thinking how fortunate she was to have been born into a loving home, where the concept of Daddy hitting Mommy was unimaginable. This afternoon was a vivid reminder that other children were not so lucky.

  “Then I’m glad they moved her,” Sophia said.

  “I know. Me, too.”

  “That would have been a mess, if the two of them had started fighting again. People would have come running, and these curtains wouldn’t have kept us hidden. Hell, the guy could have thrown her right into our cubicle or something. I can’t be involved in that kind of thing. Can you imagine the shock on everyone’s faces if the curtain had come down and they’d seen Sophia Jackson lying here?”

  Grace was silent. That wasn’t exactly the empathy she’d expected.

  “Martina is threatening to leave me if I’m involved in any fights,” Sophia said. “She told Deezee the same thing.”

  Martina was a publicist, and one of the few people whom Sophia still seemed to listen to. Then again, Martina had been Deezee’s publicist first. She’d introduced the two of them, actually. It was yet another reason that Grace doubted Deezee had any real affection for Sophia. She’d been awfully good for improving his damaged reputation. He’d had the opposite effect on hers—so now Martina was helping Sophia, too, for a hefty retainer fee.

  Sophia let go of her hand and pushed herself into more of a sitting position. Her pain was clearly lessening. The medicine must be kicking in. “What time is our flight? I’m ready to get out of here.”

  I’m not.

  Grace wanted to stay here, where Deezee and publicists had no importance. Here, someone else was in charge.

  The curtain rings slid open, and Dr. Gregory walked in, laptop under his arm. Intelligent, empathetic, authoritative—Grace wanted to run to him and cling to his hand.

  She stood up to let him have his rolling stool, but he waved her back down and took the straight chair on the opposite side of the bed. When he asked Sophia how her ankle was feeling in the boot, he seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. His bedside manner, when he was literally bedside, was sympathetic and focused on the patient.

  Then again, what man didn’t focus on Sophia Jackson? The two of them looked quite striking together. Maybe not at a glance—Sophia had on that killer coat dress and her hair still looked fabulous after a couple of hours in a hospital bed, while Dr. Gregory was kind of lost under his baggy coat and shaggy hair—but they both had vividly blue eyes and really great bone structure. They’d make beautiful babies together. Beautiful, intelligent, talented babies.

  Another stab to her chest caught her by surprise. Jealousy? She couldn’t be jealous of the attention Sophia was paying to Dr. Gregory. The idea of Dr. Gregory and Sophia together ought to make her happy.

  “The ankle will heal, as long as you don’t push it too soon. That’s the good news.”

  “There’s bad news?” Sophia asked, half playful, half fearful. Clearly, she’d decided to try being charming and pleasant. She was succeeding.

  Dr. Gregory opened his laptop. “Let’s look at that chest X-ray.”

  Grace’s heart squeezed again at the sight of their two heads leaning over the computer screen together. The good news? He’d make a wonderful brother-in-law. The bad news? Her sister was too shallow to look past the surface to see what a quality guy the doctor was.

  I can see it.

  Yes, but you aren’t the one who needs to see it.

  Grace snapped out of her conversation with herself. Chest X-ray? Sophia hadn’t mentioned that she’d gotten her chest X-rayed along with her ankle.

  “I have pneumonia?” Sophia sounded very skeptical, but she was looking at Dr. Gregory in a whole new way, like maybe he did know something she didn’t know, after all.

  Dr. Gregory smiled kindly at her, an appealing little crinkle of the corners of his eyes behind unattractive brown frames. “Walking pneumonia is the common term, because younger adults tend to get this particular kind, and they keep gutting it out and going to work despite feeling sick.”

  Oh, Sophia liked that implication that she was a trooper, Grace could tell. The show must go on, and all that jazz. Sophia relaxed back on her pillows a little bit.

  “See this cloudy part of your lung? That’s fluid accumulating in a place air should be. I could’ve diagnosed pneumonia on your lung sounds alone, to be honest, but since you were going into X-ray anyway, it was best to have your lungs checked out.”

  For weeks, Grace hadn’t been able to persuade Sophia to take care of that cough, but Dr. Gregory had been able to do something about it. Still, Grace was astounded at the pneumonia diagnosis. She’d thought the cough was bad, but she hadn’t expected it to be that bad.

  “How long have you been coughing?” Dr. Gregory asked.

  Sophia looked to Grace, the keeper of all mundane information. “How long? A couple weeks?”

  Dr. Gregory looked at Grace, as well, waiting for her answer.

  Grace felt that little flutter again that came with having his attention on her. “At least a month. It started shortly after...after we got back from Vegas.” She’d been about to say shortly after you and Deezee were caught in the police raid on that club, but she didn’t want to remind Sophia of something that would make her feel bad. Sophia had apologized for that already. Besides, she was finally showing her good side to Dr. Gregory, and Grace wanted him to see that her sister was a good person.

  “I had pneumonia for a month and didn’t know it?”

  “I imagine you’ve felt worn-out every day,” Dr. Gregory said, his attention back on Sophia.

  Sophia nodded, managing to look like a martyr without looking overly dramatic at all. She was a great actress.

  “But you’ve kept working anyway?” he asked.

  Another nod.

  Grace should have felt her usual amusement at how Sophia could have anyone eating out of her hand. Instead, she felt a little irritated. Sophia had been working only if one counted clubbing as work. The pile of scripts that represented future work kept stacking up, because Sophia had been too tired to evaluate new projects after running around with her boyfriend. Today’s clinic opening had been the first actual work Sophia had done in weeks, and she’d tried to cut that short.

  She had a good reason for that. She must have felt awful. She’s really sick. What kind of sister am I to hold it against her?

  Dr. Gregory nodded at Sophia in what surely looked like approval. “You need to take a break, starting today. Pneumonia won’t go away by itself. I’m going to discharge you with some antibiotics. You’ll want to see your own physician once you finish the medicine to be certain your lungs are clear, but in the meantime, you need to rest. Drink more fluids than you want to, and don’t skip any pills, even once you start feeling better.”

  Discharge her? He was sending them away with some pills and a plastic boot? Grace felt a little panic. She didn’t want to start negotiating an airport with a sick sister in a wheelchair. Her sister had laughed with her a few minutes ago. She was being positively pleasant to Dr. Gregory now. Texas was good for her. They needed to stay right here.

  “You shouldn’t fly again until we’ve had a chance to clear up some of this fluid in your lungs,” Dr. Gregory said.

  Yes! The man was a miracle. Forget clinging to his hand. Grace wanted to throw her arms around him.

  Sophia’s radiance dimmed. “I have to get back to LA right away.”

  “Even in a pressurized cabin on a commercial airliner, the demand on the lungs increases. This fluid is making things difficult enough for you here on the ground. How did you feel on
the flight here?”

  “Ohmigod, I felt terrible, actually. I was so tired and I had such a headache. I thought it was just a crappy flight.”

  You thought it was all my fault, like I’d booked a flight just to torture you.

  “You probably weren’t getting enough oxygen.” Dr. Gregory closed the laptop. “Low oxygen saturation can cause those symptoms and more. Irritability, confusion and eventually loss of consciousness.”

  “Irritability?” Grace repeated without thinking.

  To Grace’s surprise, Sophia held her hand out to her. “Oh, Grace, I really took it out on you during the flight, didn’t I? I said some mean things. I’m sorry.”

  Grace took her hand. Squeezed. This was the second time she’d gotten to see the nice side of her sister again—and Dr. Gregory was here to see it, too. Maybe now he wouldn’t give her that puzzled look. This was proof that she didn’t work for an uncontrollable diva. The longer they stayed in Texas, the more like her old self her sister became.

  “We didn’t know I had pneumonia, though, did we? I’ll make it up to you. I promise to be extra nice to you on the plane tonight. It won’t happen again.”

  “No, it won’t,” Dr. Gregory said firmly. “You can’t fly tonight. Your ankle injury is taxing your body more than you might think. Between that stress and the pneumonia, you’d almost certainly be oxygen deprived again.”

  Sophia blinked at him. “But you can give me something for that, can’t you?”

  “For oxygen deprivation?” One corner of Dr. Gregory’s mouth quirked upward. “Sure. It’s called oxygen. You carry a tank of it with you and stick tubes up your nostrils so you don’t pass out at thirty thousand feet and force an emergency landing.”

  Sophia’s hand slid out of Grace’s to land on the blankets with a little plop. Grace looked closely at Dr. Gregory. His poker face was good, but Grace could have sworn he was getting some satisfaction out of setting Sophia straight.

  He stood and tucked the laptop under his arm. “Carrying an oxygen tank aboard would require some planning with the airline in advance. It’s only allowed when the patient absolutely must travel. I’m not going to authorize it. Your ankle needs to stay immobilized and elevated, as well. I’ll write a medical excuse for you, so the airline won’t charge you to reschedule today’s flight.”

  Double yes. Grace wanted to pump a fist in the air in victory. He couldn’t have been more crystal clear. They were grounded, stuck in Texas. Who needed Superman when Clark Kent was doing the job so perfectly? Oh, God—was she smiling?

  Grace bit her lip. Karma was surely going to get her. She’d wanted to get away from LA and stay away, and now Sophia was both injured and ill—but neither too seriously. Perfect.

  Yikes. She was such a bad sister. To assuage her guilt, she pulled out a notebook from her trusty tote bag and started a new list. Flights would have to be changed. The hotel would have to be extended. She’d ask the concierge at their Hollywood condominium to hold the mail, or possibly deliver it here, depending on the length of their stay.

  She looked up from her notebook. “How long are we staying here, then?”

  “You should give the antibiotics a week. When she’s breathing easier and her cough is better, you can fly.”

  “A week?” Sophia closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her forehead, overplaying her role a bit, in Grace’s opinion.

  “It could take you a month or more to feel a hundred percent back to normal, so don’t be surprised if the fatigue continues on well past a week.”

  “A month?” Grace couldn’t keep the happy anticipation out of her voice as she flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. “Oh, Sophie. I’ll find us a real house, a vacation rental for a month. I’ll get our clothes sent here, and line up some grocery service, and—”

  “No.” Sophia opened her eyes and glared at her from under her fingers. “I already told you I didn’t want to stay an extra day. I won’t be able to stand a week. Don’t make one of your damned lists for anything except getting me back to LA.”

  Grace pretended she couldn’t feel the disapproval Dr. Gregory was sending her sister’s way. “We don’t have a choice, Sophie. It will be good for you. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends.”

  Sophia snapped her fingers. “Book Deezee a flight. He can come out here and keep me company.”

  No, no, no!

  “There’s plenty of room in our suite.”

  It would be a nightmare. There’d be bottles of tequila everywhere, a man who referred to women as his bitches ordering Grace to fetch food and find limos for the strangers he’d invite up to their suite. There’d be noise complaints and hotel security and charges assessed for property damage. Grace would be scrambling around the clock. She couldn’t take it, she just couldn’t do it.

  Dr. Gregory, she realized, was watching her intently. Her hand was shaking. She pressed the pencil into the notebook to steady it, so it wouldn’t give her away. If she got angry, if she said no, Sophia would be dead set on yes. She needed a new tactic. Quick.

  The tip of the pencil broke, a little black scribble on her paper.

  “Grace,” the doctor said, “could I speak—”

  “Isn’t pneumonia contagious?” She tried not to sound desperate.

  His easy bedside manner was gone, but his stilted answer was still courteous. “Pneumonia isn’t contagious, but the bacterium that causes it is. Someone who comes in contact with her might develop any type of infection from it. Sinusitis, bronchitis. Those could lead to pneumonia.”

  “Are you kidding me?” But whatever else Sophia had been about to say was lost in a coughing jag.

  Grace brushed the broken pencil lead off her notebook page. She could leverage this. She could tell Deezee that Sophia was contagious, although he was as bad as Sophia, doing the opposite of anything Grace suggested. She could tell their publicist. Sophia and Deezee both listened to Martina...

  “Grace, could I speak to you for a minute?” Dr. Gregory asked.

  She looked up at him. He was much taller than she was, so she’d been looking up at him all afternoon, but he seemed like a giant now as she sat in the chair. “Of course.”

  “What for?” Sophia croaked, not quite done with her cough.

  “Alone?” he added.

  Sophia grabbed Grace’s arm, making the pencil drag across the page. “You said you wouldn’t leave me again.”

  Sophia looked so genuinely distressed, Grace didn’t have the heart to point out that she’d left her to fetch the cell phone and left to fetch the caramel non-van half-caff macchiato because Sophia had ordered her to. Right now, she looked like a little puppy that needed protecting.

  Grace looked from her sister’s blue eyes up to Dr. Gregory’s. He seemed so solid, so calm. He had the authority to deny air travel, to order medical tests, even to protect a woman from an abusive spouse.

  He could help her.

  She stood. “Don’t worry, Sophie. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  With a slide of metal curtain rings, she left with Dr. Gregory.

  Chapter Six

  Alex was dazzled by the sight of Grace in the bright Texas sun.

  Being dazzled was, of course, the temporary effect of walking from the windowless emergency room into the bright sunlight of the ambulance bay. Light adaptation was the medical term. He watched Grace blink, a reflexive move to relieve the visual discomfort as the retinas chemically altered to favor cones over rods.

  Or maybe she was just a pretty girl, shading her eyes on a sunny spring afternoon, and he was just a guy who wanted to get to know her better.

  Life was only that simple in Hollywood movies.

  Alex’s life had never been charmed. He was starting to suspect this woman’s life wasn’t quite the American dream it appeared to be on the surfa
ce, either.

  He couldn’t grill her about her apparent anxiety when it came to Sophia Jackson. As he had with his young soccer-playing patient, he started with something that he knew wouldn’t cause pain. “I wanted to let you know that Mrs. Burns has decided to use the services we offered her. She’s got an advocate with her now who will escort her to a women’s shelter when she’s ready to leave.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Grace’s smile dazzled him in a way that had nothing to do with the chemistry of the retinas. The fine tension she carried in her shoulders eased a fraction. With a firm touch, he could eliminate the rest, smoothing his thumbs from insertion to origin point on each tight muscle.

  Alex put his hands in the pockets of his white coat.

  “And the children?” Grace asked. “What happens to them?”

  “They’ll be picked up and brought to the safe house with their mother.”

  “That is really, really good news. Thank you so much for telling me.”

  “Of course.”

  He realized he was staring into her eyes—warm and brown and gold, like her hair—when she looked away. Just how long had that silent bit of gazing between them lasted?

  She made a gesture, a small wave at nothing in particular. An equally delicate worry line appeared between her brows. “Are you going to get in trouble for breaking a privacy rule or something? Is that why you brought me outside?”

  “No. You volunteered to be a witness if necessary. It’s reasonable for me to let you know that the patient is speaking up for herself, so you don’t have to.”

  Her compassion extended to him, then. She was kind to worry that he’d be in trouble. Maybe she was too compassionate, though. If she didn’t guard her heart, she would always be worrying about others.

  She smiled again, another bit of tension leaving her shoulders. “I’m so glad to hear that. Can you keep me updated? I want to know if everything turns out okay.”

  “That probably would be crossing a line when it comes to privacy laws. I doubt I’ll ever get an update, either. I don’t see most of my patients more than once.”