With a Little Help

by Valerie Parv

  While the police dealt with the scene outside, he let Grace steer him back into the house, aware of Emma welded to his other side. “How can I help?” she asked.

  “He’ll need an ice pack or some ice wrapped in a towel,” she instructed. “Ibuprofen if you can find some.”

  “First aid kit, bathroom off the den,” he said. Pain radiated down his hand and up into his forearm. A double Scotch was indicated, but he knew no doctor would agree until they learned the damage they were dealing with.

  Annoyed with himself, he sat down at Grace’s instigation, and allowed her to examine his arm. “No tenderness at the base of your thumb?” she asked when she reached there.

  “It’s one big tenderness,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve fractured the scaphoid. Feels more like ligament damage.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “When did you develop X-ray vision?”

  “I’ll get it x-rayed. I know the drill.”

  Emma hurried back with ice swathed in a towel and watched anxiously as Grace finished examining Nate’s arm and applied the pack to his wrist. “Nate, I’m so sorry,” she said.

  Breathing through the pain, he shook his head. “Wasn’t your fault. If anything it’s mine. The intruders are the two young punks I headed off when I brought Luke home the night we did the bay walk.”

  At the mention of the walk, Grace looked from her patient to Emma and back again, but wisely made no comment. “How’s the ice feeling?”

  “Better,” he said, although the benefit was minimal. “I could use some ibuprofen, though.”

  Emma held out two capsules and a glass of water, hovering while he swallowed the painkillers. Then she took the glass from him. “The police want to speak to us when you’re ready.”

  “Can they come in here?”

  “I’ll check.”

  BY THE TIME EMMA GOT OUTSIDE, the fire was out and the police had the gang members in the back of a squad car. They were taking a statement from Luke while his parents stood at his side. Mike Lockwood saw her and came over. “How’s Nate?”

  “In pain. Grace is taking care of him.”

  Some of the worry eased from Mike’s expression. “My wife’s probably the only one he’d cooperate with. I told the police what I saw, including how Nate came to be injured.”

  “Nate wants to know if they can interview him inside. He’s putting on a brave front, but hurting more than he’s letting on. Oh, Mike, how could this happen?”

  He heard the regret in her voice. “You can’t blame yourself, Emma.”

  “That’s what Nate says, but if he hadn’t tried to save me, I’d be the injured one, not him.”

  “And Nate would be beating himself up for letting that happen.”

  “You know him well, don’t you?”

  Mike nodded. “He introduced me to Grace when they were at medical school together.”

  “You’re a doctor?”

  “Hospital administrator. I know all about doctors as patients, and Grace will have her hands full with this one.”

  Emma’s fear surged anew. “He thinks he’s done some ligament damage.”

  Mike smiled. “A sprain to you and me. If the injury’s moderate, he’ll probably need a splint and a couple of days of cold therapy, then three weeks or so of recovery time.”

  She felt the ground shift beneath her. “He’s a surgeon. He needs his hands.”

  “All the more reason to rest and give himself time to recover.” Mike placed his hands on her shoulders. “Nate’s one of the most brilliant surgeons in the profession. He knows what’s at stake and what he’ll have to do. He may not be a willing patient, but he won’t put his career at risk.”

  “He already did,” she said in a low voice. While the drama was happening, she’d felt coldly distant, but now heard her voice tremble. She suspected her knees weren’t going to hold her up much longer.

  Mike saw her start to crumble. “I’ll talk to the cops. You go inside and sit down.”

  She didn’t argue. The fire in her van was out, but the sight of the damage as she passed made her wince.

  Inside, Grace was securing an elastic bandage around Nate’s wrist. “This will hold you until you get to X-ray.”

  “Tomorrow,” he said.

  “Tonight. I’m taking you to the hospital myself as soon as we’re done here.”

  He dropped the argument but the set of his jaw suggested he was far from giving in. Catching sight of Emma’s face, Grace steered her to the couch beside Nate and pulled a throw rug around her shoulders. Her cool fingers dropped to Emma’s wrist.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted.

  Grace released her. “Luckily, I think you are. Sit still and rest, and you might stay fine.”

  Emma let her head drop back against the couch. “Your car doesn’t look too bad, but the van is a mess.”

  “They can be fixed,” Grace echoed Nate. “You two stay put. I’ll see what’s keeping the police.”

  Alone with Nate, Emma forced her eyes open. “Thanks for what you did tonight.”

  “What on earth made you confront those idiots on your own?”

  His anger lanced through her. Not personal, she told herself. Men often lashed out when they were in pain. “When they turned up, I thought they might belong to one of your guests.”

  “Until they started throwing firecrackers. Didn’t stop you, I noticed.”

  “All I could think of was saving my van.” She suspected he knew she couldn’t afford a replacement.

  “Your insurance should cover most of the cost, and the damage may look worse than it is.”

  Like his wrist, she thought. Grace had used a scarf as a temporary sling, lifting his arm above the level of his heart. “Does your arm hurt much?”

  “Starting to care about me, Emma?”

  The steely-voiced question made her jerk her head toward him. “Of course I am. You were injured saving me.”

  “Don’t read too much into this,” he cautioned. “Anyone would have done the same.”

  But they hadn’t, he had. She considered saying so, then thought better of it. He didn’t want her getting ideas about him any more than she wanted to be having them. If they kept sneaking into her mind, that was for her alone to know.

  Despite the throw, she began to shiver and felt his good arm come around her shoulders. Don’t think, don’t reason, just accept the comfort he was offering, she ordered herself. Not easy to do when his touch set her nerves ablaze.

  Grace came back with one of the officers. Emma expected Nate to pull his arm away but he didn’t, and again she saw Grace’s speculative look. By the time they’d given their statements, Emma felt her face glowing, but any move she made now would only make his touch more obvious, so she stilled and suffered.

  “Right, hospital time,” Grace said after the officers left.

  “I don’t need a hospital,” Emma said, thankful to have an excuse to stand. Her legs felt rubbery but held her up.

  “You need a ride home,” Grace pointed out. “Your van doesn’t look drivable. Besides, I might need some help with my patient.”

  Nate muttered something about pushy women doctors, but allowed them to help him off the couch and into the front seat of Grace’s car. The police had arranged a ride home for Mike to relieve his mother of babysitting duties. Emma settled into the backseat. She felt bruised all over and more tired than she could remember.

  Nate’s parents were staying at the house until Nate got back. They watched anxiously as Grace fastened his seat belt, careful not to jar his injured arm. Before she could close the door, Luke pushed between them and up to his half brother. “You okay?”

  “I will be,” Nate assured him. “What about you?”

  The teenager gestured dismissively. “Nibs punches like a girl. Couldn’t hurt me if he tried.”

  “You were quite a hero tonight,” Nate said.

  “If I hadn’t blabbed about the party on Facebook, Elk and Nibs wouldn’t have showed up and caused trouble.”
<
br />   “You didn’t invite them here.”

  “No, but—”

  “Then it isn’t your fault. Got that?”

  It was what Luke wanted to believe, Emma saw. His face twisted into a mask of distress. “There’s something else.”

  Nate’s shoulders tensed, but he said easily, “Spill.”

  “I’m not seeing those guys again.”

  “If they threw you out of the gang, it isn’t the end of the world.”

  “They didn’t throw me out. I told them what they can do with their gang. Doing graffiti and stuff is one thing, but they didn’t have to hurt you.”

  Nate grasped the teenager’s hand with his good one. “They didn’t do much damage. I’ll still be able to slaughter you at ‘Dread Commando.’”

  Luke managed a smile. “You and whose robo army?”

  Grace tapped the steering wheel. “If you two cyber warriors have finished posturing, I’d like to see my kids again before they’re grown-up.” Luke slammed the car door and stepped back, his parents on either side of him as she pulled away.

  “Sounds as if Luke learned a few things tonight,” Emma said.

  “Wouldn’t count on it. He’s had the chance to mend his ways before.”

  “You’ve never been hurt because of something he did before. It could make a difference.”

  Grace drove carefully, glancing occasionally at her patient. “Emma has a point.”

  Intercepting one of the looks, Nate growled, “I didn’t break into pieces, Grace. It’s only a sprained wrist.”

  “What would you tell a patient who presented with a preconceived diagnosis?”

  “If they were right, I’d thank them for saving taxpayers’ dollars on unnecessary tests.”

  “Sure you would. Then you’d order the tests anyway.”

  Listening to them was like being at home with her family, Emma thought, the reminder like a dash of cold water. Tonight, she’d almost—almost—let herself get past Nate’s career to the man inside the white coat. When he’d placed his arm around her, she’d felt warmed more than physically.

  Exhausted and upset, she was in completely the wrong state of mind to think about anything but getting some sleep, then sorting out the mess of her van and equipment. The attraction she felt for Nate was a far bigger mess, but she didn’t dare let her mind go there in her present condition.

  Every part of her ached and her limbs trembled. When Grace pulled into Bennelong Hospital, Emma felt like bursting into tears. But she dragged herself together. Nate had been hurt saving her. No matter how he felt about her, he’d have to deal with her concern for him tonight. The rest could wait until she satisfied herself he was going to be all right.

  Grace parked her car in a marked spot. “One of the perks of seniority is an allocated car space.” This late, there was plenty of visitor parking but Emma could imagine how busy the place would be during the day.

  Not waiting for assistance, Nate levered himself out of the car. “Take Emma home, Grace, I know my way from here.”

  “Not a chance.” Grace laughed as she and Emma spoke in unison.

  “The minute I let you out of my sight, you’ll head for your office and hide out there,” Grace added.

  “I do not hide out in my office.” He sounded pained, as much by the accusation as by his injury. “Tell this interfering woman that you’d rather go home,” he urged Emma.

  “Can’t see any interfering women here, only your doctor and me.”

  He made a face. “Two against one, and an injured one, is hardly fair.”

  “Now you’re injured, are you?” To Emma, Grace said, “Let’s get him onto a gurney before he turns back into Mr. Invincible.”

  “Dr. Invincible to you,” he growled. “And I don’t need a blasted gurney. I can walk in under my own steam.”

  “Is he always this difficult?” Emma asked, as he strode ahead of them toward the entrance.

  “Trust me, this is mellow.”

  He looked back. “Emma’s not interested.”

  A lot of other people were, she saw as they entered the reception area. Around her, eyebrows went up at the sight of an injured Nathan Hale turning up at one in the morning. Among the night staff, whispered comments greeted his entry, but nobody said anything to Nate himself. Which signified what? In his domain, her father was an autocrat. His colleagues respected him, but there was little warmth and he didn’t encourage any. What was Nate’s preferred style?

  As if in answer, the atmosphere shifted and first one, then another of the night staff approached, wanting to know how they could help. “Keep this woman away from me,” he suggested, jerking his head at Grace.

  “I was going to ask the same favor,” Grace snapped.

  The sparring continued as she led the way past a suite of rooms with Nate’s name and a string of letters after it on the door, steering him by his good arm when he made noises about stopping in for a few minutes. “X-ray first, then you can practice your putting in your office.”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, sure, I love being back at work in the middle of the night. I hope you realize I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.”

  He turned to Emma, his expression sobering. “How are you holding up?”

  There was little point pretending, when she probably looked as bad as she felt. “I’ve had better days.”

  “You didn’t have to stay.”

  She didn’t want to admit how much she needed to be at his side. “I’ve come this far, I’ll stick it out.”

  Grace intervened. “Now you’re here, I’d like to get you checked over, too, Emma.”

  “What for? Nate caught the force of the trolley. I wasn’t even grazed.”

  “You took on one of the thugs,” Nate said. “Grace is right. While you’re here, it’s a sensible precaution.”

  Of course he would be sensible. Not because he felt anything for her, but because it was sound medical advice. She suspected she’d have her share of bruises from grappling with the gangster, but they didn’t account for the one blooming in the region of her heart. No doubt Nate would have a medical explanation.

  What would he diagnose if he suspected the strength of the need gripping her whenever she was close to him? Or prescribe to make the desire go away? She’d never know because he wasn’t going to find out.

  She wasn’t falling in love with a doctor. Or with anyone in the medical profession. Her mother’s injunction came back to her, If you can’t be a doctor, you might as well marry one. What an admission of failure that would be.

  NATE FELT A PANG AS HE HANDED Emma over to a colleague. She looked so fragile that he almost pulled rank on Grace, and insisted on waiting until Emma had been examined. But Grace was in no mood to humor him, and he did want to find out the full extent of the damage to his wrist.

  He hid his concern for Emma in a doctorly assurance. “This won’t take long. We’ll drive you home as soon as we’re done.”

  Walking away was harder still. “Who’s on duty tonight?” he asked Grace.

  “Amy Lester. Pity she’s only x-raying your arm.”

  Had he missed something? “What?”

  She opened the door into a waiting room. “A scan of your heart might show a hairline fracture.”

  In the entrance, he froze. “What the devil are you talking about?”

  She ushered him through. “Emma’s getting to you, isn’t she?”

  “She’s the daughter of a friend. And a spectacular cook.”

  “Not to mention walking companion, and special enough to put your career on the line for her.”

  No use telling Grace he’d have done the same for anyone. They went back a long way, and she knew how important practicing surgery was to him. Before he undertook any physical activity, he assessed the risk to his hands. So his actions tonight had been a dead giveaway. But he was in no mood to discuss his feelings, even with a good friend. “Can we get this over with?”

  Dr. Lester did
a double take when she recognized her patient. She heard Grace’s report of the accident, then examined Nate’s entire arm and hand while he tried not to grit his teeth.

  “No, I don’t have any numbness in my hand,” he anticipated her question. “And there’s no history of previous injury to hand or wrist. Satisfied?”

  She took his sour mood in her stride. “My tentative diagnosis is a grade two sprain with some tearing of the ligaments. The X-ray will tell us more.”

  Shortly afterward, he joined her to look at the film clipped to a board. A wet read wasn’t always conclusive, but was enough to convince him her diagnosis was accurate. “See, no problems other than the sprain.”

  Dr. Lester frowned. “Based on your level of pain, amount of swelling and restriction of movement, I’m concerned about an occult fracture. I’ll immobilize the injury with a Velcro splint tonight, then we’ll do a repeat X-ray in five days. In the meantime, keep up the ice therapy every few hours for the next day or so.”

  She fitted and adjusted the splint. “There. Try and keep the arm elevated, and above all, rest your hand for at least two weeks.”

  He had a feeling she knew which treatment he’d find hardest to endure. Resting wasn’t his favorite activity at the best of times. But he of all people knew that if he used the hand too soon, he risked further injury and a longer recovery time.

  “I hear you,” he said, lacking the fire to argue. Pain and fatigue were taking a toll. He’d done twelve-hour surgeries without feeling this wrung out. Picturing Emma so close to being crushed by the trolley didn’t help, but he couldn’t get the image out of his mind.

  He found Grace in the waiting room. “While you were with Amy, I used the time to rearrange the surgery schedule, sharing your cases between me and the rest of the team. Did you know you’re due over six months of accumulated leave?”

  “Don’t sound so pleased about it. I always suspected you wanted my job.”

  She waved away his complaint. “You can have it back as soon as you’re ready. In about four weeks.”