Harlequin Heartwarming April 2018 Box Set

by Amy Vastine

  “Bad?” Bering asked.

  “Grizzly bear.”

  Bering winced and muttered under his breath.

  “Oh, no!” Emily cried, one hand coming to rest possessively on Brady’s back.

  No further explanation was necessary. Everyone who lived in Rankins, or the rest of Alaska for that matter, knew what those two words meant.

  * * *

  SO MUCH BLOOD. Too much to see exactly how much damage the bear had wrought. With nimble fingers, Ally Mowak probed her fifteen-year-old cousin Louis’s wounds. The dressings in her first aid kit weren’t going to go far, not with this amount of shredded skin. She slipped off her jacket as well as the thick fleece shirt beneath it. Using the knife she’d already wielded to cut away Louis’s tattered clothing, she went to work on her own, arranging strips of cloth on the worst of his wounds.

  “Quinn?” she barked at the other teenager crouched beside her. Zombielike, he stared down at Louis. “Quinn, look at me.” Grabbing his shoulder, she gave it a shake. “See what I’m doing?”

  Blinking slowly, Quinn managed to wrest his gaze from Louis.

  Still cutting, she repeated, “See what I’m doing? How I’m making strips? I need you to do this with your sweatshirt, too. Do you understand?”

  Blank eyes stared back at her. Ally feared he might pass out. Combat experience had taught her that the best way to handle a person on the verge of shock was to keep them moving—even better if you could give them a job to do.

  “Quinn, I need your help here, kiddo.”

  Louis let out a moan, hoarse and full of anguish.

  That seemed to spur something in Quinn, and he nodded. He removed his top and held out a hand. Handle first, she passed him the knife. “It’s super sharp, okay?” she warned. “And hey.” Gripping his shoulder tightly until dark brown, terror-filled eyes met hers, she forced a confidence she didn’t feel into her tone. “He looks worse than he is. We will save him. But this is important. We need these strips to stop the bleeding.”

  The sound of crunching leaves and snapping branches had her snatching up the bear spray at her side. Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream. Jessie and Ryder Shelton and their three monster-sized dogs, Colfax, Pia and Fife, emerged from the brush. Exhaling a relieved breath, she dropped the canister and focused her attention back on to her patient.

  “That was fast,” she said. “I expected you to come across the lake.”

  “The ATV was quicker.” Jessie knelt on the opposite side of Louis, already tearing into the packs of dressings she’d brought along. “We have a stretcher.”

  Ally and her teenaged cousins Louis and Quinn had spent the morning fishing in Jessie’s canoe on Jasper Lake. A road accessed the scattering of homes located on the south shore of the lake, while the wooded northwestern shore could be reached only by boat or trail.

  As lunchtime approached, she and the boys had paddled to this remote portion to eat and enjoy the view. Quinn had suggested a hike up a scenic trail that followed a winding stream past Sullivan’s Spring to Sullivan’s Falls. Round trip was only a few miles, and because they’d made it almost back to the spring when the bear attacked, Ally estimated they were now half a mile from the lake.

  Thank the stars, she had her cell phone. Double and triple thanks that she had service and Jessie was around to hear the call. Jessie and Ryder ran a dog rescue facility, where Jessie rehabilitated injured and abused dogs, and Ryder trained service dogs for the police and military.

  Ryder silently went to work on Louis’s neck and shoulder. After doing what they could on his front, they rolled him over so Ally could inspect his back. Relief surged through her. It didn’t appear that the bear had punctured the chest or abdominal cavity.

  “Tag James is picking him up in his float plane,” Jessie said. “It’s the fastest way. The Coast Guard could send a search and rescue team with a hoist, but it would take longer. I already called.”

  “Good.” Ally was relieved. The less jostling around for Louis, the better. “Let’s get him on the stretcher. I want to stop at the spring on the way to the lake.”

  * * *

  TAG CLIMBED OUT of the plane onto the pontoon and stepped into the shallow water of the lake. A few splashing strides and the pebbles of the shoreline were crunching beneath his booted feet. He hurried to where his friend Ryder stood nearby.

  “Ryder, man, I’m glad to see you and Jessie here.”

  Ryder was former military special forces and had medical training. Transport would go so much faster with his help since Tag didn’t have to apply first aid and stabilize the patient. Already on a stretcher and covered with a wool blanket, the wounded teenager looked ready for transport. A girl was crouched beside him, holding his hand. Jessie stood several feet away, talking with another boy.

  “Hey, Tag. Feeling’s mutual,” Ryder said, giving his hand a quick shake.

  Taking positions on each end of the stretcher, they quickly loaded the patient inside the plane while Ryder filled him in on the details of the attack. Tag didn’t notice the problem until they’d secured the stretcher inside. That’s when the blanket shifted, and instead of fresh white dressing, he saw dingy gray-and-brown strips, almost like…

  Peeling the blanket back farther, he found a mass of dirty, albeit neatly arranged, bandages. What in the world? Had they dropped him? If so, why hadn’t they cleaned him up?

  “Why is he so dirty? These bandages are filthy.”

  “Ally did that,” Jessie explained. “Native healing thing. She says the clay in Sullivan’s Spring contains antibiotic properties and helps stanch the bleeding.”

  Tag was familiar with the small mineral hot spring. Most people didn’t even know it was there. It wasn’t large enough to draw visitors. There were no deep or colorful pools to attract attention, but he’d heard about its purported healing properties for most of his life.

  “Who is Ally?” he asked, although his keen powers of deduction were telling him she had to be the only other female who wasn’t Jessie. Initially he’d assumed she was a teenager, maybe the injured kid’s sister or girlfriend, as she’d been holding his hand and talking to him right up until they’d loaded him inside the plane.

  Ryder’s brows shot up. “Ally Mowak? You haven’t met her yet?”

  “No. Why would I have?”

  “She’s the new hospital liaison in Rankins. I guess, technically, she doesn’t start until tomorrow.”

  Tag glanced over to where Ally was hurriedly stuffing gear into a backpack. Pretty, and like Jessie, she appeared to be of Native American descent, as did the two boys. She was petite and fit, her silky black hair tied back in a ponytail, and she wore no makeup. He supposed she might not be as young as he’d assumed.

  “How old is she?”

  “Young. Twenty…something. Early twenties. Old enough to have served in the Army, including a couple of combat tours. She was a medic and then came home to earn her paramedic certification.”

  “Huh.” Because of his affiliation with the hospital, he knew a liaison had been hired. Flynn Ramsey, a doctor at the hospital, had told him because the position entailed overseeing medical transport, which meant Tag would occasionally be working with the new person. Up until now, the task had been tacked on to Flynn’s already demanding schedule.

  Tag watched as Ally slung the pack over her shoulder. The two women exchanged a brief hug, and then Ally turned and jogged toward the plane.

  “Hey, pilot, let’s go!” she called, a note of impatience infusing her tone, as if he was the one who’d been holding them up. Without waiting for a response, she waded into the water, climbed nimbly onto the pontoon and scrambled inside the plane.

  Tag called out thanks to Ryder and Jessie and followed, even though he wasn’t sure of their destination yet. Anchorage and Juneau both had excellent trauma units. Either way, he needed to call and inform them the
y were en route.

  Turning around, he asked, “Alaska Regional or Bartlett?”

  “Rankins,” she answered without hesitation.

  “Rankins?” Was she serious? The kid had been mauled by a bear. “Are you sure? It’s a small hospital, and Juneau has—”

  “I know how big the hospital is,” she answered in a tone as crisp as an ice chip. “He’s my patient. It’s my call.”

  Giving his head a stupefied shake, he turned to focus on the plane’s controls. The only thing that kept him from arguing was the fact that he didn’t want to waste any time. The patient could be airlifted from Rankins if necessary. Although, at some point in the very near future, he and Ms. Mowak were going to have a conversation about patient transport protocol when he and his company were involved.

  * * *

  AS LOUIS DRIFTED in and out of consciousness, Ally held his hand, touched his cheek, told him stories, all the while closely monitoring his condition: listening to his breathing, checking his pulse, scanning every inch of him from head to toe and back again. There was some oozing through the dressings but no serious bleeding. She wished she could check the injuries on his back.

  What she really wished was that she’d been there to protect them.

  Ally had been lingering behind on the trail taking photos when she heard the boys’ screams. She’d sprinted toward the commotion, but by the time she’d arrived at the scene the bear was gone and the damage done. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a few seconds to appreciate how lucky Louis was to be alive. She still wasn’t sure why his injuries weren’t more severe. Ally was proud of him for keeping his head covered like he’d been taught, his scratched and raw forearms proof of the defensive move. A bear’s powerful jaws could remove a person’s entire face or crack the skull with a single bite, as easily as a nutcracker splitting an acorn.

  Quinn said that in those few seconds of awareness before the attack he’d thought they were both dead. The boys had been standing maybe ten feet apart when they heard a noise in the brush behind them. They hadn’t had time to do more than turn before three-hundred-plus pounds of muscle, claws and teeth were charging toward them.

  For whatever reason, the bear had gone for Louis first. As Quinn scrambled to retrieve his bear spray from the holster on his hip, the sow, seemingly distracted by something in the trees, had dropped Louis almost as quickly as she’d attacked and loped back into the brush. Probably her cubs, Ally theorized, as Quinn had seen two little ones scooting ahead of the bear’s retreating form.

  It seemed like only a few minutes before the plane was descending toward the waters of the bay adjacent to the town of Rankins. After a smooth-as-glass landing, they were ferrying toward the dock. Red and blue lights from the waiting ambulance were a balm to the gnawing worry in her gut. She’d thoroughly assessed Louis’s injuries, but with the conditions and the limited resources in the field, she knew there was a chance she’d missed something.

  With efficiency and care Ally approved of, the onshore team rushed Louis into the ambulance for the short ride to the hospital. She joined him inside and was soon handing her cousin off again, this time to a team of doctors and nurses.

  Relief rushed through her when she saw Dr. Ramsey instead of Dr. Boyd. Like her, Flynn was new to Rankins Hospital but old to Alaska, meaning he’d grown up here, too. He was also sympathetic to traditional medical practices. He would understand the clay.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “IN THIS HOSPITAL, Ms. Mowak, we don’t treat patients with dirt.” Dr. Robert P. Boyd leveled his glacier-blue glare at Ally. He even looked like ice, she decided, with his white hair and snowy-smooth skin. The sharp edges of his shoulders and elbows jutted against his white jacket.

  So much for her hope that Dr. Boyd wouldn’t get wind of her use of clay on Louis’s wounds. Poof went her plan to ease into a relationship with the chief physician at Rankins Hospital.

  Ally already knew that an education, even one as extensive as a doctorate, didn’t guarantee wisdom. Knowledge, sure. Wisdom, not so much.

  Her grandfather, Abe Mowak, had been using medicinal clays on patients ever since Ally could remember. Clay from Sullivan’s Spring was among his most valued. She’d collected some for him last time she’d visited Jessie, which was how she’d gotten the idea to use it on Louis.

  “As an Army medic and a paramedic, I know you’re aware of the proper treatment for lacerations and punctures of this severity.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dr. Ramsey informed me of the fact that the patient is a relative of yours, but that makes no difference where medical procedures in this hospital are concerned. I acknowledge that Louis’s mother, your aunt I understand, has no problem with it. But trust me when I tell you that family connections are no guarantee when it comes to lawsuits.”

  Dr. Boyd flipped through a sheaf of papers on the desk in front of him. Best guess, the file contained her résumé, Army record and reference letters. Then again, there could be anything in there—photos of his grandchildren, sudoku puzzles, his grocery list. The point was to intimidate her. Obviously Dr. Boyd didn’t know her yet.

  Flynn Ramsey, Ally’s supervisor and friend, sat beside her. He tilted his head and mouthed a silent “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” Ally mouthed back and added a wink.

  Dr. Boyd addressed her again. “In case you haven’t had time to consult the hospital’s policy, I’ve had my secretary highlight the portions…”

  The reprimand continued, and after much longer than necessary, he finally quieted and looked at Ally expectantly. Apparently it was time for her to respond.

  She’d love to tell him exactly what she thought of his antiquated opinions, but she knew better. “Actions heal, words incite” was one of her grandfather’s favorite sayings. But she couldn’t resist trying to plant a seed, at least.

  “Have you heard of the antibacterial properties of mineral clay, Dr. Boyd?”

  “That’s what antibiotics are for, Ms. Mowak. Perhaps you’ve heard of penicillin?”

  Perhaps you’ve heard of MRSA, Dr. Boyd? The sarcastic retort tap-danced silently across her tongue. Ally knew that Rankins Hospital had battled a bout of the antibiotic-resistant staph bacteria a few months back. MRSA and other superbugs like it were a direct result of the overuse of antibiotics. But she didn’t say that, either. She wouldn’t want the inference to be that she thought Louis shouldn’t receive antibiotics. Dr. Boyd seemed like the word-twisting type.

  Then there was the fact that this was her first day on the job, a job she’d been training for and working toward her entire life. Her grandfather had sacrificed so much for her. No way would she let him down by getting fired before she even started. She knew that technically Dr. Boyd alone couldn’t fire her. That decision would require a vote by the entire hospital board. But Dr. Boyd was the ultimate medical authority here at the hospital, and she knew that her job, as well as her overarching mission, would go so much smoother if she could establish a good relationship with him.

  “Of course,” she responded. “I’m a huge proponent of antibiotics when administered correctly. I’m grateful Dr. Ramsey prescribed them for Louis.” Ally flipped an appreciative smile in Flynn’s direction.

  Dr. Boyd sat back and studied her. His long surgeon’s fingers curled over the arms of his chair, where they twitched menacingly like two hungry albino spiders.

  An awkward silence ensued. “Now, I realize this is your first day on the job as our new hospital liaison.”

  “Yes, it is, sir. And I appreciate your taking the time to go over these important rules with me. Working here at Rankins Hospital is a dream come true, and I assure you I’ll do whatever is necessary to make a smooth transition, including rereading the handbook the hospital has provided and reviewing all of these highlighted notes.”

  Dr. Boyd sniffed and adjusted his glasses. “That sounds fine.”<
br />
  Ally thought he looked suitably defused, so she stood. “If there’s nothing further then, I’m anxious to get to work.”

  * * *

  APPROXIMATELY TWENTY MINUTES later Ally was still trying to calm down. Seated behind her new desk inside her new office, she read her new job description for about the millionth time. Certain sections seemed to glow from the pages, reminding her why she was here: To facilitate patient care regarding medical treatment, procedures, hospital stays and preventative care… Appropriate consideration must be taken regarding the age, gender, ethnicity and religious beliefs of the patient…

  Simple words, yet so open to interpretation and incredibly challenging to implement. The knot already bunching in her stomach tightened. Did her grandfather know the monumental task she was facing here? Of course he did. She wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have faith in her.

  From the depths of her soul, she believed there had to be a way for traditional and modern medicine to meet peacefully, to merge, even. Yet she knew, and both her grandfather’s and her own experiences had taught her, how difficult the concept was for some people to accept. She hadn’t intended to wave her opinions around her new workplace quite so blatantly, and wouldn’t have, if Louis wasn’t a relative.

  A knock startled her out of her thoughts. Looking up, she saw a vaguely familiar male figure filling the open doorway. A tall figure, she couldn’t help but notice—very tall and lean. The Mariners T-shirt he wore predisposed her to like him, and she couldn’t help but appreciate the way it stretched nicely across his muscled chest. Longish dark brown hair curled over his forehead and at least a day’s growth of stubble shaded his jaw.

  Handsome face, she noted, but it didn’t look like a happy one.

  “Good morning, Ms. Mowak. Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure. Come on in.”

  Long strides carried him into the room. “How’s your cousin?”