Doctor to the Rescue

by Cheryl Wyatt

  Especially since the ink had dried on unpreventable papers. Ones on which Tia’s mom had too easily signed her away. Anger consumed him that Ava chose a sleazy boyfriend over a child. Now at EPTC’s side entrance for employees, he jerked open the heavy steel door, stormy gray like his mood. He stalked down the halls, not caring that staff had to scramble out of his way.

  He wanted to get these surgeries over with and end this too-long and terrible day. Get back to his daughter and try to earn the trust that would take all her pain away.

  The second Ian stepped into the operating room, he became all about the medicine. His focus fastened fully on the patient. A patient who deserved a better bedside manner than Ian had displayed walking in here.

  A teen girl with the same color hair as his daughter’s.

  He needed to apologize to his staff and resist making excuses for his bad behavior. Sure, he’d been up all night tending a never-ending stream of traumas. Hard ones. The kind he couldn’t save. But so had they. Friday nights were like that.

  At the operating table, he faced Mitch. “We need to come up with some positive activities for teens around here, bro. Alcohol-infested parties sent way too many of ’em in here last night.” And two of them to their graves prematurely.

  Mitch nodded and began to work on the teen whose face had fractured on impact from projectile wine-cooler bottles last night. Two unbelted passengers had been ejected and pulled massive amounts of water into their lungs when the car skidded into a riverbank.

  Ian fought worrying over Tia and her curiosity, and Bri’s cabin sitting so close to the lake. Ian trusted Bri. He focused on damping down his fear while enabling his patient to breathe. “She owes her life to her seat belt. It’s good she was buckled, but she shouldn’t have had access to alcohol at age sixteen.”

  Mitch nodded. “Agreed.”

  A series of mechanical beeps, shooshes and stainless-steel-on-steel chinks invaded the sterile suite along with silent concentration as the surgery got under way.

  After their successful operation, Ian found Mitch charting at a mahogany desk in the plaid-decor doctors’ lounge. “Did you hear what I said earlier about creating alternatives for teens?”

  Mitch scratched notes on a post-op report and sighed. “I’ll stick it on the list.” Remorse flickered in his eyes. “I hate being so time strapped.” He was getting married in a few months. While Ian was happy for Mitch, attending his wedding was going to be difficult. Especially in light of a divorce Ian had desperately tried to prevent.

  Plus, they were under a ton of pressure to get a second trauma crew selected and trained so the current crew wasn’t so stretched with long hours and lack of sleep. Like last night.

  Poor Tia. He’d had to drag her here. Tia! Ian slammed his watch up. Ten past two. He stood abruptly. “Hey, Mitch, catch you later. Gotta go. I promised Tia I’d try and be back by two.” He sprinted across EPTC’s lot, past Landis Lodge to Bri’s cabin, hoping her quirky bird clock hadn’t squawked, alerting Tia to his lateness.

  Bri met his approach at the deck, finger to her lips. He tripped with a tremendous clatter over a gnome in her yard. Despite winter’s chilly onset, heat blasted his neck.

  After seeing if he was okay, Bri bit back a grin and stood. “Try to be quiet. She’s napping.”

  “Wow. You got her to nap?” He stepped into her cabin to mouthwatering scents of Italian herbs, roasted tomatoes and cheesy pasta. The open-room layout afforded a great view of her forest-critter themed kitchen and stove. His stomach growled, reminding him he’d been too occupied to eat.

  “We hunted fairies all morning.” She motioned him to have a seat and set a tall glass of tea in front of him.

  He sipped, loving the memories it evoked of dinners with family. A scenario Bri probably hadn’t experienced in years. His heart clenched, wondering if it would always be just him and Tia.

  He’d missed family get-togethers while at war. He needed to carve out time to take Tia to visit his mom. She’d like Bri. Ian ripped his gaze from whatever culinary goodness bubbled in that pan, and the ridiculous notion that Bri would ever meet his mom.

  Bri watched him. Too carefully. “Would you and Tia like to have dinner with me?”

  He rubbed the condensation on his glass. “I guess we could.” His stomach rumbled intense gratitude. “What time?”

  “How does five sound?”

  “Great, actually. That’ll give me a couple hours to wrangle the cabin that bucked you off its roof.” He smirked and reached for a washed cherry tomato she’d put in a bowl. The second he popped it in his mouth, his tongue cheered. “I’m kinda hungry.”

  “I kinda noticed.” Bri grinned. “We’ll see you at five.”

  Ian jogged past the trauma lot to Lakeview Road, where his yard sat two houses away from EPTC. He loaded work stuff in his truck and drove to Bri’s, not wanting Tia to have to trek home in the dark. Once there, he attacked cabin renovations with fervor.

  A little over two hours later, his cell rang. “Hey, Bri.”

  “Hi. Wanted to let you know dinner’s almost ready. Also, Tia’s still sleeping. She’s not feverish, so I don’t think she’s ill. But I wasn’t sure how long you wanted her to nap. Any longer and she’s liable not to sleep well tonight.”

  If he got called in again, Tia wouldn’t sleep well, anyway. “Go ahead and let her sleep. I’ll grab a shower and be over.”

  Her hesitation jabbed him. He needed more regular hours, but that couldn’t happen until they got a second trauma crew trained. Ian sprinted home, showered and walked back to Bri’s. The second she let him in, his taste buds watered in anticipation. “It smells amazing.”

  So did she, as she leaned close to him to refresh his glass. “Vanilla?”

  Her eyes rose. “No, just plain old tea.”

  “I meant your perfume. It’s nice. So is the tea.” He inhaled the iced tea in two gulps. “Iced, even in winter?” he added since she shifted uncomfortably under his compliment. Best to keep things casual. Not personal.

  “It’s Southern Illinois. People sit in hot tubs and drink sweet iced tea all year round, even on cool nights.”

  “I can believe that.” He stretched his back and arms.

  Her gaze skittered over him, then quickly away, eyes like a feather across his skin. She pulled out burgundy-cushioned bar stools at the kitchen counter dividing a warm-umber dining room from the canary-yellow kitchen. Her color choices were like the varying levels of her personality: shy but strong, bright and stark, each wall painted a different vivid, modern color.

  Unlike his walls, which were a mix of muted, neutral, dark and subdued, which matched his personality right now.

  For a brief second, Ian wished Bri knew the humorous, lighthearted, fun-loving guy he used to be. Then his marriage had imploded. Life would never be the same and he’d likely never be that guy again. Her words drifted back: That guy? I hope he sticks around. For the first time in a long time, Ian did, too.

  But workload, stress and the pain of divorce didn’t promise to let up anytime soon, so it was doubtful.

  Bri motioned him to a stool, then sat on one herself.

  He eased onto the end stool, leaving two comfortably between them. He enjoyed the break on his feet. He’d been on them nearly twenty-six hours now. “Find any fairies today?”

  She chuckled, lowering her gaze. Her lashes brushed the high slope of her cheek. “No, but the troll you tripped so gracefully over has been assigned by Tia to scout the yard for them.”

  “I see. I’m not surprised Tia napped, actually. I had to drag her out of bed twice to bring her to the trauma center.”

  She shifted thoughtfully. “How come? Did you get called in on a case or something?” She swiped a bead of tea off her lip.

  He averted his gaze. “Yeah. Twice.” He should reassure her Tia
hadn’t been unattended. Passed around amid nurses, yes. Left alone for one minute, no. “Staff took turns watching her.”

  She adjusted her arm sling. “That won’t work long-term.”

  Ian nodded, feeling fortunate to have Bri babysitting. She cared. “At least Tia’s not being shuffled around during the daytime, thanks to you.” Still, no wonder Tia’s moodiness had escalated this morning. She hadn’t had proper sleep. Bri was right. It couldn’t last. He was her only parent now. “I need to establish a routine and propagate proper sleep.”

  A smile touched Bri’s lips.

  “At least that’s what that bossy parenting book said.”

  That made her laugh. He was glad. More than he should be.

  He forced the smile back down. “I’d like to tell the book’s know-it-all author his ridiculous creative parenting ideas are easier said than done for time-strapped single parents in survival mode.”

  She rubbed her arm above the cast. “What creative ideas?”

  “Silly stuff, like making Christmas trees with stacked star cookies and caterpillars out of cupcakes and—”

  She jerked. Eyes darted to the counter behind him. He turned, peering at the artistic culinary creations, including none other than a caterpillar cupcake.

  He looked at Bri. Face down, she rubbed her arm again. Two things greatly concerned him. One, she seemed fearful he’d ridicule her for the cutesy cupcakes she and Tia had created. Second, she couldn’t seem to leave her arm alone.

  “You keeping up with your pain meds, Bri?”

  Her eyes veered even farther away. Yet the stubbornness befell her that Caleb had warned him about. “As much as possible. I don’t want to risk falling asleep with Tia here.”

  “Aw, Bri. I considered that. You need—”

  Her head shook. “No. I’m tough. I can take a little pain.”

  She might have convinced him had the hollowness not haunted her eyes. She rose swiftly and went to work at the stove.

  Ian followed, grabbing salad ingredients. “You okay?”

  She shrugged. “I’m worried about Caleb. He hasn’t called.”

  Ian froze, knife midslice in a cucumber. Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard from Caleb, either. Not since the day of Bri’s surgery. “I’ll call him. Find out what’s going on.”

  Bri added carrots to the lettuce Ian tossed. “No, let me. I’m afraid if you call him, you’ll tell him about my injury.”

  * * *

  Bri grew alarmed when Ian tensed. “He doesn’t know, right?”

  Tia must’ve woke because she shuffled in the next room. “Yes! I’m sure of it, Boom. They got hillbilly fairies in this here forest. And it’s not only haunted with fairy-eating trolls, it’s naked. All the PJs blew to the ground, Boom.”

  Ian and Bri turned. Tia walked circles, play phone to her bed-head ear. Naked? The fairies or the forest? Bri wondered.

  “How odd,” Ian said, watching Tia wear tracks on the wood parquet floor Bri had installed last week. At least she’d gotten her cabin renovated before falling, thus had a decent place to live.

  “What’s odd? Boom? He’s Tia’s imaginary friend.”

  He scowled. “She’s my daughter. I am well acquainted with Boom, the infamous scapegoat for Tia’s messy room. I meant odd in the sense that I pace like that when I’m on my cell phone.”

  Bri felt like laughing at the fact that Ian didn’t seem the least bit alarmed by Tia’s talk of ill-attired fairies, fallen PJs or cannibalistic trolls. Yet at the same time, Bri’s ire rose at being scolded over explaining who Boom was.

  She drew a deep breath to calm down. “I noticed her pacing. And you never answered my question about Caleb.”

  His eyes flicked to her with annoyance before returning to rest on Tia. The look of wounded nostalgia entering his eyes caused Bri to stop pressing the Caleb issue. For now.

  Ian might be standing here now but his mind was a world away. He watched Tia with a mix of regret and awe as she paced like he did. “I wonder what else she acquired from me,” he said, confirming Bri’s hunch.

  “She definitely acquired your beastly moods and appetite.”

  Before Ian could utter a retort, Bri stepped out of his line of fire. “Tia, wash your hands. Dinner’s ready.” Bri went to pull garlic bread from the oven.

  Ian blocked her. “Let me.” He eyed her casted arm. “You could get burned.” His gaze bore down on her, squelching any protest. Burned? Felt as if she already was.

  He neared to help set the table. “You need to trust me.”

  She whirled. “About my arm? Or Caleb?”

  A muscle clicked in his jaw. “Both.”

  “I’m sorry, Ian. I hate not knowing if he’ll be okay and I hate being in the humbling position of needing help.” Bri clenched her teeth against urges to confront more about Caleb.

  Both men being tight-lipped could mean Caleb was about to embark on a mission of danger she’d be better off oblivious to. “FYI, Tia also acquired your rude penchant toward ignoring, hedging and projecting in order to protect your secrets.”

  Tia “hung up” her play phone and skipped into the kitchen, unaware of her dad’s gaping mouth. Well, what did he expect? He’d been harsh with his words and truth, too.

  They sat at the big, rustic wood table that had been Mom’s. Despite the tension, dinner started out light and fun and lively but ended subdued with Ian growing more withdrawn and sullen. So much so, Bri jumped when her wall screeched like a pterodactyl.

  Humor hit Ian’s eyes as he studied her, then the bird clock above the fireplace mantel that held copious pictures of Caleb.

  “Stupid clock. It’s too loud. Caleb got it for me for Christmas last year as a source of torment. I can’t get rid of the obnoxious thing, because despite its screeching bird sounds, it’s sentimental.”

  Ian almost smiled. “Hard to believe Christmas is three days away. What are your plans?”

  She shrugged. “Probably eat a frozen turkey dinner and watch Hallmark movies.”

  “I’ve had no time for TV lately.”

  His eyes veered toward Tia, their color deepening to a dark blue, like a stormy sky. “A teen girl almost perished last night. She looked like I’d imagine Tia will in ten years. Identical hair, down to the natural ringlet curls.”

  “I bet that was hard,” Bri said.

  The vulnerable look entering his eyes next caught her completely off guard. He rose and brushed aside Bri’s ruffled maroon curtains. Thoughtfully eyed the main lodge through Bri’s big side window. “Do you have plans for the big lodge?”

  She joined him at the window. “Yeah. Mom’s dreams.”

  He faced her, his expression softening to a point that she had to look away. She felt too vulnerable otherwise. “Mom would hold sewing, cooking and quilting classes for her church ladies. She wanted to open it up to the community. She died before her dreams came true.” Bri shrugged the chill away.

  Ian eyed her shoulders, then moved toward her but stopped.

  Had he been about to come behind her and rub her arms?

  “I have an idea, if you want to hear it,” he said.

  Bri laughed. “Since when do you ever ask permission to share your opinion or waylay anyone daring to disagree with it?”

  He smirked. “Point taken. The accident was fatal for two other teens. Alcohol was a factor. That lodge would be a very cool hangout for teens. You should consider letting me and Mitch fix it up as such once he gets some time.”

  “It would give them something safe to do. There’s a big area downstairs that would be perfect for pool tables, a digital arcade, even laser tag. I could use the upstairs rooms for corporate events and meetings.”

  “And those classes your mom started.” Ian smiled kindly.

  “It’s a great id
ea, Ian. But I’d be remiss to let you and Mitch do it. You’re already renovating my cabins. I saw where you’d cleared the ivy away and replaced the gutters. Thanks.”

  He nodded. “You’re helping me in a big way, too. With Tia.”

  Bri peered once more at the lodge. Longing took root. “I’d hate to infringe on your time like that.”

  “There’s nothing more important to me than saving lives, Bri.” He cast a glance over at Tia. “She’ll be a teen someday.”

  Bri caught the fear in his words. “Trust God, Ian.”

  He faced her. “I did. Once. My marriage crumbled, anyway. I lost my wife long before the divorce, Bri. She bailed when I gave my life to God and she didn’t want to.”

  “I’m sorry, Ian. That must have been hard—”

  “Boom wants in on the sherbet,” Tia announced loudly from the puppet box she’d dived into after dinner.

  Ian approached and picked up a fox puppet. “Tell Boom if he can eat sherbet, he can help clean Tia’s room.”

  Tia’s face popped out of the puppet stage curtain. She pointed sideways. “He’s right here.” Tia glared at her dad. “Tell him yourself, Mister Meanie Fox who takes baby rabbits away from their mothers.”

  Tia wore bunny ears and a matching cottontail.

  Ian’s jaw clenched.

  Bri didn’t miss the pain Tia’s words had lashed across his eyes. Bri tensed like a witness to a car wreck.

  Flashes of Eric’s rage at his nephew spilling a shake in his Corvette came to mind. Then how her ex had railed her all the way to the car wash for “stupidly inviting the kid along.”

  But Ian didn’t blow. He calmly pulled the fox puppet off his arm. Set it in the box. Knelt face-to-face with his daughter. Love never left his eyes. “Tia, I know it’s hard when things change and we don’t want them to. But that doesn’t mean we can leave someone’s home a mess.”

  “Ours could sparkle clean and it would still be a mess. You don’t do anything right. Not bedtime stories or bath time or eggs or Christmastime or nothing! Especially your icky eggs! And your animal pancakes are stupid! They don’t look like air force aardvark fairies at all!”