The Army Doctor's Wedding

by Helen Scott Taylor

  The Army Doctor's Wedding

  By

  Helen Scott Taylor

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  Copyright © 2013 Helen Taylor

  Cover design © Helen Taylor

  *

  The right of Helen Taylor to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the Copyright owner.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Mona Risk, my excellent critique partner, who has been with me through thick and thin since the start, to my son Peter Taylor for his skill creating book covers, and last but not least, to my trusty editor Pam Berehulke for her sharp eye and good commonsense suggestions.

  Chapter One

  Alice Conway stumbled across the arid, rocky ground, a precious newborn baby clutched to her chest. The rattle of gunfire sounded behind her, each shot searing along her nerves. The three African women with her held their children in their arms, still running fast. Alice couldn't keep up with them for much longer. Her legs felt so weary, the muscles weak and aching, her feet sore.

  She glanced over her shoulder as a rebel jeep crested the hill behind, about two hundred yards back. Pure terror streaked through her. Her little group of survivors was nowhere near the refugee camp yet. She would not get these women and children to safety in time. They would all be mown down in a hail of bullets like the rest of the villagers.

  Her breath sawed in and out, so loud in her ears that it took her a few moments to notice the rhythmic beat of a helicopter approaching. She blinked away dust and sweat and realized there were two helicopters coming from the direction of the refugee camp. Were they friendly?

  If they were government troops, they were likely to fire on the rebels and cut down the women and children in the crossfire. Neither side fighting over this war-torn country cared about the safety of civilians. If the vulnerable died they were just collateral damage, or worse still they were raped and murdered to spread terror. The charity Alice worked for did its best to help the women and children, but it was like trying to hold back a tide of hatred.

  The smaller helicopter drew level. Alice's heart leaped with hope at the NATO logo on the side. The rebel jeeps sped up behind them, bullets thudding into the ground all around. NATO soldiers returned fire. The other helicopter hovered, preparing to land fifty yards ahead.

  An almighty bang sounded behind. Heat and dirt blasted in all directions. Spatters of burning fuel showered the area, setting the small dry bushes on fire. One of the jeeps must have exploded. Alice ducked her head and hugged the tiny baby, running faster.

  A stab of hot pain jabbed her calf. She stumbled, tried to right herself, but knew she was going down. She threw out an arm to save herself and angled her body to protect the baby.

  ***

  Poised at the door of the Merlin helicopter, ready to jump out, Maj. Cameron Knight recoiled at the thunderous sound as a shell hit a rebel jeep. With a fiery flash and burst of black smoke it exploded. His gaze jumped back to the women and children. The three native women had cowered, huddling together. He couldn't tell if they were injured, but the blonde woman had gone down.

  Cameron shifted his boots on the metal rim of the door, his gaze darting from the ground to the downed woman. His fingers flexed on the strap that held his medical kit on his back, eager to be down there.

  "Wait, Major." The voice of the captain in charge of the unit shouted over the noise.

  Cameron outranked him but as a doctor his rank was meaningless in combat situations. He was supposed to do what he was told. Nevertheless, he'd learned a long time ago that the British army cut doctors a lot of slack, and he took every inch he could get. He was here to offer front-line medical care, life-saving resuscitation, and damage-control treatment in combat situations. He did what needed to be done even if it was dangerous.

  The second the chopper touched down, Cameron leaped out and dashed towards the casualty. She hadn't moved since she fell. If she'd taken a bullet she might be bleeding out. There was no time to waste. With a curse, the captain sent two soldiers out to protect him.

  Doctors weren't supposed to be in the line of fire but the fact Cameron didn't carry a gun was irrelevant. He needed to be out here where the wounded were.

  He slid to his knees beside the woman, a gun discharging over his head. He tuned out the metallic rattle and concentrated on the patient.

  She groaned as he gently rolled her over. Her eyelashes fluttered, revealing blue eyes. "The baby," she whispered, trying to move the arm she had fallen on. She winced in pain and Cameron realized she had a cloth-wrapped bundle inside her jacket. He pushed aside the fabric to reveal the head of a tiny newborn. The infant had a unilateral cleft lip. Something to be checked when they got back to base.

  "Major Knight, there are more rebels coming. You need to get the woman in the helicopter," the captain shouted.

  Gesturing his acknowledgment, he examined her quickly. Blood covered her lower leg, but it was only a flesh wound. With a bloodied nose and bruised cheek, she'd probably have a couple of black eyes—but it was her arm that worried him most. It lay at a strange angle, almost certainly broken in a couple of places.

  The baby's vitals should be checked, but that would have to wait until they were in the helicopter. Not that he could do much for the child if it were distressed. He certainly wasn't a neonatologist, and he didn't have the equipment to treat a newborn.

  He signaled to his combat medical technician, who ran over with a stretcher. They lifted the woman on and carried her back to the helicopter.

  Cameron tried to take the tightly wrapped baby from her good arm, but she hung on. "No."

  "I need to examine him. The baby will be safe. You can still see the little guy."

  "Okay." She released the infant.

  Cameron unfolded the bright red and yellow fabric from the tiny body, noting the tied-off umbilical cord, which should be dealt with. Tension gripped him while he completed his visual check. The child had not sustained an injury. He released a breath and took the baby's temperature and pulse.

  "He seems fine." Cameron settled the boy in a secure pouch beneath a seat. They weren't outfitted with transport cribs.

  He turned his attention back to the woman. "I'm Major Knight, a doctor with the British army."

  From the few words she'd spoken he thought she had a British accent, but he wasn't certain. He recognized the logo on her jacket, a hand cradling a baby. It was a charity caring for women and children in conflict zones. "What's your name?" he asked gently as the helicopter rose into the air.

  "Alice Conway. How are the others?" Raising her head, she tried to see. Cameron glanced over his shoulder to where the medical technician was checking the African women. They squatted in a group, their children tight to their sides. Their suspicious dark eyes fixed on the soldiers distrustfully. It was little wonder considering the way they were used to being treated.

  Cameron pressed his lips together with a burst of frustration over how powerless the British army was to really make a difference here. As soon as NATO pulled out, everything would go back to how it was before. But now wasn't the time to say such a thing. He returned his attention to Alice and forced a smile. "
They're safe." For now.

  Alice relaxed and her eyelids fluttered as she fought to stay awake. "My arm hurts."

  "I'm afraid it's broken, but we'll fix you up at the military field hospital."

  "My leg burns as well."

  "That's nothing to worry about. Just a flesh wound. I'll dress it in a moment. Let's make your arm more comfortable first."

  The baby let out a thin, urgent wail. Alice reached out her good arm and touched the tiny bundle. "It's all right, sweetheart. I'm here."

  Whether the baby responded to her or it was just coincidence, Cameron didn't know, but the child quieted.

  "He must be hungry," Alice said. "He was born about three hours ago and he hasn't been fed yet. I gave him a few drops of water on my finger but that's all I could do." A sigh whispered between her lips and her eyelids fell.

  "I'll have him checked over by someone with more experience in pediatrics when we get to the hospital." Cameron stroked the sweaty blonde bangs off her forehead. He had an overwhelming urge to touch her, comfort her.

  She shifted her position and a moan slipped between her lips.

  "Your arm?"

  "Yep."

  "I'll give you a shot for the pain and strap it up."

  ***

  It was so good to be safe, to be lying down with someone taking care of her. The doctor cut away the sleeve of her jacket to expose her arm. He retrieved a small glass ampoule from his pack and held it upside down before jabbing the syringe needle in and drawing out the liquid.

  She closed her eyes as he gave her the shot, willing it to take effect. Her arm ached like crazy. Every time she moved, pain shot into her shoulder and down her body. The throb in her head and sting of her lower leg were nothing in comparison.

  "We'll give that a few minutes to take effect before we move your arm."

  Alice opened her eyes to find the doctor leaning over her. His fingers gently probed the bridge of her nose and beneath her eye.

  His eyes were dark brown and gentle. A man who did his job must be kind and compassionate. His gaze moved to hers. A smile curved his lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes. "The good news is there're no bones broken in your face. You'll look like you've gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson, though."

  She smiled in response, despite her pain. "What did you say your name was?"

  "Major Knight." He leaned a little closer. "As you're a civilian, you can call me Cameron if you like."

  Alice reached a hand towards the baby again and stroked the little cloth-wrapped bundle, hoping her touch let the tiny boy know he was safe. Just the thought of what the villagers would have done with him made her eyes tear up. All because the poor little guy had a cleft lip.

  Cameron moved to work on her leg. Alice closed her eyes and drifted. She was so exhausted; she struggled to stay awake. She and the women from the village had run for three hours, driven by fear to reach the refugee camp on the outskirts of Rejerrah before the rebels found them.

  The sound of the soldiers' voices merged with the noise of the helicopter engine and the floor vibrated against her back. Strange smells assailed her: the metallic stink of oil, the tang of antiseptic. Something cold rubbed over her leg. It stung, then paper ripped and a soft dressing pressed onto the wound.

  Cameron touched her shoulder. "Are you okay, Alice?"

  "Just dopey."

  "Nothing to worry about. The analgesic has a mild sedative effect. Your leg wound is only minor. I suspect a stone or piece of debris hit you when the jeep exploded."

  He pulled a blue sling out of his pack and unfolded the straps. "This is going to hurt a little, but your arm will be more comfortable once we have it supported."

  Alice gritted her teeth against the jab of pain as Cameron gently moved her arm, folding the forearm against her chest before securing it in the sling. After fastening it, he touched a hand to her cheek. "There you go. That will keep it still until we reach the field hospital and set it properly."

  "Will you do that?"

  "I can if you like."

  "Yes, please."

  Alice didn't like men much. She'd seen enough evidence that they weren't to be trusted. Not just here, in the conflict zone, but back in Britain as well. Yet she did trust Cameron. There was something about him that made her feel safe. Maybe the red cross on his jacket sleeve, or maybe his caring smile, or the way he handled her so gently.

  ***

  The tension eased from Cameron's shoulders. It looked like there was nothing seriously wrong with Alice. In a few weeks the minor injuries would have healed. By six weeks the broken arm would be mended as well.

  Lifting the tiny baby, he settled him in the crook of Alice's good arm. Despite the ordeal the infant had suffered in its first few hours of life, its pulse was strong and its temperature normal. Some people were survivors and this baby seemed to be one of them.

  With a smile, she kissed the baby's head. "You're such a good boy, aren't you, sweetie?"

  She seemed very attached to the child considering he was only a few hours old and obviously not hers. How had she come to have him? From what he'd seen, she had fallen hard because she tried to protect the baby. That was why she'd hurt her arm. She'd protected the child at her own expense.

  He glanced at the small blonde woman with respect. He did his bit to help the locals if they were sick or injured but he operated under the protection of the military. Charity workers like Alice had no such protection. Their charity status did not always shield them from violence.

  "The baby's cleft lip can be repaired, can't it?" she asked, a note of concern in her voice.

  Cameron poked his little finger in the child's mouth and explored the soft palate. "I can't feel a gap in the roof of the mouth. If it's only the lip involved, then the surgery is straightforward. You will need a plastic surgeon for it, though."

  "ETA five minutes, Major," the captain said.

  "Understood."

  He fastened straps around Alice to secure her. "Hold the baby tight. We'll take you both in together on the stretcher."

  "Where are we landing?" she asked.

  "The military base at Rejerrah. You and this little guy will be admitted to the field hospital. I'm afraid the three women and their children will have to go to the refugee camp. At least they will have food and shelter and a measure of protection."

  "As long as they're safe." Alice hugged the tiny boy and settled back on the stretcher as the helicopter landed.

  The medical technician took one end of the stretcher and another soldier on the team took the other.

  "Ready," Cameron said, touching the back of Alice's uninjured hand.

  "Yes. I want to get myself sorted out quickly so I can look after the baby." She gripped Cameron's hand, and he met her determined blue gaze. "You will help me get the best care for him, won't you?"

  "Of course."

  "Promise?"

  Cameron was taken aback. Patients didn't usually question his dedication to the job. Yet he could understand her being concerned for the baby.

  "I promise I'll do whatever I can to ensure the little guy gets top-notch treatment."

  Chapter Two

  The hollow footsteps of army boots on the cement floor echoed as two soldiers wheeled Alice down a hallway on a gurney. Bundles of cables and pipes ran along the ceiling and harsh neon lights spaced down the corridor lit the way.

  The field hospital did not feel welcoming. Alice hugged the baby closer and glanced back to check if Cameron was still with them. Her breath hissed out in relief at the sight of him a few steps behind, writing on a clipboard.

  They turned into a room containing a bed, a small table, and a plastic chair. One high window allowed a weak beam of light to filter into the room. The army medical technicians lifted her across to the bed and left with the gurney. A nurse in army uniform came in with Cameron.

  "This is Acting Corporal Lane," he said. "She's going to prepare you for surgery." He came closer and moved the fabric away from the baby's face. "How
's the little guy doing?"

  "He's been wiggling a lot more since we arrived." At that moment the baby let out a mewling cry.

  "Sounds hungry to me," Cameron said.

  Alice wondered how much experience he had with tiny babies, but now wasn't the time to start asking questions like that.

  A pretty redheaded nurse came in, a smile lighting her face as she set eyes on the baby. "Oh, he's adorable. May I take him?" When Alice nodded, the nurse lifted the infant into her arms and cradled him. "Thank you for paging me, Major. You've made my day."

  Cameron moved to the nurse's side and joined her in examining the baby. "As soon as we arrived I thought of you." They shared an intimate look and Alice pinched her lips together. Were they a couple? Surely the army didn't allow officers who served together to date. And what business was it of hers, anyway?

  "He's a few hours old and hasn't been fed yet," Cameron said.

  "Does he have a name? I'll register him in the system, examine him, and do all that's necessary to make him comfortable."

  "His mother died before she named him," Alice said. "His father was called Sami. He died when the rebels attacked the village. Maybe we could name the baby after him?"

  The nurse nodded and turned to the door.

  "Bring him back when you're done," Alice blurted.

  The nurse paused, her questioning gaze jumping from Alice to Cameron.

  Cameron simply nodded.

  The nurse left. Alice bit her lip, anxious now the baby had been taken. If he ended up being handed back to the locals, she feared for his safety. Because of his disfigurement, his people thought he was cursed and would have left him to die. Granted, the city dwellers probably had different customs than the nomadic people who lived in the desert, but if he was sent to an orphanage, anything could happen to him. She felt personally responsible for the poor little thing as she'd helped bring him into the world.

  Cameron's hand settled gently on her good arm. "Lieutenant Grace will take good care of him. She worked as a pediatric nurse before she joined the army, so she has lots of experience with babies." He stepped back with a smile. "I'll leave you in the capable hands of Acting Corporal Lane while I clean up. See you in the OR."