Ron wended his way through the corridor to the parlor-surgical suite, Doris by his side. She walked to the corner of the room where a sink had been installed after the Medical Corps arrived. Wasn’t confidence necessary in medicine? Doctors, especially surgeons, can’t waffle on their decisions. Insecure physicians make mistakes, and errors are unacceptable.
She hunched over the basin scrubbing her hands and arms up to her elbows. Sharp as a tack, she questioned his motives, had strong opinions that opposed his own, and her behavior turned societal expectations upside down. Definitely not what the doctor ordered.
He waited until she was finished before washing his own hands then jerked his head toward the nearest gurney that held a patient. An anesthesiologist sat at the man’s head and had already rendered the man unconscious. A nurse hurried to them and pulled their white cotton surgical masks over their nose and mouth.
Doris’s eyebrows almost reached her hairline, and her eyes darted from the patient to the tray of gleaming instruments then to his face.
“Relax. Look at me.” He waited until her gaze came to rest on his face. “Excellent. An operating room can get noisy, but I’m the only thing you should focus on. Try to tune out everything but this space that is your whole world right now. I will point to each item as I need it. Your job is to pick up whatever I’ve indicated with haste and slap it into my palm. Clear?”
Mute, she nodded, eyes glistening.
The poor woman was obviously terrified, yet she remained at his side, ready to assist. Not all nurses were cut out to be in the OR, and Doris hadn’t signed up for this. She had pluck. He’d give her that.
A glance from the anesthesiologist told him the patient was ready. With his gloved pinky finger, he pointed to the scalpel. “Scalpel.”
Doris fumbled the metal lancet, dropping it onto the floor with a clatter. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re fine. We have plenty. Try again with the one that was next to it.”
She nodded and picked up the second scalpel then slapped it into his palm.
Hand stinging from the force of the blow, his fingers wrapped around the handle. He cut into the patient’s leg, and Doris gasped. She swayed, nearly bumping his shoulder. Was he going to lose her before the procedure?
“Doris?”
“Fine. I’m fine.” She took a deep breath, her mask buckling. She straightened her spine and met his gaze. “I promise.”
“Good girl.”
Incisions made, he held out his hand. “Clamp. And go easy on me.”
“Clamp.” She pressed the instrument into his palm and grinned. “Was that better?”
“Much. Can’t injure the surgeon now, can we?”
She giggled, and he smiled. Her shoulders were no longer hiked up to her ears. Perhaps, she was beginning to calm down.
Hours passed, and he lost track of the time. Victim after victim was placed in front of him until the bodies blurred into one. Doris never flagged in her assistance, although as the day wore on, lines appeared on her face, and her back began to curve. Exhaustion was obvious with her every movement.
A pair of orderlies whisked away the latest soldier, and he looked toward the vacant doorway. Sister Greene leaned against the frame. “That was the last of them.”
With a sigh, he massaged his neck, muscles stiff and unbending. Stripping off his gloves, he tossed them onto the tray of instruments. “Congratulations, Miss Strealer, you survived your first fourteen-hour surgical shift. Well done.”
Doris tugged off her mask, and a wan smile barely lifted her lips. “Thank you, sir.” She began to untie the straps on the gown covering her uniform, then her eyes rolled up, and her body wilted.
He caught her before she hit the floor and lifted her in his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder, and she moaned. His heart clenched. He yanked off the sheets from the nearest table and laid her down. “What’s wrong with her? She gave no indication of being ill.”
Sister Greene chuckled. “Nothing a bit of sleep won’t cure, and if you weren’t so enamored with the girl, you’d have pronounced the same diagnosis. She’s been awake for thirty hours, maybe more. Before being your girl Friday, she worked a full shift in the motor pool.”
“She didn’t tell me.” He scrubbed at his face with clammy fingers. He’d ignore the nurse’s comment about his infatuation. “I didn’t know.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. Many times, staff have worked around the clock. This won’t be the first nor the last time she will pull a long day.”
He studied Doris’s face. “She may also be dehydrated. Please set her up with intravenous fluids. One bag to start. I’ll stop by to check on her.”
“Yes, sir.”
Footsteps faded, and he was alone. He sagged against the table and bowed his head. “Lord, please take care of our girl. Thank you for her steadfast support tonight. I don’t deserve her loyalty, not with the way I’ve treated her. Forgive me, Father, and give her a nudge to forgive me as well.”
Ron rubbed at his chest, tight with anxiety. He’d made a fool of himself in front of Sister Greene. Unconscionable. He wouldn’t let that happen again.
Chapter Eight
Doris yawned, and her jaw popped. She rubbed her eyes and wandered toward the small pond visible at the edge of the woods. She’d awakened to find herself in one of the hospital beds, blankets tucked to her chin, a gown in place of her soiled uniform. According to Sister Greene, she’d fainted moments after the last surgery was finished then slept around the clock. So much for her stellar career as an OR nurse.
Her face flamed, and she picked up her pace. Fortunately, today was her regularly scheduled day off, so she’d fled the building as soon as one of the junior cadet nurses brought her a change of clothes. She fingered the envelope in her pocket that contained letters from her parents and her sister Cora. The big news in both was her sister Emily’s wedding announcement.
She’d found the man of her dreams somewhere in Europe during some sort of hush-hush assignment, and they’d married. Her new husband was American, but because of the nature of her employment, Emily couldn’t share more information. Wait until the family heard about Ron being here. They’d traveled over three thousand miles to run into each other.
Sunshine warmed her back as she approached the small body of water. A wooden bench on the berm at the pond’s edge invited her to sit and enjoy the view. Cloudless, the sky was robin’s-egg blue. The breeze carried a sweet aroma from the field of wildflowers. War seemed nonexistent on a day like this.
Her parent’s letter was chatty and contained the local gossip of their tiny town. Scrap drives, bond rallies, and bandage-rolling parties drew the residents together in a common cause. The casualty list was short but depressing nonetheless. Boys who would never grow to be men, and families who would be forever impacted by the loss.
Were Mom and Dad happy they’d been blessed with daughters rather than sons? That their children would never see combat? Granted, they’d lost Cora’s husband at Pearl, but the family had only met him a few times. She barely remembered what he looked like. Her grief was more for Cora. Doris and Emily may not bear arms, but their presence in England brought a danger all its own. Did Emily worry about losing her new husband?
She shook her head to dispel the morbid thoughts. Better to think about the blessings. A job she loved and working with people she enjoyed. An education she could never experience in college, and a chance to visit places she might never have seen. In many ways, England looked like home, but the birds she caught sight of during her travels were unfamiliar.
How much longer would the war last? Reports of the Allies' success in Italy excited everyone, and word was that a surrender might occur by late summer. However, Mussolini and his countrymen were only a fraction of the evils, with Hitler remaining the biggest obstacle, although Cora might disagree. Japan killed her husband. How many more Americans would die at the hands of the emperor? Would Cora find anothe
r man to love her?
What about herself?
Ron’s image invaded her thoughts, and she smiled. Assisting him in surgery had been thrilling and fulfilling. Well, as long as she didn’t look at the patient during the procedure. She’d almost lost her lunch with his first incision. Even now, the memory created waves of nausea. She swallowed and raked her fingers through her hair.
Better to think about how kind he’d been when she’d made mistakes while handing him instruments. The man performed intricate, lifesaving procedures, and she was all thumbs. Good thing she worked on cars instead of people. Engine emergencies weren’t life threatening.
He hadn’t treated her like an equal, but he’d been respectful. And gone above and beyond the call of duty when he carried her to the hospital bed, according to Sister Green. Her face warmed. He must be strong as an ox to lift someone of her height and weight. The nurse also said he’d sat by her bed long into the night.
Was his interest purely professional, or did he feel the same tingles she did when they touched? Why did her heart not realize a relationship was neither possible nor practical? A mechanic and a doctor? A frog and a horse had more in common than she did with Ron.
Ron was a highly educated, skilled physician. She’d barely made it through a year of college, and she tinkered on cars. His misogynistic behaviors had faded for the most part, but he would probably never allow a wife to work outside the home, especially in a garage full of men. He’d want her at home having babies and cooking dinner, waiting for his return with his pipe and slippers. She frowned. Life would be easier if she remained single. God wouldn’t saddle some poor guy with the likes of her. The sooner she got used to that idea, the better.
j
Hands stuffed into his pockets, Ron sauntered along the gravel path that curved through the estate’s property. A slight breeze caressed his sun-warmed cheeks as clouds scudded overhead in the azure sky. Squirrels chattered among the grove of trees that separated the main house from the servants' quarters and outbuildings.
He’d finished his rounds and reports, and the walls of the stately home had become oppressive, so he’d escaped to the outdoors in an effort to clear his head. The opportunity to direct the activities of the hospital seemed exciting at the onset, but the volume of required paperwork put a damper on his enthusiasm. Surgery was his gift, not pushing a pencil, however, the job would look good on his résumé for when the war finally ceased.
Sunlight glinted off the surface of the pond at the edge of the property. He wasn’t a fisherman, but perhaps circling the small body of water would give his mind something to do other than fret about patients, staff, and administrative activities. He shaded his eyes with his hand and squinted. Someone sat, head bowed, on the bench near the shore. The individual moved, and he sucked in a breath.
Doris.
His footsteps halted. Should he give her privacy? He surveyed the expansive property. Was there somewhere else he could find solace from the chaos? His gaze swung back to her, and she lifted her hand in greeting. His heart picked up speed. She seemed to want his company. With a smile, he hurried the rest of the way to the idyllic spot.
She rose as he approached, her eyes sparkling, but her appearance tentative. “Is something wrong with one of the vehicles? I can be suited up in short order to get cracking on the problem.”
“No.” He held up one hand. “There are no problems. I needed a break, and this corner of heaven is my favorite place to hide when I need to get away from responsibilities. I see you have discovered its healing properties as well.” He gestured to the bench, and they sat. “Are you feeling better? Your color is good, and there are no shadows beneath your eyes.”
“Much better.” She laced her fingers together. “Albeit embarrassed that I passed out. I’ve never been one to faint.”
“They were extenuating circumstances. Sister Greene indicated you’d been awake more than thirty hours. A body can only take so much before it must shut down.”
A smirk creased her face. “At least I didn’t go down during surgery. That would have put a damper on the proceedings.”
“Without a doubt.” He snickered and stretched out his legs. “Seriously, I do appreciate your help. Two of the nurses are still ill, and two more are showing early symptoms, so we’ve had to take them out of the rotation.”
Doris blanched. “You’re not going to ask me to fill in again, are you?”
“I’ve requested temporary help from London. You should be in the clear.”
She swiped her hand across her forehead and grinned. “Whew! Close one.”
He looked down his nose in mock sternness. “This time.”
“Yeah, I think I’ve got an engine to maintain somewhere.” She cocked her head and blew out a breath. “Did you ever think you’d been halfway around the globe treating patients in a castle?”
“Technically, the estate isn’t a castle, but the house is certainly the biggest home I’ve ever seen. Bigger than even old Mr. Ellis’s mansion.”
“His house is a monstrosity. I’d forgotten about that place. He would yell at us kids if we made too much noise walking past on the way home from school. At the time, he scared me, but now I wonder if he was lonely or sick. Otherwise, why would he be mean to children?”
“You’ve got a good heart, Doris. Don’t take this as denigrating your current vocation, your compassion would make you a marvelous nurse. Well, except for the possibility of keeling over at the sight of blood.”
“Hey, that was only at first. I held my own, thank you very much.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.” She giggled, and her cheeks bloomed with color. “To have graduated from Dartmouth and Johns Hopkins, you must be very smart. You’ve seen lots of nurses during your career.”
A stone caught his attention, and he bent to pick it up. Smooth and flat, the pebble was perfect for skipping. He stood and flung the rock, and it bounced three times along the surface of the water. Movement sounded behind him, and he whirled. Doris whipped her arm toward the pond and grinned in satisfaction. He turned back to the pond as her stone hopped four times then disappeared below the surface.
She gave him a saucy smile then danced a jig around the bench.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is everything a competition with you?”
“This coming from the guy who tried to win every award in high school? You’re sore because I beat you.”
“Okay, best out of three.”
“Let me guess, you want to start over.”
“That would only be fair.”
Doris shrugged and walked to the edge of the pond. She rummaged on the ground until she found three pebbles.
He followed her and found three of his own then bowed and gestured toward the water. “Ladies first.”
She curtsied, and with lightning speed heaved a rock that skittered four times then dropped. In rapid succession, she tossed the remaining stones which bounced four and five times respectively.
Heart pounding like he’d run a marathon, he slung the first stone that sunk after two skips. He rolled his eyes and sent the other two rocks sailing. One skipped three times, the other four times. Drat. She’d bested him, but if he were honest, he wasn’t disappointed.
“I won, I won, I won.” Doris cavorted and pranced along the waterline, her face beaming. She stopped and stood, hands on her hips. “Nice try, Dr. McCann. Weren’t you all-American in football? Guess those skills have degenerated with time.”
He grabbed her and pretended to throw her into the water.
She screamed and tried to extricate herself from his grip.
Inching toward the pond, his hands still clutched her upper arms. “Let’s hope the water is warm, Miss Strealer.” He made another fake attempt at tossing her, and his feet skidded on the mud. She slipped from his grasp and landed in the pond with a splash. His arms pinwheeled, and gravity pulled him forward, immersing him
over his head.
He popped above the surface. Beside him, she sputtered and wiped moisture from her face. Soaking wet, her hair hung in ropes.
Eyes wide, he waited for her anger to spew forth and held up his hands in surrender. “I am so sorry.”
She pushed a wave of water toward him, and her laughter rang out. “You’ll pay for this, Ron. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but I will get you back.”
“I look forward to it, Doris.” More than she knew.
Chapter Nine
Doris squinted through the cloud of cigarette smoke that hung over the tables in the pub like morning fog. The cacophony of voices, music from the jukebox, and cutlery on dishes reverberated inside her head. Why she’d agreed to come out after her shift was a mystery. Hours on her feet and hunching over the engine compartment of a particularly ornery ambulance had chewed up most of her day, topped off with a three-hour round trip for supplies.
She sighed and rubbed her forehead to ease the throbbing. Her eyes and throat burned. Next time she would provide a politely worded excuse then curl up on her bed with a book and a cup of tea.
Maureen poked her. “What’ll you have, Doris? Beer or wine?”
“Neither.” She smiled at the waitress. “Just tea and a glass of water for me.”
“Right away, luv.” The woman poked the pencil into her bun and sashayed between the tables to the bar.
“Are you going to be a wet blanket, Doris?”
“Nope, just not interested in alcohol, Maureen. I’m groggy enough after the hours I put in today. Aren’t you?”
Maureen shrugged. “I need something to unwind, and beer is just the ticket.” She cast her gaze from one side of the room to the other. “Then I’m going to find me a healthy man with two feet who can dance the night away. You should try it.”
The Mechanic & the MD Page 5
