Meeting with the regional director had gone as planned including the discussion about changing Ron’s assignment—the main reason for his hurried trip this morning. After the man had phoned with the news, Ron urged him to hold off on his decision until they could confer in person. He’d hoped to talk the man out of the possibility but needing a physician skilled in thoracic surgery at one of the London facilities, the director wanted to move him as soon as possible.
Granted, Ron found the administrative tasks tiresome, but the team of doctors, nurses, and orderlies were functioning as a well-oiled engine. He swallowed a laugh. Before spending time with Doris, he never would have understood exactly what the idiom meant. And he was fooling himself if he didn’t admit to enjoying their friendship more than he should. So much for remaining aloof.
A bang reverberated throughout the cab then the sound of whooshing as the truck lurched to the right. The vehicle slowed, and flapping vibrated the floor beneath his feet.
Doris blew out a loud breath and guided them off the road. “Flat tire. This is my fault. I didn’t inspect them before we set off this morning.”
“Maybe we hit something in the road.”
“Possibly. Anyway, I’ll get it changed as quickly as I can.”
“Please let me help.”
She glanced over, her eyebrows drawn together. “Aren’t you afraid of injuring your hands? A surgeon who can’t operate is no good.”
“You can handle the dangerous part of the process.” He grinned. “But if I stand around and do nothing, my caveman reputation will remain intact.”
Her lips quirked, and she nodded. “Fine, but if you get hurt, I won’t be held responsible.”
He swung down from the truck and trotted to the driver’s side.
Doris was already out of the vehicle kneeling over an open metal box on the ground. Tools clanking, she dug around then held up some sort of wrench with a flourish. “There you are!” She crawled between the cab and the truck bed where the spare was stowed. Grunting and mumbling, she wrestled with the bolts that held the tire in place.
Ron hesitated. Should he repeat his offer to help or wait to be told what to do? His father had made it clear that Ron’s mechanical skills were sorely lacking. His bumbling efforts might only make the situation worse.
“Stand aside. I’m going to toss down this beast.” Doris’s voice was muffled as she called out from behind the tire. “On three. One…two…three!” The rubber donut rolled off the truck and hit the earth with a thud, sending a shower of dust airborne. She jumped down and brushed off her hands, a smile of satisfaction lighting her face. A smudge of dirt graced one cheek.
He stifled the urge to rub the spot clean.
She loosened the nuts on the damaged tire, then retrieved the jack and positioned it under the vehicle’s frame. She cranked the handle until the tire was off the ground
Hands in his pockets, he sighed. He was as useful as an operating room without a scalpel. “Surely, there’s something I can do.”
With a glance over her shoulder, she shook her head. “Changing a tire is a one-person job. I’ll let you get the next one.”
“No, you won’t, but I appreciate you saying that.”
With agile motions, Doris removed the nuts, slid off the bad tire, and settled the spare in place. “You can hand me the fasteners.”
He scrambled forward and picked up the metal orbs. Dropping them into her palm one at a time, he rolled his eyes at the sense of satisfaction that swelled his chest from this small task.
Job finished, she tossed the wrench at the toolbox where it landed with a clatter. She tried to stand and stumbled. He rushed forward to catch her, his arms wrapping around her middle. For a brief moment he maintained his balance before stumbling, and they landed in a heap.
Sprawled on top of him, she blushed, her face a hairsbreadth away from his. He reached up and wiped away the smear of dirt he’d seen earlier. Her pupils dilated, causing her deep-brown eyes to turn inky. A tiny gasp squeaked, and the color on her cheeks deepened. His gaze moved to her lips, soft-looking and inviting. He shifted underneath her, and she jumped up, scuttling away.
Ron blew out a deep breath and sat up. Raking his fingers through his hair, he shook his head while his heartbeat stuttered in his chest. He glanced at Doris bent over the tool chest. The fall had loosened her hair, and a lock hung across her face, hiding her expression. Her hunched shoulders and stiff back told him that she was mortified. He needed to repair the damage.
“I’m sorry for being such an oaf.” He stood and retrieved the damaged tire. Rolling it toward the truck, he chuckled. “My caveman image is intact. No self-respecting gentleman drops his lady.”
“Not your fault.” She tucked the hair behind her ear and glanced at him, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and shame. “If I wasn’t so tall, you’d have been able to stay upright.”
“Nonsense. I’ve got eight inches on you. Apparently, my strength isn’t what it should be.” He flexed his arm and poked at his bicep. “See, not much there.” He let out an exaggerated grunt as he hefted the damaged tire onto the back of the cab.
She giggled, and her face lightened. “Let’s finish this and get back on the road. I appreciate you trying to make me feel better.”
He reached out and stroked her cheek. “I’m not just being kind. You are a beautiful woman, Doris, lithe and graceful, but more importantly, you are beautiful from the inside with a generous heart and steadfast faith. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different, even yourself.”
Before he could give in to the urge to draw her into a comforting embrace, he boosted himself onto the truck and attached the shredded tire to its rack. He double-checked the tightness of the nuts then lowered himself to the ground.
Doris grabbed the handle of the toolbox, her searching gaze filled with uncertainty and something else. Was it hope?
The day had taken a serious turn. Not what he planned.
He opened the driver’s door and bowed. “Your chariot awaits. Let us make haste.” He laced his fingers and cupped his hands. “A foothold, m’lady.”
She wrinkled her nose then shrugged. Using his hands as a step, she climbed into the vehicle and started the engine. He hurried around the front of the truck and got inside.
“You put any mechanic I’ve ever known to shame.” He rolled down the window to bring a breeze into the stifling hot cab.
“Anyone can change a tire, Ron.” A muscle in her jaw jumped. “But the flat shouldn’t have happened. I take pride in the procedures I put in place, and I failed to follow them.”
“Mistakes happen. The good news is we had a spare, and you were able to replace the bad tire.” He sighed. “Who will take care of me in London?”
“What?” Doris’s head whipped toward him, her eyes wide.
“I…uh…well…it’s not definite yet, but the regional director would like to relocate me to London. Apparently, they’re in need of a surgeon with my skills. He has to determine how to replace me here before the decision becomes final.”
“When were you going to tell me?” She frowned then waved her hand. “I was foolish to think we had become friends, and you would confide in me.”
“We are friends. I was instructed not to say anything.” Ron squirmed in the seat. “You have no right to get angry because of something out of my control. Some information is not meant for you women. You girls should focus on doing the jobs you’ve been tasked with and leave the heavy lifting to the men.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Never mind. You don’t owe me or any of the girls an explanation.” She gripped the steering wheel, her lips set in a thin slash.
“Wait. That came out wrong. There are hierarchies—”
“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”
He clenched his hands and sighed. In the blink of an eye, he’d bungled things again.
Chapter Fourteen
Airplanes buzzed ove
rhead, and sweat broke out on Doris’s face. She squinted at the blue expanse above as she guided the ambulance along the remote stretch of highway on the way to the hospital. Would the dark profile of an aircraft always give her the shakes, even after the war?
Tasked with picking up two patients who needed Ron’s expertise, she had pushed the vehicle to its limits and prayed for a smooth ride. She should have been more specific in her conversations with the Lord. Doris’s stomach roiled. “The glare is too strong, Sheryl. I can’t identify the planes. Should we take cover?”
Medic Sheryl King accompanied her to care for the injured men during the return trip. Face ashen, she stared at the sky for a long moment. “Months have passed since the Jerries did any serious bombing. Do you think they’re back at it?”
“I hope not. The incident when Dr. McCann and I saw the lone bomber was frightening enough.” She shuddered and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Visions of Ron’s muscular form shielding her in the culvert edged into her consciousness. Her throat thickened, and her heart beat faster. “I can’t imagine experiencing a full raid.” She pushed the memories to the back of her mind and craned her neck to examine the planes through the windshield.
“No sirens have activated, so we must be in the clear.”
The aircraft banked, and the red-white-and-blue rondel of the RAF appeared on the bottom of the wings. Tears sprang to Doris’s eyes, and she blinked them away. Thank you, Father God.
Sheryl rubbed her arms and flopped back against the seat. “Truth be told, I will never get used to the sound of airplane engines. When I get home, I’m going to take the train when I travel.”
Doris let out a shaky laugh and pressed on the accelerator. “We’re all nervous Nellies. I don’t know how the British people have remained so stalwart through all of this. I’ve only been here a few weeks, and I’m a mess.”
“Maybe they’ve gotten used to it.”
“How could anyone do that? Wondering if your next moment will be your last or whether you’ll see your family again at the end of the day.”
“Don’t be so macabre. So what if you don’t know how long you’ve got to live? If I’m going to die young, I may as well have a good time before I go. You know? Eat, drink, and be merry…and all that jazz.”
“I don’t think condoning carousing is the idea behind the saying.”
“Don’t be such a wet blanket, Doris.” Sheryl’s face darkened. “You’re such a do-gooder, but that doesn’t give you the right to judge others.”
“I’m—”
“You may not think so, but disdain is written all over your face.”
Doris gaped at Sheryl. How had the conversation degenerated so quickly? Did she criticize people and push her beliefs? She slumped behind the wheel. “Gee, Sheryl. I’m sorry to make you feel bad. I’m the last person who has a right to condemn others. I make mistakes all the time—our discussion a case in point. Will you forgive me?”
Sheryl’s glare faltered, and she shrugged. “Sure. I shouldn’t have gotten so hot under the collar. Maybe that near miss stirred me up more than I thought.” Shifting in her seat, she pointed at a stone Elizabethan manor perched on a rise in the distance. “Is that our destination?”
“Yes. These British country homes are something to behold, aren’t they?”
“A house big enough to see from miles away. Two or three of these would hold the entire town I’m from.”
“Estates are kind of like a village unto themselves. I wonder how the gentry feel about having to give up their places.”
“If they’re rich enough, these mansions are second homes.” Sheryl giggled. “Maybe I’ll find me a wealthy baron or lord and stay in England. I could get used to living in a castle with lots of staff.”
“You’d have your work cut out for you with repairs. Think about what we’ve done at Heritage Hall converting it to useable space for a hospital. Have you heard the rumors about the damage that troops are doing to some of the homes that serve as barracks?” She grinned. “Be sure to select a guy whose place is move-in ready.”
“Good advice.” Sheryl snorted a laugh then cocked her head. “What do barons do for a living? Do they have an actual job like a teacher or a lawyer?”
“How much coffee did you have this morning?” Doris gave her a sidelong glance. “I’ve lost count of the number of topics we’ve covered, and we’ve only been on the road for thirty minutes.”
“Sorry. I’m always like this. My brain hops around like a snowshoe hare. The first-aid training through the Red Cross is the first program I’ve succeeded in finishing.”
“Congratulations. And now you’re in England. I didn’t know what I’d end up doing after school, but the idea of working on trucks overseas didn’t enter my mind.”
“Before joining the Red Cross, I’d never been out of the town where I grew up. As terrible as the war is, it has given me opportunities I might not have had.”
“You mean like finding a well-to-do English earl?”
“Or an intelligent dreamboat of a doctor.”
“Make up your mind.”
Sheryl poked her. “I meant for you. I see the way you act around each other, studiously pretending to be casual acquaintances.”
“There’s nothing to fake about being acquaintances. We attended the same high school. He was a senior when I was a freshman.”
“And now you’re all grown up.”
“That’s what he said…well, after he finally recognized me.”
“So, he’s noticed you. That’s a good sign, but you’ve got to reel him in, sister. You can’t leave the relationship to chance.”
“What relationship? There isn’t one. He made that clear the last time we drove back from London. ”
“Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that fib.”
Doris’s heart constricted. “Besides, even if I wanted to be his gal, I can’t. He could get reassigned. Then what?”
“You’d write letters like every other couple across the globe. Or you could put in for a transfer.”
“I’m not going to follow him around like a love-lost puppy. Face it, a serious relationship during war is a bad idea. Even if he doesn’t move. What if he gets killed?” Her voice cracked. “I couldn’t handle it if something happened to him.” She straightened her spine. “No, it’s better not to get involved.”
“Good luck with that, sister. Your words say no, but your expression definitely says yes.”
Chapter Fifteen
Raucous laughter filtered across the grassy expanse between the garage and the hospital. Doris ducked out from under the hood of the ambulance and stared at the crowd of people on the lawn. She’d taken advantage of the warm, sunny day and moved the vehicle from the building to work on it. The nurses must have felt the same way about the weather and brought the many patients outside. Their joy was palpable.
Several men in wheelchairs clustered together watching two orderlies play catch. A pair of men on crutches sauntered along the lane that led to the vegetable garden. A group of patients whose arms were casted kicked a soccer ball among themselves while nurses waved their arms and reprimanded them. Each time a man successfully kept one of the women from grabbing the ball, the others cheered.
Doris shook her head. If the men felt good enough to roughhouse, why spoil the fun with a lecture? With minor injuries like broken arms or wrists, the soldiers would surely be called back to combat. They deserved some lighthearted fun before their reentry into a world of killing.
She sighed and returned her attention to the engine compartment. Gawking at the men and women in the yard wouldn’t get her work finished, but the sight had brought back memories of the picnics and church fellowships she’d frequented at home. With a large percentage of boys in the armed forces and gals in the auxiliary ranks, the events were no doubt sparsely attended. Who remained? The last community newsletter issued by Mrs. Warne indicated the town was primarily women and the elderly.
Another peek at the merriment, and she froze, her gaze riveted to the tall, broad-shouldered figure. Sunshine lightened his sandy-brown hair to blonde, but the white-coated form belonged to Ron. Of that she was sure. Her heart bumped, and she chided herself for her schoolgirl reaction.
He moved among the men, bending to speak to those who couldn’t stand. His face shone as he smiled and responded to his patients. He wagged his finger at the soccer players then said something to the nurses that caused them to leave the men to their game. Sure-footed, he intercepted the ball then kicked it to one of the other participants. Jeering from one side brought more amusement, then he waved and trotted toward the men on crutches who seemed delighted to have his company.
Doris blew out a shaky breath. His care, concern, and kind treatment of the men showed his compassionate side, an aspect of his personality that rarely emerged in her presence. No. That was wrong. He’d been gentle and considerate with her on occasion. Only when he was under pressure did he get testy, and who could blame him for that?
Good thing Sheryl wasn’t here. That girl would know immediately that Doris was more than a little attracted to the good doctor and would never let her hear the end of it. She yanked her handkerchief from her pocket and wiped the perspiration that had formed along her hairline. Perhaps she should work inside where she wouldn’t be distracted. Right. As if not seeing him would prevent her from thinking about him.
Ron raised his hand in greeting and started toward her.
Great. She’d been caught staring like a toddler in a candy store. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Had he received word of his transfer? Should she ask or pretend their conversation in the truck never occurred?
The Mechanic & the MD Page 8
