by Cate Beauman
“I’m assuming you know how to weigh someone.”
He nodded. “I think I can handle it.”
“I think so too. What about height?”
“I’m guessing you’re right around five-five.”
“Good guess.”
“Thanks.”
“I’d say you’re six foot.”
“Correct,” he said with a nod of approval.
“But this isn’t a carnival game. Do you know how to use the height rod on the scale?”
“I bet I can figure it out.”
The height rod certainly wasn’t rocket science. “Fine. We’ll move on and start with taking an oral temperature.”
“I can handle that as well.”
“I want to be sure.”
He shrugged.
“Luckily we have this great little machine that will take care of almost everything for you.” She rolled over the portable vital signs monitor. “You’re going to hit this button three times.” She pressed the white button. “Then you’ll take the temperature probe from the probe well and make sure the machine is showing the code for oral temperature instead of axillary before proceeding.”
“ORL” flashed on the small screen.
“Put on a probe cover by sliding this into the box.” She demonstrated, fitting a thin plastic barrier over the shiny piece. “Open up.”
Shane did as he was asked.
“You’ll place this under the tongue in the sublingual pocket and wait for the reading.” The machine beeped, and she glanced at the readout. “Ninety-eight point seven.”
“That’s easy enough.”
“You feel comfortable with this procedure?”
He raised his eyebrow. “Yeah.”
“Good. Babies will need a rectal reading, which I’ll take care of.”
“I’ll let you.”
She smiled, taking his wrist, settling his arm on his thigh, determined to keep her focus on the clinical aspects of her job instead of how good he smelled. “We’ll move on to taking a radial pulse.”
“I’ve taken a pulse before.”
“Humor me and listen to my instructions anyway.” She batted her eyelashes.
He grinned. “Like I said, you’re the boss.”
She looked down, realizing his smiles didn’t leave her unaffected. Clearing her throat, she continued. “For a radial pulse, we’re going to use the radial artery, which is located on the thumb-side of your wrist.” She settled her index and middle finger against the strong beat beneath his skin. “Count for thirty seconds using the second hand on the clock and multiply by two.”
“Will I be able to use a calculator?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re smiling.”
Her smile widened. “I shouldn’t be. This is serious.”
He nodded solemnly. “Vitals are important business.”
“Agreed.” She turned away, busying herself with writing his numbers down even though it wasn’t necessary. She’d sworn herself to an official “man hiatus” after her breakup with Derek, but Shane had the potential to be trouble. She faced him again, finding comfort in the fact that he was her colleague. Never again would she make the mistake of dating someone she worked with. “Um, why don’t you show me what you know and we’ll move on to blood pressure.”
“You got it.” He got down.
She took his place on the examination table.
“Let’s get a temp on you, Doc.” He pushed the button she’d shown him three times, popped the temperature probe into a clean sheath, and slid the instrument under her tongue.
She swallowed in the humming silence, staring into his eyes.
The machine beeped, and he looked at the readout. “Ninety-eight point one.”
“Like a pro,” she said when he removed the thermometer from her mouth.
“I’m learning from the best.” He moved the portable unit out of the way. “Now for your pulse.” He took her wrist, resting her forearm on her thigh, then settled his warm fingers against her skin as he looked at the clock. “Sixty-three.”
“Great. I—”
He stepped closer, grazing her carotid artery with the rough pads of his fingers as they stared at one another. “I figure I should practice—incase I can’t find the pulse in the patient’s wrist.”
Holy crap, he was beautiful, and charming, and sneaky—definitely a problem. “You, um, you did fine.”
“It pays to be thorough.”
She swallowed before his eyes left hers to look at the clock.
He frowned. “Hmm.”
“What?”
“Much faster.” His gaze locked on hers again. “Eighty-four. That’s a pretty significant jump. You might want to get that checked out.”
Her pulse had been fine before he started touching her. She pulled his hand away. “I’m fine. I just—”
The front door burst open. “Help.”
Reagan rushed off the bed and hurried into the waiting area, looking at the woman in ripped jeans and a baggy t-shirt holding a crying little girl in her arms as the child pressed a bloody cloth to the side of her face.
“My daughter’s bleedin’ real bad.”
“Okay.” Reagan guided the woman into the pediatric room. “What’s your daughter’s name?”
“Sue Anne.”
“I’m going to have you lay Sue Anne down here on the table and keep the shirt pressed to the wound.”
“Okay.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“She’s sayin’ she fell on a rock outside the house. Her forehead’s cut up somethin’ fierce.”
“I’m going to take good care of Sue Anne,” she reassured, pausing with a jolt as she remembered similar promises she’d made to Mable’s mother. Her heart accelerated as images of curly black hair and peaches-and-cream skin turning pale flashed through her mind. “I just need—” she cleared her throat. “I need some gloves.” She turned, closing her eyes, doing her best to put away the past. Mable was gone, but Sue Anne needed her now.
“Hey.” Shane came up next to her, bumping her arm. “Are you all right?” he murmured.
“Uh, yes.” She swallowed, nodding, tensing her body against the need to shake. “Gloves.” She yanked a pair from the box. “If you could glove up as well, I may need a hand.”
“Sure.”
She walked over to the table, steeling herself with a deep breath. “Sue Anne, I’m going to take a look at your forehead, but first I need to ask you a couple of questions.”
“Okay.” She wiped at her tears.
“Can you tell me how old you are?”
“Seven.”
The same age as Mable. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Purple.”
“Do you feel dizzy?”
She shook her head.
“Do you feel sick to your stomach?”
Sue Anne shook her head again.
“Did she lose consciousness?” Reagan asked Sue Anne’s mother.
“No ma’am, but she sure screamed bloody murder.”
“That’s actually a good thing.” She grabbed the otoscope, shining the bright light in Sue Anne’s big brown eyes, satisfied with the normal pupil response. “Sue Anne, I’m ready to see if I can help you feel better.”
“I don’t want ya to.”
“I’m not going to touch, just look.”
“No.” She turned away, heaving out deep breaths. “It hurts.”
“Hush now, Sue Anne,” the worried mother scolded, patting the girl’s leg. “Let the doctor have a look.”
Shane crouched down to Sue Anne’s level. “You know, this whale table’s pretty cool.”
Sue Anne studied Shane.
“Doctor Reagan’s really gentle. She just gave me a once-over and it didn’t hurt at all.”
“Jasper Winslow says the Feds is the devil in disguise.”
“Sue Anne,” her mother hissed.
“
That’s okay,” Reagan reassured. This was the perfect opportunity to show Sue Anne and her mother that Jasper Winslow was wrong. “Sue Anne, I’m going to pull the shirt away from your head. I’ll be very careful.” She forced her gloves onto her clammy hands and pulled the soiled shirt away from the little girl’s head, staring at the blood oozing from the inch-long gash.
You said she was fine. You said she was okay. You killed my baby.
She clenched her jaw, pushing the memories away, concentrating on the ugly wound.
“Can you fix her, Doctor?”
“Definitely. There’s a little bruising, so I’m going to press around the laceration and make sure we aren’t dealing with anything more than a cut.” She pushed gently, making certain there was no movement within the skull.
Sue Anne sucked in a deep breath. “It hurts. It hurts, Mommy.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Reagan gave the girl an apologetic smile. She felt once more, certain that the bump was benign, and stepped back. “I won’t do that anymore.”
“I’ll tell you what, Sue Anne’s a trouper,” Shane said, earning a cautious smile from the little girl.
“She’s doing great,” Reagan agreed. “I’m going to be finished in just a couple more minutes.” She tore open an antiseptic packet, wiping away drying blood and dirt that had trailed into Sue Anne’s hairline and down along her brow. “How’s that?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“If I do anything that hurts you tell me.”
The child nodded.
She rolled a towel and grabbed a plastic basin. “Sue Anne, I’m going to have you rest your head on this towel just like you would on your pillow at home.”
The girl followed her instructions.
“Can you roll to your side for just a minute?”
Sue Ann did as she was asked.
“Great job.” Reagan filled a large syringe with saline solution.
Sue Anne’s eye grew saucer wide. “What’re ya gonna do with that?”
“I’m going to give your cut a bath so we can make sure we get all of the little rocks and germs out of it. I’m not going to poke you with the needle. I promise.” She turned her attention to Shane. “Can you hold the basin right here so we can catch all of the water?”
“Sure.”
Reagan sprayed the saltwater in a steady stream, removing any remaining gravel embedded in the laceration, making sure to be thorough as Sue Anne blew out several whimpering breaths. “There we go. All cleaned up.”
“See? She’s pretty gentle.” Shane gave Sue Anne a playful poke to the shoulder.
The girl nodded.
“You can lay on your back again, Sue Anne.” She dabbed at the wound, drying it. “One more step, but it’s a weird one.”
“Weird?”
“Very. Sometimes doctors have to sew a cut back together, but I’m going to use glue.”
“Glue?” Sue Anne’s mother asked.
“Yes, it’s a special type of adhesive that will allow Sue Anne’s wound to heal without much fuss at all. You won’t have to come back in the way you would if we used traditional stitches. Glue stitches are great because the barrier keeps infection away.”
“I never heard of such a thing.”
“It’s really pretty amazing.” She took the small vile of purple liquid from the table and squeezed. “All right, are you ready?”
Sue Anne Shook her head.
“You can hold my hand.” Shane held his up, and the little girl snatched it. “If you feel scared, even a little, you can squeeze.”
“I’m feelin’ real scared.”
“Go ahead and squeeze. Closing your eyes helps too.” He slammed his shut, and Sue Anne did the same, peaking from one eye, giggling when Shane did the same.
Reagan smiled. Shane was turning out to be a lifesaver. “I’m going to start. This will be super quick,” she said as she gently pushed the skin back together and applied a thin coat of the liquid.
Sue Anne bit down on her lip. “It’s warm.”
“Squeeze my hand tighter,” Shane encouraged.
“I’m almost finished.” She applied the next coat. “All right. That’s it.”
Sue Anne cautiously blinked open her eyes. “I’m all better?”
Reagan smiled. “You’re all better.” She held out a mirror for the little girl. “What do you think?”
“It’s kinda strange…and kinda neat.”
“Definitely neat,” Shane moved in for a closer inspection. “If I ever need stitches I’m having those.”
Sue Anne beamed, looking in the mirror again.
Reagan turned her attention to Sue Anne’s mother. “You’ll want to keep the wound as dry as possible.”
“For how long?”
“Seven days.”
“How’m I gonna get her a bath?”
“She can bathe and have her hair washed but the site should stay completely dry until tomorrow right around this time. After that, the adhesive can get wet—just not soaked—and you won’t want to scrub at it.”
“I guess that ain’t so bad. The things they been sayin’ about this place ain’t true. Rumor was there’s a new doctor.”
“That’s me.”
“I’m thankful for what you done. She was bleedin’ a lot more than my home remedy was good for.”
Reagan nodded. “Head wounds tend to be pretty messy. I’m going to send you home with some Tylenol. Sue Anne can have a teaspoon every four to six hours if she’s complaining of any discomfort. If you notice any reddening, swelling, or pus, I’ll want you to come back. Those are all signs of infection.” Reagan moved to the closet, taking the trial-sized box of acetaminophen from the shelf. “If Sue Anne starts feeling super sleepy, develops a headache, or you notice her acting different than usual, you should come back too. I’m not particularly worried about a concussion, but sometimes symptoms don’t show up right away.”
“I don’t have no money on me to pay.”
“That’s okay.”
“I’ll need to bring you somethin’.”
She recognized pride and nodded. “I’d like to check on Sue Anne tomorrow to make sure her wound is healing well.”
“I can’t be walkin’ all the way back down here.”
“Would you feel comfortable if I came to you?”
Sue Anne’s mother sighed, hesitating. “I guess that would be all right. We don’t have nothin’ as fancy as this.”
“I’m not worried about fancy. My only concern is making sure Sue Anne is healthy.” She reached for a baggie of various goodies. “Does Sue Anne have brothers and sisters?”
“Yes. There be four boys and two girls all together.”
“I have these if you’d like to take them—they have toothbrushes, toothpaste, a comb, and a few stickers.”
Sue Anne beamed. “Can I, Mommy?”
“I imagine so.”
Reagan handed off six cheerful baggies she’d stuffed late last night. “So, I’ll come see you tomorrow.”
“We live about a mile up Redman’s Pass.”
“I’ll find you.”
“I’ll be thankin’ you again, Doctor Reagan. I’ll be tellin’ people you’ve got a fine Christian spirit.”
“Thank you.”
The mother and daughter left and she closed the door behind them, leaning her weight against the window frame as she watched them walk down the road. Sue Anne was one of the lucky ones. She would be back to playing in no time, but even as the girl skipped along the dirt path, Reagan ran through the procedures she’d followed for a simple head wound, afraid she’d overlooked an important step. She gripped the doorknob, her heart thundering, debating whether she should call Sue Anne and her mother back to reexamine the laceration. The wound site had been clean and the frontal bone free of movement, but there was always the chance she’d missed something bigger, something that could cost the happy child her life. She twisted the knob as worry ate at her.
“Congratulations, Doc.” Shane pushed a gentl
e fist against her shoulder. “Looks like you had your first patient.”
She smiled, glancing from the window to Shane. “Yes. Thanks for your help.”
“No problem.” A frown replaced his smile. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He moved to stand next to her, peering out the glass. “A couple of satisfied customers.”
“Yes.” But her stomach would more than likely feel unsettled until she saw Sue Anne again tomorrow morning. “I’m going to clean up the mess and get started on the exam room.”
“I’ll give you a hand.”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
Chapter Four
The front door opened, and Shane looked up from ESPN’s pre-season football highlights as Reagan stepped in. “Hey,” he said uncrossing his ankles on the coffee table and sitting up farther on the couch.
She sent him a weary smile as she toed off her Keds. “Hi.”
He glanced at the clock, noting her tired eyes. It was almost nine thirty. “Looks like another late one.”
She secured the lock on the door. “Yeah, I’m pretty beat, but at least the clinic is officially ready for patients. Thanks again for your help.”
“You’re welcome. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more with the clerical stuff.”
“Unfortunately the system requires a log-in. I’ll have to assign you one.”
“Definitely.” He rubbed at his jaw, trying to find a way to delve beyond the small talk. “I made dinner. There’s a burger in the fridge and some baked beans.”
“That sounds good.”
He stood. “I can heat them up for you.”
She shook her head, yawning. “That’s sweet, but I had a protein bar a couple hours ago.”
“Are you sure? It won’t take long.”
“I’m sure. I think I’m going to head to bed.” She yawned again. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight.” He sat back down, frowning as she disappeared down the hall. Doc was working herself hard. He’d stayed with her at the clinic until they put away the last of the boxes, hoping she would knock off for the night when he suggested dinner sometime after seven. But she’d refused, saying she had a computer to update. He’d offered to bring the meal to her, but once again, she turned him down, telling him she didn’t have time.
His frown deepened as he tried to figure out his reluctant new principal. She was sweet and patient with injured children, sympathetic to the worries of nervous mothers, but guarded around him. His quick call to Tyson while he sizzled beef on the grill hadn’t brought him any closer to solving the mystery. Tyson didn’t know anything more about Reagan than he did. He considered reaching out to Ethan. His boss could give him the gorgeous doctor’s entire life story, down to her favorite brand of laundry detergent, with a few taps of the computer keys, but what would the fun be in that? He wanted to learn about Reagan from Reagan herself.
