Together, Sydney and Quentin helped get Landon settled in the exam room. Without applying very much pressure, the simple act of touching the clavicle caused Landon to wince in pain.
“Sydney, we’ll need to get an x-ray to make sure what we’re dealing with,” Quentin suggested. “I’m afraid it’s more serious than a muscle sprain. In fact, you may have broken your collarbone.”
Landon grunted. “Sounds about right. That explains the way it feels.”
When it looked as if Landon might get sick to his stomach, Sidney held his head. “Would it help to lie back on the table?”
“I don’t think so. Any little movement will send me over the top.”
“I’ll get you a pan to throw up in, or if you feel like walking down the hall to the bathroom…”
Landon shook his head. “Nope. Can’t do it. I don’t think I’d make it.” He turned to Shelby. “If my shoulder’s messed up, you know what this means, don’t you? There’s no way I’ll be able to help Caleb with the Christmas tree delivery when it arrives at the end of the week.”
Quentin shook his head. “You’re looking at six weeks of recovery time, minimum, maybe even eight because of your age.”
Landon sent a long look toward his wife. “The trees are already scheduled. The truck left Oregon already. They’re paid for. There’s no way to stop it.”
Shelby ran her hand through Landon’s hair. “Stop stressing out about it. The order gets here every year at the same time—the Friday before Thanksgiving.”
Landon wiped the sweat off his brow. “You and Caleb can’t unload and set up all those trees by yourselves, not in one weekend. You’ll never get it done.”
Shelby patted her husband’s cheek. “Listen to you stressing out about this. Cooper can help. Now relax and don’t worry about that now. We’ll manage, even if we have to hire a few part-time people to do the job, we’ll get it done.”
Quentin thought of Beckham. “Would a skinny fourteen-year-old kid be able to handle unloading and helping you set things up?”
“I don’t see why not,” Landon said, his face pinched in pain. “Right now I’d say we could use all the help we can find. At this point, we aren’t picky.”
The x-ray proved Landon had a fractured collarbone in the spot where it joined to the shoulder blade.
“The good news is the broken end of the bone doesn’t appear to have shifted out of place.” He held up the x-ray so Shelby could see the fracture. “The bone still lines up correctly, which means if it continues to heal properly you won’t need surgery.”
“That’s something, I guess,” Landon noted.
“I’ll put your arm in a sling and give you a few pain pills to get you through the night. Absolutely no activity, though. None.” He turned back to Landon. “Make sure you heed that warning. If you even try to lift anything, you could shift the collarbone completely out of place and then you’re looking at an operation. So don’t try to be a hero and get back to your regular routine in time for that truck to get here. Understand?”
“I’ll make sure he follows doctor’s orders,” Shelby promised.
“Great. You set up a follow-up appointment for next week so we can keep an eye on things.”
“Thanks, Doc. You’ll get me the kid to help out Caleb, right?”
“You bet. I think he’ll be walking on air at the chance to earn a little money for the holidays.” Or to eat, Quentin thought.
At five-thirty Sydney locked the front door and blew out an exasperated breath. She leaned back against the doorjamb. “What a day. We haven’t had this much excitement around here since Zach Dennison wandered off without his meds.”
“Zach told me about that. One of the first conversations I had with him. I explained that sometimes it takes a while to find the right balance of drugs to help treat depression.”
“He’s doing so much better. He was supposed to go with me to the movies Saturday night but cancelled, something about Bree’s nursery needing a different color.”
Quentin chuckled. “So you and Zach are…?”
Sydney waved a hand. “Oh no, nothing like that. We’re just friends. We go on hikes together or occasionally go out to dinner.”
“Sounds like a couple to me.”
“Well, it’s not.”
“Does Zach know that?”
“Absolutely. Neither one of us wants a relationship. Although we have discussed going out of our way to make people think that we’re involved. You know, just to mess with the rumor mill. We decided that was probably a bad idea though. People might actually get caught up in our little plot. Why did you tell Landon that Beckham was fourteen?”
“Because I saw a chance for him to earn a few bucks. And fourteen sounded a lot more mature than thirteen.”
“Well, I say we go over to the Dowling house and check on Charlotte, see how sick she is for ourselves.”
“Sounds like a plan. You ready to get out of here?”
“I was ready at three o’clock. Just let me get my purse.”
Quentin grabbed his black bag before locking the front door using his brand-new key. “Beckham lives just down the street. It won’t take but five minutes to walk there.”
“Doesn’t bother me. Most days I walk to work so making the rounds through the neighborhood on foot is no big deal. What if we get a cold reception dropping by out of the blue like this, though?”
“We dangle the job in front of him. It’s a perfect excuse to stop by. Surely he’ll let us in the door just to hear the details. It’ll take something like that to get inside because every time I bring up his grandmother, he tries to shut down the conversation.”
“It sounds like he’s definitely trying to hide something.”
“But what?”
“She’s elderly. He’s probably scared that if something happens to her he’ll have to go to a foster home.”
“That’s not a happy prospect.”
“Exactly. He’s bound to be worried about his grandmother and his future.”
“No wonder he’s been evading talking about it.”
“And doing a good job of it,” Sydney concluded.
When they walked up to the porch, it was Quentin who rang the doorbell.
A nervous Beckham cracked the door open a scant few inches. “Hey, what are you guys doing here?”
“We have news about a job for you, maybe after school, but definitely on weekends.”
“Really? What’s the job?”
“You let us in and we’ll sit down and go over the details.”
At the prospect of letting them in the house, Beckham hesitated. “If you’re here to see Gram, she’s sleeping.”
“It’s not even six o’clock yet,” Sydney pointed out. “Did she eat supper before she went to bed?”
“She’s fine. She had some of the leftover fish I cooked last night,” Beckham explained while still guarding the door.
“Look, do you want to know about the job or not?” Quentin pressed. “They could give it to someone else.”
Beckham finally took a step back. “All right, all right. Come on in.”
Quentin let Sydney go in first.
She expected an unsightly mess and was surprised when the small living room turned out to be clean and tidy. “You’re a good housekeeper,” she said to the boy.
“It’s just me and Gram. It’s not that big a deal. Go ahead and sit down. Do you want some water? I made some tea last night. It’s still good.”
Sydney hesitated at the idea of taking anything away from Beckham, but decided it would be rude to refuse a drink. “Sure, a glass of water would be great.”
“I’m fine,” Quentin said as he dropped into a cushy recliner and began his pitch. “You know The Plant Habitat?”
“Sure.”
“Landon and Shelby need someone to help Caleb with the Christmas trees this year, unloading first, then setting them up with those wooden stands.”
“It could last until Christmas,” Sydney added. “Yo
u’d be an asset at selling the trees and then loading them up. There are tips in that.”
Beckham brought back a glass from the kitchen and handed it off to Sydney. “Cool. I could make some real money.”
“That’s what we thought. The job starts Friday afternoon as soon as the delivery truck from Oregon pulls up. Can you handle that?”
“It’d be my first real job.”
“That’s right. And do you know what else would be great, Beckham? If you’d let us talk to your grandmother while we’re here. She needs to be included in the discussion.”
“Yeah, but you should let her get some rest.”
From across the room, Quentin spotted a bloody piece of tissue in the wastebasket. “Beckham, is your grandmother coughing up blood?”
“A little. Why?”
“Because that would signal a serious medical problem.”
“How serious?”
Quentin sighed. “A long list of infections, a host of problems with the blood vessels, maybe even cancer. Look, I know you’re trying to protect her, but she really needs to see a doctor. It’s in her own best interests. And I’m here now.”
Beckham’s shoulders drooped. “You want me to go wake her up or what?”
“I do. I’m sorry, but I’d feel better if I knew she approved of you getting the job.”
“Okay, okay,” Beckham said grudgingly as he moved down the hallway.
A few minutes later he came back to the living room and motioned Quentin to follow. “She’s awake, but a little groggy. She took some cough syrup earlier although it doesn’t work much.”
Quentin stepped into a dark room with the drapes drawn. Despite the lack of light, he could make out a frail figure tucked into a bed that seemed to swallow the woman up.
He approached Charlotte Dowling and noted how pale she looked. “Mrs. Dowling, I’m Dr. Blackwood. I’m sorry to wake you.”
“I told Beckham not to bother calling anyone.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Her breathing, like her words, was labored.
“And he didn’t.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I stopped by to talk to him about a job over at The Plant Habitat this weekend. I noticed the blood on a tissue in the waste can. How long have you been coughing up that amount of blood?”
“Weeks.”
“You have to know that’s cause for alarm, a sign of something serious.”
“I suspect it is.” Charlotte went on to wheeze and try to sit up. “It’s been my experience that doctors don’t do all that much good for the amount of money they charge.”
Quentin picked up her bony hand. “What about Beckham? He sees you going downhill like this and it worries him. He can’t help wondering what might happen to him if anything happens to you.”
“Oh, no. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I brought my medical bag with me. Will you let me listen to your heart? It won’t take that long.”
Charlotte sheepishly nodded her head. “I don’t mean to worry Beckham.”
“I know you don’t.” Quentin put his stethoscope to her chest. He helped her sit up all the way so he could get a better listen. When he was done he sat down next to her on the side of the bed. “You have fluid in your lungs. I’d like to get you into the office and do an x-ray. I’d also like to start you on antibiotics administered through an IV along with a hypotonic solution that contains electrolytes. Right now you need a faster delivery system than pills. But to do that I’d need you to let me come and go in the house to check the IV. Or if you’d feel more comfortable with a woman, my nurse, Sydney Reed, could keep an eye on you by stopping by each morning. Are you agreeable to that? If not, I’d have to recommend sending you to Santa Cruz to the hospital there.”
“That all sounds very expensive. Beckham and I are barely making ends meet living on my social security.”
Quentin squeezed Charlotte’s fingers. “I don’t want to send you so far away to the hospital.”
“But how much is all that kind of stuff going to cost me?”
“How old are you, Mrs. Dowling?”
“I’ll be sixty-eight in January.”
“Are you signed up for Medicare?”
“I believe so.”
Quentin knew even with insurance the bill might be astronomical. But he refused to let money be the deciding factor or stand in the way of Charlotte receiving treatment. “It probably won’t cost all that much. Remember, it’s important to determine why you’re coughing up blood. I need you to agree to a chest x-ray in my office, the sooner, the better.”
“Would tomorrow do?”
He spotted Sydney standing with Beckham just inside the door. “Good. Great. Are you allergic to any medications?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll give you a shot, an antibiotic. We’ll save the IV for tomorrow when you come into the office. Are you okay to get up and go to the bathroom by yourself?”
“So far,” she said weakly.
After administering the shot, Quentin took out his cell phone to call in a prescription at the pharmacy.
Beckham stilled his hand. “We don’t have the money for medicine,” he whispered.
“That’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”
“Why?”
He laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Because I have a grandmother, too. And I’d want someone to do the same for her.”
Once they left the house and were standing on the sidewalk, Sydney turned to Quentin. “That was an amazing thing you just did.”
“Even former surgeons with gigantic egos have a heart.”
“I’m rethinking that assessment. I’m—”
But his cell phone rang, preventing her from going on. He slid the bar across to answer. The frantic voice on the other end got his attention. “Okay. Okay. Calm down. I’ll head back to the office right now and meet you there. It’ll be okay.”
The call ended but he looked over at Sydney. “I don’t believe this. That was Brent Cody. River’s water just broke.”
Sydney let out a long laugh. “Wow, Dr. Blackwood, you’re having one helluva first day. You really know how to kick things off with a bang.”
Eight hours later at two-fifteen in the morning, Eli Marcus Cody entered the world to an eager packed house. Sydney had never seen so many people fill up a waiting room. She had to shoo them all away so the new mother and baby could get some rest.
She started with Daddy. “Go home, Brent. Get some sleep. Tell all those people out there to do the same.”
“I can’t believe Eli got here two weeks early.”
“Weighing in at seven and a half pounds, I’d say he was more than ready to get here.”
“He looks a lot like Seth did, so tiny and perfect. But why isn’t he screaming his head off, though? Shouldn’t he be crying? River’s already asking me about that.”
Sydney studied Brent holding the little bundle with a mass of black hair in his great big hands and up close to his chest. “That baby’s fine, more than. Stop worrying. And Eli cried plenty when he made his initial debut. You were right there, remember?”
“I was too excited to pick up on that. I was too busy trying to count his fingers and toes for when River asked me.”
“Give me that baby so he can sleep,” Sydney said in her authoritative nurse voice. “You, take Luke and go home. That’s an order, Mr. Chief of Police. Now go.”
“Better listen to Nurse Reed,” Quentin chided as he rounded the corner of the exam room. “She runs this place with an iron fist. You don’t want to make her mad.”
“I’m too happy to make anyone mad,” Brent said, reluctantly relinquishing Eli to Sydney. “I’ll get all these people out of here so River can have some quiet, though.”
“There you go, use your law enforcement, no nonsense tone. We’ll see you back here bright and early in the morning.”
“Will you both be here?”
“You get one or the other,” Quentin answered with a grin. “Where else woul
d we be with Mom and baby on board?”
After everyone had gone, Quentin found Sydney standing by the bassinet the Codys had brought with them. “Why don’t you take off? I can bunk in my office on the couch, keep an eye on them until you relieve me later.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Now go. Follow your own advice and get some sleep.”
“I’ve worked double shifts before,” Sydney pointed out.
“We both have. This is different.” Quentin glanced around the exam room. “You know, it occurred to me this clinic is way too small for this kind of activity.”
“But functional. Although I can’t remember having two patients here before. We have to make room for Charlotte tomorrow. That means we’ll be down to one exam room for the walk-ins. As for the mass of people out in the waiting room, River’s delivery was an exceptional event, lots of family and friends coming by to check on the arrival time. So don’t judge it too harshly.”
“But in the middle of the night? All these people showing up, they barely had room to squat.”
“Small towns,” she repeated. “Brent called his brother, Ethan, who brought Hayden and Nate along for support. Ethan called his parents, Marcus and Lindeen, who drove over from Santa Cruz in a caravan with all the other relatives. You should know the drill, Dr. Blackwood, it’s not all that unusual.”
“After going through childbirth together, don’t you think it’s time you called me Quentin?”
She saluted that suggestion with a smile on her lips. “You did a good job tonight, Quentin. You have a good heart—for a former big-headed surgeon.”
He grinned. “And to be clear, I’m not complaining about the size of the crowd. It’s that we have such limited space here. I never realized it until tonight. Seeing patients in the daytime is one thing. Group care is quite another.”
She patted his shoulder. “You’ll manage. Somehow. Maybe we could add on a wing to the back.” At the way his eyes lit up, she chuckled. “Something tells me you’ll figure it out or come up with a way to fix the problem.”
Nine
Word got out fast that Quentin was open for business in place of Jack. People started dropping by the office bringing welcoming gifts. People like the five-star chef, Perry Altman, who owned the best restaurant in town called The Pointe, left a gift certificate—dinner for two at his trendy establishment—anytime at all.
Sandcastles Under the Christmas Moon (A Pelican Pointe Novel Book 9) Page 12
