P.S. You're a Daddy!

by Dianne Drake

  “Yes, I suppose we will have to see how it works out. In the meantime, I’m coming up behind you, so hold tight.”

  Startled that she’d been caught talking to Emily’s baby, she glanced over her shoulder to see exactly where he might be behind her and there he was, larger than life...a cowboy riding her way. Actually, galloping. On a horse. OK, so maybe not a real cowboy in the Western movie sense but he was certainly a doctor on a horse who gave her an unexpected chill. And he was also a big, imposing figure of a man. Jeans, T-shirt, boots. Sexy. “Other casualties?” he shouted, as he slid off the horse and ran straight towards her.

  Deanna shook herself out of her observation, out of the pure fascination that was overrunning her, displacing the fugitive fantasy with the reality. “Um...don’t know. We’ve got a car over the side, about two hundred yards back...” She pointed to the black skid marks snaking across the road for a hundred yard stretch. “And a truck. Don’t know anything about the driver. Haven’t had a chance to go over there to see him yet.”

  The doctor, Beau, crowded into the back seat of the car right behind her and nudged her forward most of the way to the opposite door then twisted around and proceeded to wedge himself between the back seat and the front. Doing his own assessments, as Deanna attempted to make herself more accessible to the boy, who’d curled even tighter into a ball.

  After mere seconds he sucked in a sharp breath, which Deanna heard, and understood.

  “How about we get the child out of here?” Beau asked. “There’s nothing here he needs to see.”

  Even though she had been prepared to hear the words, the implication hit her hard. “Both of them?” she asked.

  “Both of them.” He began to back out of the car, pulling his massive form out of the too-small space. “How about you? Are you OK in there?”

  “Don’t have a choice,” she said, as she began the struggle to lift the boy from the floor and at the same time assess him for injuries she might not have seen right off. The truth was, nothing about this was OK. But it wasn’t about her feelings or memories. Or any inherent fears she might have for what this child was about to face.

  “Then I’m going round to the truck. Janice Parsons, standing over at the minivan, said she’ll look after the boy if we need her to, so shout if you need anything else, OK?”

  If she needed anything else? She needed everything, including a way out of this. Her parents, Emily...it was all closing in around her. Smothering her. “Oh, and the dispatcher said she’d get the volunteer fire department out. But I don’t know how long that’s going to take.”

  “Too long,” Beau shouted, his voice diminishing even before his words were all out. “Damn problem with all of this. It always takes too long!”

  Deanna rose up and took a quick glance out the window, just enough to see him run behind the truck, and while she knew she wasn’t alone here, that’s how she felt. Amazing how twenty seconds crammed together in a car with him had bolstered her self-confidence.

  “So, is your name Tommy?” she asked the child, as she gently moved in to take his pulse. Strong, a little too fast. But he was scared. “Or Billy?” She wiggled her hand from his and brushed long, curly blond locks from his forehead, then took a look into his eyes as best she could. Pupils equal and reactive. “Or Porcupine?” Counted his respirations—normal.

  “Not Porcupine,” he finally said.

  She was so relieved to hear his voice. “If it’s not Porcupine, is it...Bulldog?”

  “Not Bulldog,” he said, tears welling up in his eyes.

  She began a gentle prodding of his limbs, no heightened pain sensitivity noted. Then his belly. Not rigid, no distension. “Kangaroo?” she asked, trying to move him slightly to his side to make sure nothing was sticking into him in any way, like shards of glass from the shattered windshield or objects that might have flown around the car. But he was clear of everything, and she was beginning to wonder if he’d been curled up on the floor of the car when this had happened. Maybe asleep?

  He whimpered something Deanna didn’t understand but which she took to be him asking for his mommy. Glancing over the seat to the lifeless form, she drew in a ragged breath. “Mommy needs to rest right now. So does Daddy. So I’m going to open this car then we’ll get out very quietly so we won’t disturb them. Will you help me do that, Kangaroo?”

  “Not Kangaroo.”

  “Is it Hippopotamus?” she asked, as she pushed on the car door then climbed out. “Or Walrus?”

  Leaning back in, she scooped the boy into her arms and lifted him away from the wreckage, taking great care to make sure his face was buried in her shoulder. What an awful thing, seeing your parents that way and having that memory linger as your last memory of them. Her parents had died this way, in a car wreck. But she hadn’t been in the car, and her very last recollection of them was the hugs and kisses they had given her when they’d dropped her off at her aunt and uncle’s house. Hugs, kisses, and I love yous shouted from the car window as they’d pulled away from the curb... “I personally like Cheetah, or Chimpanzee.”

  “It’s Lucas,” the child said, but so quietly it was more a muffled sob than a word.

  Did he know? Did he have some innate feeling that he’d just become an orphan? She hadn’t when it had happened to her. In fact, it had taken months to sink in, months in which she’d spent every minute she could with her face pressed to the window, watching for them to come back.

  Deanna didn’t know about Lucas, though. Didn’t know if he had an innate feeling, or just plain knew, because she didn’t know a thing about children. She’d never been around them except for a few mandatory clinical rotations through pediatrics, and she’d certainly never planned on having them herself. She’d never been struck with that maternal urge the way Emily had. While it had defined her cousin, it had eluded her. So motherhood had never been included in her life plan—a decision she’d been fine with.

  Of course, Emily’s baby changed all that. Still, she wasn’t consumed with an innate sense of motherhood the way she’d expected to be, the way she’d seen it in so many other women she’d known. The way Janice Parsons was when she bundled Lucas into her arms so protectively the instant Deanna handed him over to her.

  “I think he’s OK,” she said, a little envious of the way the boy went from her embrace to someone else’s so easily. Hadn’t she snuggled him the right way? “His name is Lucas, and I’ll have the doctor do another exam on him as soon as he can. In the meantime, if you could...”

  There was no sense in finishing the sentence. Janice’s mothering instincts were on full alert as she turned Lucas away from the wreckage. All that natural tendency—a beautiful thing to see, really. “Don’t give him anything to eat or drink,” she said, taking one last look at the boy then at Janice, envying the way she exuded motherliness from every pore.

  Would that ever be her?

  That thought plagued her as she ran over to the edge of the road where the guardrail was smashed and broken, then looked down. Thank God, the drop-off to the first ledged area was barely more than a hundred feet. Sure, it was a long distance if you were in the car going over it, but the distance was short enough that she was cautiously optimistic.

  “Hello,” she shouted. “Can anybody hear me?”

  The response was one staccato honk, which came as pure relief. But also frustration, knowing she couldn’t make that climb down. Thank heavens some kind of natural instinct had kicked in and kept her planted on terra firma, because her natural inclination would have had her over the side before she’d even given it a thought. She still wondered, though, if that instinct would be enough in the long term because, dear God, everything in her wanted her to go over that edge.

  “Help’s on the way,” she shouted, actually taking a step backwards. “Please, don’t move. And if you have a cellphone...” She called out her number and a
ctually stood there for a second, waiting for a call back. Which didn’t come. “I’m going to go get the doctor. We also have the fire department on the way. So don’t give up. We’re going to get you out of there in a few minutes.”

  “Truck driver’s wedged,” Beau said, the instant Deanna rounded the front of the truck. He was standing on the asphalt, looking through the windshield at the driver, who was stuck fast between the steering-wheel and the seat. “Internal injuries, some bleeding. Broken arm. Mangled leg...not sure if it can be saved. Head trauma but conscious. Strong possibility of hemorrhagic shock once we get him out. I can’t do anything about it until we have more help.

  “I’d stay in there with him but it’s too tight and I don’t want to risk slipping or moving the wrong way and hurting him more than he already is.”

  “We’ve got survivors in the car that went over,” she said, trying to sound positive.

  “Were you able to get down there?” he asked, his eyes glued to what was visible of the man in the truck.

  “No, but someone honked.”

  “So all we need is...”

  “Everything,” Deanna said. “All we need is everything.” She studied the man next to her for a moment. Mid-thirties, but with some lines etched in his face. Dark brown hair, a bit over the collar and wavy. Brown eyes. The kinds of things that would have been included on the sperm-donor card—had there been a donor card. But in addition to the sperm switch, the donor card had gone missing.

  What wouldn’t have been described on that card, though, was the kindness she saw in his eyes. From that, she was drawn in immediately. Not that his good looks alone couldn’t have done it but those were an added bonus, gave her some hope for the way Emily’s child might look. “My name is Deanna Lambert. But I’m betting you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  He smiled, although he didn’t even glance in her direction. “You’re renting a cabin here for a month to do some medical writing. Live in New York City otherwise.”

  “And my zodiac sign?”

  He chuckled. “Give me ten more minutes and I’ll not only tell you your zodiac sign, I’ll describe your high-school graduation in detail.”

  “That bad here?” she asked.

  “Or good, depending on your point of view. The people here describe it as caring and, for the most part, I think that’s right.” Finally, he glanced at her, but for only a second. “I’m Beau Alexander, by the way. Local and possibly temporary doctor, aspiring horse breeder, mender of fences.”

  She’d known who he was, but hearing the name—from him—still shocked her, made her reason for being here even more real. Scared her, too. Most of all it made her feel sad, thinking about the way such a happy pregnancy was turning out. “I think I may be renting the cabin above your ranch.”

  “Above the Clouds. Nice view. Been up there a couple of—”

  His words were cut off by the ringing of Deanna’s cellphone, and without thinking she clicked it on. Listened for a second. Drew in a deep breath. “It’s the people in the car,” she said to Beau.

  “What?”

  “I gave them my cellphone number in case they wanted to call me. So they’re calling.”

  “Damn,” he muttered, impressed with her resourcefulness. More than that, impressed with everything he’d seen of her so far. “Good thinking.”

  “Only thing that came to mind. So, do you want to do this?”

  He shook his head. “Got to stay focused on the driver, and I have to go back into the truck as soon as the fire department shows up and can keep the door open for me.” The distant wail of several sirens caused him to sigh in relief.

  “They’re at Turner’s Points now...you can tell by the echo. Turner’s is the first place in the canyon that catches the sound like that. And it means they’ll be here in about five minutes.” He ran up to the truck windshield and gave the man a thumbs-up then turned back to Deanna, who was already on her way back to the side of the road where the car had gone over.

  “Deanna,” he shouted to her, “direct the medical end of the rescue when they get here, because when I get back into the truck I’m not getting out until after my patient does.” Meaning he was going to have to wedge himself into a damned uncomfortable spot practically underneath the man, and stay put. He had to brace the man’s leg, hopefully apply some kind of a splint, before they could move him, and at the same time keep his fingers crossed that the driver would survive the efforts to cut him out of there.

  He glanced back at her, watched the way she instructed the paramedics who’d just arrived. He observed her body language, her no-nonsense stance, and liked her instantly. He wished he could have someone like her working alongside him every day.

  “Hire someone like Deanna,” he grunted, more to himself than out loud as he hauled himself up the side of the truck after two firefighters had dismantled the door for him and tossed it down on the road like it weighed no more than a plastic water bottle.

  “Couldn’t hurt,” he said under his breath as he reached the top then started to lower himself back inside. “Might even help.”

  Considering the way he and his grandfather were battling over how to run a medical practice, he was pretty sure that having someone capable like Deanna involved would be another of the old man’s objections. But Beau had to have his say in the matter if he was going to stay here permanently. And having a nurse or a medical assistant seemed like a good idea.

  He’d known her for only a few minutes yet he wanted Deanna. Snap judgment and right fit, he believed. But he’d heard she was only renting for a month, which meant she wasn’t staying in Sugar Creek. So now the problem was that Deanna had become the only person who flitted across his mind’s eye when he thought about hiring another staffer. And she was such a nice fit he wasn’t sure how to alter that image.

  “Well, Mack, this ought to be pretty easy, once I get you splinted up,” he said, trying to sound optimistic in order to bolster the truck driver’s spirits.

  “Don’t think it’s going to be easy, Doc. But I’m willing to give it a try. Need to be home later...wife’s having a few friends over for dinner. It’s my granddaughter’s fifth birthday. Don’t want to miss that.”

  “Just one granddaughter?” Beau asked, looking through the windshield at Deanna, still admiring what he saw. Striking woman. Tall. Hair the color of honey. Very subdued, though. Here, in the middle of this accident, showing so much command, she had such a sense of calmness about her. It baffled him because, as experienced as he was as a surgeon, he was still feeling the adrenalin rush.

  “Just the one.” he said. “Got a grandson, though, who just turned two. You a family man, Doc? You got kids?”

  “Nope. Had a wife for a while. It didn’t work out. Glad now we didn’t get around to having children because she was...” he did a quick visual assessment of Mack as he climbed past him then lowered himself to a position almost underneath him “...selfish. And that’s being kind.” Pulling a flashlight from his pocket, he looked at the man’s leg for a second time. Definitely a fractured tibia. Not mangled but also not good.

  “Married her for her looks, got what I deserved because when you got past the looks all that was there was pure, unadulterated selfishness.” For all intents and purposes.

  “That bad, eh, Doc?”

  “Bad doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Beau said, shifting position but trying to keep well away from his patient. Outside, he could hear the noise level increasing, multiple voices shouting. “Next time...” He drew in a shuddering breath. “No next time. At least, not for a long, long time.”

  Mack chuckled then sucked in a sharp breath. “I got lucky the first time out,” he said, his voice noticeably weaker than it had been even a minute before. “Married the perfect woman, had thirty-five good years so far. Hoping I’ll have a few...” Another gasp for air. “A few more
.”

  I hope so too, Beau said to himself as a blanket dropped down from the door opening.

  “Cover you two up,” the burly voice shouted. “Windshield’s coming out next.”

  Seconds after that the windshield had gone, and Beau was amazed by the speed with which everything was happening. He’d never worked a rescue from this end of it, and he wondered how many times over the years his grandfather had been called on to do something like this. It was a side of Brax he’d never considered, and he felt embarrassed that he hadn’t. “Need a splint in here,” he called. “And MAST trousers.”

  “What can I do from out here?” Deanna yelled to him from just beyond the front of the truck. “I’ve got rescuers setting up to go over the side right now to help the people in the car, and I’m not needed there until they bring them up. So what can I do for you in the meantime?”

  “Oxygen, IV set-up...fast fluids.”

  “Already got them set up.”

  “Possible field amp.” No way he was going to say “amputation” where the patient could hear, but if internal injuries didn’t turn into an issue, the mangled leg might. “You OK with that?” he asked.

  “Sure, I’m OK. I’ll get everything together,” she said, turning and running back to the rescue truck.

  “She’s a pretty one, too, Doc,” Mack said, his voice almost gone now. “Better watch out.”

  Mack was right. Deanna was already fascinating him way more than she should. “Look, Mack, this is going to be a little tricky because of the way you’re wedged in. Your right leg is pretty bad, and you might have a fractured pelvis. Not sure what we’re going to do about those yet because I think you could also have some internal bleeding going on because of the way the steering-wheel is shoved into your belly.”

  He glanced up as one of the medics fresh to the scene dangled into the door opening, endeavoring to take the driver’s blood pressure. “Since you’re pressed so tight against the wheel, it’s serving as a pressure bandage of sorts, keeping the blood circulating to your vital organs. But once the wheel is removed, there’s a good chance you’re going to experience a major internal hemorrhage.” A mild understatement as once he was unwedged, the fight would be on to save him.