Career Girl in the Country / The Doctor's Reason to Stay (26 page)

“Good. Now listen. Most of the time you’ll be able to hear it pretty easily. Sometimes, in about two to three percent of healthy people, the sound can’t be heard in one or both legs, though. Pump up the cuff like you would in the arm, and listen.”

Which was exactly what she did. “Ninety-four over fifty-six,” she said, then heard an audible sigh of relief from Rafe.

“Time’s up. Everybody out!” Brassard yelled. Edie and Rafe both ignored the warning. “A little low but, all things considered, not bad,” he finally
said, as he reached over Edie and took the cuff and equipment. “Now, the next thing we need to do is pack some gauze around her abdominal would to make sure nothing moves.” He handed several wads of gauze over to her. “Just be gentle. Build up enough around the metal bar so we reduce the risk of bumping it when we finally pull her out of there, then tape the gauze into place.”

“I said, get out!” Brassard yelled.

“I like my job a whole lot better than I like yours,” she said, placing the first of the gauze. Her fingers trembled, her gut churned. She bit down on her lower lip, concentrating so hard she could taste her own blood. “How will I know if it’s good enough?”

Rafe gave her a little squeeze on the arm. “It’ll be good enough, Edie. Trust me, you’ll do a good job.” His squeeze was a squeeze of triumph, maybe of relief … whatever it was, it caused her confidence to soar. Rafe was definitely in charge here, and one way or another, he would make things work for April.

“Get the hell out of there!” Brassard yelled again. “Right now, or I’m sending in one of my men!”

They both ignored him again. “Well, I think I’ve got as much gauze taped in as I can. What’s next?”

“What’s next is that I’m going to go out and let Chief Brassard know he can’t start cutting. Not the van, not.” He nodded toward April. “I’m going to persuade him to give us more time. You going to be OK in here for a minute?”

“We’ll be fine,” Edie said, wiggling into a more comfortable position, grateful she wasn’t spooked by cramped spaces, because this was about as cramped as she’d even been in any space. Cramped and now dark.

“What’s it looking like in there?” Rick asked even before Rafe was all the way out.

“Child’s stable. Talking. Scared, but Edie’s handling that. Haven’t been able to evaluate her arm yet, but she does have some kind of a rod stuck through her belly, and as there’s no significant bleeding to go with it, I’m thinking tamponade.”

A diagnosis that caused Rick to suck in a sharp breath. “Well, I’ll get the OR ready for that one. And her arm …”

Rafe shrugged. “Don’t know enough to give an educated guess at this point. But what I need for you to do is hold off the fire department for me. Don’t know how, don’t care, but there’s no way in hell I want them taking that van apart, not when I’ve got a kid in there with a rod through her belly. And she’s too alert to take off her arm, especially when I don’t think it needs to come off. We need to find a way to get her out without jostling her, and while I know the guys out here are doing the best they can, there’s got to be another way.”

“Done,” Rick said. “Anything else?”

“More light, if we can manage it.”

“Done,” Rick repeated.

Rafe would have asked for more space, but it didn’t matter. For now he was stuck with a good case of claustrophobia, and there was nothing he could do about it. “Oh, and while I don’t see anything to indicate it, prepare for crush syndrome, just in case. I have an idea we may get lucky with that one, but I don’t want to get everything else right and have that go wrong on us.” A smile twinkled in his eyes. “Oh, and if you have to cite crush syndrome to the fire chief as a reason why we
can’t
rush getting April out of there, do it.” Crush
syndrome was where an extremity or other part of the body that has been trapped for a long time could start causing other problems throughout the body with the release of dangerous chemicals at high levels. Shock at the immediate release was almost always a given. Kidney failure could result, as well as death. It was a little devious using that because he was fairly certain April didn’t have it, but any excuse in a storm. And crush syndrome was a good excuse. “Also, since I have every confidence that you’re going to buy us more time, I’d like to get an IV started in April before we do
anything”
A tall order for a limited space. It was going to be a challenge.

“I’ll get the supplies ready to go in. Oh, and Jess called. He hadn’t heard from you, and his phone clicked off. Said to call him when it’s over.” He started to turn away from Rafe, but turned back. “I thought about it, by the way.”

“What?”

“The apology, the offer.”

“Now’s a hell of a time to bring it up,” Rafe said. “Especially if you want to negotiate something.”

“No negotiation. Accepted. All of it.”

In response, Rafe arched his eyebrows. “Light sedative, too,” he said, then spun round and went straight back to the van.

“I think we need a better vantage point,” Edie called out to him. “The extra lights are good, but I think we need to have a look at her arm, and do it from somewhere between the seat and the floor?”

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” he said, gritting his teeth, knowing that he was going to have to shove himself into an opening where he didn’t fit. “Look, Edie,” he
began once he was back in the van, “there’s something I’ve got to tell you … something I hope to God doesn’t cause any problems here.” He paused a second, then continued. “I’m claustrophobic.” “A lot of people are.”

“Not like me. I’m claustrophobic to the point of panic attacks. My old man used to lock me in a closet. Made me spend hours there. On a couple of occasions, days. Most of the time I’m OK dealing with it, but in tight spaces …”

Edie rolled over and squeezed Rafe’s hand. “We’ll deal with it,” she said.

And that was all she had to say, because he knew they would. Together.

“It feels like the walls of hell are closing in on me,” Rafe panted, slithering his way into a tiny space at the back of the seat. He couldn’t see, didn’t really fit, was sweating in a way he’d never sweated before, and holding his breath in such long spurts his lungs were beginning to hurt. His lip was bleeding from biting down so hard, his muscles already aching from extreme clenching, and the panic headache pummeling him had such a loud, thumping beat to it he was surprised Edie couldn’t hear it. But after five minutes he’d cut away significant snippets of seat, and for that he was relieved. April was still doing well. Sleeping now, with an IV anchored in her leg, and a small amount of sedative to keep her relaxed.

“You OK?” Edie asked for the hundredth time.

“I’d rather be eating a baguette at Le Pain Merveilleux in Paris. But as that’s not an option, I’m doing fine.”

“You’ve been to Paris?”

He reached up to cut away another strip of seat vinyl then rose up and shone a light down into the seat’s exposed innards. “Twice. The first time was all work, no play. Medical conference. Second time I decided that all work really wasn’t the best thing to be doing in Paris, so I indulged in some of the finer things … the wine, the museums, the food …”

“The women?” she asked.

He chuckled. “As lovely as the women of Paris are, and they are some of the most beautiful in the world, I decided to make it an adventure for one. It’s easier that way. No one to fight with over where to go or what to do. No one to tell me when to take a nap if I wanted one, or not to drink so much wine, if that’s what I had a mind to do. Doing Paris as a single really wasn’t so bad,” he said, pulling himself into a better angle and fighting off the panic that wanted to slap him down the instant he realized he was stuck in there as tight as humanly possible, with nowhere to go, or even move, unless he wanted to back out. At this point, he was in so tight he wasn’t sure he could even do that.

“But wouldn’t it have been wonderful to do Paris with someone you loved, someone you could share the adventure with, who didn’t care about your naps, or drinking too much wine?”

“Maybe,” he said, feeling an increase in his heart rate, feeling the tightening of his muscles, as each and every one started clamping down on him in some kind of conspiracy. No air to breathe … He tried, sucked it in greedily. Shut his eyes, tried to focus. “If that person … existed. But she … doesn’t. At least not … for … me.”

“So you’re an avowed bachelor?” she continued. “I
mean, I understand the no-dating thing. But no nothing? Not ever?”

“Something like that,” he forced out, sounding winded.

“But wouldn’t an avowed bachelor still like some consistency in his life? Maybe not in the form of a wife, or even a permanent adult relationship, but what about a child? They keep you young, you know. Change your focus. Give you balance. Make you more giving, I think.”

Why the hell was she prattling on about this now? He was in the throes of a damned panic attack, and she was starting up on him adopting Molly.

“Can you even imagine the sense of accomplishment you could feel once you’ve raised that child, and she’s turned out to do something huge, like invent the drug that will cure cancer, or teach the world how to achieve global peace? I mean, one little child, in the right home situation, with the right parent, could do so much …”

He shut his eyes for a moment, reined in his anger. She had him trapped—now she was doing the hard adoption sell. “I can’t raise Molly, if that’s what this is about. I’ve told you that. I can’t …
won
‘t
do it.”

“Even though you’re bound to be desperately lonely in your old age, considering the way you isolate yourself?”

“My choice. I isolate myself because that’s what I choose to do.”

“And who knows how you’d feel if you opened up a little, took Molly in, raised her as your daughter? She’s a wonderful little girl, Rafe. Give yourself some time to get to know her, and I promise you’ll see how
fantastic she is. She’ll make you better in ways you’ve never thought could happen.”

He glanced down into the seat parts and saw … was that April’s hand? Quickly, he shifted slightly and repositioned the flashlight for a better look. “I know she’s a wonderful little girl, and I know that adopting her is what everyone wants me to do, but.” He pressed himself tighter into the seat until the edge of it nearly cut off his breathing. “I see it,” he said. “Her hand, her arm … I can see the whole thing. And. Thank God for small miracles. Her arm is fine. It’s only her hand that’s trapped, and I think. Hand me the oil, Edie.”

She handed him a bottle of lubricant that had come in with several other medical supplies then positioned a flashlight from her place down below. “I’ve got the IV steady, and I’m holding on to April, supporting her belly so that metal rod doesn’t move, so do what you have to do.”

Which was what he did. He maneuvered April’s hand out of its trap. Gently released each of her fingers, one by one, then moved on down the hand until he’d finally extricated her wrist. No words spoken, no whispers, no gasps. Simply swift efficiency when it was clear what was required of him to assure that April Crowley’s life was going to go forward beautifully, after a fair amount of reconstructive surgery and rehabilitation.

Five minutes after extricating April’s arm, he handed her out to the waiting medics, the metal bar still holding its place in her belly, then crawled out himself and collapsed on the ground, grateful to inhale unobstructed breaths, grateful for all the open space around him.

“You OK?” Edie asked, plopping down beside him. For a moment they were two people lying flat on the ground, staring up at the night sky, while the rest of the medical emergency whirled on around them. The only two people.

“Fine,” he said. “You?”

“What we did in there, Rafe … I can’t even …”

“No words to describe it?”

“No words.”

But actions spoke louder than words as he reached across and took hold of Edie’s hand, then simply held it for the next minute or two. Or for an eternity. It all seemed the same right then. And it all seemed very good.

OK,
IT WAS
only a kiss. Well, maybe a little more than a kiss. Or something on the way to becoming a whole lot more. He’d kissed plenty of women in his time, no big deal. But two days after the bus accident, two grueling days of taking care of a sick little girl who didn’t want to stay in bed or follow doctor’s orders, and that kiss was still on his mind. That made it a big deal, didn’t it?

The heck of it was he didn’t know why. Or maybe he didn’t want to dig deeply enough to find out why. Either way, he was grateful for the routine his life had settled into in the interim. Take care of Molly, rest, take care of Molly. For someone sick, she sure had a lot of energy. Even though Edie had warned him, he hadn’t expected it, didn’t know what to do with it and, in so many profound ways, it scared him. This child needed so much, and in ways he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

In his defense, amidst his obvious lack of parenting skills, he hadn’t run short of patience yet. That surprised him. But some of that had to do with Edie, who stopped by before work every day, and had spent the evenings there after her workday had ended. She’d cooked, read to Molly, played games. It was a sight
to behold, a glimpse of life he’d never before seen. Family life at its best. Which simply reaffirmed to him who needed to be a family. At times, though, when he caught himself observing that family life too closely, his realization turned to cold chills. Could this be what he really wanted?

Reality always slammed back. This
wasn’t
his life. Couldn’t be. He wasn’t going to let himself buy in to some ridiculous delusion that he could ever have it, because that wasn’t meant to be the case. He was his father’s son, after all. Corbett blood at its very worst. No getting around it. “French toast?” he asked Edie. “Is that what you’re fixing?”

“Molly requested it, along with fresh strawberries.”

“Do you think she might be taking advantage of this situation? I know she’s been sick, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she should be wrapping you round her little finger.”

“And if she is, does it matter?” Edie arranged the strips of toast on a plate, then put the plate on a serving tray. “We all need to be indulged sometimes, Rafe. Too bad most of us only get it in some kind of a crisis. And as far as being wrapped round her little finger, I don’t think that’s really possible if you enjoy what you’re doing for someone.”

“Well, I’m not sure being overly indulgent is the best thing to do. Most of us never get it at all. But then the other side of that coin is who really needs it? It spoils us for something we can’t have all the time. Or in some cases won’t have ever again. Why put yourself through that emotional mess”

“Emotional mess? How do you consider that being indulged a little leads to an emotional mess?”

“Because being indulged leads to expectations, most of which can’t ever be met. At least not on practical or consistent terms. So call it pragmatism if you want. Or pessimism. Either way, the result is the same. I mean, what’s the definition of indulgence anyway? To take unrestrained pleasure in? To gratify? If you want it, do it. It’s just that easy. Well, guess what? You don’t have to depend on someone else to do it for you. In fact, why bother? They may not meet your expectations or needs, so just go and indulge yourself.”

“Sounds like someone needs some indulging himself,” Edie responded. “Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“What I need is my life back. Not this pseudo-domesticity.” Because the closer he came to domestic, the more he wanted it. And the more he wanted it, the more he knew he couldn’t have it. Which was why he was grumpy this morning, the side of the bed on which he’d woken up notwithstanding. Seeing Edie in the kitchen, fixing breakfast for Molly, seeming so happy in that place … all he wanted to do was shove his fist through the wall. Which proved that his old man could get through any time, any place. With so little provocation, too. “I need to find Molly a family then go home and get back to doing what I do best. It’s as simple as that.”

“Is it really that simple, Rafe? Giving up a child seems anything but simple to me. In fact, I think it’ll be the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do … if you really intend to go through with it.”

“Oh, I intend to.” He drew in a deep, steadying breath in the hope of warding off some of the agitation that seemed to be filling him up. “And, Edie? Just so
you’ll know, what’s simple is the desire. The rest of it is getting pretty damned complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it. Adopt her.”

“Well, isn’t that just a wealth of insightful advice. Adopt her and do what? Tell me, Edie. What, exactly, should I do with Molly once I adopt her? I won’t have time for her. So maybe I can shuffle her off to boarding school. And I don’t have experience with children. So maybe I can hire her a full-time nanny, governess, tutor or whatever other kinds of child-care specialists money can buy to raise her the right way. Are either of those acceptable solutions? Because they’re all I have. And just so you’ll notice, neither one of those come with a full investment of me, because I’m really not adding much of myself to the deal.” Damn, he didn’t mean to snap at her, didn’t mean to be so grumpy. And he certainly wouldn’t do any of the things he’d just said. But he couldn’t get Edie to see the situation for what it was. And right now, existing so close to everything he truly wanted yet wasn’t able to have was taking its toll on him. Two days of playing father had made him realize he wanted it probably more than anything he’d ever wanted. But two days had also reminded him why he had to back away. And fast.

“I was right. You do need some indulging.”

He’d expected another fight from her, but got sympathy instead. He wasn’t sure what to do with that. Wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. “Look, I’m sorry for snapping. I’m sorry for being so disagreeable. But this whole domestic thing … it’s not working for me.”

“Or it’s working too well. Have you ever considered that?”

He stared at her for a moment, amazed by the insight
and annoyed by it at the same time. To have someone read him the way Edie did made him feel so vulnerable he was almost shaking. He wasn’t going to be vulnerable, not to anyone, for any reason. That was the way it was, the way it had to be. “Look, you need to get to work. How about I take this tray up to Molly so you won’t be late?”

“You really work hard at keeping people at arm’s length, don’t you?” She handed him the tray. “I don’t think it comes naturally to you, Rafe. I think you want to let people in, but once they get close, you get scared.”

“So, with French toast I get psychoanalysis, whether or not I want it?”

“Point taken. It’s none of my business.”

She was right, though. He did keep people at a distance. Even people he wanted to let in, like her. “Look, Edie. I really appreciate all the help you’ve been with Molly these past couple of days, and I’m sorry about my rotten attitude. It gets away from me sometimes.”

“It’s not as rotten as you think, Rafe. More like, it’s honest. I don’t necessarily agree with you, pretty much in most things that concern Molly, even in some of the things you think about yourself. But we’re all welcome to our opinions, aren’t we? No matter how right or wrong they may be.”

He chuckled. “And that implies that my attitude is wrong?”

She tossed him a cheery smile. “It implies whatever you want to make of it. Now, go and take care of Molly.”

She’d shooed him out the kitchen door before he could respond in a semi-intelligent way, but there was
something about being around Edie that caught him off guard more than he wanted to be. And by the time Molly had eaten as much of her breakfast as she cared to, Edie appeared upstairs with another tray bearing a plate of French toast and a bowl of strawberries. “Rafey needs someone to indulge him,” she said to Molly, who was already involved in a video game.

Molly looked up at him. “Do you?” she asked, as if she totally understood what that meant.

“What I need has nothing to do with being indulged,” he said, “and as you get older, and have more experience in life, you’ll understand how meaningless it is. The indulgence lasts a minute, maybe two, then you’re right back where you started, with a couple of minutes you’ll never be able to get back again. And a longing that may never be satisfied.”

“But it has French toast with it,” Molly argued. “And Edie makes the best French toast ever!”

Something in Molly’s simplicity struck a chord with him. Or made his position seem awfully rigid. “So, do you think I ought to go indulge myself?” he asked.

Molly nodded. “But only if you like French toast.”

In a way, it made perfect sense to him. And as he crossed the room to take the tray from Edie, she shook her head.

“Not here. This morning you get breakfast in bed. The ultimate of all indulgences.”

“Why?” he asked, clearly puzzled by the attention.

“Because you never have. Because it’s time.”

She was right. He’d never had breakfast in bed. There was no reason to when a quick cup of coffee and a muffin from one of the hordes of coffee shops would suffice. “Why is it time?” he asked, intrigued.

“When I was young, I loved making breakfast and serving it in bed to my mother. Especially when she wasn’t sick. I think it made her feel like she was special, like she really mattered. Like she wasn’t a burden to me. And it always seemed to bring us a little closer. Taking care of other people does that, Rafe. It’s who I am. So, which bedroom is yours?”

“You’re serious about this?”

“I sliced every one of these strawberries myself. That makes me pretty darned serious, don’t you think?”

Serious, and sexy, and more frightening than he’d bargained for. Because, for the first time in his life, he wanted that breakfast in bed, wanted to be indulged. Maybe because he knew it was a genuine, generous offer and not one that could come back to bite him in some unknown way.

Leading Edie to the bedroom he was using, he stopped short of the door and turned to face her. “My father would offer a cookie, or a candy bar, or some other thing that a little boy would truly want, then he’d tell me to come and take it from his hand. ‘Come on, Rafe. You can do it. Just take this cookie.’ Sometimes he’d give it to me, and sometimes he’d hit me. The hell of it was, I never could tell what he was going to do. After so many years of his abuse, you’d have thought I could figure it out, but …”

“But you were always that little boy who hoped his dad would hand him the cookie and never hit him again. I’m so sorry …”

He shook his head. “It made me stronger.”

“And less trusting.”

“But don’t
you
have a motive with this French toast?

Be nice to me, indulge me a little, and maybe weaken my position on what I’m going to do with Molly? You may not slap me, Edie, but what’s the difference?”

“The difference is, sometimes a nice gesture is just that … a nice gesture. I’m sorry you got slapped, Rafe, but I wasn’t the one who slapped you.” She shoved the tray at him. “I think maybe I shouldn’t come back any more. When Molly’s allowed out of the house, I’d like to spend some time with her. Not like this, though.” She turned, and walked out the door. In the hall, however, she stopped, and turned back to face him. “Sometimes French toast is just French toast, Rafe. And yours is cold now.” Then, spinning on her heel, she marched away.

It hadn’t been a good parting and, truthfully, she missed him. Missed Molly, too. But she’d stepped over the line. Gotten involved where she shouldn’t have, and now she had to live with the outcome. Meaning she’d let Grace down in a huge way. She should have stayed detached, shouldn’t have kissed him, or made him that silly French toast. But she had, and that was that. No going back. Rafe was going to do what he wanted and she was no longer involved with any of it. Or with him. In fact, this morning, when she’d mustered the courage to call him, he hadn’t even bothered answering. Or returning a call later on. And now, at the end of the day, she was no longer jumping on each and every incoming call, hoping it was him.

“Why the glum expression?” Rick asked, in passing. “Your day’s over. I’d think you’d be happy to leave here.”

“Just reflecting on all the mistakes I’ve made in my life.”

He chuckled. “Well, after you’ve reflected on yours, if you need a few more to work out, come see me. I’ve got a pretty long list, topped by a couple of whoppers.”

“The thing is, when you’re involved in the act that ultimately turns out to be a mistake, you can’t see that it’s a mistake. You go into it clear-headed, plunge all the way through it, and it’s only when you come out on the other end that you realize what you’ve done. Good intentions aside, wouldn’t it be smarter if people didn’t get so involved in things that didn’t concern them?”

“Smarter, maybe. But wouldn’t it be a dull life if we didn’t get involved, from time to time, where we shouldn’t? It’s a growing experience, Edie. Sometimes good growth, sometimes difficult growth.”

“Well, maybe I’m not in the growing mood.”

“Then you should stay locked in your office. Text or email only when necessary and, for heaven’s sake, don’t answer your phone.”

In spite of her bad mood, she laughed. He was right, of course. “Look, I didn’t mean to dump my problems on you.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I was the one who commented on your glum expression. You know, getting involved in a place I probably don’t belong. But on the off chance that I might be able to help you work out this mistake you think you’ve made, can I?”

“Maybe the better question is, can I?” Could she simply walk up to Rafe’s door, tell him she would back off? Tell him that Molly was his decision and she was no longer going to interfere?

“Well, whatever you do, tell Rafe to call me. I need
to finish up some paperwork about his involvement in the rescue the other day, and get him to sign off on it. But he’s not answering his phone.” “Not for you, either?”

“Rafe … he’s the big mistake you’re talking about, isn’t he?”

“What makes you think that? We’re barely friends. I hardly know him.” Even as she said the words, she felt the blush creeping to her cheeks.