Healing The Doctor's Heart. Shirley HailstockЧитать онлайн книгу.
your toes in the future.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” Jake said.
“I’m sure you do,” she contradicted. “So why don’t we start with the arm?”
She knew he didn’t want to tell her about his accident. Maybe if she started with a lesser question, she could coax him into opening up.
“What did Cal tell you?” he said just as she was about to ask another question.
“That you were a surgeon and because of an accident a few years ago you can no longer move your right hand or arm.” That hadn’t been all Caleb had said, but Lauren wanted Jake to tell her his version.
“I was at a medical conference in France. It was made up mainly of trauma surgeons. During a break, a few of us were heading for lunch at a local restaurant. Just before we got there” He stopped talking and walking. Jake took a step away from her, their linked arms dropping in the process.
Lauren knew he was reliving the trauma. She could almost feel the lump in his throat. She wanted to give him some instructions on how to stop the memory, but she couldn’t. She’d already told him why she knew how to massage as well as she did. That was the truth, but advising him on how to calm the memories of a trauma could tip him off that she knew more about medicine than a kindergarten teacher should.
After a moment, he resumed his story. “Terrorists happened next. A car plowed into a group of people on the street and detonated a bomb. I was one of the lucky ones. The concussion wave threw me against a building. The crush of bodies pinned me there until I couldn’t breathe. When I woke, I was in a hospital. My shoulder and three ribs were broken. All have healed, except my arm.” He looked down at the immobile limb.
“And you’ve been to a lot of doctors?”
“The best in the world,” he said sardonically. “Cal saw to that, but no matter what they say, I still can’t move my arm.”
“It’s not permanently injured?”
He looked her directly in the eyes. For a second his gaze showed vulnerability. He was afraid. The air around them seemed to change. It softened just as his eyes had.
“I don’t know.” His voice was barely louder than a whisper.
Lauren held his gaze although she wanted to look away. I don’t know. He sounded like he could see into the future and that his arm would remain as it was today: in a sling against his shirt, without strength, mobility or usefulness.
The atmosphere turned maudlin and Lauren searched for a way to change it. She stepped closer to him and placed a hand on his arm.
“You resisted giving me a cliché when I told you about my mother,” she said. “Allow me to return the favor.”
His head dropped down a fraction.
“I won’t say your arm will be better in the future, but” She paused, knowing her next words could make the situation go either way. “It’s not the end of your world, is it?”
“I’m a surgeon.” His voice carried. Looking around, he checked to see if anyone noticed. No one paid any attention to them.
“I know you’re a surgeon and you spent a lot of years in school honing your skills but there are other things you can do.”
“Like what?”
“Teach,” she said.
“This coming from a kindergarten teacher.”
“Don’t knock it. A lot of people taught you and I’m sure you credit at least one of them with helping you become a talented surgeon.”
He said nothing, yet a perplexed expression crossed his face. Lauren went on. “You could write.”
“With one hand.”
“If necessary, but you could use a voice recognition program and hire an editor to make it readable.”
“You don’t think I can write?”
Lauren wondered if Jake was entertaining thoughts that he might do something else. His knowledge was still there. His dexterity might be impaired, but his mind was sharp. Of that she could attest.
“Most doctors can’t. All they write are prescriptions.”
“What would I write about?”
“Is that a trick question?” Lauren glared at him as if he was baiting her. Assuming that he wasn’t, she answered. “You’re a doctor. Write about medicine. Or write about your arm.”
“A journal?”
“You could start with a journal and graduate to full books. Of course, a journal is personal. Writing one might help you.”
“Do you keep a journal?”
“Not now,” she said slowly.
“But in the past?” He left the sentence hanging.
“I did once.” This time her voice was barely audible. “For a long time.”
“Why?”
“Listen, I know from where I speak.” She stopped him from delving into her life. She was his companion. He was not hers.
“I’ll think about it,” he finally said.
She heard no conviction in his voice. He was placating her. They walked on. Although his face gave nothing away, Lauren wanted him to focus on something other than his arm and the pain. She’d seen it happen in her pediatric patients. When she allowed them to play with the toys in her office and she asked them questions about what they were doing, they didn’t focus on anything that hurt. Grown-ups weren’t much different.
Jake was an enigma. She couldn’t tell if he was bitter or just lost.
THE MOMENT LAUREN was alone, she called Amy Reynolds, her best friend and purveyor of all things. The two had known each other since Lauren opened her practice and hired Amy as her head nurse. Whenever a kid needed a hug or a toy, Amy seemed to find it within her arms or behind her back. It was uncanny how she could come up with the exact thing the child needed.
It also didn’t hurt that Amy was in charge of office Christmas presents. All the staff loved her and her ability to find what was needed when it was needed.
“Lauren,” she said when she answered her phone. “I’ve been thinking about you. How are things going?”
“They’re a little tense at the moment.”
“Not doing so good with the doctor?” she asked.
Amy was the only person who knew Lauren was working for renowned surgeon Dr. Jacob Masters. She’d been sworn to secrecy.
“You sound good though,” Amy said.
“Thanks.”
Amy didn’t have to say it. Lauren knew how she felt and how she sounded when the two parted after she sold the practice. Amy had tried to cheer her up the same way Lauren was trying to get Jake to return to the world. It just hit Lauren that the two of them were similar in that respect. Both she and Jake had had traumas to their lives and both had retreated into themselves. Lauren was by no means over hers, but her clean start in another city was her plan to get her life back on track.
“So what’s going on?” Amy cut into her thoughts.
“I need you to get me something and I need it tomorrow.”
“That sounds mysterious. What is it?”
“A traditional upper-crust nanny’s outfit, complete with straw hat, umbrella and carpetbag.”
“What? Why?”