Married in Haste. Roz Fox Denny
Abby curled her fingers around Ben’s solid wrist. Something she’d found immensely attractive about Ben from the outset—his masculine hands. Some doctors had effeminate hands, she’d noticed. Not Ben Galloway. She could as easily see him paddling a kayak in an open sea, or tossing a log on a burning campfire. Yet his touch was gentle the few times she’d seen him cradle a baby or wipe away an older sibling’s tears.
“I’ll never be able to express how much it means to me that you were here when I most needed someone, Ben. In a way, you were an answer to my prayer.”
“Don’t.” He dropped his hands away from her face. “We can talk later. For now, it’s enough to know we’re both okay.”
“Right. I need to see how Sam is. I can’t believe I forgot to ask what kind of surgery he’s having. He’s so little. Oh, Ben! None of this seems real. I know it’ll all crash in on me when I least expect it. Right now, I feel as if I’m operating in a fog.”
He placed his hand on her back, and guided Abby out of the dim chapel. “I know where my father is operating. There’s a small waiting room in the wing. If you’ll take a seat, I’ll go see what I can find out for you.”
“Please.” Abby might have said more, but her throat tightened again.
As it turned out, Ben’s father had just stepped out of the surgery theater, a nurse informed Ben when he inquired. They spotted the elder Galloway, his surgical mask still dangling around his neck. He walked soundlessly toward them on blue booties. Impassive gray eyes surveyed his son. “What brings you to my neck of the woods? Aren’t you the one who insists they work your butt off in munch-kin land?”
“I know nothing’s quite as important or glamorous as what you do with bones,” Ben said edgily. “Rather than argue, let me introduce Abby Drummond. She’s the aunt of the boy you had in surgery.”
“Have in surgery. We’re at the halfway mark. My assistant is setting some of the minor bones.” The doctor’s demeanor changed abruptly as he paused to study Abby. Which was only fair, as she also assessed him. Any similarity between him and his son ended with the comparable height and breadth of their shoulders. What struck Abby about Kirk Galloway was that he seemed to be a man attempting to recapture his youth. His tan was far too dark, both his hair and mustache shouted salon blond.
“Ms. Drummond.” He clasped Abby’s hand between soft, perfectly groomed fingers. His professional charm clicked in automatically. “You’re lucky, my dear, that Benjamin phoned me. I assume he’s told you I handle only the most difficult cases. After surgery I’ll give you a rundown on the new technique I’m using on Sam. It’s one I developed while on tour in Vienna last year.”
Realizing he hadn’t released her hand, Abby jerked hers away. “You’re only half done with Sam?” Her stomach rolled. “I’ll…have to make a call. To arrange care for his brothers.”
Ben grabbed his father’s elbow. “Would you excuse us a moment, please, Abby? Kirk, we need to talk privately.”
The gray eyes flashed. “Can’t it wait? I’ve got a patient waiting. I came out to change into fresh scrubs.”
“This is important. As you said, I have work piling up back at Children’s Health.”
“Very well. Walk with me.” He spared a stiff smile for Abby. “If all goes well, I should have Sam in recovery by six o’clock.”
“I’ll go make my call,” she murmured. But she stood there a moment and watched the men walk away. Body language said a lot. Ben had jammed both hands in the pockets of his khaki slacks. His father threw back his shoulders. Ben said something and the older man whirled on his son. Abby could almost see the sparks flying during their brief exchange. Ben thrust out his chin. His dad waved his arms and kept shaking his head from side to side.
Abby wondered what they were saying. Were they discussing Sam? Her worry grew, especially as their argument came to a close and Ben slammed a fist into the wall before stalking off. Instead of coming to find her, he stiff-armed his way through the door to a stairwell and disappeared without a word.
His father continued down the hall in the opposite direction.
Abby didn’t see Kirk Galloway again until almost six-thirty. She was exhausted, hungry and intermittently weepy. The noted surgeon appeared brittle and tense.
“I understand Sam has siblings?” he said without preamble.
“Yes. Four brothers,” Abby murmured. “Two sets of twins, nine and seven.”
Galloway processed that information. Or maybe not. Abby couldn’t tell.
“Sam will be in recovery another hour. He’ll be under heavy sedation most of the night. I suggest you go home and settle his brothers. Come back in the morning. I’ll make rounds at six and update you at seven. Is that too early?”
“No. May I see him before I go? I imagine he’s upset and frightened.”
“Don’t baby the boy. He needs to be tough if he’s going to find the will to walk.”
“You mean—he m-might not?” Abby breathed in deeply to stem a threatening expulsion of fresh tears. She wished Ben had stayed. About now, she could use less of his father’s brusque manner and more of Ben’s TLC.
A nurse, obviously overhearing, stepped up to them. “You’ll owe Sam’s ability to walk entirely to Dr. Galloway’s surgical expertise.”
“Nonsense.” But Galloway preened. “If the boy walks, it’ll be because he thinks he can. His right leg, hip and ankle were crushed by his mother’s seat. I’ve straightened his lumbar spine. It remains to be seen if we’ll need to go in later and do any fusing. I repaired the boy’s right hip, knee, tarsal and metatarsal bones. What saved his life very probably is the fact that he was in a sturdy booster seat. Even though paramedics had to cut him out, his parents should be commended for adhering to the law. As robust a child as Sam is, some parents might ignore the law and declare him big enough to use a regular seat belt.”
Abby did her best to follow Dr. Galloway’s clipped speech. She found her mind wandering. Elliot and Blair’s van, with its seat belts for seven and Sam’s car seat, had obviously sustained considerable damage. Given the state law stipulating that kids had to be five years old or weigh fifty pounds to use regular seat belts—how would she manage to transport the lot of them in her midsize compact?
She sighed and rubbed her forehead.
“Am I going too fast for you, Ms. Drummond?” Dr. Galloway folded the chart, presumably Sam’s, clicked his slim sliver pen closed, and fixed a smile on Abby.
“I’m sorry. I just feel overwhelmed by everything I’m facing in the days and weeks to come. None of which I need to burden you with. But…did I miss hearing you say whether or not I can visit Sam?”
“I’ll authorize a brief visit. Say five minutes? I can’t promise he won’t be too woozy to recognize you. Which is just as well. You won’t want to get into explaining about his mom and dad yet.”
“No. Not today. First I’ll tackle telling the other four. Before I forget my manners altogether, thank you, Doctor. Frankly, if Ben hadn’t recommended you, and if you hadn’t been available…” She let the sentence trail off. But that was okay as he cut her off with a wagging finger.
“Save your thanks until after you’ve seen my bill. I’ll give you a courtesy discount, of course. I hear the quake played havoc with a ski trip you and my son had planned. Quite honestly, Ms. Drummond—Abby—you’re not what I’d expect Ben to… Oh, never mind. I’m pleased to see the boy taking an interest in something other than that clinic of his. Of course, if he’d followed my advice, his career would’ve allowed him more freedom, prestige and needless to say…more money.” Still smiling with his lips alone, Kirk Galloway, M.D. extraordinaire, left Abby in the hands of a passing nurse. One he stopped to bark orders at.
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