A Healing Love. Doris English
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After removing her bright yellow slicker, she covered him with it. As she placed the soft flannel lining around him, he stirred. Putting a hand lightly on each of his shoulders, she leaned in, her face close to his. Eyes like two small slits opened slightly.
Laura’s heart lurched as her eyes encountered his. Even now, a commanding power emanated from the ebony pools.
“Where—where—” He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry and his tongue seemed too thick to form any more words.
“Please lie still. You have had an accident. Your injuries don’t appear to be life threatening and assistance is on the way.” Laura spoke slowly, distinctly, while attempting a reassuring smile.
“What h-happened?” he persisted as his tongue stiffly formed the words. His eyes, showing no hint of recognition, burned into hers.
“Your plane crashed and you are on Boulder Mountain. A helicopter will be here to get you soon.”
“Crashed?” His eyes widened, and he struggled against the gentle pressure of Laura’s hands.
“Turn loose,” he commanded.
She smiled tightly and answered in a firm voice, without releasing her hold, “Until you are thoroughly checked out, you mustn’t move. Help will be here soon.”
“Who are you?” he asked weakly, gazing up at her beautiful image; her mud-smudged face and thick, golden locks, windblown and irrepressible.
“I’m Dr. Laura McBride from the Appalachian Clinic a few miles from here, Dr. Jeremiah,” she answered softly.
He closed his eyes and remarked, “No, wood nymph.”
He raised his hand in a helpless gesture, then his body relaxed beneath her grip. He had lost consciousness again. Once more Laura attached the blood pressure cuff to his arm. The gauge confirmed her fears: his pressure was falling. Help must arrive soon, for there was little else she could do for him. Placing her patient’s hand in hers, she waited for their rescuers.
The distant whir of a helicopter broke the stillness and jerked Laura from the lethargy that had claimed her. She had not realized how weary she was from the events of the past two days. Now her body moved reluctantly from fatigue.
A grim smile parted her lips. That ought to be some ride back down the mountain as sore and stiff as I am. She winced mentally as she thought about Maleeka patiently waiting for her.
A moan from her patient interrupted her anxious speculation and she put a cool hand to his forehead. Where it had been cold and clammy earlier, it was now warm with fever.
She whispered a prayer of thanks as the distant whir changed to a deafening roar. The trees overhead blew briskly as the chopper came to rest smartly between the red glowing markers.
“Haaalloooo, Laura. Where are you?” a familiar voice called from above.
Relief flooded through every fiber of her being when she recognized Mark Harrod’s voice.
“Here, Mark. And hurry. We need a stretcher and splints. But take care—the slope is very slippery.”
The warning had hardly been issued before Mark’s tall lean frame stood beside her. He took one look at her and, seemingly oblivious to the man prostrate on the ground, reached one long arm out and pulled her to him, enfolding her in his warm embrace, as he scolded softly, “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like that again. You wait for help next time!”
He placed his hand beneath her chin and raised her face, really looking at her for the first time. His pleasant face creased with concern. His hand moved upward to caress the cuts and scratches on her face.
“What happened to you?” he asked worriedly.
“Just banged up a bit, nothing serious. I kinda took a fall…”
“Down this embankment?” Mark all but shouted. “It ends in the valley below via Clingman’s Bluff.”
“But I didn’t end up there. Please, Mark, don’t waste time with me. He’s the one who needs your attention.” Her voice rose with anxiety for her patient.
“That’s all right, Laura. I’ll attend to him. Let Mark take care of you,” said a deep voice behind them.
Laura stood on tiptoe and peered over Mark’s shoulder, straight into the twinkling blue eyes of her father. The blood rushed to her face, tinting it scarlet. David McBride’s eyebrows raised quizzically as he took in his daughter firmly entrenched in the arms of his chief surgeon.
She pushed harder against Mark’s embrace, breaking free of the pinioning arms. “I said I’m all right!” she insisted.
“You don’t look all right. Sit down and let me dress those wounds. I don’t want that gorgeous face scarred,” Mark commanded as he stooped to open his bag.
“Don’t patronize me, Mark. Just because I’m a woman you think I need pampering.” She railed irrationally, embarrassment and fatigue taking their toll.
The young doctor glanced up, his eyes lingering on her beautiful, defiant face. She stood there glaring at him with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed uncharacteristically.
Now that he was certain she was safe, amusement danced in his warm brown eyes and he drawled, “Well, my pretty maid, I’ll have to admit it would be mighty hard for me to forget you’re a woman.” Then he added softly, “Now or anytime.”
Laura couldn’t deny the message in his eyes, the tone of his voice. It melted her stubborn resistance, and the hint of scarlet on her cheeks deepened. She stammered, “O-okay, if you insist, but I’m not hurt.”
“I do insist, and you are hurt as well as on the verge of total exhaustion. It’s a good thing I got back in time to come with your father. He’d have had his hands full trying to look after both of you.”
“Now, Mark—” she began, her eyes snapping.
“You’re right there, Mark,” the older doctor agreed. His face was serious and the twinkle gone from his eyes as he observed quietly, “This young man’s condition is touch-and-go. He may have some internal bleeding. His blood pressure has fallen some more. Were there any other survivors?”
Laura shook her head. “No. I searched this area thoroughly.”
“Were you able to get any information from him?”
“He opened his eyes once, but he was delirious— talked about wood nymphs!” Laura said as the two men stared at her, before both simultaneously burst into laughter.
Laura frowned. “I’m afraid I fail to see any humor in that.”
Her father chuckled. “I’m sure that it must have caused him some anxiety that a wood nymph was administering first aid to him.”
Laura shot him a sharp look before replying, “How did you know that?”
“That’s what you look like—some wildly beautiful forest creature,” Mark explained as he reached out and picked up a lock of her hair cascading down her back.
“I must be a sight. Perhaps I should request that the pharmaceutical company design a medical bag equipped with beauty supplies just for women doctors,” she teased, all former traces of irritation gone.
“I’ll have to disagree with that. I think this ‘new’ you is enchanting,” Mark added, his eyes perfectly serious.
“Thank you, Dr. Harrod. You’re a true friend as usual, but dreaming or not, our patient wasn’t so injured that he relished being treated by a woman doctor.”
“So that’s what got your ire up, and you took it out on poor little old me,” Mark countered.
“What are friends for if we can’t take out our frustrations on them and they still love us, right?”
“You