Rescued By Mr. Wrong. Cynthia Thomason
quite old enough to know better than to drive in this weather, thank you!”
“Knowing and doing are obviously two very different things to you.” He deposited her in the roomy passenger seat of what she now recognized as a Chevy Tahoe, similar to the vehicles her coworkers drove in the Service. After this experience, she’d have to seriously consider trading in her cute French car and getting a four-wheel drive of her own.
“I’d put you in the backseat, but it’s full of fire logs,” he said. “I can help you elevate your leg onto the dashboard.”
“No. I’m okay. Just drive.”
He went around to the driver’s side, got in and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ve got to make a phone call before we go.”
“Okay.”
“Duke? It’s Keegan. I’ve got your meds, but I won’t be back at the camp for a while. How soon do you need them?”
The camp? Was this guy a survivalist of some kind?
He paused while Duke answered. “No problem. I should be home by then.” Another pause. “I’m fine. Just came across a stranded motorist who needs some medical attention. I’m dropping her at the hospital.”
Carrie relaxed her shoulders into the seat back. Once she was at the hospital she’d be safe, and the twenty-minute drive with Keegan Breen was better than alerting her father to her problem and enduring his criticism. Besides, there was something comforting about the conversation she’d just heard, and she realized that she was beginning to trust him. Keegan was apparently doing something for a friend. And right now he was her only hope of getting out of a snowbank and getting her leg looked after. It was nice to know he was accustomed to helping people. Although she couldn’t get the image of his idea of a “camp” out of her mind.
And getting to the hospital was only the beginning of her problems. What would she do after he dropped her off? She didn’t want to call her sisters. Even if she swore them to secrecy about this event, they would ignore her and immediately tell their father, claiming it was for her own good. Everyone just assumed that Carrie needed help, and rules of independence didn’t apply to her. Her best bet was to see what the damages were and what the hospital suggested. Then she’d make a decision.
“So, what were you doing driving on a day like this?” His voice brought her back to the present and the throbbing pain in her leg.
“I was hoping to surprise some people today.”
He stole a quick glance at her before focusing on the road. “They should be surprised all right. A call from the hospital should knock their socks off.”
So true. If the hospital called her family, someone would definitely hop in a car to come get her, which could easily end in another vehicle disaster. And if they even made it safely in this blizzard, she’d never hear the end of it.
“I’m not going to tell them,” she said, deciding at that moment that she would handle this situation on her own—somehow.
He stared at her a bit longer, his face serious. “That’s your decision, I guess. But you are in somewhat of a mess here.”
She shifted on the seat, trying to relieve some pain. There didn’t seem to be a comfortable position. “How much longer?”
“About ten minutes I’d say.” He stared up at the gray sky. “As long as another flurry doesn’t start.”
She appraised his face, which seemed perpetually set in a stern profile. Despite his growth of beard, she could tell his features were strong and weathered, as if he’d spent time in the sun and wind. Maybe he was a farmer or a construction worker, something like that—or, there was the image again, a survivalist. She’d heard stories about these rugged, gruff men who lived in compounds. Anyway, she figured he wasn’t a businessman driving an old monster vehicle. The gray in his beard indicated that whatever he did, he’d been at it awhile.
His hair was a different story. Once he’d removed his cap, she saw just a sprinkling of gray at his temples where the strands flowed back to a shoulder-length mass of thick, dark brown waves. Good, healthy hair. She brushed her fingers through her fine, baby blond hair with its professionally colored darker tips and realized she envied him for his apparent lucky-from-birth gift.
“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly.
Jolted back into awareness, she said, “Carrie. Carrie Foster.”
He stuck out his hand, and she briefly grasped it. “I’ve never heard the name Keegan,” she said. “It’s Irish, isn’t it?”
“Through and through. Mom and Pop and all the grandfolks.”
Keegan swung into the parking lot of a building Carrie identified as Trumbly County Medical Center. The lot was nearly empty with snow packed up against car bumpers. He didn’t bother with finding a space, instead, stopping at the emergency entrance. He came around to her side and lifted her out of the vehicle.
“I can walk,” she said.
“Sure you can, but humor me. I like to flex my muscles once in a while.”
Inside, he called for a wheelchair. A nurse brought one immediately, and Keegan gently lowered Carrie into it.
“What have we got?” the nurse asked, tenderly probing the wound on Carrie’s head.
“Car accident. Besides the obvious, I suspect a broken leg.”
The nurse wheeled Carrie into a smaller room where a staff member asked her a number of questions about medications, the level of her pain. She took Carrie’s blood pressure and pulse before someone with a clipboard came in and asked for Carrie’s insurance card. Thank goodness she had her purse, and thank goodness the card didn’t show her Ohio address. If there was any way to avoid alerting her father about this trouble, she wanted to do it. She and Dr. Martin Foster had had so many arguments over Carrie’s health, her asthma, her stubborn resistance to listen to reason about being out in nature for her job, she figured this incident might make her dad chain her to Dancing Falls forever. But seeing her family at Christmas had prompted her to set out in this weather despite facing a certain argument with her dad. She’d thought he’d mellow once he realized she had arrived safely. But now...
“Your vitals are good,” the nurse said. “But we’re going to do a CT scan of the head and take an X-ray of the leg. Both tests will just take a few minutes.” Turning to Keegan, whose presence had become surprisingly comforting to Carrie’s peace of mind, she said, “You can wait in the lobby.”
For the first time since Carrie had met him, he seemed indecisive. Stay or go? What would he do? He had no obligation to stay, but for some reason, Carrie wanted him to. “It’s just a quick X-ray,” she said. “I’d appreciate it if you’d wait.”
He shrugged. “Sure. I can wait as long as it doesn’t take too long.”
A half hour later, Carrie was wheeled into an emergency cubicle. A nurse went to get Keegan, and they were told the doctor would be in shortly with the test results.
When the doctor arrived, he stood next to Carrie. “Well, young lady, you were lucky this time. This could have been much worse. As long as I’ve lived in the snowbelt, I’ve seen foolish people try to drive in our crazy weather and come in here with all sorts of...”
“Doctor, I know I shouldn’t have been driving,” Carrie said, trying not to resent the doctor’s parental tone. “What did the X-ray of my leg show?”
“You have a simple fracture. We’re going to put a soft cast and a boot on it. Should be okay in a month or so.”
“A month? I can drive, can’t I?” Carrie asked.
“Drive? Heavens, no. You fractured your right leg. You won’t be driving until you can do it without a cast or boot. Unless you want to get in another accident and maybe take someone else out with you this time.”