“Andy, this is serious!” I object.
“Come on, I can’t believe you don’t know what a rubber fuckie is,” she tells me.
“I can’t believe you’re a doctor,” I mutter.
“How do you think I learned this stuff?” she retorts.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Dr. Carter?” one of the orderlies calls in. “Are you available for a consult? Dr. Ching is busy, and we have a little emergency.”
I aim a venomous look at my so-called best friend and yank the door open.
“Doctor will be right with you,” I say brightly. A distraught-looking woman is standing at the counter holding a cloth over the forehead of a dark-haired child. Blood is seeping through. “Head wound?” I ask. The woman nods, looking nervous.
Behind her is another woman. Tall, expensively dressed, and impeccably groomed, she seems vaguely familiar. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her on the society pages of the tabloids or something similar. She has an arm draped over the shoulder of a tall, strapping boy. And she looks spitting mad.
Andy steps in smoothly. “Come right through,” she says to the woman with the bleeding child. The other woman squawks an objection.
“Excuse me!” she huffs. “My son has been injured.” I check him over. Aside from the start of a black eye, he seems fine. Of course, looks can be deceiving when it comes to injuries.
“Ma’am, please take a seat while I advise Dr. Ching that you’re waiting,” I say smoothly.
“But what about her?” she snaps, looking at Andy. “Why can’t she help us right now?”
“Head injuries take precedence, ma’am,” Andy interrupts, then returns her attention to the smaller boy, whose face is now covered with blood. “Come along, young man, let’s get you fixed up.”
“Don’t I have to fill out any forms?” the woman with him asks.
“Of course,” Andy acknowledges. “Sister Love will provide them, and then she’ll assist me while you’re busy.” She leans down to the boy. “Hello, sweetheart, I’m Dr. Andy. And this is Sister Love. She’s an angel,” she whispers to him. “She’ll take good care of you while your mom is busy.”
“She’s not my mom,” the boy says. The woman smiles ruefully.
“I’m the school nurse,” she admits. “There was…a bit of a scuffle. Dani here got quite badly injured, and this is out of my skill set.”
“That brat is a menace!” the other woman barks. I ignore the rest of her outburst as I turn to tap on the door of the consulting room. I advise Dr. Ching of the situation, then follow Andy down to the next room.
“Please take a seat, ma’am. We’ll be back in a minute,” I say over my shoulder to the outraged woman as I leave. When I walk into the next room, Andy has settled the boy onto a hospital bed and is examining the wound.
“Hmm,” she says, looking closer. “You’ve done a pretty good job of it, Dani.” He’s sitting silently, small sneakered feet swinging. There’s a wide gash along his hairline streaming blood. “It’s going to need stitches,” she adds, glancing up at me. I nod and move around the room, gathering the necessary equipment and materials. The boy pinches his lips together, his face pale. But aside from this, he shows no signs of distress. He’s a little trooper.
“How did it happen, honey?” I ask, casting an eye to where Andy is preparing an anesthetic. Keeping him preoccupied is the best way to keep his attention off what’s happening.
“Noah hit me in the head with a rock,” he says.
“Goodness,” I say, “that’s not very nice.”
“He’s a bully,” he adds. “And he says ugly things about my papà.”
“Well, I’m not surprised you were angry,” I answer. Andy applies a topical anesthetic and then expertly injects the area to numb it. “Would you hold my hand?” I ask. “This story sounds exciting, and I don’t want to get too nervous!”
“Sure,” he responds, curling his fingers through mine. As Andy moves closer with the needle, I feel his grip tighten.
“So, what happened when he hit you?” I ask.
“He called my papà a bad word, so I socked him,” he says. “My papà says a man should always fight for those he loves.”
“Good advice,” I say.
