Movement sounded outside in the hallway, and Lance Fredrickson poked his head into the exam room. “I just put another patient into Exam Room Two.”
May blinked. “Lance? What are you doing here? I thought you were helping coach football camp all day.”
He stepped fully inside, tall and graceful. Dark hair fell into his eyes, and his brown gaze held a permanent hint of mischief. “The coach had to repair his roof after the storm, so we don’t have to go in until the afternoon. I told Nancy I’d take the early shift, so I think she went to get her hair done.” He grinned. “A couple of us did offer to help the coach out, but he told us to go study for our summer classes.” He and several other kids attended college remotely and even took classes in the summer.
May tucked the patient chart beneath her arm. “Sounds like he needed a break.”
Lance rolled his eyes. “Probably. The next patient is bleeding all over. He went to the hospital first and they sent him here. I guess it seemed easier than having you go there.”
May chuckled as she reached for a clean pair of gloves. “Since I’m the only doctor in either place today, I suppose it doesn’t matter.” She walked down the short hallway and pushed open the door to the other exam room. Mick Thompson sat on the table again, a white towel wrapped tightly around his left hand. The towel was already soaked through, bright red bleeding into cotton. “Mr. Thompson, you’re back.”
“Yeah.” He grimaced. “I guess I am, and please call me Mick.”
“What happened this time?” She snapped on latex gloves.
“I was cleaning a fish.”
She lifted a brow. “Of course you were.”
He carefully turned his hand over. “I can’t even blame my brother for this one.”
She peeled the bloody towel away with steady fingers. A deep slice ran across the center of his palm, clean but wide, the edges parted. “You got yourself pretty good.”
“I slipped.” The scent of bourbon drifted toward her.
She looked at him directly. “Have you been drinking?”
“Oh yeah, we’re on vacation,” he said easily. His eyes were clear, though. “I can handle a knife. I just slipped.”
“All right.” She reached for sterile gauze and pressed it gently over the cut to slow the bleeding. “You’re going to need stitches.”
His chest moved. “I figured.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Not much. Just a shot with my coffee.”
She exhaled slowly. “I’m going to give you a local anesthetic.” She drew up lidocaine into a syringe and cleaned the area thoroughly with antiseptic solution, working from the center of the wound outward in careful circles. She injected small amounts along both edges of the laceration, watching his face for any reaction.
“That burns a little,” he hissed.
“It will,” she said calmly. “Give it a minute.”
Once the area numbed, she irrigated the wound with saline to flush out debris, holding his hand steady over a basin. The cut was deep but clean with no jagged tearing. She aligned the edges carefully with forceps, ensuring the tissue sat naturally without tension.
Using a sterile needle holder, she passed a curved suture needle through one side of the skin and out the other, placing simple interrupted stitches across the palm. Each knot was tied snug but not tight enough to compromise circulation. She spaced them evenly, closing the wound in neat intervals until the skin lay flat and secure. “You’ll have a scar,” she said as she clipped the final thread. “But you’ll keep full function if you let it heal properly.”
“I like scars,” he replied. “Yet another reminder of an awesome vacation.”
She applied antibiotic ointment, placed a sterile nonstick pad over the sutures, and wrapped his hand with fresh gauze before securing it with medical tape. “Keep it dry for twenty-four hours. No fish, no knives, and preferably no bourbon while you’re handling pointy objects.”
He grinned. “I’ll try.”
She stepped back and removed her gloves. “There you go.”
“Thanks, Doc.” His eyes twinkled. “Instead of repeatedly injuring myself to see you, how about I ask again? Will you come to dinner with me tonight?”
She kept her professional smile in place. “Sorry. I don’t see my patients in a personal capacity.” Ace was in a completely different category
