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Fortunately, it’s arranged easily for us both to fly back in an air ambulance flight. The patient going straight to St. Mercy’s hospital of all places so I can’t pass the chance up at such a direct route home.
We leave behind anything we don’t absolutely need and within the hour, we’re back in the air, heading home and northeast from what looks more like a typhoon than just a tropical storm.
So, maybe for the best all around.
A real win-win. Yay me.
I explain to the crew and the ambulance waiting at the airport that Evelyn is my ‘nurse,’ even though I make sure she doesn’t do anything except watch what’s going on.
By the time I would have been planning our lunch in bed in Bermuda after a bath, we’re back in the hospital, with the ER staff on standby to take over for our patient, who I know should be just fine from here on.
Not the greatest re-entrance, but almost just as quick as if we’d driven from across town.
I take Evelyn aside once we’re done with our patient, asking her if she’s ready to see her dad.
She shrugs a little, then hugs her elbows. The flimsy summer dress she still has on registering with me as if for the first time since we left the island in Bermuda.
Almost as much as my own tropical t-shirt and shorts ensemble.
“I’ll find us some scrubs,” I insist, not wanting her to be cold but mostly not wanting her body on display for the whole world to see either.
I find her a private space to change in, and in minutes we’re both on our way up to see her dad in the ICU recovery.
For now, I make sure I have a mask on and only see her as far as the nurse’s station before urging her on to go see her dad.
“You’re not coming?” she says suddenly, gripping me by the arm, a look of near panic in her eyes.
“Based on the last visit, I think it’s best if I don’t just yet,” I tell her candidly.
“Just see how he is, don’t excite him any, and act like everything’s normal for now,” I recommend. Knowing this is shit advice when it comes to anything to do with Nick Partridge.
The man’s no idiot, but I repeat the importance of him not getting any stress or undue excitement right now. For his health’s sake.
“What about the frickin’ hospital bill he’s bound to ask me about?” Evelyn hisses under her breath. “It’s his thing, insurance. He’s woken up in a hospital after surgery… He’s gonna want to know what’s what,” she says firmly.
Her grip on me doesn’t loosen, and I figure now’s as good a time as any to spell it out, just one more time.
“You are mine, Evelyn. You’re dad’s my oldest friend, even though he thinks he hates me right now. I’m taking care of everything. Hospital, house… your college expenses that aren’t covered by any scholarship… Our life together from now on. Everything,” I hiss back.
“Everything,” I remind her more gently with a final look to let her know I mean it, letting my voice relax as I feel her grip start to fall away.
I watch her move away from me, almost reaching the curtains I know her dad’s behind. The familiar beep and hum of the machines telling me he’s stable.
A situation I don’t want to jeopardize again until he’s well enough.
Suddenly, she turns on her heel and rushes back to me, grabbing me with a fresh intensity.
“I’m gonna pay you back,” she rasps defiantly. “Every damned cent, Dr. Love.” She stipulates, poking my chest with each word.
I nod in agreement. Knowing in a split second she’s her father’s daughter alright.
No way would Nick Partridge accept help of any kind, and his family is obviously no exception.
“Deal,” I tell her if only because it’s the one thing I know that will let any of this move forward.
So I can just take her home.
She seems happy enough with that, and once she moves behind the curtain to see her dad I check over his charts at the desk.
The relief surgical team has done a fine job. His recovery is looking to be quicker than anyone expected.
Gold star day, apart from the fact I’m boning his only daughter.
Waiting for the right moment to-
“Dr. Love. What brings you here, yet again?” A familiar voice drawls behind me.
I close the files on my patient and turn to see hospital director Carmichael, waiting for me around every corner it seems lately.
“Just finishing up with the handover of my patient,” I lie, murmuring it so low he has to come closer to even hear what I’m saying.
The nurse at the desk darts away, suddenly busy once he sees the hospital director coming towards us both.
“I had a call from the Bermuda beach house staff last night,” he says ominously, and I figure I’ve had just about enough of his shit for one decade.
