“ALEXANDER LOGAN?” Kali swung open the door leading into the waiting room.
“Aye, that’s me.” A gentleman with a thick shock of gray hair tried to press himself up from the bench seat, flat cap in one hand, cane in the other. “And you are...?”
“Dr. O’Shea. I’m the new—the locum doctor.”
“With a name like O’Shea and those green eyes of yours I’m guessing you must be Irish.” He grinned at her, eyes shining.
Kali hoped he didn’t see the wince of pain his question had elicited. He wasn’t to know that her mother—her ballast—with her distant Irish connection was the only reason she was alive.
“My wife was Irish. Feisty.”
Just like her mother.
“She sounds like a great woman,” she replied with a smile, grateful to dodge the question about herself. “You all right there, Mr. Logan? Would you like a hand standing up?”
“Oh, no—well, a bit.” He looked up at her with a widening smile. “Yes, those eyes of yours remind me of Tilly, all right.”
Kali hooked her arm through his, relieved to feel him put a bit of his body weight on her arm. “Shall we try and work our way to the exam room?”
“Oh, sure. Not as quick on my—” He lifted his hand to his mouth, as if he were waiting for a sneeze to arrive. When the sneeze came, he stumbled forward, losing his grip on his cane as he fell, then let out a howl of pain.
Half the people in the waiting room lurched forward to lend a hand as Kali tightened her grip on his elbow and shifted an arm round his waist.
She heard the swinging door open behind her.
“Sandy?” It was Brodie.
“I’m all right...just me hip.”
He was clearly the opposite of all right, but as Brodie stepped forward to help support Mr. Logan Kali could feel the older man press closer to her.
“No, no...” Mr. Logan gave a little wave of his hand. “It’s all right, Brodie. I’ve got Dr. O’Shea here, seeing to me.”
Kali was surprised to see fear in the man’s eyes. No one in that waiting room looked healthier than Brodie McClellan. The man was a veritable poster boy for the ruggedly fit.
“I was just—” Brodie began, then gave up. “Caitlyn, can you call Ailsa and have her help Mr. Logan into the exam room? I’m guessing your hip is giving you gyp again, Sandy?”
“Aye, well...”
That was all the older man would allow. Kali couldn’t figure out if that was a standard Scottish response or if he was trying to breathe less now that Brodie was in the room. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the other patients bring a tissue to her lips. The sea of helping hands had been withdrawn entirely.
She was surprised to realize she was feeling indignant. On Brodie’s behalf. She’d known within minutes of meeting him that he wouldn’t compromise someone’s health...well, maybe in quite a few minutes... Even so, the man meant no harm. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“If you two have a history, I’m happy for you to see Dr. McClellan, if you prefer,” Kali offered. Might as well try to build bridges out here in the public eye.
“Oh, no dear.” Mr. Logan put more of his weight on Kali. “You understand, Brodie—don’t you? I wouldn’t want to seem rude to Dr. O’Shea, when she’s gone to all this trouble to come up here to Dunregan.” His eyes flicked between the two doctors. “Would I, Dr. McClellan?”
It was an apology. Not a question.
“Of course not, Mr. Logan.” Brodie dropped the informal abbreviation he’d used earlier and grabbed a couple of antiseptic wipes from the counter before bending over to pick up the man’s cane. He gave it a visible scrub along the arch as he did.
Kali’s eyes flicked to Ailsa as she entered the room, watching her assess the situation before taking the cane from Brodie with a bright smile. He disappeared into the back of the clinic before Kali could catch his eye. Get a reading on how much the incident had hurt. She would’ve felt it if it had happened to her, and she didn’t even know these people.
“Oh, dearie me, Mr. Logan,” chirped Ailsa. “It looks like your new hip isn’t quite playing ball, is it?”
“It’s been fine, but Bess and I were walking along Ben Regan—”
“Away up on the cliffs?”
“Aye, well... Going up was all right, but the going down part... Well, it’s just not felt quite right since then.”
“Are you up to the journey down the corridor, Sandy? Any sciatic pain before you went on your walk?”
“No, no. I did that flexing test thing Brodie showed me the last time.” He shot a guilty look at the space Brodie had vacated.
“Did you feel the hip come out of the socket?” Kali asked.
“Just now? Aye, that I did.”
Ailsa shot Kali a look which she interpreted as, Are you up to doing a hip relocation? Kali nodded, her lips pressed grimly together. Mr. Logan wasn’t exactly light.
“With the two of you lassies helping me, I should be fine to get to the room.” Mr. Logan gave them each a grateful smile.
Not two or three steps into the corridor he sneezed again and all but crumpled to the floor.
“Well, all right, then, Mr. Logan.” Kali nodded at Ailsa as she spoke. “I guess we’ll get to it right here, if that’s okay.”
“Anything...” he huffed out. “Anything to stop the pain.”
Kali straightened both of the gentleman’s legs out onto the corridor floor—one was visibly shorter than the other—taking a glimpse up to his face as the left knee refused to unbend. The color was fading from Mr. Logan’s cheeks and his breath was coming in short, sharp pants.
“Mr. Logan? It looks like you’ve got a posterior dislocation here. I’m just going to take your leg—”
“Do whatever you need to do quickly, lassie!” Mr. Logan panted.
“Ailsa—Mrs. Dunregan—Nurse—” Kali stumbled over the words—she still wasn’t up to name etiquette in this place where everyone knew everyone. “Would you mind holding Mr.—Sandy’s head steady?”
“I’d probably be best holding down his pelvic bones for you when you do the reduction,” Ailsa corrected gently. “Mr. Logan and I aren’t going anywhere. You go on and get whatever medication you need.”
“Right.” She shot a look over her shoulder, as if some medication would magically appear, then whispered, “I’ve only ever done this procedure with a patient under general anesthetic in surgery.”
“But you’ve done it?” Ailsa’s voice was low.
“Yes, but...”
“We don’t have a hospital on Dunregan, dear. Mr. Logan’s had a hip replacement, so he’s got an artificial ball joint. You’ll need to perform a reduction of the dislocated hip prosthesis, okay? Sooner rather than later. You’ll be fine,” she added with a reassuring smile.
Kali rose and jogged to the exam room she’d been using to find Brodie, hands sheathed in protective gloves, filling a syringe with something.
“Morphine.” Brodie pinched the syringe between two fingers, handing it to her with the needle still capped. “And you will probably also want to give him this.”
“Which is...?” Kali hoped the panic she was feeling wasn’t as obvious as it felt.
“Midazolam. For sedation.” He handed her the syringe with a gloved hand. “Are you sure you’re good with this?”
“Yes, of course,” she answered—too swiftly.
“So you’ve done a hip relocation in these circumstances?”
Not in the strictest sense of the words.
She looked up at Brodie’s face. Was he doubting her or offering reassurance? There was kindness in his eyes. He gave her a go on nod.
“I’ve got it. I’m good.” She gave a firm nod in return, convincing herself as much as Brodie. This was just another one of those moments when life wasn’t giving her much of a choice. Her patient had specifically requested her as his doctor, and it seemed Brodie was in her corner.
“Any special tips for Mr. Logan’s hip?” She hoped the question wasn’t a giveaway that her brain was short-circuiting.
“Nope.”
Brodie turned back to the sink to peel off his gloves and wash his hands. Or to ignore her.
Both?
So much for being in her corner! She stared at his back, tempted, just for a moment, to stick out her tongue at him. She wasn’t that long out of med school and, whilst she had done a reduction before, she certainly hadn’t done one under these circumstances.
Well, tough. That was what she had and she would just have to cope.
“Are you going to do the reduction or do you need help?” Brodie didn’t turn around, his question rising only slightly above the sound of running water. It was difficult to tell if his tone was kind or frustrated.
“It’s not as if there’s anyone else we can ring, is there?” Kali asked rhetorically, instantly wishing she hadn’t when his shoulders stiffened.
Open mouth...insert foot. The poor man’s father wasn’t long gone and he was having just about the worst period of mourning a son could go through. He had her compassion.
“I’m good. I’ve got it.” She spoke to his back again, shook herself into action and took a careful look at each of the syringes she held. Brodie had labeled them.
A tray appeared in her eyeline, preset with alcohol prep pads, tape and a blunt-end needle already attached to a high-flow extension tube with a four-way stopcock. Her eyes flicked up and she gave Brodie a grateful smile. His neutral expression gave nothing away—but his actions were clear. The man was meticulous. And his patient’s welfare was paramount. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here—hovering, checking she was up to snuff. Which she’d better get busy proving she was.
“Thanks for doing the syringes. And the tray. Everything.”
She didn’t catch his mumbled reply as she picked up her pace to get back to her patient.
“You’ll need these as well.”
Kali turned as Brodie reappeared in the corridor with a box of gloves, a roll of hygiene paper and a paper blanket.
Ailsa took them from him, then asked Brodie to let Caitlyn know what was happening so she would stop sending people through for a moment.
Kali tugged on a pair of gloves, taking the time to focus.
Mr. Logan’s breaths were deeply labored and his face was contorted with pain.
“All right, Mr. Logan, we’re going to have to give you a couple of injections—”
“Just get on with it, already,” he gasped. “I can’t bear it much longer and Bess is in the car.”
“Your dog will be just fine, Mr. Logan. We can always get Caitlyn to check on her.” Ailsa took charge again. “Just lay still for a moment, Sandy, so we can get some of this painkiller into you. You’ve not got any allergies, have you?”
“What? No, no. I’m fine.”
Ailsa took an antiseptic swab off the tray Brodie had prepared and rubbed it along Mr. Logan’s left arm. Deftly she inserted the needle, holding the extension tubing out for Kali to put the syringe on. They watched as the morphine left the tubing and went to work, combatting Mr. Logan’s acute pain. Kali carefully injected both the morphine and the midazolam, trying to think of something to chat with him about to monitor the effects of the painkiller.
“And how is Bess these days, Sandy?” asked Ailsa, coming to her rescue.
“She’s getting on, like me.” Sandy chuckled, a slight wince creasing his forehead as he did so.
“And are you still spoiling her rotten?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied with a soft smile. “No point in going daft over a dog, is there?”
“Course not, Sandy. Even such a loyal one like Bess.” Ailsa slipped her fingers to Sandy’s wrist before whispering across to Kali, “There’s a monitor in the exam room there—the one Brodie’s in. Would you mind—?”
“Absolutely. No problem.” Kali glanced at her watch as she rose. She could tell by the gentle slurring in Sandy’s voice that the painkiller was kicking in...they would just need to wait a few more moments.
Brodie met her at the doorway, portable monitor in freshly gloved hands.
“You’re not just standing there earwigging, are you?” Kali quipped.
“Hardly.” Brodie’s brows tucked closer together, his eyes lighting with a flash of barely contained anger.
Frustration. That was all it was. She’d feel the same.
Kali took the monitor with a smile of thanks.
After Mr. Logan’s voice had become incredibly sleepy in response to her questions about how he was feeling, followed by a soft snore, she felt confident to go ahead with the maneuver.
“We’re going to have to take your trousers off, Mr. Logan.”
Another snore and a soft grunt was her response.
“I think you’re all right to proceed, dear.” Ailsa smiled.
One look at his face was proof that Sandy Logan didn’t care if they dressed him up to look like the Easter bunny as long as his hip was fixed in the process. He wore a goofy grin and was definitely seeing the brighter side of life as the painkillers did their work.
Kali straddled Mr. Logan and raised his hips as Ailsa swiftly tugged off his trousers, offering soothing words of consolation as she did so. Mr. Logan’s smile remained intact, his eyes firmly shut.
“Posterior or anterior?” Ailsa asked Kali.
Just one look at the inward pointing knee and foot indicated posterior. For good measure Kali examined the hip, trying to keep her touch as light as possible. The ball joint was very obviously protruding to the rear.
“Posterior.” Her years of training took over. “The lower limb will need to be flexed, adducted and internally rotated.”
“That’s right,” Ailsa said, as if her memory had needed jogging as well. If she hadn’t been such a great nurse, Kali would’ve recommended she take up a career in acting.
Kali bent Sandy’s knee, tucked her arm in the crook and, with a nod of her head, indicated that Ailsa should begin applying pressure to the hip as she pressed her heels into the floor and, with a fluid tug and a moan from the semiconscious Mr. Logan, the hip shifted back into place.
Her eyes met Ailsa’s and they both laughed with delight.
“I did it!”
“Well done, Dr. O’Shea.”
“Nice work.”
Kali started at the sound of Brodie’s voice. He’d been watching?
“Well...” She shrugged off the compliment. Being in the spotlight had always made her feel uncomfortable.
“Shall we get him onto a backboard and let him have a rest in one of the overnight rooms?” Ailsa asked—the question aimed more at Brodie than Kali.
“Good idea. I’ll go get the gear.”
“You’ve got overnight rooms?”
Not a nine-to-five surgery, then. Good. The more all-consuming things were here, the less time she’d have to think about the past. The family she’d left behind. The arranged marriage she’d narrowly avoided.
“A couple.” Ailsa nodded. “They’re always a good idea, with the weather up here changing at the drop of a hat and...” she nodded at their patient “...for situations like this.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” Ailsa looked up at her in surprise.
“You know—for all the help with this. It’s all a bit...” As she sought the right word Brodie came back into the corridor with a backboard.
Ailsa gave Kali’s arm a squeeze before clearing away the tray of medical supplies, detaching the monitor pads and making room for Brodie to slip the backboard under Mr. Logan at Kali’s count.
“Right...” Brodie looked down at the soft smile on Mr. Logan’s face. “Glad to see another happy patient. Shall we get him moved before he wakes up and sees I’ve had anything to do with this?”
“Thank you.” Kali looked straight into his eyes. She needed him to know she meant it. “For everything.”
“Not a problem. Lift on three?”
He counted at her nod and as they walked Mr. Logan down the corridor she heard Brodie softly laugh to himself.
“What’s so funny?”
“I forgot to make your tea.”
* * *
Three o’clock in the afternoon and still not one patient. Plenty for Kali—but not one had come to see him.
Brodie was about as close to tearing his hair out as he’d ever been. He’d finally managed to remember to make cups of tea, only to find Caitlyn had just done a round for everyone. Terrific. He couldn’t even get that right!
Brodie was beginning to get a good understanding of how innocent people on the run must feel.
Criminal.
Here he was, healthy as a professional athlete—he knew that because the doctor monitoring him had expressed envy at his level of fitness—and all for what? To lurk around his own surgery in the desperate hope of picking up a few medical crumbs?
At least Kali was getting a good feel for how the surgery worked. She had a smile on her face every time he saw her. Which would be good if he wasn’t so desperate for something to do! There was only so much surfing the internet a man could do. He hardly thought this was what his father had meant when he’d made his final request: Just one year, son. Just give it one year.
If—and this was a big if—people were just giving him grieving time, didn’t they know he’d be far better off grieving by making good on his promise to his father to run the surgery for a year?
Or maybe... No. Would he? Would his father have told folk to do this? Give him wide berth?
No. He shook his head resolutely. His father had always championed him. There were few things he was certain of, but his father’s undivided loyalty was one of them.
A message pinged through on his office computer. He looked at the screen hopefully, despite his best efforts to remain neutral.
Mr. Donaldson—urgent.
A patient?
It was almost silly how happy he felt. A patient! He was out of his chair and on his way to Reception before Mr. Donaldson—a long-time patient of both himself and his father—had a chance to change his mind.
When he opened the door his heart sank.
“Dad, are you absolutely sure?” Mr. Donaldson’s daughter, Anne, had her back to Brodie and hadn’t seen him come in.
“Of course I’m sure. He’s my doctor,” Mr. Donaldson insisted.
“But...” Anne looked across at Caitlyn—presumably to get some backup—only to find the receptionist was busy on the phone.
Shame, thought Brodie. He would’ve been curious to see how she reacted to this. He checked himself. The fact Caitlyn had taken the job showed her support. Never mind that she was family and could do with the money. She didn’t let fear override her common sense. Or, he conceded, her nan’s say-so.
“Now, Mr. Donaldson. What can I do for you today?”
Anne all but recoiled at the sound of his voice, her arm moving swiftly up to cover her mouth.
“You’re all right, Anne.” Brodie forced himself to stay calm. “I’ve been cleared. I’m not contagious.”
“Oh, I know, Brodie—Dr. McClellan. It’s just—” She stopped speaking, her eyes widening in horror—or embarrassment. She widened the gap between the fingers covering her mouth. “It’s just that poor nurse who went where you did in Africa is back in hospital...”
Ah...he’d seen the headlines on the internet. Must’ve hit the broadsheets as well. That explained the hands and arms covering people’s mouths. Fresh media scares about recurrences and isolation units and that poor, poor woman. Her courage and generosity was going heavily unrewarded.
“I saw that.” Brodie shook his head. “And I was very sorry to hear it. But I can absolutely assure you that is not the case with me.”
“Brodie, I would get up to greet you, but...” the elderly gentlemen interjected, pointing at his foot.
Brodie’s eyes widened at the sight. A blood-soaked rag was wrapped around the middle of his foot.
“Is that just a wool sock you’re wearing there, Mr. Donaldson?”
“Sure is. My foot would’ve had a boot on as well, but my daughter, here, said you were likely to cut it off and I wasn’t going to let that happen. I only just bought them five years ago. Still got miles to go in them yet.”
“Dad!” Anne jumped in, forgetting to shield her mouth. “The boot’s got a gaping great hole in it now your turf spade’s gone through it. It couldn’t have done your foot one bit of good to be yanked out of your boot after you pulled the spade out of it.”
“You put a turf spade through your boot and into your foot?”
Brodie couldn’t help but be impressed. Wielding a spade with that sort of strength would have taken tremendous power. Then again, at eighty-five years of age Mr. Donaldson showed few signs of succumbing to the frailty of the elderly. Vital was just about the best description Brodie could conjure.
“Aye, that I did, son—no need to broadcast it round the village.”
“I’d take it as a compliment, Mr. Donaldson. Let’s get you into my exam room, shall we?” He moved to help him up just as Kali entered the waiting room with a patient’s chart.
“Are you coming, Anne?” Mr. Donaldson turned to see if his daughter was behind them.
Brodie saw Kali catch the look of horror on Anne’s face at the suggestion.
“Can I help?” Kali stepped forward without waiting for an answer, offering another arm for Mr. Donaldson to lean on. Brodie gave her a grateful smile.
This was tough. He’d had a few other doctors warning him something like this might happen, but he’d just blown it off. Dunregan was his home! He hadn’t expected a victory parade—but having people frightened of being treated by him...? It seared deeper than he’d ever have anticipated.
“Thank you, dear.” Mr. Donaldson’s fingers wrapped round Kali’s forearm. “I’m sure you’re busy, but you wouldn’t mind, would you?” He raised his voice as they were leaving the waiting room. “Explaining to my daughter that John McClellan’s son is not going to give me or anyone else who sets foot on Dunregan the plague.”
Brodie’s eyebrows shot up. An unlikely champion! He had known Mr. Donaldson his whole life, but they certainly weren’t close. Then again...he didn’t know how many hours of chess had passed between Mr. Donaldson and his father down at the Eagle and Ram. Thousands. Most likely more.
“I’d be delighted to,” Kali replied. “Public health is one of my areas of interest.”
“As well it should be.” Mr. Donaldson nodded approvingly. “Now, you do know, dear,” Mr. Donaldson continued, putting his paper-skinned hand atop hers as they inched their way along the corridor, “that Brodie, here, is one of the island’s most eligible bachelors?”
“Well, that is news!” Kali’s eyebrows shot up and...was that a fake smile or real one?
“Yes, it’s absolutely true. Isn’t that so, Brodie?
Most of the suitable girls have already been married off, and we know he will need someone who’s a bit of a brainbox to keep him interested. So...”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Brodie was too gobsmacked to intervene. Since when had Mr. Donaldson been made the Matchmaker of Dunregan?
“You cannae go far wrong if you marry a Scot, Dr. O’Shea. They’re loyal, truehearted...and, of course, if you’re into strapping laddies our Brodie here looks very nice when he’s all kitted out in his kilt.”
“I—I will take you at your word on that,” Kali replied, her expression making it very clear she wasn’t interested.
“Mr. Donaldson—” Brodie was goldfishing, trying to search for the best way to cut this conversation short. His romantic escapades—and that was about as far as he’d ever taken any of his relationships—were things he’d always kept very close to his chest. Talking about it so openly made him feel about twelve!
“Brodie, why don’t you invite Dr. O’Shea, here, along to one of our Polar Bear outings? They’re great fun and a wonderful way to really get to know one another. I’ve seen more than a few Polar Bear weddings!” He hooted at the memory, then chided Brodie, “And it’s been some time since we’ve seen you down at the beach.”
Something in the neighborhood of ten years!
“We should just be taking a left here, Mr. Donaldson.” Brodie tried to steer his patient and the conversation firmly off the topic of marriage. He had more than enough on his plate without worrying about getting a fiancée as well.
Not that Kali would be a bad choice, but—
His eyes caught hers. Her expression gave little away. If not the slightest hint of Uh-uh...you can keep your Scottish yenta.
“So, Dr. O’Shea,” Mr. Donaldson continued, clearly enjoying himself, “you’ll do me the favor, please, of going back out there and informing my daughter and the rest of that mob that I’ve not set to with a fever or anything, won’t you?”
“I’ll do my best, Mr.—”
“Donaldson. And my daughter is Anne. Now, which way am I going, son?”
“To the left, Mr. Donaldson,” Brodie repeated with a shake of his head and a smile. Life on a small island, eh?
Kali looked perfectly bemused, and who could blame her? Not on the island twenty-four hours and already she was being set up by the locals. He sniggered, thinking of how animals always tried to widen the gene pool when their numbers dwindled. Maybe Mr. Donaldson was trying to increase the population of Dunregan. Ha!
Kali shot him a look. Whoops. Had that been an outside laugh?
“Later...” he stage-whispered. “I will explain everything later.”
If she was going to carry the lance for him regarding the Ebola virus he owed her. As for the whole eligible bachelor thing... Well... At least Mr. Donaldson didn’t think he was going to catch the plague.
“Where do you want me?”
“Just over here, Mr. Donaldson. Kali, would you mind helping me get our most loyal and truehearted patient up onto the examination table?”
“Oh, son. Don’t go about trying to set me up with this young lassie because I’ve embarrassed you. That’s what old people do. It’s our specialty. My courting days are over. Mrs. Donaldson was more than enough woman for me,” Mr. Donaldson scolded as he eased himself up onto the table. “Let’s look at this foot, if you don’t mind. What a silly old codger! I was away with the faeries when I was cutting the peat and there was a two-hour wait to see Dr. O’Shea. All this silliness going on over you and the Ebola nonsense...” He shook his head at the madness of it all. “As if someone could contract Ebola on an island this cold!”
He looked at the pair of them for agreement that his hypothesis was a good one.
“Well, it doesn’t really work like that...” Brodie began reluctantly.
“Ach, away! I know perfectly well how it works, Brodie McClellan. I was trying to make a joke. Your face is more somber than most folk look at a funeral! Yours, too, dear.”
He gave a little cackle and patted Kali’s hand as she helped him shift his legs up onto the examination table.
“You go on out there, dear, and please explain—very loudly—to my daughter that no one is catching Ebola on this island if Dr. McClellan says so. John McClellan’s son would do no such thing.”
Brodie looked away, surprised at the hard sting of emotion hitting him.
Even after he’d passed his father was still looking after him.
He cleared his throat and refocused his attention when he felt Kali shift her gaze from Mr. Donaldson’s twinkling eyes up to him. There was something almost anxious in her expression. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. And just as quickly it was gone, replaced by a warm, generous smile.
“It would be my very distinct pleasure to answer any of your daughter’s questions, Mr. Donaldson.”
“Thank you very much. All right, then, dear. Leave us men folk to inspect my idiocy. I’d like to get it bandaged up so I can get the rest of the peat in without the whole of Dunregan knowing I rent my foot in half.”
Kali left the room, throwing a final smile over her shoulder at the pair of them. A smile that awoke an entirely new set of sensations in Brodie. He’d done little to nothing to deserve the understanding she’d shown him today.
“Aye, she’s a right fine lassie. Isn’t she, Dr. McClellan?”
“What?” Brodie turned his attention back to Mr. Donaldson.
“You’re not suggesting I’m losing my eyesight as well, are you, son?”
“Absolutely not, but—”
“But nothing. When someone like that arrives on the island, you take notice.”
They both turned to look at the closed door, as if it would offer some further insight, but no. It was just a door, covered in various and sundry health notices and how-to sheets. No lessons in romance, or changing terrible first impressions.
Brodie closed down that thought process. Kali wasn’t here to be wooed. Or won. And he had a patient!
“Right, Mr. Donaldson...when was the last time you had a tetanus booster?”