It was the blonde who’d, like the Queen of England, so casually dumped her kids on the overworked receptionist. “I’m Abby Cahill, the director of nursing. I understand there’s a problem?”
He was starting to feel woozy, now that the pain meds were hitting his system, but he wasn’t too out of it to catch her patronizing tone. “I just need to take care of this quickly and get home. In fact, I could probably just leave right now.” He winced as he started to sit up. She gently pushed him back down. “If I keep it bandaged—”
“Mr. Rockwell!” She blew out an exasperated sigh. “I really don’t believe you’re thinking clearly right now. Do you realize how serious this is?”
First patronizing, now insulting. He felt his blood pressure kick up another notch. “I can’t go to Green Bay. What about my son? Keifer must be terrified.”
“Beth is entertaining him,” Abby said quietly. “As for you, the helicopter should be here in fifteen minutes. When it arrives, you need to get on it.”
He muttered under his breath as the room began to spin. “You don’t understand. He’s only ten, and—”
“He’ll be fine. I’m sure the hospital social worker can handle this.”
He bristled at her nonchalance. “I—I will not pawn him off on a total stranger.”
“Mr. Rockwell—”
“This is...the first time I’ve had him for an entire summer. I don’t know any child-care people. But—” he gripped the rails of the gurney as his stomach started to pitch “—that doesn’t mean I’ll let him go with just anybody.”
“Our social worker is very trustworthy. I’m sure she knows some good families—people who work here at the hospital, even.” Abby nodded decisively and headed for the door. “We’ll get Linda in here right now, and see what we can come up with.”
Abby was back in five minutes with a bony, middle-aged woman who looked about as comforting as a truant officer. “This is Mrs. Groden.”
Frowning, the woman stepped to his bedside. “Our local foster families are full right now, but I’ll certainly find a place for your son if you’re admitted in Green Bay.”
“Overnight? No way.”
“Rest assured—”
“How assured will Keifer feel, with someone we’ve never even met?” He tried to shake off the nurse who’d started taking his blood pressure again, but she clucked impatiently and he gave in.
“All right, then,” Abby said. “You’ve met me, at least. I can keep him for the rest of the day. Overnight, if need be.”
Not on a bet. He’d already seen her in action with those rowdy kids of hers, and he wasn’t impressed. “I think...you have your hands full.”
She glanced impatiently at the clock. “I’ll just be here for an hour or so, until we can bring in a nurse to cover second shift. Your son will be safe with me until you get back. Scout’s honor.”
“No.” But his head was spinning in earnest now and his stomach was queasy. And now both Ms. Iceberg and her skinny social worker were starting to look a little like angels with fuzzy halos above their heads.
“I am a nurse, Mr. Rockwell.” Abby’s voice came from far away. “I’ll care for him as if he was my own.”
“I’d volunteer, but I’m on call all night.” The doctor’s voice floated by. “Abby’s an old friend of our hospital administrator and has taught nursing for many years. I assure you, your son couldn’t be in better hands.”
Ethan swallowed hard, fighting the inevitable. Then reached out blindly with his good arm for the plastic basin on the metal table next to his gurney.
Abby was there in an instant, one arm supporting his shoulders, the basin in position, and murmuring some sort of comforting words that barely registered as he threw up.
Minutes passed before he could find his voice. And he knew, finally, that he had to give in when the doc took another look at his arm and shook her head.
There was no way he could drive home.
“The Life Flight copter is just a few minutes out, Mr. Rockwell,” Abby said. “We need to get you ready for transport.”
“M-my keys.” He fumbled at his side with his good hand and found the truck keys in his jeans’ pocket. “Two miles...out of town. Right on the church road...ten, eleven miles to the old corn crib and north past the Peters' place. K-Keifer...knows.”
And then the light in the room faded and darkness enveloped him as he listened to the soft murmur of voices too distant to hear.
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Also by Roxanne Rustand
Coupled by Christmas
The Mistletoe Puppy
A Montana Christmas
An Irish Christmas Blessing
A London Christmas
A Scottish Christmas
Christmas in Paris: A clean and wholesome romance
Northern Pines series
One More Dance (Coming Soon)
