Love - From His Point Of View!: Meeting at Midnight. Maureen Child

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СКАЧАТЬ paramedics who brought you in are both men,” the doctor said. There was something irritating about his voice. And familiar. “Now, sir, please cooperate. You’ve lost a good deal of blood. You aren’t thinking clearly.”

      Pete spoke up. “I think he’s talking about the woman who found him. The officer at the scene was going to send her here. Exposure or something like that.”

      “What? What’s wrong with her?” I needed to sit up.

      “Aguilar,” the doctor snapped, planting a hand firmly on my good shoulder, “if you’re determined to clutter up my examination room, at least do so silently. Mr. McClain, I will promise to check on this mystery woman once I’m satisfied with your condition. Be still.”

      I subsided, unable to do much else. What had happened to her? Exposure…had she put her coat over me, and suffered for it? I couldn’t remember. The officer at the scene…oh, God. Duncan. Duncan worked nights. He would hear about my accident on the police radio, and think I was dead or something. “I need—”

      “What you need, Mr. McClain, is medical attention. Which I am attempting to give you. If you won’t hold still, I will have you strapped down. Roberts, get that mask back on him.”

      The world was taking on that sick spin again, which was the fault of that prissy doctor. I wouldn’t be so wiped out if he’d quit arguing and cooperate. As it was, the nurse defeated me easily, fitting the mask over my face. I decided to suck down some of the oxygen they were determined to give me, get my strength back and try again.

      “Not enough blood,” he muttered as he snipped at whatever was holding my shoulder together. “The man’s in shock, there should be…what the hell?”

      I didn’t like the sound of that.

      “What is it?” one of the medical crowd asked.

      “Look at this. There, see?” He pointed at my shoulder, not quite touching it. I couldn’t see a thing. His hands were in the way. “That’s newly formed flesh. And this section is scabbed over. That’s not right. It’s…” He looked at me accusingly. “Mr. McClain. This is an old injury, isn’t it? Several days old, at least.”

      Idiot. I stared at him stonily over the top of the oxygen mask.

      He sighed and pulled the mask down. “Did you injure your shoulder a few days ago?”

      “No. I think a tree limb punched through the window and pierced it when my truck rolled. I—”

      “Impossible.”

      Obviously not, since it had happened. But arguing with idiots is a waste of breath, and I didn’t have breath to spare. “I need to call my brother—Officer Duncan McClain.”

      “You did not lose any substantial amount of blood from this wound tonight.”

      I gave up and turned my head. “Pete, I need to call Duncan.”

      Pete looked at me helplessly. “I imagine someone has already called him. He’ll be here soon.”

      “No!” I’d had enough of lying flat while everyone ignored me. I struggled up onto one elbow. Things spun for a second and my forehead turned clammy, but I made it.

      “Lie down, Mr. McClain.”

      “Why? You decided maybe I am hurt, after all? Pete, I need to call Duncan myself. Don’t want him worried. I—”

      “This man creating a disturbance?” said a voice from the doorway.

      “I tried to stop him, Doctor,” said a harried female. “He wouldn’t listen.”

      Relief hit like a slap in the face, puncturing my anger. My strength drained right out with it, so I let the nurse ease me back down. “I’m okay, Duncan.”

      “Yeah?” The man who cut through the medical crowd to stand by my bed was shorter and lighter than I am. Better looking, too, with smoother features and eyes as pale as mine are dark. We have the same hair, though. Dark brown and board straight.

      Duncan had on his blank face, the one that makes him a good cop and annoys the hell out of me. Never have been able to read the boy when he doesn’t want to be read. He put a hand on my good shoulder and squeezed lightly. “I can see that you are.”

      “I am,” I insisted. But I was sure tired, and the pain wasn’t coming in waves anymore. It was this huge, steady presence, almost solid. I felt as if I’d bounced myself off that solid mass of pain a few times too many and rattled my brains. “Truck’s a mess, though.”

      One side of Duncan’s mouth quirked up. “You’ve looked better yourself.”

      “Yeah, well…I tried to call you, but this stupid—”

      “Now, now,” he said.

      “Belligerence is not uncommon with those in shock,” the doctor said, all pompous and tolerant. “I’m afraid your brother’s attitude is impeding his treatment, however. Normally I would not allow a family member to be present at this point, but if you can persuade him to cooperate, Officer, you may remain.”

      As if he could stop Duncan. I snorted.

      “Belligerent, is he?” For some reason that made Duncan smile. He squeezed my good shoulder again. Anxiety nestled in the corners of his eyes, keeping the smile out, but I could read him now.

      I relaxed. If Duncan didn’t need his blank face, he wasn’t too upset.

      “You heard the man, Ben. Play nice.”

      “Man’s an idiot,” I muttered, but someone had tied weights on my eyelids. They were closing in spite of me. It was all right, though. Duncan would keep an eye on the idiot. He’d take care of things. “You’ll tell Zach…make it so he doesn’t worry.”

      “I will.”

      Good. That was good. The darkness beckoned, no longer threatening. “And the angel,” I murmured as I let myself go. “You’ll find her for me.”

      Doctors and nurses are not reasonable people.

      No question about who was in charge, and it wasn’t me. Admittedly, I wasn’t in any shape to go home right away. After they’d finished poking and stitching and X-raying me, pumping me full of antibiotics and O-negative, they finally strapped me into a fancy sling and put me in a room where I could get some sleep. Then, of course, they kept waking me up.

      In spite of this, I felt a lot better by late afternoon. But no one was interested in my opinion of my condition. Mostly they seemed irritated that it wasn’t worse. At least that prissy E.R. doctor was out of the picture now.

      I’d finally remembered where I knew him from. Twentysome years ago, Harold Meckle, M.D., had been a couple of grades behind me in school. Harry had been a certified brain back then, so he was probably a competent doctor now. But it would take a personality transplant to turn him into a competent human being.

      Harry had a real bee in his bonnet about my shoulder. At one point he’d actually wanted to do surgery СКАЧАТЬ