The Best Of Us. Robyn Carr

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СКАЧАТЬ back the towel slowly and a fresh swell of blood came out of a long, mean-looking gash across the palm of his hand. “Good news—you’re getting out of dishes for a while. Bad news—you’re getting stitches. Plenty of them.”

      “Aww...”

      “I’ll numb it, no worries.”

      “I have practice,” he mumbled. “Baseball...”

      “I don’t think that’s going to work out for you,” she said. “This is a bad cut. Let’s do this, okay?”

      “I’m staying, if that’s all right,” Rob said.

      “Sure,” she said. “Just stay out of my work space.” Leigh picked up the prepared syringe and injected Finn’s palm around the gash. “Only the first prick of the needle hurts,” she explained. She dabbed the cut with gauze. “It’s not as deep as it looks. I don’t think you’ve cut anything that’s going to impact movement. If I had even a question about that, I’d send you to a hand surgeon. It’s superficial. Still serious, but...”

      Eleanor provided drapes, covering Finn, lying the hand on an absorbent pad that was on top of a flat, hard, polyurethane tray that was placed on his belly.

      “Are you comfortable with the hand on this tray?”

      “Okay,” he said.

      Leigh tapped his palm with a hemostat. “Feel that?”

      “Nope,” he said.

      “Good. Then can I trust you not to move if we let your hand rest right here?”

      “I won’t move. Is it still gushing?”

      “Just some minor bleeding and I’m going to stop that quickly,” she said. Eleanor turned the Mayo stand so it hovered over Finn’s body and was within Leigh’s easy reach. Leigh cleaned the gash, applied antiseptic, picked up the needle with a hemostat and began to stitch. She dabbed away blood, tossing used gauze four-by-fours back on the Mayo stand, making a nice pile. “You really did a number on this hand,” she said. “You must have hit that broken glass hard.”

      “I was hurrying,” Finn said. “I wanted to get everything done so I could get to practice.”

      “Yeah, that backfired,” she said. “Safety first, Finn.”

      She dropped the bloody towel on the floor, stacked up more bloody gauze squares, applied a few more stitches. Then there was a sound behind her—a low, deep groan and a swoosh. Rob, his face roughly the color of toothpaste, leaned against the wall and slid slowly to the floor. “Rob,” she said. “I want you to stay right where you are, sitting on the floor, until I finish here. It won’t be long.”

      “Ugh,” he said.

      “You going to be sick?” she asked.

      He was shaking his head but, fast as lightning, Eleanor passed a basin to him. “Stay down,” the nurse instructed. “Don’t try to stand up yet. That never works out.”

      “I’ll be done in a couple of minutes,” Leigh said. Then she chuckled softly. “The bigger they are...”

      “Did my dad faint?” Finn asked.

      “Of course not,” Leigh said. “He’s just taking a load off.” She snipped the thread and dabbed at the wound. “Dang, kid. Fourteen stitches. It’s going to swell and hurt. I’m going to give you an antibiotic to fight off any infection and some pain pills. Eleanor is going to bandage your hand. Don’t get it wet. Do not take the bandage off. If you think the bandage has to come off, come in and see me. If I’m not here and you think that bandage has to come off for some reason, do not touch it. Call my cell. No matter what time it is. Now tell me, what is the most important thing to remember about the bandage?”

      “Don’t take it off?” he asked.

      “You’re a genius,” she said. “You come back in three days and we’ll look at it together, then wrap it up again. I want you to keep it elevated, so Eleanor will give you a sling.”

      “Aw, man...”

      “Don’t argue with me about this. If you dangle your hand down at your side or try to use it, you’re going to have more bleeding, swelling and pain. Are we on the same page here?”

      “Yeah. Jeez.”

      “He’s all yours, Eleanor. Tell him about Press’n Seal.”

      She pulled off her gloves, sat on her little stool and rolled over to where Rob was propped against the wall. His knees were raised and he rested his forearms on them. “I’m fine now,” he said. But he didn’t move. She noticed a glistening sheen of sweat on his upper lip.

      “Don’t try to stand yet,” she said. “Close your eyes. Touch your chin to your chest. Yeah, that’s it.” She gently massaged his shoulders and neck for a moment. Then she put her hands on his head and gently rubbed his scalp. She massaged his temples briefly, then moved back to his scalp. She heard him moan softly but this time it wasn’t because he was about to faint. It was because it felt good. And she knew if it felt good and he relaxed, his blood would circulate better and he’d recover quickly. This little trick of massaging would take Rob’s mind off his light-headedness and perhaps any nausea. “So, you’re not so good with blood?” she asked very quietly.

      “I’ve seen plenty of blood,” he said. “Just not plenty of my son’s blood.” He took a deep breath. “I thought he cut his hand off.”

      “Not even close,” she said. “It was a gusher, though. Some parts of the body really bleed. Like the head. You can get a cut on your head that’s about an eighth of an inch, doesn’t even need a stitch, and the blood flow will still ruin a perfectly good shirt. It’s amazing.” She kept massaging his head with her fingertips while Eleanor bandaged Finn’s hand. Eleanor was asking him about baseball and what college he’d be going to, and they even talked about his friends, most of whom Eleanor knew.

      “Did I hit my head?” Rob asked.

      “I don’t think there was anything to hit it on. Why? You feel a sore spot or dizziness or something?”

      “I think I hear bells or birds chirping,” he said. He lifted his chin and looked up at her. He smiled very handsomely. “You keep doing that and I’m going to want to take you home with me.”

      She pulled her hands away. “You couldn’t afford me. I’m wicked expensive.”

      He laughed. “I bet you are. Come down to the bar. I’ll buy you a drink.”

      “That’s neighborly. You feeling better? Want to get up?”

      “Yeah,” he said. Then he pulled himself to his feet and towered over her. “He’s never going to let me live that down.”

      “Sure I will, Dad,” Finn said from the table. “Some people just can’t take the tough stuff.”

      “I seriously thought we were holding his hand together with that towel. Aw, look. We got blood on you,” he said, touching Leigh’s sleeve.

      “I СКАЧАТЬ