Lightning Strikes

“You’re lucky you’re not in surgery about now. As is, you’re only suffering from a scalp wound.”

“If that’s so, Doc, why did I bleed all over creation?”

“Head wounds often do that, Mr. Osburn.”

He cut his eyes to Liz Roberts, the buxom, gray-headed nurse who was aiding Amanda. “That so?”

Amanda met Liz’s green eyes over the man’s head, and they both smiled. “Of course she’s right. She’s the doctor.”

“That don’t make her right,” he retorted. “In fact, I don’t care much for women doctors.”

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way,” Amanda said, not in the least sorry, “but you’re stuck with me.”

“On a night like this,” Liz added, “you should be grateful someone’s available to help you.”

He snorted, then rubbed his beard, a beard that Amanda thought looked as if it had never been washed. She bet it had lice in it. She raised a silent toast to the person who invented gloves.

“How much longer, Doc?” he asked, beginning to squirm.

“Please, don’t move,” Amanda responded, taking another meticulous stitch in the deep gash above his left eye.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry, but that beer bottle—”

“Beer bottle, hell!” he cut in, his whiskey voice lowered to an even rougher pitch. “It was the damn woman who hit me. Why, she weighs more than I do and is stronger.”

Amanda quelled her urge to give him a gash over the other eye. This brute of a man probably deserved what he got, but judging those whom she administered to didn’t fall under her job description. Besides, she knew the man was in real pain. If the cut had been any deeper, he’d be upstairs in Noah’s care.

Noah.

Her body tensed, and for a second, her hand stopped in midaction, which instantly garnered a puzzled look from the nurse. Amanda couldn’t allow herself to step into that hole. Further thoughts of Dr. Howell were definitely taboo.

Anyway, who had time to dwell on personal issues? She certainly didn’t, not tonight, not when the whole town was in crisis. The weather was worsening along with the emergencies at Vanderbilt. The care and responsibility of the ER fell to her and Dr. Sloane.

The radio announcers were reiterating what the police had said, encouraging people to stay indoors, not to venture out unless it was absolutely necessary. So much for cooperation, Amanda thought, as this man had been boozing it up in a bar.

“All finished, Mr. Osburn.”

“‘Bout time,” he mumbled, reaching up to the bandage, only to drop his hand quickly. “Damn, that hurt!”

“I’ll write you a prescription for pain. In a few days, you’ll need to see your doctor.”

“Ain’t got no doctor.”

“Come back in two weeks, and I’ll take the stitches out.”

He muttered something else under his breath, then slid off the table and shuffled out of the room, just as the wail of a siren sounded close by.

“Do you think this night’ll ever end?” Liz asked, her forehead creased in a frown.

Amanda shook her head. “Doesn’t look like it. Even as we speak, another ambulance just pulled up.”

“Well, you just let me see what’s going on. If I need help, I’ll get Beth. Meanwhile, take a break and put on a clean coat. That creep was right. He did bleed like a stuck pig.”

“Thanks, Liz. But this is not all that creep’s blood.”

“Ah, right,” Liz remarked in a sober tone. “You worked on those kids.”

Amanda’s mouth turned down. “I hope the girl pulls through. Which reminds me, I should check on the boy.”

“He’s doing fine. In fact, Karen said his parents might even be able to take him home.”

“If they can get here.”

Liz frowned again. “Isn’t that the truth? I’ve never seen weather like this in all my fifty-five years.”

“Me, neither.”

“But then, you’re not fifty-five.” Liz smiled.

“Maybe not in years,” Amanda said, “but miles—now, that’s a different story.”

“Go on, get out of here,” Liz ordered. “If you’re needed, you know I’ll call or text you.”

Amanda smiled briefly, then headed for the door. “I’ll be in the lounge.”

Ten minutes later, she had slipped into a clean lab coat and was sipping on a canned soda that the machine had spit out. She’d thought about munching on a package of cheese and crackers, but she didn’t think her stomach would take them. Although she was hungry, having skipped dinner, food was the last thing she wanted. What she did want was this nightmare of a storm to end and things to settle back to normal.

More than even that, she wanted to pretend she hadn’t seen Noah. But she had, and apparently he was there to stay, in the flesh, better-looking than even she had remembered, though she didn’t see how that could be possible.

What was possible was that in the few seconds when he’d said, “Hello, Amanda,” the new life she’d made for herself seemed perilously close to crashing around her.

Tunneling her free hand through her silky blond strands, Amanda sat on the sofa, only to find no solace for her body or her mind. Seconds later she lurched to her feet as another crack of thunder shook the building. And the lights.

“Please, dear Lord, don’t let the generator go out,” she whispered, beginning to pace.

She knew she should check on the Collier girl. Was she still in surgery? Whatever the case, she was in the best hands, literally. No matter how she felt about Noah personally, professionally he was the best surgeon in the hospital.

Even with that gifted ability, Amanda wasn’t sure he could pull off the miracle of saving that girl, not when she had been injured so badly internally.

Amanda shivered, not from the temperature but from the impossible situation. She couldn’t solve all the world’s problems. Her hang-up with the Collier girl was that she’d been responsible for three kids for so long she couldn’t seem to let go.

When it came to Noah, she fared no better. She didn’t want to work with him. She didn’t want to be in the same room with him, for heaven’s sake! Staring at him across a gurney, even after all those months, had resurrected a myriad of hard-hitting emotions: anxiety, fear, apprehension, to name a few.

But it was the base instincts that infuriated her. She had been helpless in preventing her palms from growing moist—not due to the gloves, either. Or keeping beads of sweat from gathering between her breasts—not due to her bra, either.

Again, their unexpected encounter had left her totally splattered, something, quite frankly, she hadn’t expected. But his well-honed body had looked so masculine, and familiar, and good that she had felt the floor shift under her feet. And when their eyes met, the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. Even worse had been watching his hands—hands that had explored every inch of her body—touch the patient.

She ridiculed herself for that reaction. Where the hell was her pride? At the moment, in tatters. Yet, she refused to be duped again by his moody good looks and strong sexual pull.

Anyway, she had Gordon, a fact that brought her immediate comfort. Maybe he wasn’t as charismatic or as exciting, but who needed those? Gordon was loyal and dependable—Noah was neither.

Nor was he stable. Maybe someone else would take issue with that statement, but she knew better. A stable person wouldn’t have pulled the stunt he did. And stability meant everything. She’d already had enough discord in her life to last a lifetime.

Her goal of easing into private practice seemed more inviting than ever. Amanda’s mouth took on a sullen slant. However, she didn’t intend to let Noah know that. While she would continue to avoid him, she wouldn’t be intimidated.

She’d just do what she’d done earlier—pretend he didn’t matter.

“Lordy, I can’t believe you’re here, much less alone.”

Amanda’s Coke sloshed onto her white coat, and she groaned. Then she turned and glared at her friend, Doris Conner, director of Physical Therapy.

Doris was petite with dark hair and eyes that narrowed when she grinned. And she grinned a lot. Amanda thought she looked like a fragile doll, although there was nothing fragile about her personality or her ability.

“See what you made me do?”

Doris chuckled, then flinched as another bout of lightning and thunder assaulted the premises. “Damn, is this the end of the world, or what?”

Amanda didn’t bother to reply. Instead, she just shook her head and smiled, wondering what she would’ve done if she hadn’t had Doris’s shoulder to cry on, literally, after Noah left her. They became friends a week after Amanda had come to work at Vanderbilt, and their friendship had continued to grow.

Doris, who was originally from Texas, had hit the hospital like a small hurricane, Texas twang and all. Amanda loved to hear her talk, for some of her expressions were priceless. She was engaged to a nifty guy, who, thank goodness, knew what a treasure he had.

“How come you’re still here?” Amanda asked at last.

Doris plopped down on the sofa. “Are you kidding? Charley told me to stay put, that I shouldn’t even think of trying to drive home in this mess.”

“He’s right, you know. No telling how many streets are flooded.”

“So how about you?” Doris pinched the bridge of her nose. “When are you getting off?”

“Never.”

“I hear you.”

“In fact, I’m amazed my phone isn’t screeching even as we speak.”

“Give it time,” Doris said drolly.

There was a moment of silence, then Doris spoke again. “So how was it?”

“It what?” Amanda responded, feigning innocence, unwilling to reopen that can of worms. But she knew how tenacious her friend was. She wouldn’t give up without a fight.

“Cut the nonsense, okay?”

“I wanted to slug him. Now, are you happy?”

Doris grinned. “Yeah! If it’s the truth.”

“Actually, seeing Noah was no big deal,” Amanda lied, but in what she hoped was a convincing tone. She couldn’t bring herself to mention her initial reaction to Noah, not even to Doris. After what he’d put her through, it was too humiliating.

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