Surgeon Boss, Surprise Dad

Visual changes. Pin-prickling sensations in his fingers. Numbness in his hands. Fatigue. Muscle aches and weakness. Headaches.

Hell. It could be true.

If it was true, his entire life would never be the same.

If true, he would lose everything he’d ever held dear. His career. Liz.

Because there was no way in hell he’d ever tie Liz to a doomed man, and if he had MS that’s exactly how he saw himself. Doomed.

CHAPTER THREE

FROM where Liz spoke to the director of the assisted living facility where she was donating Gramps’s medical equipment, she glanced toward the man coming through the automatic glass door.

Despite the gloom of the occasion and her grief of the past week and a half, her heart lightened at seeing Adam. Her gaze met his blue one and she flashed a quick smile at him, but he looked distracted. Actually, he’d seemed distracted all morning.

Bless him, he’d been really busy in the OR ever since he’d run into complications with a breast cancer patient’s mastectomy on the day after Gramps’s funeral. He’d spent the night at the hospital in case the woman had problems during the night. Since then, they’d gone to dinner a few times, but he’d been distracted, his mind obviously on work.

Kind, dedicated, dependable, decent—all those words described the man carrying in Gramps’s nearly new walker.

“Is there anything more?” she asked, feeling guilty that he’d had to finish by himself. She’d helped carry in the first load, but the medical director had stopped her to express gratitude for the equipment that would now be loaned out to those in need.

“I think this is the last of it except for the hospital bed,” Adam said, placing the walker next to the other items he’d carried in. Beneath his T-shirt his muscles rippled and Liz sighed in appreciation of his physical beauty. No doubt about it, Adam was a gorgeous man, but his inner beauty was what had stolen her heart.

He’d borrowed a friend’s truck and helped haul the equipment. Getting rid of the medical equipment, the signs of Gramps’s prolonged illness, had seemed the easiest place to start in going through his things. Besides, she needed that hospital bed out of her living room or she was going to cry herself silly. Her grandfather would have wanted the equipment donated to some needy person who might otherwise have to do without.

Yes, giving away the equipment was a good beginning. She’d tackle Gramps’s wardrobe and closet later, when she felt stronger, more capable of dealing with the emotional baggage that would come with doing so.

She glanced toward Adam and found him clutching the handles of Gramps’s walker. White-knuckled, he wore a far-away look, as if he imagined being forced to use assistive devices for ambulation. Was he remembering the few times early in their relationship when Gramps had puttered along behind the walker he’d quickly grown too debilitated to use?

“I’ll get a couple of male employees to assist you with the hospital bed,” Glenda volunteered, interrupting Liz’s heartfelt stare.

Whatever Adam’s thoughts, he shook them off and nodded at the director. “Thanks.”

Two maintenance workers helped guide the bed off the truck and they rolled it inside the building.

Liz bit the inside of her lip as she watched the bed being rolled down the hallway.

“It’ll be alright,” Adam said from beside her. She glanced toward him, his gaze fixed on the disappearing hospital bed. At first she’d thought he was reassuring her, but despite the fact he stood next to her, he didn’t seem aware she was there. His attention riveted on that bed, not her.

In her grief she’d forgotten that during the time she and he had been dating, Adam had spent a lot of time with her grandfather. He’d loved Gramps, too.

Oh, Gramps.

“It seems strange,” she said softly, placing her hand on Adam’s arm. “That bed has been a central part of my life for so many months. When I think that I’ll never see it again, I…” Her voice trailed off.

Adam’s gaze cut to her. He took her hand and gave a gentle squeeze. “I know.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Losing Gramps is the hardest thing I’ve ever dealt with. You’ve been so wonderful, Adam. I can’t imagine not having you by my side.”

An odd look passed over his face. One she almost thought laden with guilt. But that was ridiculous. Adam had nothing to be guilty about. Still, the look caused nervous tremors in her stomach.

“Oh, Liz! We’re so happy with the equipment. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” Glenda gushed, returning to their side. The woman sent an engaging smile toward Adam. “And, Dr Cline, it’s always a pleasure to see you.”

Liz thought so, but wasn’t sure she liked the way Glenda eyed Adam’s body. Still, she couldn’t blame the woman for admiring what so deserved female admiration.

Adam in form-fitting but not too tight jeans and his black T-shirt was the kind of pin-up calendar fantasy women dreamed of meeting in real life.

“I know you aren’t dressed for house calls…” Glenda swept her gaze over Adam again “…but Irene Guess has a wound I think is going to need debridement. About a year ago she had a similar wound she was hospitalized for. Would you mind taking a quick look so I’ll know whether or not to schedule an appointment? It’s so hard for her to get in and out, not to mention getting her a ride. I thought while you’re here you might have a quick look.”

Adam didn’t bat an eyelid at being asked to check a patient during his day off. But Liz couldn’t help but wonder if it bothered him because he rubbed his right temple. He caught her watching him and quickly dropped his hand.

Finding his behavior odd, Liz followed him and Glenda to check on Mrs Guess. The older woman was sitting on her sofa, watching a soap opera. She seemed more interested in the program than in discussing the wound the director was concerned about.

Adam washed his hands, massaging the soap into his fingertips for longer than normal, once again making Liz question if he felt OK. But with a smile on his face, he dried his hands before putting on gloves and assessing the older lady, asking about the sore that had come up on her abdomen.

“I don’t know what caused it,” Mrs Guess said in her sweet grandmotherly voice, her gaze still on the television. “I woke up with a red spot one morning, and each day it’s worse than it was the day before.”

“Does the area drain?”

The woman waited until a man on television finished expounding an argument in court to a serious-looking jury. Once the scene cut to a commercial, she shifted her glasses-rimmed eyes to Adam. “Yellowish stuff is on the bandage when I take it off.”

“Can you show me the place while sitting, or do I need to help you lie down?”

“You can see.” Mrs Guess raised her shirt and lifted a pasty white skin roll. A gauze pad crumpled. She removed the pad and held the bandage out. “This is the drainage I was talking about. Just yellowish gunk.”

“I see.” But Adam’s gaze had already taken a quick glance at the dirty dressing and gone to the ulceration on the woman’s abdomen. An open nickel-sized lesion with a large area of surrounding redness oozed a sticky honey-colored exudate. Streaks of angry red shot out.

Liz had seen worse wounds, but Mrs Guess did have a serious problem. From the look of the ulcer and drainage, she’d need IV antibiotics and possibly isolation as discovering MRSA had caused the infection wouldn’t surprise her.

“Have you had a fever, Mrs Guess?”

“How am I supposed to know?” She seemed annoyed that Adam had asked her another question now that the program she’d been watching had come back on.

“I don’t have a thermometer, but I have felt a tad warm the past day or two. I thought it was from the heat.”

Adam took her hand, forcing her to keep her attention on him rather than the television. “You’ve got an infection. From the way the wound looks, I suspect a particular strand of Staph.” He confirmed Liz’s suspicions. After burning the gloves and washing his hands again, Adam returned to Mrs Guess’s side. “I’m going to call for a non-emergency ambulance to take you to the hospital.”

The woman looked alarmed. “The hospital? Surely a little sore isn’t that serious?”

“It can be. You need strong antibiotics through an IV. In the morning I’ll recheck you and may opt to surgically clean the wound. Similar to what I did last year to the place on your leg.” Placing his fingertips to his temple, Adam closed his eyes and rubbed the spot for such a brief moment that someone who didn’t know him so well might have missed the tell-tale action. Liz saw.

Did he have a headache? After he finished with Mrs Guess, she’d offer to drive the truck back to his place, run him a hot bath, maybe give him a neck rub. Goodness knew, he hadn’t been getting enough rest with the hours he was pulling at the hospital. But he’d said he needed to make up for the couple of days he’d taken off to be with her following Gramps’s death.

But when Adam turned to Liz, any traces of a problem had disappeared and he wore only a concerned professional expression. “I’ll drop you by your place and meet the ambulance at the hospital. That way I can do a direct admission and Mrs Guess won’t have to go through the emergency room.”

“I’ll go with you.” She’d be there when he finished. She wanted to ask him about his headache, to make sure he got some rest tonight. He’d been taking such good care of her. Tonight she’d make him prop his feet up and she’d pamper him.

Not meeting her eyes, he shook his head. “No, I’ll drop you at your place. I may be a while.”