The Doctor's Christmas Wish

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_239d1195-2bba-5268-b0a0-cecb2df7c6eb)

The house phone rang at 10:33 p.m. on the Sunday after Thanksgiving. The high-pitched sound yanked Ethan Scott’s attention away from the television screen and the football game he’d carved out time to watch live, no distractions.

Who would be calling at this hour?

The hitch in his breath was born out of a hidden fear he kept tucked deep inside his soul. When his parents were killed in a fatal car crash, Ethan had been the first to get the news. As the oldest of four, he had to identify the bodies, to inform his three younger siblings and to handle all the funeral arrangements.

He’d completed each task without hesitation, and had been forced to repeat an eerily similar process a year and a half ago when another deadly car accident had taken his fiancée.

The incessant ringing continued.

Like a shock wave, old memories rippled across new. Ethan’s previously easy, relaxed mood spiraled into something darker.

He debated ignoring the call. Few people had his home number, and any medical emergency would either go to his answering service or come through on his cell phone.

The ringing stopped.

Banishing unwanted memories and the emotions they brought, Ethan sat back to enjoy the game. The Broncos were about to score a touchdown.

The ringing started up again.

Ethan’s gut took a hard roll. Surely the Lord wouldn’t deal him another blow, wouldn’t make him suffer through another unexpected goodbye. He’d had enough sorrow for one lifetime. He put the game on mute, then made the short trek from living room to kitchen.

The sound of doggy toenails clicking on the tile floor alerted him that his treasured black Lab had followed him. He patted Baloo on the head and then glanced at the caller ID.

Keely O’Toole. Ethan’s gut took another hard roll, for an entirely different reason this time.

His neighbor was one of the few women in town he tended to avoid, for reasons he didn’t want to explore tonight. Or ever.

Since Keely made a habit of avoiding him as well, he figured whatever had incited her to call the house—twice—on the landline—had to be important.

He snatched up the telephone receiver. “Ethan speaking.”

A short, tense pause sounded on the other end of the line, followed by a weary female sigh. “Is Ryder around? He’s not answering his cell phone.”

“Hello to you, too, Keely.”

She sighed again, the sound filled with frustration. “Is Ryder home or not?”

“Not. He’s working the night shift at the hospital.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Something in her voice put Ethan on alert. He could practically feel Keely’s agitation coming through the phone. Both his younger brothers were doctors. But where Ethan was a primary care physician and Brody was working for Doctors Without Borders, Ryder specialized in emergency medicine.

If she was calling Ryder this late at night...

“Talk to me, Keely. What’s going on?”

“I need your help.”

Four words Ethan never expected to come out the woman’s mouth, at least not directed at him.

Something must be seriously wrong. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s not me. It’s Felicity. She’s really sick and I don’t know what to do. Should I take her out in this weather, to the ER waiting room, or do I hold off, pray it’ll go away? I’m really, really worried.”

She was also rambling. Another first.

Ethan mentally sorted through her words, stopping on an unfamiliar name. Felicity. Who was Felicity? His mind went blank. Then he remembered the little girl who had moved in with Keely over the holiday weekend. He didn’t know the whole story, only that Keely was the child’s legal guardian for an indefinite amount of time.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s complaining of stomach pain.”

In full doctor mode now, Ethan digested this piece of information. “Any vomiting?”

“Just once, about an hour ago.”

“When did she last eat?”

“Around six.”

He checked his watch, did a mental calculation between regular dinner hours and now. “What did she eat?”

“A hamburger, fries, oh, and a cinnamon roll. I know they aren’t the healthiest choices, but she starts school tomorrow and I took her to the mall to buy her some new clothes. You might think it’s odd I’m putting her in school two weeks before Christmas break, but I wanted her to meet other kids before—”

He cut her off. “Hold up. Does she have a fever?”

Keely blew out a loud hiss. “I checked it right before I called Ryder’s cell phone. The thermometer said 99.7 degrees. Can you... Ethan, please, can you come over and look at Felicity?”

“On my way.” He hung up the phone and headed for the mudroom just off the kitchen.

Baloo trotted past him and took up position at the back door, a hopeful expression in his coal-black eyes. Normally, Ethan would indulge the dog. He and the black Lab had been through a lot of hard times since Ethan rescued the animal during his tour in Afghanistan.

“Sorry, buddy, you can’t come with me.”

Baloo whined, the sound pitiful and well honed from years of conning Ethan.