The Doctor's Christmas Wish

“Nope.” Felicity’s death grip released, as did Keely’s fear. But when Ethan moved his hands to the lower right portion of Felicity’s abdomen, Keely’s breath caught in her lungs.

“How about now?” he asked. “Does it hurt when I press here?”

“Not really.”

“You’re doing great, Flicka. Just a little bit longer and we’ll be through.” Ethan continued the rest of the exam with a firm but gentle manner.

When he held Felicity’s ankle with one hand and her knee with the other, then rotated her hip, the little girl simply watched him in silent fascination. No gasp of pain. No clenched fists in the comforter.

Keely nearly cried in relief.

Eventually, Ethan stood, said goodbye to Felicity, then motioned for Keely to follow him into the hallway.

The moment they were alone, she asked the question burning in her mind. “Is it her appendix?”

“Nothing indicates that particular diagnosis.”

What kind of cryptic, unhelpful answer was that? “Are you certain?”

“She’s not experiencing swelling in the abdomen or pain in the lower right region. At this point I don’t believe an ultrasound or additional lab work is necessary.”

He’d pitched his voice low, as if to calm her fears. Keely wasn’t appeased. “If it’s not her appendix, then what’s wrong with her?”

“She has a stomachache.”

His matter-of-fact tone increased her distress. “Is there something you can give her to make her feel better?”

“For now, there’s nothing to do but continue supportive measures. Keep her hydrated and resting. If the symptoms persist or worsen, call me and I’ll come back over.”

Why was he so calm? Didn’t he understand how worried she was? “I can’t bear seeing her in pain.”

“Keely, relax. Flicka has a stomachache, probably brought on by stress or the consumption of junk food or both.”

“You’re saying this is my fault because I let her eat junk food.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Kids suffer stomachaches all the time. I’m confident she’s going to be okay.”

Why didn’t she feel better? Why this terrible spasm of guilt in the center of her heart? “I feel so helpless.”

“You did the right thing calling me.”

Actually, she’d called Ryder. Ethan’s younger brother by two years was so much easier to take. Though he was just as good-looking as Ethan, nearly identical actually, with Ryder there was none of the friction and hostility she experienced in the company of this particular Dr. Scott.

“I mean it, Keely. You can call me anytime, no matter how late.”

She gaped at him. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because I’m a nice guy.” The grin he flashed her was full of the teenage boy she remembered, the one she’d spun a few girlhood dreams around, not the one who’d humiliated her in front of his friends, twice.

“Seriously, why?”

“I’m giving you a pass because you’re new to this parenting thing.” His eyes sparked with genuine compassion.

No fair. The man had amazing eyes, long-lashed and full of secrets. She saw sorrow there as well, more prominent than usual.

It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed that look in Ethan’s eyes. Their paths crossed a lot, primarily because he often came into her restaurant, Senor O’Toole’s, on his lunch break.

He might be the big, bad, frustrating bane of her existence. But the lone wolf image didn’t ring true, not tonight. Hardly ever, if she was being honest with herself. The raw vulnerability simmering under that tough exterior made Keely want to reach up and smooth away his pain.

She resisted. “Felicity’s really going to be all right?”

“For now.” He looked about to say more. He even opened his mouth, but then closed it and headed down the stairs.

Keely hurried after him, catching up just as he was shoving his arms through the sleeves of his coat.

He reached for the doorknob, then paused. “Call me,” he said. “Anytime, for any reason.”

There were so many ways to take that suggestion, even more ways to respond. She chose the most sincere. “I will, and thank you for coming over so quickly. I really appreciate your help tonight.”

“You’re welcome.” He gave her a warm smile.

Her heart stuttered. It actually stuttered.

“Good night, Keely.”

“Night, Ethan.”

Still smiling, he swung open the door. And disappeared into the night.

Chapter Two (#ulink_75761b60-fdb2-54f0-9138-2abd0f6d6caf)

Keely waited until Ethan was out of sight before she shut her back door. The rhythmic sound of the dishwasher sloshing through the rinse cycle accompanied her return journey through the kitchen and then into the living room.

Now that her initial fear for Felicity’s well-being was put to rest, Keely’s mind wanted to linger on the man who’d eased her worries. She’d hardly recognized her neighbor.

Ethan had instilled a sense of calm. He’d been unspeakably gentle with Felicity and Keely was grateful for that. But now she was left feeling confused and edgy and not quite herself.

With his quicksilver smile and excellent bedside manner, Ethan had prodded awake the loneliness she kept stuffed behind a healthy dose of busyness. She’d always thrived on filling her days with activity, to the point of barely having a free moment to herself. Better to be busy than to open herself to ridicule or, even worse, another heartbreak.

At some point in the past year since her broken engagement to William Cutter Sloan III, Keely had convinced herself that activity helped heal her pain, making her feel vital, needed, wanted even. In reality, she’d been sleepwalking through life, burying her pain and humiliation in work, work and more work.

Well, she was wide-awake now, thanks to the seven-year-old little girl she’d taken into her home.

A sense of purpose swelled as Keely mounted the stairs. She was determined to raise the child to the best of her ability. The days ahead would require faith, hope and love.

It all started with love, as her pastor often said. Keely now understood exactly what he meant.

She paused outside Felicity’s bedroom and drew in several tight breaths. Ethan claimed the little girl’s stomachache wasn’t serious. Keely hoped his diagnosis proved accurate.