A Temporary Arrangement. Roxanne Rustand

Edwards shook her head. “It’s more involved than that. You’ve lost a lot of blood and you stand a good chance of losing function of your hand—or worse—if this isn’t done right. I’m referring you to an excellent surgeon in Green Bay.”

      Ethan closed his eyes as the deadline he had to meet and the activities he’d planned for Keifer all went up in smoke. “That isn’t necessary. Hell, last year I needed thirty stitches when a bull took after me. Doc Olson stitched it up in his office and it healed good as new.”

      “The tendons and nerves are involved, and the wound is badly contaminated.” The doctor nodded curtly to the nurse, who moved to an intercom on the wall and instructed someone to make arrangements for transport and admission to a hospital in Green Bay. “You need this taken care of as soon as possible.”

      “I…can’t do it.”

      “Mr. Matthews—”

      “No. I have my son with me for the summer. I don’t have relatives here, and there’s no one else to take care of him.”

      Removing her gloves, Dr. Reynolds murmured something to the nurse, then she turned back to him and lifted the rail on his gurney. “We’re going to find someone to help you out, so don’t worry.”

      “If…if I do go, that would just be an outpatient deal, right? Back here today?”

      “Maybe. And perhaps you could come here for follow-up care.”

      “Follow-up?”

      “If you should need IV antibiotics and dressing changes.” She looked over her shoulder. “Ah, here you go. I need to check on someone else, but I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

      Someone slipped into the exam room just out of Ethan’s visual range and spoke quietly to the doctor, then moved to his bedside.

      It was the blonde who’d, like the Queen of England, so casually dumped her kids on the overworked receptionist. “I’m Abby Cahill, the director of nursing. I understand there’s a problem?”

      He was starting to feel woozy, now that the pain meds were hitting his system, but he wasn’t too out of it to catch her patronizing tone. “I just need to take care of this here and get home. In fact, I could probably just leave right now.” He started to sit up, but she gently pushed him back down. “If I keep it bandaged—”

      “Mr. Matthews!” She blew out an exasperated sigh. “I really don’t believe you’re thinking clearly right now. Do you realize how serious this is?”

      First patronizing, now insulting. He felt his blood pressure kick up another notch. “I can’t go to Green Bay. What about my son? Keifer must be terrified.”

      “Beth is entertaining him,” Abby said quietly. “As for you, the helicopter should be here in fifteen minutes. When it arrives, you need to get on it.”

      He swore under his breath as the room began to spin. “You don’t understand. He’s only ten, and—”

      “He’ll be fine. I’m sure the hospital social worker can handle this.”

      He bristled at her nonchalance. “I—I will not pawn him off on a total stranger.”

      “Mr. Matthews—”

      “This is…the first time I’ve had him for an entire summer. I don’t know any child-care people. But—” he gripped the rails of the gurney as his stomach started to pitch “—that…doesn’t mean I’ll let him go with just anybody.”

      “Our social worker is very trustworthy. I’m sure she knows some good families—people who work here at the hospital, even.” Abby nodded decisively and headed for the door. “We’ll get Linda in here right now, and see what we can come up with.”

      Abby was back in five minutes with a bony, middle-aged woman who looked about as comforting as a truant officer. “This is Mrs. Groden.”

      Frowning, the woman stepped to his bedside. “Our local foster families are full right now, but I’ll certainly find a place for your son if you’re admitted in Green Bay.”

      “Overnight? No way.”

      “Rest assured—”

      “Dammit, no. How assured will Keifer feel, with someone we’ve never even met?” He tried to shake off the nurse who’d started taking his blood pressure again, but she clucked impatiently and he gave in.

      “All right, then,” Abby said. “You’ve met me, at least. I can keep him for the rest of the day. Overnight, if need be.”

      Not on a bet. He’d already seen her in action with those rowdy kids of hers, and he wasn’t impressed. “I think…you have your hands full.”

      She glanced impatiently at the clock. “I’ll just be here for an hour or so, until we can bring in a nurse to cover second shift. Your son will be safe with me until you get back. Scout’s honor.”

      “No.” But his head was spinning in earnest now and his stomach was queasy. And, Lord help him, both Ms. Iceberg and her skinny social worker were starting to look just a little like angels with fuzzy halos above their heads.

      “I am a nurse, Mr. Matthews.” Abby’s voice came from far away. “I’ll care for him as if he was my own.”

      “I’d volunteer, but I’m on call all night.” The doctor’s voice floated by. “Abby’s an old friend of our hospital administrator and has taught nursing for many years. I assure you, your son couldn’t be in better hands.”

      Ethan swallowed hard, fighting the inevitable. Then reached out blindly with his good arm for the plastic basin on the metal table next to his gurney.

      Abby was there in an instant, one arm supporting his shoulders, the basin in position, and murmuring some sort of comforting words that barely registered as he threw up.

      Minutes passed before he could find his voice. And he knew, finally, that he had to give in when the doc took another look at his arm and shook her head.

      There was no way he could drive home.

      “The Life Flight copter is just a few minutes out, Mr. Matthews,” Abby said. “We need to get you ready for transport.”

      “M-my keys.” He fumbled at his side with his good hand and found the truck keys in his jeans’ pocket. “Two miles…out of town. Right on the church road…ten, eleven miles to the old corn crib and north past the Peters place. K-Keifer…knows.”

      And then the light in the room faded and darkness enveloped him as he listened to the soft murmur of voices too distant to hear.

      CHAPTER THREE

      KEIFER KNOWS, Matthews had said as he’d awkwardly tossed Abby his set of keys.

      The boy knew what? How to get home? Knew about something that had to be done?

      His father had certainly had quite a reaction to the Demerol…first exhibiting drowsiness and dizziness, then signs of respiratory depression. Coupled with his nausea, he’d been one sick puppy.

      During her years in nursing Abby had rarely seen that level of response.

      And now Abby was facing his son—a boy masking his obvious fear and confusion with a veneer of arrogance—who really, really didn’t think he wanted to go with her, anywhere.

      Pale and slender with close-cropped strawberry-blond hair and a dusting of freckles over his upturned nose, she wanted to reassure him with a hug. Fat chance.

      The difference between him and the rowdy Reynolds boys—who’d gone home with their mother an hour ago—was night and day. The Reynolds were exuberant, mischievous, with a penchant for noise and trouble. This boy sat glaring silently at her as if she planned to kidnap him and sell him into child slavery.

      It wasn’t a surprise, though. Keifer