Free 03_The Doctor's Perfect Match by Irene Hannon Page A

Marci.
    Only after he moved farther into the irregularly shaped room did he spot her. She was staring out a window in the far corner, arms crossed tight over her chest, posture rigid, her distress almost palpable. She might try to present a tough frontto the world, but he’d caught enough candid glimpses of her to know that beneath that veneer she had a tender, caring heart. This unguarded moment confirmed his conclusion.
    As he closed the distance between them, the movement caught her attention, and she turned. Her complexion went a shade paler, and her eyes widened in alarm.
    “What are you doing here? Is Henry…” Her voice choked.
    “No.” He took her arm and eased her into a chair, fighting off a sudden urge to pull her into a hug that was part comfort and part something much more. Clearing his throat, he retrieved his hand. “I came over between patients.”
    “Why?” She searched his eyes. “It’s more than a cracked rib, isn’t it?”
    “Yes. His ribs are fine. But he has a lacerated spleen. And some internal bleeding.”
    She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, then opened them.
    “I had a feeling it was bad. What happens now?”
    “If Henry was younger, we might take a conservative approach and see if the spleen would heal on its own. But that treatment option hasn’t been very successful in patients over fifty-five. So we’re going to remove it.”
    “What’s the downside of that?”
    “Short-term, the typical risks of any surgery. Long-term, greater susceptibility to infections.”
    Marci frowned and clasped her hands in her lap. “How long will the surgery take?”
    “Two or three hours. Henry said I should tell you to go home.”
    “Forget it.”
    “I had a feeling you’d say that.”
    “How long will he be in here?”
    “If all goes well, four or five days.”
    “Then what?”
    “I’m not sure. Recovery can take months. And he’ll need a fair amount of help initially.”
    She turned to look out the window, giving him a view of her pensive profile. “When we were waiting for the ambulance, he told me his wife never came home after she was taken to the hospital.” She looked back at him, her expression troubled. “I sensed he might be thinking that will be true for him, too.”
    “I got the same impression. But I’m going to do everything I can to make certain that doesn’t happen. Henry’s very active and healthy for his age. Other than arthritis, not much slows him down. There’s no reason he can’t recover from this—unless he gives up.”
    “He’s not the type to do that.”
    “That might change if his independence is compromised. Or if he has to leave his cottage. I’ve seen it happen.”
    Marci’s perceptive gaze softened as she studied him. “You’re not talking about your experience with patients, are you?”
    The woman across from him might be fair-haired and beautiful, but no way did she fit the dumb-blonde stereotype. Her insights were way too sharp. And her well of compassion—and empathy—seemed to run deep. He had a feeling she’d excel at social work.
    “No. I saw it happen with my grandfather.” He was tempted to tell her more, but a quick check of his watch confirmed there was no time for a prolonged discussion. “I have a waiting room full of patients to see, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, I’ll be in touch with the hospital, and I’ll give you a call if there’s any news. You might want to run home for a while, Marci. Henry’s right. There’s nothing you can do here while he’s in surgery.”
    She shrugged and stared at the toe of her sports shoe. “Leaving doesn’t feel right. It would be sad to be in surgeryand think no one cared enough to hang around.” Raising her chin, she met his gaze. “Would you tell him I’m staying?”
    Christopher’s throat tightened, and he touched her hand for a brief second before he stood. “Yes. I’ll run back and talk to him before I leave.”
    “Thanks.” She