Page 24 of A Soldier's Return

“That was a little more excitement than you probably bargained for this morning,” Eli said as he gripped Max’s leash.

She patted Fiona’s soft fur, wishing she could kneel right there in the sand and bury her face in it for a moment while she regained her composure.

“I would say the same to you. Way to step up, Dr. Sanderson.”

“Part of the job description. You help where you can.”

“It’s more than that for you, isn’t it? Even if you weren’t a doctor, you’re the kind of guy who would jump in and help in any emergency. You must get that from your dad.”

He looked surprised by her words and, she wanted to think, pleased, as well. “I don’t know about that. I do know that was probably enough of a workout for me today. I’m going to be buzzed on endorphins for at least another hour or two.”

“Same here. I need to go.” She smiled a little. “I’m supposed to be at work in an hour, and my boss won’t be happy if I’m late.”

“Sounds like a jerk.”

“He’s okay,” she said.

There was far more she wanted to say, but she didn’t trust herself. She had just watched him work tirelessly to save a man’s life and she wasn’t sure she had the words to convey how much that had moved her.

Chapter Five

His hands were shaking.

Eli gripped Max’s leash with one hand and shoved the other in his pocket, hoping to hell Melissa didn’t notice.

They had just saved a man’s life, and the reaction to that overwhelmed and humbled him.

This wasn’t the first time he had saved someone’s life. He had been a combat physician and had worked in some nasty hot spots all over the world. For several years, his focus had been refugee camps and providing help and education in war-torn villages, where his patients were usually light on hope and heavy on physical ills from all they had endured.

His efforts weren’t always successful.

Too often, there was nothing he could do.

He knew that was the reason for his physical reaction now that the crisis had passed.

Somehow he had traveled back in his memory to the last time he had performed CPR on someone. When he had desperately tried to revive Justine even as he watched her life seep away.

He hadn’t really expected Jim to survive. CPR didn’t always work and even AED machines couldn’t always shock a person’s heart back after it had sustained significant damage.

He didn’t know what Jim’s chances were for long-term recovery, but at least his heart was beating on its own now. Eli had to be grateful for that.

He tried to blink away the image of Justine, of Miri, of those others who had been injured in that suicide bombing, but they remained burned in his mind.

That time, the outcome had been far different. Miri had died instantly. He had known the moment he had raced onto the scene. Justine had survived only moments, conscious and in agony for perhaps thirty seconds after he arrived, until she stopped breathing.

Despite all his efforts, despite the full hour of compressions he had done as they transported her to the makeshift refugee-center hospital. He had done CPR long after his arms started to burn with agony and his back muscles cramped.

The hell of it was, he had known almost from the beginning that she would not survive, and still he had tried. How could he have done anything else?

He let out a slow breath, aware of the cold, hollow ache in his stomach.

“You okay?” Melissa asked as they approached Brambleberry House, her forehead wrinkling with concern as she studied him.

“Fine.”

She gave him a searching look but didn’t call him on his short answer, which she had to know was a lie. “I’m glad you are, because I’m a wreck,” she said instead, with a ragged-sounding little laugh.

“Why?”

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