Page 9 of 40 and (So Over) Fixing It
This time the woman took a longer look, then sighed. “Mr. Jenkins has his wife with him. He doesn’t need anyone else.”
Erin’s control snapped. “He needs his daughter. Now either take me there or go get Ruth and she’ll tell you who I am.”
The woman glared, and Erin thought for one nearly hysterical second that she would refuse, but after a moment of hesitation she got out of her seat and went to the back, hopefully to get Ruth and not a security guard. Erin was preparing herself for a fight when her mother-in-law pushed through the double doors leading back to the ER cubicles.
Thank God. Erin felt her entire body sag with relief but pushed herself to hurry, rushing to Ruth’s side. Her mother-in-law gathered her to her chest immediately, no doubt absorbing the shaking Erin had been unable to stop since she’d read Ruth’s message. “Where is he?”
Ruth cupped the back of her head lovingly and pulled her closer, something she used to do when Erin was younger and grieving over her parents. That touch more than anything told her Ruth understood the memories running through Erin’s head, the fears, the horror that she would lose anyone else in her life.
“He’s right back here, dear. It’s all right.”
It wasn’t, but Erin didn’t argue as Ruth led her down the hallway. The nurse from the registration desk passed them on her way out, her nasty look saying she didn’t like that she’d been overridden by Ruth and Scott, but who the hell cared. Erin needed to see her father-in-law, not follow some stupid policy that kept people separated when they needed all the love they could get.
“There’s my girl,” Scott said as they pushed the curtain aside to enter his cubicle. “I knew you’d be here anytime.”
Erin tucked her sudden nausea back down into her stomach, taking in the sight of Scott in the hospital bed, oxygen tube under his nose, blood pressure cuff squeezing down on his bicep, an IV in his opposite arm. Beeps and whooshing filled the space, stirring the monsters at the back of her mind, but she shut those off too and hurried to the side of the bed. “Why didn’t you call me when you weren’t feeling well, Dad?”
She probably shouldn’t be reprimanding him, but for God’s sake, they’d waited till he got to the hospital to tell her anything was wrong. She could’ve lost him without ever seeing him again.
Scott opened his arms wide, and Erin wanted to throw herself into them, comfort herself with the hug that had comforted her for twenty-three years, but instead she eased herself in, not wanting to disrupt the lines and wires attached to his seventy-year-old body. The reassurance of his hug enveloped her, and the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek eased some of her panic. “I’m going to be fine, Bug,” Scott murmured, the words gravelly with what she knew was pain.
The use of his nickname for her, the one that had naturally appeared after she began dating their son, Stephen, in her freshman year of high school, squeezed her heart. Ruth and Scott had been her family now for more years than her parents had been able to share with her. They’d died her senior year of high school, and Scott and Ruth had not just taken her in but welcomed her with open arms into their home and their lives. Erin and Stephen had married the very next year, and Scott and Ruth had become her family, not just her in-laws. Even when Stephen died of a heart attack, leaving her a widow, he hadn’t left her alone; his family was hers.
She eased back from Scott, clearing the roughness from her throat. “What happened?”
“He was tossing hay from the loft of the barn,” Ruth said, her tone harsh.
Scott closed his eyes as if he’d heard that accusation more than once today. “The horses needed to be fed.”
“Where was Gary?” Erin demanded. She’d hired the man herself to take over the tasks on the farm that Scott shouldn’t do anymore but wouldn’t give up without someone to take his place.
“Didn’t show up,” Scott growled. One hand came up to rub at his chest, making Erin’s stomach roll all over again.
“Again?”
Ruth sat in the chair next to hers and patted her hand gently. “It’s not your fault, Erin.”
Her mother-in-law knew her so well, but she was wrong. This was her fault. She’d hired Gary, figuring the twentysomething handyman could use the work as much as Scott needed the help, and now she’d have to hire someone else after she fired the damn man. The weight of responsibility made her shoulders sag for a moment before she determinedly squared them.
“What does the doctor say?”
“The doctor says Mr. Jenkins has pulled a chest muscle.”
The deep voice came from the vicinity of the curtain closing Scott’s cubicle off from the others in the ER. Erin looked up to meet a pair of glittering gray eyes in a chiseled face. She’d grown up in the area, knew nearly everyone who lived in a thirty-mile radius of Black Wolf’s Bluff—it wasn’t like they got new blood that often, although with the resort opening, that would likely change. The eyes staring back at her weren’t familiar, however.
“Where’s Dr. Barnard?” she asked involuntarily.
“Dr. Barnard is retiring,” the new doctor said, stepping fully into the cubicle. He was tall, muscled beneath his khakis and lab coat, his dark hair sprinkled with white strands. The smile he gave her as he held out his hand was kind. “I’m the cardiologist who’ll be taking over his practice, Dr. Marshall.”
Given Stephen’s issues with his heart, along with both Scott’s and Ruth’s advancing ages, their family had been under Dr. Barnard’s care for a couple of decades. The man was as old as her in-laws, but somehow the idea of him retiring had never entered her mind. “You’re new to the area.”
It wasn’t a question, and Dr. Marshall nodded as if he was used to it. In as rural an area as theirs, he probably was. His tilted lips said he took no offense. “My wife and I moved a couple of weeks ago.”
That explained it. But back to the matter at hand. “You said Scott has pulled a muscle?”
“Yes.” Walking to the bedside, he addressed his patient. “Aside from a bit of stress, which is what’s got your heart rate and blood pressure elevated, your heart is fine, Mr. Jenkins. It appears as if the pectoralis minor muscle on your left side has a tear in it, likely from lifting more than you should. With time and rest, it will heal just fine.”
Scott grimaced at the wordstime and rest, Erin noticed. She glared down at him. “And no more lifting.”
