2. Prescription For Love

“Okay.” He looked down at the kittens, a pair of black and whites with brilliant blue eyes, just stretching with their tiny paws flailing in the air. The pair of them would’ve fit in a soup bowl. “Can I keep them?”

“Are they old enough to be separated from their mother?”

“Margie says so.”

Abby smiled. Margie was obviously the source of all farm knowledge. “Then I don’t see why not. I guess we should check with Presley to be sure.”

“Maybe I could take them home, and we could call her later.”

“How about we leave a note on the table and let her know you’ve borrowed them for the day. I suspect she’ll be happy that they’ve got a good home.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“No problem. But”—she ruffled his hair—“no dog. Not until we have a house with a bigger yard.”

“Deal.” He grinned and glanced at Margie, who was awake and regarding them sleepily. “I can keep them.”

“Awesome,” Margie said with a yawn. “Is it lunch yet?”

Abby laughed. “Come on. We’ll find Glenn and I’ll treat you all to lunch before I go back to work.”

She herded the kids and cats outside. Glenn sat on the front steps, reading her phone.

“Cell tower’s back up,” Glenn said.

“Great,” Abby said. “Maybe that means things aren’t so bad. Hopefully people will start getting in to work today.”

“Most of the afternoon shift has called in they’re coming or have already arrived,” Glenn said. “I just checked the OR and ER.”

“You’re wasted as a first assist in the OR,” Abby said. “Come down to the ER and be my assistant director.”

Glenn laughed. “I don’t know who Flann would shoot first—you or me.”

Abby grimaced. “Probably me. But the offer stands. Think about it. You’re qualified, and when we start growing, there’ll be plenty of challenges.”

“I’ll think about it.” Glenn stood and stretched, wincing as if something bothered her.

“You okay?”

Glenn’s expression shuttered. “Fine.”

“Can I treat you to lunch?” Abby said, recognizing a closed subject.

“Sure.” Glenn smiled and Abby realized how good-looking she was in a quiet, contained way.

Abby smiled back. “Wonderful. I can’t promise I won’t keep trying to seduce you away from the

OR.”

Glenn laughed as she and Abby walked to the car. “Seduce away.”

Abby laughed too, not the least bit inclined to run from the playful banter. Glenn was attractive, thoughtful, intelligent, and interesting, and so much easier to be with than Flann. Abby wasn’t plagued by the unsettled, simmering emotions Flann incited. She should have been relieved, but for some strange reason, she wasn’t.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

A little after seven in the morning, Flann finished up a trauma case that had run all night. She’d been up almost two days and two nights with only a few scattered hours of sleep. The world had condensed to the surgical field in front of her for so long that when she lifted her head to glance at the clock, it took her a few seconds to orient herself. She grinned at Glenn across the table, and Glenn grinned back. Glenn’s face was hidden behind a surgical mask, but she could read Glenn’s emotions from her eyes after years of doing it. Glenn was as exhausted and exhilarated as her. They’d won another one. “Good job.”

“Same to you,” Glenn said in her husky alto.

The twenty-year-old motorcyclist had gone off the road on a slippery curve in a rainstorm and arrived in the ER a little after midnight. With his broken leg, wrist, collarbone, and punctured lung, she would have ordinarily stabilized him and sent him to a tertiary care center for ortho treatment and rehab. Unfortunately, he’d had no blood pressure when he’d been wheeled in by the paramedics doing CPR. His belly had been as hard as a board. Her bet had been ruptured spleen. Glenn voted for liver laceration. They’d both been right and then some. His abdomen was a war zone. Along with a ruptured spleen and lacerated liver, he’d torn his small intestine.

They got the bleeding under control as soon as they got his spleen out, repaired the liver laceration, and put his small bowel back together. Somehow, he’d managed not to break his neck or fracture his spine, and he was young enough he’d likely survive the multiple trauma and insult to his major systems without too much in the way of long-term side effects. He’d still be looking at a week in the intensive care unit and six times that in rehab if he was lucky. But then, he was damn lucky.

Flann stepped back from the table as Glenn carefully applied the dressings and secured his chest tube and other lines for the transfer to the gurney. Flann pulled off her mask, shed her gown and gloves, and called thanks to the anesthesiologist and the nurses on her way out of the room. Her legs were rubbery and her head muzzy. She contemplated taking herself off emergency call, but chances were another one wouldn’t come in anyhow. If it did, she could always punt or transfer if she couldn’t handle it. Once in the locker room she stripped, stumbled like a zombie back to the shower stalls, and stepped under the spray.