The Doctor's Secret Son

“It really doesn’t matter what you believe,” she said, stepping back. “I’ll see you in medical.”

With that she pushed through the crowd to get away from him.

But mainly to get away from her unwanted reaction to everything about him.

* * *

Later that evening in the medical tent, Trace lifted the fifty-year-old woman’s foot and examined her swollen ankle.

“Yep.” He glanced at her name tag on the lanyard around her neck. “Ms. Perez, you have definitely done a number on your ankle.”

“I shouldn’t have been quite so vigorous dancing in the bubbles, eh?”

“Apparently not.” He had her turn and rest on her knees while he squeezed her calf, watching carefully as it triggered the appropriate movement in her foot. “There’s no evidence that you’ve torn your Achilles’ tendon, but you’re definitely out of commission for the rest of the weekend.”

The woman’s face fell. “I was afraid you were going to say that. Can’t you give me a quick-fix pill?”

“It’s not that easy, Ms. Perez. Some things take time and rest, not a pill. I’m sorry.”

She heaved her chest in frustration. “Me, too.”

“Sit here with ice for about twenty minutes with your foot elevated. Later, one of the guys will drive you on a gator to your tent. Is there someone we can call for you?”

Ms. Perez shook her head. “My daughter is out of town with work and my son lives in Chicago with his wife and kids. I’m by myself.”

He gestured to her leg. “You need to stay off that ankle.”

“I was looking forward to volunteering in the food tent. I’ve not missed a year there since CCPO started these events.”

“There’s no way I can okay for you to serve food.”

The woman perked up. “Maybe I could volunteer in a different way? One where I could still keep my foot up?”

Trace didn’t want to burst the woman’s bubble, but she was going to be in quite a bit of pain and wouldn’t be able to put any weight on her ankle for several days. Not with the amount she’d injured the tissue.

Stepping back into the exam area, Chrissie assisted the woman in propping up her foot and then put the woman’s ice pack back on her ankle. “Is there anything I can get you? We have a few magazines if you’d like, and I brought a stack of books I’ve finished if you want to take one.”

The woman shook her head and held up her cellular phone. “I have books on this thing to keep my mind occupied for times such as these.”

Patting the woman’s hand, Chrissie smiled. “That’s good.”

The medical tent had been slow most of the evening.

Trace liked being busy, and felt restless. He was used to having more to do than time to do it.

Alexis was seeing a gentleman who had come into the tent with some indigestion. The other volunteers were not quite twiddling their thumbs but none of them were busy, either.

Trace compared it to where he’d been not so long ago, in the midst of mayhem and a war-torn country where there had been more ill and injured than hands to care for them, with problems much worse than a sprained ankle.

He closed his eyes. There were other assignments he could take with Doctors Around the World. Less dangerous places. He didn’t have to go back to the places he’d gone before, but he chose to.

“You okay?”

He opened his eyes, surprised Chrissie had initiated a conversation with him that didn’t have something to do with a patient or the event. For the most part she’d ignored him or given him the cold shoulder when he’d attempted conversation.

“Fine.”

Appearing torn, she eyed him. “You didn’t look fine. You looked like you didn’t feel well.”

“Had a flashback,” he admitted, shocking himself that he’d said the words out loud. He hadn’t talked to anyone here about the things he’d seen or done. DAW had required he go through psychological evaluation. He’d passed with flying colors, but that wasn’t to say that the things he’d lived through and seen hadn’t affected him. He’d never be quite the same. “No big deal.”

It wasn’t a big deal. Nothing he couldn’t cope with.

“What kind of flashback?”

“Not one of you,” he teased, unwilling to tell her the nitty-gritty details, “so it wasn’t good.”

She smirked. “Ha-ha. Too funny. Seriously, you turned a bit green there for a few seconds.”

Maybe he’d been green at how stand-offish she was around him. He wanted to go back to the way she was four years ago.

He suddenly longed for at least a glimpse of more carefree times. Even if just a short one.

“You want to go play in the bubbles?”

Her jaw dropped at the same time her brow rose. “What?”

He gestured around the medical tent. “We’re not busy and might not get another chance to catch more of the events. The bubbles are new this year. Agnes was excited about them.”

The more he said, the more he wanted her to say yes. He wanted to play, to let loose and have fun. With Chrissie.

“But...we can’t leave. Ms. Perez,” she reminded him, looking a little panicked.

“You should go,” the woman called from a few feet away, obviously listening to their conversation. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine and can have one of these other folk help me out of here.”

First mouthing “thank you,” Trace grinned at the woman. “See, Ms. Perez wants us to go check out the bubbles. We’ll share a dance in her honor.”

“That would be absolutely lovely!” the woman exclaimed, clapping her hands together and obviously playing cupid. “I insist you go.”

Chrissie still looked hesitant.

“Hey, Gianakos?” he called to Alexis, who had just finished with the only other patient in the tent and sent him on his way with an antacid and instructions to cut back on spicy foods. “Will you check on Ms. Perez’s ankle in a few? She’s got about another ten minutes of icing, then have one of the guys take her to wherever she wants to go. Chrissie and I are going to the main area for a while.”

Alexis shot an envious glance toward Chrissie, then nodded. “No problem.”

“Perfect. See, I’ll be fine.” Ms. Perez shooed them away. “You two go have a little fun.”

Before she could find another excuse, Trace grabbed Chrissie’s hand and led her out of Medical. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Not kicking and screaming the whole way. I needed to get out of there for a few.”

She looked as if she still might kick and scream, then her expression morphed into one of confusion. “Trace, what were you thinking about back there?”