Our Last Chance (Heart of Hope 1)

“On a scale from one to ten, how painful?” I asked, lowering her foot and going to the computer to enter the information.

“Eleven. I should probably stay for observation.” She leaned forward, and I wondered if she had a sports bra on because it looked like her tits were about to come out of her top. “You know, Dr. Foster, I don’t believe what people are saying about you making a mistake and causing Ms. Mason’s death. She was so old.”

I gritted my teeth. How fucked up was the world that one person who supported me was the one I didn’t want on my side.

“It must be so hard to have the whole town talking about you like that,” she finished.

Fuck. The whole town? “I’m going to order an x-ray just to make sure there isn’t a fracture.”

“So, I needed to stay a little bit?”

“Yes. I don’t think there’s a fracture. If not, we’ll have your ankle wrapped and send you home with some pain reliever. But no tennis for a while.”

“How will I get my exercise?” Her foot reached out and touched my shoulder.

I closed my eyes, willing God to give me strength. I typed in the order for the x-ray and then stood, moving away from her.

“I’m go

ing to call up to make sure they’ve received the order and find out how long it will be.”

“I’ll be here,” she smiled seductively.

I left the area, reminding myself to keep the curtain open when I returned after the x-ray. I called up and verified the test would be done within the next thirty minutes or so. I wished I’d called up the day Ms. Mason was in.

My next patient was a man with the flu, and after that, I stitched a hiker’s calf, cut on a fall while venturing off the trail path.

“Joyce’s x-rays are done,” Peggy said after I gave the hiker his discharge information.

I blew out a breath. “Any chance you can come with me?”

Peggy laughed. “You’re not afraid of her, are you?”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

“I believe in you, Dr. Foster,” she said with a wink as she carried a syringe to a woman in another area.

“Ms. Maynard,” I said, leaving the curtain open. “I’m sorry for the wait.”

“I don’t mind, although it would have been more fun with you here.”

I sat at the computer, trying to angle myself away from her limbs. I pulled up the x-ray, read the radiologists notes, and examined it myself.

“Good news. No fracture. It’s just a sprain.” I found the treatment notes for a sprained ankle, copied and pasted it into the EMR, with a few tweaks for her care. Then I stood. “We’ll wrap it up, and you’ll want to stay off it as much as possible.” I gave her the rest of the treatment prescription. “A nurse will be in to wrap—”

“Can’t you, Dr. Foster? I trust you more than a nurse.”

I looked at the treatment area and most nurses were busy. The faster she was wrapped and discharged, the sooner I’d be away from her.

“Sure.” I got the bandage and other items, and wrapped her ankle, doing the best I could to avoid her touching me, which wasn’t easy.

“You’re strong, Dr. Foster. Do you work out?” she squeezed my bicep.

“I run.”

“Outside? Without your shirt? I’d like to see that.”

Inwardly I rolled my eyes. “When you get home, elevate your ankle. Can you do that?”